#also she is very calm & gentle but every time one of us leaves the room she'll get up to observe where we go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

svt-luna · 4 days ago

Text

≡;- ꒰ ° LUNA’S MEMBER FILES ꒱ ─── just svt things…

synopsis: A deep dive into Luna’s unique relationship with each member— filled with chaos, inside jokes, emotional whiplash, and all the painfully specific dynamics that only the SEVENTEEN member files can explain.

SURPRISE!!! 🎉🥳 a little something for my lovelies since i hit 3k followers recently!! 3,017 to be exact!!!! thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart 💕 i love every single one of you, lovely human beings— whether you are a silent reader or a constant anonymous submission messager, i love, love, love you and i appreciate every single one of you equally!! thank you for constantly supporting my little blog and Luna-Verse. thank you for loving our Luna and i promise, more coming soon! i love you 3000, my 3000! (and counting) 💖

also! this is a pretty lengthy one, so grab a snack and get cosy! i am very proud of this btw— it’s too cute 🥹💕

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

S.COUPS & LUNA ─── CheolNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

an ex-admirer turned protector turned fake boyfriend turned bestie who’s lowkey still in love with you but is also rooting for your fiancé who he also has a strange relationship with… it’s complicated.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first Impression vs. now:

trainee Seungcheol was the second to approach Luna (right after Jeonghan) and was immediately taken aback by her face. Literally gawked.

“I’m not even exaggerating. I looked at her and was like… ‘oh, damn.’” – Seungcheol, on the show Goblin Who Steals Wisdom.

he used to call her ‘Visual Princess Trainee’ and teased her relentlessly— stealing her food, tugging her braids, scaring her when she entered the room, poking her cheek just because she flinched and pouted every time.

and according to Luna: “He was so annoying. I once told him to shut up and he said, ‘You’re too pretty to be mean to me.’ like— what are you supposed to say to that?”

later in a casual group live, Luna calls him out: “Cheollie was so annoying during our trainee years. He used to tease me so much during practice or during break… constantly he would annoy me constantly.”

Seungcheol (grinning): “I liked you, duh. That’s what teenage boys do when they have a crush on a pretty girl.”

cue 5-second pause and Luna choking on her water.

now, they’re almost too comfortable. like childhood best friends who flirt like exes but never crossed the line— except that one time he said “If Jeonghannie fumbles, I’m next in line.” and no one knows if he was joking or not.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

Seungcheol took his leader-of-the-pack role seriously, even as a trainee. Luna, the only girl in the room half the time, brought out his protective instincts early.

he used to walk her to the subway station whenever she needed to go somewhere. waited outside the bathroom during late practices. carried her backpack. no one asked. he just did. when Luna fainted from exhaustion once, Seungcheol was the first to sprint across the room and lift her up, bridal style. no hesitation.

“I’ve always felt responsible for her. Not because she the only girl. Not because she’s weak. Not because she’s not capable of handling herself. Because she never asks for help, and I can’t stand that.” – Seungcheol, in Hit the Road Documentary.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

weirdly not platonic. it’s giving fake marriage pact energy. it’s giving ‘if we’re single at 40, we’ll get married’ type of energy but also ‘don’t touch her or i’ll kill you’ vibes.

they’re flirty without meaning to be. Luna adjusts his collar. he ties her shoes. Jeonghan is constantly side-eyeing them like, “Should I leave??”

Seungcheol once told a staff member: “No, I’m not her boyfriend. I’m her emergency husband right after her actual emergency husband.”

they’ll be mid-bickering and Luna will suddenly rest her head on his shoulder and pout. Seungcheol won’t blink. just puts an arm around her like muscle memory.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

soft. calm. gentle chaos. Seungcheol does things immediately when Luna asks.

Luna: “I’m craving iced americano.”

Seungcheol: already halfway to the café “Say less.”

Luna is the only person who can make him lie down and nap when he’s burnt out. he listens when she speaks— like really listens. Luna knows how to handle his leadership stress. She’ll say, “You don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to carry the burden alone. Take a breath, Cheollie. The world isn’t asking you to be perfect, just present,” and suddenly he’s tearing up behind his hoodie.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Seungcheol brings out: Luna’s bratty, spoiled, but also vulnerable side. she lets herself be taken care of by him— something she rarely allows with others.

Luna brings out: Seungcheol’s softest, gentlest side. she makes him drop the tough leader facade and just be… he becomes baby, actually.

he calls her out when she’s pushing herself too hard. she calls him out when he’s bottling things up. they reset each other’s nervous systems.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Seugcheol for Luna: big brother? teammate? ex-admirer? emotional support husband? guard dog? all of the above.

Luna for Seungcheol: his emotional anchor. his reality check. the only person besides Jeonghan who can tell him “no” and he’ll actually listen.

Luna says: “He’s Jeonghan’s best friend, but he’s my guardian angel.”

when Jeonghan and Cheol argue (because of course they do), Luna is Switzerland— but more powerful.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

shopping— Luna shops. Seungcheol pays. that’s the tradition. He jokes she has him under a financial curse.

“She smiles and suddenly I’m buying five shades of the same lipstick.”

eating buddies— always ordering way too much. Luna takes aesthetic pics. Seungcheol’s halfway through the meal already.

late-night drives— Seungcheol plays ballads. Luna controls the playlist after two songs.

he buys her hair clips. she picks out his cologne. they once wore matching sunglasses for a week by accident and didn’t change it when people teased them and pointed it out.

most recently pet dates— ever since Luna received Bugs, she and Seungcheol occasionally have pet dates with her bunny and his dog Kkuma.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

the nickname bit— Seungcheol started calling her ‘our baby’ in group chats just to mess with Jeonghan who didn’t mind. it stuck.

marriage pact— Seungcheol: “If Jeonghannie ever fumbles, you know I’m next in line.”

Luna (without missing a beat): “He’s not. But you can be the flower boy.”

lip balm tax— Luna always steals his lip balm. Seungcheol carries an extra now just for her.

the ‘Daddy Cheol’ jokes— born from a fan tweet, now a cursed part of their dynamic. Luna leans into it. Cheol denies it— badly (he likes it).

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

Luna grabs his hand when she’s anxious. he rubs his thumb across her knuckles. Seungcheol puts her hair behind her ear when it falls into her face. she lays her head in his lap during long rehearsals. he guards her like a security system.

during comebacks, Cheol always sneaks her favorite snacks into her bag. “Eat, Jiyeonie. You’ll yell at me later if you’re hungry.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

that viral concert fancam— Luna jokingly hip-bumps Seungcheol on stage. he hip-bumps her back, she stumbles, and he catches her with one hand like a k-drama male lead. the clip? viral and everywhere.

Knowing Brothers show clip— MC: “S.Coups, who’s the most attractive in Seventeen?”

Seungcheol (without blinking): “Luna.”

Joshua (offended): “Try again.”

Jeonghan (confused): “Coups is right, why?”

that one live— Luna called Seungcheol ‘my little sugar daddy’ and then immediately carried on like nothing happened.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nicknames for Seugcheol:

Cheol, Cheollie, Coupsie, Cherry Baby (for the chaotic flair), Daddy Cheol (jokingly, mostly to provoke him), My Wallet, Sugar Daddy Cheol

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Seungcheol’s nicknames for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Nie, Nie-Nie, Our baby, Our Princess, Softie, My Girl (playfully, in front of Jeonghan, to start drama)

iv. CONTACTS

cheollie baby & jiyeonie baby

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

one day Seungcheol peeked at Luna’s screen while she was texting and saw his name saved as ‘Cheollie baby’.

Seungcheol: “Wow. I get the baby suffix?”

Luna: “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Seungcheol: changes her contact name on the spot. “We’re cute like that,” he says to Jeonghan. not long after Seungcheol told Luna, “Jeonghan almost blocked me.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures

Seungcheol’s pic: taken at the practice room, Luna secretly snapped it when he was complaining about a game update.

Luna’s pic: she sent it while in full glam, captioned “matchy matchy” with a cherry emoji.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

nope. It’s been the same for 3 years. neither of them is allowed to change it. it’s an unspoken rule.

“It’s cute,” Luna says.

“We’re cute,” Seungcheol followed.

JEONGHAN & LUNA ─── JeongNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

twin flames turned lovers turned soulmates— chaotic fairytale-like royalty with a strangers-to-besties-to-lovers arc that had no business being this fated.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

Jeonghan was the first trainee to approach Luna when she joined— unbothered by her aura, totally intrigued instead. she was shy, a little aloof, and carried herself with this cool confidence, and he thought, “Well damn. Who is she?”

Jeonghan introduced himself and the rest was history.

he sat next to her one day and offered her banana milk like it was a peace treaty. he teased her for wearing her hoodie strings unevenly. she looked at him like, “Who even are you?” they were instantly on each other’s radar but pretended they weren’t. classic teen k-drama behavior.

Jeonghan: “You always sit alone. Are you like… mysterious or just anti-people?”

Luna: “I just don’t like talking people.”

Jeonghan: “…but you’re talking to me?”

Luna (giggling on the inside): “Unfortunately.”

Jeonghan once said in a Weverse live years later: “When Jiyeonie first joined, I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I was also a little scared of her. She was like a hawk in a room full of chickens. She had that ‘don’t talk to me unless you’re interesting’ vibe. So I tried to be interesting.”

Luna revealed in a magazine interview: “I was so shy at first, but Jeonghan made it easy. He kept showing up until I let him in.”

They were secretly crushing on each other for years but thought the other didn’t feel the same. best friends with sexual tension so intense their members had to separate them sometimes.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

started with late-night vent sessions in the practice room. Jeonghan would bring snacks, Luna would bring emotional damage. they trauma bonded over the pressure of being expected to be perfect all the time. Jeonghan was one of the only people who noticed when Luna would go quiet and not just assume she was fine.

“You don’t have to be okay just because you’re strong.” Jeonghan would tell her.

Luna would always seek him out when she needed grounding. Jeonghan had a calmness that wrapped around her like a blanket. their closeness was never loud— it was in the eye contact, the mirroring movements, the silence that felt full instead of empty.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

magnetic. soulmate-coded. slow-burn tension that fans thought was scripted at first but turned out to be painfully real. loud in teasing, quiet in their affection. they can bicker in front of people and no one bats an eye, but if they go quiet and soft? everyone clears the room.

the vibe between them is so ‘meant to be’ it’s genuinely eerie. their will-they-won’t-they phase was a full k-drama arc that had fans writing essays and theorizing for years.

when they’re in the same room, they gravitate toward each other like magnets. it’s involuntary. the phrase “You two act like a married couple” lost all meaning.

unlike Seungcheol , who acts as Luna’s fierce guard dog— ready to throw hands if anyone even looks at her wrong— Jeonghan protects Luna differently. Jeonghan lets her fight her own battles, stepping in only when she needs or asks him to. he sees her strength first, treats her as an equal, but God help anyone who crosses a line.

he’s the type to smile at you sweetly while ruining your life behind the scenes if you hurt her. if Seungcheol is a sword who strikes in open battle for her, Jeonghan is the silent poison slipping through your wine— undetectable, elegant, and inevitable. Jeonghan is the type to destroy your career and send you a fruit basket the next morning.

Jeonghan (sweetly): “You okay, Nana-ya?”

Luna (proud): “Yeah, I handled it.”

Jeonghan (smiling wider): “Good. I’ll handle the rest.”

when seen together in real life, fans and strangers alike describe them as feeling “unreal.” they have a royal fairy aura— as if they’re two mythical beings who slipped out of a fairytale. there’s a soft shimmer to them when they walk side by side, matching steps, sharing secret glances.

fans who meet them together say they just make sense— “Like two puzzle pieces that were carved out of the same star.” their aura together is so strong even strangers on the street pause to stare like they’ve stumbled into a fairytale.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

pure domestic softness. the type to lie in bed all day doing absolutely nothing and calling it the best day ever.

constant gentle touches— thumb strokes, hand holding, Luna braiding his hair lazily while Jeonghan scrolls through her playlist.

silences aren’t awkward— they’re intimate. they have entire conversations with just looks. “Did you eat?” “Yeah, did you?” “…No.” “C’mon.”

Jeonghan instinctively reaches for her hand or her waist. Luna unconsciously leans into him every time.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Jeonghan brings out: Luna’s playful, mischievous, childlike side. he’s the one who makes her laugh the most, who drags her out of bed to go get ice cream at midnight.

Luna brings out: Jeonghan’s calm, tender, serious side. with her, he softens. he listens. he feels safe being gentle.

she tethers him when his thoughts run too wild. he lifts her when she forgets how to. they balance each other perfectly— fire and wind. movement and stillness.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

they are each others’: best friend, soulmate, twin flame, lover. dating for five years and counting. engaged. wedding postponed till Jeonghan finishes his military service. they literally share brain cells— finish each other’s sentences, say the same thing at the same time.

they’re the first person each other calls— whether it’s for good news, bad news, or “I saw a cute cat and thought of you.”

Jeonghan is her safe space. Luna is his constant.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

Lego building nights— they once built an entire Hogwarts Castle in silence and called it a date. yes, they do have a room full of just their Legos in their house.

Sylvanian Family collection obsession. Don’t ask. They both treat it seriously and Luna even built a while neighborhood on a shelf in their room.

shopping with a twist— they ask the cashier or whoever to pick either of their cards. a game they like to play on who pays… they both hold up black cards which is hilarious as it is but whatever, right? the winner gets to pay… oh! and bragging rights.

matching jewelry. they started with rings, then bracelets, then necklaces. now it’s a full-on routine for them to get two whenever they buy jewelry.

back hugs and pinky interlocks. unabashed flirting. in front of the members. in interviews. on stage. late-night talks with soft music playing. sometimes they don’t talk. just lean on each other and listen.

hair routines— Luna braids his hair when he’s anxious. he massages her scalp when she’s tired.

voice memos— they send each other goodnight voice notes or singing voice notes when apart. Jeonghan once whispered, “Sleep well, my moon,” and Luna made it her alarm.

market rituals— sometimes they go to small outdoor markets together in masks and hoodies. they buy random antiques they absolutely don’t need but will decorate their house with anyway.

Luna (holding up a weird cat decoration): “Do we need this?”

Jeonghan: “No. But we might.”

weekly movie night— one week Luna picks (rom-coms), the next Jeonghan picks (thrillers). they argue, throw popcorn, and end up cuddled up halfway through anyway.

Jeonghan: “Why are you crying over a notebook?”

Luna (sniffling): “It’s called ‘The Notebook’ and because it’s fucking sad, you heartless demon!”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Luna’s dolphin-like hearing. Jeonghan will whisper “Dolphin mode activated” anytime she hears something suspicious from across the room.

calling each other “Your Highness” when they want something.

ever since they got engaged, Jeonghan made it a habit to pretend to propose any time he drops something.

Jeonghan: “Jiyeon-ah… I’ve been wanting to do this for years… will you—”

Luna: “If you don’t stand up, I will be returning this ring.”

playing rock-paper-scissors to settle ANY disagreement. They once played 14 rounds to decide who would turn off the light.

Jeonghan using Luna’s forehead as a stress ball. she lets him.

they made up silent signals across a room for “I’m hungry,” “Let’s go home,” and “Save me from this convo.”

Jeonghan raises one eyebrow: Save me.

Luna tugs her ear: I’m done here.

fans later noticed and theorized for years. there are videos about it online.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

constant physical touch. Luna gets clingy when overwhelmed. Jeonghan lets her wrap herself around him like a koala. Jeonghan lies on her lap and lets her hum lullabies to him when he’s overstimulated.

they instinctively find each other in crowded rooms. like clockwork.

Luna mimics Jeonghan’s breathing during anxiety attacks.

Baby talk. “Baby, tired?” “Mhm. Hannie is here though.” people find it cringy? they couldn’t care less what people think.

before any performance, they find each other backstage, touch foreheads, and breathe together for a few seconds.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

just their entire relationship in general.

their relationship getting revealed by Dispatch after 5 years of secrecy… don’t forget the engagement. fans screamed, cried, made edits in seconds.

the engagement ring reveal— Luna lifted her mic and the sparkle hit the camera just right.

Jeonghan gifting Luna her bunny on Christmas, and her crying and naming it Bugs.

Luna writing songs after songs about Jeonghan and him proudly bragging about it on Weverse.

JeongNa in its entirety is iconic.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nicknames for Jeonghan:

Han, Hannie, Jeonghannie, Jeongie, Angel Baby, My Love, My Angel Boy, Baby, Yoon Jeonghan (in her ‘I’m-about-to-slap-you’ tone)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Jeonghan’s nicknames for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Nana, Love of My Life, My Moon, My Pretty Moon, Pretty Angel, Angel Baby, Dolphin (“Can you hear what the neighbor’s thinking too?”), Gremlin (when she’s annoying him for attention), Princess & Bunny (when and only when they are getting freaky)

iv. CONTACTS

my angel boy🪽 & my pretty moon🌙

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names

it is their favorite nicknames for each other. they picked each other’s contact names when they started dating, and it’s been the same since.

one time Seungkwan borrowed Luna’s phone and said, “What in the fanfiction fuck is ‘my angel boy’?!” Jeonghan saw it and changed his own to match her energy. originally he had her saved as ‘my baby’. it was either symmetry or death.

only contacts in their phone that has an emoji so they can spot each other faster.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Jeonghan’s pic: stolen photo from across the couch— Jeonghan pouting while shoving his whole face on her phone.

Luna’s pic: selfie Luna took randomly— pouting with giant puppy eyes, head tilted up. Jeonghan caught her doing it and laughed, “Wait— send me the pout. I’m changing mine.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

the contact stayed the same for years. the pictures, they have matching ones changed here and there, however, this current one stuck the longest.

both pictures show just their eyes and noses angled up at the camera. they call it “puppy vision.”

JOSHUA & LUNA ─── JoshNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

they look like elegant royal heirs but act like chaotic rich siblings in a k-drama who would prank you with a smile.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

Joshua met Luna during the trainee days through Jeonghan, who basically adopted her first. Joshua was instantly easy to talk to because foreigners unite energy. they instantly bonded over being awkward at Korean, giggling when they misunderstood simple words, and feeling overwhelmed by culture shock.

despite their demure appearances, Joshua clocked her chaos energy instantly and decided, “Yeah. She’s one of us.”

Joshua (laughing in broken Korean): “You… want… to fight?”

Luna (dead serious): “Yes. You’re first.”

Joshua: “Cool. We’ll get along.”

over time, that camaraderie turned into an unshakeable ride-or-die sibling bond.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

learning Korean together was the start— they made flashcards for each other. corrected each other’s pronunciation in the most savage ways. competed over who could memorize slang faster (Joshua always cheated).

bonding over culture shock— confused by Korean convenience store food combos (Joshua once thought tteokbokki was dessert).

Luna once bowed at a parking meter thinking it was a person.

Luna (mortified): “I just bowed to a lamp post.”

Joshua (laughing hysterically): “It probably bowed back in spirit.”

homesickness bonding— shared playlists full of songs from home. helped each other during holidays when family felt too far away. talked about their life back at their hometown to make it less lonely.

shared a secret pact: “If one of us makes it, the other has to.”

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

both secretly feral. publicly pretty; privately pretty insane. they’re the type to help you up if you trip, only to immediately mock you to tears. think mean-but-supportive-older-siblings-who-think-you’re-stupid-but-also-their-entire-world.

mutual worshippers— “We’re the prettiest.” “We’re the smartest.” “It’s us or nobody.”

their arguments sound like royal debates.

Joshua (crossing his arms): “I’m clearly the favorite child.”

Luna (smirking): “Favorite? Babe, I am the bloodline.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

Luna, despite her British roots, fits Joshua’s soft LA vibe perfectly.

long drives with indie music. froyo runs at midnight. fipping overpriced lattes while pretending they’re in a Netflix drama.

a rich, effortlessly cool aura that makes people wonder if they’re lowkey celebrities shopping undercover (they are).

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Joshua brings out: Luna’s instinct to feel safe enough to be both soft and crazy.

Luna brings out: Joshua’s mischievous, sarcastic side more than anyone else can. around Luna, Joshua stops being just the perfect gentleman— he becomes playful, petty, chaotic. he spoils her like a literal princess: opening doors, carrying her stuff, paying for everything without a word. in return, Luna brings out his hidden wild side and always gasses him up like he’s a Marvel superhero.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Joshua for Luna: is her emotional buffer. (“Take a breath, Jiyeonie. You’re doing amazing.”)

Luna for Joshua: is his chaos therapist. (“It’s okay to be crazy sometimes. Who cares?”)

they are twin flames, but in the siblings who would murder for each other but also steal each other’s fries way. if Luna needs a co-conspirator for something mildly illegal (like sneaking snacks into dance practice)? Joshua’s first call.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

DIY besties— Joshua taught Luna pottery, bracelet making, sewing patches on jackets, perfume making. Luna taught Joshua how to crochet, how to knit, how to paint with acrylics without making a mess (he failed that one).

Joshua (covered in blue paint): “I’m Picasso.”

Luna: “You’re a crime scene.”

birthday craft exchange— every year, instead of expensive gifts, they hand-make each other something. Joshua once knit her the ugliest scarf known to mankind. She wore it for a week straight.

kitchen disasters— they have a standing ‘cook something hideous once a year’ tradition. their ‘rainbow pasta’ incident is still forbidden to discuss.

English gossip sessions— whenever something juicy happens, they immediately switch to English and huddle in a corner like high school mean girls.

Luna (whispering): “Did you see that?”

Joshua: “Oh we’re TALKING about it.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

speaking in English when gossiping or trauma dumping.

fake royalty titles: Joshua = Prince Joshua of Los Angeles. Luna = Princess Luna of London

they address each other as ‘Your Highness’ when being petty.

random flex battles— “I have better hair.” “My accent’s hotter.” “I’m more photogenic.”

mimicking each other’s accents: Joshua’s fake British accent = crime against humanity. Luna’s LA surfer bro impression = equally criminal.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

small acts of service™— Joshua opens doors for her without thinking. moves her chair before she sits. carries her bags if they’re heavy. unscrews tight bottle caps without being asked.

gentle checking-in— texts her “Drink water” reminders. sends her memes when he knows she’s stressed. reminds her to go to sleep when he sees she’s online, only for Luna to clap back with “Why are YOU still awake?”

“you good?” looks— cross a crowded room, one glance = full conversation.

Joshua (handing her a glass of water): “Princesses don’t get dehydrated.”

Luna (grinning): “Neither do peasants. Drink with me.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

when they both tripped on stage but styled it out like it was choreography.

their chaotic Weverse live— Luna doing Joshua’s makeup blindfolded. Joshua ending up looking like a circus clown and still smiling proudly.

their “DIY Disaster” YouTube vlog— built a crooked birdhouse. decorated it like it was a Picasso masterpiece. made it a running joke: “If this birdhouse survives, so will we.”

matching friendship rings reveal— quietly wore matching gold rings with the letter ‘J’ for years before fans noticed.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s Nicknames for Joshua:

Joshie, Josh, Shua, Shush (chaotic nickname when he’s being noisy), Your Highness (sarcastic)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Joshua’s Nicknames for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Ji-Ji, Lunie, Princess Trouble (only when teasing)

iv. CONTACTS

prince joshie & princess jiyeonie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names

it’s what they naturally call each other most. also because their bond is like chaotic but affectionate.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Joshua’s pic: Ryan (Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse) looking at himself in a mirror. because Ryan is delusional, fabulous, and self-obsessed— just like Joshua at peak confidence.

Luna’s pic: Raquelle (Ryan’s twin) looking smugly at herself in a mirror. because Raquelle is beautiful, chaotic, and the blueprint for petty queens— aka Luna in a nutshell.

Luna made Joshua binge Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse on a random Tuesday night. halfway through, they paused, pointed at the screen, and screamed, “THAT’S US.” changed their contact photos immediately with zero regrets.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

nope. haven’t event thought about it. this is the best one they have set. the only time they’ll even think about changing their contacts is if they find another iconic duo they relate to wholeheartedly… then they’ll consider.

JUN & LUNA ─── JunJi

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence.

shy chaos meets loyal gremlin— the ultimate slow-burn besties.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

when they first met, it was giving painfully polite strangers at a dinner party. both shy, both lowkey introverted around new people— they bowed awkwardly like 10 times in under a minute.

Jun thought she was so cool— “Wow… she’s like… fancy,” he whispered to himself after meeting her.

Luna, meanwhile, told Jeonghan later, “He looks like a prince but stands like a terrified deer.”

for the first few months, interactions were mostly: “Ah… hello…” “Did you eat?” then cue the awkward laughing.

but once they started spending time together during Korean lessons with the other foreign line members, the awkward walls crumbled.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

their friendship blossomed during survival Korean classes with Joshua, Minghao, and Vernon and other trainees. Luna would be extra enthusiastic about Jun’s Chinese culture and ask him all kinds of questions.

Luna: “Do you miss hot pot? I looked up a place! We should go!”

Jun, absolutely touched: “You would do that for me?”

they bonded over; language struggles, their homesickness, laughing at Joshua’s Americanized Korean pronunciation. trading “strangest food from your country” stories. roasting Vernon for already being lowkey fluent while they were dying over Hangul. slowly but surely, they became the type of friends who didn’t need to talk all the time to feel close.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

Luna is quiet; Jun is also quiet. BUT Luna activates Jun like an uno reverse card— making him louder, funnier, and more mischievous when she’s around.

Luna is Jun’s designated #1 fan. if Jun breathes in the general direction of a stage, Luna is clapping like a proud soccer mom.

“GO HUI-HUI GO!!” she yells from backstage while the staff die laughing.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

a weird mix of peaceful and chaotic. they’ll be chilling in comfortable silence one second— and then the next second Luna is making Jun do TikTok dances he absolutely hates but secretly enjoys because she’s hyping him up.

Jun (learning the dance regardless): “I hate you.”

Luna: “You’re welcome. Now body roll more aggressively. Our fans would like that.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Jun brings out: Luna’s calmness— when she’s around him, she’s visibly more chill, grounded, less frantic.

Luna brings out: Jun’s playful side— the one who teases and pranks and isn’t afraid to be ridiculous.

they are each other’s emotional support weirdos.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Jun for Luna: he is her ‘judgement-free zone’ where she can be extra silly without fear of being judged.

Luna for Jun: she is his external hype squad and accidental English tutor.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

English/Chinese language exchanges (but make it chaotic). Luna trying to pronounce Mandarin tones correctly while Jun physically cringes. they regularly teach each other memes from their own countries and rate them from 1-10.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

pretending to be ‘official interpreters’ whenever someone asks them a question.

Jun: “She said she wants dumplings.”

Luna (who said nothing of the sort): “He said he’s buying us all dinner.”

calling each other by their Chinese or English names randomly for dramatic effect. “ Wen Junhui, you disappoint me.” “Luna Bae, this is why you can’t have nice things.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

Luna always sends Jun support when he’s away in China— coffee trucks, food trucks, personalized gifts, flowers, literally sending her love internationally like it’s an Olympic sport.

Jun, in return: spams her with selfies of him holding random cute objects like stuffed animals. makes her random playlists titled ‘For When You’re Sad’ and ‘Luna’s Emo Hours.’

simple and small acts of comfort: Luna reminding Jun to drink water after dancing. Jun sneaking snacks into her bag before shoots because “you always forget to eat.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

that time they got lost trying to find a restaurant in Osaka because both assumed the other knew the way.

when Jun got sick during a Chinese schedule and Luna sent him a selfie holding up half a heart— and he sent his own back completing it. “We’re the most powerful friendship duo, sorry Jeonghan hyung.”

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nicknames for Jun:

Junnie, Hui-Hui, Moon #1, 小王子 (xiǎo wángzǐ / ‘Little Prince’)— she uses it when she’s being especially annoying or teasing.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Jun’s nicknames for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Moon #2, 小月亮 (xiǎo yuè liàng / ‘Little Moon’) — his nickname when he’s feeling soft and sentimental.

iv. CONTACTS

moon #1 & moon #2

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

they both love the nicknames and never found anything more perfect for each other. ‘Moon #1’ for Jun since his surname in Korean is Moon. While ‘Moon #2’ for Luna since her name means Moon in Latin. Jun is number one since he is the oldest of the two. the names are just the right mix of cheesy, affectionate, and embarrassing (which makes it even better).

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Jun’s pic: a selfie Jun sent while sick— holding up half a heart with his hand, looking adorably tired but trying to smile.

Luna’s pic: Luna’s reply selfie— completing the heart with her hand, trying to smile the same way Jun did in his picture.

when Jun was sick during filming in China, sent the half-heart selfie. Luna who missed him, immediately sent the matching half. Luna was so emotional about it, she messaged him: “Save that forever or I’m fighting you.”

Jun replied: “Already set as your profile pic. Stay mad.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

nope. never. it’s been years and they refuse to change them. Luna claims it’s ‘friendship law’ at this point. Jun said if she ever changed it, he’d dramatically unfollow her for 10 minutes out of spite.

HOSHI & LUNA ─── SoonYeon

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

hyper-competitive dance soulmates but also mother and her overly dramatic iPad tiger child.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

when they first met, Hoshi’s aura was very serious and intimidating. as dance leader even during trainee days, he had naturally high standards and a razor sharp eye for mistakes. Luna, with her ballet background and clean movement lines, immediately caught Hoshi’s attention in the best way. he found her movements “so clean it scratched an itch in his brain I didn’t know existed.”— she rarely needed corrections. because of this, Hoshi, who could be blunt and scary, was surprisingly soft towards her. it shocked a lot of the other trainees.

first few meetings— lots of stiff, formal energy. bowing 90° to each other constantly. accidentally speaking to each other in formal speech even when everyone else dropped it.

Hoshi: (bowing furiously) “Hello, I’m Kwon Soonyoung.”

Luna: (panicking) “Oh…yes! Hi– I’m Bae Jiyeon. Nice to meet you.”

cue them doing that awkward shuffle where both people try to move out of the way but keep moving in the same direction. now? Luna casually drags Hoshi by the sleeve to fix his hoodie and lectures him like a tired mom, while Hoshi whines dramatically like a six-year-old denied a Happy Meal.

Luna: (adjusting his hoodie) “You can’t be a tiger looking like a mess, Shi-Shi.”

Hoshi: (whining) “BUT I’M A CUTE TIGER, JIYEONIE.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

dance was their ultimate bridge. Hoshi became curious about Luna’s ballet background and often asked her about certain movements, how she learned body control, etc. Luna would mirror that curiosity, always peppering him with questions about hip-hop foundations, popping, and choreo process.

they both stayed behind after practice hours a lot— stretching, freestyling, battling for who could hold a plank longer, etc. Hoshi realized that Luna learned choreography freakishly fast— she picked up footwork and hand placement in almost half the time of others, and it impressed him so much he once jokingly asked:

Hoshi: (mock serious) “…Are you even human, Jiyeonie?”

Luna: (grinning) “Just built different, Soonyoungie-oppa.”

as dance leader, Hoshi quickly realized that Luna wasn’t just good— she was performance team level good. he really, really wanted her to join the performance team when they were unofficially discussing future team divisions during trainee days.

Hoshi: (in a practice room, breathless from dancing) “You’re Performance Team material.”

Luna: (laughing) “Is this your way of recruiting me?”

Hoshi: (grinning) “You should be honored.”

he genuinely thought her ballet background and street dance fusion style would revolutionize their choreography. however, Luna was also gaining attention for her vocals— trainers constantly praised her tone and technique, and she started being pushed toward vocal team.

Hoshi, being a little dramatic but also mature about it, agreed. He knew she deserved the vocal team position because her voice was too beautiful to sideline.

years later on a Knowing Brothers episode when talking about Luna’s debut, Hoshi said proudly and dramatically: “Honestly, if Luna wanted to, she could be in every unit. She fits Performance Team, Hip-Hop Team, Vocal Team… she’s literally Seventeen itself, I’m serious.”

their inside joke forever became Hoshi pretending to dramatically “steal her back” for the performance team every time she posted a dance cover or performed powerful choreo.

Hoshi: (mock whispering in her ear) “You know you’re one of us at heart, right? Performance Team blood runs in you.”

Luna: (laughing, pushing him away) “Stay mad, Shi-Shi.”

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

absolute chaos meets motherly micromanagement— Luna is that tired mom with 3 hours of sleep managing her hyperactive toddler (Hoshi). meanwhile, Hoshi is that pet tiger who thinks he’s fierce but looks like a stuffed animal.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

surprisingly chill… for like 5 minutes. they start calm: busy on their phones, maybe stretching, discussing new dance trends.

then somehow it devolves into: TikTok dance battles at 3AM. Hoshi trying to stack random objects on Luna’s head to see how long she can balance it (she’s scarily good). Luna making Hoshi practice ballet pirouettes and almost passing out from dizziness.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Hoshi brings out Luna’s: competitiveness to new heights. he pushes and encourages her to be even sharper, faster, more daring with choreography. makes her get OUT of her perfectionist, “everything must be clean” shell sometimes and just vibe.

Luna brings Hoshi’s: softness to balance his leadership intensity. she reminds him it’s okay to laugh, to not always be in ‘Dance Teacher Mode.’ she makes him feel cared for and seen outside of his dance ability.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Hoshi for Luna: her energy booster and confidence hype man, the one who reminds her she’s unstoppable.

Luna for Hoshi: his emotional support momager + the only one who can tell him “you’re overworking” and he’ll listen.

Hoshi: (chanting dramatically) “Our Jiyeonie is the dance queen!”

Luna: (laughing) “You’re so embarrassing, stop!!”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

supporting each other’s weird interests 3000%.

Luna wears tiger print whenever Hoshi has a big event. Hoshi attends Luna’s solo dance performances schedules even if he has to sneak in with sunglasses and a hat.

gift exchange tradition— Luna must buy Hoshi anything tiger-related she spots. a tiger print bag, tiger slippers, even tiger-patterned socks. you name it, it’s his.

Hoshi must send her TikToks he thinks she can nail dance-wise and challenge her to do it first.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

‘Horanghae Nation President’ = Luna’s title.

Hoshi pretending to be an actual tiger cub, growling softly whenever he wants attention.

Hoshi: (tiny roar) “grrr” 🥺

Luna: (patting his head) “Yes, yes, my scary little beast.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

if either one has a rough day, they automatically end up in a dance studio together— no talking, just music and movement.

Luna’s major cuteness aggression towards Hoshi—randomly grabs his cheeks mid-conversation. squeals “AHH, SO SQUISHY!” and aggressively hugs him.

posting silly dance covers and challenges together like a chaotic mother-son duo on TikTok.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

a jaw-droppingly sexy dance cover they posted once to a The Weeknd song— totally caught fans off-guard because usually their content is pure crackhead energy.

fans losing their minds because “Mother and Child just ate us alive and didn’t even say sorry.”

during a group live for Luna’s birthday, Hoshi randomly got super soft and said— Hoshi: “You’re one of my favorite people, you make this team better just by being you.”

Luna (tearing up): “Is the tiger…crying?”

Hoshi: “NO, IT’S JUST MY EYE SWEAT.”

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nicknames for Hoshi:

Shi-Shi, Soonie, Soonyoungie, My Pet Tiger, Squish-Cub (especially when he’s pouting), Baby Tiger

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Hoshi’s nicknames for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Ballerina Boss, Tiger Mama, Ji-Ji, Performance Team Member #5 (when he wants to annoy Woozi)

iv. CONTACTS

shi-shi & ji-ji

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

they literally call each other these nicknames in real life all the time— it felt wrong to save each other as anything else. plus, they wanted to match like the clingy chaotic besties they are.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Hoshi’s pic: a photo of him at a fansign wearing a fuzzy bear hoodie, doing the Horanghae claw pose aggressively but cutely.

Luna’s pic: a photo of Luna also at a fansign wearing tiger ears and big cat mittens, holding her hands up like a ferocious kitten.

both photos were found randomly on fan accounts. they both sent the pictures to each other at the same time in a chaotic “OH MY GOD LOOK AT YOU” moment and decided to change their contact photos immediately.

Luna: (texting) “BRO. HOW ARE YOU A WHOLE BEAR-ASS TIGER RN.”

Hoshi: (texting) “YOU’RE LITERALLY A TIGER- KITTEN HYBRID TRYING TO BE FIERCE. STOP.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

no. they love the current names and pictures way too much. it’s a badge of honor at this point.

WONWOO & LUNA ─── WonNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

calm meets calmer. the human embodiment of ‘silent understanding’ and ‘two introverts chilling in a room five feet apart because they vibe.’

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

Luna has always been good at keeping her cool, but meeting Wonwoo? she short-circuited a little. he wasn’t loud. He wasn’t intimidating in the traditional way. it was the eyes— the sharp, catlike gaze that seemed to see straight into her soul.

Luna: (to herself, first day) “Holy shit, is he glaring at me?”

reality: he was literally just existing. he didn’t see her at all. she was a blur… literally. Wonwoo was blind and existing. ironically, Luna experienced what others often feel when they first meet her— that wall of silent intensity.

first few weeks, she’d freeze up whenever Wonwoo was around, treating him like a final boss she wasn’t ready to fight. it was funny. Luna wasn’t intimidated by Seungcheol or Woozi like a lot were. it was Wonwoo. but once she started catching him smiling at dumb jokes or catching glimpses of his laugh where his eyes would crinkle and his sharp image would completely soften?

Luna: (whispering to Joshua) “I was scared of a literal teddy bear. I deserve jail time.”

Wonwoo: (soft laugh) “You were scared of me? That’s cute.”

now, they’re so comfortable, Luna jokes that she can predict his every blink.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

it started because Wonwoo heard from other trainees that Luna had a hidden rap training background.

Wonwoo: (serious) “You used to rap? Show me.”

Luna: (horrified) “No. Immediate rejection. Try again next year.”

Luna was shy about it— rapping was the one thing she wasn’t confident in. in fact, her old trainers from her previous company only tested her on it for a few months before she joined to PLEDIS.

Wonwoo didn’t push too hard, but he never forgot. months later, during a random evaluation, trainers asked Luna to rap… and she transformed. her flow was sharp, her delivery clean— it was like seeing a whole different Luna. Wonwoo (and the other trainees lowkey) clapped without even thinking.

Wonwoo: (quiet but awed) “You’re insane. Why don’t you do it more?”

Luna: (shrugging, bashful) “It’s not my main thing…”

Wonwoo: (smirking) “It should be.”

they bonded after that— over rap, rhythm, phrasing. Luna also became Wonwoo’s unofficial English tutor when he needed help with rap lyrics. she would patiently explain slang, nuances, and tone.

Wonwoo: (after Luna explained ‘pull up’) “So it’s not… actually pulling something up somewhere?”

Luna: (grinning) “Correct, Woo.”

these quiet moments— shoulders brushing as they pored over lyrics together— built a solid, wordless trust between them.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

black cat x doberman. they’re so low energy sometimes that others wonder if they’re even alive.

Seungkwan: (mock screaming) “SAY SOMETHING! BLINK! BREATHE! MOVE!”

Luna + Wonwoo: (barely glancing up) “…hi.”

quiet comfort. a safe zone where neither feels the pressure to entertain.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

peak ‘comfortable silence’ energy. they could sit for hours, gaming or reading, exchanging maybe two words but feeling totally at peace. no forced conversation. just existing together.

Wonwoo: (passing her a controller) “Ready?”

Luna: (nodding, stretching) “Let’s go.”

it’s the most healing, non-demanding dynamic either of them has.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Wonwoo brings out Luna’s: patience and he grounds her. in the chaos of idol life, he’s one of her few ‘still points.’ with him, she doesn’t feel the need to perform or impress— she can just be. Luna becomes even softer, even more patient with herself around Wonwoo.

Luna brings out Wonwoo’s: quiet warmth shine brighter. he smiles more, jokes a little more, even initiates conversation with her.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Wonwoo for Luna: is the silent protector— he doesn’t say much, but you best believe he notices when Luna’s not feeling okay.

Luna for Wonwoo: is the gentle cheerleader— noticing when Wonwoo needs silent support and giving it without fuss.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

gaming sessions— Wonwoo taught Luna gaming 101. she was tragically bad at first— dying every 2 minutes, asking dumb questions. he never once teased her, only explaining patiently over and over again.

Wonwoo: (explaining for the 10th time) “Click B to crouch, Jiyeon-ah. B.”

Luna: (squinting at controller) “WHERE IS B?!”

now they game together all the time— she’s decent, but the moment she gets too into it, her sailor mouth comes out in full force.

Luna: (in Korean-English hybrid rage) “Ya, what the—! Bro what the fuck! Why in the flying fuck?!”

Wonwoo: (calmly laughing) “Language, Jiyeonie.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Luna dramatically ‘fainting’ every time Wonwoo wears a button up with his glasses and looks like a hot professor.

Luna: (pretending to swoon) “Somebody stop this man. It’s too much.”

Wonwoo: (adjusting glasses, deadpan) “Study harder.”

Wonwoo teasing Luna by texting her random English slang he just learned and seeing if she cringes.

Wonwoo: (text at 3 AM) “Bro, that’s lowkey bussin fr fr.”

Luna: (dying inside) “You’re banned from the internet.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

Luna wordlessly cleaning Wonwoo’s glasses if she spots even a speck of dust— he’ll just stand still and tilt his head like a cat until she’s done.

Wonwoo acting like a literal dad scolding her for bad eye habits: (serious) “You’re gonna ruin your eyesight. Stop holding your phone so close, Bae Jiyeon.”

Luna: (mocking) “Dad, it’s fineee.”

Wonwoo: (pushing her hand away gently) “Arm’s length. Always.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

that one gaming live where Luna lost badly and was clearly about to start cussing. Wonwoo, with the reflexes of a Marvel superhero, immediately wrapped one arm around her shoulders and slapped his hand over her mouth. fans lost their minds at the smoothness.

Luna: (muffled behind his hand) “MMMPH!!!”

Wonwoo: (calm, smiling at camera) “She’s fine. She’s just… expressing strong emotions.”

legendary clip. fans still edit it into meme videos about friendship trauma.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Wonwoo

Woo, Wonie, Won-Won, Woon, Woonie, Catboy (when teasing him)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Wonwoo’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Loony (Harry Potter reference), Trouble (when she curses too much gaming)

iv. CONTACTS

wonie & trouble

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

it’s what they naturally call each other the most. it just feels right. ‘Wonie’ is cute and Luna loves how it sounds. ‘Trouble’ because Luna swears like a sailor when gaming and he finds it secretly adorable.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Wonwoo’s pic: a stolen selfie of Wonwoo looking mildly confused after she shoved her phone in his face. during a gaming break. Luna attacked Wonwoo with the phone; Wonwoo was too stunned to resist. at least he was smiling (awkwardly) after he blinked like a deer caught in headlights.

Luna’s pic: areally pretty selfie Luna took using his phone when she stole it while he was distracted. she looked so happy and carefree that he kept it.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

nope. Luna knows she’s never getting another candid cute pic like that of Wonwoo unless she tackles him. meanwhile, Wonwoo is way too lazy to ever update his contacts. also, he likes that selfie too much (but he’ll never admit it out loud).

WOOZI & LUNA ─── LuZi

i. OVERVIEW:

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

musicians at heart— the composer and his melody. they aren’t loud or over-the-top. they’re those quietly brilliant kids in class you only notice when you realize they’re carrying the whole group project. Luna thrives in feeling things deeply and translating them into melodies, and Woozi— literal sound engineer of her feelings— is the one who structures and shapes it.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

during their trainee years, Woozi and Luna were in two completely different universes— not in a bad way, just… parallel. Luna had Jeonghan; Woozi had himself, he gravitated towards himself. their conversations were strictly “Hello,” “Good work today,” and “Eat well.” Very formal. Very awkward.

Luna thought he was a bit intense but respected the hell out of him. Woozi thought she was kind of intimidating because she observed too much and he was suspicious of anyone that observant.

trainee Luna: “Good morning, Jihoon-shi!”

trainee Woozi, blinking aggressively: “Y-Yeah. Morning.” (internally: why is she so… bright??? it’s 7 AM???)

now they are partners-in-(musical)-crime. Woozi’s the first person Luna wants to show her new lyric idea to. Luna’s one of the few people aside from the other members Woozi trusts enough to ask for honest feedback. they still don’t have super deep personal talks often, but when they do, it’s surprisingly raw and supportive.

Luna barging into his studio, grinning: “I wrote something new!”

Woozi, deadpan but fond: “Did you at least sleep this time or is this another 3 AM masterpiece?”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

Luna being recruited into the Seventeen project was the start. suddenly, Woozi had to actually work with her— not just awkwardly bow at the practice room door. she was curious about songwriting and producing— not just surface-level curious, but taking actual notes curious.

Woozi noticed her genuine passion and couldn’t help but mentor her a little. he appreciated that she didn’t just ask annoying questions like, “What’s your favorite chord?” but instead asked, “How do you know when a track feels finished?” over time, he started calling her into the studio with a casual, “You free? I need a second opinion.”

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

calm, focused, creative. it’s two perfectionists bonding over art, but without suffocating each other. Luna is slightly more expressive; Woozi is the cool-headed editor. he hones her wild ideas into clean executions; she pulls him into more experimental zones. in short: student and teacher turned collaborators.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

quiet music nerd energy. lots of “listen to this” and “what do you think about this hook?”

occasional comfortable silences where one is working and the other is doodling lyrics. not much small talk— mostly hyper-focused music conversations punctuated by dry jokes.

Luna tapping her pencil on her notebook: “Do you think this bridge is too cheesy?”

Woozi, sipping coffee without looking up: “You’re cheesy. It works.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Woozi brings out Luna’s: confidence in her own musical instincts. patience to refine her ideas without losing passion. a more technical, structured approach to creativity.

Luna brings out Woozi’s: slightly more playful, experimental side. ability to loosen his tight grip on perfection. she is a reminder that music is supposed to be felt just as much as it’s crafted.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Woozi for Luna: mentor, quality control manager, quiet cheerleader. the person whose approval feels like winning an Olympic gold.

Luna for Woozi: muse, chaos bringer (in a good way), someone who reminds him why he loved music before it became a job.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

sharing drafts and lyric ideas late at night.

studio jam sessions where they don’t speak much— just vibe and build. sometimes they’ll spend hours in the same room, each doing their own thing, only breaking the silence when one of them says, “Hey, listen to this real quick.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Luna constantly calling Woozi ‘President of the Sound Department’ whenever he gets too nitpicky about mixing.

Woozi teasing Luna that she writes “too many heartbreak ballads for someone who’s not heartbroken and very much in love.”

Luna threatening to make a diss track every time Woozi rejects one of her beat ideas (“I’m this close to cooking you in 16 bars, Hoonie.”)

Woozi’s fake-deadpan reaction to every one of her new lyrics: “It’s missing… ‘baby’. Put ‘baby’ in it.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

whenever Luna feels stuck, Woozi doesn’t give big pep talks. he just tosses her a spare notebook and says: “Write it out. Doesn’t have to make sense. Doesn’t even have to rhyme. Just get it out.”

that simple act— that permission to make a mess— usually pulls her out of her slump. when Woozi’s stressed, Luna slips him candy under his keyboard without a word. (Sugar = productivity.)

Luna grumbling after a rejection: “Maybe I should just quit music and become a florist.”

Woozi, dry as ever: “Florists still have to work with thorns. You’d just write sad songs about roses.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

Luna making her official producing debut with Woozi’s help— her first-ever co-produced track was born after a marathon 11-hour studio lock-in. fans still talk about the behind-the-scenes clip where Woozi muttered, “You’re a monster now. I created a monster,” while Luna cried happy tears.

Luna, teary-eyed: “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Woozi, awkwardly patting her head: “Yeah. Yeah, you could’ve. But I’m still taking 50% credit.”

their matching ‘Producer Line’ handshake (extremely complicated, overly dramatic, and ends with them fake-saluting each other like anime characters).

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Woozi:

Jihoonie, Hoon, Hoonie, Chief Lee, Boss Baby (When she’s being annoying)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Woozi’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Co-Captain, Muse-nim, Lyric Gremlin (affectionate), Melody, Siren (referring to her voice)

iv. CONTACTS

jihoonie & jiyeonie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

their friendship is simple and based on mutual respect. their contacts are mostly functional and simple. the most common nickname they call each other is used because according to Woozi: “It’s too complicated to have your name something weird like you have for the other guys.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Woozi’s pic: stolen photo where Woozi’s cheeks are squished by his beanie, smiling like a dumpling baby. Luna caught Woozi off-guard at the studio for his photo. Luna refuses to change it because “it’s peak cuteness and must be preserved.”

Luna’s pic: she took a selfie holding a half-heart to her cheek with the caption “Wooahae”. she had no contact photo for a long time— until Luna physically forced him to set one. Luna spammed him with “Wooahae” selfies until she got sick of waiting and changed his contact manually. Woozi grumbled but secretly finds it adorable.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

absolutely not. Luna’s too obsessed with the dumpling pic. while Woozi’s too lazy and secretly sentimental to change hers. so he couldn’t be bothered.

THE8 & LUNA ─── LuHao

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

‘twin where have you been?’ ~ — same person, different fonts. they are the gender-bent versions of each other who will judge you openly but lovingly, no hesitation— professional ‘side-eye then sip tea’ partners.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

when Luna first met Minghao, he looked absolutely lost— big wide eyes, hovering awkwardly behind Jun like he’d been dropped into another planet. she immediately related to him, being a ‘foreigner’ herself. it was mutual confusion between them over why there was a girl in their group, but it was never rude, just puzzled.

Minghao, blinking at her: “Why…girl?”

Luna, blinking back: “Trust me, I’m just as confused as you are.”

over time, he became one of her fiercest silent defenders when people doubted or side-eyed her presence in SEVENTEEN. he wasn’t loud about it— he was silent but deadly with his shade and side-eyes at anyone disrespectful.

Minghao (deadpan): “Their opinions are invalid.”

Luna, laughing: “My knight in shiny apathy.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

Korean classes were their bonding ground. Luna knew more Korean, so she helped him a lot (with Jun’s occasional help). it started with simple study sessions, but quickly became Luna dragging Minghao by the sleeve and saying things like:“Repeat after me: ‘Hello, I am a king.’”

Minghao, confused but obedient: “…Hello, I am a king?”

Luna: “Exactly. Manifest it.”

she helped him not just with words, but with slang, humor, and reading between the lines of Korean culture which she had learned from her peers as well. in turn, Minghao would teach her Chinese idioms and phrases, making their tutoring sessions this weird fusion of cultures and chaotic humor.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

both have permanently installed Resting Judgment Faces™. when something stupid happens in the group, both will silently make eye contact— no words needed, the disdain is communicated through vibes.

Luna is impulsive and chaotic, while Minghao is the “breathe, bestie” squad.

Minghao (patting Luna’s back when she’s about to pop off): “Inhale. Exhale. Violence…later.”

they balance each other— Luna acts first, Minghao calculates first.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

strangely peaceful. they will sit in total silence for hours— Minghao painting, Luna scribbling lyrics or doodles— and it’s not awkward at all. they also exchange the occasional deadpan commentary:

Luna, staring at her sketch: “This looks like a drunk chicken.”

Minghao, not looking up: “So do you sometimes.”

Luna: “Facts.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Minghao brings out Luna’s: self-awareness and patience. she’s naturally impulsive, but with him, she remembers to slow down, reflect, and think bigger picture.

Luna brings out Minghao’s: playfulness and emotional openness. he’s naturally reserved and mysterious, but around Luna, he lets loose more easily— jokes, playful jabs, even chaotic laughter that shocks everyone else.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Minghao for Luna: her voice of reason and her unofficial ‘calm the chaos’ mentor. her emotional regulator when things get too overwhelming.

Luna for Minghao: his creative spark and emotional compass. she reminds him that it’s okay to not always be the cool and composed philosopher, that vulnerability is powerful too.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

tea time— Minghao taught Luna traditional Chinese tea rituals.

Luna: “So no milk? No sugar??”

Minghao (judging): “Absolutely not. You weirdo.”

Luna taught him the British-style tea with milk and sugar, resulting in 10 minutes of pure judgment followed by gagging noises after he tried it.

painting sessions— very soothing. Luna’s style is chaotic and colorful; Minghao’s is minimalistic and philosophical.

fashion adventures— they are airport fashion gods. not matching exactly but matching aesthetics— same energy, different fonts. fans call them the ‘Vogue Twins’

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

pretending to be silent bodyguards for the rest of SEVENTEEN. Luna and Minghao, in sunglasses and stone faces behind Jeonghan: “Sir, this peasant tried to breathe near you.”

ranking tea quality like they’re Michelin judges.

Minghao (sniffing tea): “This smells like regret.”

Luna: “Zero stars. Would not sip again.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

when Luna’s about to go nuclear on someone, Minghao casually pats her leg or back to ground her.

Minghao (softly): “Breathe, Jiyeon-ah. You’re too pretty for jail.”

when Minghao’s stressed and closing himself off, Luna sneaks in mini snacks or sketches memes and slips them under his door. sticky note from Luna: “You’re the coolest philosophical tea-drinking king I know. Smile or I’ll tell Jun you cried at a cat video.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

synced judging reactions captured on Weverse live multiple times— the side-eyes, the collective sighs, the synchronized head tilts.

once did an impromptu ‘silent roast battle’ at a fan meeting: literally just exchanging intense stares and shrugging judgmentally while fans screamed.

Luna once roasted Minghao in English, Minghao fired back in Chinese, Luna fake-cried and they both ended up laughing like lunatics while Seungkwan screamed in the background: “I’M SCARED OF THEM.”

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Minghao:

Hao, Hao-Hao, Xiao Hao (Little Hao), Twinie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Minghao’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Xiao Jiyeon (Little Jiyeon), Chaos Twin

iv. CONTACTS

twinie hao-hao & twinie jiyeonie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

chaotic twin behavior. nicknames they naturally fell into. they fell into a habit of calling each other ‘twinie’ when addressing each other. they have gotten so used to it, it stuck.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Minghao’s pic: a picture of James from Team Rocket (Pokémon) sticking his tongue out— chaotic, dramatic, icon behavior.

Luna’s pic: a matching picture of Jessie from Team Rocket sticking her tongue out— fiery, overdramatic, slight menace but lovable.

found during a 3AM Pinterest deep dive together.

Minghao, pointing: “This…is us.”

Luna: “No lies detected.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

YES— constantly. Past contact photos include: the Siamese twin cats from Lady and the Tramp, Little Twin Stars from Sanrio, Shinchan and Himawari from Crayon Shin-chan, Tom and Jerry. it’s a long-standing tradition to change contacts to match iconic chaotic duos every six months or so.

Luna: “This is our thing.”

Minghao: “I’m pretty sure you do this with Joshua too.”

Luna: “Yeah, well… I’m the main character of this story.”

MINGYU & LUNA ─── MingNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

golden retriever in love with his badass fairy princess— the biggest ‘what if’ Carats will never get over of.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first Impression vs now:

Luna first thought Mingyu was stupidly attractive. Like— teen heartthrob level. then he opened his mouth… and she immediately went “Oh. He’s a puppy.” he was fumbling, blushing, dropping his water bottle, and giggling like a middle schooler when she said hi.

Luna (to herself): “He’s gonna be the death of me. But like, in a sweet way.”

Mingyu (internally screaming): “I’m going to marry her. Today. Right now.”

Mingyu was absolutely floored. genuinely thought she was a fairy princess that stumbled out of a Disney movie. forgot how to breathe for a good minute. thought she ‘glowed’ in the fluorescent trainee lights (he wasn’t even exaggerating).

and till this day he still thinks she glows. still would propose on the spot if given half a chance. Luna still sees him as the world’s biggest, stupidly cute, sweetest golden retriever. but now they’re best friends too— she can boss him around, roast him, hug him, and he’ll just wag his metaphorical tail and follow her around like it’s his life mission.

Luna (teasing): “Still got that little crush, Gyu?”

Mingyu (grinning wide): “Always.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

Mingyu was paralyzed around her during their trainee years. like, deer-in-headlights levels of awkward. every time Luna even glanced his way, he would immediately: trip over thin air, blush so hard he looked sunburnt, genuinely look like he was about to explode.

meanwhile, Seungcheol and Jeonghan (also secret admirers) at least managed to act cool around her. Mingyu? full malfunction.

one break during training, Luna casually sat next to him with a snack and just started chatting about the weather.

Luna (grinning): “You think it’s gonna rain today? I hope it rains. I like the smell.”

Mingyu (inwardly combusting): “Y-Yeah! Rain smells… good in a weird way! I mean— not like, bad! I mean— you smell—GOOD— wait—”

Luna burst out laughing at his panic— not mocking, but genuinely finding him adorable. that laugh broke the ice. Mingyu fell harder.

Mingyu (internally): “Oh my god. She’s the cutest person alive. I’m dead. Goodbye.”

from then, she’d always sit with him, joke with him, pull him into group convos, and slowly he unfurled like a shy puppy finally getting cuddled.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

golden retriever x doberman dynamic to the MAX.

Mingyu: sunshine, clinginess, heart eyes 24/7. Luna: the slightly intimidating, beautiful doberman who secretly has a huge soft spot for her dumb golden retriever. he’s physically attached to her when possible — hugs, arm slings, resting his chin on her head because he’s TALL.

Mingyu: “Can I hug you?”

Luna (pretending to be annoyed but already opening her arms): “You’re already doing it, idiot.”

ater Luna and Jeonghan became a thing, Mingyu was hurt, but mostly just happy she found real love. never let the heartbreak ruin their friendship.

Mingyu (softly): “As long as you’re happy, I’m good.”

to this day, if someone asks Mingyu his ideal type, it’s Luna’s name and description that falls out without thinking.

Mingyu (panicking): “…Like…Luna. I mean—not LUNA Luna but like…someone Luna-LIKE??“

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

Luna’s gentle giant. no questions asked— if Luna’s sad, tired, stressed — Mingyu’s solution is immediate physical affection: giant bear hugs, carrying her around like she weighs nothing, stroking her hair while she vents, if Luna’s hungry, Mingyu starts cooking without even asking.

Luna: “Gyu-Gyu, I’m kinda hungry—”

Mingyu (already chopping onions): “What do you want? Spicy? Comfort food? Say less.”

they genuinely feel like home to each other— in a loud, goofy, heartfelt way.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Mingyu brings out Luna’s: softer, cuddlier side. lets her be small and protected without judgment— a rarity for someone as strong and self-reliant as her.

Luna brings out Mingyu’s: calmer, more centered side. helps him feel less self-conscious and more confident just being his genuine goofy, soft-hearted self. makes him feel seen and cherished beyond just his looks or talents.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Mingyu for Luna: emotional support teddy. the guy she can rely on to show up with hugs, food, and unconditional loyalty without asking for anything in return.

Luna for Mingyu: his fairy princess best friend who reminds him he’s worth loving even when he feels insecure. his anchor in the chaos.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

Instagram famous duo— lowkey obsessed with aesthetic selfies of each other. most of Luna’s viral candid shots? Mingyu’s handiwork. half of Mingyu’s boyfriend-core Instagram shots? Luna behind the camera, making kissy faces to make him laugh.

fashion addicts— shopping is religion. Italy Nana Tour? they were the only ones serving FITS on the last day.

trying on outfits, rating each other like judges on a reality show.

Mingyu: “11/10. Wife material.”

Luna (laughing): “You’re so biased.”

cuddle monsters— Luna randomly launching herself onto Mingyu’s lap? normal.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Mingyu is Luna’s emotional support golden retriever. they joke that Mingyu has a ‘loyalty chip’ installed for Luna only.

Luna: “Sit next to me, Gyu.”

Mingyu (sitting immediately): “Okay!”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

piggy back rides— Mingyu offers them anytime Luna looks even slightly tired.

cheek squeezes + kisses— Luna aggressively squishing Mingyu’s cheeks is a daily event. he retaliates by planting a kiss on her forehead or cheek.

official SEVENTEEN cooks— always found side-by-side in the kitchen during group trips. have a natural rhythm together— chopping, stirring, taste-testing each other’s dishes.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ most iconic shared moments:

the Insomnia Zero confession— during a Going Seventeen filming, Mingyu casually confessed— Mingyu: “Jiyeon-ah, do you know I have a crush on you?”

Luna (heart spiking): “Ya! Stop lying!! People will misunderstand!!”

the ‘Biggest What If’ of SEVENTEEN history. before JeongNa was confirmed, fans were OBSESSED with Luna x Mingyu. the ‘triangle’ era between Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungcheol is iconic. but Jeonghan, Luna, and Mingyu? Legendary.

iii. NICKNAMES:

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nicknames for Mingyu:

Gyu, Gyu-Gyu, Migoo, Darling, My Giant, Puppy (to tease)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Mingyu’s nicknames for Luna:

Lu-Lu, Jiyeonie, Lovebug (when he’s being dramatic and need of attention)

iv. CONTACTS

Gyu-Gyu & Lu-Lu

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

they picked their nicknames because they’re the names that they originally made for each other that makes them feel warm the fastest.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Mingyu’s pic: mirror selfie he sent her making a kissy face and flashing a peace sign.

Luna’s pic: a mirror selfie she sent back doing the same, trying to mimic him.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

a couple times. but this current setup — the kissy selfies — has stuck because it’s cute, ridiculous, and feels perfectly them.

DK & LUNA ─── SeokNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

the princess and her court jester— chaotic sunshine besties with golden vocals and even more golden hearts.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

the first time Luna met Seokmin, she cackled. not giggled, not chuckled— cackled. it was during a vocal warm-up session and he made a random comment in his overly sincere voice, something like, “Your voice sounds like a sexy GPS that would still lead me off a cliff— but I’d thank it for the ride.” and Luna, already tired from the day, just lost it. everyone turned like, What the hell just happened? but Seokmin? he lit up. from that day on, it became his life mission to keep making her laugh like that.

meanwhile, for Seokmin, the second he heard Luna sing for the first time, he froze. he wasn’t even being dramatic— he genuinely looked around like, is this an OST? are we in a k-drama right now? when she laughed at his jokes later, he considered it divine validation.

these days, they’re a full-on comedic duo. Luna looks at him and knows he’s about to say something stupid. Dokyeom looks at her and prays she reacts in the most over-the-top way.

Dokyeom: “You know you’re my favorite audience, right?”

Luna: “And you’re my favorite unpaid clown.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

their closeness solidified the moment they were paired for a trainee vocal evaluation duet. they were both already recognized for their vocals, but the moment they sang together, the room was stunned. the harmonies? illegal. their chemistry? undeniable.

after that, they started doing more lessons together with Seungkwan because of their similar ranges. but the real bonding happened when Luna, post-practice, flopped down beside Dokyeom and asked, “So do you actually warm up, or do you just wing it with those high notes?” he laughed so loud he dropped his water bottle. “I warm up! What do you think I am, reckless?” Luna, nodding— “Yes.”

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

they’re the definition of sibling chaos. Dokyeom is the dramatic, loud younger brother type who clings to Luna, pokes her side to annoy her, and suddenly breaks into song at full volume during silent moments. Luna acts like she hates it, but she doesn’t. she never has. she throws pillows at him while hiding a smile, grumbles while letting him braid her hair, and always gives in when he says, “Just one more TikTok, please.” it’s loud. it’s chaotic. it’s healing.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

when it’s just Luna and Dokyeom, it’s like being backstage at a sitcom. she laughs until she wheezes, clutching her stomach while he proudly bows after every dumb joke. but beyond that, they have moments of unexpected peace— like long car rides where they sing along to ballads, harmonizing perfectly, or quiet snack breaks where Dokyeom randomly goes, “You have the most beautiful voice, you know?” and Luna just blinks, emotional, then throws a cookie at him to avoid crying.

Dokyeom: “You gonna cry?”

Luna (teary eyed): “No, shut up, eat your rice cake.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Dokyeom brings out Luna’s: inner goofball— he makes her feel like she can let loose, be dramatic, be silly, and not care about how it looks. around him, she doesn’t need to be polished or intimidating— she can just be Jiyeon, the girl who cackles and sings off-key for fun.

Luna brings out Dokyeom’s: vulnerability. she gives his chaotic sunshine a place to land. with her, he can be deep, honest, and vulnerable. she’s his safe space when his anxiety gets too loud. she’s one of the few people who can look at him and go, “You don’t have to make people laugh all the time. Just be you.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Dokyeom for Luna: DK is her comic relief, emotional support vocalist, and part-time therapist. he knows when she needs to laugh, when she needs to sing, and when she just needs someone to sit next to her in silence.

Luna for Dokyeom: Luna is his emotional anchor, the one who reminds him he’s more than his jokes. she’s one of the first people he goes to when he needs anything. he says she’s got ‘main character energy,’ but what he really means is— she inspires him.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

karaoke nights where they battle for the highest note like it’s a literal war. random duets that always end up on staff members’ phones because “This needs to be archived.” they also have a habit of buying matching snacks at every convenience store stop and doing dramatic CF reenactments in the aisles.

Dokyeom: “You’re the singer, not the actor, remember?”

Luna: “Shh, this is Oscar-worthy.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

they have a running bit where Luna pretends to be a snooty opera singer and Dokyeom acts as her overworked, underpaid vocal coach. Another classic: if someone compliments Dokyeom’s voice, Luna immediately goes, “Wow, and to think I taught him everything he knows.”

also, anytime either of them says ‘emotional ballad,’ the other starts fake-crying while dramatically mouthing a song into a water bottle mic.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

their pre-performance ritual: quick harmonizing warm-ups and a ridiculous handshake involving three claps, a spin, and a “Let’s ruin lives vocally.” they also have a habit of pulling faces at each other mid-stage when the camera isn’t on them.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

the trainee duet evaluation where their harmonies brought literal trainers to tears. Seungkwan cried in the back, claiming it was allergies.

the time Luna lost her voice and Dokyeomspent the whole week speaking for her, complete with a dramatic falsetto. “I am Jiyeon. I demand bubble tea and a nap.”

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Dokyeom:

Kyeomie, Dokyeomie, Seokminie, Minnie Mouse (because of the ‘minie’ in Seokminie), and occasionally ‘King Arthur’ when she’s being sarcastic.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Dokyeom’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie, Ji-Ji, Royal Highness™ or Drama Queen Supreme (when she’s acting particularly bratty in rehearsals.)

iii. CONTACTS

chill guy kyeomie & drama queen supreme jiyeonie

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

it’s entirely bit-based. if one of them does something iconic or stupid, it becomes the contact name for a while. ‘Chill Guy Kyeomie’ came from Luna spamming him with chill guy edits. he cried laughing. ‘Drama Queen Supreme Jiyeonie’ came after a studio session where Luna was pouting about receiving the wrong coffee order with Jeonghan trying to placate her

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Dokyeom’s pic: a screenshot of Dokyeom’s in the chill guy headpiece from the TikTok he did, looking like he’s about to drop the worst mixtape of the year.

Luna’s pic: her in a giant Christmas tree headdress during a fan sign event.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

constantly. but these might stick longer because they’re ‘peak comedy,’ as Dokyeom insists. Luna agrees— plus, her contact photo of him makes her laugh every time she gets a text.

SEUNGKWAN & LUNA ─── KwanNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

If the group was a high school, they’d be the theater kids who sit in the front row of the cafeteria purely to watch drama unfold— and narrate it like it’s an Oscar-worthy film. They’re sass personified who Gossip Girl are based after

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

when Luna first met Seungkwan, she thought he was electric. his energy was loud, flamboyant, unapologetically himself— and she loved every second of it. “You’re like a human vitamin C shot,” she told him during their second vocal class together.

Seungkwan, on the other hand? terrified. “She walked in like the main character of a K-drama and I just knew I had to behave.” he confessed later that he thought Luna was going to be scary— too pretty, too composed, too cool. “She looked like she was judging everyone in the room,” he admitted, and Luna nearly choked laughing. “I was just hungry!”

as time passed, that fear melted quickly. they were assigned to harmonize together during at evaluation and Seungkwan saw the real Luna— funny, down-to-earth, a little unhinged once she warms up. “You’re literally a gremlin,” he told her after she cackled at his Mariah Carey high note impression. “A gorgeous gremlin, but still.” from that moment, they became each other’s human mic stands— always ready to back each other up with shade and harmony.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

their bond began in vocal class but was cemented in chaos. they spent hours doing warm-ups with Seokmin, and eventually made a habit of breaking into musical numbers while waiting for vocal coaches to arrive— one fateful day, while playing a chaotic round of indoor volleyball with Hoshi, Luna, and Seungkwan accidentally shattered a ceiling light. “That’s what we get for having main character energy indoors,” Luna said.

from then on, they were inseparable— singing, gossiping, and lightly traumatizing their vocal teachers with impromptu ad-libs and shameless runs. their volleyball rivalry is the stuff of legend— competitive, loud, and laced with brutal one-liners. “Try not to serve like you’re auditioning for a drama, Boo Seungkwan-ah.” “Try not to spike like you’re throwing a tantrum, noona.”

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

loud. ridiculously loud. the kind of loud that makes managers groan and other members sigh in secondhand embarrassment. they’re the sibling duo that was never related by blood but fully synced by brain cell— singular, because they share one.

Luna calls Seungkwan ‘my second child’ after Hoshi, and Seungkwan embraces the role with dramatic flair. “You mean I’m the favorite,” he says while dramatically fake-fainting into Luna’s arms while Jeonghan agrees absentmindedly.

they’re affectionate but snarky, constantly fake-bickering about who has better taste in music or who’s more booked and busy. It’s giving ‘passionate theatre kid fights in the group chat.’

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

chaotic peace. it’s still loud, but the type of loud that feels healing. you’ll find them whisper-yelling in corners, clutching iced Americanos and shooting each other side-eyes mid-conversation. If one of them hears a story, the other knows within 10 seconds. “Ya. Did you see?” “I SAW. Did you see who was tagged?!” whisper-whisper-gasp. rinse, repeat. their alone time is mostly filled with catching up on their ‘tea quota,’ impersonating the other members, harmonizing girl group songs, and screaming over whatever went viral on Twitter that morning.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Seungkwan brings out Luna’s: sassier side— the one she usually keeps under wraps to stay composed. with him, she’s wilder, louder, lets her inner theater gremlin out. he gives her permission to not always be ‘the cool one,’ and she leans into that freedom hard.

Luna brings out Seungkwan’s: sense of calm and emotional safety. she listens to his rants without judgment, encourages him to rest, and is often the one to hold his hand through breakdowns he doesn’t want others to see. “You’re the only person who lets me complain for 10 minutes and doesn’t tell me to stop being dramatic.” “It’s because I am dramatic, Boo.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Seungkwan for Luna: is the ultimate confidant. her phone call when she’s mad. her midnight FaceTime buddy when she needs to laugh. he’s the friend who lets her be messy, petty, chaotic, and still hands her tissues at the end.

Luna for Seungkwan: is the emotional rock with the mouth of a sailor. she grounds him when he spirals, but roasts him while doing it. “You’re fine. And if you’re not, at least look good while suffering.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

weekly ‘tea catch-up’ sessions— sometimes over iced coffee, sometimes at practice, sometimes under blankets on hotel beds. they also do volleyball matches (strictly 1v1), karaoke sessions where they impersonate trot singers, and impromptu live performances where they harmonize girl group songs with way too much emotion.

Seungkwan: “Let’s cover Antifragile but make it operatic.”

Luna: “Say less.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Seungkwan calls Luna ‘My Rival’ every time she sings a high note he can’t match. Luna calls him ‘Baby Boo’ when he’s being dramatic. they have a running bit where they fake audition for k-dramas in front of mirrors.

they also send each other random side-eye selfies with no context. sometimes in the middle of performances they give each other side-eyes.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

texting each other tea while sitting next to each other. literally. even if they’re on the same couch. “CHECK THIS.” “I SAW IT ALREADY.” “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

making each other laugh during performances by making funny faces at each other or changing their dance moves slightly.

They also always check on each other after long days. “Did you eat?” “No but I’m thriving on spite.” “Same.” “Eat with me.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

when they went viral for side-eyeing each other at the exact same time during an award show. “Our side-eye was synchronized like an Olympic dive,” a fan tweeted.

that legendary karaoke night where they sang Into the Unknown in full Elsa and Olaf cosplay— yes, wigs included. Luna’s was cracking up, Seungkwan fell off the stool, and they ended it with a bow like it was Broadway.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Seungkwan:

Kwannie, Seungkwannie, Kwanzilla (when he’s being dramatic), and Baby Boo. (the more extra he acts, the fancier the nickname.)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Seungkwan’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie Noona, Baby Bae, Her Royal Highness (when she’s being sassy), Queen of Side-Eye, and Mrs. Yoon (a recent one)

iv. CONTACTS

baby boo & noona bae

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

they used to just be ‘Jiyeonie Noona’ and ‘Kwannie’ with selfie photos. but one day, Luna screenshotted a perfect side-eye frame from Seungkwan’s Weverse live and sent it to him with the caption “new contact pic.” he retaliated by cropping Luna’s cringing face from an interview and boom— iconic contact names and photos were born.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Seungkwan’s pic: his legendary side-eye meme from a Weverse live, mid-eye-roll, eyes squinted, giving full judgment.

Luna’s pic: her viral cringing side-eye from that one chaotic interview where she was asked a questionable question. her expression screams, “I want to evaporate.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

only a few times. from normal to chaotic. and now, these meme profiles are locked in for life. “We peaked with these,” Luna said. “There’s no going back.”

VERNON & LUNA ─── SolNa

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

the ‘unbothered sibling duo’— where Vernon is calm incarnate and Luna is the effortlessly cool older sister who enables him like it’s a sport. they’re like if Tumblr soft grunge and a meme account became friends and spoke exclusively in sarcastic monotone.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

Luna spotted Vernon on day 1 and immediately went, “That child is a Disney prince in the wrong country.” she was 1000% convinced he was a child actor flown in for some campaign. “He could play baby Peter Pan or, like, young DiCaprio,” she once whispered to Jeonghan. Vernon, on the other hand, just blinked at her in soft confusion. “She was cool. A little scary. Kind of like a fashionable librarian who secretly knows your secrets” now? they’re those siblings who act like they’re not close in public but absolutely have a shared Dropbox folder of unhinged memes.

Luna: “You were literally adorable. What happened?”

Vernon: “I evolved.”

Luna: “NPC energy. Love that for you.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ how they got close:

it started with Korean lessons— Vernon, having lived in Korea longer than most people realized, would help Luna with the finer points of grammar while she bullied him with affection. he’d be quietly correcting her intonation while she was pinching his cheeks and calling him ‘Nonnie.’ their bond strengthened through Luna’s unchecked cuteness aggression and Vernon’s quiet tolerance of it. over time, he just… let her. even leaned into it. they found rhythm in late-night practice rooms and early vocal drills, with Luna sometimes bringing snacks and Vernon occasionally sharing obscure playlists.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

imagine static noise but with swag. they are the human equivalent of lo-fi beats in AirPods during a fire drill. both are the calmest— if Hoshi is the chaos incarnate and Seungkwan is the dramatic middle child, Vernon is the too-quiet youngest they forget in the car sometimes. Luna enables his spacey behavior, sometimes joining in with a blank stare when he zones out. their shared silence is loud. their mutual confusion is telepathic.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

they talk like frat bros with unfinished liberal arts degrees. “Bro,” “Dude,” “Yo,” and “Deadass” pepper their conversations even when they’re literally discussing skincare routines. they can sit in the same room, headphones in, no eye contact, and still walk out knowing everything about each other’s day. they thrive in casual, mundane chaos. if a camera filmed them, the subtitles would just say “[Vibing in silence].” half the group’s memes are from overhearing the weird shit these two say to each other.

Vernon: “Bro, did you seen the new A24 trailer?”

Luna: “Yeah. I teared up. Didn’t even know what it was about.”

Vernon: “A vibe is a vibe.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Vernon brings out Luna’s: apathetic humor and laid-back side. around him, she doesn’t have to be the perfectionist, the older sister— she can just be. no makeup, hoodie on, glassy-eyed, laughing at some Reddit post. with him, she unplugs.

Luna brings out Vernon’s: social muscle memory— he’ll engage more, talk more, show more expression. she coaxes out that hidden playful side of him he saves for people who ‘get it.’ with Luna, he jokes more, lets himself be dramatic, lets his dry humor flourish. their dynamic is one of mutual soft-core trolling.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Vernon for Luna: is the soft reset button. the non-judgmental sounding board she goes to when she wants to scream but doesn’t want advice. he listens, offers a “that’s rough, dude” and somehow it’s perfect.

Luna for Vernon: is the older sister he never had— who doesn’t force hugs, but will threaten to fight anyone who disrespects him. she hypes him up in private, embarrasses him in public, and has no concept of personal space. and he lets her, because deep down, it’s grounding.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

late-night playlist swaps where they both try to out-hipster each other with SoundCloud finds.

watching obscure movies and rating them like they’re on Letterboxd, even though Vernon actually is on Letterboxd and Luna just bullshits reviews.

Luna: “This movie was like if depression had Wi-Fi.”

Vernon: “That’s actually so real.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

“NPC behavior” is what Luna calls it when Vernon does something suspiciously neutral. he leans into it now.

Luna once ranted to him and all Vernon replied to her was “honestly same” which strangely made her feel better and burst out laughing, so now they say “honestly same” here and there.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

they text each other memes, then proceed to not reply for three days.

Luna ‘borrows’ his hoodies constantly and he lets her because “you wear them more than I do.”

Luna: “Why do I have six of your hoodies?”

Vernon: “Idk. I assume you needed them spiritually.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

a behind-the-scenes clip where Luna is fixing Vernon’s hair mid-interview, completely deadpan, while he’s talking about something existential. the video went viral with the caption “siblings who don’t speak but know everything.”

their accidental twinning moment during a music show when they both showed up in oversized neutral outfits and the stylists told them they looked like a matched set from an H&M ad.

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Vernon:

Hansolie, Sol, Nonnie, Indie Kid, “Jack. Jack, come back.” (whenever she wants to tease him)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Vernon’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie Noona, Luna Noona, My Dude

iv. CONTACTS

hansolie & jiyeonie noona

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

they just stuck with what they called each other. that’s just how they are together.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Vernon’s pic: a blue monogram ‘H’ poster from the phone’s default contact settings.

Luna’s pic: a pink ‘J’ monogram poster from the phone’s default contact settings. Luna could’ve forced a funny photo on him like she did with Woozi, but with Vernon, the nonchalantness was the bit. the lack of chaos was its own inside joke. Luna demanded color coordination at the very least. it’s the only contact in his phone with anything other than the default grey.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

they’ve changed phones. changed numbers. but the contact stayed the same.

DINO & LUNA ─── LuChan

i. OVERVIEW

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ dynamic in one sentence:

the ‘overinvested mom and her youngest son who can do no wrong’ — Luna spoils him senseless and Dino eats that up like it’s a five-star buffet. she mothers him without shame, he lets her without guilt. JeongNa’s eternally babied maknae.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ first impression vs. now:

the first time Luna saw Chan, he was all eyes and smile. he wasn’t even the youngest trainee, but to her? he felt like the youngest— something in the way he bounced into the room like a puppy in socks made her immediately want to adopt him. meanwhile, Chan was in awe. there was something about Luna that felt larger-than-life, like she belonged on the biggest stage already. and he latched on from the jump— an eager sponge, watching her every move and mimicking her dance style in the mirrors when she wasn’t looking. she caught him once and never let it go.

now? Luna still sees him as her baby. Dino doesn’t argue. if anything, he weaponizes it. she’ll pinch his cheeks and go, “My baby dinosaur’s so cute!” and he’ll shoot finger guns and wink: “Only for you, Noona.” barf.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ now they got close:

dance was the bridge. while their styles were wildly different— Dino sharp, precise, hungry; Luna fluid, confident, storytelling-heavy— they admired each other’s craft deeply. they’d stay after training hours just watching each other dance and throwing critiques like “You hit that too hard,” or “You can melt more here.” eventually, these post-practice sessions turned into deep talks about dance inspirations, childhoods, dreams, and why they started. From there, it was over. Dino had his idol and his mentor. Luna had her favorite child.

ii. DYNAMIC

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ energy together:

the definition of a loud mother and her son who uses it to his advantage. Dino is the fourth and youngest child of JeongNa, and it shows. while Luna is loud, dramatic, and endlessly affectionate, Dino matches it with a mischievous calm. he’s goofy around her, playful, constantly poking at her dramatic outbursts just to see how big she’ll go.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ the vibe when it’s just them:

it’s babying central. she’ll cook for him, fluff his hair, call him beautiful 15 times in a row, and Dino will just grin, cheeks stuffed, letting it happen. he thrives in the spotlight of her attention. they hype each other up so loudly their members have walked in and walked right out multiple times. they speak in compliments and giggles. she gets his inner child. he gets her inner nurturer.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ what each brings out in the other:

Dino brings out Luna’s: hyper-maternal instincts in ways no one else can. she’s always mothering people, but with Dino, it’s full send. she’ll rearrange her schedule just to make sure she’s at his solo stage recording. she’s cried at his dance practices like an actual proud mom.

Luna brings out Dino’s: softest sides— the childlike joy he sometimes hides under his professional persona. with her, he doesn’t have to be the ‘future of K-pop.’ He can just be Channie. the baby. the goof. the kid who dances because it makes him feel alive.

“You always make me feel like I can do anything,” he once told her. “That’s ‘cause you can, baby.” Luna replied.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ roles they play in each other’s lives:

Dino for Luna: he’s her emotional support dance child. watching him succeed feels like proof that she did something right. he’s also her eternal mood booster— his texts alone can flip her out of a spiral.

Luna for Dino: She’s part mother, part older sister, part hypewoman, part bestie, part therapist— an all-in-one emotional protein shake. he goes to her when he’s stuck, when he’s down, or when he’s proud and needs to show off. she’s his emotional safety net.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ go-to activities / traditions:

dance battles where they intentionally copy each other’s styles.

cooking together (badly). they once tried making japchae and nearly set the stovetop on fire.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ inside jokes / recurring bits:

Luna calls Dino’s solo dance parts “his power ranger transformation moment” every single time.

Dino once sent Luna a video of a literal baby tripping and said, “Me whenever you’re not around, just so you know.” She cried laughing and made it his birthday card.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ routines / habits:

Luna always messages Dino “good luck” before any solo activity. Dino always replies “For Noona!” like he’s running into battle.

Dino drags Luna to check his choreo drafts. She pretends she’s going to critique harshly, but always ends up gasping and saying, “You’re a genius.”

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ their most iconic shared moments:

that one viral moment during a behind-the-scenes footage where Luna screamed “THAT’S MY BABY!!!” during Dino’s rehearsal and made him turn bright red.

the time Luna threatened to fight a sasaeng on Weverse for stalking Dino. “You mess with him, I mess with your future. Say hi to your principal for me.”

iii. NICKNAMES

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Luna’s nickname for Dino:

Channie, Baby Dinosaur, My Baby

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Dino’s nickname for Luna:

Jiyeonie Noona, Eomma Luna, My #1 fan, Mommy Dinosaur

iv. CONTACTS

my baby dinosaur & my jiyeonie noona

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact names:

very self explanatory. he’s her baby, he’s Dino and she is his only Noona.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ stories behind the contact pictures:

Dino’s pic: a literal baby photo of Dino with his cheeks puffed out. she refuses to change it.

Luna’s pic: a baby pic of her with her short bob and bangs and a shy smile on her face.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ have they changed their contacts over time?:

not in years. the nicknames and baby pics have remained consistent across multiple phones, even after backups. neither of them have the heart to change it. “Why mess with perfection?” Luna says. Dino just grins and replies, “Exactly.”

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @zhqvie @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013 @frankenstein852 @axleighkaize @jmkookie01 @shhh94 @gigglensnort @stupendouscookiehumanmug

286 notes · View notes

heathermason6060 · 7 months ago

Text

Serial Killer!Rick Grimes x f!Reader Smut: Trophies

Warnings/Mentions: Murder, use of alcohol, Rough sex, choking, slapping, biting, hair pulling, spitting, overstimulation, Rick is a sadist in bed and gift giving is his love language, but also just likes to see you wearing belongings of people he's killed

Summary: Rick gets tired of putting his kill trophies in a box, so he puts them on you instead. Then you fuck.

Notes: I finally got around to finishing this yippee! There's 2 smut scenes, first is kind of short and tame, and the one at the end is a few pages long and contains the more aggressive parts. Somewhat proofread!!

There were many routines in your life, and the lives of the people around you.

Rick was no exception.

Any time he'd leave the prison he'd go through the checklist in his mind; revolver, ammunition, his machete, water and a little bit of food.

And his cassette player, with that single tape.

Every note of the unnamed female's voice was engraved deep into his brain. He knew every hum and breath, every strum of her gentle fingers across her guitar.

It was just some tape he'd found. Didn't have a sentimental meaning to it from life before, wasn't some artist he was a fan of. He found it in that old rundown music store the two of you spent a night in back in Atlanta, and he took it.

You'd seen him with it plenty of times but you'd never actually seen him listen to it. You never gave it a second thought until you were on a run together, driving in silence down the long winding back roads.

You asked if he wanted to play his tape on the car stereo, and his friendly calm demeanor was instantly replaced with that look you'd only seen very few times.

“No.” The look on his face was enough to change your entire mood for the day.

His later attempts at cheering you up were only met with feigned smiles and laughter, something he was quick to pick up on.

“Why don't we go see that river you told me about, long time ago.” He looked over at you in the passenger seat, giving you that trademark Rick Grimes smile.

“Oh, if it's not out of the way, yeah.” You shrugged. It was clear you were still feeling unnerved by the ice thrown in your direction for seemingly no reason.

“If there's as many fish as you said there were, then it don't matter.”

“Okay, yeah, should be fun.”

Rick grinned when he could sense your attitude reaching a more positive level. “Alright. River first thing in the morning. Know of any place around here we can camp out for the night?”

“There's some old camping grounds a few miles up from the entrance point to the river. They used to set up tents near this fishing shed, tents are probably gone but the shed won't be. There's a few larger cabins up the same road but I have a feeling they're probably occupied. Was a real nice place.”

Rick nodded and continued driving.

He said, come wander, with me, love

Rick closed his eyes as he sat in the front room in the largest cabin. If his timing was right, they should be walking up the steps now.

Now at the door. Now opening the door. Now walking in. Now they saw him.

It was careless, what he was doing. Careless. You were asleep down the road in that little fishing shed, you could wake up at any minute and find the bedroll next to you cold and empty. Get worried, wait a few minutes, then get out your gun and come looking for him. It was stupid.

He just couldn't help himself. It'd been so long.

He opened his eyes.

One woman, three men. The first man was scrawny, easy. Rick could take him out with little to no effort. The woman was a bit chubby, but very short. She looked horrified already, she'd be easy too.

The other two men would be a bit of a challenge. Tall and well built.

Their mouths moved as they stared at the strange man sitting in their house. He could make out a few ‘what’s but that was about it.

He caught them off guard by walking right up to them.

First big man caught a knife to the head. The other pulled his gun and shot, barely missing Rick's shoulder.

Rick yanked the knife free and grabbed a wrist, pinning it against the front door, smashing over and over against the wood until his grip spasmed, and the gun fell with a clatter.

The woman was pulling at him like a sick dog. He reared back and elbowed her in the face, breaking her nose and knocking her unconscious. She fell to the floor with a thud, and the scrawny man dropped to check on her.

Rick turned back to the man he had pinned against the wall. He was angry, cursing, little white bubbles of foamy spit spraying from his lips. A trembling hand reached up, desperate to poke an eye or anything that could potentially stun Rick, only succeeding in ripping out the buds in the older man's ears.

He set his jaw as his heart began to race. Now it would get sloppy.

Rick reared back, and slammed his head forward so hard he felt the bridge of his nose instantly crack against his forehead. Blood spewed from his nose down his face, spraying Rick in the process.

The man reeled before collapsing. The hard part was over. The easier ones were more of a chore.

Rick stood back and admired his work.

The woman had a plastic bag over her head, but it was still obvious she'd been bludgeoned. Poor thing, didn't even wake up before she'd been so brutally slaughtered.

The scrawny man had his neck snapped. It was by complete accident, Rick didn't expect him to be so… fragile. He laid in the living room next to the woman and the first man he'd stabbed.

Rick looked down at the dog tags in his hand. They were fake, he could tell that much. Ordered at some flea market from cheap metal. The back had worn away to copper.

He balled up the rest of his rope and stuffed it in his duffle bag before finally leaving, the pleads and begging falling on deaf ears.

It took their people three days to find them.

“You, that's the man that killed Javier. I saw you leaving the same night we found him.”

That didn't alarm you. You knew Rick had killed people before. The words that followed soon after were a different story.

It was the third day of your scavenging run. The first day you spent on the road looking for a spot. The second day you spent on the river, mostly fishing and picking out places on a crinkled old map to go on the third day.

You'd just woken up, eyes still foggy with sleep as you walked out of the fishing shed to see Rick standing in front of a small group of people.

“Your man was a threat to my people.” Rick used the barrel of his revolver as he spoke like some sort of pointer rod, making the three strangers flinch each time it aimed at one of them.

“No. You tied him up like a skinned deer, was he still alive when you cut his stomach open?” Their leader's questioning was cut off with a quick gunshot to the head.

You gasped, not expecting that, and brought your hand to cover your mouth.

“No!” A blonde woman shrieked and fell to her knees beside her lover's limp body. She looked up to Rick then, venom in her spit as she spoke. “You're worse than the dead ones!”

Rick killed her just as well as the silent man behind her. Then it was just you and him, and now you were the mute.

You weren't thinking, really. Your eyes were still wide and burning from not blinking, staring into the pile of bodies that had been alive only seconds ago.

“Hey, you alright?” His voice was back to normal and you blinked, seeing he was now knelt beside you with that familiar look of compassion. That was the Rick you knew, not that cold thing that used his body only minutes before.

“Yeah, just, I wasn't expecting that.” You breathed. Your lips and fingers felt numb, despite it being a warm October day.

Rick nodded, looking down at the dirt between his feet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I keep forgetting you're not as… seasoned as the rest of us.”

No. That wasn't it.

You were no stranger to killing, but the people you killed were in self defense.

What Rick just did was cold blooded murder. And the way he made it seem like the most normal thing a man could do had your chest feeling tight.

“I'm hungry.” It was all you could think to say.

He snorted at that, taken aback by your words. “Hungry? Okay. You okay staying here for a few? I can go search that old country store down the road.”

You nodded, glancing at the bodies only a few feet away. He followed your gaze and squeezed your knee to redirect your attention back to him.

“Keep your radio on. I'll just be a little while, okay?” He smiled when you nodded. “Don't use your gun unless you have to.”

You were thankful he drug the bodies away before he left.

Come wander with me.

Rick took a deep breath.

It had been two weeks, his self control was slowly slipping. He'd gone a year without killing once, when Carl was born. At the time it was easy.

The old brown house, threatening to crumble at any moment from the massive amounts of dry rot and termites, was a perfect place to look for people out on their own. They loved staying in the inconspicuous hole in the walls, places that you would never notice unless you were desperate and terrified.

He moved out of the shadows and dug his knife into the base of a skull. They died in his arms and he held them there, closing his eyes as the struggles grew weaker and weaker, until they finally stopped all at once.

He opened his heavy lids to see a woman screaming, her hands covering her mouth from the opposite side of the small living room. The buds in his ears prevented him from hearing most of it.

Rick let the lifeless body slide from his arms, and stood. He was quick as he walked towards her, grabbing her by her hair and letting out a disappointed ‘tsk’ at her state of shock. She could have easily escaped but she chose to stay there and wail.

He came from the sunset, he came from the sea.

Rick held her against his chest as she squirmed in his arms, pounding her fists against his chest, her movements futile, weak from starvation and dehydration. He closed his eyes again as he held her there, dragging his knife up the base of her spine. He could hear her screams now, they'd transformed from anger to terror, dry screeches as she pleaded for her life.

Rick found his thoughts drifting to you, and now it was your voice humming in his ears, replacing the unknown feminine voice he'd grown so accustomed to.

You truly were a sight to behold. Even if it was just in his mind.

A sharp kick to his knee snapped the image of you out of his mind, and sent him into a state of anger. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth before yanking her head to the side, looking down at her soft tanned skin.

A mother Mary coin sat at the base of her throat, dangling on a thin chain, only for a second before Rick gently took it off.

She jerked against him as she realized she was bleeding, streams of warm blood gushing down her neck and chest.

Her already weak movements became weaker as she bled out, only managing to give a last ditch attempt of escape when his knife was removed from her throat. Her jerking against him stilled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes glued to hers as he watched her blue eyes turn glossy.

Rick took the earbuds from his ears and put them in the back pocket of his jeans, along with the necklace.

He wouldn't need to put his trophies in a box anymore.

You smiled in surprise as you looked at the jewelry in your open palm.

“Do I seem the religious type?” You mused, running your finger over the gold oval. Mother Mary. You didn't expect Rick to think of you when seeing something like that.

“No.” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so sweet then, the orange reflections of the campfire dancing across his face.

You wanted to question him, ask him where he found it and why he decided you were fit to wear it, but your lips closed when he moved to put it around your neck.

He was gentle, gentle as he moved your hair over your shoulder, and gentle as he closed the clasp and brushed your hair back in its original position.

“Thanks Rick. It's really pretty.” Your fingers stroked the charm at your neck, the metal warm from being in his back pocket. You decided then you didn't care to know about the where or the why, the hows or why there was dried blood on the back of it.

“Dinners ready. Go get Daryl and come eat.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smiled. He was looking at you, but not really looking at you.

“Okay.”

You managed to drag Daryl down from the watchtower for dinner without much complaining. But to your confusion, the group only stayed around the table for about ten minutes to chat, eat their roasted trout and canned asparagus, and then they left. Not one at a time either.

When you finished the last few bites of your dinner, Rick took you into the warden's office, a nice secluded space with comfortable chairs and a pretty brown desk table.

You looked up from the table to see Rick walking back with a bottle of wine in hand, a sly smile on his face.

You raised a brow and smirked as he poured it into two plastic cups, setting yours in front of you before sitting down.

“This what I think it is?” You teased, taking a sip of wine to cool your nerves. You were anxious as hell, although your calm and amused exterior didn't show it.

Was Rick Grimes, leader of your group, seriously flirting with you? Beyond the usual innocent playfulness?

“Depends on what you think it is. Date? Yes. Work conference? No.” He took a sip.

“So, you just tell them all to stay away from here? They know?” You suddenly blushed at the idea of the group knowing Rick was sweet on you. It felt like dating the cool kid in school all over again.

“Well, not exactly that, but yeah, they know.” He looked at you then in a way that made you nervous. It was the way he used to look at Lori. All soft eyed and smiles.

You barely knew him, like really knew him, you hung around Carol, Carl and Glenn more than anyone else, it just felt too out of place for you to hang out with Rick or Daryl. That role was better suited for Maggie or Michonne.

When he had asked you to go out on that run a few days ago with him, just him, you were stunned. And now here he was, serving you dinner and fancy wine like you were his wife.

“Why? I mean, why me?”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you thoughtfully, as if he didn't quite know the answer himself. He took another sip of wine before answering.

“I don't know why. I just know I like you.”

You grinned a bit at that. “You like me, huh? It's cause of my Kardashian looks isn't it?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “Kardashian looks huh? Yeah, sure.”

The tension from your end quickly faded the more you talked.

You couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of guilt the more Rick flirted with you. Lori had died not too long ago, and even though he seemed completely fine, you worried it was him finding unhealthy ways to cope.

You didn't know he already had a lifelong coping mechanism, and you were another thing entirely.

Murder was always common in the apocalypse. You'd seen more victims of humans than you could count.

Moving into Alexandria though, it seemed like almost every time you went outside the walls you'd find a new dead body a few miles away, obviously done by a human and not the dead.

“Jesus.” Daryl muttered, using a stick to move a dead man's head to the side, showcasing the dramatic knife wound to his cheek.

“They're getting closer to home.” You muttered, looking down at the body near your feet as Daryl poked at it.

“Yeah.” He agreed. He dropped his stick and stood up, shaking his head. “Sorry sonvabitch that did this better hope he don't come any closer.”

That night Rick gave you another piece of jewelry. A silver thumb ring, long but not visually remarkable.

“This is actually really pretty.” You said as you slipped it on your thumb, opposite hand of the other ring Rick gave you in the past.

“Yeah?” Rick grinned, looking over his shoulder as he took the dishes from dinner to his sink.

He'd invited you over for dinner. You appreciated it, it had been a while since you had time alone with the man. You'd begun to miss him and his daring flirtation.

“Yeah, don't need to worry about it snagging on anything either. Can wear it when I go out.” Your fingers continued fidgeting with the ring, spinning it around your thumb as you watched him clean up.

He dried his hands and walked over to you, offering out a hand, an act that made your stomach do flips. “I'm glad you like it.”

You took his hand, warm, his fingers so large and thick they made yours look like they belonged to a pianist in comparison.

He led you from your seat at the dining room table to his living room, leaving you on the couch while he went to dig through a basket.

You watched him from your spot on the couch as he put a DVD in the player under the living room tv. You wondered then, would they be gone all night? Carl, Michonne, Daryl? Did he tell them to find somewhere else to sleep for the night?

You blushed wildly at the idea of everyone in Alexandria knowing Rick was trying to have sex with you.

“How long will they be gone?” You blurted.

Rick turned to you after turning on the TV, a brow raised. “Couple hours. Why?”

“Well, if it's gonna be a sleepover I gotta get my stuff.” You laughed nervously, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward and timid.

“I didn't plan on it, but,” he groaned dramatically as he plopped down onto the cushy couch next to you, “-the idea is tempting.”

You realized you were wrong in your assumption that he was trying to get laid. Fuck. That was embarrassing.

He seemed open to it though, right? Or were you just so touch deprived that you were fooling yourself into reading him the wrong way?

You watched the first Twilight movie and laughed most of the time, but you caught Rick watching intently at the baseball scene.

“I'm so pissed the outbreak had to happen when it did. We were two months away from the sequel. Two months! That means they finished it and it's on some hard drive somewhere, never to be seen.”

Rick smiled at your complaining, that same look of strange admiration on your face.

You still didn't know how to react to it, on one hand, it was extremely flattering and you were starting to get turned on, but on the second hand it rationally was a little off-putting. Maybe he really did just have a thing for you, maybe it was just as simple as that.

His gaze should've made you blush and swoon, and it definitely did, but… there was something about it that set your teeth on edge. Far too intimidating.

“Maybe we'll find it one day.”

“That would be the day we have a real slumber party. Popcorn, sodas, everything.”

“Yeah? Gonna braid each other's hair too?” He teased.

You scoffed and playfully punched his shoulder. The man didn't even budge, like he was made of stone. “Can you braid?”

“Damn good at it.”

You gaped at him in amused disbelief. “No shot!”

“C'mere.” Rick's knees spread and he tapped his shoe on the floor between his feet.

You gulped some wine before quickly shrugging, and got on the floor, your feet tucked neatly under your butt.

His hands felt illegally good. He brushed your hair over your shoulders and ran his fingers through it, from your roots down to the ends. Each time his fingertips ran down your scalp you were given a fresh wave of goosebumps, and when they brushed against the back of your neck you visibly shivered.

Rick wasn't lying. He managed to give you a beautiful braid, working with what was given to make something you'd be happy to wear on a fancy date. You ran your fingers over the braid and scoffed in shock.

“It's so pretty.” You admired the way the necklace he had given you back at the prison was on full view, no longer hidden or covered by your hair. It sat right at your collarbone, and the neckline of your black and red dress framed it perfectly.

When Rick said ‘wear something nice’ for dinner you immediately panicked and went to Rosita. She picked out a beautiful dress for you, it was classy but not over the top, pretty to look at but also comfortable to lay around in.

You looked at him in the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you again, but different this time.

Less wholesome admiration, more… desire. He had little readable expression but the bit you could read had your lower stomach flipping with excitement.

You turned to face him and took a second to appreciate the way the black button up shirt hugged his muscles just so slightly. It wasn't the cover of some smutty werewolf or vampire novel, but fuck, it had your knees feeling weak.

“Told you.”

It took you a moment to process what he meant, but when you did, you smiled and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you did. Where'd you learn to braid like this?”

“Same place they taught me how to pick up women.” He winked. You both laughed.

You ended up back on the couch with a different movie put in. Neither of you were paying any attention to it though, your focus slowly shifting to each other.

“Think they'll be back soon?” You had the courage to flirt all of a sudden.

Maybe it was the wine that had loosened you up, or maybe it was the fact he looked so hot in that shirt and smelled like sandalwood and jasmine.

“Hm, maybe.” He flirted back, an edge of tauntful tease to his voice. “Why?”

“Well, usually after a date goes this well…” You trailed off and wiggled your eyebrows. Your boldness surprised the both of you, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

“Yeah? What's that?” He hummed, his smile slowly fading when he looked from your eyes to your lips.

“Girl shows the guy a good time.”

“That right?” He leaned in, and you could smell his cologne stronger than before. You closed your eyes and bit back a sigh.

“Maybe, I don't know. Never been on a date this good.” You leaned in, mirroring his movements, looking down to his lips.

“How about the guy shows the girl a good time, huh? How about that?” His voice was breathy then, warm and smelling like expensive wine.

You nodded and he smiled, breaking past the last few inches to kiss you.

He was so soft. His hands cupped your cheeks with a featherlight caress, and his lips were equally as gentle. He moved them against yours, his tongue slipping out to trace along your wine stained lips. You parted your lips and moaned at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

Rick guided you on your back, just as gentle as every man you'd seen on all those romance movies you pretended to cringe at. His hand under the small of your back had a wave of wetness seeping out of you, you had underestimated how truly touch starved you were.

It wasn't long before he had led you up to his bedroom. You were astonished at how neat everything was. Bed was made, sheets looked fresh out of the wash.

He had his revolver laid out on his dresser along with a few other melee weapons, his machete, axe, and a long dagger. Everything was perfectly organized.

And there, in the duffel bag peeking out from under his bed, sat his cassette player.

Once the door was closed behind him he wasted no time in undressing you, popping open the buttons on the back of your dress. He moved slow and meticulously, brushing the sleeves off your shoulders to plant a few kisses on the warm skin there.

You sighed at his touch and pressed your back against his chest, aching to feel him envelop you in his warmth.

He took his hands away from your sides to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt but you turned and placed your hand on top of his. He looked at you curiously and you returned a sheepish smile.

“You look really good in these clothes.”

He grinned when he realized your intentions and he left his shirt buttoned, save for the three at the top.

Rick looked unbelievably sexy then, a few golden curls of chest hair visible from the slit in his shirt, his hair slightly ruffled from your hands, and a face so blown with lust that you could touch yourself to it for more than one orgasm.

Then he had you on his bed sprawled out for him, your arms lying above your head as you watched him unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. When he pulled the zipper down, and pulled his cock out, you literally whimpered at the sight. It was beautiful, like the picture perfect example of a male penis. Perfect girth, perfect length, even the mess of brown and blonde pubes were stunning.

You could go on forever about Rick Grimes’ dick.

He gave a smug smirk as he moved to take his place over you, pulling down your dress the rest of the way and immediately planting his smug little face between your legs.

You gasped and threw your head back against the mattress. He nuzzled your clothed clit with his nose, inhaling your scent and sneakily stroking his dick with his right hand. With the other he held onto your left thigh, fingers digging into the skin there.

He took his time working you up, licking and sucking and even once nipping your clit through the fabric of your panties.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he pulled his head away and went to take your panties off.

He stopped your hand and you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“These look really good on you.” He smirked.

Your head fell back into the mattress when he pulled your panties to the side. Thank GOD you took the cute panties Rosita offered you. If you were wearing one of your practical sets of underwear you would've died from embarrassment.

He rubbed his finger through your folds, gathering your slick to rub across your clit. You let out a pathetic whine and grabbed fistfuls of cotton sheets beside your head.

He took his time. He slipped in his middle finger up to the knuckle, curling it painfully slowly. Bless Lori, or whoever the fuck taught him that. You were definitely coming tonight.

“Rick, ah, mmm, god.” A hot puff of air from your lips blew a stray lock of hair from your face, a result from your braid having become messy.

He tsked once and drew his finger back, wiping the wetness off on the head of his cock.

You were basically on the edge of your seat at this point, leaning up on your elbows to watch every move he made.

He ran his hands over your torso, ignoring your breasts which made you whine in disappointment.

His eyes flicked up to you, and you were filled with an unexplainable sense of anxiety. Like there was something in you, dating way back to when you needed instincts to survive. Your instincts were telling you that you needed to leave, now. You were in danger.

Every hair on your arms, thighs, the back of your neck, they all prickled. Your upper lip twitched, as if it wanted to pull back and show him your teeth.

“You just tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” His voice was low.

Your blood ran cold.

“What?” You whispered, your bottom lip trembled, and you found breathing became a difficult task.

He repeated himself, his voice still just as low, that same dangerous look on his face. He moved quickly.

He was inside you before you had time to adjust, his hand covering your mouth to muffle the pained noises you made. He groaned into your neck and buried himself deeper inside you, his dick twitching as your walls spasmed around him. He pulled out slowly, savoring the tight drag of your hot cunt, before plunging back in.

Rick was rough, rougher than you could have ever predicted. It was so strange, earlier he was so soft and gentle. He fucked you hard and rough like that for a few long minutes before flipping you over on your stomach.

His hands were on your hips. His fingers digging painfully into your soft skin. He used his upper body weight to render your lower half helpless beneath his open palms.

He groaned as he watched his dick disappear back into you, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and his mouth hanging open.

“Je-jesus christ.” Your moan was strangled in your throat as his hands closed around your neck.

You didn't have time to take a preparation breath, he squeezed quick and hard, immediately cutting off all blood and air flow to your brain. You tried to pry his fingers away and off of you but he didn't relent, only squeezing harder.

Your vision blurred and your head swam with thick panic, you dug your fingernails into the back of his hand until his grip loosened.

The lungful of air you sucked in felt fresher than any breath you'd ever taken. You didn't have long before his fist was in your hair, yanking your head to the side to stuff your discarded panties into your mouth.

You whimpered in protest but he just shoved your face into his pillows and plowed deeper into you.

It wasn’t quick at all, quite the opposite.

He fucked you like that for what felt like hours. It was realistically maybe twenty minutes, but that was still a long time to get fucked.

Your body trembled underneath him from the exhaustion of back to back orgasms. He had already came inside you once, and you felt a small sense of relief, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He just moaned into your neck and continued battering your insides.

You were spent. Every part of your body ached, your pussy felt raw and your clit throbbed painfully. Your stomach and chest chafed against his comforter, and right before it got too much he flipped you over.

Rick looked down at you like you were a painting he finally finished after months of perfecting.

He slid his warm rough hands over your chest, pinching your sore nipples, squeezing your red breasts.

His eyes found your necklace and he rolled his hips, earning a muffled whine in response. Then they found the ring on your middle finger, and rolled into you again. The thumb ring on your other hand. Your body shivered when he slammed his pelvis forward.

You couldn’t respond in any way, you pulled your panties from your dry mouth and panted, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He changed completely after he finished. He peppered kisses all over you, sweet and soft against your cheeks, down your neck and chest, tender and soft on your nipples.

He took care of you after, he cleaned you with a cool rag and brought you one of his white t shirts to change into. He silently asked you to stay the night with more gentle kisses after you attempted to leave.

You shouldn't have been snooping, you knew it was wrong.

The song felt chilling after what you’d witnessed throughout your time in knowing him, and the night you'd shared.

You sat at the foot of his bed and listened, unaware of the way your fingers had begun to twitch around the tape player.

Something about it felt wrong, like you were listening to Gloomy Sunday after hearing the legend surrounding it as a child again. Your heart raced as the song finished and you put the cassette player back where you found it, in his duffle bag at the foot of his bed.

You made it down the stairs before you rounded the corner and smacked right into a large chest.

“Jesus woman.”

You let out a breath when you saw it was Daryl. Covered in dirt and smelling like cigarettes and gasoline, a familiar sight that sets you at ease.

“Shit, sorry.”

He'd been slightly annoyed at the way you startled him, but something had caught his eye and his irritation faded.

“Y'alright?” He grunted, looking at you with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You nodded. He eyed you suspiciously before leaving without a goodbye, heading up the stairs to Rick's room.

“He's not here.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at you. “Where's he at then?”

“I don't know.”

You found out the reason for his staring when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd need to wear turtlenecks for the next few days.

Rick was thrown off his game without his music. He was more aggressive, sloppy, and hateful in the way he killed.

“Please!” His voice sounded pathetic. It made Rick curl his top lip in disgust as he watched him squirm against his restraints, the bodies of his loved ones littering the ground next to him.

“Don't leave me here.” He begged as the chill of night crept through the thick trees they found themselves in. It carried the smell of rain, rotten leaves and cigarette butts.

“Give me one good reason.” Rick held his bloodied machete as he observed the man.

Young, maybe early twenties. Black hair, a black ‘beard’, which was too patchy to really qualify as one, and an orange sweater. The sweater had been mostly stained a reddish brown from his blood, and the blood of his friends, which all had the mercy of a better fate than what awaited him.

His body sagged as he twisted against the pine, his wrists burning and bruising from the frayed rope.

“I'm a good man. Never done anything wrong. Never killed, never raped anyone-”

“Aw, well, ain't that nice of you?” Rick sneered, slipping the machete in the back of his belt. “How gracious.”

“I got a dog, man, please.”

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking his machete back out again.

The man erupted into more begging and crying as Rick approached him. He let out a short lived scream before looking down to see his hands were now freed and in front of him.

“Wh-”

“Ten seconds.” Rick's revolver felt firm in his grip. “Ten,”

The man stood stunned for a moment, holding his aching wrists, his eyes darting from Rick to the bodies at their feet.

“Nine.” Rick's voice was louder then, like a father giving his child one last warning to start acting straight.

“Eight!”

The man took off through the woods, and there was no reason to count any longer.

You ran your fingers over the cold metal in your hands. It was stunning, something you never would've dreamed of holding before the outbreak. A gold chain, thin but strong. Not dainty enough that it could be broken off with a snag.

Small red beads dangled from the chain, twelve rubies spread out along the length. They looked like little drops of wine.

“Where did you get this?”

It was the first time you'd asked him a question before thanking him for his gifts.

He silently took the bracelet from your hands and clasped it around your wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the veins of your arms.

“In a jewelry box. That neighborhood I stopped at last week.”

You watched his fingers part from your wrist and the dangling rubies sway. You knew it was a lie.

“You ever get stuff like this for anyone else?”

He chuckled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving your form. “No.”

You looked over your shoulder at him and sighed, unable to keep the smirk from spreading on your face when you saw the way he was looking at you. “You know, I really like sweets too.”

He raised a brow and broke into a grin. “Sweets, of course,right. What, chocolates? Candy?”

“Mhmm. Dark chocolate with sea salt. Or, chocolate with raspberries.” Your mouth watered as you recalled the old luxuries you'd once taken for granted.

“Alright. Noted.”

Being alone with Rick in his house was something that should've scared you. Especially considering what you'd seen in the past, and the darker side of him in bed.

But looking at him in his form fitting white tee-shirt, the fireplace covering him in a warm orange glow, your degenerate lust filled brain made none of that matter.

“C'mere.” His hand beckoned you to him from its spot on the back of the couch.

You hesitated for appearances, not wanting to come off too eager, before eventually giving in and leaning back.

His arm slipped from the couch above you and wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace.

You rested your cheek on his chest and inhaled the smell of his cologne. It was deep and dark, you recognized it as his bottle of “Leather and Embers”, whatever the hell that meant. As you savored the smell he pressed his face into your scalp and soaked in your smells, rose and eucalyptus shampoo, wisteria lotion. It was so light and feminine and so utterly you that just the smell made his dick twitch in his jeans.

“Gonna go on a supply run with a few others tomorrow. Need some ammo. You wanna join me?”

“Depends.” You pretended to think about it for a second, a playful smirk on your lips. “Who’s all going?”

Rick hummed and squinted, playing along with your thoughtful act. “Me, Carol, Aaron, Glenn, Maggie. Daryl might come, hasn’t decided yet.” You snorted at the idea of Daryl ever turning down work.

“All of us gonna fit in that itty-bitty car?”

“Taking separate cars. Cover more area that way.” His hand gave your shoulder a slight squeeze and you looked up to see him leaning in for a kiss. You met him halfway and smiled against his lips as his other arm wrapped around you.

You grinned, full of pride, as you walked through the gap between two small houses to find Rick, holding two ammunition boxes. One was half full of buckshot shells, the other completely full of 9mm ammo.

He started searching the first house on the block, so he should be at the third right about-

You froze in the doorway as you took in the scene in front of you.

You could see the back of Rick standing in the center of the dining room, the bodies of one man and two women laid across the long table in front of him.

He was taking earbuds out from his ears and putting them into his back pocket, his hands so covered in blood that his fingers seemed to melt together.

You must've made a noise because he turned around.

What was once a look of serenity instantly turned like the tides of an ocean. His eyes no longer resembled a warm blue sky, instead a clash of dark and stormy gray.

His lips moved in the form of your name, but you didn't react.

You looked from body to body, taking in the gruesome ways they'd been killed. One woman had her throat slit with so much force that you could see bone.

Another had countless stab wounds in her chest and a few on her neck. It looked angry, and much more violent than anything you'd ever been unfortunate enough to see.

The man had been gutted, his organs sloshing out of him to lay between his body and what you assumed to be the body of his wife.

Your body didn't react when his hands grabbed your shoulders. You didn't even notice that he'd approached you, his hands raised, his knees slightly bent to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.

When he turned you around to lead you out of the house you caught a glimpse of three chocolate bars in a plastic bag sitting at the front door.

“I need you to look at me.”

You blinked and took in your new surroundings. You were sitting on the hood of your car, his bloodied hands on your knees. The contrast of deep red against your skin had a groan catching in your throat.

Rick's voice snapped your name and you looked to his face. He looked prepared, as if he'd imagined this scenario countless times before.

“What you just saw-”

“I know.”

“No, you don't. I had to, I-”

“Rick.” The coldness of your voice had him forgetting the way he'd been frustrated at you for interrupting him again. “You don't lie to me. Not me.”

His face softened, but he felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat and chest. He nodded, his eyes falling away from yours to look at your knees.

When he saw the blood he drew his hands away as if he'd been stung.

“You killed them and you liked it.”

As quick as a snake his hand shot out and grabbed the base of your throat. His eyes were back on yours now, freezing you with a cold stare. “It’d be in your best interest to forget what you saw here.”

Your body didn't react the way either of you expected it to. You grabbed at his wrist and let out a whimper, your thighs clenching together so hard they trembled.

His grip loosened as he saw your form tremble under him, not from fear, but arousal. He furrowed his brows and looked back to your eyes, studying each and every flicker in them.

It was an unsteady standoff, neither of you knowing which move to make next. He experimented and tightened his hand again, earning another whimper from your lips.

He took it a step further and with his other bloodied hand, he slipped his fingers between your knees, gently spreading them apart.

With your thighs spread he filled the gap with his waist. He hooked two fingers in the belt loops of your shorts and tugged you down the hood closer to him, your pelvis bumping against the semi he had growing in his jeans.

Rick groaned at the contact and leaned in to plant his face in the crook of your neck, his hand departing from your throat to trail down your chest. He toyed with the gold coin of your necklace, rubbing his fingertips over the warm metal.

“Rick-”

“No, shh-shh-shh, you were being so good.” He groaned, his jeans rubbing your thighs as he softly pushed against you.

“I just, a shower, let's wait-”

He growled in your ear and squeezed your thighs so tightly you let out a yelp. “No, think I'll have you right here.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine and before you could react, he pushed you flat on your back.

You were finally there, your muscles relaxing and your eyes closing, ready to surrender to Rick and let him have his way. But as always, something had to go wrong.

The gurgling sound of a walker snapped you from your daze.

Rick pulled away from you and used the machete from his belt to take out the first two.

“Rick!” You called in a nervous voice, your eyes locked on the group of walkers behind the car.

“Shit. Alright, get in.” He cursed and opened the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat, pulling your knees back just in time to avoid the heavy metal door being slammed after you.

Your eyes followed Rick round the front of the car. Then, as if he was playing some weird joke, he took his hand back from the door handle and ran back into the house.

“Fuck.” You whispered, watching three walkers follow him to the door. You had your hand on the car door handle, ready to jump out after him and help, but before you could dig out your knife he reappeared in the doorway.

You shook your head when he finally sat down beside you and started the car.

He plopped the bag in your lap and you stared down at it.

The three chocolate bars.

“I know you said dark chocolate, salt and raspberries n’whatnot. But this is all I could find.” He said it like he was apologizing, like he was dissatisfied with his findings.

“Rick, I haven't had chocolate in so long that it could be some nasty rainbow white chocolate with sprinkles and I'd love it. Fuck.” You unwrapped the first bar and snapped off a small square.

As soon as it hit your tongue you moaned, completely forgetting the scene from earlier. It was your favorite type, something you hadn't had in God knows how long.

Rick smiled fondly as you swirled the chocolate around your tongue, looking at you the same way he'd looked at you at dinner, the same way he used to look at Lori.

You were blissfully unaware, your eyes closed as you savored the flavor.

He bit his bottom lip and looked back to the road ahead, slowing down as he passed the road that the others had gone down.

He raised a hand out the open window to Glenn, who'd returned a thumbs up, going inside to gather the others to head back home.

“Want a bite?”

You smiled sweetly as he looked back to you and the open Butterfinger that was in your left hand, your favorite chocolate in your right.

“Indulging ourselves, are we?” He smirked playfully as he took the Butterfinger from you and took a heaping bite. It was so big he'd taken half the bar and you scoffed, smacking his shoulder.

“Geeze! Talk about being indulgent!” You teased and snatched the chocolate back, finishing it off with three more bites.

You ate your sweets in silence, and soon it had turned from a comfortable silence to a thick cloud of tension when you pulled up to the gates of Alexandria.

He called your name and you forced yourself to look at him.

Rick's expression was hard to gauge.

It almost seemed like a mask, now that you'd seen what he was capable of doing, it felt like you were sitting beside a stranger. Your heart sped up, you were suddenly scared of saying or doing the wrong thing, sending him into aggression or something worse.

“Yeah?” Your voice sounded foreign to you. Almost as foreign as the way Rick was looking at you.

He waited a few painfully long moments before the essence of a smirk formed on his lips that were still speckled with blood. “I'm making dinner tonight. You should come.”

You blew out a lungful of air and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I will.”

“Wear somethin’ nice.” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn't have time to ask him to clarify before the gates opened and he drove you in.

You felt a bit ridiculous in your dark blue dress. It was extremely snug, almost uncomfortable, ending right at your knees, drawing attention to the curve and dip of your hips and waist. There was no one else for dinner, thank god, because you felt seconds away from a panic attack.

Fettuccine noodles with Carol's homemade alfredo sauce. Despite your painful anxiety you wolfed the creamy noodles down, along with a heaping glass of dark red wine.

It was painfully tense. You found yourself wondering how the car ride home had been completely fine, it hadn't been awkward at all, not until you pulled up to the gates. It might have been the adrenaline and shock.

Now it had worn off and you were finishing your second glass of wine, praying for the buzz to kick in so you wouldn’t feel like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack anymore.

“Can we talk?” His voice made you jump. You looked up from your empty plate to his face, which had been thoroughly cleaned of the blood from earlier.

You didn't respond verbally. You gave a small nod and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling from your face to the table.

After a moment he looked back up to you.

“I need to know you won't… you won't tell anyone. Things are still pretty tense here, these people already see me as someone to watch out for. I don't need them fearing me.”

“Fear could be a good thing.” You don't know why you said it.

He managed a slight smile, clasping his hands together in front of his chin. “Yeah. It can be. But not this type of fear.”

“So what are you? Jack the ripper of the apocalypse?”

Rick cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest, his fingers tapping on his biceps, covered in a thick black sweater.

“Alright. Nevermind.” You sighed. You finished off your wine and scratched your chin absentmindedly, still looking at his face. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Long time.”

You managed to hide your shock, and nodded. “Before the outbreak?”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving the silverware crossed over his empty plate.

He didn't look guilty or ashamed like one logically should be. A bit uncomfortable, uncertain, a hint of worry and dread. You knew he was praying this conversation would go well and he wouldn't have to do anything devastating to secure keeping his position in the group as the fearless, honorable leader.

“Did Lori know?”

Now he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “No.” Of course she wouldn't have, what a stupid question.

“Okay.” It was quiet until you finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room. “Rick, are any of us in danger?”

Your question caused a drastic change in his demeanor. He leaned forward with an expression that was a mix of hurt and assurance, and you already knew the answer.

“No, of course not.” He breathed, his hands tentatively crossing the table. “I would never hurt any of you people. You're my family. All of you. Even those,” he waved a hand over his shoulder, “stuck up pricks Deanna led.”

You wanted to believe him. You had no choice, honestly, you had no other option. You knew Rick was a good leader, even if he made rash and emotional decisions. He always listened to the opinions and advice of others, he always took their says into account. If he hadn't done it this far, there was no reason to believe he'd start doing it now that you knew.

You weren't justifying it by any means. What he did was vile, monstrous, egregious. Nothing would ever change that. It just wasn't the old world anymore, you had bigger problems to worry about, as ironic as it sounded.

“Okay.”

You closed your eyes as he rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. You wished you could just turn your brain off, wipe your memory and forget, and your stomach churned with nausea. Not at the memory or knowledge of his little weekend hobby, but at the realization that it didn't bother you as much as it should've.

“Can I make it up to you?” His breath warmed your ear as his palms slid up and down your biceps.

God, you were sick. You were disgusting.

“Yeah.”

Carl was home, and so were Carol, Michonne and Daryl, so you led him back to your house across the street.

Your house was almost an exact mirror image of his, same porch, same paint, same layout and everything. In fact, your bedroom window was a straight shot across from his.

You shivered, remembering the times you'd play with him through your window, randomly flipping him off or giving him a thumbs down for no reason at all. It was so innocent.

A tingle spread through your core knowing the man who'd make silly gestures and faces at you through his window at night just to see you laugh was the same man who had gutted humans for kicks.

You stood in your room, looking at his black window across the street as his hands worked to free you from your tight dress. He chuckled at the sight of your ass stuffed in the fabric, running his hands down your waist to grab the bottom of your dress and pull up.

“Where'd you get this thing?” He mused, attempting to fix your hair from the battle of pulling it over your head.

“Tara. She found it on a run, said the color suited me.” You snorted.

His arms wrapped around your now bare body, hands cupping the soft flesh of your breasts and kneading.

“Hmm.” His face nuzzled in the back of your hair, inhaling your clean scent and enjoying the way it felt against his skin. You were just his polar opposite, so soft, sweet, where he was hard and rugged. So kind, patient, his pretty feminine contrast.

You were trying so hard to hold it together and not beg him to fuck you the same way he'd fucked you the other night. You craved it.

Ever since he had you that night you craved it. Craved the raw pain and utter helplessness. You craved more.

“Rick.” You whispered, placing your hands over his, their position still tender and gentle over your chest.

“Hmm?” The sudden feeling of his knee between your thighs made you moan. He pressed it up higher, pushing firm against your panties, the soft gray pair that was far too tiny to wear in any other scenario.

He grinned against the back of your neck at the realization, you'd put these on just for him.

“Speak, sweetheart.” He breathed, parting your hair to kiss your neck.

Rick was doing a good job of making it hard to remember what you were planning on saying in the first place. He kissed down your neck, his hands sliding down your torso to rest on your hips to guide you forward towards your bed.

“Got you something.” He muttered into your neck before he pulled back to push you on the bed.

He dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a folded napkin. He glanced up at you, his eyes almost looking hesitant.

You swallowed hard and watched him unfold the napkin, his movements slow, until he knelt on the floor in front of you and showed you his gift.

“Oh.” You couldn't think of what to say. Earrings, small orbs that were a deep red color. On either side of the orb sat two diamonds, much smaller than the rubies.

“You like ‘em?” He urged, looking up at you, eager, desperate for your approval. Like his life depended on you putting them on.

“Of course I do.” You nodded, and took them from the napkin in his open hands.

His lips bloomed into a smile as you put them on. His eyes followed each move you made.

The second you put the last one on he was on you, his lips on yours, a hand on your throat giving a gentle squeeze that sent excitement fluttering in your stomach.

You groaned, tilting your head back to give him better access. Wordlessly begging him to squeeze harder.

He didn't get the hint, only dipping his head down to kiss the bottom of your chin.

“Rick.” You drawled, your head dizzy and light from his touches and kisses.

“Hmm.”

“You know how,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped the skin below your ear, immediately going to kiss the reddening spot in an apology. “The other night you- you were rough?”

He pulled back, his hand relaxing around your throat, his fingers unfolding to simply press against the side of your neck.

There was a look of sympathy, regret maybe. He nodded, his eyes soft and locked on yours. “I shouldn't have, I'm sorry. You're just…” he sighed, the sound coming out with a shudder. “Was it too much?”

“No.” You immediately answered, shaking your head. “I liked it.” Your words had an obvious affect on him. The sympathy was gone, completely replaced with building excitement.

“I want that again.”

He closed his eyes. His fingers twitched against the side of your neck before slowly bending back into a firm grip around your throat.

“Don't, don't hold back this time, please.”

When his eyes opened you got that same shock of fear you felt the first time, but unlike the first time there was no uncertainty.

You whimpered when you felt his hold on your neck loosen. “I can take it.”

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his jaw flexing as he bit down. Putting on a good show, pretending he had to think about it. Pretending he was cautious. He knew what he would look like if he dove right in without hesitation. He'd look like the selfish, self indulgent man he truly was when it came to sex.

He raised his eyes to yours, his lips splitting into a grin. You mirrored his expression, your heart hammering against your chest, grinning as he slid on top of you and onto the bed.

“Tell me to stop an’ I will.” He reminded.

“Not gonna happen.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. His lips found their place back on your neck, and his hips between your thighs.

You groaned the second you felt his dick through his jeans pressed up against you. The sensation was rough, almost painful the way he ground against your thin panties.

The feeling of your nipples being pinched had you squeaking in surprise, your back arching. There'd been no warm up, just an immediate burning pinch.

Then a twist.

“Oh, god!” You groaned deeply, your eyes clenching shut. The pain radiated much further than just your nipples, shooting down your breast tissue, almost all the way over your entire chest.

“Sounds so good.” He muttered, planting his feverish lips against the cheeks of your scrunched up face. “Such pretty noises.”

You put on a brave face, keeping your mouth tightly shut as he tested your limits, switching between pinching and twisting your sore buds.

He was impressed. You whined and groaned, but you never told him to stop. He released them and you sucked in a breath, your back relaxing back into the mattress.

“You have no fuckin’ clue,” Rick spoke, kissing down your chest. “How sexy you are. How sexy that was.”

You wrapped your fingers in his curls as he kissed your sides, clenching his hair in your fists when he opened his mouth and gave a hard bite on your waist right below your ribs.

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your legs instinctively bent at the knees, clenching around his torso under his armpits.

“Too much?” He hummed, releasing you from his teeth. He rubbed a finger along the bite mark and you winced, but shook your head.

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the look on your poor pretty face. “Don't feel like you've got to impress me, sweetheart.”

“No.” You shook your head again, quicker this time. “Not that.”

“Good.” He went back to working you over, planting kisses down to your thighs.

Your body was beginning to relax at the gentle touches of his lips on you. But true to his nature, Rick ripped that feeling away, sending electricity through your heart and heat through your core when he sunk his teeth into the inside of your upper thigh.

Right below your panties he bit, over and over, sometimes just a nip, then a rough, teeth-gritting bite on the other thigh.

You were unbelievably wet. Your hole burned, desperate to have something inside it, anything.

His fingers grabbed your panties and tugged them down, and you got exactly what you'd prayed for.

The middle finger, his longest, slipped into you and pulled out a moan from your lips. He watched your face as he curled it, each curl and drag making you come more and more undone.

He'd be content to finger you for hours. Watching the glint of red on your ears when you'd turn your head, or the glimmer of gold under your collarbone when you'd arch your back. He almost came when he saw your fingers wrap around the golden pendant.

You were having the time of your life, squirming on your bed as he knelt between your knees and made you come.

“Oh, fuck, Rick!” You gasped, bending your knees again, wanting to wrap your legs around something, a waist, a head, but they were empty and you just slammed your knees together when the cord in your belly snapped.

“Shit.” Rick cursed, watching your face as you came. The faces you made, it made his chest tighten and the smallest, faintest, tiniest lump form in his throat. You were too beautiful. Too perfect, covered in his trophies, his trophy. All his work in the last year perfectly laid on your naked body.

You moaned behind closed lips, your eyes finally opening as your orgasm died down.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of Rick sitting there, staring at you. His eyes flicked up to yours when he saw them open. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, his nostrils ever so slightly flared.

“Rick?” You breathed his name, blinking away the fog in your eyes.

The image of him spreading your knees with his hands, those beautiful big hands, and crawling up your body set your core on fire again. You felt more wetness leaking out of you as he pushed his hips back between yours, forcing a soft moan from your throat.

He fumbled with his belt, leaving it through the loops, knowing you liked the clinking sound it made when he fucked you.

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the first flash of his dick. It looked much darker in the dim lighting of your room and the sight of his thick pubes made your stomach flip again. It was so masculine, so primal, it drove you insane.

“C'mere.” Rick huffed before kissing you again, tearing your gaze away from his dick.

You hummed into his lips, wrapping your fingers back in his cold hair. You'd succeed in making his slicked back hair messy, and thick curls fell down his forehead and tickled yours.

He smelt so good, his shampoo and his cologne. His breath as well, which led you to believe he'd brushed his teeth when he used your bathroom. With your toothbrush.

Even though he was sliding the tip of his dick around your slippery pussy, the thought of him using your toothbrush made you blush.

“Mmm, hah-” He grunted as he pushed into you, spewing out a string of curses as your walls squeezed him the way he'd squeezed your neck.

You felt a bit of pride at his reaction, and bit back a smile when he pressed his forehead against your shoulder to steady himself.

The feeling of his heavy cock sitting unmoving inside you finally sets your mind into a blank state. You breathed through your lips, slow and deep, trying to control your racing heart. The anticipation was killing you.

“Did you mean it?” He spoke, the sound of his low voice startling you.

When you didn't immediately answer he rolled his hips, and you moaned.

“When you said you can take it?” He continued, his hands moving from their place on your hips up your sides.

“Yes.” You answered with an eager nod.

He breathed out, and grinned, looking down at you with a sleazy and cocky expression. “Should've fucked you a long time ago.”

Before you could agree he pulled out an inch, and slowly pushed back in. You whimpered and tilted your hips upwards, already becoming greedy and impatient.

He teased you like that for a while, barely pulling out, slowly pushing back in, and it soon had you a whiny mess.

“Harder.” You whined, your fingers curling repeatedly around a lock of his hair.

“Yeah?” He hummed with a smile, pulling back out a little further, but still pushing back in just as slow. He pulled back out and caught you off guard by slamming back into you, making you see stars and birds.

“You like that? Huh?” He drawled, pulling back out even further, fucking his dick into you with another brutal thrust. "This what you want?"

You didn't respond with words, only nodding and moaning.

The quick and rough snatch of your chin in his fingers had you sobering up real quick. He forced you to look at him, his pupils blown, his open lips in a breathy smile. “Asked you a question.”

“Yes. I love it. I love it Rick.” You babbled, nodding faster. “Please don't stop.”

He dug his thumbnail into your chin, holding your face in place as he thrusted into you. His index finger slipped between your lips and forced your mouth open. Before you could react he was spitting on your tongue, and using his finger to slide down the back of it.

You gagged, a short and easy gag that wasn't uncomfortable. You could feel his dick twitch inside you at the sight and sound of you gagging on his finger.

He fucked you normally for a minute, his pace rough and deep, but still not fast enough for your liking.

“Sit up.” He grunted. You don't know why he even told you to because he was already moving you for him, grabbing you by your hips and moving until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor and you in his lap.

The new angle had his dick much deeper. If he was only a few millimeters longer it would've been unbearable, but the pain was sharp and you loved it.

“So pretty. Pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing the flesh of your hips as he rolled his hips up against you.

The image of him still fully dressed and you completely naked on his lap brought you closer to orgasm. As much as you loved it he was getting hot, and he had to take his jacket off and throw it behind you.

The white T-shirt that was a little too small was just as hot.

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt so you wouldn't fall backwards and moved on him, lazily raising your hips in a way that complimented his own movements.

Each time you moved back down he'd move up, forcing himself as deep as possible, deep bolts of pleasure shooting through your core each time you sank back down.

Oh, finally, finally.

He picked up the pace.

He gripped your hips and started moving you on his own, bouncing you up and down on his length.

“Oh, god.” You blurted, tightening your grip on the front of his shirt. His rough mound of pubes dragged against your clit each time he tugged you down against him, and you were close.

“Gonna -”

He quickly cut you off. “Gonna cum for me?” He breathed, and one hand left your hip. He dropped you down on his dick and started using the strength in his thighs and core to fuck up into you.

You didn't have time to wonder where his hands went before his left one was in your hair, and his right was around your throat.

He squeezed, much harder than before. Your face immediately felt tight and hot, and you had to fully open your mouth to gasp down air. Thankfully he was only cutting off blood flow, and you could still breathe.

Not that it mattered much, because he quickly took your breath away with a slap to your face.

You came hard and with a sharp cry, your thighs squeezing his waist as your hips jerked in his lap.

“That's right.” Rick hissed, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked.

You didn't think it was impossible to reach a second high in the same orgasm, but you did. Your head spun as your body trembled against him. You couldn't process much of what happened, your mind was too fuzzy, your body buzzing to the point of shivering, twitching, and he slapped you again.

You cried out, your eyes snapping open to find his face.

He looked so beautiful. Face red in the dim lighting, that sexy stubble, his eyes dark with dilation. He looked just as ruined as you, but he was holding it together far better.

“S’it okay?” He slurred, his movements slowing as he took a moment to rub your red cheek.

You never in your entire fucking life thought you'd enjoy being slapped on the face. And certainly not by a man. But you didn't just enjoy it, you loved it, you loved the feeling of Rick hurting you and getting turned on by it. You loved his wide hand making your cheek burn.

“Stings a little.” You admitted, your voice raw from your vocal orgasm. “But, I liked it.”

“It stings?” He grinned lazily, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “Was being gentle.”

You groaned, jerking your hips forward and earning a low grunt from Rick.

“Told you not to be gentle.”

“You're right.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and firm. He pulled back, but not before catching your bottom lip in his teeth and pulling you back with him.

He rolled you over on your stomach and pushed back into you, taking a moment to kiss your shoulders and neck before getting back to screwing your brains out.

You pushed your ass into him, eager to feel him as deep as you had when you were in his lap. It worked, the tip of his dick slipped past the curve of your walls and rubbed against the soft spot inside you.

You should've pissed before sex, but it was too late for that now. You'd have to wait. Besides, the feeling was a guilty pleasure, something you'd feel embarrassed to admit, feeling him fuck into you when you needed to pee made each thrust feel ten times more intense.

He wrapped your hair around his fist again, his movements extremely deliberate and precise, the same precision as braiding your hair.

Rick used the grip on your hair to yank your head to the side. You let out a little yelp, and his other hand slid under you, finding your throat again.

“How's it feel?” he lowered himself down to your ear. He held your head in place with your hair, his grip tightening and pulling every so often, bringing sharp tingles down your scalp and neck.

“Having my hand around your throat.” He breathed. He kissed around the back of your neck, the tips of your shoulders, his hips slamming down against your upturned ass.

“Feels so good.” You rasped, pushing yourself back into him to prove your point. You shoved your pillow to the side so your nose wasn't covered anymore, enjoying the feeling of air on the side of your hot face.

“Is that right?” His teeth dug into the skin above your shoulder blades. "Love these hands?"

You couldn't answer. He'd tightened his grip around your throat and it wasn't just blood cut off from your brain anymore.

“You know what I've done with these hands?” He groaned after you clenched down around him at his words. The feeling you got and the reaction you gave to his words was morally reprehensible. It was fucking disgusting.

“Know how many?”

You should've felt ashamed that you came after that. But you didn't. Not at that moment, at least. Your walls squeezed around him and you tried to moan, but it was strangled out of you.

It felt like seeing God, or something holy and ethereal. Your vision was flashes of white and black, flickering like strobe lights, your head felt like it was about to explode with pressure. Your eyes burned, but your pussy felt amazing.

All you could do was grip onto the sheets beside your head and enjoy it, and pray you didn't pass out and miss the best post-orgasm glow of your life.

Rick let out this strangled groan behind your head, his brutal bulldozing of your spasming cunt growing sloppy. He squeezed your throat harder as he came into you, fucking each drop back up inside you as he fell down from his high. He drew out every single wave of pleasure, even to the point of it becoming uncomfortable for him, his dick burning and tingling with overstimulation.

His hand left your throat, and your head throbbed as the blood and oxygen rushed back up into it. You groaned, soft and pained, pressing your forehead into the mattress in an attempt to minimize the pain.

You couldn't really focus on it, thankfully, because the feeling of his dick dragging down and out of your trembling walls was too jarring.

“Fuck.” You grunted, your waist moving to the side to get his dick away from where he had it sitting against your pussy.

If you thought he was sweet after the first time, then he’s a bonafide angel this time.

He turned you over and sat you up, brushing your damp hair away from your sweaty face.

“Hey.” His palms smoothed down the sides of your head, fixing your wild hair. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You managed a very weak and crooked grin.

He smiled in relief, and swiped his tongue under your nose, wiping away the small drop of blood that peeked out.

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom he slipped your favorite night dress over your head, not bothering with underwear.

The post orgasm clarity was trying its damndest to make you feel like an awful piece of shit. Knowing what Rick had done to people who didn't deserve it. It was something you could never be okay with, but his lips kissing over every bite and bruise he'd given you did a good job taking your mind off it.

“Beautiful.” He whispered against the bite marks on your neck and chest, planting another kiss on the next mark. “Look at you.”

You knew you probably looked like you'd just crawled out of a car wreck. Your hair was still messy even though he'd tried to fix it, and your neck was a whole new problem. Bruises from his teeth and hands. Blood blisters from where he'd bitten down way too hard in some spots. Even though no vessels had burst in your eyes they were still red, and that wouldn't go away overnight. There were more turtlenecks in your future.

It was like art to Rick. You looked like art. He kissed your rings. His hands holding yours felt like they belonged to a completely different person, so gentle and light, as if you'd suddenly turned into glass and the slightest pressure would break you.

He kissed your throat, the bottom of your chin, and your swollen lips. There was the faintest twinge of purple on your bottom lip, a line fitting the exact measurement of his top left incisor.

“First time I've ever been fucked like that.”

Rick chuckled, raising his head from your lips to look down at your blissed out face.

“First time I've fucked like that.” He kissed your cheek before finally laying down beside you.

It surprised you, even though it shouldn't have. You were the first person he'd fucked since Lori, and she seemed like the type to blanch over simple restraints like fuzzy handcuffs, no disrespect intended.

“Is that what you think about?” You whispered, feeling your already burning cheeks get hotter. “When you're… Solo…”

He let out a gruff chuckle. “Yeah.” He laid out his arm for you to move into him, and you did. You pressed against his side and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his deep sweat and the remnants of his cologne.

“Is that all?” You asked, trying to sound confident. “Or, was there more?”

“More I wanted to try?” He humored you. You knew he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but the urge to know more was gnawing at you. When you nodded, he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, which was now black from the lights being turned off.

“Yeah. There's more.” He finally answered.

You forced yourself to stop asking questions. You nodded against his chest and pressed yourself tighter against his side, nuzzling your head in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“Can talk about it later, if you want.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @adribarbie @my1fx @jinx-nanami

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes #twd fanfic #twd x reader #twd x you #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes smut #Rick Grimes x reader smut #rick grimes x female reader #twd x reader smut #dark Rick Grimes #Rick Grimes evil #6060requests #6060asks #Spotify

524 notes · View notes

ateez-himari · 1 month ago

Text

250401; WARM MORNING

[NEW MESSAGES FROMM MINGI]

[AM 8:13] my angel ran away seeing the camera, she felt a little sleepy after setting an entire corporation on fire 🎀 please admire our matching calvin klein

[AM 8:13] on her wrist it's a vibrating couple bracelet used to get her attention or warn her whenever I enter the room so she doesn't get scared. getting startled can become overwhelming to the point of isolating herself so I try to avoid it

[AM 8:13] I accidentally tapped it against the counter this morning and it woke her up, don't worry I apologized a lot with pancakes, kisses and warm coffee

[AM 8:14] Hima hasn't been sleeping well the past few days, her hearing aid started glitching lately so another one is being made but for the time being she can't hear properly and being in noisy environments is very painful

[AM 8:14] that's why she was looking at the sign language interpreter often yesterday, almost every question the reporters asked were incomprehensible to her

[AM 8:15] we're not at the dorms, this is our new condo. we unfortunately can't stay there all the time but we'll use it during times where we have no schedules

[AM 8:15] ㅎㅎ it's a very informal announcement but yes technically we moved in together, and though it's not permanent yet we do have a place of our own now

[AM 8:17] sorry tiny the tour will have to wait, I'm really worried about my angel so I'm trying to keep the environment quiet. at this point whispering can be painful

[AM 8:18] not necessarily in the sense of physical pain, but she has trouble locating the sound, understanding speech, and volume is also distorted so it's confusing

[AM 8:19] the staff was very gentle with her during the prank so it reassured me, in situations like these when sound needs to be anticipated she gets very anxious

[AM 8:19] the other dorms are also somewhat noisy so I think that's why her personal bodyguard insisted they move her in with Yunho and Yeosang

[AM 8:20] I don't really know if she's sleeping right now, she came to sit on my lap in the couch a few minutes ago but since her head is in the crook of my neck I can't see her, I can only feel her breathing on my skin

[AM 8:20] it's very calm so I think she might be asleep or at the very least resting well, I might join her very soon, she's so warm

[AM 8:21] engaged? ㅎㅎ where did you guys get that? maybe we are, maybe we aren't...all that I can say is that we're not planning on getting married soon

[AM 8:21] I wouldn't say that definitely means we're not engaged, I would have no problem staying as fiancés until enlistment, maybe even after

[AM 8:21] I'll leave you with this thought Tiny, she's stirring in my arms ㅎㅎ I think it's time for us to go make breakfast, please don't worry I'll take care of her

#ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez 9th member #ateez extra member #ateez female member #kpop oc #HimaFromm♡#HimaSocial♡

117 notes · View notes

sunrisecaminus · 2 months ago

Note

Hello, it's me again. Could I have hmmmm. ..... acree x reader, please? (sfw or nsfw! )

Hope you have a great day or night :D 🌻✨️

I don't understand why I don't like Arcee as much as the others, but I need to get into her character more. She is such a cool character in everyway.

Arcee Headcanons SFW/NSFW

Summary - SFW and NSFW of Arcee with her human conjunx <3 (NSFW under the "Keep Reading")

Warning - NSFW, Masochism

SFW

~ Knowing that Arcee is not a touchy person, nor is she the type to be romantic towards most people. People question how the hell you got to her spark.

~ That lady is ready to sacrifice herself for you any time, so please don't go out in the battle field.

~ She would take you out on dates at parks or somewhere in Jasper City at night. After the war started, any military bot would understand that being able to relax and find a place that could be quiet was a rare occurrence that needs to be appreciated.

~ Her love language is spending quality time and Words of affirmation, so she really likes to talk to you whenever she can.

~ Touching is one of the many things that can get her nervous, so it takes some time for her to get use to when you guys hug or cuddle with each other.

~ Arcee loves to watch you work and pick you up from your job. She loved everything you did, watching you write something or be super hyper fixated on something would interest her just from how your body reacts to things.

~ Having a human for a conjunx is very interesting in her eyes, because now she can learn your culture and day to day life just by being with you. She tries her best to like the things you were interested in.

~ Even if she doesn't get it, she would still try to pick up on things you like so if you wanted to talk to someone about it, she can keep a conversation going with you on the topic.

~ If she felt angry about something, Arcee would come to you first about it. You are someone that would make her calm down just by your presence alone, so its either throwing someone and yelling, or come to you and vent about her stresses.

~ Holy crap she likes when you comfort her. Every hug you give is like being hugged by primus, because even if you were a weak little organic, she still feels safe and loved.

~ "I could never have someone greater than you, because there is nothing that can be above perfect."

NSFW

~ So, about her not use to touch. She is one of the more sensitive bots in the secret base. She loved all your soft touches around her face or thighs.

~ She may be sensitive, but it is impossible for this bot to be a bottom. Pleasing you is everything Arcee has wanted to do ever since you guys kissed.

~ Arcee is a loner type, which means she will try to make you scream and embarrass you if you guys were doing it at the base.

~ Is she a kinky type? Not really, though she wouldn't mind doing things with you if you asked.

~ She is more into using her fingers to mess you up, never did you think a person could be as skilled as she is with her servos.

~ She would never do it in public, but anywhere that is like a closet, a birth room, or some place with a door that can be locked, she has no trouble mutilated you.

~ Speaking of which, Arcee would be gentle with you for the start. You would have to tell her to be more rough with you for her to do so.

~ She will never confirm this, but spanking is something she won't reject.

~ Also, she isn't the one getting spanked, with permission she would give you bruises from spanking, biting, or even tossing.

~ Aftercare is one of the things she wants to be better at. She would gently wrap you up in lovely blankets, giving you kisses everywhere around your body. Arcee would give you a nice massage and watch as you doze off.

~ "Sweet dream, y/n…I won't leave your side."

#maccadam #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x human #valveplug #tfp arcee #arcee #arcee x reader #arcee x human

70 notes · View notes

andreawritesit · 1 year ago

Text

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Aizen x Wife!Reader

Warnings: none really.

----------------------------------------

Prologue: Here

Chapter 1

Time had passed. Hinamori had recovered almost fully and the Soul Society was starting to regain the peace that had been disturbed by the treacherous captains. Head Captain Yamamoto had finally issued a statement regarding the betrayal and the ex-captains. The three squads left without their captains were being monitored by their lieutenants for the time being. After trying really hard to ignore the memories, you had finally taken up on Ukitake’s offer and moved to another room. Aizen’s face haunted you day and night. Not the one you were used to, the one with glasses resting on his nose and a kind smile on his face, no. The face that had taken over your dreams was the one he unveiled while leaving the Soul Society; the one that no longer had strands of hair decorating it, the one that had discarded the kindness from itself. With the vast lifespan shinigami had, you wondered if any amount of time would ever heal the scars he had left on your soul. Whatever short amount of time you had felt peaceful was once again destroyed by Aizen’s schemes. Orihime Inuoe had been on her way back to the World of Living when she disappeared halfway. Every possibility was taken into account and an emergency meeting had been scheduled with the Captains and lieutenants present in the World of Living. Upon hearing that Orihime had apparently healed Ichigo’s injuries, Yamamoto had decided that she had defected on her own and declared her a traitor. That hadn’t stopped the orange-haired man from heading to Hueco Mundo by himself. All that had led to this:

You were currently with Kisuke Urahara, the banished ex-captain of squad 12. You were helping him with transporting the real Karakura town to Soul Society as word had spread that Aizen would be attacking the town shortly. You had nearly lost your mind by this point. After all, you’d be seeing him again. You were sitting on the roof of a house, thinking over how your reunion with your traitor of a husband would go. Would he even acknowledge your presence? He hadn’t hesitated to stab his loyal lieutenant. What if he had also never cared for you, even once? What if he decided to kill you too? Would you be able to strike him back?

“Ahem.” You turned around at the sound of the very obviously fake cough. Ukitake stood behind you with a warm smile gracing his face. Maybe the cough wasn’t so fake…

“Captain Ukitake, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there.” He laughed and sat beside you.

“Of course you didn’t. You were lost in your thoughts.” His voice was gentle.

“Yes. I was thinking about…”

“About Aizen?” You sighed and held your head in your hands. It was so obvious how rattled you were with the situation. Ukitake didn’t say anything but wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a light pat. The white-haired captain had been by your side throughout these turbulent times. His calm presence had been a silent shore in the loud sea of your emotions. Even now, when there was an inevitable war looming over your heads, he had found time to sit down and reassure you, knowing that the upcoming confrontation would be the hardest on you.

“What if I won’t be able to stand against him? All this time, I’ve been telling myself that I’m strong enough to keep my emotions in check and stand for what’s right. But what if I’m not? What if when I see him, I’ll fall back into his arms? What then Captain?”

“I understand why you feel that way. We have known Sosu-Aizen for a long time. His betrayal came as a shock to all of us. But you shared a deeper bond with him. You have known him in the most intimate ways. I say I understand but the truth is that I will never be able to feel what you do. To have someone so beloved abandon and betray me… I’m not sure I would’ve been able to go on as you have. You’re stronger than you believe you are. And even if you do fall weak to your emotions, there’s nothing wrong with that. He is your husband; you have loved him more than anyone. It won’t be unseemly if you want to run to him in a moment of emotional vulnerability. Just don’t let him use your love as a weapon.”

You didn’t say anything in response. Every word he said was true and yet there was still doubt lingering in your mind. Not because you thought Sosuke might sway you to his side, but because if you did show emotional attachment to him still, you might lose everything else. Yamamoto had been very strict in his words when he had said that anyone found to have any sort of contact with the traitors would be counted as one and dealt with as such. You were torn between your feelings and your duties. And yet all you could do was wait. Wait until he showed up there.

Ukitake sensed your despair and hugged you sideways. You wanted to hide away in his embrace but he let go of you quickly. Getting up, he offered you his hand.

“Come on now, get up. Time to meet up with others.” You took his hand and stood up. He was right. It was time to get up.

-------- at Urahara’s shop ---------

The meeting had gone by quite quickly. They all had their orders. You were sitting next to Urahara who was busy tinkering around with something. At first, you focused on the teacup in your hand. But soon curiosity got the best of you and you glanced his way. You almost wanted to facepalm when you saw what he was doing. Kisuke Urahara, in this time of war, was fixing his fan. You put the cup down and tapped his shoulder. He turned around quickly and gave you his signature stupid smirk.

“Oh, is the beautiful miss interested in my doings?” you couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s words.

“No sir, not quite. I’m only wondering how your poor fan got broken like that.”

His smile turned upside down and he let out a dramatic sigh. “How kind of you to ask. This is the doing of Yoruichi sama. She’s so careless around things. She has broken my delicate fan four times already.”

“How impolite of her! Breaking a man’s fan like that!”

“Exactly! And when I request her not to be so reckless with my things, she just hits me in response. She has no regard for me or my things.”

His words bring out laughter from you, a sound you hadn’t heard in a while. Kisuke looked at you with a gentle smile and went back to fixing his fan. After a few moments, you finally stopped laughing and stood up.

“Hey Kisuke?”

He turned to look at you and you nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You know for what. I’ll be with the Captains and lieutenants now.”

He tipped his hat at you and you left the room. After looking around for a bit, you finally found the others assembled on the roofs of some houses. You went to them and stood next to Ukitake who welcomed you with a smile. Shunsui was sitting on a roof, looking as bored as ever. Upon your arrival, he stood up and walked to where you and Ukitake were.

“Well well, if it isn’t the one who stole my best friend!” he commented as he nudged you with his shoulder. You smirked back at him and hung your arm around Ukitake’s shoulder.

“It isn’t my fault if I’m better company than you, isn’t that right Captain Ukitake?” The Squad 13 captain just shook his head at you both.

Your little banter was suddenly cut off by the abrupt presence of dense spiritual pressure. And soon enough, a Garganta opened right above where you were standing. Everybody rose up into the sky and readied themselves to unsheathe their zanpakutos. You stood between Ukitake and Shunsui, hand on your own zanpakuto. You were trying your best to calm your nerves and then you felt it. He was here. Surely enough, three people walked out of the opening. Your eyes went straight to him. Aizen. He was standing between Ichimaru Gin and Kaname Tosen. His eyes almost immediately found you and you both were locked in each other’s gaze. He looked so different yet so familiar. His hair was slicked back, with only a few strands falling across his face. His glasses were gone and he looked taller than before, if it was even possible. While observing him, you felt someone grab your wrist. You saw Ukitake from the corner of your eyes as he squeezed your hand to reassure you.

This wasn’t missed by Aizen’s keen eyes as he saw Ukitake’s hand grab yours. An unexpected emotion flashed in his mind and he had to look away. Had you finally moved on from him? With the Squad 13 captain? He scoffed at his own assumptions and summoned Gin to him.

“Anytime now.”

Gin understood his captain at once. After all, they had come to this wretched town for only two things, the Oken and his captain’s wife. But before they could even move an inch, Yamamoto used his Ryujinjakka to trap them inside the burning fire.

You watched in awe as the Head Captain conjured a fiery prison for the traitors. As the fire encircled them, the last thing you saw sent chills down your spine. Aizen had smiled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list @fabulouslyflamboyant5 (let me know if anyone else wants to be added) ---------------------------------------------------- Next part: here

#at first i wanted it to take place when he was still in hueco mundo but then i thougth “fuck it” and changed it to this #i'm not sure if that would've been better but oh well #i can alwasy write that as a separate fic #but for now #here it is #aizen sosuke #aizen #sosuke aizen #aizen x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach fanfic #andreawritesit

189 notes · View notes

sentientgolfball · 7 months ago

Text

Ghostober Day 7

I need everyone to know the concept of siren Swiss hit me like a truck. Also @divine-misfortune can I have my socks back now

Pairing: Rulti

WC: 2482

Tags: Quintosis, cnc, outside sex, the tiniest touch of voyeurism.

By all accounts, Swiss’ quintessence was no match for a full fledged quint ghoul’s. It may have been one of his strongest elements besides fire, but it could not come anywhere close. Still, that does not mean he does not know how to use it. He would tell anyone who asked that his lack of power made him that much better. He actually had to learn this element instead of snapping his fingers and getting what he wanted.

It also means he is full of surprises. Unpredictable. Volatile. Nobody knows how many tricks he has up his sleeve. Nobody can be prepared for it. He loves it more than anything.

Tonight he is going to show off a new trick he finally perfected. He knows just who to call to help him with the debut. He is positive no one will appreciate it as much as Rain.

He sits outside at the center of the hedge garden. Light from the moon illuminates the purple and white flowers surrounding him, hiding him from view. She’s not quite full yet, but there’s enough for him to see. He stares up at the sky for a moment before laughing to himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again the normal black and white of a multi ghoul’s is gone, replaced by lavender and yellow. Quintessence and air.

He feels the quint spark to life under his skin as he focuses it towards his throat, “Showtime.”

He begins to sing a soft melody. It is something sweet from the Pits. Something calming. Something he heard when his travels lead him to the oceans. He lets quintessence bleed into every note. He laces the song with intention before calling his air element. Nothing too serious, just a cool gentle breeze to carry his voice to the window that overlooks the hedge garden. The window that is cracked open. He will have to apologize to Mountain later, but right now he needs his little fishy more than the earth ghoul does.

He keeps singing until he hears the leaves rustling at the entrance of the garden. He grins, pouring so much quint into the next note that it makes him a little dizzy. He does not care though. Not when his prize is so close. He cannot wait to see the look on Rain’s face when he realizes he has been beaten by his own game.

Right as Swiss reaches the high note of the song, Rain makes it to the center of the garden. He is breathing hard and his eyes are frantic. He steps towards Swiss on shaky limbs, reaching out to him like he is the only thing in the world. Swiss stands from his spot, walking over to him while he continues to sing. He circles him just to watch him spin, trying to keep Swiss in view. When he has gotten a full few of his sweaty, disheveled form, Swiss cups his cheek to make him look up at him. The little whine Rain lets out at the contact goes straight to his cock. The swirls of purple in his dark blue eyes go straight to his ego.

“Hi Rainy baby.” He stops singing, stops the flow of quintessence. He keeps it just below the surface though.

He watches in satisfaction as he blinks, eyes starting to focus. Confusion does not even begin to describe the look on his face when he realizes Swiss is standing in front of him.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head, “Swiss? What are you…I was just in Mountain’s room.”

“Sorry baby but I had to borrow you. I’m sure the big guy won’t mind.”

Rain takes a step back and Swiss lets him. No point in holding him close, if he tries to run he will not get very far. Not if Swiss can help it. Instead Swiss lets him look around. Let’s him try to gather himself. He wants to see if he is smart enough to put the pieces together before Swiss takes away his ability to think.

“Why are we outside? How am I outside?” Rain questions with an edge of panic.

Swiss does not blame him, he has been victim to Aether too many times to know what it feels like to blink and be somewhere with no memory of how you got there. But he is no Aether. He cannot have Rain too freaked out. He will not be able to bring him down if he is.

“Relax,” he lets a thread of quint bleed into the word, “You’re okay baby.”

Rain shakes his head a little as the words sink into his brain, “M not.”

“Yeah you are.” He steps closer.

Despite himself, Rain steps closer as well. He is beyond confused and Swiss is the only thing that makes sense in the moment. If anyone or anything is going to help him, it is Swiss.

“Swiss seriously what’s—“

He stops. He sniffs the air around the multi ghoul. Ozone and frost. The walk down the stairs and out the door still may be missing from his mind, but scent fills in the gaps. He backs away from Swiss with a glare.

Swiss clicks his tongue, “What’s wrong rainstorm?”

“What did you do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He tries to play innocent, but he cannot help the fang filled grin that splits his face. He takes a step towards him.

Rain steps back, “Tell me what you did or I’ll leave you here to choke on your own blood.”

“What? Don’t recognize your own trick?”

Rain shudders at the fizzy feeling that shoots down his spine when Swiss speaks.

“Took me a while to get it right but I knew I had to show you once I got it.”

Rain does not believe it. He cannot believe it. How could Swiss have managed to do this? Even Aether and Phantom need something physical to sink their claws into. Physical touch to let their quint seep into a body to overtake the brain. Even the handful of trigger words they have for each member of the pack had to have been created with something physical. So how did Swiss manage to slip him quintessence without laying a finger on him? He was intrigued, but he would not give Swiss the satisfaction of knowing that.

“This is…the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen Swiss.” Rain slaps his hand over his mouth the moment the words leave it.

That is not what he said, or at least not what he had the intention of saying. He looks at Swiss before slowly uncovering his mouth.

“Oh please show me more.”

This time he hears it. It is his voice alright, but Swiss’ echoes like they have been layered on top of each other.

“Well if you insist,” Swiss grins at him, “kneel.”

The word buzzes in his brain and before he knows it his knees are hitting the ground. He can feel the familiar tingle of magick in his ears and around his throat. He knows what happens every single time Swiss discovers a new trick. This is not the first time he has been caught in his web, and it certainly will not be the last. While he normally loves a bit of quint to turn his brain off and make him cum harder than he ever could alone, this time he would rather put up a fight. Swiss does not get to make a mockery of his song and get away with it.

“Aw come on don’t give me that look,” Swiss pouts, tilting Rain’s chin up to look at him, “I know you want this. You always do.”

He wants to get up and wipe that look off of Swiss’ face. But he really wants his body to stop reacting. He cannot tell if it is the quint laced words making his cock twitch or if it is just himself. Still, Swiss does not deserve to have this effect on him after stealing his voice. He grits his teeth and tries to get the message across.

“Fuck…me.” His tongue feels foreign in his mouth. He does not sound like himself.

“Oh getting straight to it I see. I like the enthusiasm.” Swiss laughs and shoves him down so that his face is in the grass.

He drops down onto his knees and pulls Rain’s hips up so that his ass is in the air. He kneads each cheek, squeezing a handful through his sweatpants. He makes sure his fingertips brush against his hole with each little movement. Rain curses the way the slightest bit of stimulation goes straight between his legs. It does not help that there is a healthy dose of quintessence in his veins. It always makes him unbearably sensitive.

“Someone’s excited.” Swiss hums, pulling the waistband of his sweats and boxers down to pool around his thighs. Rain gasps when he feels him brush his thumb over his hole and slick drips down his balls. Stupid fucking Swiss. Stupid fucking quintessence.

Despite everything in his head telling him to make it hard for Swiss, he cannot help the way his hips shift back for more. He never was good at keeping up appearances when someone finally gets their hands on him.

“Oh don’t you worry rainstorm, I’ll take good care of you.“ Swiss circles his hole before slowly pushing his thumb inside.

“Swiss please more. I need more.” His voice rings out against his will.

“Greedy little thing. But I could never deny my little fishy.” Swiss pulls out only to shove two of his fingers back inside.

Rain gasps at the sudden intrusion, tail lifting to expose more of himself. He is finding it harder and harder to want to tear Swiss to shreds for the mimicry of his song. How can he be blamed when skilled fingers pet against his prostate. He can get Swiss back another time, but right now he sees no harm in letting him play. If it means he gets filled then he can show him what a real siren song can do later.

All too quickly, Swiss pulls away. Rain whines at the loss of contact, but he is not entirely sure if he made that noise consciously.

Swiss tsks, “We both know a couple of fingers aren’t enough to satisfy you tadpole.”

He slides his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. He gives it a few quick strokes, spreading Rain’s slick and coaxing himself to full hardness. He presses the tip against Rain’s hole just to feel it flutter against him.

“Relax,” Swiss sings.

All at once Rain can feel his muscles loosen. If not for the hold Swiss has on his hips, he probably would have fallen over. He pushes into him easily, no burning stretch that usually accompanies such little prep.

“That’s right baby, just relax and take it.”

He has no choice to. He cannot move even if he wants to. Though with Swiss’ cock inside him, moving is the last thing on his mind. Every little roll of his hips pulls a moan from him, but not by choice. He can feel the quintessence rippling through their bodies like a circuit.

“Keep singing tadpole,” Swiss snaps his hips harder, “Let everyone hear how pretty you sound.”

The magick in his veins makes sure his voice rings loud through the night air. He could not shut his mouth even if he tried. He hopes Mountain is still asleep. He cannot begin to imagine what it might look like if he glanced out his window. He does not need anyone catching him moaning like a whore because of Swiss.

“Swiss please oh,” he pants.

“What is it baby? What do you need?” Swiss grinds against his ass.

Rain grits his teeth, trying to keep his words inside. But it is no use, “Please I’m so close.”

Before Rain can even comprehend what he said, his body is flooded with pleasure. It makes him dizzy. His gut feels like it is burning and his cock is so hard it hurts. He is sure a few quick strokes would have him spilling into the grass.

“Already? It’s only been a minute. Must’ve needed it bad, huh? Swiss lilts.

Rain wants to curse him. He wants to throw back in his face and mock him for getting so worked up over a little bit of power. Power he did not even earn. Power he stole from Rain. But once the quint is in his veins he is helpless to it. All he can do is close his eyes and focus on the way Swiss fucks into him deeper and deeper. The way his cock hangs heavy between his thighs. The way his own gasps and moans sound. He always was a vain one.

Swiss shifts his hips, changing the angle and Rain keens. Swiss grunts and slams into him faster. Wet obscene sounds accompany the nonstop cries from Rain. A spark of quintessence ripples over Swiss’ body through his. The feeling nearly makes his eyes cross.

“I’m oh Swiss I can’t fuck.” His whole body shakes as he cums untouched.

Not even a second later he feels Swiss spill inside of him. He grinds into him through his orgasm, fucking his spend as deep as he can until overstimulation sets in. The moment he slips out of him, he can feel the fuzzy feeling of magick leave his body. Still, he collapses forward onto the ground, breathing heavily. He rolls over onto his back only to see Swiss grinning down at him, chest heaving.

“Such a fucking slut for it.” Swiss sneers.

“I’m going to kill you.” Rain lifts his head to glare at him.

“You wouldn’t do that. You like me too much.”

Rain will never give him the satisfaction of knowing, “You sure that’s enough to stop me?”

“Don’t know,” Swiss shrugs, “But you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna stay right here until someone finds you covered in your own mess.”

All at once the tingling sensation returns again. Rain cannot move. He is stuck resting on his elbows with his legs spread open, hole on display as it drips with Swiss’ cum. He cannot even open his mouth to curse at him. All he can do is move his eyes.

“I’ll come back in the morning. See if you’re still in one piece,” Swiss looks up, “Though I think he is gonna make that difficult.”

Rain follows his gaze until. Oh fuck. His eyes lock with Mountain’s. He cannot see his expression from this distance but the green glow tells him one thing. Mountain is pissed.

Swiss just laughs and begins to walk away, “Have fun rainstorm.” Rain is definitely going to kill. That is, if Mountain does not kill him first.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fic #golfball writes #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #rulti #rain x swiss #ghostober 2024

61 notes · View notes

silverynight · 12 days ago

Text

The trapeze artist

Tanjirou works in a circus as a trapeze artist; they pay him good money and with that he's been able to feed his siblings since both his parents died.

Nezuko wanted to go out and get a job as well, but after leaving the other ones in their home alone, and coming back to a disaster in the kitchen and the living room, she decided to stay home and keep and eye on them all the time.

Luckily, the circus is not like others, and the owner prefers to stay in the big city all the time; they don't have to go to other parts of the country so Tanjirou gets to see his siblings every single day after a long day at work.

The are people who work for the circus just to make the costumes for each presentation; Tanjirou's is a very tight and colorful leotard that, even though he considers it a bit revealing, it's actually very comfortable for the things he needs to do on the trapeze.

All the circus has gained popularity in the past months, and since his boss assured Tanjirou he was one of the reasons (although he doesn't quite believe it) now he pays him a bit more.

Now people come from different parts of the country just to see the show; Tanjirou has to perform a couple of times, but he doesn't mind, he likes what he does.

One day, they tell him that nine people have paid extra money just to see him after the show, and since his boss is willing to share part of that money with him, Tanjirou gladly agrees to meet them.

He can tell they all have trained as warriors of some sort; the way they walk and stand is different from other people he has met.

They introduce themselves immediately; some of them are very energetic like Rengoku, Uzui and Kanroji, others look a bit more shy like Tomioka, Iguro and Tokito. Shinazugawa looks intimidating at first, but Tanjirou believes he truly doesn't know how to act around people; Kocho is kind, but cautious at the same time, and Himejima is gentle and calm.

Tanjirou likes them immediately; they tell him a couple of times how much they love his performance and that they'll come back as many times as they can just to see him.

Himejima asks him to describe him all the jumps and moves he does on the trapeze, even though Kocho and the others do that when Tanjirou is performing. But he doesn't mind explaining him everything, he even lets him touch his costume so he can get an idea of what he's wearing.

They come back often and see him after every performance; they start bringing him all kinds of gifts and stay for a while to chat with him.

Eventually, Tanjirou starts considering them his friends and invites them to his house. They meet all his siblings, and even though the little ones don't trust them right away, they're impressed by their outfits and katanas.

Tanjirou helps Nezuko make dinner for everyone, and they stay for a while, talking about their training and how different it is from Tanjirou's.

After they leave, Nezuko sighs and pulls Tanjirou aside while their siblings help them wash the dishes.

"What is it?"

"They're in love with you."

"What?" Tanjirou blinks, completely lost. "What are you talking about?"

"Those nine people who came earlier. They are in love with you."

It's difficult for Tanjirou to believe something like that. There must be a mistake. His sister is certainly confused.

"They like my performances, and they have become good friends of mine, but I don't think they have feelings for me."

"They do," she insists. "I could tell by the way they were looking at you or touching you. But, even if you don't believe me, I'm still not going to make it easy for them. They have to get my approval first."

Tanjirou nods, even though he thinks Nezuko is mistaken, because he knows that once she makes a decision, there's nothing he can do to change her mind.

His friends keep watching his performances and paying him visits to his house; the little ones have gotten used to them and have their favorites; Rengoku and Kanroji are really good with children.

They also bring gifts for the whole family, and even though Nezuko takes the kimonos they bring her, she still keeps an eye on them, especially when they're around Tanjirou.

One day, he finds them already in his house, helping Nezuko take care of the little ones. When they see Tanjirou, they immediately rush towards him and drop on one knee in front of him.

"Your sister has finally given us her approval to court you," Himejima says, prompting Tanjirou to blush to the tip of his ears.

"It's okay if you want us to be your friends only," Kocho adds, a bit sad as she says it.

"A-All of you want to court me?"

"Yes!" Rengoku replies, smiling hopefully from ear to ear.

"But you can choose one of us if that's what you want," Tomioka adds.

"You can stop working if you want to," says Shinazugawa after a while, he's not that good with kind words, but Tanjirou knows he has a good heart. "We can give you all the things you need."

Tanjirou does like his job, so he won't be quitting anytime soon, but he appreciates their offer.

"Would you give us a chance?" Tokito asks, slightly worried.

"Of course!" He beams, feeling his heart beating inside his chest happily already. "All of you can court me!"

Uzui is the first one to give him a kiss, Iguro glares at him for it, but Tanjirou leans to give him one on his forehead to calm him down, Kanroji is blushing bright red even before she asks for one too.

He ends up giving all of them kisses, and going out with them to different parts of the city when he has a day off, sometimes they ask him to wear the outfits he uses for his performances when they're alone with him in the house; they seem to love those costumes so much.

Tanjirou is sure he made the right choice; he can see a future with all of them already.

***

Patreon

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro kamado #kyojuro rengoku #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #obanai iguro #tengen uzui #sanemi shinazugawa #muichiro tokito #gyomei himejima #kyotan #giyutan #giyuu tomioka

22 notes · View notes

dearfae · 9 months ago

Text

୨🌸୧ - dating headcanons!

the seven : heroes of olympus

girlfriend version.

4.8.24

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

percy jackson :

lots and lots of kisses

hand holding

loves your cooking/baking (especially blue waffles *wink wink*)

every time you go on a date it’s water related - the beach, aquarium, underwater restaurant etc.*

*sometimes you go to the movies or amusement parks too tho

constant compliments

lets you choose what he wears sometimes

cute nicknames

very protective and loyal (ofc)

teaches you how to fight (if you don’t already know)

swimming competitions but he goes really easy on you

pegasus racing

braids flowers into your hair

sarcastic and funny jokes to cheer you up

would literally die for you

his mom and step-dad paul LOVE YOU

takes you shopping

buys all your favourite foods when you’re on your period

needs comfort after his nightmares

annabeth chase :

teaches you a lot

hours long talks about each other’s interests

reading and museum dates !!

forehead, nose, cheek kisses

wakes up really early so you’re always awake before everyone else too

spends lots of her time thinking of ways she can make you smile

would do anything for you

picnics :)

takes great joy in annoying you by correcting your grammar or spelling

will make you do a hundred pushups if you insult any author ever

will also make you quote shakespeare

sneaks into your room at night by picking locks instead of just knocking (chalice of the gods reference)

hesitant to let you meet her parents at first

but when you do she’s really happy because you get along with them really well

you always help her win capture the flag (she protects you 99.9% of the time)

death glares/will fight anyone whose mean to you

you never have to google anything because she’s right by your side

needs constant reminders that you’ll never leave or she needs to take a break

hates surprises

jason grace :

literally the sweetest

is only relaxed/vulnerable with you

learnt how to break a few rules *wink wink again*

always cleaning his glasses

the person who dares to be mean to you better count their days

surprisingly smart

deep conversations

doesn’t really know what to do when it comes to dates or anything romantic

forgets things sometimes

keeps a little notebook in which he writes everything he loves about you

makes your birthday cake from scratch

physical touch for reassurance

teaching you about roman history is his love language

pretends to hate the nicknames you give him but secretly loves them

keeps a picture of you with him at all times

quiet around others

never raises his voice at you

sometimes you act like his mother figure (is that what it’s called?)

winks or smiles at you when others aren’t looking

leo valdez :

shit music taste (I’M SORRY)

treats you like the queen that you are

holds doors open for you

points at you and says really loudly to everyone else, “HAVE YOU SEEN MY BEAUTIFUL AMAZING WONDERFUL GIRLFRIEND??”

inside jokes

you gave him a bracelet and now he never takes it off

gives you flowers!

sleeps in

cuddles, kisses and his arms are practically glued to your waist

teaches you spanish (especially the swear words)

he COOKS

there’s never anything broken because he fixes them immediately

always makes you laugh

does skincare with you<3

shows you off to anyone that’ll listen (even if they won’t)

the kindest, most golden retriever boy ever

he’s still wary about opening up to his trauma

his severe adhd makes it hard for him to calm down so you always sing to him or play with his hair

excessive use of the words bro and dude

frank zhang :

picks you up bridal style whenever you get tired (he likes to impress you by showing off his strength)

gentle and caring

if you’re out eating together and you buy different things, he’ll let you taste both of them so you can have the one you like the most

gets flustered really easily

cheesy pick up lines (that you secretly love)

LOVES TO EAT

uses his title of praetor to take the mick out of you (as a joke)

cautious about trying new things

very punctual with time and chores

whenever there’s a praetor meeting he lets you sit next to him

you make sure that there isn’t any dairy in the food you make him

he was so happy when you learnt canadian for him

you let him teach you about his family tree

if you’re feeling sad he’ll shapeshift into a puppy or something to cheer you up

he can actually be pretty snarky when he wants to

you’re literally the safest girl on earth when he’s around

the poor boy gets really shy when you flirt with him

really good at making different accents

his writing is SO hard to read😭

piper mclean :

likes to make you blush

let’s you taste the lipstick she uses by kissing her

swears

candlelit dates, stargazing, mall shopping

buys you perfume and clothes

definitely asks for you to rate her outfits

she thinks you’re prettier than anyone else in the world, so much so that’s she’d straight up call her mother ugly

really excited for you to meet her dad

she’s your BIGGEST supporter!

you have to stop her from slitting peoples’ throats when they say anything remotely harsh to you

plays with your hair and brushes/styles it for you (she lets you do the same for her)

SKINCARE NIGHTS<3

binge watches 2000s movies - bratz, mean girls, the devil wears prada etc

you call her lots of playful names

rips down any posters of her father she sees, makes it her personal mission to burn every single one of them (you laugh every time)

loves flipping people off

she’s actually really sweet and caring

loves when you hold her hand

paints your nails :3

hazel levesque :

loves exploring abandoned underground tunnels

she made a bracelet for you out of the gems she pulled from the ground

every time you swear she chases you with a bar of soap

you help her with her curly hair

she’s so innocent (unless she’s angry, hungry or tired; then she goes ballistic)

you tease her when she gets flustered

she takes you for midnight rides on arion

she always smells like fresh rain

calls you ‘miss your surname’ whenever she scolds you

she sleeps with extra pillows

if you pass a graveyard she’ll wave to the ghosts

graceful and kind

loves nature

really good with kids

bakes you cookies on national girlfriend day

if there’s one thing she hates, it’s when people misquote the bible

sometimes she’d have major deja vu moments from her past life if you go somewhere she did the first time she was alive

gets really excited when it’s date night!

she can be so incredibly fierce and powerful but if a butterfly or something dies she’ll literally start bawling her eyes out

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

that’s all i can think of lol

let me know if i missed anything or you disagree with what i’ve put! i’m open to any criticism :)

hope you enjoyed! i might do another one with different characters!

©dearfae

#dating headcanons #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson #headcanons #the seven #piper mclean #leo valdez #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #jason grace

62 notes · View notes

salty-croissants · 1 year ago

Text

Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon x pregnant reader : talking to their child

Thank you @elyn-27 for the request !

This is a really cute concept , always down to write something wholesome for my favorite boys ://)

Hope it turned out okay !

Details : use of female reader ( preferred given the premise ) ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed

Bullfrog 💚

Oh yeah … he definitely talks with the baby a lot , mostly when the both of you are someplace safe , just cuddling after a long day .

Hearing Bullfrog whisper in the coziness of your room , his head gently placed against your belly , never fails to make you smile .

< Oui , mon petit , that really happened today !

If your mother didn’t patch me up , it would’ve all been very troublesome …

She truly is une merveille ~ >

< Aww , honey … ! ~ >

You can see his eyes light up every time he hears the baby move even just a little , and it’s honestly the most precious thing :

this frog is just so excited about your child , but he tries really hard to contain himself to avoid overwhelming you too much …

Instead , Bullfrog continues on caressing your belly with his strong , gentle hands , a smile of pure delight on his face while he does it .

Bullfrog does indeed get worried about what kind of life your child will have to live , given he is an assassin who often has to leave for the mission assigned by the Warden , and the thought of not being able to be there for them because of what he does crushes him …

However , as soon as you give him that soft , understanding look and pat on the bed to suggest him to lie down with you , he just feels a wave of peace and most of all love wash over his troubled mind :

resting his head on your belly is something that works like magic for your lover .

< Mm , mercy mon amour … >

< No need to thank me , sweetie : we are going to be okay , I just know it . >

Rayman 🧡

Okay , did I mention that Bullfrog is one who talks to the baby a lot ?

Because Rayman beats him fair and square on that account :

if he could he would never leave your side , busy to explain your child just how perfect in every way their mother is .

It’s very cute ;//C//;

< Oh yes indeed , y/n is very wonderful !

She is the light of my life , my beautiful sweetheart , and - >

< Ray honey , you’re gonna be late for work ~ >

< Oh - I almost forgot —

Uh , I’ll be back soon , okay ? Both of you , wait for me !

Love you ! >

< Love you too !

… heh … your Dad is surely something isn’t he ? ~ >

Rayman definitely kisses your belly pretty much every time you’re together , enjoying to hear your adorable flustered giggles …

< Ah , there is that lovely smile … god , I wish we could stay like this forever , I’m in heaven whenever I hear your voice ~ >

< H-Heyy come on , now you’re just trying to make me blush ! ~ >

< Hehe , can’t say that’s not true darling ~ >

Rayman also loves to place his head on the crook of your neck , occasionally giving it a little kiss while his hands gently hold your belly …

It’s a very intimate little moment that really helps him calm down , especially after he’s had a long day at work .

You really make this man feel like home , and he will never be able to thank you enough .

< I love you … mm … I love you so much , y/n … I can’t wait for our little angel to arrive … ~ >

Ramon 🖤

Ramon’s nights are often tormented by nightmares and understandable worries for you and your child’s futures , so most of the time he ends up resting his head on your belly , the comfort of your warmth being the only thing that can put him at ease …

< Bad dream … ? >

< … yeah .

Is it okay if I … ? >

< Of course Ram , you can stay there as long as you want .

We are both here for you … don’t forget that , okay … ? >

< I could never … >

And it’s mostly at night , while he is trying his best to fall asleep , that you’re able to hear Ramon talk to your child with a very quiet voice to avoid waking you up :

it’s something that he does fairly often , it’s just very soothing for him .

< … it’s not gonna be easy when you’ll get here , I won’t lie to you … but I promise that no matter what happens I’m going to keep you safe … I will keep all of us safe .

I owe this to you … I owe this to my beautiful y/n … >

< Mmm … are you talking about me back there , Ram ? ~ >

< Oh -

I … heh , thought you couldn’t hear me …

I still one hundred percent mean what I said , though ~ >

Whenever he has to leave your place ( something that almost never occurs since he wants to be there for you as much as possible ) , Ramon makes sure to say goodbye to both of you before heading out , it’s something that he never forgets .

< Be careful out there , my love … mm … we will be waiting for you . >

< I’ll be careful darling , don’t worry … take care of yourself while I’m gone , okay ?

And the same goes for you . >

After one last kiss on your belly he steps out in the dangers of the street , with only one thing in mind :

going back home to you and your child , no matter what .

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain lazerhawk rayman #captain laserhawk bullfrog #rayman #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #ramon clh #cl rayman #female reader

154 notes · View notes

pa-pa-patato · 3 months ago

Text

Dishes don’t get sick at least not very often, Which is why they turn into such dramatic little babies when they are sick.

Case and point: Cuphead, He got sick with what is basically a dish version of a common cold and he wouldn’t stop complaining about it.

He calmed down since them but Holly felt it was a calm before the storm- “Holly help!” ….. did she just jinx herself?

As she came into the room Bendy called out from she was greeted with a sight of her boyfriend using her other boyfriend as a teddy bear, Bendy looked like he was trying to wiggle out his hold but she didn’t wanna help.

She has told him a million times that he doesn’t have to be so gentle with Cup just cause he’s sick and that Cup was being dramatic but nope! Bendy had to force himself to not use his super strength which is why he’s now trapped.

Cuphead looked at her as she entered the room both of them ignoring Bendy’s pleas for release and help, he let one his hands lose holding Bendy tightly with the other as he made graby hands at Holly to join them.

Well… not like she had anything to do today. She once again ignored Bendy as she slipped in the bed with them sighing softly as Cups arm wrapped itself around her.

Bendy continued to pout as he couldn’t get free but Cup seemed very pleased with the whole situation, Bendy didn’t have anything important to do so she doesn’t understand why he’s pouting, fortunately for them he looks absolutely adorable while pouting which is probably the reason why Bendy got pulled in by force and not called over like her.

Sneaky Cup, even while sick.

They spent few minutes talking, well she talked as Cup listened while Bendy kept trying to escape.

Holly noticed something while they all laid there, While the tight grip on Bendy made sense cause every so often the man will would try to wiggle out but even tho Holly showed no signs of wanting to leave his hold on her would tightened every so slightly whenever she would shift to get comfortable.

He wanted them close by, why? She had no idea but she knew he wanted them near.

She also noticed he was getting angrier and angrier by Bendy trying to escape this situation.

“Cussin-let go already!”bendy snapped still trying to wiggle out of Cups hold without hurting him, “no. Mine” He answered without hesitation.

“Wha-pha-let me go!” Bendy whined blush creeping on his cheeks “no.” Cupheads voice came out low and dead making us both flinch.

“….fine whatever cussing bipolar-” Cup didn’t really care for Bendy’s mumbled insults holding both of them closer while smiling,

“We’re both gonna get sick you know that right?” Will he quit complaining already? Cuphead didn’t answer him he just kept smiling rubbing his face against Bendy’s head making him purr, “damn it! Quit doing that!” That didn’t stop his first few hundred times he asked and it didn’t stop him now.

Even tho Bendy was annoyed he still chosen to stay so Holly didn’t feel the need to help him in anyway,

For now they’ll just stay here and cuddle.

Prompt used:

#inky mystery #babqftim #the inky mystery #babitim #quest bendy #quest cuphead #holly may #runebendystraw #inky fiction #I wore this last night but forgot to post it :’)

20 notes · View notes

ask-the-koopa-family · 6 months ago

Text

AGAIN A STORY (it happened in the past...) about Mario and Bowser's relationship...

Art/OC/story are mine dont copy/repost!

#bowser

#supermariobros

#supermariobrosoc

#mario

In the grand throne room, Bowser stands near his throne, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as he wrestles with thoughts from his past. Cherry enters, her face glowing with excitement, clutching a golden envelope in her hands. She walks up to him, gently nudging him from his reverie.

Cherry:

Bowser, look at what we've received! An invitation to a royal ball at Peach's castle!

Bowser: (raising an eyebrow, his suspicion obvious)

A ball? At Peach's castle? Why would she invite me to one of her events? And you know very well who will be there...

Cherry: (reassuring, placing a gentle hand on his arm)

I know you don’t want to see Mario, especially after what happened with... Betty. But maybe this is an opportunity to show everyone that we can move forward, that we’re not defined by our past.

Bowser: (clenching his fists, his voice filled with a rough edge of pain)

Move forward? You know what he did! How can I forget that, Cherry? Every time I see him, I relive that moment. It's not something you easily forget.

Cherry: (taking his hand, her gaze tender but steady)

I know... I’m sorry. I’m not asking you to forget, but maybe it’s time to show that we’re stronger than our grudges. Peach invited us; she might also want to ease the tensions. And we can’t live in the past forever... Betty wouldn’t want that. I’m not asking you to forgive, but to show the kingdom that you are no longer the tyrant king. That you are capable of nobility and greatness. Do it for us, do it for Betty... to show that nothing can bring us down, not even Mario.

Bowser: (looking down at their intertwined hands, his voice softening)

Do you really think that’s possible? That this ball could change anything?

Cherry: (smiling gently, her confidence unwavering)

I believe it can, yes. And even if it doesn’t, at least we would have tried. We’re together, and as long as we are, anything is possible.

Bowser: (sighing heavily, then meeting her gaze)

Alright. For you, Cherry. But I warn you, if he causes any trouble, I won’t hold back. Don’t expect me to be friendly with that plumber.

Cherry: (kissing him lightly on the cheek)

Thank you, Bowser. I know everything will be fine.

Later, at the Royal Ball at Peach's Castle

The castle is alive with color and light, flowers draping from every corner. Cherry, glowing in an elegant dress, enters the ballroom arm in arm with Bowser. The guests whisper in surprise, some even gasping as they look upon them. Peach approaches them with a genuine, welcoming smile.

Peach: (extending her hands warmly)

Cherry, Bowser, I’m so glad you could come. It means a lot to me.

Cherry: (smiling brightly)

Thank you for the invitation, Peach. The castle looks beautiful tonight.

Bowser: (nodding, his voice gruff but sincere)

Yes. Thank you very much, Peach.

Peach: (gesturing with a slight smile)

I’m delighted that you’re able to enjoy the evening. Cherry, I have something to show you in the greenhouse; you’re going to love it. Bowser, you’re welcome to join us if you wish.

Bowser: (giving a slight shake of his head)

No, I’ll... explore a bit on my own. Go ahead, have fun.

Cherry:

Alright, dear, see you later!

Cherry and Peach disappear into the greenhouse, leaving Bowser behind. He slowly makes his way to a balcony, seeking a moment of peace from the chatter and music.

The night air is crisp, the moon casting a gentle glow over the kingdom. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, as if letting the silence calm his thoughts.

A hesitant footstep breaks the quiet. Bowser’s eyes open slowly, and he doesn’t turn as Mario approaches.

Mario:

Good evening, Bowser...

Bowser: (without turning around, gripping the balcony rail, his voice cold)

Mario. What do you want?

Mario: (keeping a respectful distance, his tone sincere)

I just wanted... to talk. I know it’s not easy for you to be here. I didn’t expect you to come.

Bowser: (scoffing, his sarcasm biting)

Yes, being surrounded by people who’ve always seen me as an enemy, it’s a perfect evening for me.

Mario: (with a quiet sigh)

I’m not here to provoke you, Bowser. I know how you feel... about Betty. I know you blame me, and you have every reason to. What happened... was tragic. But I didn’t want it to happen.

Bowser: (turning to face him, his eyes blazing with anger)

Tragic? It was your fault, Mario! You... killed her!

Mario: (bowing his head, his voice calm but heavy with regret)

I know. And I live with that every day. But I’m here tonight to try and ease this hatred between us. It was an accident. I didn’t want her... to die. I know you may not believe me, but it’s weighed on my conscience too. I... I’m sorry.

Bowser: (staring at him, his expression conflicted)

And you think a simple ball will fix all of this? That I’ll just forget? Do you think simple apologies will erase what you did?

Mario: (shaking his head, his gaze steady and resolute)

No, I don’t expect you to forget. I know nothing can ever bring Betty back. But we need to find a way to coexist. For Cherry, for Peach, for our kingdoms. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Bowser. I’m just asking for a truce... so we can all move forward. We don’t have to be friends, Bowser, but we can at least try not to be enemies.

Bowser: (after a tense silence, finally releasing a heavy sigh)

I don’t know, Mario. It’s not as simple as you think. But for Cherry, for my family... I’ll try. But don’t disappoint me, and don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you.

Mario: (offering a slight smile, visibly relieved)

I understand. Thank you, Bowser. I don’t expect anything more.

The two stand together under the moonlight, neither quite willing to break the silence. The ball continues inside, but here, on this quiet balcony, a fragile truce is born, with a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they can coexist.

#bowser #princess cherry #drawing #tablet #story #mario #princess peach #past #super mario bros

49 notes · View notes

kiss-me-muchoo · 1 year ago

Text

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨 || 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ in the middle of a ripple in the force, the girl Ben Solo accidentally cursed turns out to be the princess that Kylo Ren desperately hunts.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ age gap (I’m 20, so reader too) Kylo was 29 in TFA as far as I know, fem reader, angst and I think that’s it.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ my Adam Driver era is beyond over, it happened in 2020 and were done. But I somehow ended up coming back to Kylo. I wrote this with bad blood remix (TV’s), so yeah… silly little me.

______________________________________________________________

All of Ben Solo’s past was long forgotten. Until he saw two girls in his dreams. A very young dirty girl in the desert. And a lookalike princess.

The dessert girl made him feel a pull to the light. The princess made him want to be a better general for the First Order, to give in everything to the dark side.

And so the time passed. Kylo Ren became stronger, and he was able to see the princess’ shadow. He had never seen her face, or so he thought. This young woman was delicate as a feather, she was gentle, all felt through a blurred vision.

He wished he could talk to her. She made him close his eyes and peacefully rest for the night. So he started trying to find her. Kylo Ren visited every galaxy to see if any of the princesses remaining alive was the girl of his dreams. But he failed continuously, and also his knights.

He just wanted to know her. He wanted to see why she made him feel safe.

…

You let the older’s woman fingers braid your hair. She finishes by scattering some little flowers across your braided hair and smiles at your reflection in the mirror.

“And done.” She says smiling.

“I highly appreciate it, Leia” You reciprocate the smile and stand up.

“I’ll let you finish getting ready, but don’t take too long. You know I hate having late people for briefings” you nod.

“I’m always on time, just let me…” you start wandering around your room, until Leia calls you, and you see her placing your mother’s crown in your head.

“Now you’re ready.”

I’m not a princess anymore.

“Wear it for her. For your loved ones… as a sign of respect” Leia says, maybe you were thinking too loud. You didn’t like being called princess, but most of the resistance did. General Organa could see herself reflected in you. A young princess that lost too.

“I miss them a great deal” you admit. It had been four years. The First Order destroyed your home planet. And you were the only survivor as General Leia Organa saved you.

“I miss her too. But that’s why you have to keep wearing the crown. As long as you remember them, they live” Your eyes water, Leia squeezed your hand in assurance.

“The force will always allow you to keep them close”

“Thank you. For everything…” she nods, smiling again, before leaving you alone.

You touch the crown. Looking at the tiny details. It was simple, undercover and very elegant after all. It was subtle, yet… it made you feel… weird.

The air changes. What felt like a warm sunny day, starts feeling like a cold cloudy dusk. You frown, looking away from the mirror. When you turn, you see a man in black robes, already looking at you, through a mask. The man of your dreams and visions. You stopped breathing, literally.

He was Kylo Ren. The Commander of the First Order. Master of the Knights of Ren. A Jedi killer…

“Who are you?” He asks, modulated and heavy voice that makes you freeze. Allowing yourself to feel scared.

Leia was right. He didn’t know about you. He didn’t remember you.

“Nobody” you answer.

“You’re a princess certainly.”

“I was one…”

“There’s still a crown on your head, Are you force sensitive?” You remain quiet, swearing to be hearing your heartbeats through your head and ears. He sounded calm, but very intimidating. Which made you feel goosebumps.

“No.”

“The force connected us then… Why?” there’s an idea of what was happening in your head. But he wasn’t able to understand it. He just knew you had to be important, if you weren’t doing it by yourself, the force picked you for something big.

“You know who I am.” He speaks again, giving a step closer, making you go backward. He noticed it.

“Everyone knows who you are.” The air feels suffocating. Your room seems to feel smaller, as the man projected inside of it was very big.

“Then you know I will find you.”

“I know.” You try to sound calm, which seems to unsettle him. You pretended very well.

“And you won’t do anything?”

“I’ll wait till that day to think about doing something” he wants to chuckle. But he can’t because he’s anxiously trying to pry more about you. He doesn’t know where you are, how old are you, who you are.

At the same time, both of you were shocked to finally face each other. After months of hearing and watching faded silhouettes of each other. It was rare…

“You should be afraid of me.” He added, walking even closer, being able to smell your perfume. He was now infatuated, totally obsessed with the idea of finding you. You felt it, which angered you. So you took your fear away and stepped further, facing his creepy mask closer.

“I won’t be scared the day you find me, Ren”

And the connection broke.

The sun was back again. The birds could be heard again. You touched your chest, as you felt in panic. You almost ran to the briefing room, praying that time would pass faster so you could have a word with Leia.

About why the force had connected you with his son.

…

Poe scratched the back of his head with his free hand. He was caressing his food tray as he approached the dining room and saw you gossiping with Connix, your best friend.

“I’m telling I don’t know. He just-“

Poe touched you and it made you jump scared. Connix let out a little startled yelp and the pilot started laughing.

“What are you talking about that has you all concentrated?” he took a seat in front of you and the girl beside you. Noticing neither of you had finished the food.

“Can you two finish your food? I don’t want any sick friend again” You started eating in silence, under the desperate look of Connix, who was practically begging you to tell Poe.

“This morning the force connected y/n with Kylo Ren” You rolled your eyes at Connix. Poe dropped his fork and looked at you in horror.

“WHAT?”

“Uh… yes, she’s right” you confirm to Poe, who looks beyond shocked.

“But.. Why?”

“I have my theories, but it doesn’t make sense” Your friends nod. And you just want to forget about the whole issue.

“He’s your space soulmate and the force wants to get you two together” You start laughing at Connix’s terrible joke and gently push her. Poe didn’t laugh.

“Connix, don’t joke about it. What if he wants to hurt her? What if he indeed wants to get together with y/n and worsens the war?” He’s right though. You sigh, focusing on your food instead.

“I need to be prepared. We’ll see each other eventually. I just feel it. But today… is all about you, my dear Poe. You and BB-8 must go and get that map. We need it…” everyone nods.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. The First Order has spies everywhere. One bad move, and they’ll be with you” Poe nods, knowing his colonel best friend was very meticulous about missions, especially when her friends were involved.

“I’ll be careful, princess y/n” You frown, and both Connix and Poe start laughing.

“I extremely hope so, Dameron”

The rest of the dinner flows fine. But you fear, about Kylo Ren discovering who you were before time.

…

Missing. That’s the only word in your head, knowing that BB-8 and Poe were missing was getting on your nerves. But Leia assured you to sleep and let her handle it. Uncomfortable, you went to bed against your own will, staring at the ceiling, questioning why it had to be such a long and weird day.

By the time you fell asleep, Poe woke up. Realizing he was at some First Order cruiser, Kylo Ren was looking at him. Poe sighed, knowing that he would likely end up hurt again.

Ren acknowledged him as the best pilot of the Resistance. Great to start.

“You have seen the map”

“And you have seen the girl,” Ren assured.

“What girl?” As soon as the pilot asked, he unveiled everything. Your connection with Ren, what you told him before talking about the mission. He accidentally gave Ren all the answers.

The map was with the droid and the girl was with the Resistance.

“Princess y/n of the fallen kingdom of Karyn and Colonel of the Resistance” Kylo Ren proudly said your name and titles. He smiled under the mask.

How he could have forgotten about Karyn and how they refused to be involved in the war. He never realized the daughters of the kings survived.

“NO!… DON’T YOU DARE TO HURT HER!” Poe yelled, trying to break the cuffs hurting him.

“I won’t, pilot. You can rest knowing that I won't hurt her” and with that, he left the cell. Only causing great pain for Poe, feeling guilty.

When Ren walked away, and when he turned to some hallway, he spotted you. He froze, there you were looking at the giant window, looking at the stars. You must be at the secret base of the resistance, but to him, you were with him. You turned, encountering him as if Kylo Ren was at the entrance of your balcony. He saw your dark blue dress and silver crown, you saw his hideous mask again.

“What have you done with my friend?” You ask.

“That rebel scum? To your luck, he is in a cell, alive.” You know he’s telling the truth.

“You must have what you need, let him go” For the first time, you noticed your height barely brushed his shoulders, he was massive, making you incapable of feeling some fear.

“I can’t, he’s a prisoner of the First Order.” You roll your eyes.

“LET HIM GO!” You yell, trying to keep calm, or else he will discover one of your little secrets.

“Don’t worry, soon or later you’ll join him. And it will be an honor to have you in my ship, Princess y/n of Karyn” you mentally cursed. He had one clue, he had opened the door to know everything to you. And he knew that you stuttered, being unable to talk. By the look on your face, he knew you were scared. And he liked it.

“Get out of my head.” And somehow, you broke the connection.

But under all the fear, you had one doubt. You wanted to know how he looked under that mask after all those years.

…

You needed to hear Poe, so as you fly with the Resistance to Takodana, you call him. You hadn’t seen him since he returned. BB-8 would be happy to see his friend there. It had been rough days. Your connection with Ren hadn’t happened again. But you constantly saw him trying to kill you along his knights in the desert. You brush away the frightening memory, hearing your dear friend calling you.

“Colonel Princess y/n, here is Poe Dameron. Permission to lead the division?” You smile widely.

“Permission granted, Dameron. Now don’t get into more trouble, I need you by my side after this?” He chuckles after some exchange of words, and he starts doing his job. You love how Poe loved to fly. He had to teach you how to fly a ship yet, but for now, you loved when he offered rides.

Your good thoughts soon are over. You turn to Leia, who’s already thinking the same as him.

“He’s here,” you say and she nods.

“Hide yourself as long as you can. But do not hide your ability to fight.” You nod, hiding your weapon in your belt, under your cape.

You join the fight and you can get rid of many stormtroopers. You see BB-8, Chewie, surprisingly Han Solo, and another boy fighting together and you want to run towards them. But a stormtrooper shoots at you. And while you were able to avoid him, others came out of nowhere. He hit your head and you almost fainted. You touched your head, hand covered in blood. Your vision was blurred and you felt how the troopers kicked you and picked you up, towards their ship.

You were too disoriented to do something, to fight. And yet, you felt him. You saw Kylo Ren carrying another woman. And when he looked at you, he left the girl and kneeled in front of you. Inspecting your wounds. You could hear his heavy breathing. But you refused to look at him.

“I said to bring me the princess, not to injure her” You keep looking at the floor, watching as some blood drops fall against the cold floor. His gloved hand caressed your temple and sent you to complete darkness, losing consciousness.

…

When you open your eyes, you are shocked to see Kylo Ren without his mask. You wanted to tear up, but you harshly refused.

“I cleaned your wounds”

“How gentle of you.” You speak, feeling your throat extremely dry.

“You must be something else. I can see anything, you are hiding your memories from me”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you thought you were.” He makes an expression that you take as an extremely brief smile.

“Maybe you’re lying to me. Who are you, princess y/n?” He asks stepping closer. You can see his clean face with moles like you. His brown eyes and dark hair. You turn your head away from him. But he places his gloved hand on your chin, stopping you from squirming away.

“All I know is that Karyn fell years ago. Because it was one of my first missions as commander, I gave permission to attack. I remember seeing how the planet came to ashes” You turn to face him in shock, anger in your face.

“MONSTER!” You cry out in anger at his face. He killed your home, your people, your family, and your legacy.

“Let go of that, it would happen anyway. Karyn was a strong kingdom that wanted to remain isolated from the war” You let yourself cry a little.

“I assume it was Organa who saved you” You look at him with resentment, hate, and horror.

“But why you? You must be able to wield the force. You just don’t know yet. You’re being slower than the scavenger”

“So now I’m a prisoner?” Ren frowns before gently shaking his head.

“No, of course not. You’re my special guest. I'm taking you to Supreme Leader Snoke.” He said, inches away from your face. His proximity was making you even more angered rather than uncomfortable, so you looked at him deeply in his eyes. And you felt something as well as him. But both of you ignored it.

“Sir, your presence is urgently required at the command center” Two stormtroopers appeared at the door of the cell. You remained silent and the man rolled his eyes. He gave you one last look and left with the soldiers.

Maybe the mighty Kylo Ren had underestimated you because you could feel your weapon in your belt. And in less than a minute, you were out of the cell. You start moving away, and suddenly you collide in the chest of someone. Another girl, the scavenger.

“You are princess y/n,” she says excitedly. You knew she was force-sensitive, so she must’ve escaped from her cell too.

“And you must be the scavenger”

“I’m Rey. And need to get going. Han, Chewie and Finn are here. Let’s go!” She takes your hand and starts guiding you.

“Who’s Finn?” You didn't know him.

“Oh, you’ll like him. He has helped a lot” You only nodded.

“Did Ren went to see you?” Rey asks you.

“He did.”

“I can feel your connection with him. It’s weird, like you had met him before” You stop abruptly.

“I met him. He ruined my childhood” Rey is about to ask more, but she is interrupted by Finn and his friends.

“Han Solo, Chewie!” You greeted the man that you constantly saw as a kid, the Wookiee that played with you. For some minutes, you felt secure, even happy.

…

The first thing Kylo Ren saw after killing his father, was your face. You looked shocked, saddened, and enraged. You were with the scavenger and the traitor looking at what he did.

He felt your pain and in his rage, he felt even worse, he was desperate to know why the pain you felt as Han Solo died felt too personal. Like you had met him before.

Finn, Rey and you started running towards the snowy forest. You took advantage to start the Falcon and get out of there, Chewie let you know it was ready, but you heard their screams. Your friends must’ve been intercepted. So you knew it was over, Kylo Ren would know your secret, but you had to save your friends. You never asked to be a hero, but you had to act like one to succeed. You remember Karyn thought light and darkness were both the same. They were perfectly balanced and there was no beliefs on the Jedi or Sith.

You fight for them. Because they weren’t able to do so. You fight to keep being free.

Giving firm steps into the snow, they turn to look at you. Rey smiles briefly and Ren seems confused. But you take your weapon out, and you let your green lightsaber join the red of Ren and the blue of Rey.

Both seem shocked. But it takes a twist when you walk forward, giving the first attack. Kylo was taken aback by the sudden violence, but he concentred about giving a clean fight. He starts attacking back, but it seems to be more difficult for him, as it is two against one. Your ways of executing the lightsaber mixed a lot of techniques, which made it harder for Kylo to predict your next move.

Finn was heavily injured, so you tried to get close to him to help him. But it wasn’t easy.

“You and I. We’re connected, you know it.” Kylo says out of breath. Your saber collides with his, and you put all of strength to push him away.

“I can help you become more powerful” you frown. You don’t need that.

“I don’t care about power. I want to keep my freedom” you let your intrusive thoughts win. You remember what he did to you.

“You almost killed me once. Don’t you remember, Ben Solo?” In his sudden weakness at the mention of that name, Rey comes in and attacks too, you feel him get inside your head and the scavenger slides the saber against his face. You gasp in shock, almost dropping your saber.

“NO!” You scream, thinking he died. But you see him moving. And Rey is shocked to see how you rushed to his side.

You kneel beside him, only to see an awfull wound across his face, he seems to be lost, probably half unconscious. His face is sweaty and you sigh relieved to see he was alive. The moment feels soft, and he sees some memory that strongly appeared in your head. He closes his eyes and feels you.

The connection. You hated him, but you didn’t want him to die.

Kylo Ren sees himself as a seventeen-year-old student in Luke’s temple. When he was still Ben Solo. He was training with his friend Weenie, they didn’t agree sometimes, which led to heavy training sessions. The blonde padawan fought so hard, and Ben reciprocated. Without even noticing it, they moved around the area where the youngest kids were training. He was furious, Weenie said having bad dreams constantly leads to darkness. He was about to hit Weenie with his blue lightsaber when the blonde moved. Ben Solo heard a little girl cry, and when he saw, there was a girl at his feet, her padawan robes covered in blood and sliced open. His saber had burned her back and cut the top of her long hair and she was unconscious.

The little kids ran towards her. All of them yelled, “Y/N WAS HURT!” “BEN SOLO HURT Y/N! “TELL MASTER SKYWALKER!”

She was eight years old. He never knew who she was.

But when Kylo Ren opened his eyes, he saw the young girl. He couldn’t believe you were that girl. He had so many questions.

You caressed his swollen cheek and leaned to whisper in his ear.

“You took everything away from me. My Jedi training, my home, my family, my future.” He gulped, his hand landed on your hip, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. You stopped him.

“Being with the Resistance feels correct. But I don’t believe in the light or darkness anymore”

“I will see you lose this war, Kylo Ren. And you’ll feel what I did over the years” The hand on his cheeks pushed him further into the snow. And when he tried to stand up, you pulled his hair and crushed his skull again.

Rey took you away, running to take Finn and get out as the First Order base was about to disappear in lava.

But you couldn’t ignore the strange feeling in your stomach. You despise him. You were over the scars he left in your back. You try to forget about Karyn, your family. But you were extremely far away from forgiving Kylo Ren for destroying it.

Nonetheless, Kylo Ren didn't want to let you go and you didn't want to leave him alone.

And you knew it wasn't over. It had only started.

________________________

Go and say mean things in the comments, luv you and let me know if anyone wants part two.

#kylo ren x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren

138 notes · View notes

outerspaceismyhappyplace · 1 year ago

Text

Here’s another scene from my Classification AU that I wrote a while ago

“He finally slipped, didn’t he?” Shinobu says, as Tanjiro walks in with an exhausted Zenitsu on his hip.

“Yeah.”

“On purpose?”

Tanjiro sits down, situating Zenitsu on his lap. “No,” he grimaces.

Shinobu’s eyes narrow. “He involuntarily regressed in the middle of a mission?”

“It wasn’t his fault, Shinobu, it was mine,” Tanjiro says. “I should have taken your advice and forced him into littlespace earlier.”

“If he’s to be a Demon Slayer he needs to be able to take care of himself. We try to keep Littles and Caregivers together, but should we need one of you alone, he needs to be able to manage and control his headspace on his own.”

“I…I know,” Tanjiro says, although the thought of Zenitsu or Inosuke being sent on solo missions without him is…anxiety provoking, to say the least. “I’m going to talk with him about that once he comes out of headspace.”

“That probably won’t be for a while,” Shinobu notes. “Being pushed over the edge like that, especially after being in control for so long, will most likely cause him to be in headspace for an unusually long period of time. He’ll also probably be a lot younger than he would be normally.” She raises an eyebrow at Tanjiro. “You think you can handle that? Two Littles and a Flip at the same time, one of which isn’t in control of his headspace at all?”

“Of course I can,” Tanjiro says.

Right on cue, Inosuke comes barreling into the room and then into Tanjiro and Zenitsu with a loud, “GONPACHIRO!” This startles Zenitsu awake, who then starts crying. “‘Ro!” Inosuke exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air excitedly. “‘Ro, I have a little brother!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you do, bud,” Tanjiro says in a hushed voice, bouncing Zenitsu on his knee to try to get him to calm down. “You have a really little brother. I know it’s exciting, but he’s feeling really overwhelmed right now so we need to be extra gentle, okay?”

“‘Kay!” Inosuke agrees. “I can help with the baby!”

Shinobu chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Thank you,” Tanjiro says. Turning back to Inosuke, he smiles affectionately and tells him, “I know you’ll be such a big help tomorrow. But for now, it’s time for bed. It’s been a long day and we could all use some sleep.”

“I’m not tired!” Inosuke cries.

Zenitsu wails louder, and Tanjiro looks back and forth between his two boys a few times. “Oh, Inosuke, I think Zenitsu is scared of your boar mask.”

“But it’s just a mask! ‘S not my real face!”

“I know, but Zenitsu is overwhelmed and confused and very teeny tiny right now, so he might not understand that,” Tanjiro explains patiently.

Inosuke nods and takes it off, kneeling in front of Zenitsu. “See, baby? I’m not a monster, I’m just me!”

Zenitsu stares at him with wide eyes and reaches out to touch his hair, sobs settling down.

Inosuke squeals. “Look, ‘Ro, he likes me!”

“I knew he would,” Tanjiro says, breathing a silent sigh of relief that that’s all it took to get Zenitsu to stop crying. “Okay. Did you get something to eat?”

“Yup!”

“And you’re all cleaned up?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good job, bud.”

“The butterfly girl helped me!”

Literally every girl in the whole mansion, with the exception of Nezuko, could be described as a butterfly girl, but Tanjiro decides not to point that out. “That’s great, Inosuke!” Zenitsu is starting to fuss again, and Tanjiro realizes he must be hungry. “I’m going to go and get Zenitsu something to eat; do you think you can get yourself tucked in?“

“No, I want ‘Ro to!” Inosuke says, hanging off of Tanjiro’s arm.

“Can you at least go and lie down until we’re done? It shouldn’t take long, okay? Then I’ll come and tuck you in.”

“But-“

“Please, Inosuke? I need you to be a big boy for me so I can help Zenitsu.”

Inosuke looks unhappy, but he complies. “Fine,” he huffs.

Tanjiro lifts Zenitsu up and takes him to the kitchen, where a warm bottle of milk is already sitting on the table, with a note attached—

‘Thought this might come in handy. It’s babyspace formula infused with supplements that should help with nightmares and anxiety. - Lady Shinobu’

“Look at that, Zen! Lady Shinobu made you a bottle, wasn’t that so nice of her?” Tanjiro says. Zenitsu simply stares at him and puts his fingers in his mouth. “No, don’t do that, I’ve got something much tastier,” Tanjiro promises, sitting down and coaxing Zenitsu’s fingers out of his mouth. He cradles him in his arms and tips the bottle back.

Zenitsu initially spits the first mouthful out in surprise, but to Tanjiro’s relief, after a tentative second try, he drinks the rest of it down greedily, eyelids getting heavy as he gets drowsy. When he gets to the end of the bottle, he makes tiny humming noises of satisfaction.

“You’re so cute,” Tanjiro coos softly, looking down at him with an adoring smile. “I wish your first drop with me was under better circumstances, little one, but I’m happy I finally get to take care of you.”

#kny agere #demon slayer agere #age regression #fandom agere #agere fanfic #classification au #some assembly required au

60 notes · View notes

bookworm-with-coffee · 2 years ago

Text

Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

__________________________________________

When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed!! Let me know what you all thought! Any and all feedback is welcome!! Part two coming soon!! ❤

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!!

#being human #being human uk #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #mitchell x reader #fanfiction #aidan turner #gif not mine #credit to creator

188 notes · View notes

reallygroovyninja · 1 year ago

Text

I want to preface the story I am about to post is garbage. No, really, it's bad. There are moments in it you can see my brain think oh shit, I need to explain myself.

If you want to read a story I am very proud of, check out The Fallen. It does have a shocking ending, which I am very sure turns people off, but I stayed faithful to the story that inspired it.

Anyway, here is unfinished Word Document 20. It's so bad I had to hide it under a cut. lol

Lexa was seated in a quaint office adorned with countless baby pictures, each snapshot a vignette of new beginnings and cherished memories. The walls, a gentle palette of pastel hues, were lined meticulously with these joyful expressions, casting a soft, hopeful glow throughout the room. The ambiance was both serene and surreal, as if Lexa had stepped into a gallery of future possibilities.

At the desk, a woman named Marlene, who ran the agency, extended a packet of papers toward Lexa. "Based on your criteria and the comprehensive tests you completed, these are the candidates we believe match your needs," Marlene explained, her tone both professional and empathetic. She knew that the choices contained in these documents could change lives. "Once you have a shortlist, let us know. We can then provide you with their photographs. This decision is profound—it should transcend mere physical appearances."

Lexa appreciated the process's discretion and thoroughness. She had longed for a child, a desire unmet in her past relationships, none of which revealed an alpha compelling enough to share her life's journey. Now, she sought a different route—a sperm surrogate, an alpha who would contribute to the life she wished to create and then step away, allowing her the autonomy she desired in raising her child.

They would meet intermittently, their encounters solely intended to achieve conception. It was an arrangement devoid of traditional romantic entanglements, focused instead on the singular goal of motherhood.

Taking the packet, Lexa began to leaf through the pages. Names, occupations, medical histories, personal hobbies, and more—details designed to paint a picture of each potential candidate. Yet, as she skimmed the information, the details seemed to meld into a blur of text. She knew she would need time and quiet to pore over these sheets, to consider who these people were beyond the data.

Marlene watched her with a calm understanding, accustomed to the weight such decisions carried for her clients. "There’s no rush," she reassured Lexa. "Take the packet home, think over your options carefully. We're here to support you every step of the way."

Grateful for the empathy and professionalism, Lexa nodded, clutching the documents a bit tighter as she prepared to leave. The smiling, innocent faces of the babies seemed to bid her farewell and good luck. Stepping out of the office, Lexa felt the gravity of her decision resting on her shoulders—a burden, yes, but also a beacon of the profound joy and love she hoped to welcome into her life.

Later that evening, Lexa settled onto her couch, a glass of red wine in hand, the soft hum of her quiet home enveloping her as she spread the stack of profiles across her coffee table. The light of her living room lamp cast a cozy glow, perfect for the introspective task at hand. She had decided on a methodical approach to review each candidate: she would create two piles—one for definite no's, and another to review again.

Taking a sip of her wine, Lexa began. One by one, she carefully read through each profile, considering the potential of each candidate not just as a genetic contributor, but as someone whose traits might mesh well with her own for the child they would share. Her fingers brushed against the papers, shifting them between the two designated areas on her table.

There was Jacob, whose profile intrigued her right away. His interests in environmental science and community gardening hinted at a thoughtful, perhaps gentle soul. Then there was Bellamy, a police officer whose tone in the self-description came off a bit too brash for her liking; his profile radiated a certain arrogance that Lexa found off-putting. He was promptly placed in the no pile.

As she continued, a few others passed her review—some with potential, others lacking the certain je ne sais quoi she was searching for. Finally, she reached the bottom of the stack, where a profile named Clarke rested. At first glance, something about Clarke's description didn’t quite resonate with her, and she was tempted to add it to the no pile. Yet, something—perhaps a detail she had missed or a gut feeling—nudged at her to reconsider.

With a thoughtful frown, Lexa picked up Clarke’s profile again. This time, she read slower, trying to capture the essence behind the words. Clarke was an artist, deeply involved in local community projects, which spoke to a creative and civic-minded spirit. His brief mention of a love for old cinema and classic books hinted at depth. Lexa waffled, her initial impression clashing with the intrigue now sparked by her second, more careful reading.

Setting Clarke's profile down on the "review again" pile, Lexa decided not to rush her judgment. She finished her wine, her mind actively weaving through the impressions each profile had left. Tonight was just the beginning. She knew the importance of this choice, not just for herself, but for her future child. She’d return to these profiles after a night’s rest, perhaps seeing them anew with fresh eyes and a clearer perspective.

The next morning, Lexa found herself with a phone pressed to her ear, recounting the previous evening's deliberations to her cousin Anya. Anya had always been more like a sister to Lexa, providing both support and candid advice whenever Lexa needed it.

"So, I've got these two piles," Lexa explained, her voice carrying a mix of resolve and uncertainty. "The no pile is pretty straightforward—those profiles just didn't click for me. But the 'review again' pile, that's where it gets tricky. There’s Jacob, who really seems like a gentle soul, and Clarke, who I almost passed on but decided to give another look."

On the other end of the line, Anya listened intently, her occasional hums of agreement punctuating Lexa’s detailed descriptions of the potential alphas. When Lexa finished, there was a brief silence, the kind that hinted at Anya's deep consideration before she spoke.

"Lex, are you sure about all this?" Anya’s voice was gentle, yet probing. "I mean, it sounds like you're really trying to convince yourself here. Aren't you giving up a bit easily on finding the right alpha? You know, the traditional way?"

Lexa sighed, a soft sound of mixed emotions. "I know it seems like I'm rushing into this, but I've thought about it a lot. I just haven't met someone who fits what I'm looking for in a partner... someone I want to share my life with. This way, I can focus on what I really want—a child. I don’t need a romantic relationship to make that happen."

Anya was quiet for a moment, likely weighing her next words. "I get that, I really do. But it’s a big step, Lexa. Just make sure you’re choosing this path because it’s truly what you want, not because you feel it’s your only option."

Lexa nodded to herself, appreciating Anya's concern. "I understand, and I appreciate you looking out for me. I’m not closing the door on finding someone someday, but right now, this feels right. I want to be a mom, Anya. And I feel ready to do this on my own terms."

Anya’s response was warm, supportive. "Then you know I'm behind you one hundred percent. Just promise me you'll think on it a little more, okay? And whatever you decide, I’m here for you."

"Thanks, Anya. That means a lot to me," Lexa replied, feeling a comforting sense of reassurance. She knew Anya only wanted the best for her, and having her support strengthened Lexa's resolve to move forward thoughtfully and confidently.

After ending the call with Anya, Lexa set aside the 'review again' pile of profiles on her dining table, deciding not to revisit them until later that evening. She knew the importance of the decision ahead and recognized the need to approach it with a clear mind and a settled heart.

The conversation with Anya had stirred a mix of emotions and considerations, reinforcing the gravity of her choice. Lexa felt it crucial to give herself space—to let her initial impressions simmer and her intuition align with her logical reasoning. This pause, she believed, would help her return to the profiles with fresh eyes and a more decisive heart.

During the day, Lexa busied herself with her usual activities, allowing her subconscious to process the morning’s conversation and her own feelings about each candidate. She went for a long walk in the park, the rhythmic steps helping to clear her mind. She met with a friend for coffee, enjoying the distraction and the normalcy of casual conversation.

As the day turned into evening, Lexa felt more centered. She prepared a quiet space at home, with minimal distractions, lighting a candle for a touch of calm ambiance. She poured herself a glass of wine, similar to the night before, setting the stage for contemplation and decision-making.

Sitting down, she slowly began to revisit each profile in the 'review again' pile. Lexa’s goal was to narrow her choices to two or three potential alphas—individuals who not only met her criteria on paper but whom she felt could genuinely contribute to the life and the values she hoped to nurture in her future child. With a deep breath, she delved into the profiles once more, ready to make one of the most significant decisions of her life.

As the evening wore on, Lexa methodically revisited each profile, reflecting deeply on the characteristics and values of each potential alpha. Slowly, her list began to narrow until she was left with three names: Jacob, Roan, and Clarke.

Jacob’s profile had an immediate and strong appeal. His dedication to environmental conservation and his gentle demeanor resonated with Lexa's own values. It seemed a natural alignment, one that suggested he would bring the kind of thoughtful and nurturing influence she desired for her child.

Roan presented a different allure. His profile portrayed him as a resilient and ambitious individual, someone who had overcome significant challenges to achieve personal and professional success. There was a strength in Roan's narrative that Lexa admired, a testament to his character that she believed would be a valuable trait to pass on to her offspring.

Yet, despite the compelling cases for both Jacob and Roan, Lexa found her thoughts continually drifting back to Clarke’s profile. There was an intriguing blend of creativity and intellect in his background— an artist with an Ivy League education, deeply involved in community service. His profile hinted at a complex, multifaceted personality; he was someone who valued both expression and academia, who understood the importance of giving back to the community.

Clarke’s interests in the arts and his commitment to societal contribution painted a picture of a man who was not only educated but also empathetic and engaged with the world around him. These were traits Lexa admired and sought for her child’s upbringing.

The more Lexa thought about Clarke, the more she realized how much his qualities appealed to her. He represented a balance of intelligence, creativity, and civic responsibility—elements that she valued deeply and imagined could foster a rich, nurturing environment for a child.

With a thoughtful sigh, Lexa placed Jacob and Clarke’s profiles side by side, with Roan's just slightly below them. It was clear these were her finalists, each bringing something unique and valuable to the table. She knew her decision would not be easy, but she also felt reassured by the strength of her final choices. As she prepared to retire for the night, Lexa felt a quiet confidence that among these men, she would find the right partner for the journey ahead.

On a quiet Sunday morning, with a cup of tea steaming gently beside her laptop, Lexa settled down to compose an email to the agency. The decision to request photos of her three final candidates—Jacob, Roan, and Clarke—felt like the next logical step in her carefully considered process. She knew the agency wouldn't respond until Monday, but drafting the email gave her a sense of progress and control over her choices.

Lexa typed with deliberate care, her words reflecting the gravity of her request. She explained that she had narrowed her selection down to three potential alphas and would now like to see their photographs to aid in her final decision. Lexa stressed that while she understood the importance of not basing her choice solely on physical attraction, she believed that a certain level of physical compatibility was essential for her comfort and confidence in this unique and intimate arrangement.

As she hit send, Lexa felt a wave of anticipation mixed with satisfaction. Each of her chosen candidates brought distinct and strong qualities to the table. Jacob with his gentle nature and environmental passion, Roan with his resilience and proven ambition, and Clarke with his creative spirit and intellectual prowess—each was appealing in a uniquely compelling way. Lexa appreciated the diversity in their profiles, which she believed would allow her to make a balanced choice based on a combination of intellectual, emotional, and physical attributes.

Leaning back in her chair, Lexa allowed herself to feel hopeful about the next steps. She hoped that the upcoming photos would not only confirm the impressions she had formed from their profiles but also ignite a spark of attraction. The thought of conceiving a child necessitated a certain level of physical appeal, and she hoped to find that in at least one of these men, making the process of becoming a mother not just a fulfillment of a desire but also a comfortable and pleasing journey.

With her part done for now, Lexa spent the rest of her day engaged in preparing for the new week, her mind occasionally wandering to her three candidates. The blend of curiosity and excitement for what Monday would bring was palpable, as she envisioned a future where one of these men would help her realize her dream of motherhood.

In her office, Lexa found herself repeatedly glancing at her phone, which lay beside her keyboard—a silent testament to her growing impatience. Each time the screen lit up with a notification, she felt a jolt of anticipation, only to find emails unrelated to her personal inquiry. The response from the agency, it seemed, was taking its sweet time.

Lexa tried to anchor her focus on the reports and spreadsheets that crowded her desktop. Her work, typically a realm where she excelled and found clarity, now felt like a cumbersome distraction. Her thoughts, disobedient and wild, fluttered incessantly towards the potential images of Jacob, Roan, and Clarke.

She knew their basic features—hair color, eye color—but these details painted no vivid picture in her mind. What were their smiles like? How did they carry themselves? Were they tall, broad-shouldered, or had a more slender, athletic build? These unknowns spun around in her head, each a question mark adding to a mosaic of curiosity and expectation.

Her concentration broke again, and she reached for her phone, scrolling through her inbox fruitlessly once more. With a sigh, Lexa set the device down and tried to realign her focus on a particularly complex data analysis. But even as she parsed through numbers and trends, part of her mind wandered, sketching imaginary portraits of the three men based on the scant information she had.

The morning dragged on, each tick of the office clock a reminder of the waiting she had to endure. Lexa found herself tapping a pen against her desk, her gaze drifting towards the window, where the city below seemed indifferent to her internal turmoil. The blend of excitement and nerves was palpable, like the quiet tension that fills the air before a storm breaks.

Finally, acknowledging her distracted state, Lexa decided to take a brief walk around the building, hoping that a change of scenery and a bit of movement would help her regain her concentration. As she strolled through the quieter parts of her workplace, she reminded herself that the decision she was about to make was significant and deserved this level of anticipation and thought. Returning to her desk refreshed, Lexa resolved to put her personal feelings aside and dive back into her work—determined to keep her professional prowess intact, even as her personal life beckoned with unanswered questions.

As the end of the workday approached, Lexa had almost resigned herself to the idea that her eagerly awaited email from the agency wouldn't arrive until Tuesday. She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief, the delay giving her more time to prepare mentally for what those photos might reveal.

She set her phone down one more time, focusing on shutting down her computer and organizing her desk for the evening. Just as she pushed back from her desk, her phone buzzed with the distinct chime of a new email notification. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the sender: the agency.

Quickly, she tapped on the notification, her eyes scanning the email's contents. The agency apologized for the delay, explaining they had taken extra care to ensure the photographs matched her request for confidentiality and respect towards the candidates. Attached to the email were three files, each labeled with the name of one of her potential alphas: Jacob, Roan, Clarke.

Lexa's thumb hovered over the attachments. A part of her wanted to open them immediately, to finally put faces to the names and profiles she had been pondering over for days. Yet, as she sat in the stillness of her office, a wave of hesitation washed over her. Was this the right place to make such a personal, potentially life-altering discovery?

Her office, usually a space of professional decisions and work-focused thoughts, suddenly felt too impersonal, too public for this deeply private moment. She contemplated the weight of what these images represented—not just potential genetic contributors but possible co-creators of her future child.

Deciding she needed the privacy and comfort of her own home to experience this moment, Lexa locked her phone and slipped it into her bag. Once home, she could take her time, process her reactions in her own space, and make thoughtful decisions without the confines of her professional environment.

As she walked out of the building into the warm evening air, Lexa felt a reassuring calm settle over her. Tonight, with a cup of her favorite tea in hand, she would meet, in a way, the men who might help her fulfill her dream of motherhood. It was a meeting that deserved her full presence and undivided attention, best done in the sanctuary of her home.

Lexa's evening unfolded with a mixture of routine and restless anticipation. After a quiet dinner, she methodically washed her dishes, the warm soapy water running over her hands as she scrubbed. This daily chore, usually a mindless task, felt different tonight. Each plate rinsed and set to dry was a moment to stall, a brief reprieve from the decision that awaited her.

As the dishes were put away and her kitchen returned to its usual tidy state, Lexa brewed a cup of calming chamomile tea. The steam curled into the air, carrying with it a scent that usually relaxed her, but tonight it was just another step in delaying the inevitable.

Part of her meticulous post-dinner clean-up was borne from habit, but another part was driven by a palpable apprehension. She was about to make a decision that would significantly shape her future. The man whose image she was about to view might very well be the one to help her fulfill her deep-seated desire to become a mother. This wasn't just any routine interaction; this was about selecting an alpha who would provide the genetic material to conceive her child and then, as per the agreement, step away.

With her cup of tea in hand, Lexa finally settled onto her couch, her usual spot for unwinding after a long day, but nothing about tonight was usual. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the warmth of the tea seep into her palms. Her phone lay next to her, an innocuous presence that now seemed daunting.

Finally, she picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the email app with hesitation. This action, so simple and routine, felt momentous. She opened the email once more, and there they were, the attachments waiting just a click away. Each file bore the name of a potential alpha: Jacob, Roan, and Clarke.

Lexa tapped tentatively on the image file labeled "Jacob," her breath catching slightly in anticipation. The photo that materialized showed a man with boyish good looks, his smile gentle and inviting, eyes sparkling with a warmth that reinforced the impression of kindness his profile had suggested. Jacob's image aligned perfectly with what Lexa had envisioned—a friendly face that could bring comfort and reassurance.

Next, she opened the file for Roan. As his image came into view, Lexa noted his longish hair and the unmistakable intensity in his gaze. His strong jawline and the serious set of his mouth gave him a rugged appearance, one that spoke of resilience and a certain sternness. Roan looked like a man who faced challenges head-on, a stark contrast to Jacob’s softer, more approachable demeanor.

Finally, Lexa clicked on the last image, labeled "Clarke." She expected to see another male alpha, similar to the first two. However, as the image slowly loaded, her expectations were upended. The photo revealed not a man, but a striking woman with deep blue eyes and long blonde hair. Lexa stared, taken aback, as she processed the unexpected sight of a female alpha. Clarke’s presence in the photo was compelling; her gaze was direct and confident, radiating a strong sense of self-assuredness.

Lexa’s initial shock slowly gave way to a mix of emotions. Clarke’s appearance was stunning, and there was an undeniable beauty in her features that Lexa found herself unexpectedly drawn to. This twist in her journey made Lexa pause, her mind racing through the implications. She had not considered the possibility of a female alpha, yet here was Clarke, challenging her preconceptions and expanding the horizon of her choices.

Sitting back on the couch, Lexa took a moment to reflect. Each candidate brought something unique to the table: Jacob’s kindness, Roan’s intensity, and now Clarke’s unexpected presence—a female alpha who exuded strength and allure. Lexa knew this decision required more than a cursory glance at photographs. It was about finding a connection, a match that felt right on multiple levels.

As she continued to gaze at Clarke’s image, Lexa felt a curious pull, a fascination that urged her to reconsider what she thought she had been looking for in an alpha. Clarke’s striking blue eyes seemed to beckon for consideration, asking Lexa to step beyond the familiar and entertain the possibilities that lay in unexpected quarters.

As Lexa continued to sit on her couch, the images of the three alphas lingered on her phone screen, each one offering a different possibility, a different future. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her window. Lexa found herself lost in thought, trying to envision what a child with each of these individuals might look like.

First, there was Jacob, with his warm brown eyes and dark hair, features that gave him an approachable, boy-next-door charm. Lexa imagined a child with similar soft, dark locks, perhaps inheriting Jacob's easy smile and the inherent kindness that seemed to radiate from his expression.

Then there was Roan, with his intense blue eyes and dark, slightly wild hair. His features were sharp, his presence in the photo almost commanding. A child with Roan might inherit those striking blue eyes, Lexa thought, along with a likely strong-willed spirit and perhaps that same sense of resilience that Roan seemed to embody.

Finally, her mind drifted to Clarke. The image of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed alpha with a distinct chin dimple was vivid in her mind. Lexa found herself particularly curious about this feature—a charming little dimple that added so much character to Clarke's smile. Would a child with Clarke inherit that same dimple? Lexa pictured a little one with light hair and those piercing blue eyes, maybe running around with a mischievous grin punctuated by that adorable dimple.

Each mental image brought a smile to Lexa's face but also added layers of complexity to her decision. This wasn't just about choosing a partner for conception; it was about choosing half of the genetic makeup of her future child. Each alpha not only offered different physical traits but also different backgrounds and personalities that would influence their child.

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling both overwhelmed and excited by the possibilities. As she sipped her tea, now lukewarm, she realized that this decision would shape not just her future, but that of her child. She knew that beyond looks, she needed to consider which values and qualities she most hoped to pass on. The process felt daunting, yet the thought of motherhood filled her with a profound sense of purpose. As the evening waned, Lexa knew that these reflections were just the beginning of her journey towards making one of the most significant decisions of her life.

After a period, Lexa felt the need to share her thoughts and get some feedback. She reached for her phone, dialed Anya, and quickly forwarded the email with the images of the alphas she was considering.

"Hey Anya, can you check your email real quick? I sent you something important," Lexa said as soon as her cousin answered the phone.

"Got it, let's see these candidates," Anya replied, her interest piqued. They started with Jacob, whose soft features and kind eyes made a good first impression. Then they moved on to Roan. "He looks exactly like what you’d expect an alpha to look like, doesn’t he?" Anya remarked, clearly impressed by his strong, intense demeanor.

Lexa chuckled, "Of course, an alpha would pick the most alpha-looking of the three."

However, the conversation took a turn when Anya opened Clarke’s image. "Oh, wow, this is a female alpha. That’s unexpected."

Lexa nodded to herself, feeling a mix of emotions. "Yeah, it adds another layer to Clarke. I've always been attracted to female alphas, but I was open to a male alpha, thinking it might be simpler for the whole baby process."

Anya paused, considering Lexa's words. "How do you feel about Clarke being in the mix now? This is a bit of a curveball."

"It is," Lexa agreed. "But honestly, seeing Clarke in there, it kind of stirred something. My ex was a female alpha, too. There’s a familiarity there."

"Sounds like Clarke’s presence is challenging some of your initial thoughts," Anya said thoughtfully. "But Lex, this is about what you want and need right now. If Clarke resonates with you more, maybe there’s more to think about here than just going the straightforward path."

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling the weight and truth in Anya’s words. "I guess you’re right. I need to think about what each option could really mean for me and the future. Clarke being a female alpha isn’t just a detail; it’s significant to how I feel about this whole process."

As they wrapped up their conversation, Lexa felt grateful for Anya’s insight and understanding. Discussing each candidate openly had clarified not just the practical considerations but also the emotional ones. Now, more than ever, Lexa knew her decision would not only be informed by what was expected but also by what felt right for her personally.

With the images of the alphas now in her possession, Lexa faced a self-imposed deadline: by Friday, she needed to make her decision. The choice she was about to make was not just about selecting an alpha but choosing a co-contributor to a life-changing journey. It would set the course for her long-held dream of becoming a mother.

Over the next two days, Lexa immersed herself in deep reflection. She had swiftly eliminated Roan from her list of potential candidates. His intensity, though initially striking, felt somewhat overpowering upon further consideration, and she realized it didn't align with the kind of parental influence she envisioned for her child.

Now, it was down to Jacob and Clarke. Jacob, with his gentle demeanor and environmental passion, seemed like a safe and rational choice. His traits aligned well with Lexa's values, and she could easily envision him as a positive genetic influence on her child. Yet, despite the logical fit Jacob presented, Lexa found her thoughts repeatedly drifting back to Clarke.

Clarke's presence in the selection process had been unexpected and impactful. As a female alpha, she brought a familiar dynamic that resonated deeply with Lexa, reminding her of the past. Lexa had to admit, there was a certain allure and comfort in the idea of choosing a female alpha.

Sitting at her dining room table with both profiles laid out before her, Lexa pondered whether her inclination towards Clarke was primarily influenced by her being a female alpha. Was it the novelty and emotional resonance of Clarke's status that drew her in, or was there something more substantial in Clarke's profile that connected with her own aspirations and dreams?

Lexa spent hours dissecting every detail in their profiles, weighing not just the emotional but also the pragmatic aspects of each choice. She considered not just who they were on paper, but who they might be in her life while conceiving a child. As she mulled over her options, Lexa tried to separate her feelings about their alpha status from what each could potentially offer as a co-contributor to her child’s genetic and cultural heritage.

By Thursday evening, a decision began to crystallize in her mind. Lexa realized that her choice needed to be based on a balance of emotional resonance and practical considerations, a decision that felt right both in her heart and her mind.

Friday morning dawned with a sense of resolution for Lexa. She had made her decision, and though nerves fluttered in her stomach, she was ready to take the next step. Sitting at her dining room table with her phone in hand, she dialed the number for the agency, her finger lingering over the call button for a moment before she pressed it.

"Marlene speaking, how may I assist you today?" came the familiar, professional voice from the other end.

"Hi Marlene, it’s Lexa Woods," she responded, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of anxiety. "I’ve made my decision regarding the alpha. I wanted to discuss it with you and see what the next steps are."

"That's great to hear, Lexa," Marlene replied warmly. "I know this has been a thoughtful process for you. Who have you decided to go with?"

After a slight pause, filled with a momentary doubt, Lexa affirmed, "I’ve chosen Clarke."

"Clarke, excellent choice," Marlene said. "She brings a unique perspective and strengths. What ultimately led you to this decision?"

Lexa hesitated, feeling a brief resurgence of her earlier indecision. "Well, there’s a lot about Clarke that resonates with me, her background, her values... and I guess the fact that she's a female alpha adds another layer of connection. I just hope I’ve made the right choice," Lexa confessed, a hint of uncertainty lacing her words.

"Choosing an alpha is always a significant and personal decision, Lexa. It’s normal to have some last-minute doubts, but it’s important that it feels right to you. Let’s arrange a meeting with Clarke. You two can discuss everything openly, and it will also be a chance for you to address any concerns you might have before moving forward."

"That would be very helpful," Lexa agreed, feeling reassured by Marlene's calm and understanding tone. "I think meeting her will give me the clarity to move forward confidently."

"Perfect," Marlene responded. "I’ll arrange for you both to meet and discuss the details. You’ll also have the opportunity to sign the contracts, ensuring everything is transparent and agreed upon. I’ll look for some potential dates and get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Marlene," Lexa said, relief washing over her. "I appreciate all your help."

"You’re welcome, Lexa. We're here to make sure that you are comfortable and confident in your decisions. I’ll be in touch very soon with some dates for the meeting," Marlene assured her.

As Lexa ended the call, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The decision was made, and a plan was in place. The thought of meeting Clarke and discussing the future brought a mix of excitement and a newfound peace. Lexa knew that whatever doubts she had would likely be settled once she and Clarke could sit down and talk face to face.

Marlene had been efficient and considerate in her arrangements. She set the meeting for two weeks out, giving Lexa and Clarke ample time to prepare for their first encounter. The date was marked on Lexa’s calendar, each day inching closer filled with a blend of anticipation and nerves.

Finally, the day of the meeting arrived. Lexa stood in front of her closet in the morning, her mind racing with the unusual complexity of choosing the right outfit. "What do you wear to a meeting with someone you are contractually going to be sleeping with in order to create a child?" she muttered to herself. The question was as surreal as her situation.

After much deliberation, Lexa opted for something that struck a balance between professional and comfortable—an elegant blouse paired with well-fitted trousers. It was important to her that she present herself as both serious about the arrangement and approachable.

Driving to the agency, Lexa’s hands were slightly shaking on the steering wheel. Her mind was a whirlwind of what-ifs and hopes. As she parked her car and walked toward the office building, she took deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.

The agency’s office was a space Lexa had become familiar with over the past weeks, but today, it seemed to hold a new form of gravity. Marlene greeted her warmly at the door, her smile reassuring.

"Clarke just arrived. She’s waiting in the meeting room," Marlene informed her, leading the way.

Lexa’s steps felt heavy yet determined as she approached the room. Marlene opened the door, and there sat Clarke, just as striking in person as she was in her photo. Her presence seemed to command the room, yet there was a softness in her eyes as she looked up and met Lexa’s gaze.

"Lexa, meet Clarke. Clarke, this is Lexa," Marlene introduced.

"Hi, Lexa," Clarke said, standing up to shake her hand. Her voice was calm, carrying a hint of warmth that eased some of Lexa's tension.

"Hello, Clarke," Lexa replied, her voice steadier than she felt. The handshake was firm and brief, but Lexa felt a surprising jolt of connection—an electric mix of nerves and excitement.

Marlene excused herself, leaving them to converse privately. "I’ll give you both some space to discuss. If you need anything, I'll be right outside," she said before closing the door gently behind her.

In the quiet confines of the meeting room, the air thick with anticipation, Lexa and Clarke faced each other. Their initial nervousness was palpable, each aware of the significance and unusual nature of their meeting. Clarke, sensing the growing tension, decided it was time to steer the conversation towards more familiar ground.

"So, Lexa," Clarke began, her tone casual yet curious, "Marlene didn't tell me much about your professional background. What do you do for a living?"

Lexa, slightly surprised by the shift towards personal details, replied, "I'm an accountant. I spend most of my days surrounded by numbers and spreadsheets."

Clarke chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a mix of amusement and relief at the shift to lighter conversation. "Oh, numbers and I have never been best friends. I was always the one in class who thought 'algebra' was a foreign language," she joked, a playful smile crossing her features.

Lexa found herself smiling genuinely for the first time since the meeting began, the tension easing from her shoulders. Clarke's humor and light-heartedness were infectious, and it helped Lexa feel more at ease. Encouraged by the more relaxed atmosphere, Lexa decided to learn more about Clarke's interests.

"I saw in your profile that you’re an artist," Lexa said, her tone shifting to one of genuine interest. "What kind of art do you do?"

Clarke’s face brightened at the question, clearly passionate about her craft. "I work mostly with mixed media. I love exploring textures and layers—there’s something about the tactile process of creating something tangible that really excites me. It’s a way to express emotions that words can’t always capture."

Lexa nodded, intrigued. "That sounds fascinating. Art seems like such a freeing way to express oneself."

"It really is," Clarke agreed, her enthusiasm evident. "And every piece feels like a part of me, yet once it’s done, it belongs to the world, not just to me."

Their conversation flowed more naturally now, the earlier awkwardness fading as they discussed their respective careers. Lexa felt a newfound appreciation for Clarke's artistic perspective, contrasting yet complementing her own methodical, numbers-driven approach. The dialogue not only bridged their understanding of each other’s professional lives but also built a deeper, more personal connection that eased their initial apprehensions about the arrangements ahead.

After Lexa and Clarke had spent some time getting to know each other and discussing their backgrounds, the door to the conference room opened, and Marlene re-entered, a stack of papers in hand. She approached the table with a professional smile, setting down the documents before them.

"Looks like you two have been having a good conversation," Marlene observed, taking a seat at the head of the table. She then shifted into her role as the facilitator of the process, her demeanor becoming more formal as she prepared to discuss the contracts and legalities. "I have here the draft contracts for your arrangement. Let's go through these together to ensure everything is clear and that all parties' expectations are met."

Marlene spread the documents out so both Lexa and Clarke could see them. She began to go through each section meticulously, explaining the legal jargon and what it meant in practical terms. "This section here outlines the obligations of both parties, including medical examinations, confidentiality agreements, and the planned schedule for the conception process," she explained, pointing to each clause as she spoke.

She then moved on to a critical part of the contract. "It's very important that both of you understand that this agreement is based on mutual consent and comfort levels. If at any point, for any reason, either of you feels that this arrangement isn't working out, you can withdraw from the contract." Marlene looked at both Lexa and Clarke earnestly, ensuring her point was clear. "This clause here provides the details on how to terminate the agreement respectfully and legally without facing any penalties."

Marlene paused to allow Lexa and Clarke to absorb the information, checking their faces for any signs of confusion or concern. "Do either of you have any questions about this part, or is there anything in the agreement that you would like to discuss further or modify?"

Lexa and Clarke exchanged a glance, both appreciating the agency's emphasis on their comfort and autonomy within the process. Clarke nodded, indicating she understood and appreciated the terms, "It's reassuring to know that there's flexibility if the circumstances change."

Lexa echoed Clarke’s sentiment. "Yes, I agree. It's important to have a way out if things don’t feel right. It makes the whole arrangement feel safer, more considered."

Marlene nodded, pleased with their responses. "Absolutely, we want to make sure you both feel secure and supported throughout this process." She then continued to go through the rest of the contract, covering financial arrangements, the handling of medical data, and the support services the agency would provide.

As the meeting drew to a close, Marlene handed each of them a pen. "Take your time to read through everything once more on your own. If you’re ready, you can sign today, or you can take the contracts home and think things over. We want you to make a decision when you're completely ready."

As Marlene finished outlining the terms and left the choice to sign immediately or take the contracts home for further consideration, Clarke turned her gaze towards Lexa, silently seeking her input on how to proceed. The moment was charged with significance; the decision to sign now would cement their agreement, setting them firmly on a path toward a shared, albeit unique, journey.

Lexa held Clarke’s gaze for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She could feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach, but beneath that, a steady current of resolve. This was what she wanted, and every interaction and discussion up to this point had only solidified her confidence in her choice.

Finally, with a nod to herself, Lexa reached for the pen that Marlene had placed on the table. Her hand was steady as she picked it up, and with a decisive motion, she signed her name on the dotted line. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper seemed to echo in the room, marking a significant milestone in her journey to motherhood.

Clarke watched Lexa sign, noting the determination and clarity in her actions. Seeing Lexa make her decision with such resolve helped dispel any lingering hesitations Clarke might have had. Inspired by Lexa's confidence and encouraged by the thoroughness and fairness of the contract, Clarke picked up her own pen. With a thoughtful look at Lexa, acknowledging her readiness and mutual commitment, Clarke signed her name as well.

As they both put their pens down, a sense of relief and anticipation filled the room. Marlene, witnessing this, offered them both a warm, reassuring smile. "Thank you both for your trust and courage in this process. I’ll make sure everything is processed promptly, and I’ll be here to support you both through every step that follows."

Lexa and Clarke exchanged a look, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had just agreed to embark on together. There was a mutual understanding that while the road ahead would be uncharted and not without its challenges, they were now linked by a shared commitment to bring a new life into the world, each in their respective roles.

As Lexa and Clarke gathered their belongings and prepared to leave the conference room, Marlene interjected with one final point of order, outlining the next steps in their newly formalized agreement.

"Before you both go, I want to discuss the logistics of your first official meeting," Marlene began, her tone shifting back to her professional demeanor. "The agency has protocols in place to ensure the safety and comfort of all parties involved, especially during initial meetings."

She pulled out a small tablet and tapped a few times on the screen, pulling up a schedule. "We prefer to arrange the meetings on neutral ground. It helps maintain privacy and provides a secure environment for both of you." Marlene looked up from her tablet, making sure she had both Lexa and Clarke’s attention.

"For this purpose, we usually arrange for a hotel room. This setting not only ensures confidentiality but also allows you both to meet in a neutral, comfortable environment without the pressures or personal biases that might come from meeting in a more personal space," Marlene explained. She assured them that the agency had longstanding arrangements with a reputable hotel chain known for its discretion and high standards of service.

"We’ll handle all the bookings and logistics. You won’t need to worry about any of the arrangements," she continued. "I’ll send you both the details and date options for your first meeting. You can choose what works best for both of you."

Marlene’s explanation provided a clear framework for how the initial stages of their agreement would proceed, emphasizing the agency’s commitment to maintaining a professional and secure process. "Safety and comfort are our top priorities. We want to ensure that both of you feel secure and at ease during your meetings."

Lexa and Clarke nodded in understanding, appreciating the thoroughness with which the agency was handling the situation. The idea of meeting in a hotel for the first few times made sense, and the agency’s attention to detail and safety was reassuring.

"Once I have everything arranged, I will send you an email with all the information, including the date, time, and location of the hotel. You will both have access to the private suite, and agency staff will be available on-call, should you need any assistance during the meeting," Marlene concluded, her tone both serious and comforting.

With everything laid out so clearly and professionally, Lexa and Clarke felt more confident about the steps ahead. They thanked Marlene for her assistance and left the office with a sense of readiness for the next phases of their journey together. The agency’s meticulous planning and support made a complex process seem manageable and secure.

As soon as Lexa got back into her car, she couldn't resist the urge to share the events of the meeting with Anya. She quickly dialed her cousin, who picked up after just a couple of rings.

"Hey, Lex, how did it go?" Anya's voice was eager but tinged with concern.

"It was... good, really good," Lexa began, her voice carrying a mix of relief and excitement. "Clarke is nothing like I expected. She’s very grounded and seems genuinely interested in making sure this works out for the best."

"Oh? And how does she look? Did she match up to her picture?" Anya asked, her tone playful yet probing.

Lexa laughed softly, a blush creeping across her cheeks even though Anya couldn’t see it. "Yes, she looks just like her photo. But her eyes, Anya, they’re this striking shade of blue. It’s almost mesmerizing."

There was a brief pause before Anya responded, her voice now carrying a note of caution. "Lex, remember this is a business arrangement. Don’t get carried away because of pretty eyes. You told me she’s there for the money, right?"

Lexa sighed, knowing Anya was just looking out for her. "Yes, I know. And yes, the financial aspect is a part of this for her, like it is for many alphas. But she doesn’t make it feel transactional, you know? She's professional but also really considerate."

Switching topics slightly, Lexa then shared more details about the arrangements that had been made for their upcoming interactions. "Marlene arranged for us to meet in a hotel. It’s a neutral place, which the agency has set up for safety and privacy. They’ve really thought of everything to make sure both parties feel secure."

Anya listened intently, her initial skepticism giving way to understanding. "That sounds sensible. They seem to be handling things very professionally. Just... be careful, Lex. I know you, and I know how easily you can get attached."

Lexa nodded to herself, taking in Anya’s advice. "I’ll be careful. I promise. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open—figuratively and literally," she added with a chuckle, trying to keep the mood light.

"Good to hear," Anya replied, her tone softening. "Keep me updated, okay? And if you need to talk, anytime, I’m here."

"Will do. Thanks, Anya. I really appreciate it," Lexa said, feeling grateful for having someone like Anya to confide in.

With that, they ended the call, and Lexa sat for a moment in the quiet of her car, reflecting on the conversation. She felt a blend of caution and excitement—a cocktail of emotions that she would need to manage carefully as she navigated this uncharted path.

Lexa stared at the computer screen, her eyes tracing over the details outlined in the email. The room at the Arkadia Hotel was booked under the agency's name, providing an added layer of privacy and discretion with the room number assigned to Lexa being "439". The preparations were meticulous, reflecting the seriousness and sensitivity of their upcoming encounter.

As she absorbed the reality of the arrangement, Lexa's mind wandered to the intricate details of alpha and omega biology—a fundamental aspect that dictated the unique way they could conceive. The biological necessity for an alpha to 'knot' during intercourse to successfully conceive was an evolutionary trait, deeply embedded in their genetics. It was a process designed to enhance the probability of conception, ensuring that during the crucial moments, the alpha's body could maximize the chance of fertilizing the omega's egg.

This biological imperative was at the forefront of Lexa's thoughts as she contemplated her meeting with Clarke. The concept was still somewhat surreal to her. On one hand, the scientific aspect of it made sense, and she respected the biological processes involved. On the other hand, facing the reality of engaging intimately with someone who was essentially a stranger, even with mutual agreement and understanding, was daunting.

The part of Lexa that hesitated wasn't concerned with the logistics or the biological necessities—those were facts she had come to terms with when she decided on this path. Instead, it was the emotional aspect, the vulnerability of sharing such a personal experience with someone she hadn't known long. Yet, despite these reservations, the stronger part of her—the part driven by her deep desire to become a mother—was prepared to move forward.

As she sat there, Lexa reminded herself why she had chosen this path. It wasn't just about fulfilling her desire to have a child; it was about doing so in a way that felt right to her, under terms she had carefully considered and agreed upon. Clarke, too, had her reasons for participating, and their prior meeting had laid a foundation of mutual respect and understanding.

With each passing moment, Lexa's resolve grew stronger. She knew that the biological processes were just one part of the equation. The more significant component was her readiness to embrace the responsibilities and joys of motherhood. By the time she closed her laptop, Lexa felt a quiet confidence. She was ready for Saturday—not just to meet the biological demands of the process, but to take a significant step towards a future she had long envisioned for herself.

Lexa arrived at the Arkadia Hotel promptly at 4 PM, her heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and resolve. The hotel's lobby was bustling with activity, but she navigated through it with a sense of purpose, her focus fixed on the task ahead. At the front desk, she confirmed her identity discreetly, referring only to the reservation number and the agency's name. The clerk handed her a key card with a polite, professional smile that didn't probe too deeply into the reasons for her stay.

With key card in hand, Lexa made her way to her room, her steps measured and her mind racing. The hallways of the hotel were elegantly carpeted and softly lit, creating an atmosphere of privacy and tranquility that helped soothe her escalating anxiety. Each step brought her closer to a moment that might very well define her future.

Standing before the door marked with the number 439, Lexa paused, her hand hovering over the key card reader. She knew that behind this door, preparations would need to be made, both mentally and physically, before Clarke's arrival. The agency had arranged for Clarke to arrive later, giving Lexa ample time to acclimate to the environment, to settle her thoughts, and to prepare herself emotionally and physically for what was to come.

All she had to do was swipe the key card and step inside. Taking a deep breath, Lexa steadied her trembling hand and slid the card through the reader. The light blinked green, and a soft click signaled her access. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the room.

The room was tastefully decorated, neutral tones and soft lighting crafting a calming environment. There was an understated elegance to it, conducive to both comfort and privacy. Lexa let her gaze sweep over the space—the king bed, the sitting area with its inviting sofa, and a small work desk that faced a large window with curtains drawn.

Closing the door behind her, Lexa allowed herself a few moments to just stand and absorb the reality of her surroundings. This was the setting where she hoped her dream of motherhood would begin to materialize. It felt surreal, yet incredibly real at the same time.

She placed her small overnight bag on the bed, unpacking a few personal items to make the space feel more familiar. Lexa then spent some time simply sitting on the edge of the bed, collecting her thoughts. She reflected on her journey to this point—the decisions made, the fears confronted, and the hopes cherished.

As the time ticked closer to 6 PM, Lexa prepared herself, changing into something comfortable yet appropriate for the occasion. She reminded herself why she was here, focusing on the positive outcomes she hoped to achieve. This was about more than just the mechanics of conception; it was about taking control of her destiny and shaping the future she desired.

By the time Lexa heard a knock at the door just after 6 PM, signaling Clarke’s arrival, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and clarity. She was ready to open the door, not just to Clarke, but to the possibilities that lay ahead.

Lexa walked to the door, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She reached out, her hand almost trembling as she turned the handle. The door swung open, and there stood Clarke, her presence as compelling in person as it had been in their previous meeting. Clarke offered Lexa a shy, somewhat tentative smile—a softening of her usually confident demeanor that made her seem more approachable in this intensely personal setting.

"Hi, Lexa," Clarke greeted with a quiet warmth, her voice carrying a hint of nervous anticipation.

"Hello, Clarke. Come in," Lexa replied, stepping aside to allow Clarke entry into the room. Her heart was beating fast, but she managed to maintain a composed exterior.

Clarke stepped past the threshold, her eyes quickly scanning the room as she entered. The soft lighting and tasteful decor seemed to impress her, and a small, appreciative smile appeared on her face. "This is a nice room," she commented, her tone carrying genuine approval. "The agency really does ensure comfort, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Lexa responded, closing the door behind Clarke. She felt a slight relief that the initial moment of greeting was over, and now they could proceed with the reason they were both there. "They try to make this as comfortable as possible for everyone involved."

Clarke nodded, setting down a small bag she had brought with her. She looked around, taking in the environment that would play a significant role in the next steps they were about to take. The room, was designed to be calming, a sanctuary from the outside world and the weight of the decisions made within its confines.

Turning back to Lexa, Clarke's initial shyness seemed to melt away slightly as she became more accustomed to the setting. "I appreciate the effort to make everything feel serene. It helps," she admitted, meeting Lexa’s eyes with a more steady gaze.

Lexa nodded, feeling a similar gratitude for the care taken to create a space that respected the gravity of their meeting. "I agree. It makes things a little easier," she said, managing a small smile.

There was a brief pause as both women acknowledged the situation, the room serving as a silent witness to their agreement and the hopes tied to it. Then, almost instinctively, Lexa gestured towards the small sitting area. "Would you like something to drink? Maybe some water or coffee before we... start?"

Clarke agreed, appreciating the offer to ease into the moment more gently. "Water would be great, thank you," she said, her voice steady but still carrying a trace of the nerves they both felt.

As Lexa went to get the water, the air between them filled with a quiet acknowledgment of the partnership they were about to embark upon, each aware of the significance of their actions, yet comforted by the shared understanding and the meticulously arranged environment that surrounded them.

Clarke made her way to the sofa, settling into the soft cushions with a slight exhale that betrayed her underlying nervousness. Lexa opened the mini-fridge, retrieving a bottle of water which she handed to Clarke with a gentle, reassuring smile. The small, ordinary gesture seemed to anchor them both amidst the swirling emotions of the occasion.

Lexa lingered by the edge of the sitting area, her hands clasped in front of her, unsure of her next move. The room, while comfortable and inviting, suddenly felt too vast, filled with unspoken expectations and the weight of their impending decision.

Clarke noticed Lexa's hesitation and patted the space next to her on the sofa. "Why don't you sit here?" she suggested, her voice carrying a soft but clear invitation. "It might be more comfortable to talk this way."

Lexa nodded, grateful for Clarke's lead. She moved to the sofa, taking a seat at a respectful distance that still allowed for private conversation. She could feel the warmth of Clarke's presence beside her, a comforting reminder that they were in this together.

Once settled, Clarke unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and took a sip, then turned slightly to face Lexa. She initiated some light conversation, perhaps recognizing the need to ease into the deeper discussions that lay ahead. "So, how was your day before coming here? Anything interesting happen?"

Lexa took a moment to switch gears from the intense internal monologue she had been engaged in all day. "Oh, it was pretty routine," she replied, managing a small chuckle. "Just some last-minute work stuff and mentally preparing for today. What about you? Did you find time to do any art today?"

Clarke shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. "Not today, unfortunately. But I did spend some time in the studio yesterday. It helps clear my mind, you know?"

"Yeah, I can imagine," Lexa responded, feeling the conversation begin to flow more naturally between them. "Art seems like a great way to express and maybe even sort through feelings, especially with everything that's going on."

Clarke nodded, visibly relaxed as the topic turned to her passion for art. "Exactly. It's not just about creating something beautiful or interesting. It's also therapeutic. It gives me a space to process things—a bit like an escape, but also a way to confront emotions directly."

As they continued talking, the atmosphere between Lexa and Clarke began to shift subtly. Clarke's discussion about her art opened a window into her inner world, showing Lexa the passion and depth that motivated her work. The conversation seemed to flow effortlessly now, with each topic leading seamlessly into the next, covering everything from favorite artists to the influence of different art forms on society.

The air lightened around them, filled with shared laughter and nods of understanding, as the initial awkwardness melted away under the warmth of genuine connection. They found common ground in unexpected places and differed in others, which only added layers to their interaction, making it richer, more textured.

About 30 minutes into their conversation, as they were discussing the emotional power of color in visual art, Clarke reached out and gently took Lexa's hand. Lexa felt a sudden impulse to retract her hand, startled by the unexpected contact. The moment hung between them, charged with the potential for deeper connection or withdrawal. But as she met Clarke’s eyes, Lexa saw the intention there—soft, unassuming, aiming to add a layer of intimacy and reassurance to their conversation.

Understanding Clarke’s gesture as an effort to bridge the gap between them further, Lexa relaxed and allowed her hand to stay in Clarke’s gentle grasp. The touch was comforting, grounding, and it brought a new level of openness to their dialogue.

Clarke’s thumb brushed lightly over Lexa’s hand, a soothing motion that seemed to anchor them both more firmly in the present moment. "Art is my way of understanding the world, and sometimes of escaping it," Clarke shared, her voice soft but resonant. "It's personal, yes, but sharing it feels like extending a part of myself to others, hoping they might understand or feel something too."

Lexa nodded, feeling the truth of those words resonate within her. "I think that's brave—putting a piece of yourself into your work and then putting it out there for the world to see and experience."

The atmosphere between Lexa and Clarke thickened with unspoken promises as the moments stretched on, each second building upon the last. Clarke's gaze intensified, conveying a mix of curiosity and boldness as she leaned in closer to Lexa. Her movements were deliberate, aimed at closing the distance between them with a cautious yet clear intent. When their eyes met, there was a silent exchange, a question posed and an answer given without words.

Clarke's lips touched Lexa's softly at first, a gentle test of boundaries that was sweet and tentative. The world around them seemed to pause, holding its breath along with them. Lexa's response was subtle but encouraging, enough to spur Clarke on. Pulling back slightly, Clarke searched Lexa’s eyes once more, seeking reassurance. What she found was a quiet acceptance, a willingness to explore the emotions that were beginning to simmer between them.

Emboldened by Lexa's silent affirmation, Clarke leaned in once more, this time with a firmer resolve. Her lips met Lexa's with more purpose, conveying a deeper intent. The kiss deepened, driven by a blend of newfound affection and a shared desire to discover more about each other through this new, unspoken language.

As the intensity of their kisses grew, so did their need for each other's closeness. The initial cautious exploration gave way to a more passionate expression of their burgeoning connection. Clarke’s hands found their way to Lexa's cheeks, holding her gently yet firmly, anchoring her as they navigated this new terrain together. Lexa responded in kind, her hands threading through Clarke's hair, pulling her closer, deepening their embrace.

The kisses evolved, becoming a profound dialogue of their lips and breaths, each kiss building upon the last, growing more fervent, more insistent. The connection sparked between them ignited something deeper, a flame that had been cautiously kindled now threatening to burn brightly.

Eventually, the need for air forced them apart, and they pulled back, each catching their breath, their foreheads resting against each other. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, heavy and warm. The room around them came back into focus slowly, the sounds of the city beyond the walls creeping back into their awareness.

Clarke and Lexa remained close, neither willing to break the connection entirely. Their eyes met again, this time reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability after sharing such a potent moment. The initial purpose of their arrangement still loomed in the background, but what had transpired between them now added a profound layer of intimacy and complexity to their relationship. This was no longer just about an agreement or a process—it was about them, here and now, together in a way that was unexpectedly profound.

In the quiet aftermath of their breathless exchange, the air between Clarke and Lexa was charged with a new, palpable energy. Clarke, sensing the shift in their dynamic, slowly stood up from the sofa. There was a silent invitation in her posture, a gentle yet unmistakable beckoning as she extended her hand toward Lexa.

Lexa watched Clarke's movement, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face. There was a moment of hesitation, a brief internal debate visible in her eyes as she considered Clarke's offered hand. It symbolized more than just a physical gesture; it was an invitation to continue exploring the depth of connection they had unexpectedly discovered.

With a subtle nod to herself, as if making a decision, Lexa placed her hand in Clarke’s. The contact was electric, reigniting the spark that had flared between them moments before. Pulled by a force that felt both thrilling and inevitable, Lexa stood, bringing her face to face with Clarke once again.

They stood there, hand in hand, close enough to feel each other's breath. The world around them seemed to fade, narrowing down to the space they shared. Lexa's eyes locked onto Clarke's, searching, questioning, and finding answers in the deep blue that stared back at her with an intensity that matched her own.

Without breaking eye contact, Clarke leaned in, her movements deliberate and full of intention. Lexa’s breath hitched, her body and mind anticipating the contact that was to come. As their lips met again, the kiss was different from the ones before. This time it was charged with the energy of standing together, of the decision to step into this space as equals, partners in whatever was unfolding between them.

The kiss deepened naturally, their bodies instinctively moving closer until they were embracing fully, the world around them completely forgotten. Clarke's hands moved to Lexa’s lower back, pulling her closer, while Lexa’s arms wrapped around Clarke’s neck, anchoring herself to the moment, to Clarke.

In that kiss, they communicated more than could be expressed in words. It was a promise, a commitment not just to the process they were undertaking but an acknowledgment of the vulnerability and strength found in true intimacy.

As the intensity of their kisses deepened, Clarke gently guided Lexa towards the bed, their hands intertwined, conveying trust and mutual desire. The steps were few but filled with anticipation, each one marking a deeper commitment to the moment and to each other. As they reached the edge of the bed, their lips barely parted, sustaining the connection that had now become their world.

Standing beside the bed, Clarke’s hands slowly found the edge of Lexa’s shirt. Each touch was careful, measured, filled with an unspoken question that Lexa answered with a slight nod, a breathless "yes" whispered between kisses. Clarke’s fingers trembled slightly—not with hesitation but with the gravity of the moment, aware of the trust Lexa was placing in her.

With each piece of clothing that Clarke gently removed, Lexa felt a layer of her defenses dissolve, not just exposing her skin but opening up deeper parts of herself. Clarke’s touch was reverent, filled with care and attentiveness that spoke volumes. She took her time, ensuring that each movement, each kiss that followed the removal of a garment, honored the vulnerability and strength Lexa displayed.

Lexa, for her part, felt an overwhelming sense of being cared for. It was not just the physical undressing but the way Clarke managed every action with such gentleness—it made her feel cherished in a way she hadn’t anticipated in this arrangement. Each kiss Clarke planted on her newly exposed skin wasn't just sensual but comforting, affirming their connection and Clarke’s respect for her.

As Lexa stood there, with Clarke’s hands skillfully and tenderly ensuring her comfort, she found herself more assured with each passing second. The vulnerability of being undressed was overshadowed by the security Clarke’s demeanor provided. It was a strange, beautiful dichotomy—standing there exposed yet feeling entirely safe.

When Lexa was finally free of her clothing, Clarke paused, giving her a moment to adjust. She looked into Lexa’s eyes, seeking any signs of discomfort or withdrawal. Seeing none, only a quiet gratitude and trust, Clarke leaned in for another kiss, this one conveying her appreciation for Lexa’s trust.

They moved together onto the bed, their movements synchronized, a dance guided by mutual understanding and the desire to maintain the emotional connection that had become as vital as their physical one.

As they shifted together on the soft expanse of the bed, Clarke carefully positioned herself between Lexa's legs. The air around them was thick with anticipation, yet Clarke made no immediate move to continue. Instead, she paused, her eyes lifting to meet Lexa's in a silent, searching communication. The intensity of her gaze was soft but intent, probing gently for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty in Lexa's expression.

Lexa, feeling Clarke’s gaze upon her, understood the unspoken question hanging between them. The world seemed to hold its breath as she considered her feelings, the warmth of Clarke's body an anchoring presence. In Clarke's eyes, she saw not just desire but a profound care and patience. It was clear Clarke was ready to stop at the slightest hint of reluctance, ready to put Lexa’s emotional well-being above all else.

Feeling a surge of trust and a deep, affirming connection to Clarke, Lexa reached up, her hand gently caressing Clarke’s cheek. Her touch was tender, meant to reassure as much as to give consent. With a soft smile that spoke volumes, Lexa nodded slightly, her eyes conveying her readiness and appreciation for Clarke’s considerate approach.

Clarke, receiving the clear, affirmative response she had sought, allowed a relieved and grateful smile to curve her lips. But still, she moved slowly, maintaining eye contact as she gradually resumed closing the distance between them. Her actions were deliberate and unhurried, ensuring Lexa remained comfortable.

As they lay together on the bed, the world outside the soft cocoon of their room seemed distant and unimportant. Clarke's kisses were tender and deliberate, focusing solely on Lexa's lips with a gentle insistence that spoke volumes. Each touch was filled with the silent communication that had become their language—a language of looks that asked and answered without words.

Clarke, ever attentive to Lexa's comfort and readiness, made no attempt to escalate beyond their kissing. She was content to explore the contours of Lexa's lips, the soft exchanges grounding and deepening their connection. The slow, purposeful pace she set was like a melody, soft and rhythmic, designed to soothe and affirm.

Lexa, enveloped in the warmth of Clarke's nearness, felt a blossoming desire to move forward, driven not just by physical need but by the emotional intimacy they were weaving with each kiss. Feeling a growing urgency, Lexa began to gently shift her hips beneath Clarke, a subtle movement but a clear indication of her readiness to deepen their physical connection. Her movements were hesitant at first, testing Clarke’s response, seeking to communicate her desires without disrupting the harmony of their current engagement.

Clarke, ever so perceptive to Lexa’s cues, felt the gentle undulation of Lexa's hips against her. She paused, their lips parting slightly as she sought Lexa's eyes. In them, Clarke found not just the green light she needed but a spark of deeper desire, a silent plea to bridge the gap between affection and passion.

Sensing Lexa's readiness, Clarke allowed a moment for them both to acknowledge the shift in their dynamic. She gave a small, affirming smile, her hands framing Lexa's face as if to say she understood, and she was there with her, every step of the way.

Encouraged by Lexa's clear communication, Clarke deepened their kiss, her movements becoming more assured, more aligned with the rising tide of their desires. Her hands, which had been content to cradle Lexa’s face, now wandered with purpose, tracing paths down her neck and shoulders, mapping the terrain of her skin with a reverent touch.

Lexa responded in kind, her own hands exploring Clarke’s back, pulling her closer, reducing the space between them to nothing. Their movements became a dance, a give and take that spoke of mutual desire —a dance that promised to carry them forward into the next chapter of their night together.

As the depth of their connection grew more intense, Clarke remained acutely aware of the trust Lexa had placed in her. With every move she made, Clarke was considerate, her actions measured and gentle to ensure she maintained the sanctity of that trust. When the moment came to deepen their physical connection further, Clarke approached it with a profound sense of responsibility and care.

With a reassuring look into Lexa's eyes, Clarke sought silent permission to continue, waiting for a nod of assent before proceeding. Lexa's response, a soft affirmation accompanied by a nervous but trusting smile, gave Clarke the green light she needed. Very slowly, Clarke began to slide closer, merging their bodies in the most intimate of ways.

Clarke's movements were slow, almost painstakingly so, as she carefully navigated this new level of closeness. She was acutely conscious of Lexa's reactions, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. As Clarke gradually slid into Lexa, she made sure to control her movements, giving Lexa time to adjust to the new sensations.

"Are you alright?" Clarke whispered, her voice low and soothing.

Lexa, feeling the care with which Clarke moved, nodded, her initial tension easing under Clarke's attentive gaze. "Yes," she breathed out, a hint of relief in her voice as she found the sensation different but not unpleasant, her body slowly adapting to Clarke's presence.

Clarke paused, allowing Lexa a moment to get accustomed to the feeling, her hand gently caressing Lexa's arm in a comforting gesture. The room was filled with a tense but tender energy, each aware of the significance of the moment.

As Lexa relaxed more, Clarke continued, still cautious, moving in a rhythm dictated by Lexa's responses. Every slight adjustment, every careful motion was made with Lexa’s comfort in mind. Clarke’s focus was entirely on Lexa, ensuring that her experience was as gentle and loving as possible.

As Clarke and Lexa continued their intimate connection, the intensity of their movements gradually built up. Clarke, ever attentive to Lexa's comfort and reactions, had initially maintained a slow and gentle rhythm, ensuring that every motion was measured and considerate. However, as the moments passed, the natural progression of their physical responses began to drive the pace.

Clarke could feel the building pressure of her own impending release, a physical response that would soon reach its peak. She knew it was crucial for Lexa to be ready for her knot. This required a careful balance, speeding up her movements to match the escalating intensity while ensuring Lexa was not overwhelmed.

With a deep breath to steady her nerves and focus her intentions, Clarke began to gradually increase the rhythm of her hips, her movements becoming more deliberate. "Lexa," she murmured softly, her voice a blend of desire and concern, "I'm getting close. Just let me know if you need me to slow down, okay?"

Lexa, caught up in the rising tide of sensation, nodded, her breath coming in quicker gasps. She placed her hands on Clarke's hips, a silent signal of her engagement and readiness. Lexa's eyes, wide and focused, locked with Clarke's, communicating her trust and willingness to continue.

Clarke, reassured by Lexa's response, carefully monitored her own body's signals while also watching Lexa's reactions closely. She adjusted her movements, aligning them with Lexa's subtle cues and the increasing demands of her own body. The tempo of her hips quickened in a controlled manner, each thrust deeper and more purposeful.

As Clarke navigated this critical juncture, her focus was split between her own physiological responses and Lexa's comfort. She was acutely aware of the importance of timing and coordination in this moment for achieving their goal.

The air hummed with the rhythm of their synchronized breaths, the faint whisper of skin gliding against skin. Clarke felt the imminent onset of her climax, the pressure mounting inexorably. She continued to move with a mixture of urgency and care, prepared to guide both herself and Lexa through the intensity of the experience.

Their connection, both physical and emotional, had deepened throughout their encounter, each moment building upon the last to create a profound bond. As Clarke approached her peak, she held Lexa's gaze, seeking and finding the reassurance she needed to let go, trusting that Lexa was with her every step of the way.

As the crescendo of Clarke's movements reached its peak, the inevitable moment of release washed over her with overwhelming intensity. Her body tensed, every muscle straining under the force of her climax. The world narrowed to the profound connection between them, a visceral link that pulsed with each beat of her heart.

Overwhelmed by the surge of sensations, Clarke's strength waned, and she could no longer support herself. Gently, she collapsed onto Lexa, her breath ragged and heavy, echoing in the quiet of the room. Her body molded against Lexa's, a perfect fit that spoke volumes of their physical and emotional synchrony throughout this intimate journey.

After her release, Clarke sought to maintain their closeness, turning her face towards Lexa's neck. She pressed soft kisses there, near Lexa's pulse point where she could feel the rapid beat of Lexa's heart against her lips. Clarke’s breath warmed Lexa’s skin, her exhales becoming slower and more measured as she gradually regained her composure.

The room was filled with a palpable sense of completion and tranquility, the lingering tension dissolving into a peaceful stillness. Lexa murmured gently into Clarke's ear, her voice low and soothing, "Thank you," a simple phrase that carried the weight of her appreciation for Clarke’s participation in such a profound moment.

Lexa, feeling Clarke's weight comfortably against her, wrapped her arms around Clarke, holding her close. She responded in kind, her own breathing syncing with Clarke’s as they both relaxed into the afterglow. Lexa’s fingers trailed softly down Clarke’s back, grounding her with gentle, reassuring touches that conveyed her own deep sense of connection and care.

#my writing

41 notes · View notes