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00kittenz · 2 days

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── “ get to the car, we’re leaving ” ( lhs ) 🥃

๑ In which Heeseung doesn’t take it lightly to you getting too close to one of the frat guys at a college party…

pair: jock!heeseung ㅊ thick gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, angst ??, fluff, mentions of drinking & smoking (weed), jealousy, upset heeseung but also soft, argument, hee almost fucks things up (relationship wise) + hot makeup s.x, spanking, shaking, fingering, oral (f. rec), piv, creampie | words: 2.6k

decided to make another jock!hee fic bc the first one i made got rlly popular ! i wanted to showcase more of what goes on in their lives and relationship lol, enjoyyy <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you were chosen as tonight’s designated driver, per usual. one of your roommates invited you to her senior’s after exams party and of course you had to bring your significant other along with you for protection. though you weren’t planning on doing anything crazy, there was no way in hell heeseung wasn’t getting high tonight; plus with all the heavy drinks jay managed to sneak into his dorm, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gotten drunk either.

“jake, it’s your go !” heeseung slurs a bit, sipping from his red solo cup. “shit, my bad, it’s my win anyway.” jake places his play in a set of three on the table, a sly smirk fixed on his features, flexing his cockiness.

“oh, fuck you..” heeseung spits, dramatically tossing his cards onto the table, earning a light chuckle from you.

“where are you going ?” you watched as his body elevated from his last position.

“out of drink.” he pouts, ruffling his hand through your hair. “you coming with ?” his hand lifts yours in a way to pull you upwards.

“no.. don’ feel like it,” you gave him a soft smile, tapping his waist. “but make it quick !”

with that his slim body conjured into the kitchen, where a small bar had been made. everyone else who’d been playing terrible plays of poker kingdom were either now making out, drinking, smoking, or just left in general. yet here you are, bored out of your mind and couldn’t drink at all, pulling out your phone as you waited patiently for your boyfriend to come back.

it’s been 20 minutes… what could possibly be taking so long? that’s all that ran over your mind before you actually got up to go find him yourself. you feel like you need a leash on that boy sometimes.. scanning each crowd, different colonies of people in groups, some even scattered. that’s when your eyes landed on a familiar figure— jay, but this time he seemed free.

๑ ๑ ๑

“i really do have a girlfriend,” heeseung said loud enough for the random girl to hear over the blaring music.

“oh, trust me i wouldn’t take a guy as handsome as you to not be taken,” she spoke, “but it doesn’t seem like she’s here right now.”

he’s now come to realize that it had been awhile since he were waiting on his drink, and started to scan the area looking for you. you were with jay, a kind but natural flirt, hell, owner of this party. you asked him to help you look around for your boyfriend, since you were growing concerned. and he did so, checking everywhere even all the rooms.. once heeseung’s eyes bounced to your figure, he was visibly upset at what he saw.

“yeah no, fuck outta here” he scoffs, the drink became completely irrelevant to him now and ditched the annoying girl. you could be fucking around with his close friend as of now and that thought alone sobered him up to a peak. why the hell are they going into a room, at a party..? he knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and he may be a little drunk/high but he’s not stupid. he wanted to come up with a logical reason but he couldn’t, that’s all he could think as he stepped closer and closer to the door you and jay hid behind.

you both had vanished from the hallway of doors before he’d even gotten there, opting to check the bar instead, only to find the perky girl who’d talked to him before. heeseung was so confused, but it didn’t stop him from rummaging from room to room. only making him angrier that you weren’t in any of them, and neither was jay. his hand dove into the back pocket of his jeans to ring your number. when you answered, his voice immediately aired through the speaker.

“y/n, where the hell are you ?! ” he drunkenly grumbles. you only laugh, you couldn’t help yourself. “hello ? .. ” you laughed again.

when you began to worry about heeseung being intoxicated and wandering around a party full of girls the panic settled in quickly. so, jay being the gentleman nobody thinks he is, tries to ease your mind with jokes to cheer you up as you kept looking around. that being while you were still on the phone, struggling to answer. “hello?..”

“y/n, can you hear me ??” he says for the millionth time already, voice laced with aggravated undertones.

“hello ? who is this ??” you hadn’t checked the caller id and you were far too occupied with finding heeseung. the music was far too loud and as you couldn’t hear any responses, you just hung up.

“what the actual fuck…” heeseung was more pissed off than confused, he couldn’t believe you’d just hang up on him like that. were his suspicions actually true ??

๑ ๑ ๑

“wanna try the balcony next ?” jay suggests as he’s slowly running out of options of where he could be, he knew he had to be in this house somewhere— heeseung would never just up and leave without you.

“sure!” you nod, following behind him as he lead you outside.

meanwhile, heeseung’s driving himself to a new level of insanity from not being able to find you. he thinks of anywhere else you could’ve run to and the last and only place he hadn’t checked yet— the balcony. he could only hope you were out there or he’s going to be worried sick. his fingers curl around the handle of the sliding door opening it to a surprised jay, and an even more shocked, you. both of your eyes darting to heeseung as soon as his figure leaned into frame.

“get the fuck up.” heeseung’s eyes glared at your being in utter annoyance.

“hee, i was looking for you!” you followed as he said, capturing his arms in yours only to your surprise he’d let go.

“jay, do you mind ?” the extra had gotten the message quickly and he just headed back inside to his packed habitat.

“where did you go baby, i couldn’t find you..” you say, looking into his eyes in honesty noticing the atmospheres gotten heavy.

“where did i go?? y/n, where did YOU go ?!” his figure shifts, staring at you in utter disgust. his mind was taking him to all kinds of places, places he never wanted to see, think, or hear of.

“to look for you? i said that already.” your brows furrowed.

“hmm, that's crazy cause i was doing the same thing.” he wanted to cut to the chase. “couldn’t find me so you just wandered off with jay ?? huh?”

“what ?? is that how low you think of me ? heeseung ??” your hands reach your hips. you can’t help but be offended. your boyfriend thought you were jacking off with his friend of all people. you had a reason to be.

“i mean it’s what it looked like !” he crosses his arms across his chest as he gritted through his teeth. “knew you shouldn’t have worn this outfit, it’s too revealing, bet you were the talk of the whole night..”

“wow,” you scoff, your body now facing another direction. you couldn’t believe him right now, first he accuses you of being with jay and now he’s acting insecure all because you wanted to wear a cute skirt. you don’t wear those quite often so it took a lot of courage for you to, but now you’re just second guessing everything.

“i’m talking to you, y/n. look at me.” you were flabbergasted, talk to him ?? what about how he openly admits you would cheat on him, or how he’s criticizing you for simply wearing something out of your comfort zone.

“well, i’m done talking.”

“fine, get to the car. we’re leaving.” you completely ignored him but had done as he said. he was fully sober by now, you were sure. he followed you not so long after storming out of the front door and once in the car, he slammed the door behind him.

๑ ๑ ๑

the drive from jay’s place was filled with a weird tension in the air, you noticed heeseung giving you glances from time to time checking up on you, but you weren’t to budge until he apologized to you. he thought you were for the team, when he knows you’re his, and only his. the car pauses once in the alignment of your driveway. to your dismay, you hear the doors locking while you’re still inside.

“let me out, hee.” you sigh heavily, gripping on the door handle.

“babe, can we talk first..” you couldn’t believe it, he wants to talk to you ?? really ?? the ‘friend fucker??’ how funny, you glare at him.

“what heeseung, i’m really tired.” you avert your gaze into the window.

“i’m sorry, i-” you cut him off. “you’re sorry ?! wow ?? when you should have been earlier ?? where was this apology earlier heeseung, when you actually hurt me.” your voice raised a notch.

“you know it was the heat of the moment, what’d you want me to think?? ‘oh she’s definitely not with the flirtiest guy on campus, yeah he totally doesn’t wanna fuck my hot girlfriend’.” he mocked a slight pitch change in his voice.

your mouth gaped. “are you really sorry or do you just wanna sleep next to me ??” you asked, you knew he couldn’t sleep alone, he needed you by his side.

“how about both. you know i mean it y/n. you’re just upset.” he plays with the steering wheel.

“dont tell me what i am, now let me out.” you grimace.

he clearly got upset by this, “you aren’t even trying to ease up the problem here ! and then later on you know you’re gonna pin everything on me. knowing damn well i tried fixing things.” he wavered his hands in the air as he spoke, he was kinda right yet you just didn’t like the way he was going about it. yes, he is trying to apologize, but you couldn’t help but still be mad.

“i get that, thanks for your apology.. but i don’t like how you spoke to me earlier.” your eyes fixate on his own. you felt the air tighten, you always did. there was genuine remorse in his eyes, you felt it.

hell, your man had the prettiest face you’d ever seen. and hell, he looked so sexy when he’s mad, and especially now, when he’s sorry. you simply wanted to tear him apart. his hand reaches yours and as he got the chance he wanted to show you how sorry he truly was. the softness of his lips caressed yours. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t wet right now. how couldn’t you be…

๑ ๑ ๑

“mm.. hee ..” you whined as the weight of his lips on yours lightened.

“i don’ wanna apologize to you in here,” he finally unlocked the doors. “get your pretty ass upstairs.”

his eyes traced your body, longing towards the way your pretty thighs look.. then gazing up at your ass as you complied, leaving your skirt riding up it’s soft exterior. an immediate tent grew in his pants. the one thing he loved most about you body wise, had to be your ass. it molded into his hands just perfectly. and it replied to any friction he applied to it on command. he loved how red and bruised it got once his hands launched across it’s surface. and how he’d sometimes be able to see his own handprints. you were the sexiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on.

๑ ๑ ๑

“nggh, hee.. yes, please..” you drool out at the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he pounded against you. “fuck me baby, fuck me!” you yelp when you feel his nails gripping into your waist.

“you want it baby, huh, you want it so deep in you don’t you, huh ???” his lips caressed your neck as he grabs onto your leg to inch himself more into you.

“you’re close? mhm, you like how i fuck you sloppy? such a dirty slut for me ..” he chuckled as he felt you clench around his length at his dirty words. “open your mouth. when i speak to you” his fingers lazily run circles around your clit.

you couldn’t mutter a single word, he’d fucked you completely dumb, your orgasm swelled up so deep inside you. you felt like you could puke but you didn’t want it to stop. you never wanted it to end.

“hah.. shit baby, ‘m gonna cum..” your nails grip his forearms, your arms pushing your boobs together caging them in.

he groaned at the beautiful sight below him, leaning down onto your nakedness caressing one of your nipples with his tongue. your stomach tingled, by the time you knew it your orgasm peaked, leaving his cock all messy of your juices. you whined as he pulls out, looking down at your folds and spreading them before grazing his mouth over your heat, flicking his tongue on your already overly sensitive bud. you could cry right in this moment from just how heavenly your boyfriend was making you feel. you held onto him for dear life as he buried his face between your plush thighs, the lewd sounds filling the room as he drank you.

“turn over.” he demands once coming back up for air again, you obey straight away, laying onto your stomach, letting out heavy breaths as your body ached.

heeseung lifted your hips, putting you on all fours.

“can you take some more for me baby? ‘m close..” he puckers kisses all over your ass and waist, heeseung hadn’t came yet. he kinda has this weird game in his head where he tries to see how long he can last until he physically just can’t take it anymore. it’s oddly satisfying in the end because not only does he cum so much more but he gets to fuck you even longer, it’s a win win in his book !

“mhm.. more baby !” you respond quickly, you were greedy as fuck for his cock and he loved that you were just as horny as him.

with that, he were thrusting like no tomorrow into your tight cunt. a loud slap to your ass comes with full force, barely giving you any time to react. your body jerks forward, jaw locked in place as you grab onto the sheets to keep you stable. your head was empty, no thoughts other than how good heeseung was fucking you like his life depends on it.

“pussy made just for me, you feel so good baby. you love milking my cock, don’t you?” his moaning reached another level of loud. it was so sexy..

“all yours baby, please come in me ! fill me up hee !!” he pulled out before thrashing back in, noticing the white ring around his dick changing sizes everytime his length swipes through your core.

“that’s right, yeah baby, where do you want it ??” his pace quickens, you can barely catch your breath. you felt your high returning, his high approaching quicker as you clench around him, once more.

“inside ! oh please inside me !!” you turn your head towards him giving him a pleading look, a look that stroked his ego a little too much. you felt his jizz filling you up and leaking from your open as he slid himself from you.

“baby!.. i’m not done..” you pouted.

“i know, i know. don’t worry princess.” you felt two of his digits thrusting into you, biting your lip as he made your back arch in surprise.

your hand grips the sheets of the bed even tighter as the other played over your thirsty clit. and with just a curl, you bursted. whines filling the room, your body collapsing and a shaky sigh leaving your body as you rub your legs together to stop the throb, your lover felt accomplished with the result.

“shaking orgasm.” he chuckled, his fingers traced lines along the slope of your waist and his lips finding place on yours.

what an apology. you felt lush. (つω`｡)

THNX FOR 450+ FOLLOWERS YA’LL WTF, it’s only been like 2 weeks on this acc :’)) i appreciate all of u for reading my content hehe ♡︎

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #heeseung drabbles #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enha smut

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tainbocuailnge · 3 days

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dolls by design cannot move without someone external to them moving their limbs, so even if a living doll character can move on their own, they still implicitly have this relationship to others where they not only cannot resist being touched (and by extension controlled), they cannot do anything at all otherwise. dynamics of power and control are often eroticised, and doll joints immediately mark a character as slotting into this kind of dynamic, similar to how maid outfits are sexy to some people because of the dynamic of servitude they signify. this is the main point that the vast majority of self proclaimed doll enjoyers seem to latch onto, doll joints as visual shorthand for a dynamic of dependency that may or may not be sexual.

dolls exist to entertain someone and be loved by them, their sole purpose is quite literally to look pretty for their owner. this too is a popular erotic dynamic even when no dolls are involved. dolls are artificial creations, so a doll inherently exists the way it does because someone wanted it to. in some cases this is extended into its reverse: a doll does not exist without someone wanting it to, therefore, the doll is wanted because it exists. the very fact that the doll exists implies a fascination with either the doll itself or the one it's made to look like, because without this fascination it wouldn't exist to begin with. the doll exists to be loved, so you desire it by virtue of its existence, and this gives it a certain power over you despite its powerless nature. the most common cursed doll in media is one that is resentful over being abandoned. the desire for another is inherent to dolls and this is, obviously, erotic.

in my experience this is usually the angle when you're dealing with a sorcerer that made themselves a doll body or something like that. the tension between the doll and the force that moves it is resolved by having these be the same entity, so they're a doll to signify fascination instead, be it from or towards the one inhabiting the doll.

dolls are often associated with being fragile and delicate, especially the ball jointed type that living doll characters will usually invoke. they have to be touched in order to act, but cannot be touched without risk of breaking this precious delicate object. this tension of a body that both invites and discourages being touched is also erotic.

a doll's body is implicitly delicate, but it is also a body that can be repaired or replaced when it breaks. you can completely dismantle a doll without actually harming it, and in fact dismantling it is necessary to fix it in case it does break. a sentient doll's body would logically have to experience itself differently than a human flesh body. since you can open up and pull apart a doll in various ways without actually hurting it, there are naturally various ways to touch it erotically that you could never do with a living person, and because the doll by definition exists for you, this touch can be as painful or pleasurable for the doll as your proclivities dictate. for some reason fucking nobody on pixiv seems to agree with me on this point but this is a big one for me personally, the unique ways of interacting with doll bodies as extension and expression of the way a doll's body inherently has a complex and contradictory relationship with being touched. we're talking about a body made of gaps, go stick something in those for fucks sake.

a doll allowing itself to be taken apart to be repaired (or to have freak sex) is an incredible display of trust similar to that of robots letting you poke around their circuitry. it's an emotional intimacy that's only possible with this kind of artificial partner. the capacity for and necessity of occasionally being completely taken apart and reassembled to continue functioning, of exposing yourself entirely and putting your trust in someone's deft hands, is obviously erotic.

a doll cannot exist independently, and while its purpose is to be loved, it's rare for it to be thought of as an independent actor by anyone other than children. also, if the doll /isn't/ loved it becomes completely helpless, because it needs someone else to move it, be it literally or metaphorically. a living doll character will, sooner or later and thematically if not directly, have to contend with the fact that this is a horrifically stunted existence for a sentient being to have. a doll cannot meaningfully resist anything that is done to it, and its only blessing is that it has a body that can endure this. you can violate dolls both physically and emotionally in ways far more invasive than with a real person, and depending on your angle their very existence as a doll is a violation in itself, something that lends itself well to the overlap between horror and eroticism. this is another favourite of mine that I barely see reflected in what other people are cooking up in my field of vision.

even if a particular doll character doesn't tick any of these boxes regarding characterisation or relationships, the fact that they have doll joints anyway is a constant reminder of these associations, and this contrast is alluring in itself. independence does not come naturally to a doll, so a doll that acts freely is fighting a constant battle against its own nature. this is hot and extremely underutilized.

being denied agency because the material reality of your body makes you dependent on the goodwill of others is an experience many real people can relate to for a wide range of reasons, so living dolls are useful abstractions to explore these experiences and reframe these limitations as something that makes you desirable. unfortunately this leads to most of the dollposting on this site being really boring to me because its all like "what if i was cute and loved and didn't have to think for myself" instead of the horrific violation and unique physical experience parts that i'm personally interested in, but it's undeniably a major contributing factor to general doll enjoyment.

the presence of doll joints on a character invokes a relationship to the body and the people around them that lends itself well to various popular erotic dynamics, and which marks them as object of desire not entirely unlike how a womb tattoo marks someone as primed for fucking except for people who can't get off without metaphors. im sure for a lot of people it's really not any deeper than "it looks nice :)" and that's fair, I'm a pretentious elitist who thinks most people producing doll fetish stuff are boring about it though. stop drawing regular sex with more lines and stick your fingers in there NOW

#anyway i love cuchulainn

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leeechin · 2 days

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jealous sex with jungwon 🙏🏼

monopolizing ( yang jungwon ) 18+

✧ pairing: bf!jungwon x fem!reader ⌗ warnings: unprotected sex (don't do that), rough sex. spanking, slight degradation, size kink i mean look at his broad shoulders pls, jungwon's kinda mean in this 😕 but you love it, thighriding, he takes one video (consented), reader gets fucked dumb (?), mention of heeseung lol.

a/n: kind of short but i changed the req up with a little plot so i hope this meets ur expectations anon <3 reqs r open for short drabbles and fics don't be shy !! 🫶

word count: ( 1.9k )

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jungwon's really good at doing his part as a loving and attentive boyfriend that goes by your demands. but it's different when it's in bed.. and you guys are aware the members have heard you guys before. they just love to tease the fuck out of jungwon.

he's watching you on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor playing a card game with heeseung, laughing at whatever he was saying, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. jungwon blinks at your pretty face bursting into laughter. he can't help but wish you gave him attention instead, i mean he could also play a card game with you :(

"yo jungwon! you haven't look away from y/n once since she started playing card games with heeseung!" jake points out, clearly seeing jealously seep out of jungwon's face. jungwon clenches his teeth watching you playfully swat heeseung's shoulder after you lose a card game. the no response from jungwon shows it all. "don't tell me he's jealous—!" sunghoon jokes, eyes staring the same direction jungwon's are.

"w-what?! no i'm not—!" jungwon sputters in response, "you're so bad at lying." jay tsks as he passes by the kitchen, grabbing a plate and leaving. jungwon tries distracting himself from continuing to look at you and heeseung, opening random kitchen cabinet doors until he hears your cheerful voice.

"hi wonnie." you mumble, arms wrapping from behind him and nuzzling your face against his neck. jungwon feels his cheeks heat up at your affection infront of all of his fellow bandmates.

"hi baby." he responds turning around and placing a quick peck on your lips, hands placed on both side of your hips.

"look at wonnie all shy and everything!" jake mocks, causing you to let out a scoff and throw a middle finger at him while still embraced in jungwon's arms. "get a room you freaks!" sunghoon adds on, a look of disgust plastered on his face jokingly.

you smirk, moving your hands to grabbing at jungwon's biceps. once again so grateful that the boys have been dragging him out to the gym. "oh we definitely will, trust. matter of fact, right now—!" you exclaim, dragging jungwon's taller frame behind you as you find the door to his room. everybody else in the house making sure to turn up the volume of the tv and blast music.

"is this because she was playing apples to apples with me was it—?" heeseung asks, frowning at the pile of cards with the unfinished game the two of you were playing. "no shit sherlock."

closing the door behind you, a mischievous smile glints on your face, hands roaming around jungwon's chest. "jealousy is such a sexy look on your face." your lips quirking into a smile, staring at your boyfriend as you await a response. jungwon let’s out a low growl, realizing that you made him jealous on purpose. bending you over the dresser by his door, a loud smack! landed on your clothed ass. you already feel wetness seeping out of your cunt at the contact, squealing and pushing back.

"such a naughty girl. you enjoy doing this to me huh?" both hands pulling down your shorts, hissing at the sight of your pink lacy thong. pulling the elastic away and letting it slap against your skin causing you to yelp at the contact. "mmh please won'—! i’ve been bad, i'm sorry!"

"don't think you can get away with this so easily baby. you think heeseung can fuck you the way i do?" he responds with his hands roaming all over your body, slowly removing every article of clothing left on you except for your cute pink panties.

jungwon had no remorse in teasing you, finding it amusing at how quick you can turn into putty with him barely doing anything to you.

your now naked body trembling at jungwon's teasing touches, eager to feel more. "what happens to good girls when they decide they want to be bad huh?" he chuckled at the wetness pooling down your inner thighs with your body still bent over the dresser. "they get punished." you whine, attempting to free yourself from jungwon's tight pinning. he lets out a sound of approval, loosening his grip on your hips, ridding himself off of all his clothes but leaving his boxers on. moving to sit himself against the headboard and patting on his his thighs. "ride my thigh."

scrambling to crawl on the bed. you look up to see your boyfriend immersed at your eagerness. all you could do at that moment was stare dumbly at jungwon. "i— don't know if i can do it wonnie." you frown, your gaze pleading for jungwon to manhandle you and fuck you senseless. "you wanted to play games with me infront of everybody, don't be so shy now pretty."

your thighs on both sides of his, in nothing but your pink lacy panties. you're admiring the sight infront you, a very evident bulge in jungwon's boxers. crossing both of his arms behind his head. "what's the hold up now baby?" he teases, seeing how your hands were on both sides of your panties to pull it down. pulling your laced panties down just enough, jungwon groaned at the sight seeing it stick to your needy cunt, a string of arousal following the removal. "won' please, i need you in me so bad."

"i'll give you what you want after you ride my thigh hm?" jungwon negotiates, fighting the urge to just pull his boxers down and make you bounce on his dick until you forgot your own name. your head nods rapidly, pulling your panties down to your ankles and kicking it off to somewhere in the room. quickly placing yourself between one of jungwon's muscled thighs. seating your heat against it, rubbing slowly, the immediate friction on your clit making you let out a silent scream.

finding your own pace as you ride jungwon's thigh, feeling the ridge of his muscles as you dragged your needy cunt against it, your small whimpers and moans filling the room, becoming music to jungwon's ears. a satisfied smile wreathed his lips when he sees your eyes on him as you fell apart on his thigh, as he's flexing it occasionally to add on more intensity to your clit.

you could feel your orgasm approaching as your hole clenched around nothing. hands pawing at your boyfriend's shoulders. "wonnie please i need to cum! i'm sorry i teased you—please—!" amusement painted all over jungwon's face seeing how you were so submissive and crumbling at him doing nothing but having you ride his thigh.

"show me pretty girl. cum all over my thigh." the wetness of your arousal coating your boyfriend's thighs, granting your request. your hands tighten the grip on jungwon's shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the knot loosens in your stomach. jungwon's hands move to hold your hips, helping you slow down your movements.

"shit, you are so fucking sexy baby." and he's almost in pain at how long his boner has been held up in his boxers. you now being on your back, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as jungwon grinds his clothed bulge over your exposed needy cunt. you to sit up, attempting reaching your hand to your boyfriend's boxers, failing miserably as jungwon holds both your thighs back, nearly folding you in half, the sight of your glistening heat practically inviting him in.

moving to push your thighs back with one of his hands, jungwon reaches to the nightstand beside his bed, grabbing his phone that was on top of it, opening the camera app before placing it near him on the mattress. "fuck baby, please. i need to record your pretty face taking my cock." he groans, seeing the mess of the wetness that surrounded your cunt.

"yes jungwon! please wanna feel you stretch me out—!" you whine, your own hands replacing jungwon's hand that was pushing your thighs back, exposing yourself bare beneath him. "fuckkkkk." jungwon hisses as he frees himself from his tight boxers, stroking himself slowly and finding eye contact with you. your big doe eyes begging for jungwon to fill you up. he obliges, pushing his thick mushroom tip in, causing you to let out a loud gasp, then bottoming out.

your hands hold your thighs tightly as jungwon stays still for a bit, allowing you to adjust to his size. "m' so full wonnie." you sigh, bucking your hips up with small movements indicating that it was okay for him to move. jungwon pulls out until only his tip is inside you and plunges into you deeply, making you feel every ridge and vein. you let out a string of moans in response, your warm velvety walls pulling jungwon in and tightening around his length. grunting in response as he scrambles to grab his phone. "keep your legs like that, show the camera how well you take my cock in that tight pussy."

you let a moan of jungwon's name when you see the flash of the camera on, the hand that wasn't recording to grab at one your tits. "so big jungwon—!" your words slur as he sets a relentless pace, the camera capturing the sight of his dick disappearing deep into your cunt, the wet sounds and squelches filling the room. your hands find purchase in holding jungwon's big shoulders, admiring the way the muscles on his arms flexed along with the thrusts he gave you.

"thaaat's it, show the camera who make you feel good." giving you a few more harsh strokes before stopping the video and tossing his phone to the side. jungwon curses at the sight of how easily your cunt sucks in his thick length. "so fucking tight baby, shit—! your pussy feels so good!" jungwon groaning as he feels your walls flutter around him. "so so good jungwon! more more more!" you babble, pleasure stinging in every part of your body. and jungwon was pretty much already giving you every you could'vr asked for in bed.

"you close baby?" jungwon asks, speeding his pace to an even more impossible level, hands moving your thighs over his shoulder, the angle making him hit even deeper, a small bulge displaying thru your stomach, making you press against the bulge. "i am—! please fill me wonnie. wanna be full of your cum mmh—!"

"shit cum around me like the good girl you are." jungwon didn't need to even ask twice as you throw your head back against the soft pillows on his bed, walls spasming around his cock as you let loose on your climax, jungwon following quickly after, making sure to milk every drop of his cum into you.

"i probably can't walk properly after this!" you exclaimed as jungwon came back into the room from the bathroom with a warm towel, wiping your now sensitive, spent heat. he laughs in response, "you were so fucking hot in the video, jesus." looking over the video that was recorded on his phone briefly.

"glad i could be of service." you sarcastically salute, eyes half lidded once cleaned up and with one of jungwon's t-shirts over your body. "sorry went a little too hard baby." jungwon kissing the exposed part of your shoulder blade, making you forget about the unfinished card game with heeseung outside, keeping you all to himself. ୨ ୧

#lee writes ! ‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊#jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #enhypen smut #yang jungwon smut #jungwon imagines #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts

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pomefioredove · 2 days

Note

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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macgyvermedical · 2 days

Text

Wound Care For Adults

So the wife was on backpacking reddit and found that a lot of people can't tell the difference between wounds you need some vaseline and a bandaid for, wounds that need a little home TLC, wounds you need to go to an urgent care for, and wounds you actually need to go to the emergency department for, so we're gonna talk about that here.

Wounds that need some vaseline and a bandaid:

A blister that popped

A non-gaping cut

A skinned knee (small amount of fresh, shallow road rash with nothing embedded)

Keep in mind that you should NOT use rubbing alcohol, iodine, mercurochrome, or hydrogen peroxide on any of these. It will just hurt and potentially kill healthy cells in the wound. Neosporin or other antibiotic ointment is okay if you happen to have it, but the antibiotics themselves don't last long and are generally not worth the extra money.

Wash the wound with plain tap water, pat it dry with a clean cloth or piece of gauze, dab on a little petroleum jelly (Vaseline) and slap a bandage on that beby.

Wounds that need some TLC at home:

A small, shallow burn with nothing stuck to it

A slightly infected open blister or non-gaping cut

Slightly infected road rash or shallow road rash with something embedded in it

Cut gaping less than 1/4 inch (1/2 cm)

Small, shallow burn: Right after you get the burn, run it under cool tap water for 5-10 minutes, even if you think it's already cool. This will help clean the wound and stop the burn from getting any deeper. Do not ice. Do not put oil or butter or vaseline on the wound. Use an over the counter burn gel and a bandaid to hold it in place.

Slightly infected small wound/road rash: You'll know it's slightly infected if there's redness and swelling around the edges (up to 2cm), if there is drainage, and if it smells bad. It will also probably hurt more than you think it should. For this you'll want to do hot compresses about 4 times a day for 20 minutes per time until the infection goes away. To do this, get a pot and get water hot enough that it is uncomfortable to touch. Then put a wash cloth in that water, pull it out, wring it out, and hold it against the wound. It should be uncomfortably hot and just a little painful. When it cools down, dip it back in the pot, wring it out, and do it again. At the end of 20 minutes the whole area around the wound should be pink.

Road rash with something embedded: If there's a tiny stone or pieces of visible dirt on this section of road rash, you'll need to clean it with a moderately forceful stream of water. You can do this with an irrigation syringe you can get from the pharmacy, or you can make your own using a plastic zipper bag. Fill a bag with water, then cut a teeny tiny hole in one of the corners. Squeeze the bag to make a stream of water, then direct that stream at the wound. This will take potentially a lot of water. Keep at it until there is nothing visible in the wound, then treat with vaseline and a bandaid.

A cut gaping less than 1/4 inch: If this is on your face, genitals, or hands and you care about scarring, go to an emergency department. If this is on another part of your body and you're okay with a scar, keep reading. Stop bleeding with pressure. Clean the wound by running clean tap water through it and pat the edges dry. Make some butterfly bandages out of strong tape- I recommend silk medical tape, but in a pinch you could use duct tape or similar.

Starting on one end, tape down one side of a butterfly bandage, pull it across the cut, and tape it to the other side. Move a 1/4 inch down the cut, and tape another one down, then another, until you have taped the length of the cut. Put some kind of breathable bandage on top of this.

Wounds that need to go to an urgent care:

Cut gaping more than 1/4 inch but that you can still stop bleeding with pressure.

Open blister, cut, burn, or road rash that is draining thick, yellow-or-white drainage and is not getting better with hot compresses, but you don't have a fever

Stop any bleeding, clean by running water over the injury, and go to an urgent care or your family doctor if you happen to be able to get in for a same-day appointment.

Wounds that need to go to an emergency department:

Any cut that gapes on the face, palm of the hand, or genitals

Infection with streaks or with which you have a fever/chills, or for which the red area grows by more than a cm in an hour

Burn larger than the palm of your hand or that is more than skin deep

Any wound that was spurting blood or that needed a tourniquet to stop bleeding

Go to the emergency department as soon as possible, they'll take care of it.

#whump reference #writing reference #whump #nursing #medical #first aid #wounds #cuts #burns

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svt-luna · 2 days

Note

hi! i really adore each member’s dynamic with luna 🫶 can i request for a chapter where the group’s over protectiveness comes to action when it comes to luna? it can be any member you prefer. thank you!

(pls keep on writing i really love ur blog 🤗)

ᡴꪫ ⋆ All EYES ON HER: SEVENTEEN’S ULTIMATE PROTECTIVE MOMENTS ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: A compilation on the countless times the members have fiercely protected Luna, proving that anyone who messes with her has an entire team to answer to.

hello!! I apologize for taking so long with this request, it took a long time for me to get to it but finally, it’s here now. you didn’t specify what kind I should do, so I decided on a youtube compilation instead, I hope you don’t mind! happy reading, my loves 🤍💛

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ᡣ𐭩

bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩

indented italics are additional voice overs ᡣ𐭩

Ah yes, folks, welcome to this episode of ‘How SEVENTEEN is Basically Luna’s Private Army at This Point.’

I mean, if you didn’t already know, our girl Luna isn’t just the 14th member of SEVENTEEN— no, no, she’s also the epitome of princess treatment.

Miss thing, is protected by her 13 bodyguards… I mean, bandmates.

I cannot stress this enough… the amount of times these guys circle around her like she’s made of glass is honestly a whole genre of content at this point.

You’d think they signed a secret contract that says, ‘Thou shalt not let Luna so much as trip on a pebble or breathe near a stalker without at least five of us nose-diving in front of her.’

I’m starting to think they all have a group chat where their one goal is: ‘Keep Luna safe. At all costs.’ I mean, the devotion is real, people.

Anyway, buckle up because we’re diving into SEVENTEEN’s ultimate protective moments over the years. From stage accidents to creepy fan encounters— these boys do it all. *swoons*

So grab your popcorn, maybe a tissue, and get ready to witness Luna being treated like the literal K-pop princess that she is.

LUNA’S AIRPORT SASAENG INCIDENT

I feel like this video itself just shows you how much the members are super protective of Luna.

On a side note, y’all weirdos really need to leave them the fuck alone

The airport was abuzz with the usual energy that seemed to follow SEVENTEEN everywhere they went. Fans had gathered on the other side of the barricades, screaming, phones flashing, as they tried to capture every moment of the members’ journey to the gate.

It was early— too early for most of the members to be anything but a little groggy. They had a long flight ahead to Seattle for their ‘Be the Sun’ tour concert, and it showed in the occasional yawn, tired smiles, and slow movements as they waited in line to enter their gate.

Luna stood in the middle of the line, nestled between Wonwoo, who was in front of her, and Seungcheol, who lingered protectively behind.

[In just a few seconds you guys would see how Choi Seungcheol became my bias]

[on a side note… look how hot he looks 😩 DADDY!]

Luna was chatting quietly with Wonwoo about the new show she was watching late last night, her voice calm as she ran through the reason why she got zero sleep.

Everything felt routine.

The members bowed and waved occasionally to the fans and cameras across the barricades, but it was all in the usual ebb and flow of their lives on tour. There was nothing unusual about the morning, just the soft hum of their conversations and the distant screams of their loyal Carats.

[I love how they still try their best to greet Carats despite being so tired 🥹]

And then it happened.

In the middle of her sentence, Luna was cut off by the sound of a man’s voice— a deep, rough yell from somewhere beyond the barricade. He was shouting her name, which wasn’t entirely strange. Fans often called out to her, but there was something different in the way this man shouted. It wasn’t the excited, breathless tone of a fan. It was urgent, desperate, and far too aggressive.

[guys I’m being so fr rn, this clip till this day pisses me the fuck off]

Before Luna or anyone else could process what was happening, there was a sudden movement from their side.

Out of nowhere, the man broke past security and somehow made it too close, far closer than any fan should’ve been allowed. He wasn’t behind the barricades anymore— he was there, within arm’s reach of the members.

[LOOK AT THIS FUCKING BUM]

[If I see him istg it’s on sight]

[I didn’t bother blurring his face cause… why should I?!]

The air around them shifted, the fans behind the barricades screaming in shock, but it was too late. Luna didn’t have time to turn and see him before she felt it.

A tight grip suddenly clamped down on her right arm.

It was jarring, a harsh pull that yanked her back, shocking her out of the moment. The man— eyes wild and frantic— was tugging her towards him, shouting about how much he loved her. “Luna, Jiyeon-ah! You don’t understand, I love you! I’m in love with you! I need you to know! I’m obsessed with you!”

[yeah we can tell, loser]

Luna’s breath hitched in her throat. The world around her blurred as the fans screamed louder, their voices tinged with panic. For a split second, her brain froze, and she couldn’t fully process what was happening. The man’s hand was too tight, too rough, and before she could pull away, she felt herself being dragged towards him.

[look at her face, motherfucker! look at how scared she looks]

[TWICE HER SIZE AND HE FUCKING YANKS HER]

But then, in an instant, everything shifted again.

Before Luna could even react, she felt a firm grip around her waist— a strong, grounding force pulling her back from the man’s grasp.

[IT’S THE SPEED!! IT WAS THE WAY HE REACTED!!]

[CHEOLIE’S REFLEXES ARE NEXT LEVEL]

[🫠🫠🫠]

Seungcheol, who had been just behind her, moved like a flash, his expression steely as his arm looped securely around her. His fingers pressed tightly against her waist, holding her in place, but his other hand wasn’t idle. With a swift, practiced motion, Seungcheol reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, yanking it away from Luna with more strength than the man had anticipated.

“Let go.” Seungcheol’s voice was firm, sharp with authority but calm, almost dangerously calm, as he shoved the man’s hand off her with little effort.

[GOODBYE WORLD]

[I– no words… there are no words]

[Honestly, if I were that sasaeng, I’d just tell my heart to stop right then and there]

[Choi Seungcheol is scary wbk]

At the same time, Wonwoo had spun around, his eyes dark with alarm. His hand immediately found Luna’s, grasping her left hand firmly as he pulled her back to safety, away from the chaos. The sudden switch from casual conversation to this whirlwind of confusion sent a surge of adrenaline through him. His usually stoic face was a mixture of concern and anger as he held Luna’s hand tighter, making sure she wasn’t being pulled any further.

[brb I’m gonna cry]

[Wonwoo was holding onto her for dear life]

The sasaeng stumbled backward as Seungcheol released him, but it wasn’t over yet.

The moment Seungcheol tore the man’s hand off Luna’s arm, the rest of the members immediately closed in, surrounding her like a protective shield.

[They look so worried 🥺]

[Jiyeon is so loved]

Security finally rushed in, grabbing the man and pulling him away from the members, the fans still screaming in horror and disbelief at what had just unfolded.

[Also what took y’all so fucking long 😠]

Seungcheol barely had time to check her well-being before he was pushed back into action, taking control of the situation as the leader.

As the fans continued to scream in both shock and confusion, Jeonghan was by Luna’s side in an instant, his face painted with worry. His hand hovered near her shoulder as he looked her over, asking softly, “Are you okay?” before Mingyu stepped up beside him, eyes scanning her for any sign of distress.

“I’m okay,” Luna nodded as she shook caressed the now red flesh of her right arm.

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A RAHHHH]

The members formed a tight circle around her, creating a barrier between Luna and the crowd as they took turns asking her if she was alright. Jeonghan, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Dino, Wonwoo, and Dokyeom stood close, their faces unusually serious, while Minghao, Joshua, and Vernon kept a vigilant eye on the situation, making sure no one else could get close. Even Woozi, Jun, and Hoshi, who had been half-asleep just moments ago, were now alert and focused, standing protectively near her.

[they baracaded her real fast]

[THIS IS HOW THE SECRET SERVICE REACTS WHEN THERE IS A THREAT TO THE FUCKING PRESIDENT]

[WE LOVE TO SEE IT]

Luna, is still in shock. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened. The touch of the man’s rough hand still lingered on her skin, but the warmth and safety of her members anchored her in the present, pulling her out of the chaos and fear.

Meanwhile, off to the side, fans caught a glimpse of Seungcheol in full leader mode, visibly angry as he appeared to scold their security team.

[HE IS SO FUCKING HOT FOR THIS 🥵]

[THIS👏 MAN 👏 DOESN’T 👏 PLAY 👏 WHEN 👏 IT 👏 COMES 👏 TO 👏 HIS 👏 MEMBERS]

Seungcheol’s body language was sharp and commanding, hands gesturing firmly as he instructed them on how to handle the situation. No one could hear exactly what he was saying, but it was clear from his tone and expression that he was furious. His jaw clenched, his eyes steely, he pointed toward the barricades and the area where the man had broken through, making sure there would be no more mistakes.

[blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name…]

[What I’d give to hear what he’s saying rn]

Fans watching from the other side couldn’t help but be struck by how protective and authoritative he was, silently appreciating the way SEVENTEEN took care of their own.

Once all that was taken care of, Seungcheol finally turned back and glanced down at Luna, his voice now softer but still firm. “You okay?” His eyes scanned her for any signs of distress or injury as he gently caressed her arm, his brows furrowed with concern.

[WHERE DO YOU GET A MAN LIKE THIS?!]

[I’m in love with him it’s not funny anymore 😔]

Luna nodded slowly, though her heart was still racing. “I’m okay, Cheolie… thank you,” she managed to whisper, her voice shaky but steadying.

“Thank you, Wonwoo oppa,” Luna turned to the man next to her who gave her a silent not, clearly still disturbed.

But Seungcheol wasn’t fully convinced she was fine… none of the members did. They could tell from how she twisted the rings on her fingers.

Seungcheol placed his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close as they moved forward, ensuring she was safe and that the man was well out of reach. Meanwhile, the rest of the members hovered around her. Jeonghan was beside her, now holding her hand, his grip tight and his presence still solid and reassuring.

[HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE JEONGNA]

[the way Cheol and Han kept holding her till they entered their gate 🥹]

The fans, who had just witnessed the entire event, were still in a state of shock, but now their screams had shifted. Instead of panic, there were chants of Luna’s name, filled with concern and admiration for how the members especially Seungcheol and Wonwoo had handled the situation.

It was only then, as the adrenaline began to fade, that Luna realized just how much she had been relying on them. Without them, without their quick thinking and protective instincts, she didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened.

‘FEAR’ WARDROBE MALFUNCTION IN JAPAN

The concert in Japan was in full swing, the arena lights flashing to the heavy beat of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Fear’ as they performed for thousands of cheering fans.

[Another one of my favorite clips, ladies and gentlemen]

The energy in the air was electric, the members synchronized perfectly with their intense choreography and sharp vocals. Luna was in the center of the stage, dressed in a sleek black attire that matched the rest of the members— black leather pants that accentuated her legs accompanied by a black sleeveless top with a zipper running down the back.

[MOM LOOKS HOT BTW 🥵]

The moment was flawless— until it wasn’t.

In the midst of a spin, as she did the choreography with the rest of the members, Luna felt the distinct sensation of her zipper giving way.

A chill ran down her spine as the entire back of her top unzipped, fully exposing her skin. Her black top was now hanging loose, barely held together by the fabric at the front.

But Luna, ever the professional, didn’t miss a beat. Her face remained fierce and intense, completely matching the dark, brooding mood of the song. Not a flicker of panic crossed her expression as she continued to sing, her voice steady, her movements sharp. Her body flowed with the choreography as if nothing was wrong, even though her mind was racing.

[her top was literally hanging by a thread]

[I don’t know how she does it. I would have panicked]

[It’s a good thing the zipper was at her back 🫥]

Some of the members noticed almost immediately. Being behind her in the formation, they had a clear view of her exposed back. Hoshi, who was a few steps to the side, caught a glimpse of her loose top during a turn, his eyes widening slightly in realization— however, he was a few steps too far to do anything about it.

Just as they transitioned to another part of the routine, Luna shifted her glance to the side and locked eyes with Dokyeom, who was right behind her. His eyes were filled with concern, his expression subtle but clear— her back was fully exposed, and they needed to fix it.

Luna, ever so composed, gave him a single, almost imperceptible nod. The kind of nod only someone who knew her well could catch. It was all she needed to convey her understanding.

[Again, it amazes me how fast they pulled this off]

[it took me like five times to understand how DK did it]

[Watch Dokyeomie closely]

Dokyeom, without hesitation, stepped into action while maintaining the choreography flawlessly. As they moved through the next steps, their bodies swayed and spun in perfect sync with the music, but every move was calculated.

Luna, still dancing and keeping her facial expression strong, swept her long hair from the back to the front in one fluid motion, letting it cascade over her shoulder. She exposed her bare back fully to Dokyeom, who was quick to react.

[HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵]

[maybe that’s why it’s so hard to catch DK zipping her up… Jiyeonie is too distracting]

With the precision and speed that only a professional dancer could pull off, Dokyeom zipped up the back of her top as if it were part of the routine. His fingers worked fast, pulling the zipper up in one smooth, swift motion while simultaneously stepping to the side, his feet moving in perfect time with the beat.

To any fan watching from the crowd, it would have looked like just another part of the choreography, so seamless was their execution. Luna barely flinched, continuing to sing with full power, her movements never faltering as she danced across the stage. The members around them barely blinked; they had seen what happened and knew the situation was under control.

[LIKE— WHAT?!]

[one minute her back was fully exposed and the next no skin at all!!?]

[THAT’S TALENT RIGHT THERE 👏👏👏]

The arena was still filled with flashing lights and screaming fans, but among them, some of the more eagle-eyed fans caught the moment on their phones. Every angle of the stage showed Dokyeom's swift actions and Luna's incredible poise. Twitter was already lighting up with comments about how professional they were.

As the final chorus hit, Luna and Dokyeom made eye contact once more. Luna, still keeping in character, mouthed a soft, “Thank you,” barely visible to the cameras, but enough for Dokyeom to see. He gave her a quick wink and a nod, his lips curling up into a small, reassuring smile before they both turned their attention back to the performance, moving seamlessly into the final formation.

[I want to be so good at something that I am this casual on stage]

From that point forward, no one would have guessed anything had gone wrong. The performance continued flawlessly, but fans watching from the crowd and at home couldn't help but be amazed at how fast and professional they both were. It was a moment of pure teamwork, a quiet display of trust and coordination between members that reminded everyone just how close SEVENTEEN really was—onstage and off.

THE BLANKET BLOCK ™

Now, let me introduce to you ‘The Infamous Blocks’. There are three in total— ‘The Blanket’, ‘The Body’, and ‘The Bear’. I might sound like I am joking but I’m being so serious…

Lets start with the ‘Blanket Block’

The night was electric with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation as fans lined the barricades of the red carpet at MAMA 2017 in Japan. The event was one of the most awaited of the year, and the energy surrounding the venue was palpable. Cameras flashed wildly, fans screamed with glee, and a sea of lightsticks waved as the SEVENTEEN van rolled to a slow stop at the edge of the carpet. The sleek black vehicle gleamed under the lights as if announcing the arrival of something grand. One by one, the members began to step out.

First came S.Coups, stepping confidently onto the red carpet, his sharp black suit catching the light just right. The fans erupted in cheers, phones already out and recording as each member made their way down the line. Mingyu followed, waving briefly to the crowd, and then Seungkwan, whose grin brightened as he acknowledged the fans’ excitement. Each member received their share of attention, but it wasn’t just for the boys the crowd was waiting.

[they looked too good to be true this night]

Inside the van, Luna sat, fixing her dress, her hands smoothing over the soft fabric nervously. She knew the moment she stepped out, all eyes would be on her. But more than the eyes, it was the cameras. The predatory gleam of lenses ready to snap her from every angle made her feel vulnerable, and exposed. Tonight, she was wearing an elegant, sleek black dress— classy but form-fitting— and she knew the moment she stepped out, the cameras wouldn’t be kind if they caught anything inappropriate.

Jeonghan, who had just stepped out of the van, paused at the door and leaned back inside. His pink hair gleamed under the overhead lights, but his gaze was focused entirely on Luna, not the crowd.

He noticed her slight hesitation and saw the way her hands twitched with uncertainty as she adjusted her dress. He leaned in closer, his voice soft and comforting, though the words were lost to the flashing lights and the fans’ endless chants. Whatever he said, it calmed her enough for her to take a deep breath and prepare to step out.

[I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE SAID TO HER]

[I’m desperate, please]

But before she could fully exit the van, Jeonghan reached inside and swiftly grabbed a dark blanket that had been folded near the seats. With a smooth, practiced motion, he unfolded it and held it open in front of the door, shielding Luna from the prying eyes and flashing cameras that would’ve otherwise had a clear view of her legs and dress as she maneuvered out of the car.

[GOODBYE WORLD PT. 2]

[YOON JEONGHAN IS THE STANDARD]

He didn’t rush her, didn’t make a big deal of it; his movements were calm, unbothered as if this were second nature to him. The blanket draped in his hands, blocking the lower part of her from view.

[I WANT HIM]

[LORD HE’S PERFECT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE]

Luna, catching the gesture, couldn’t help but feel a wave of warmth and gratitude. Her face softened as she adjusted her dress under the cover of the blanket. She took a moment to gather herself, making sure every inch of fabric was in place, every crease smoothed out.

She met Jeonghan’s eyes for a brief second, and the silent exchange between them said more than words could have. A nod of reassurance. A small, grateful smile.

[she just swooned… don’t at me]

Jeonghan, still holding the blanket like a shield, waited for her signal. Only when Luna gave him the okay— a subtle but confident nod— did he let the blanket drop.

[HE– I– can’t. I need him in my life]

In a smooth motion, he tossed it back inside the van and extended his hand to her. Luna stepped out gracefully, her confidence restored as her feet touched the ground. The cameras immediately went into overdrive, capturing every inch of her, but Jeonghan remained beside her, his hand still on hers, helping her as they moved forward together.

[MOM AND DAD ARE SO FUCKING HOT]

[CAN I BE THE THIRD IN THIS RELATIONSHIP?!]

[please, I’m begging… I can be a pet… I can bark]

The cheers from the crowd doubled as Luna appeared. The fans, who had been screaming the members’ names, now turned their attention to the only female member of SEVENTEEN, and the energy shifted.

But Jeonghan never let go of her hand, guiding her with a quiet but firm presence. He knew how these events worked, how easily one wrong angle could lead to unnecessary scrutiny. And so, even as they posed together on the red carpet, his body was angled ever so slightly in her favor, offering her the subtle kind of protection that no one would notice but her.

[😩😩😩😩]

[look at them]

The fans closest to the barricades noticed it, though. They had seen the entire interaction, from the way Jeonghan covered her with the blanket to the way he never once let her fend for herself. And it didn’t go unnoticed how he tossed the blanket away only once he was certain she was completely comfortable. Luna's smile was as radiant as ever, but beneath it was the comfort of knowing that, even in a sea of flashing lights and camera lenses, someone always had her back.

[ICONIC. SIMPLY ICONIC.]

[one of the most iconic Jeongna moments]

THE BODY BLOCK ™

Next is my favorite out of the three… the ‘Body Block’

The night sky over Seoul was illuminated by the flashing lights of countless cameras, the red carpet stretching out like a sea of glamour and anticipation. It was the Cartier event of 2022, an evening that promised to bring together the city's most elegant and well-known figures.

Among them were Luna and Mingyu, two of Cartier’s most prominent models and brand ambassadors. Their presence alone was enough to send a ripple of excitement through the crowd, but the fact that they both wore red, in perfectly coordinated outfits, had the press buzzing.

[RED IS THEIR COLOR]

[I’m sorry– they looks so hot and intimidating]

Luna stepped out first, her heels clicking softly against the smooth surface of the red carpet. She was the embodiment of grace, her tall, slender frame draped in a stunning, floor-length red dress.

The dress was an exquisite piece— a bold, deep crimson that shimmered under the camera lights. It was strapless on one side, while the other featured a delicate, thin strap that wrapped over her shoulder, highlighting the gentle curve of her collarbone. The material clung to her figure in all the right ways, its fabric flowing down to her feet like liquid silk, pooling elegantly around her ankles. A daring slit along one side revealed a hint of her leg as she moved, but it was done tastefully, maintaining an air of sophistication and class.

[I WAS DROOLING WHEN I SAW HER]

[she doesn’t look real 😭]

[like– I’m convinced she’s a hologram]

Mingyu followed closely behind her, equally striking in his tailored red suit. The suit jacket was perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders, the crimson fabric complementing the sharp black of his shirt underneath.

[DOUBLE KILL]

[I AM SORRY— sir?!]

[I am loyal to Seungcheol… am I?]

Together, they made a captivating pair, their outfits harmonizing in a way that felt almost intentional, like they were meant to stand side by side on this particular night.

As they posed for the cameras, the flashes were relentless, a barrage of light capturing their every move. Luna stood tall, her chin slightly raised, one hand placed elegantly on her hip while her other arm hung loosely at her side. Beside her, Mingyu struck his own pose, the definition of cool confidence, his dark eyes locking with the cameras as they both stood center stage, an image of luxury and refinement.

[They’d be so hot together… I didn’t say that 😀]

And then it happened— so quickly that it could have been missed by anyone not paying attention. As Luna shifted her weight, turning her body slightly to change her angle, one of the thin straps of her dress slipped from her shoulder. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable at first, but as the strap fell, it revealed the bare skin of her shoulder.

[EVEN HER SHOULDER LOOKS PRETTIER THAN ME]

[DOES THAT MAKE SENSE!??]

Luna’s eyes flickered downward for a moment, a small crease of surprise appearing on her otherwise composed face.

Without missing a beat, she calmly reached up and tugged the strap back into place, her fingers grazing the cool fabric as she pulled it back over her shoulder. Her expression remained neutral, her movements composed— professional, as always. But Mingyu had seen it. The moment the strap fell, his attention snapped to her, eyes narrowing with concern for a fraction of a second.

[I’m convince every single member has spidey senses when it comes to her]

In a split-second decision, Mingyu moved. He stepped directly in front of Luna, his tall frame blocking her from the cameras with an easy, natural movement. His back was now facing the cameras, shielding her from their view as she adjusted the strap. His broad shoulders and the crimson jacket became a makeshift curtain, offering her privacy in an instant.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[LORD IT’S ME AGAIN]

[JEHUENDUWGYWGEJIWUDGUWBWKAIYWGUWB]

Luna looked up at him, her fingers still smoothing over the strap of her dress as she finished fixing it. Their eyes met, and for a moment, no words were needed. A small, appreciative smile touched her lips, her eyes softening as she gave him a simple nod of thanks.

Mingyu, always effortlessly cool, returned the gesture with a brief smile of his own, his eyes flickering with a silent understanding. Then, just as smoothly as he had positioned himself in front of her, he moved back to his original spot, turning to face the cameras once more, as if nothing had happened.

[THEY ALWAYS MAKE SURE SHE’S READY BEFORE THEY FUCKING STOP 🥹]

[they are so obedient too]

The photographers continued their frenzy, completely unaware of the quiet, protective exchange that had just taken place between the two. To them, it had been a seamless transition— nothing out of the ordinary. But to those paying close attention, the subtle moment of protection from Mingyu was not only graceful but instinctual, a sign of the quiet care he had for Luna, his fellow ambassador, and friend.

Together, they resumed their poses, their red outfits glowing under the lights, and once again, they became the perfect image of poise and elegance. But those who knew— who saw the quick flash of concern in Mingyu’s eyes and the gratitude in Luna’s smile— recognized the deeper connection between them, one that went beyond their roles on the red carpet.

The event continued, but that brief moment lingered, caught by the lucky fans who were watching closely enough to see the exchange, a testament to the unspoken bond shared by the two.

THE BEAR BLOCK ™

And finally, the ‘Bear Block’

The soft glow of the hotel room’s ambient lighting bathed the cozy space in a warm hue as Minghao and Luna sat side by side on the edge of her bed, engaging with fans in their casual Weverse live. Luna’s hotel room was comfortably minimalistic—soft cream-colored walls, sleek furniture, and the faint scent of lavender wafting through the air from a diffuser on the nightstand. Behind them, a plush teddy bear sat tucked into the pillows, a gift Luna had received from a fan earlier that day, its little beady eyes gleaming under the camera's light.

[IT’S THE OTHER SET OF TWINS OF SEVENTEEN]

[the 97 line twins]

It was a typical live stream for the two— comfortable and relaxed. Luna, in her soft oversized hoodie, was leaning back against the bedpost while Minghao, dressed in his usual stylish yet casual attire, lounged next to her. Their conversation flowed naturally as they laughed and answered fans’ questions. Minghao would occasionally break into Chinese, his voice smooth as he spoke in his mother tongue, and Luna, always eager to learn, would repeat his phrases with childlike excitement, though her pronunciation was less polished.

[they are so cute 🥺]

[I love this duo so much]

Minghao chuckled each time she got it wrong, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “No, no, like this,” he’d say, gently correcting her, the fondness in his tone unmistakable. He would then patiently translate the meaning into Korean for her and their fans, smiling as Luna exaggeratedly repeated the words again, determined to get it right.

[I am so soft for them]

The chat was buzzing with messages, and the number of viewers kept rising steadily as more fans joined in, thrilled by the duo’s easy-going dynamic. Luna, always full of energy, glanced at the screen, her sharp eyes catching one of the rapid comments. She leaned forward to get a better look, her long hair cascading down one side of her face as she brought her face closer to her phone.

"Wait, what does this say—" Luna began, her voice trailing off mid-sentence. Just as she was about to read the comment aloud, Minghao, who had been fiddling with the teddy bear on the bed, made a swift movement. In a fraction of a second, without a word, he gently but firmly pressed the soft bear against her chest, covering her entirely from view.

[this cracked me up 😂]

[the fact the Hao just shoved the bear in front of her was just hilarious]

Luna froze for a heartbeat, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized what had just happened. Her body had leaned forward just a little too far, and in her oversized hoodie, there had been a chance she might have inadvertently revealed something on camera that wasn’t meant to be seen. Minghao, with his ever-watchful eye and sharp instincts, had noticed it instantly.

[Hao really said: “not on my watch.” 🧸]

Her breath hitched for a moment as she glanced at him, her face a mix of shock and silent gratitude. Minghao, his expression calm and collected, simply nodded at her in a way that conveyed everything without words. He didn’t make a big deal of it; his actions were smooth and almost invisible to the casual observer. His nod was one of quiet understanding, a signal that she didn’t need to worry— he had her back.

[He’s also so fucking hot, lawd]

Luna’s heart swelled with appreciation, but she played it cool. With a soft exhale, she shot him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she muttered under her breath, barely audible but enough for Minghao to hear.

He gave a subtle smile in return, his eyes crinkling slightly as he continued to idly hold the bear in place, casually moving it as though it were part of their lighthearted banter.

Luna straightened back up, her posture relaxed once more, and resumed the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Luna’s smile returned as she read through more comments, her face as calm and composed as ever, a professional through and through.

[CUTIESSSSSS 💕💕💕]

They continued answering fan questions as the live stretched on, but the silent gesture lingered in the air like an unspoken promise— proof that, no matter what, Minghao was always watching out for her, and Luna was never truly alone.

LUNA’S TRAINEE STORY IN GAME CATERERS 1-2

“It says here that you are known to cause fights.” PD Na said.

[THIS ENTIRE STORY RIGHT HERE]

The sudden statement caught everyone off guard. The members burst into laughter while Luna sat there, shocked and confused, unsure of how to respond.

“Me?” she asked, pointing to herself, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Fights? Where did you hear that?” She laughed, still trying to process the unexpected accusation.

[She’s just that bitch. She didn’t even know]

PD Na pointed at his paper, a teasing grin on his face. “We did our research. It says here that you caused a lot of fights when you were a trainee.”

A chorus of agreements erupted from the members, with many of them pointing at her and Jeonghan, nodding vigorously.

“That’s right!”

“He’s right!” they echoed, their voices overlapping as they teased her.

"This is amazing," Dokyeom laughed harder.

“What?” Luna turned to look at her members, her confusion deepening as she tried to piece together what they were talking about. "Huh? What are you guys talking about?"

Then her eyes landed on Jeonghan who was already watching her, and it all clicked. The realization dawned on her face, her expression shifting from confusion to understanding, and then to amusement. “Ah,” she laughed, finally catching on.

[SHE TOOK ONE LOOK AT JEONGHAN AND KNEW EXACTLY WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT]

Jeonghan, always the instigator, just grinned back at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

[he’s proud too]

As the memory clicked into place, Luna laughed harder, her laughter bubbling over as she covered her mouth with her hands. “This is amazing,” she marveled, still giggling. “How did you guys find out about that? I had completely forgotten about it.”

PD Na watched her with amusement, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell us about it?” he asked, clearly intrigued.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan, who nodded in agreement, his smile knowing. She turned back to the group, preparing to recount the story. “It was when I was a trainee, and I was new at ‘PLEDIS’. This happened about five months after I joined,” Luna began, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. “This one time, I just had the hardest day. The training was intense, I was sick at that time as well, and I remember stressing over my exams because I was still in school.”

Everyone listened carefully, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Her members, who knew the story well, giggled quietly, already anticipating where it was headed.

Luna continued, “I hadn’t eaten the entire day. I came to the practice room, and I had an apple. Then, one of the trainees came over, and he was teasing me.”

She paused, mimicking the boy’s actions by raising her hand as if holding something up high. “He took my apple, raised it up, and teased me to take it. He kept doing it and wouldn't give it to me up to the point that I just started crying,” Luna admitted, laughing at the memory of her younger, more vulnerable self.

“Aww,” the members and producers chorused, a mixture of sympathy and amusement in their voices.

[THEY ARE SO SOFT FOR HER WTF 🥺]

Luna pressed on, “Then, all of a sudden, Jeonghannie oppa came in.” She placed her hand on Jeonghan’s leg, and though he made no move, he continued listening to her, his smirk growing as he anticipated the end of the story. “He saw me crying, took one look at the apple, and then he went…”

Luna mimicked Jeonghan’s deep, angry voice and stern expression, saying, “‘Give it back'.”

The room exploded into shrieks. The members erupted in howls and laughter, some leaping out of their seats, while others covered their mouths in teasing disbelief. The laughter was contagious, filling the room. Luna and Jeonghan remained seated next to each other, smiling as the room buzzed with the chaotic energy of their shared memories.

[only same reaction]

As the laughter in the room finally began to die down, Luna continued the story, still smiling. “The trainee still wouldn’t give it back and thought Hannie oppa was joking with him,” she said, recalling the moment. “Then he went, ‘I said give it back,’ but the trainee just laughed at him. Oppa was one of the oldest, so it was a bit disrespectful…”

PD Na, fully invested in the story, leaned in slightly. “Then… what did he do?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Jeonghan, his voice calm and deep, answered this time, his eyes still carrying that signature droopy look as he smirked lazily. “I cursed him out.”

The casual delivery of his words contrasted with the intensity of the moment, making the members erupt into a chorus of teasing.

"Ooh, he cursed!"

"He really cursed him out!"

"He cursed!" they repeated, pointing at Jeonghan and laughing even harder.

Luna nodded, trying to keep a straight face, before wrapping up the story. "Then after that, we left, and he bought me food."

[out of all the things PLEDIS could’ve fucking released in that training room it could have been this!]

Before PD Na could reply, Seungkwan jumped in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There was also this one time. Maybe a year after that incident."

PD Na raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "There's another one?"

Luna, confused, turned to look at Seungkwan, who was seated behind her. "What else is there?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

[SHE’S LOST]

"It happened a year before we debuted," Seungkwan leaned forward, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. "Noona is beautiful. She's really beautiful. Even back then when she was younger, she hasn't changed at all. Not once. She looks the exact same. The only thing that changed is her height." He emphasized each word to PD Na, while Luna listened quietly, her members nodding in agreement.

[I AGREE]

"She was an extremely popular trainee," Seungkwan continued. "A lot of boys liked her."

[SAME]

With that, a chorus of agreements spilled from the mouths of the members. "That's true," Mingyu said, nodding along with the others.

[GOOD. SO WE ALL AGREE.]

"There was a time when two trainees were literally arguing about her because they both liked her, and they decided to talk to her about it and make her decide," Seungkwan added, glancing over at Luna with a grin.

"I remember this," S.Coups chuckled, his eyes lighting up with the memory.

Luna’s eyes widened as she finally recalled the story. "Oh, right! Once they saw me, they started arguing in front of me," she nodded, using her hands to illustrate the scene.

[She explained that as if it’s the most normal thing in the world]

"Right. They were literally fighting in front of her," Seungkwan affirmed. "The members present tried to make them stop, but one thing led to another, and they both grabbed Luna by each hand," Seungkwan demonstrated the movement, grabbing Wonwoo’s arm to illustrate the point.

[WHAT I WOULD DO TO SEE THIS]

"Jeonghan… He was the angriest I've ever seen him in my life," Seungkwan said, raising his hand as if swearing to the truth.

[WHAT I WOULD DO TO SEE THIS PT. 2]

Seungkwan then stood up, pulling Wonwoo to his feet to act out the scene. "Jeonghan went up to them and just…" He mimicked Jeonghan’s aggressive stance, facing Wonwoo head-on, his expression fierce.

"Jeonghan had really long hair back then, so it was swaying like this," Seungkwan added, shaking his head from side to side, imitating the way Jeonghan’s hair had moved during the confrontation. "'Let go,'" he said in a deep, angry voice, perfectly mimicking Jeonghan.

[ANGRY JEONGHAN + LONG-HAIRED JEONGHAN = 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Another chorus of amused, teasing "Oohs" erupted from the members, while Luna sat laughing, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

S.Coups, still seated, shook his head with a grin. "I had to get him off. It was the first time I saw Jeonghan angry as well," he confessed, looking at Jeonghan with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

[good lord. PLEDIS RELEASE THE FOOTAGE NOW. I KNOW YOU HAVE IT THERE SOMEWHERE]

PD Na directed his attention to Jeonghan, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile. "It seems like you're involved in a lot of these stories."

[He knows what’s up]

Before Jeonghan could respond, Dokyeom cut in with a knowing grin. "Jeonghan is the most protective of Luna."

[I BEG TO DIFFER BUT ACCURATE]

Luna quickly interjected, shaking her head with a smile. "No, it’s because he was the first person I became friends with when I joined. He was the person I was most comfortable with."

[🥹🥹🥹]

Jeonghan finally spoke up, his tone nonchalant as if the answer was obvious. "How else am I supposed to react during that situation?"

[right. right. right.]

Hoshi chimed in, nodding in agreement. "He’s cool."

"Very cool," Minghao said.

[He’s hot too]

Seungkwan, ever the dramatic one, couldn’t resist adding his flair. "I swear it was like a drama," he said, his voice filled with exaggerated emotion. "It was like you could hear the song play… 'Almost Paradise'…'" He sang the familiar tune, sending the room into another round of laughter.

[YESSSSSSSSSS]

PD Na, still chuckling, looked back at Jeonghan and Luna. "It’s because she’s your best friend. You two are the closest."

Both Luna and Jeonghan nodded, confirming the bond they shared.

"She's like your younger sister," PD Na added thoughtfully.

[sure]

Jeonghan, who had been nodding in agreement, suddenly faltered. "N– y–yes," he stuttered, quickly changing his answer.

[HE AINT SLICK AT ALL]

The subtle exchange of looks between Jeonghan and Luna that followed didn’t go unnoticed. Jeonghan's eyes lingered on her for just a moment, while Luna remained composed, though there was a fleeting glint of something unspoken in her eyes. It was a small, almost imperceptible moment, but the hesitation in Jeonghan’s response added a strange tension to the room that only the members noticed and understood as if there was more to the story than they were letting on.

[CALL ME INSANE BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE]

[THE MEMBERS KNOW TOO]

PD Na, oblivious to the undercurrent, chuckled again. "I never thought you would be the type of person to fight," he remarked to Jeonghan, amused by the contrast between his usual calm demeanor and the stories being told.

The room burst into laughter again, and in perfect sync, both Luna and Jeonghan replied, "You’d think."

[GOD I LOVE THEM]

LUNA’S ALMOST FACE-PLANTING OFF THE STAGE

It was the encore stage of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Be The Sun’ concert in Los Angeles, the never-ending loop of ‘Very Nice’ ringing through the arena as the crowd screamed and chanted along. The energy was electric, and all fourteen members were spread across the stage, bouncing with uncontainable excitement.

[it’s always this song btw]

[shit always happens during this never-ending song]

They’d already run through what seemed like a dozen rounds of the song, yet the adrenaline kept them going, fueled by the roars of the fans.

Luna, like the rest, was in high spirits, hopping from side to side, her voice blending with the sea of cheers as she waved down to the fans in the pit.

[SPIT ON ME– w-what?!]

She had found herself at the very edge of the stage, close enough that she could see the eager faces reaching up toward her, arms outstretched and phones recording every moment. Luna smiled and waved, her fingers making heart signs as she interacted with the fans who screamed her name in delight.

[She’s adorable and hot at the same time]

[like– how does one achieve that skill]

Her hair was slightly damp from all the jumping, and she pushed it out of her face, not noticing the sheen of water accumulating by her feet. The other members had been throwing water bottles into the crowd moments earlier, and the puddles left behind were nearly invisible under the bright concert lights.

In the heat of the moment, Luna took a step forward, her foot catching the slick surface beneath her. Her sneakers slid out from under her, and for a brief, terrifying second, her body lurched forward, dangerously close to toppling off the stage. Her balance was gone, the crowd gasping in unison as they watched her stumble.

[SHE LITERALLY WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO SEEING JESUS]

But before gravity could pull her down, two pairs of hands shot out— firm and fast. Dino, who had been dancing nearby, immediately grabbed her left arm with a firm grip, his reflexes kicking in as he sensed her falling. At the same moment, Vernon, who had been casually walking past on her right, caught her other arm, his hands locking around her elbow with precision. Together, the two maknaes stabilized her, each holding on tightly as she regained her footing.

[THEY BOTH LOOKED EQUALLY TERRIFIED]

[Someone bubble wrap Jiyeonie I’m so serious]

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The three of them stood frozen, catching their breaths as the arena’s lights flashed around them.

[the way the three of them just froze]

Luna’s heart raced as she realized how close she had been to a disastrous fall, right in front of thousands of fans. She turned to look at Dino and Vernon, their hands still gripping her arms firmly. Their faces mirrored a mixture of concern and relief, and they exchanged a silent understanding in that brief, weighty second.

Luna, her chest heaving, mouthed the words, “Thank you… I almost died,” her eyes wide with mock dramatization.

Her words, though lost in the chaos of the concert, were picked up by eagle-eyed fans close enough to lip-read the exchange. Dino let out a relieved laugh, his lips quirking into a smile, while Vernon gave a subtle nod, eyes flicking toward her with a smirk, as if to say, “Yup, you almost died.”

In the span of a heartbeat, the moment passed. Dino and Vernon released their hold as she straightened herself, shaking off the near-incident. Luna turned back to the audience with a bright grin, as if nothing had happened, raising her arms and encouraging the crowd to scream even louder.

[SHE’S SO UNSERIOUS 😂]

The fans, unaware of just how close she’d been to falling, cheered even harder, oblivious to the small protective moment that had unfolded before their eyes.

As the three continued dancing, the members spread back out across the stage, the concert’s rhythm never missing a beat.

THIS LIVE THAT MAKES MY BLOOD BOIL

Hoshi’s live had started like any other, full of laughter, easy conversation, and the familiar warmth of interacting with fans. As he sat in front of the camera, casually talking about everything from the group’s upcoming schedules to his favorite food that day, the comments section filled with excitement, fans from all over the world typing out their love and admiration for SEVENTEEN's energetic tiger.

[AH YES, ANOTHER CLIP THAT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF]

But then, the live took an unexpected turn as both Joshua and Luna suddenly appeared on screen. Joshua casually strolled into the room, his ever-present smile lighting up his face as he greeted the viewers. “Hey, everyone!” he said, settling down beside Hoshi.

Luna followed quietly, a soft, polite wave to the camera as she sat next to Joshua. Her presence, while usually met with joy from fans, always came with its fair share of negativity as well, something she’d long since come to terms with as the only female member of SEVENTEEN.

At first, the chat exploded with excitement.

“OMG Joshua!!”

“YAY, Jiyeonie is here too!!”

“Look at these visuals!!!”

But quickly, as always, the tide began to shift. Hidden between the floods of hearts and cheers, darker comments started appearing.

They always did.

“Why is she even here?”

“We only wanted Joshua and Hoshi, not her.”

“She ruins it as always.”

“Please leave, no one wants to see you.”

Luna sat quietly, her eyes flickering over the comments, her usual smile frozen on her face. She had grown used to this, a side effect of being the only girl in a thirteen-member male-dominated group.

[YOU MOTHERFUCKERS BETTER ROT IN HELL]

[look at her face!]

No matter how much love she received, there were always those who couldn't accept her presence.

Over the years, she had developed a thick skin.

She knew she didn’t need to prove herself to anyone, that she was just as much a part of SEVENTEEN as any of the others, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to read such words over and over again. It was as though the hate was a dark cloud that hovered just beyond the warmth of the stage lights, waiting to seep in whenever she let her guard down.

Joshua, sitting next to her, immediately sensed the shift in her demeanor. His sharp eyes noticed how her usual bubbly chatter had quieted down, how she glanced at the screen but didn’t engage as much as she normally would.

[I am just happy she has them 🥺]

[she doesn’t deserve the hate]

Without a word, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his touch comforting and protective. His gaze met hers in a brief exchange, asking the question without saying a word: Are you okay?

[🥹🥹🥹]

Luna looked up at him and gave a small nod, her lips curving into a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t the hate that bothered her, not anymore— it was how people could hold so much anger and vitriol for someone they didn’t even know. Still, she remained quiet, determined not to let the negative comments ruin the mood of the live.

[BAE JIYEON WE LOVE YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER 💖💖💖]

But Hoshi, ever the observant one, wasn’t about to let it slide. His bright, playful expression faded as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes scanning the comments section intently.

[ngl his shift in attitude gave me fucking chills]

[Hoshi really went from 🐹 to🐯]

Luna watched out of the corner of her eye as his fingers moved across the screen, quietly and deliberately reporting the hateful messages one by one. Only she and Joshua could see what he was doing, but fans started speculating in the chat as well, noticing the change in his expression and how his focus shifted from conversation to something else entirely.

[HE REALLY SAID “TRY ME BITCH”]

[he was mass reporting the shit out of them hoes]

Then, after a few moments of silence, Hoshi sat back, his face serious, his usually playful tone replaced with something much firmer, more resolute. His voice carried an edge that left no room for argument, yet he wasn’t aggressive— just calm, measured, and unwavering. He addressed the chat directly, his eyes staring straight into the camera.

[HELP— HE IS GENUINELY TERRIFYING ANGRY]

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, then you should just leave,” Hoshi said, his words clear and firm. “This live is for all of us to have fun and spend time together. I won’t tolerate disrespect toward any of my members. If you don’t like it, that’s fine— but I won’t have people being rude. That’s not what SEVENTEEN is about, and that’s not the kind of fans we want. So if you’re here to spread hate, you’re not welcome.”

[SHIT– I… 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[RAWR! THAT’S THE TIGER IN HIM]

He paused, his expression softening just slightly, but his message was unmistakable. “Let’s all just be kind to each other, okay? That’s the kind of energy we need.”

[AMEN TO THAT!]

[YOU LOSERS HEAR HIM?!]

The chat exploded with a mix of reactions. Supportive fans immediately flooded the comments with love for Luna, agreeing with Hoshi’s words and calling out the haters who had been leaving negative comments. But there were still others who continued to protest, claiming they had a right to their opinions, or that they hadn’t said anything wrong.

Through it all, Luna stayed quiet. She occasionally responded to a few positive comments, forcing a smile here and there, but her heart wasn’t in it. Joshua and Hoshi tried their best to lighten the mood, playfully nudging her to join the conversation, but the damage had already been done— not because she was hurt by the hate, but because it confused her.

How could people carry so much anger, so much spite, for someone they didn’t even know? It was a question she couldn’t answer and one that weighed on her more than the comments themselves.

[she looked sad the entire time]

[I’m so sorry, baby 🥺]

As the live continued, the mood eventually lightened again, thanks to Hoshi’s relentless energy and Joshua’s calm, steady presence. But for Luna, the evening felt a little heavier, her mind drifting back to the reality of her position as SEVENTEEN's only female member. She would never let the hate break her, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.

“BAE JIYEON MARRY ME!”

The air was buzzing with excitement inside the venue as fans eagerly waited for the fan sign event to begin. The members of SEVENTEEN sat in a line, comfortably seated behind a long table on the stage, each with their markers in hand, ready to greet their Carats up close. The stage lights cast a soft glow over the group as they casually chatted amongst themselves, waving occasionally to the fans in the audience, who were waiting for their turn.

Luna, seated between Joshua and Minghao, was twirling her marker absentmindedly, her attention drifting between the other members' conversations and the distant murmur of the crowd. The relaxed energy around her was something she always cherished at fan signs— a rare chance to connect with the fans on a more personal level.

[I HAVE SAID IT ONCE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN… SHE IS BEAUTIFUL… AND SMOKING HOT 😍🥵]

But just as Luna was about to engage in a conversation with Minghao, a loud, booming voice from the audience broke through the steady hum of the crowd.

“BAE JIYEON, MARRY ME!”

[Honestly… valid]

The sudden, bold declaration reverberated across the room, sending ripples of surprise and laughter through the fans. Luna, completely caught off guard, froze mid-spin, her eyes widening as she looked up toward the sea of fans. Her heart jumped in her chest, not from the proposal itself, but from the unexpected shock of it all.

[She’s adorable]

[She’s also concerned]

A chorus of laughter and amused giggles rose from the audience. Luna, still recovering from the jolt of surprise, reached for the mic in front of her, her lips curving into an amused smile.

She was about to reply, maybe tease the fan back, but before she could even bring the mic to her lips, the response came— not from her, but from the thirteen members seated beside her.

[And there they go…]

A resounding, collective, and very loud “NO!” erupted from her bandmates. The word shot across the room in unison, like a protective shield around her, each member adding their own flair to the rejection.

[THEY CRACK ME TF UP 😂]

Seungcheol was the first to react, playfully crossing his arms over his chest and giving a mock glare toward the fan as he leaned back in his seat. “Absolutely not,” he added, shaking his head as if to cement the point.

Dino and Jun, sitting a few seats down, followed suit, their arms shooting up into the air in exaggerated protest. “No, no, no!” They chanted, shaking their fingers dramatically, their expression both comical and stern.

Hoshi, always one to escalate things, leaned forward in his chair, his voice loud and booming as he pointed into the audience. “You’ve got some nerve!” he said playfully, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Jiyeon’s not going anywhere, you hear me?”

The fans roared with laughter, thoroughly entertained by the group’s immediate and united defense. Even Woozi, known for his quieter reactions, shook his head silently, his lips forming a firm, resolute “no” as he glanced down the line at Luna, his protective instincts subtly showing.

Mingyu, seated at the far end, leaned into his mic. “Good try, though,” he deadpanned, earning another round of chuckles from the audience.

[MENACES]

Luna couldn’t help but laugh, her shoulders shaking as the members continued their playful scolding. It was a chaotic chorus of no’s, some loud and exaggerated, others quiet but firm. The overwhelming display of protection from her members warmed her heart, and she could see the amusement spreading among the fans as well.

[JIYEON JUST SAT THERE LIKE: “YUP 😇”]

Even the fan who had shouted the proposal was laughing along, clearly enjoying the playful banter his boldness had sparked.

As the ruckus continued, Luna finally leaned back in her chair, shaking her head with a grin. The mic still rested in her hand, but there wasn’t much for her to say— her bandmates had already spoken loud and clear.

Then, amidst the fading echoes of laughter, Jeonghan, who had remained relatively quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. His voice was calm and smooth as he brought his mic to his lips, his usual playful smirk replaced with something more composed.

“Sorry, but that question is sensitive for us,” he said nonchalantly, though there was a glint in his eyes that made it clear there was more truth to his words than his tone let on.

[Translation: “Only I get to ask her to marry me.”]

The laughter in the room softened, and for a split second, a quiet fell over the stage as Luna and the rest of the members registered the weight behind Jeonghan’s words. It was a joke, of course, but Luna knew Jeonghan better than most— and she could tell he was serious.

He always was when it came to her.

Luna’s laughter faded into a softer smile, a silent understanding passing between her and Jeonghan as their eyes briefly met across the table. He gave her a small, reassuring nod, and she returned it, appreciating the subtle way he always looked out for her. Even in moments like this, where the line between playfulness and sincerity blurred, Jeonghan’s protectiveness always shone through.

[STOP FLIRTING WITH MOM, DAD!]

The fans, blissfully unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words, erupted into laughter once again, the lighthearted atmosphere quickly returning. Luna, feeling the warmth of her members’ care, picked up the mic at last and shook her head, addressing the original fan who had proposed.

“I think you got your answer,” she said with a teasing smile, the laughter in her voice unmistakable.

[Translation: “Only Yoon Jeonghan gets to marry me.”]

The fans cheered, and the rest of the members continued to playfully banter as the fan sign officially began. But throughout the rest of the event, Luna couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the family she had in SEVENTEEN— their protectiveness, their loyalty, and their unwavering support. It wasn’t always easy being the only female member, but in moments like this, she knew she wasn’t alone.

And there you have it, folks! Just a small glimpse into SEVENTEEN’s ultimate protective instincts when it comes to their one and only Luna. I mean, if you ever had any doubts about how loved this girl is, well… think again.

Thirteen men— yes, thirteen— willing to risk it all, fight the world, and probably even dive into traffic if it meant keeping her safe. So, a quick reminder to all: Never— and I mean NEVER— mess with Bae Jiyeon unless you want these maniacs after you.

But hey, can you really blame them? Luna’s got their backs, and they’ve got hers. It’s a whole family thing at this point.

Thanks for watching! Don’t forget to comment on more wholesome SEVENTEEN content you want to see next! See you next time— unless you’re out there trying to propose to Luna… in which case… good luck with that!”

comments…

@/lunababybae • 10 months ago ╰ Luna’s sasaeng attack pisses me off but angry and protective Cheol makes up for it 🥵

@/mimilyemily • 10 months ago ╰ DID YOU SEE HOW FAST CHOI SEUNGCHEOL AND JEON WONWOO REACTED AT 1:00 GOOD LORD

@/gyusshadow • 10 months ago ╰ OUR LEADER SCOLDING SECURITY FOR LUNA 🥺 MY MAN RIGHT THERE!!!

@/moonlight_1997 • 10 months ago ╰ Jeonghan caressing Luna’s red arm 1:25 idk if I am to feel soft over him touching her like that or pissed off that her arm is red because of that sasaeng 🙃

@/saythename • 8 months ago ╰ Seokminie zipping Jiyeonie up that quick during Fear is a skill and a hot skill at that!

@/jeonwoowonwoo • 7 months ago ╰ They are all so protective of her, it’s super endearing 💖🥺

@/mrsbaebae • 7 months ago ╰ THE THREE BLOCKS ARE ICONIC!!!

@/jeongnanana • 7 months ago ╰ THESE MEN ARE THE STANDARD WTF!? JUST THE WAY THEY TREAT LUNA IS PROOF ENOUGH 💕🤭

@/gyuuuuudaily • 6 months ago

╰ YOON JEONGHAN DEFENDING LUNA DURING THEIR TRAINEE DAYS IS STILL ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I HAVE EVER HEARD TILL THIS DAY!!!

@/bbbiiibbiii • 5 months ago ╰ That exchange of looks from Luna and Hannie at 19:57 😍😍😍

@/missbitchhhh • 3 months ago ╰ note to self: “How to get Svt to notice you = ask Luna to marry you.”

@/shadowmyshadow• 2 months ago ╰ I have completely erased that Hoshi live from my mind. Seeing Luna sad and quiet like that breaks me 🥺

@/kpppopieaddict • 1 week ago ╰ They are all down bad for her wbk (I am too).

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

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 day

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In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

#asks #leverage

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d-lmthael · 3 days

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Donation protected

I am Imtithal from North Gaza, I share with you the deep sorrow of my family from Gaza, so I created this campaign for him to try to help him and his family. I know that donations are not easy in these times, but I believe that every contribution has the power to change someone's life.

That is why I am participating in this campaign

with all my faith, not only to keep them saved, but also to protect their dreams and help them get out of Gaza. I am Imtithal from Gaza, I lost all my dreams and my job as a dentist, I lost my home, I lost my brother Obaida who was killed and he had young children, and my family lost their entire livelihood because of this war in Gaza. We live in miserable conditions and live in poor conditions with my family of 35, most of whom are young children. We are always trying hard to provide a living as hunger and thirst kill us. The scene continues, full of depression, sadness, fear and horror. The siege imposed on us, the

genocide that follows us, all kinds of torment and suffering, the spread of diseases, all of this and more kills life in Gaza, kills our existence, and our lives have turned into an endless nightmare, amidst hopes hanging by a thin thread. We are suffering now, and we do not know what tomorrow will bring. We do not know when this war will end!!! Because we have lost everything beautiful, we are about to lose more. We face harsh conditions and a dark future for our lives, displacement, poverty and pain. But there is a glimmer of hope with your help and generous donations. We can leave Gaza and build a new life and rise from the rubble. Every small donation can make a big difference. That is why I seek through your donations. To get out at a time when an individual pays huge sums of money ranging between ($5,000, $10,000) per person. My family and I are in dire need to get out of Gaza so that we do not lose our lives, and we also need to rebuild our lives again, so that we can rise and return as we were. A new home, the opening

#dungeon meshi #formula 1 #free palestine #epic the musical #hugh jackson #sonic the hedgehog #wade wilson #artists on tumblr #bill cipher #jujutsu kaisen #free gaza #freepalastine🇵🇸#gaza genocide #gaza strip

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elbiotipo · 3 days

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Some notes on worldbuilding with carnivorous cultures:

Animals feed more people than you think. You don't kill a cow for just one steak, this is a modern kind of idea since we're removed from the actual animals we eat our meat from. In fact, slaughtering a single cow often means a feast time for possibly dozens of people. Every part of an animal can be used, and you can see this in cultures that live by ranching and transhumance.

Here, you should look at the Mongols and the people of the Eurasian Steppe, the people of the North American Plains, the people of the Pampas (fun fact; Buenos Aires was called the "carnivore city"), European and Asian cultures that practice transhumance, and those of the Arctic circle.

There are many ways to cook meat, but arguably, the most nutritious way to consume meat is in stew, as it allows you to consume all the fats of the animal and add other ingredients. In fact, mutton soup and stew historically was one of the basic meals for the for people in the Eurasian Steppe, who are one of the people with the highest meat consumption in the world.

Of course, meat spoils away easily. Fortunately, from jerky to cured meats, there are ways to prevent this. In pre-industrial and proto-industrial societies, salted meat was the main way of consumption and exporting meat. This makes salt even a more prized good.

Often, certain parts of animals like eyes, the liver, the testicles, the entrails, are considered not only cultural delicacies but as essential for vitamins and nutrients unavailable in environments such as the poles. The Inuit diet is a very strong example.

Pastures and agriculture have often competing dynamics. The lands that are ideal for mass pasture, that is, temperature wet grasslands, are also often ideal for agriculture. So pastoralism has often been in the margins of agrarian societies. This dynamic could be seen in the Americas. After the introduction of cattle and horses, the Pampas hosted semi-nomadic herdsmen, natives and criollo gauchos. The introduction of wire eventually reduced this open territory, converting it into intense agriculture, and traditional ranching was displaced to more "marginal" land less suitable for agriculture. Similar processes have happened all over the world.

This also brings an interesting question to explore. Agriculture is able to feed more people by density. What about species that DON'T do agriculture, because they're completely carnivorous? The use of what human civilization considers prime agricultural land will be different. They will be able to support much higher population densities than pastoralism.

Pastoral human populations have developed lactase persistance to be able to feed on dairy products even in adulthood. This mutation has happened all over the world, presumably with different origins. In any mammalian species that domesticates other mammals such a thing would be very common if not ubiqutous, as it massively expands the diet. Milk provides hydration, and cheese, yogurth and other such products allows long lasting food sources.

What about hunting? Early humans were apex predators and we are still ones today. However, humans can eat plants, which somewhat reduces the hunting pressure on fauna (though not the pressure of agrarian expansion which can be even worse). An exclusively carnivorous species (for example some kind of cat people) would have to develop very rigid and very complex cultural behavior of managing hunting, or else they would go extinct from hunger before even managing domestication. These cultural views towards hunting have also arosen in people all over the world, so you can get a sense of them by researching it.

It is possible for pastoral nomadic people, without any agriculture, to have cities? Of course. All nomadic peoples had amazing cultures and in Eurasia, they famously built empires. But they traded and entered conflicts with agrarian societies, too. They weren't isolated. Most of nomadic societies were defined by trade with settled ones.

The origin of human civilization and agriculture is still debated. It would be probably completely different for a non-human carnivorous society. One possible spark would be ritual meeting points (such as the historical Gobleki Tepe) or trade markets growing into permanent cities. But in general, pastoralism, hunting and ranching favors low-density populations that would be quite different.

Fishing, on the other hand, is a reliable source of protein and promotes settled cities. One can imagine acquaculture would be developed very early by a civilization hungry for protein.

Other possibilities of course are the raising of insects and mushrooms, both very uncommonly explored in fiction besides passing mentions.

Of course, most carnivorous species have some limited consumption of plant matter and many herbivores are oportunistic predators. The main thing to ask here is what the daily meal is here. For most human agrarian cultures, it's actually grain (this is where the word meal comes from). What about species that cannot live with a grain-based diet? You will find that many things people take for granted in agrarian society would be completely different.

As I always say: the most important question you can ask is "where does the food comes from?"

I hope you found these comments interesting and useful! I would love to do a better post once I'm able to replace my PC (yes, I wrote this all in a phone and I almost went insane). If you like what I write and would love to see more worldbuilding tips, consider tipping my ko-fi and checking my other posts. More elaborate posts on this and other subjects are coming.

#cosas mias #worldbuilding #speculative evolution #spec evo #spec bio #writing advice

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helen-with-an-a · 20 hours

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Will there be a second part of "Be The Best" where the girls help the reader. But at some point, the father comes and says that the reader needs to become even better, but the girls stand up for him and drive him away.

Or where the reader turns out to be a good person and tries to make friends with everyone, but it turns out to be awkward.

Hiiiii - so this is a little sadder than I anticipated but I quite like it. I might make a pt3 I'm not to sure - what do you guys think/if you have any reqs for it? Also please just imagine that there's like a foresty/woodsy type bit at Colney

Be the Best pt 2

AWFC x reader ; Leah Williamson x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R has some self-realisation after trying to make friends

Word count: 4.6k

You had never felt so stupid in your life. Why? Why had you done that? Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you walked. You couldn’t let them fall. No emotion. The best don’t feel emotion.

It was lunch time, a time you usually spent eating alone before going on a walk around Colney, usually ending up in the gym. After much reassurance from Kim, you had finally worked up enough courage to approach some of the team. Kim had made it sound so simple – just walk up to them and ask if you could join. You had rehearsed it in your mind a dozen times, mentally preparing for every possible reaction.

But when you finally stood there, tray in hand, in front of the group of girls who seemed to belong to an entirely different world, everything went wrong. They were sitting in the corner of the canteen, their laughter and chatter like a bubble you had no idea how to penetrate. You were so sure you looked ridiculous – just standing there, awkward and unsure, as if you had no right to even be in their presence.

“Can I sit?” you grunted, the words leaving your mouth almost of their own accord. As soon as they were out, you regretted them. You kept your eyes glued to the tray in your hands, desperately avoiding the gazes you could feel boring into you. The food on your tray – the food that looked so nice when you picked it out, looked bland and unappetising now – suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking up, to avoid seeing their reactions.

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched on, a tangible force pressing down on you, making you feel smaller and smaller with each passing second. The confidence you had painstakingly built up with Kim's encouragement was slipping away, like sand through your fingers. You had never felt so out of place, so exposed, as you did in that moment, standing there waiting for a response that never came.

Finally, you risked a glance up and caught Kyra’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at you. Did you really scare her that much? The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through you. Were you that terrifying that a simple question had her so scared? Was she always this afraid of you? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling more awkward by the second.

Alessia and Lotte exchanged concerned glances, their silent communication only adding to your growing unease. You could see the tension in their faces, the way they seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with you, as if your mere presence was some kind of problem they had to solve. Vic, who had always seemed so confident and collected, visibly gulped, her nervousness painfully clear.

No one spoke. No one moved. The entire canteen seemed to have dropped into a wary silence, as if the whole room was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly you were the centre of attention. The air was thick with unease, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart pound.

What the fuck were you doing? The question echoed in your mind, growing louder with each passing second. You couldn’t sit with them. You didn’t belong there, in their world, no matter how much you wanted to. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, and the embarrassment that followed was almost too much to bear. You don’t need to sit with them, you told yourself, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left.

And then, just as quickly as you had convinced yourself to approach, you mumbled something unintelligible – a mix between an apology and an excuse that even you couldn’t understand – and turned on your heel. The shame was like a weight on your back, driving you away from the table, away from the awkward silence that had frozen you in place.

You walked as quickly as you could without breaking into a run, your feet carrying you away. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to spill over, but you forced them back, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat.

You continued walking out of the canteen, your footsteps quick and unsteady, the tray of food abandoned on a random table near the door in your haste to get away. The clatter of the tray as it hit the table echoed in your ears, but you didn’t care. You just needed to escape. The walls of the canteen felt like they were closing in on you, the stares of the other students—real or imagined—burning into your back.

The gym. That’s what you would normally do to squash the feelings down. It was your sanctuary, the one place where everything made sense, where you could channel everything into something physical, something real. There was nothing like running until you felt like your legs were going to give out, or punching the bags hanging in the corner until your arms ached and your hands were bloody. Pain was something you could deal with; it was tangible, controllable. The emotions, though – they were a different beast entirely. The best didn’t feel emotions. You had told yourself that so many times it had become a mantra. Emotions made you weak, and you couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now, not ever.

But you would be easily found in the gym. It was the first place anyone would look, and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding you like this – sweaty, shaking, and teetering on the edge of a breakdown. You didn’t want to be found. You couldn’t let anyone see the cracks in the armour you’d worked so hard to build. Not now, not after what had just happened. You had embarrassed yourself in front of the team, made a fool of yourself by going against your instincts, by trying to reach out and connect when you knew better.

You needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere you could lick your wounds in peace. The locker room was out of the question – too many people coming and going, too many chances for awkward questions and pitying looks. The thought of facing anyone right now was unbearable.

You found yourself heading for the back exit of the gym, the one that led out to the far side of the training grounds. It was quieter there, the paths less travelled, especially at this time of day. You pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool air, the breeze hitting your face like a slap. You bit your lip, the pain momentarily distracting you from the hurt of your stupidity. The coolness of the air was a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside, and for a moment, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes, the sound oddly satisfying, grounding you in the present. You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, but you didn’t care. You just needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the people inside. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You bit your lip even harder, tasting iron on your tongue. The best don’t feel emotions. The best don’t need friends. The best train and work hard. The best practice until they physically drop. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to put yourself in situations where you felt so exposed. So why had you allowed yourself to think, even for a moment, that this time might be different?

The girls’ faces flashed in your mind – Kyra’s wide, startled eyes, Alessia and Lotte’s concerned glances, Vic’s visible gulp. The sudden silence of the canteen echoed in your mind. They hadn’t known what to do with you, hadn’t known how to react, and that stung more than you wanted to admit. A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Besides that day in the media room with Kim, you don’t remember the last time you cried.

Actually, that was a lie. You remember the exact time and place where you last cried. You were 10, you had just received the academy letter that you were to be their second-choice goalkeeper for the Under 12s. You had shown your mum, she had been so excited for you, beckoning your father over to have a look. He had told you it was first choice or nothing. If you weren’t going to be the best, then you shouldn’t even bother. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, clutching the letter so tightly that you woke up with paper cuts. You wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that you could be the best, but that tiny voice in your head, the one that echoed his words, made you doubt yourself. It made you wonder if you’d ever be good enough.

The sky had transitioned from a soft amber glow to a deepening indigo, the kind of blue that swallows the light whole. You had found a bench just off the path, hidden by a canopy of trees that whispered in the evening breeze. The bench was old, the wood splintered and weathered. It was a place where you could disappear, if only for a little while.

You had never missed training before. Not even when you were 18 and had pneumonia. You could still remember that week, the way your chest burned with every breath, your lungs heavy with fluid that rattled every time you inhaled. But you stayed bundled in layers, forcing your body through drills with single-minded determination. Your coach had asked if you were okay, concern flickering across his face, but you’d just nodded, pushing past the exhaustion and pain. You could barely breathe, but missing training wasn’t an option. Not then, and not now. Or at least, that’s what you’d always believed. The best doesn’t show weakness. But today was different. Today, you couldn’t find that strength. The drive that usually pushed you onto the pitch, no matter how tired or sick you were, had vanished. Instead, you felt drained, hollowed out by emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You shivered slightly, a definite autumnal nip to the late summer evening. The long sleeve top you wore did little to prevent the cold from settling on your skin, but you welcomed the chill. It kept you grounded, made the swirling thoughts in your head a little less chaotic. The cold helped you think, or at least gave you something tangible to focus on when your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Your mind kept drifting back to Kyra. She had looked so genuinely scared of you. The memory of her wide, startled eyes made your stomach twist with guilt. You’d never seen her like that before – Kyra, who was always so confident, so full of life. She’d looked at you like you were a stranger; someone she didn’t recognise. And maybe, in that moment, you were. Maybe you didn’t recognise yourself either.

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as if the pressure could hold you together. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and the people and the expectations. But the peace was deceptive, fragile. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, you’d have to go back, face the reality of your team. The cold crept deeper into your bones, but you didn’t move. You deserved this discomfort, this numbness.

A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You wiped them away quickly, but more followed, and soon you were crying in earnest, silent sobs that shook your shoulders and left you gasping for breath. You hadn’t cried like this in years, hadn’t allowed yourself to. But now, alone in the dark, surrounded by nothing but trees and the fading light, you let the tears come.

It wasn’t just Kyra’s fear that haunted you, but the realization that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as strong as you thought. The thought was terrifying, a crack in the foundation you’d built your entire life on. If you weren’t the best, if you weren’t unbreakable, then what were you? Who were you?

The tears slowed eventually, leaving you drained and exhausted. You rested your head on your knees, staring blankly at the ground as the darkness settled in around you. The training session was definitely over by now, the team heading back to the locker room, wondering where you were. They’d ask questions tomorrow, they’d want to know why you weren’t there, and you didn’t have any answers to give them.

But for now, you stayed on the bench, hidden away from the world, trying to piece yourself back together. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, but for a little while longer, you allowed yourself to be weak, to be human. The best doesn’t show weakness – those were the words you’d lived by for so long. You didn’t know how to live without them.

You heard footsteps approaching. Whoever it was, was moving wearily - each step slow and calculated, like trying to approach a frightened animal. Is that what they saw you as? A wounded creature that had to be handled with caution, a volatile presence they needed to tread carefully around to protect themselves? The thought stung more than it should have. You used to like having that barrier. That bubble of self-protection that kept you alive.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to acknowledge whoever was coming. Maybe if you stayed still, they’d turn back, leave you to your thoughts. But the footsteps continued, growing closer until they finally stopped just a few feet away. You could feel the presence lingering there, the silence heavy between you.

“Hey,” a voice broke through the quiet, soft and hesitant. It was Leah. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her – her voice was unmistakable, that Milton Keynes accent audible even on a single syllable word. You didn’t need to be told why they had sent her to find you. She was your national captain, your club’s vice-captain. You had always respected her.

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t really know what to say. You let the silence linger, stretching on to the point where Leah questioned if you even heard her. The silence hung between you, thick and heavy. Leah’s words were gentle, but they carried weight. “You missed training.” It was a simple statement of fact, but it felt like more – a subtle nudge, a reminder of the responsibility you’d momentarily abandoned. You expected her to follow it up with something more – maybe a reprimand, maybe an expectation that you explain yourself. But instead, Leah just sat there, her presence calm and steady.

You could feel her eyes on you, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. What could you possibly tell her that she didn’t already know? She had seen what happened in the canteen. She had seen your stupid attempt to make amends. She had seen everything.

But Leah didn’t push. She didn’t demand answers or try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she simply waited, giving you the space to speak when you were ready – or not, if that’s what you needed. It was one of the reasons you respected her so much. She understood that sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Leah finally said, her tone soft, understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all that matters.”

Her words caught you off guard. You’d expected some kind of judgment, some level of disappointment that you’d let the team down, but instead, there was just concern. Genuine concern, not just for the team, but for you. It was a foreign feeling; one you weren’t sure how to process.

“Kim told me that you were thinking of trying to start sitting with people at lunch,” she continued, her voice gentle but probing. There was no judgment in her words, just a simple observation. It was as if she was giving you an opening, a chance to share what was really going on inside your head. But even with the invitation, the words still felt tangled up inside you, too messy to untangle in front of someone else.

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the rough wood digging into your legs, grounding you in the present moment. It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time – a small step toward breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself, a way to prove to the team that you were trying, that you wanted to be a part of things. But now, in the cold light of Leah’s concern, it felt almost childish. What had you really expected? That one gesture would erase months of distance, that a seat at the table would magically make everything better?

“Am … am I a bully?” It was something that had been floating around your head all afternoon. No one looked that scared, that nervous of someone unless they had valid cause.

Leah’s eyes widened slightly at your question, and for a moment, she seemed taken aback. But she recovered quickly, her expression softening as she took in the vulnerability behind your words. She didn’t rush to answer, clearly understanding the weight of what you’d just asked.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice gentle but resolute. “You’re not a bully.”

You wanted to believe her, but the doubt still gnawed at you, clawing at the edges of your mind. “My dad’s a bully. And I act like him.”

Leah's expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly as she processed your words. There was no immediate response, just a thoughtful silence that hung between you. You could see the wheels turning in her mind, the careful consideration she was giving to what you had just said.

“You’re not your dad,” Leah finally said, her voice steady and calm.

“But I act like him.” Your voice held no emotion. These were simple facts. At least in your mind. “He screams and shouts at me for the smallest thing. I shouted at Kyra in a training session. I asked if she was deaf or just stupid. I told her she shouldn’t think. I shout at everyone. I told Alessia she was a waste of money. I said to Laia that she was useless, and I couldn’t understand how she won the World Cup with her defensive skills. I said we were doing better without Laura during her first session back. I told Jen I was glad to see her go because we would make fewer stupid mistakes”

You weren’t proud of anything you said. Each accusation felt like a knife twisting in your chest. The realisation of the hurt you had inflicted was almost unbearable. You could see their faces in your mind – Kyra’s eyes wide and a little glossy with hurt, Alessia’s shoulders slumping, Laia’s frustration, and Jen’s quiet resignation. You knew you’d been mean, knew that all those little comments had chipped away at people’s confidence and self-worth. It was the technique your dad and old coaches had done to you. In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt. Your dad had broken you a long time ago.

Leah listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours as you laid out the fears that had been gnawing at you. Her eyes widened slightly as you listed the hurtful things you’d said. The gravity of your admissions was evident in the way her expression softened, shifting from surprise to deep concern. She took a moment before responding, her voice steady but compassionate.

“What do you think when you let a goal in?” The question took you by surprise. The question hung in the air, unexpected and almost jarring in its simplicity. For a moment, you were caught off guard, trying to piece together why Leah would ask something so seemingly unrelated.

“That I’m worthless. What’s the point in having a keeper if they can’t stop the goals, right?” You sniffed a little, thinking about all the self-deprecating thoughts that course through your mind at lightning speed if you let a goal in. You bit your lip, letting the familiar pain wash over you.

Leah's eyes remained locked on yours, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and understanding. She took a moment to absorb your words before responding, her voice calm and measured. “Who told you that?” You blinked, looking at for her a brief second, confusion clouding your mind. “Who told you that you’re worthless if you let a goal in?”

“My … my dad, my old coaches. But everyone knows that goalkeeper’s who can’t keep clean sheets are useless," you laughed humourlessly. "I mean, look at our Champions League matches last season, we lost on penalties, that’s my fault. We came third in the league, I let too many goals in. We crash out of the FA cup because of a goal that I could’ve easily stopped. I let a goal in the Conti cup. All of them are my fault. I wasn’t good enough. And with England? I let the goal in in the World Cup, our Nations League losses were all my fault, goals that shouldn’t have been scored. I’m the reason we weren’t at the Olympics this year. We qualified for the Euros by the skin of our teeth – we lost to France and drew to Sweden on home soil.” It was the rhetoric that had been spewed to you all summer. Every day, you needed to be better, do better, be the best, you couldn’t make a mistake. Look at what mistakes had cost you.

Leah listened carefully. Yes, she knew you carried each loss personally, but she didn’t know you took it this badly. She could see the deep exhaustion in your bones, the deep circles under your eyes, the paleness in your skin. You looked like you hadn’t had a proper rest in years. Each statement you made was like a dagger, not only piercing through your own sense of self-worth but also hitting Leah in a place she hadn’t expected. The weight of your guilt and frustration was palpable, and it was clear how deeply you were affected by every perceived failure.

She could see the toll this relentless self-blame was taking on you. Leah had known about the pressure you faced, but hearing the full extent of your suffering was sobering. It was one thing to understand the high stakes of professional sports, but it was another to see someone so dedicated and talented struggle under the crushing burden of their own expectations. She was struck by how your relentless pursuit of perfection, driven by past experiences and harsh criticisms, had led you to this place of self-doubt. The emotional scars were clearer now, and Leah could see that your harshest critic wasn’t just your dad or your old coaches – it was yourself.

Leah’s heart ached for you. She remembered her own struggles, the pressure to perform and the fear of failure that often accompanied high-level competition. But what you were expressing went beyond that. It wasn’t just about the weight of a single match or a missed opportunity; it was about a pattern of self-destruction that had become ingrained, a relentless inner voice that constantly reminded you of every shortcoming.

“I’ve heard it all before,” you continued, your voice cracking as you went. “Every mistake, every goal that went in was my fault. If I don’t perform perfectly, then I’m useless. I’m supposed to be the last line of defence. What good is a goalkeeper that lets goals in? In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt.” You sounded so lost, in so much pain. Yet you clearly believed every word you were saying.

Leah’s eyes softened even more as she listened to your words. The silence that followed your last statement was heavy, thick with unspoken emotions. Leah let it linger, allowing the gravity of your confession to settle between you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, yet full of determination. "I don’t believe that," she said firmly. "I don’t believe that you have to be broken to be the best. And I don’t think anyone should make you feel that way."

You looked at her, an unfamiliar ache in your chest tightening as you tried to absorb what she was saying. "But I am broken," you whispered, the words almost choking you. "I’ve been broken so many times. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Leah. All I know is that I have to be perfect, or everything falls apart."

Leah shook her head, her expression resolute. "You’re not broken," she insisted. "You’re hurt. And there’s a difference. You’ve been hurt by people who should have supported you, people who should have built you up instead of tearing you down. But that doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human."

Your breath hitched as you processed her words. They were so different from the ones you had grown accustomed to hearing, the harsh criticisms and impossible expectations that had been drilled into you for years. Part of you wanted to reject them, to cling to the familiar pain because it was what you knew. But another part of you, a small, fragile part, wanted desperately to believe that Leah was right.

Leah reached out, placing a hand on your arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You’re not alone," she said softly. "We all make mistakes. We all have moments when we don’t perform the way we want to. But that doesn’t define us. You’re so much more than those moments. And you’re allowed to be human, to have bad days, to not be perfect all the time."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to maintain control. It was hard, though, with Leah looking at you like that, with so much compassion and understanding in her eyes. "What if I’m not good enough?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Leah moved over slightly, shuffling across the bench until she was almost touching you. "You are good enough," she said firmly. “We are a team. We help each other be the best. We rely on each other and push each other to be better. We can start slowly, there’s a team bonding next week. We’re going to the cinema and then out for a meal and drinks. I know you don’t usually come but how about you turn up. If you don’t like it or you want to go home, you can do – no questions asked.” You had never been to the cinema before. At least not that you can remember – maybe when you were a kid?

“Cinema … that sounds … nice.”

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rafecameronssl4t · 17 hours

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Frat president || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Unlike Rafe, you managed to balance your responsibilities as Sorority President with your personal life and relationships, something he just couldn’t seem to get right.

Warnings: angst!!!

Word count: 1,973

A/n: first time writing frat boy!rafe lmk if you wanna see more

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the bed. You and Rafe lay tangled together under the sheets, the air thick with the heat of the moment. His hand slid across your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever he touched. His lips found yours again, hungry and urgent, as though he had been waiting for this all day—between the calls, the meetings, the endless chaos that came with being the frat president.

"Missed you," he muttered against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy, his body pressing into yours. You smiled into the kiss, knowing he meant it. Rafe was always busy, always handling something, but when he was with you, it was like the world faded away. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

You arched your body against his, feeling that familiar warmth between you, the kind of intimacy that only you two shared. But just as things were getting more intense, the worst sound shattered the mood—the loud buzzing of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. Rafe paused, pulling away just enough to glance at the screen. His eyes flickered with annoyance but also duty, and you knew what was coming.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice soft but pleading, fingers on his jaw to keep him focused on you. "Just a second," Rafe muttered, "it’s the guys." You groaned and sat up, wrapping the sheet around your body. "Of course it is." Rafe pressed the phone to his ear, ignoring your frustration as he answered, his tone switching from soft and intimate to authoritative. "Yeah, what's up?" His voice was commanding, the kind of tone that always came out when he dealt with frat business.

You leaned back against the pillows, pulling the sheets over your chest, watching as he got up from the bed, pacing the room like he was in some kind of frat office rather than your bedroom. You watched Rafe’s broad back as he paced across the floor, the low murmur of his voice carrying on a conversation that had nothing to do with you. Every word, every command he gave over the phone to one of his frat brothers only added to the frustration bubbling inside you.

His hand ran through his messy hair as he listened to whoever was on the other end, barking orders and sounding like a leader—like the Rafe everyone else knew. But that wasn’t the Rafe you wanted right now. "Seriously?" Rafe’s voice cut through the air, frustration dripping from his words as he dealt with yet another frat-related crisis. "No, tell him if he doesn't fix it, I'm pulling him from the party this weekend."

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tugged the blanket tighter around you. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. You knew he had responsibilities, but this was supposed to be your time. His phone calls could’ve waited, just this once. But no, everything else always seemed to come first—the frat boys, the parties, the constant drama. It was like you were sharing him with the entire fraternity.

"I said, handle it. No—no, Jacob. I was clear about what you needed to do. Get it fixed, or both of you are looking at probation." Rafe’s voice was cold, sharp as a blade. He paused for a second, then scoffed bitterly. "I don’t care if he was drunk. I don’t give a damn about excuses—just get it done." Rafe snapped into the phone, his voice hard and distant, like he wasn’t the same guy who had just whispered how much he missed you.

You had felt so close to him just minutes ago, tangled in the sheets, his hands on your skin, making you forget everything. You thought tonight would be different, that for once, you could have him all to yourself. The warmth of his touch and the closeness you’d shared felt like a cruel joke now, as you sat alone on the bed, waiting while he dealt with something that wasn’t you.

You stated at the ceiling as his voice grated on your nerves. The anger was bubbling up faster now, impossible to ignore. The thought of being second to his frat boys made your heart ache, but it was more than that. It was the growing realisation that maybe, you’d always be second. Always waiting for him to put you first.

After a few more minutes of listening to Rafe handle the situation, you had enough. "Rafe," you said, your voice sharp as you interrupted him mid-sentence. He glanced over at you, his expression apologetic but still distracted. "Hang on, babe." That set you off. "No, you hang on. You’ve been on that phone for ten minutes. This was supposed to be our time. Remember?" Rafe sighed, covering the phone's speaker with his hand as he turned toward you. "I know, I’m sorry. This is important."

"And I’m not?" you shot back, feeling the sting of his divided attention. Rafe blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. "That’s not what I’m saying." "Sure feels like it," you muttered, turning away from him as you pulled the blanket over your shoulders. You felt the weight of your words settle between you both, a heavy tension replacing the heat from earlier.

Rafe exhaled loudly, covering the phone with his hand. "Babe, I’m handling it. Just give me a second." "That’s the problem, Rafe," you snapped, the anger flaring as you sat up, the blanket falling away from you. "It’s always 'just a second' with you. Always something more important than me. I thought this time would be different."

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. "It’s not like I want to deal with this shit right now, alright? But I’m the president. If I don’t fix these fucking problems, who will?" You shook your head, hurt and anger swirling in your chest. “I get it, Rafe. I know how much responsibility comes with being a president. Believe me, I have my own duties as sorority president. But I’ve learned to separate those responsibilities from my personal life, from us. Something you clearly can’t seem to get a grip on.”

Rafe’s face flushed with frustration. “You think I don’t care about us? You think I’m choosing the frat over you?” Rafe turned fully toward you now, his phone still in his hand but on mute, his voice was a strained mix of anger and desperation. "Of course I care about you. But this is my responsibility. You knew what you were getting into when we got together." "Did I?" you shot back, your voice shaking. "Because I don’t remember signing up to be treated like an afterthought every time someone screws up at a party!"

He rolled his eyes, frustration mounting. "Okay, now you're just overreacting." "Overreacting?" you repeated, the word hanging between you like an accusation. "No, Rafe. I’m tired. Tired of always competing with your frat, tired of feeling like I’m just here when it’s convenient for you. What kind of shitty relationship is this?" He looked at you, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt, maybe.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with the same stone-cold exterior he always put up when things got too real. "What the fuck do you want me to do then?" he asked, his voice strained. "I can’t just drop everything for you every time you feel insecure about this." His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt the sting behind your eyes, but you refused to let him see you cry.

"Insecure?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what you think this is? That I’m just… insecure?" "That’s not what I meant," Rafe said quickly, but the damage was done. You stared at him, your heart aching in a way that felt all too familiar now. It was always the same with him. Every time you tried to open up, to let him know how much this was hurting you, he brushed it off, made it seem like you were the problem.

You stood from the bed, grabbing your clothes from the floor and quickly pulling them on. Rafe’s eyes widened in confusion as you started dressing. "What are you doing?" he asked, stepping closer. "I’m leaving," you replied coldly, buttoning up your shirt. "I'm not doing this tonight." Rafe stood by the bed, his expression torn between irritation and confusion as he watched you. “Are you seriously leaving because of one phone call?” he asked, his voice low and almost pleading.

“Of course not, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling with everything you’d held back for so long. “I’m leaving because I can’t keep feeling like I don’t matter to you. Not anymore.” Rafe's jaw tightened as he crossed the room, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You know how this is, you’re a sorority president. You of all people should know how much responsibility comes with it. You can’t just walk away every time something comes up."

You paused at the door, turning to face him, anger flashing in your eyes. “Yeah, I do know. I know exactly what it’s like to balance responsibilities, Rafe. But I also know how to separate my personal life from it, something you can't ever seem to learn." Rafe stared at you, his hands clenched at his sides as he tried to find the right words. “That’s not fair,” he muttered. “You’re acting like I’m choosing this over you.”

“Aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice cold. “Every time we’re together, it’s like you’re half here, half thinking about what the guys are doing, what crisis you have to fix next. I get it, you have responsibilities, but that shouldn’t mean I have to come second all the time." His mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. He looked at you, the guilt flickering in his eyes, but still, no words that would make a difference.

The air between you both felt thick, heavy with all the things left unsaid for far too long. "Do you even realise how many times I’ve put everything on hold for you?" Your voice cracked, the hurt finally breaking through. “How many times I’ve chosen us over my responsibilities, over everything else? I’ve never made you feel like you were second, Rafe. Not once.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was pleading with you to understand. “You know I am.” “Trying isn’t enough anymore.” Your heart ached as you said it, but you knew it was true. “I shouldn’t have to fight this hard just to feel like I matter to you.” Rafe’s face hardened, the guilt shifting into frustration. “So what, you just give up? Because I can’t drop everything for you in a second?”

Your laugh was bitter as you shook your head. “No, Rafe. I’m not asking you to drop everything. I’m asking you to care enough to make me feel like I’m part of your life, not just something you fit in when it’s convenient. But I guess that’s too much for you.” You turned toward the door again, your hand on the knob. This was it—the breaking point.

The moment where everything you’d been holding onto finally slipped through your fingers. “Wait.” His voice was softer now, almost desperate. You paused, just for a moment, waiting to see if he’d finally say what you needed to hear. But all you heard was the faint buzz of his phone vibrating again on in his hand. And just like that, the hope faded. Without another word, you walked out the door, not looking back.

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lizzieolseniskinda · 3 days

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TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 2

part one | two - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 3745

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

NOT PROOFREAD :D

the corridors of hogwarts were eerily quiet - almost too quiet in the early morning light. you wandered around hogwarts, taking in the atmosphere. it was just how you remembered how life was before the war. but you had to act as if you didn't know, act as if you didn't know your way around hogwarts. your heart was still racing from the overwhelming disorientation of time travel. the walls seemed taller, the stones beneath you felt somewhat smoother. it felt the same but yet so different at the same time.

you had no clue what to do next, the task laid plain ahead of you - find tom riddle and alter the course of his life by becoming his big love. you shook your head, you knew how time travel had a big effect in the timeline. you never took muggle studies - physics - but you knew what this could do. once he sees you, it's done. there's no going back, well it's not like you could turn back whenever you wanted.

but, it was like hermione said, 'no one is supposed to see you' but only this time it was different. if you didn't change tom riddle for the better - you could make him even worse then he was in your time.

"i believe you may be a bit out of place, my dear."

you stopped dead in your tracks, your heart almost leaped out of your chest. the voice was warm, kind, but still serious. you recognized the voice, you turned and saw dumbledore standing there. a somewhat younger version.

you knew he was still a professor in this year, his auburn hair was tinged with a lot of strands of silver, his robes a deep shade of purple. his piercing blue eyes gleamed with curiosity and suspicion as he looked at you. he raised an eyebrow and his lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. you wanted to slap him, angry for making you do this, while telling you absolutely nothing.

"you look as though you've been wandering these halls for quite some time," he continued, stepping toward you. "and yet, i don't recall seeing you in any of my classes."

you swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for a good answer, but you came up empty handed. dumbledore's gaze was patient, waiting for you to speak.

"uhh... i-" you began, voice shaking softly, but you stopped. what could you say? what were you supposed to say? that you had just traveled back into the past to stop one of his students from becoming the biggest and darkest wizard of all time?

dumbledore's eyes softened, "why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private?" he suggested, his tone gentle. "i have a feeling there's more to your story than a lost stroll through the castle."

without waiting for your response, dumbledore turned around, motioning for you to follow him. you hesitated for a second, but the calmness in his demeanor somehow reassured you. reluctantly, you followed him down the corridor, your footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the morning.

after a while, you arrived at an empty classroom, the large wooden door creaking as dumbledore pushed it open. sunlight entered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. the air was filled with a faint scent of parchment and chalk, just like his.

dumbledore gestured to a chair near the front. "please, sit down. make yourself comfortable."

you did ask he asked, feeling out of place in this familiar yet unfamiliar world. dumbledore remained standing in front of your desk for a moment. studying you with those sharp, calculating eyes. "there is something... remarkable about you," he said quietly, his voice kind. "you're not quite where you're supposed to be, are you?"

you looked at your shoes, you realised you also didn't really look the part to only be lost. "no," you admitted. you knew lying to a man like dumbledore would do you no good. "i'm.. not?" you said unsure.

dumbledore nodded, as if he expected that answer. "time," he mused, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "it has a peculiar way of bending when we least expect it."

your head snapped up, meeting his gaze. he knew. he definitely knew. "how?" you breathed, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself from talking. "how did you-"

dumbledore raised his hand to quiet you, "i have my ways," he smiled. "but more importantly, it seems you have a very important reason for being here."

you swallowed, feeling the enormity of your 'mission' pressed down on you, but in dumbledore's presence, it felt a little less overwhelming - though you were still angry he didn't tell you anything sooner. he waited, giving you space to explain.

after a pause, you spoke again. "i was sent.. to change something. something that will affect the future," you hesitated, unsure how much you were allowed to reveal. "it's about tom riddle."

at the mention of riddle's name, dumbledore's expression didn't change, but you saw the smallest change in his demeanor. his gaze become more focused, and he leaned forward slightly.

"tom", he repeated softly. "yes... i've always known there was something... special about that boy."

special? more like dangerous. you nodded, "if i don't change him, if i can't make him different... the world will fall into darkness. everyone i love, my friends..." you stopped. your parents. you hadn't even thought of them. your heart started banging in your chest, you wanted to go back. tell them that you were grateful for everything, and that you were sorry for leaving them behind out of nowhere.

dumbledore didn't react with surprise, he nodded. "do not worry about your friends or family." he sighed softly. "you have been given a great responsibility. but changing the course of someone's life is no simple task, especially when that person's soul is... so deeply marked."

you looked down at your hands, "i don't even know if it's possible."

for a moment, dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed on you with empathy. "nothing is impossible, but you must remember, even the darkest of souls have their choices. tom riddle's path has always been his own. you may be able to guide him... but ultimately, it is up to him who or what he becomes."

his words hung in the air, a reminder of what you were facing. "know that, i will be watching, and if you ever need guidance, you know where to find me."

dumbledore had insisted on introducing you to the Headmaster as a transfer student, emphasizing that no one could know the truth. the fewer people involved in the truth, the better.

you made your way through the corridors of hogwarts with dumbledore. students were scattered around, laughing, talking in hushed voices, completely unaware of the darkness that would be coming.

dumbledore said the password to the headmasters office, it was the same as he had. so original. the spiral staircase came into view as the gargoyle's started moving. you followed your former headmaster up the stairs. the office was filled with old books, a large desk, and a few moving portraits on the walls. it was looked almost the same like dumbledore's office.

behind the desk sat headmaster armando dippet, a tall, thin man with kind eyes. "ah, albus," dippet said, rising from his seat to greet him. "what brings you here?"

dumbledore gestured to you. "headmaster, i would like to introduce you our newest transfer student." he gave you a small nod to encourage you to take a step forward. "she's come from beauxbatons and will be joining us for the rest of her schooling."

dippet's eyebrows rose in surprise. "a transfer from beauxbatons? how delightful! we don't often have students join us from abroad." he looked at you. "what is your name, my dear?"

you swallowed, your nerves tightening your throat, "y/n l/n." you smiled at the headmaster, "i'm honored to be here."

"it's always wonderful to have new students join us at hogwarts. the castle can seem quite large and scary at first, but i'm very sure you'll grow accustomed to it in no time," dippet smiled at you.

you forced back a smile. normally, you would love such pleasantries, but now? absolutely not, it felt as if you wanted to throw up.

dumbledore stepped forward, "headmaster, i've already informed y/n of the basic rules and traditions of the school, but i do believe the sorting hat will handle the rest?"

"indeed," dippet nodded, motioning to a nearby shelf where the sorting hat was in its usual place. "no time like the present."

your heart raced when the sorting hat was placed upon your head. you knew what house you had once belonged to, but would it be hte same here? in this time?

"hmm.." the hat murmured after whining about who dared to wake him up. "interesting... very interesting. you're not like the others i've sorted. ever."

you held your breath.

"i see loyalty.. with a lot of bravery." the had mused, "a fierce desire to do what's right, even when it's proven difficult. courage, and there's something more than that... something deeper.."

did it know? you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, huffing out a breath.

"ah," it whispered. "but that is not for me to uncover. your place, however, is clear."

another moment passed, and then the hat shouted, "gryffindor!"

the word rang in your ears, you weren't placed in the same house. your former house was hufflepuff, what changed? the house of loyalty, hard work, and kindness. maybe this could help ground you. most hufflepuffs you knew where, kind (mostly high as well) and helpful. there were always exceptions but, you were happy with that house.

dippet clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. "a gryffindor! a fine choice indeed. you'll find good company there."

dumbledore's expression remained calm. "it seems that your path is set," he said quietly, his eyes twinkling with that wisdom he always had.

as the hat was lifted from your head, you stood up from the stool you had taken a seat on. gryffindor. it was unexpected, but not wrong - or bad. in some way, it made sense for you. you needed to be brave to talk to tom riddle. so, what better house for that than gryffindor?

the headmaster waved his wand, and a piece of parchment floated over to you. "here's your timetable, y/n," he said, handing it over to you. "you'll begin classes immediately. i'm sure the others will help you find your way.

you took the parchment, scanning the schedule, you had loads of free periods, and as always an astronomy class at midnight on a friday night.

"thank you, headmaster," you said quietly, tucking the parchment under your arm.

dippet smiled. "welcome to hogwarts, y/n. i hope your time here will be both enlightening and rewarding."

"i sure hope so," you nodded. rewarding. you could use the reward of going home.

you and dumbledore left the office, going down the staircase the air felt cooler. dumbledore walked beside you, in silence.

"so, you've been placed in gryffindor," dumbledore broke the silence. "a good choice. you'll find community of loyalty and bravery there."

you nodded, "i didn't expect it."

"sometimes," dumbledore said with a smile," the unexpected paths are the ones that lead us exactly where we need to go. you have been given a second chance, in more ways than one."

"and remember," he said softly. "the fewer people who know your true purpose, the better. riddle must never know why you're really here."

you nodded.

when you stepped inside the gryffindor common room, you immediately felt the warmth. there was a soft red glow from the lanterns, walls were lined with rewards and books. the smell of fresh cookies hung in the air.

a group of students were clustered around a table and looked up as you entered. it was already early in the morning, you wondered why most students were up this time in the morning. the faces of the students were curious but friendly, a wave of relief washed over you. before you could take another step, a girl with curly dark hair and a wide smile broke away from the group.

"hi!" she greeted enthusiastically, her eyes open wide with interest. "you must be the new transfer student! i'm maeve, maeve miller."

you tried your best not to grimace, as you forced a smile. "i'm y/n l/n." the realisation of having to meet and make new friends downed on you even harder.

"professor dippet had owled us. we were all curious, y'know? transfer students aren't that common. you're lucky it's the start of the school year!"

you smiled at maeve's happiness, but you were still baffled at how fast news spreads in hogwarts. i mean you literally just left dippet's office.

"i'll make sure you fit right in, i'll show you to the dormitory," maeve smiled.

you followed her to a spiral staircase, as you walked with maeve, she chatted happily about the house traditions, the upcoming quidditch match, and the best way to sneak extra food from the kitchen.

once you reached the dormitory, you found yourself in a circular room with soft, warm lighting. you saw only one vacant bed - in the middle - with your belongings neatly placed beside it. a suitcase you had recognized, though it felt strange seeing it here. you basically came empty handed here, so how are all your belongings here then?

"how..?" you trailed off, confused.

maeve, caught your confusion. "professor dumbledore's pretty amazing, isn't he? he made sure your belongings were here from yesterday evening. must've used some magic to get your stuff here so quickly."

you nodded, even more confused. you didn't even know you had to time travel yesterday. you had no idea how, and you didn't want to think too much about it before it might drive you mad.

"so, obviously, that's your bed," maeve pointed towards the bed with your belongings on. "and this is mine," she added, pointing to the bed next to yours. "we'll be neighbors! oh, and these are your other roommates."

two other girls approached, one with long red hair and freckles, and the other with short brown curls. they introduced themselves as alicia and lilith, both offering you warm welcoming smiles.

"nice to meet you," alicia said, while lilith gave you a small, shy wave. "it's so exciting to have someone new join us, especially in our fifth year!"

"i'm glad to be here!" you lied right through your teeth. "well, we're heading to breakfast in a bit if you want to join us," alicia offered. "but i'm sure you'll want to settle in first."

"yeah, you guys go ahead, i'll catch up with you in a while," you replied with a nod and a smile.

as the girls made their way out, leaving you alone, you felt disoriented. this was all going too fast. you needed a moment to yourself, normally you would've already been in your last year. you made your way over to the small adjoining bathroom. the light was bright. you stepped in front of the large mirror, ready to see your face full of scars and dirt you got from the war.

but no, your fingers trembled slightly as you reached up to touch your face. staring back at you was a younger version of yourself - exactly as you had looked in your own fifth year at hogwarts. your features were softer, untouched by the weight of the war. your eyes looked brighter.. they hadn't seen the horrors that awaited. no pair of eyes should see a war go down.

it was all surreal, like looking at a stranger. it was clear the potion had not only sent you back in time, but also transformed you to match the age you needed to be.

for a moment, the reflection blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. you had been thrust back into your younger self, in a world you didn't belong in. you took a deep breath, swallowing the fears and tears away. you could do this. you had to do this. for your friends and family.

the first day at hogwarts felt surreal. the familiar sounds of students chatting in the great hall, the smell of fresh made foods and the sight of enchanted candles floating above made you feel like you had stepped back into a dream. you knew there was a big chance that tom riddle was here, in the same room as you.

but before you could worry about him, you had to get through your first day as just another transfer student.

you found yourself sitting at the gryffindor table with your roommates and their friends. "so, what was beauxbatons like? i've heard it's incredibly fancy, with all those grand fountains everywhere," maeve spoke - a good friend from lilith you noted. you could see how she was the one who made lilith blossom open as a shy person.

you hesitated for a second, remembering dumbledore's warning to keep it simple. you gave her a small smile, "it's different from hogwarts. especially since there are a lot more boys here then i'm used to."

lucas, a boy with a head full of black curls looked up, "hogwarts has it's charm, luckily you were sorted into gryffindor, you seem like a cool person and everyone knows it's the best house."

alicia was flipping to your timetables, trying to figure out if you had any classes with your gryffindor friends. "we've got defense against the dark arts first thing! i'm hoping for some practical lesson, today. spells maybe," alicia's eyes widened with excitement.

your stomach dropped slightly after lucas mentioned there was a big chance we'd have a class with the slytherins and a few ravenclaws. given riddle's obsessive interest in the subject, there was no doubt he wouldn't be in this class.

you offered a casual nod, "defence against the dark arts should be interesting..."

after the five of you finished breakfast and gathered your books and made your way to your first class of the day. the halls were busy with students, most of whom paid little attention to you, though a few curious glanced lingered.

once you reached DADA classroom, you found yourself standing at the doorway. you hoped for a normal teacher, when you were in hogwarts every year there was this teacher with the weirdest background ever. the classroom was large, with desks arranged i neat rows, the walls were lined with various defensive artifacts.

you let your eyes wander around the room. there, near the middle, sat tom riddle.

he was exactly as you had imagined - tall, dark-haired, and composed. his sharp features and cold eyes stood out even among your classmates. he exuded an air of authority and confidence. the other students around him seemed to ignore him, you wondered why. were they scared of him, or did they think he was a weirdo?

you quickly tore your gaze away from the back of his head, before he sensed you staring. "come on," maeve whispered, "we don't want you to be late on your first day."

you nodded, and walked towards a vacant seat next to lucas. the professor was a stern looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard. he immediately launched into a discussion of the most advanced spells, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact.

it was pretty hard to focus with the presence of tom riddle in the room. every now and then, you dared to glance at him, watching as he listened intently, his expression focused and serious. you had no idea how you were supposed to change him. he already seemed so… unreachable.

halfway through the class, the professor called for everyone to pair up for dueling practice. maeve grabbed your arm, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“partners?” she asked eagerly.

“of course,” you replied, grateful for the distraction.

you and maeve moved to an open space in the classroom, pulling out your wands as the professor demonstrated a series of defensive spells. you followed along, trying to keep your movements smooth and controlled. thankfully, the practice went well, and maeve seemed impressed.

“you’re really good!” she said after successfully blocking one of your spells. “you must have had excellent teachers at beauxbatons.”

you smiled and nodded at her praise. as you practiced with maeve, you couldn’t help but notice tom a few spaces away, dueling effortlessly with a slytherin boy. his movements were precise, fluid, as if he had been born with a wand in his hand. it was clear to anyone watching that he was far more advanced than most students his age.

finally, when the class came to an end, and you packed up your things, trying to avoid looking at him as you left the room with maeve, lilith, alicia and lucas.

“next up is transfiguration,” alicia said, checking her timetable as you all walked down the corridor. “i’m actually looking forward to that one.”

the rest of the day passed in a similar blur. transfiguration was more manageable — professor dumbledore, who taught the class, gave you a small, knowing smile when he saw you, though he treated you no differently than the other students. you worked on basic transformations alongside your friends, though your mind kept drifting back to defense against the dark arts and the presence of tom riddle.

potions came next, with professor slughorn as the teacher. he welcomed you to the class with open arms, making sure you had everything you needed. it was weird, since you already met him just when he was a bit older. lucas was quick to show you around the room, helping you find ingredients and sharing tips for the potion you were brewing.

“slughorn’s a bit of a collector,” alicia whispered as you carefully added a pinch of powdered unicorn horn to your cauldron. “he loves students with… potential. but he’s nice, at least.”

"he's even got a club," lilith quipped in quietly.

by the time you reached your last class of the day, charms, the exhaustion of trying to keep up appearances had settled deep in your bones. yet, your new friends kept the energy alive. alicia was quick with jokes, and lucas had a dry, witty humor that balanced maeve's enthusiasm. and lilith was just there, enjoying her friends' energy.

a/n: quick chapterrrr, part three will be coming out next week (probably or sooner)

my little taglist <3

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

@artistadistrada2002

@hueanhdang

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paper-mario-wiki · 2 days

Note

So like no disrespect but I'm losing it over you having called Nutty Buddies candy. Is that a regional thing? I don't know where you live but I'm in the american south and have never heard nor could I imagine someone calling it candy. It's always fallen firmly into the snack cake category for me. I can't explain why but I genuinely find it crazy. Asking anonymously in case I get uno reversed and harassed by tumblr for calling it a snack cake.

a bar of milk chocolate, one which is given its shape after its assembled with layers of a kind of nougat, is a candy bar to me. a kit-kat bar is also a wafer-based chocolate bar which is universally regarded as a candy. the only major differences aside from the superficial are that Nutty Buddies have a kind of peanut butter spread in them where kit kats do not.

i also think it wouldn't be inaccurate to call it a snack, though i don't think it would be accurate to call it a "cake".

it's a "is a hot dog a sandwich/is cereal a kind of soup" type of question.

the answer is "soup/sandwich/candy are all false categories and should not be treated as real".

#anon

237 notes · View notes

marysfics · 3 days

Text

Shifting Glances

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Angst, Trauma, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff

Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. I’ve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.

The clinic smells of antiseptic and lavender-scented air freshener, a juxtaposition that somehow fails to be comforting. You’ve gotten used to it by now, the muted tones of the waiting room, the low hum of the fluorescent lights, and the way the receptionists’ voices hover just above a whisper. It’s always the same, except for her.

You glance up from your seat near the corner, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. She’s there again, across the room—her presence nearly impossible to ignore. She’s sitting with her head tilted down, long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, a face mostly hidden under the bill of a cap. Still, you know. You’ve learned to spot the details by now. She’s always wearing loose sports gear, her left knee often taped in some fashion, crutches sometimes leaning against her seat.

You’re not a sports person, so at first, she was just another face, another person passing through the clinic, but then she became something more—a mystery. You’ve stolen more than a few glances during the weeks you’ve sat waiting for your turn. The routine was nearly identical: you both arrived at the same time each week, a brief flicker of acknowledgment between your eyes before you both looked away, as though there was something too dangerous in holding that gaze for too long.

You steal another glance at her, curiosity buzzing beneath the weight of everything else. She has that same air of exhaustion, though you assume hers comes from something more physical. You don’t know her, not really. Just a face, a woman who happens to sit in the same room as you once a week.

Today is no different, except something feels heavier. There’s a quiet ache in your chest that refuses to leave. EMDR therapy—Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing—it’s exhausting, and today, it feels impossible.

You know you’ll be going through the usual: being asked to relive memories, to feel things you’ve spent years suppressing, and to heal what’s been fractured inside of you. It’s tiring and it leaves you feeling hollow at times, especially when you leave. The vulnerability in those sessions never fails to drain you, and you always wonder if it’s helping or just opening old wounds.

But today, you notice something else. Her fingers fidget more than usual, her eyes flickering between her phone screen and the door. Anxiety. She’s nervous too.

The nurse calls your name, interrupting your thoughts. You stand, giving her one last glance, but this time, you don’t look away as quickly as you usually do. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours for the first time in weeks—really meets it. There’s something in her expression, something you can’t quite name. Maybe recognition. Maybe sympathy.

Your feet feel heavier than usual as you walk to the nurse, but there’s a buzzing under your skin now. Her eyes linger on you even as you turn your back, a weight you feel but don’t dare acknowledge. The conversation between the nurse and your therapist is distant, your mind still locked in that fleeting moment of connection.

Why did she look at you like that?

The door closes softly behind you, and you sit down on the familiar couch in your therapist’s office. The room is softly lit, the same as every week, but today it feels different. Or maybe you feel different. Your mind is already racing, though not about the usual memories that drag you under.

“Ready to start?” your therapist asks, her voice calm, grounding you slightly.

You nod, but your mind keeps tugging back to the waiting room, to her—what’s-her-name—sitting there with those tired eyes that somehow looked straight into you. It’s not like it was the first time you’d stolen a glance. But it is the first time she looked back.

The session moves forward in a blur. The rhythmic back-and-forth of your therapist’s fingers in front of your eyes, the instructions to focus on your memories, to feel them without being overwhelmed by them. But today, it’s harder. Harder to concentrate. Harder to dive into the past when your present is hanging on the thread of something unspoken in that waiting room.

Why did she look at me?

The therapist’s voice blends into the background as your eyes follow her hand back and forth, back and forth—trying to focus, trying to do what you’re supposed to. But the room feels wrong today. Usually, this process grounds you, pulls you deep into the recesses of your mind, where old wounds wait to be confronted. But today, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

More specifically, on her.

You’ve spent weeks perfecting the art of pretending she doesn’t exist. A stolen glance here, a quick look away there. She’s always been on the periphery, a quiet presence you’ve never acknowledged out loud. It’s become part of your routine—pretending not to notice her, letting her fade into the background like the murmur of the clinic around you.

But today, she didn’t stay in the background. Today, she noticed you. She looked at you. Not the polite, disinterested glances you’re used to exchanging with strangers in waiting rooms, but something else. Something charged.

Why did she look at me like that?

The therapist’s voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but firm. “Stay with me. What do you feel right now?”

What do you feel?

You swallow, trying to push the image of her from your mind, but it doesn’t budge. Her eyes—the way they held yours for just a second longer than necessary, how something flickered in them before she quickly looked away. Recognition? Or maybe something else? Sympathy? Sadness?

“Um, I feel… I don’t know,” you admit, shaking your head slightly, trying to focus. You’re supposed to be processing your pain, your own tangled memories, but your brain is stubbornly clinging to the way her fingers fidgeted in her lap, the way her leg bounced with impatience. The way her shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight, just like yours.

Your therapist doesn’t push, though her eyes study you carefully. She shifts in her seat, slowly moving her hand back and forth again, drawing your focus back.

“Stay present,” she repeats gently, and you try. You really do. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, trying to feel something other than the strange energy still buzzing under your skin.

But as soon as you open your eyes again, your mind is back in the waiting room. You can almost see her sitting there now, shoulders hunched, the corner of her lip pulled between her teeth as she stared at her phone, looking anxious—maybe even upset. Was it something on the screen that bothered her? Or was it the reason she’s here at all? The knee she cradled with unconscious care, as though even sitting still caused her discomfort?

You don’t know her story. You barely even know her name. But you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more under the surface, something that runs deeper than just an injury or a tired glance. Something that mirrors your own pain in a way that feels unsettlingly familiar.

“Can we take a break?” you ask suddenly, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.

The therapist pauses, her hand still mid-movement. She lowers it slowly and nods. “Of course. Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate. Talking about what’s on your mind usually means revisiting the same memories you’ve been unpacking for months. Trauma that you’ve carried with you like a second skin, the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel like you’re suffocating in your own body. That’s what therapy is supposed to be for—that pain.

But right now, it’s not the past tugging at your mind. It’s the now. The girl sitting across from you every week, the unspoken weight of her presence lingering in your thoughts like a slow burn.

“I… I’m just distracted,” you say, your voice quieter now, unsure.

Your therapist doesn’t press, just nods in understanding. “That’s okay. Sometimes our minds drift when we’re processing a lot. We can pick up whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve, but your mind keeps spinning. The session feels heavier today. Usually, the weight is familiar—the kind of weight you’re used to carrying alone. But now there’s something—or someone—else filling your head, making it hard to sort through your usual patterns.

Why did she look at me like that?

You replay the moment in your mind again, trying to decode it. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you’re overanalyzing a simple glance. People look at each other all the time. She probably doesn’t even remember it now, back to whatever’s pulling at her in her own life. But still… the way her eyes lingered.

Your thoughts tumble into a messy loop of frustration and curiosity. Did she feel something too? Or was it all in your head? She’s a stranger. Just a face you’ve seen in passing. You don’t know her, not really. But somehow, that one glance has you questioning everything.

The therapist’s voice breaks through again, softer this time. “Do you want to try and continue?”

You nod, even though your mind is still miles away from where it should be. As the therapist raises her hand again, beginning the familiar motions in front of your eyes, you take a deep breath, hoping this time you can focus.

But even as your gaze follows the movement of her hand, your mind drifts back to the waiting room, back to those tired eyes and the way they seemed to see something in you. Something you’re not sure you want to face.

And for the first time in weeks, it’s not your own memories that are haunting you.

As the session drags on, the rhythm of your therapist’s hand becomes background noise to the thoughts that swirl relentlessly in your head. You try to bring yourself back to the task at hand, back to the healing process you’re supposed to be focused on, but you feel adrift, untethered.

Her eyes won’t leave your mind. That flicker of something—connection, maybe—that felt so intense in that brief glance. You can still feel it, like a pulse that’s not entirely your own.

It feels ridiculous, honestly. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re here to heal, to peel back the layers of yourself and work through the wreckage inside your mind. You’re here to process your trauma, not to get caught up in the orbit of a stranger who happens to sit across from you once a week. A stranger you don’t even know by name.

Still, the thought of her consumes you.

Why did she look at me like that?

The question hammers in your brain, louder now that you’ve allowed yourself to acknowledge it. There’s a strange comfort in the idea that maybe she sees something in you, too. That maybe the weight she carries isn’t so different from your own. You’ve been drowning in your own pain for so long—what would it feel like to share that with someone who understands? To find recognition in someone else’s eyes?

Or is that just you, projecting?

Focus. You need to focus.

You force yourself to sit up a little straighter, your hands gripping the edge of the chair as your therapist’s voice drifts back into your awareness. You know she’s watching you carefully, noting the way you’ve been distant, distracted, ever since you walked into the room. You haven’t been present today, haven’t really felt anything but the odd, lingering sensation of her—the woman with the tired eyes and the worn knee brace.

You wonder what she’s here for, what injury brought her to this clinic. You’ve pieced together the clues over the weeks—her knee, the way she sometimes leans on crutches, the soft wince she tries to hide when she stands up. Maybe she’s an athlete, or used to be. You’ve caught glimpses of logos on her clothing that hint at something sports-related, but it’s not your world. You wouldn’t know.

Yet despite not knowing, you feel it—the heaviness in her, the same way you feel it in yourself. There’s something unspoken, something you’ve both been avoiding in your stolen glances.

The therapist’s hand passes in front of your eyes again, and you try to refocus. You try to reach for the memories she’s guiding you toward, the ones you’re supposed to be reprocessing. But the memories feel hazy today, like they’re distant and out of reach. Usually, they’re so vivid—too vivid. But now, they’re dulled by the present, by the way your mind is pulling you somewhere else entirely.

“Let’s take another pause,” your therapist suggests, her voice patient but concerned.

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding gratefully. The tension in your body eases just slightly, but your mind is still racing.

“I think…” you begin, your voice hesitant. “I’m just not all here today.”

Your therapist waits, giving you space to elaborate. You know she’s used to this. Distraction is common during these sessions, but you’ve never felt this kind of restlessness before. This kind of… preoccupation.

“There’s… someone,” you admit finally, the words slipping out before you’ve had time to really think them through. “In the waiting room. I keep getting distracted thinking about her.”

Your therapist tilts her head, curious but not judgmental. “Someone in the waiting room?”

You nod, feeling a little foolish now that you’ve said it out loud. “Yeah. I don’t even know her name, but we’re always there at the same time. We’ve never talked, but today… today she looked at me differently.”

Your therapist stays quiet, letting you find your words. Her patience helps, but it also makes you feel exposed, like you’re admitting to something fragile and uncertain.

“And it just—it’s been stuck in my head,” you continue, your voice quieter now, as if saying it louder might make it too real. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You’re not sure what you want from this confession. Reassurance, maybe? Validation? Someone to tell you that you’re not losing your mind over a brief glance from a stranger?

Your therapist’s expression softens, but she doesn’t immediately dive into analysis. Instead, she asks, “What do you think it is about her that’s sticking with you? Is there something familiar, something that reminds you of yourself?”

The question lingers in the air between you, and you feel your chest tighten. It’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to fully consider. The way she looks at you. The way she seems just as weighed down by something invisible. The recognition, maybe, of pain.

“I don’t know,” you say, but the words don’t feel entirely true. “Maybe.”

Your therapist nods thoughtfully, but doesn’t press further. “It’s normal to connect with others in ways that might surprise us, especially when we’re going through difficult things ourselves. If she reminds you of something—of yourself, of a feeling—it’s okay to acknowledge that.”

You nod, but your mind is still racing. What is it that you see in her? Is it really just a reflection of your own pain, or is there something more? Something in the way she carries herself, the way her eyes met yours like she was trying to say something she couldn’t put into words.

“Do you want to explore that more?” your therapist asks gently. “Or would you rather focus on something else for now?”

You hesitate, feeling torn. Part of you wants to dig into it, to figure out why this woman has such a hold on your thoughts. But another part of you feels scared—scared of what you might find if you look too closely.

“I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I guess… I’m not sure if I’m ready to.”

Your therapist nods again, understanding. “That’s okay. We can take it at your pace. But if you want to talk about it more, we can always come back to it.”

You feel a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. Talking about her—about that glance, that moment—feels like opening a door you’re not sure you want to walk through. But at the same time, you know that you’ll think about it for the rest of the day. Maybe for longer than that.

As the session winds down, your mind is still preoccupied, but there’s a little more clarity now. Maybe it’s not just the glance itself that’s bothering you. Maybe it’s what that glance represents—the possibility that someone else sees you in a way you’re not used to being seen. That someone else might be carrying their own weight, just as heavy as yours.

And as you step out of the therapist’s office, back into the familiar waiting room, your eyes instinctively search for her. For the woman who has somehow taken up so much space in your mind.

But now, her seat is empty.

And suddenly, the room feels a little colder without her presence.

The week drags on in a strange, heavy haze. Every day, your mind keeps drifting back to her—back to that brief, fleeting glance that’s somehow managed to burrow deep under your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’re overthinking it, turning something meaningless into something monumental. You’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, hiding yourself behind carefully constructed walls, and now, one moment with a stranger has you spiraling into obsession.

You try to shake it off. You try to focus on work, on your routine, on anything but her. But it’s like a splinter in your mind. No matter how much you push it away, it’s always there, just under the surface. You catch yourself replaying the moment over and over again—the way her tired eyes locked with yours, the faintest flicker of recognition passing between you. Did she feel it too? Or are you imagining it?

On Wednesday, you find yourself walking past the clinic—deliberately, even though you don’t have an appointment. You glance through the glass door, half-expecting to see her sitting there, leg bouncing nervously, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. But the waiting room is empty, and the sight of it leaves you with a strange hollowness in your chest.

What if she doesn’t come back?

The thought gnaws at you. It’s irrational, but the possibility that you might never see her again—that this inexplicable connection could vanish as quickly as it appeared—makes you feel like something important has slipped through your fingers. Something you didn’t even realize you were missing.

Get it together. You need to move on.

But by Friday, the restlessness is back in full force. You find yourself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering. Wondering if she’s thinking about you too. Wondering if she felt the same pull, the same strange energy lingering between you.

Maybe you’ll never know. Maybe it’s better not to know.

But as the next week rolls around, you feel a nervous anticipation building in your chest. Your next appointment is coming up, and the thought of seeing her again—of what might happen this time—has your mind racing in a way that feels almost… dangerous.

What if she’s there?

What if she’s not?

The questions twist and turn inside you, and by the time your appointment day arrives, you’re practically buzzing with a nervous energy you can’t quite contain. You tell yourself it’s stupid, that you’re being irrational. You’re supposed to be focusing on your healing, not obsessing over some stranger you’ve never even spoken to. But the truth is, you haven’t felt this alive in a long time.

When you walk into the clinic, your eyes immediately sweep the waiting room. For a moment, the space feels empty, cold. But then, there she is—sitting in the same spot as always, her knee braced, her posture tense. She’s staring at her phone again, her fingers tapping the screen, but you notice the way her leg bounces restlessly. There’s a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in the way she’s holding herself, like the weight she’s carrying is a little heavier today.

You pause just inside the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You weren’t prepared for this, not really. Seeing her again feels like stepping into a current you can’t control. You want to look away, to keep pretending she’s just another person passing through your life. But instead, you find your gaze lingering on her, the same way it did last week.

And then, just like before, she looks up.

This time, there’s no hesitation in her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room falls away. The world outside fades, and all you can feel is the intensity of her stare, the weight of something unspoken passing between you. It’s like you’re both suspended in the same moment, tethered by something invisible and undeniable.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Should you smile? Look away? Say something? But before you can make a decision, she shifts in her seat, straightening up slightly, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite read. There’s recognition there, yes, but also something deeper. Something like understanding. Or maybe even… curiosity?

Your throat feels tight, your pulse quickening. You don’t know what to do with this feeling, this connection that seems to be growing stronger with every second you hold her gaze.

And then, she does something you didn’t expect.

She nods.

It’s subtle, just a small dip of her head, but it feels like a monumental shift. Like she’s acknowledging you—not just as a stranger, but as someone… more. Someone she’s noticed, someone she’s maybe been thinking about too.

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself nodding back. It feels awkward, stilted, but it’s the only thing you can think to do in the moment. It’s not much, but it’s something. A bridge, maybe. A connection.

You take a seat across from her, your body tense with nervous energy. You can feel her presence, like a subtle pull in the air between you. Neither of you speaks, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged, filled with all the things you’re not saying, all the questions you’re not asking.

The door to your therapist’s office opens, and her familiar voice calls your name. You stand up, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the waiting room, to leave her behind. But as you turn to head toward the office, you steal one last glance at her.

She’s still watching you.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t look away.

The session that follows is one of the hardest you’ve had in a long time. The therapist guides you through your memories with a gentle persistence, pushing you to confront parts of your past that you’ve been carefully avoiding. Today, it’s not just the weight of your own pain that feels unbearable—it’s the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long.

Your memories of childhood are raw, jagged, and unsettling. You find yourself reliving moments of fear and isolation, the sting of harsh words, the bruises you tried to hide. The sessions are usually a mix of distant recollections and present-day reflections, but today, the past crashes into you with a force that makes it hard to breathe. Your mother’s anger, her frustration, her harsh words—they’re all too close, too real. It’s like the boundaries between then and now have dissolved, leaving you exposed and trembling.

When the session ends, you barely manage to pull yourself together. Your eyes are red, streaked with tears, and your face feels hot and heavy with emotion. You nod to your therapist, a wordless acknowledgment of the work you’ve done. You need air—space to breathe and let the turmoil inside you settle.

You stumble out of the office, the hallway seeming longer than usual. You make your way to the clinic’s entrance, your steps unsteady, your mind still tangled in the remnants of painful memories. The cool air hits your face, and you stop just outside the door, letting it wash over you. It feels like a fleeting reprieve from the storm raging inside.

And then, you see her.

She’s standing there, just outside the door, her back to you. You recognize her immediately—Alexia. She’s wrapped in a coat, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. You can see her shoulders trembling slightly, and as you watch, she turns and looks at you. Her eyes are red and swollen, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken understanding. You can see the same rawness in her face that you feel in your own. It’s as if both of you are caught in the aftermath of a storm, trying to find a way to navigate the wreckage.

Alexia takes a step toward you, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she says softly, her voice wavering. There’s a tremor in her tone, like she’s struggling to keep herself composed.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. The sight of her—so open, so unguarded—strikes a chord deep within you. It’s not just about the glance you shared or the way you’ve been obsessing over her. It’s something deeper, something you’ve been grappling with in your own way.

“I…” you start, but the words fail you. Instead, you take a tentative step toward her, the distance between you shrinking as you both stand in the cold air, the weight of your shared pain hanging in the space around you.

Alexia looks down, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been coming here for a while. I didn’t think anyone noticed.” She pauses, her eyes meeting yours again, filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. “You looked at me today like you understood something. I felt the same way.”

Her words hit you hard, echoing the thoughts that have been circling your mind all week. It’s as if she’s voicing the unspoken connection you both felt—the shared weight, the recognition of each other’s pain.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you finally say, your voice rough from the emotions you’ve been grappling with. “I just… I saw something in you. I don’t know what it was, but it felt familiar.”

Alexia nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s strange,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “I’ve felt like I was carrying this alone. And then you came in, and for some reason, it felt like… like maybe someone else understood.”

The shared understanding between you deepens, and you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you’ve felt. The connection you’ve both sensed, the unspoken recognition—it’s not just in your head. It’s real, and it’s giving you both a moment of connection that you’ve been craving.

Without thinking, you reach out, offering her a small, hesitant smile. “If you want to talk… or if you just need someone to be here,” you offer, your voice steadying despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Alexia’s gaze softens, and she nods. “I’d like that,” she says quietly. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Part 2

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