#Emotional Blackmail

[crazycatsiren]

Your character and personality aren't defined by which fundraiser you reblog or don't reblog on Tumblr, by the way.

Like, for reals, no social media platform is a judgement of ethics and morality.

We have lives offline.

The internet is just the internet. It doesn't determine who we are as people.

[furiousgoldfish]

me as a child when I realized my parents will punish me by withdrawing all parental love and affection: FINE! I don't WANT any! I literally don't want anyone to look at me or hug me ever again! I wouldn't accept it if offered! I don't need any of you! I don't need to be loved by ANYONE!!!

me thinking back on it now: it was the correct thing to not give in to such blackmail. But I did need love, like all children do, and nobody thought I didn't, no matter what I said back then. I shouldn't have been in a situation where someone tried to control me by taking away basic care from me. I stubbornly tried not to have needs but nobody was fooled. I was emotionally abandoned and dealt with it the best way I could back then. I needed actual parents, not those sadistic clowns.

[sadhappylady]

Can we also talk a little about Kristina this season?

The manipulation and emotional blackmailing of Wille had me so furious!

Calling him to say she cannot handle this anymore! What about Wille? How is he supposed to handle it? He also lost Erik, and in addition he was outed to the world in such a horrenduous way, and then he was pushed into the closet and lost Simon because of that. And even if he won Simon back, he is under constant pressure.

And Kristina has the audacity to put the responsibility of the Crown on his shoulders! To carry alone, with no support.

I know she is grieving and that she is trying her best. But her best is not good enough!

The way I screamed when Wille called her out on her bad parenting!

[family-trauma]

There's nothing really subtle about it, atleast what I'm facing.

[girlw-amermaidtattoo]

Her voice was like silk, wrapping around his mind, tightening with every word. “Imagine,” she whispered, “the entire world seeing you for what you really are… so small, so pitiful. Every inch of your pathetic body laid bare for their amusement.”

He trembled, breath hitching.

“But there’s a way out,” she purred, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “You could beg me not to share. You could offer me everything, just to keep that precious secret safe.” Her hand lightly traced his jaw. “Wouldn’t it feel so good to be spared… if only you were generous enough?”

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 1

Started a new AU called Affectionate Obsession, with Steve Rogers as the first Character Story Series to be told I hope you all enjoy and don't be afraid to tell me what you think.

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

The low hum of the factory machinery buzzed in my ears as I sat in the breakroom, staring at the sad sandwich I’d slapped together this morning. How did I end up here? After years of hard work and late-night study sessions, my Finance degree didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Instead of crunching numbers and living the life I’d dreamed of, I was here—packaging cardboard boxes and watching my future slip away.

I glanced down at my phone, a knot forming in my throat. Rent was coming up in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape the money together. The thought of moving back in with my parents twisted my stomach in knots. No way could I go back to their judgmental looks, the snide remarks about my life choices, or their constant need to belittle everything I’ve done. I'd rather sleep on a park bench than deal with that.

My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked down at the screen and felt my heart sink a little deeper.

Sharon.

Of all the people who could be reaching out, she was the last person I expected—or wanted—to hear from. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and that was by design. Things between us hadn’t ended well, and the fact that she was contacting me now couldn’t mean anything good.

With a sigh, I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Wow, you actually picked up," Sharon's voice dripped with that same smugness that always made me grit my teeth. "I wasn’t sure if you were still alive."

I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting answering. "Yeah, still kicking. How are you?" I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

"Fabulous, of course." Her voice was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. "Anyway, I’ll get to the point. A few of us are going on a trip—Maldives. One-month private villa. You should come."

I blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. A month-long vacation in the Maldives? Out of nowhere?

"Uh… I don’t think I can," I muttered, the discomfort rising up my spine. "I’m working right now, and I can’t afford a trip like that."

There was a brief silence, followed by Sharon’s familiar, annoyed huff. "Steve’s paying for everything, so don’t worry about that."

As if money was the only issue. I shook my head, feeling my frustration rise. "It’s not just about money. I can’t take off from work for two months."

"Why not?" she snapped, sounding genuinely confused, like the concept of having to work to survive was foreign to her. "Just quit."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. "I can’t just quit, Sharon. I need this job. Some of us actually have bills to pay."

"Whatever," she sighed, clearly losing interest. "Look, if you change your mind, you’ve got three months to figure it out. We’re leaving in July."

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smart remark. "I’ll let you know."

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. Why now? Why was Sharon suddenly interested in inviting me on this extravagant trip after all this time? After everything that happened?

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I shook off the nagging feeling. Whatever she and her clique were up to, I wasn’t about to fall for it. Not this time.

I had more pressing things to worry about—like making it through the rest of my shift without falling apart.

***

Three weeks after Sharon’s call, I found myself standing in the manager’s office, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Budget cuts,” Diane said flatly, as if that explained everything.

“But I’m the only one being fired,” I pointed out, confusion mixing with anger. “How does that make sense?”

Diane shrugged, clearly uninterested. “It’s just how things are.”

I knew better than to push back too much, but it still gnawed at me. Budget cuts? No way. This factory wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but I’d seen plenty of new hires lately. So why me?

As I walked out of her office, I thought back to the time I’d corrected Diane on… well, something trivial. She’d been going on about a new process we had to follow, and I’d pointed out a mistake in her instructions. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I remembered she’d gone all red in the face, tight-lipped, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate being corrected, but it seemed like she was over it.

Did she have something to do with this? It didn’t make sense. I was practically invisible at the factory. Why would she care?

Still, it stung. Whatever the real reason, I was out of a job.

A few weeks later, my luck hadn’t changed. I spent every waking moment job hunting, praying something would come through before the end of the month. But it didn’t.

When it became clear I couldn’t afford my rent anymore, I had to make a decision: drown in debt or swallow my pride and move back in with my parents.

I hated the idea. But bills were piling up, and the pressure was too much, so I chose my parents.

The moment I walked through the door with my boxes, my mom took it upon herself to help me unpack—which, of course, meant a nonstop commentary on all the poor decisions I’d made in life.

“I told you this would happen,” she said, folding one of my shirts with military precision. “You never listen. You should have stayed closer to home, gone into something practical. But no, you wanted to follow your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. It was always the same speech: how I should’ve done this, should’ve done that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. But I stayed quiet, nodding along while she reminded me just how incapable I was.

I’d been living with my parents for a month and a half now, and I was at my breaking point. Their constant nagging, the tension, the way they hovered over me—it was driving me insane. I needed out.

One week before Sharon and the girls were set to leave for the Maldives, I caved. Desperation took over, and I found myself texting Sharon, asking if there was still space for me on the trip.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to respond. But then, there it was: a yes. Along with a list of things to pack and an address of where to meet them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a second. I was actually going to do this. Anything to get away from my parents.

When I told them about the trip, their reaction was immediate approval. Of course, the second they heard Sharon and Steve would be there, they were practically pushing me out the door.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” my mom beamed. “Sharon’s such a successful young woman. You should really try to get back on her good side.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course they loved Sharon. She was everything they wanted me to be—successful, put together, and always in the right circles. And Steve? They practically worshiped the guy. The heir to a tech empire. Who wouldn’t?

“Just make sure there’s no more falling outs this time,” my dad added, like I’d ever intentionally ruined things with Sharon.

I remembered the first time I told them about our fallout. They acted like I’d told them I was addicted to drugs, and they never really forgave me for it.

Now, it seemed I was being given a second chance to make everything “right.”

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but at this point, I’d do anything to get away from here.

***

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might be some elaborate prank. I half-expected to show up and find a hidden camera crew waiting to embarrass me. But here I was, standing in front of a private jet, struggling with my heavy luggage.

“Need a hand?” a man’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could even respond, he was already taking my bags, prying them from my grip with an ease that felt almost dismissive.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, watching him haul the luggage up the steps of the jet. Was this even real?

Inside, Sharon was waiting, her bright smile as fake as I remembered. “Kiwi! Oh my God, look at you!” Her eyes swept over me, lingering on all the wrong places. “Still… you,” she added, her tone too sharp to be anything close to nice.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting back the instinct to roll my eyes. Same old Sharon. Still poking at me for being shorter and curvier than the rest of them. “Still me.”

I looked to Natasha, Jane and Pepper and waved before following them into the Private Jet.

Sharon smirked, gesturing toward the jet's sleek interior. “Welcome aboard. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve ridden in anything like this?”

I didn’t bother with a response. There were a million reasons why I didn’t fly on private jets, one being that I couldn’t afford too, but it wasn’t worth the energy. I followed Sharon inside, catching sight of the group lounging around like they belonged there.

Steve was the first to greet me, his golden hair practically glowing in the soft light as he flashed that easy smile. “Hey, Kiwi,” he said, patting the seat beside him. His tone was friendly—maybe a little too friendly—but I hesitated. Before I could move, Natasha grabbed my arm and steered me toward a different seat.

“We saved you a spot over here!” Natasha chimed, squeezing my arm with just a bit too much excitement. She shot a quick glance at Steve, then back at me, like there was something I wasn’t picking up on.

Peter was already seated across from me, leaning back with a casual confidence that made me uncomfortable. His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and he gave a small nod. There was nothing awkward or out of place about him—if anything, he looked like he belonged here. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Glad you could make it,” Peter said, his voice smooth and low. There was something about the way he said it, something that felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The conversations around me were light, but every now and then, I’d catch something—a quick glance between Steve and Peter, a soft chuckle from one of the boys, or Sharon’s eyes sparkling with something that wasn’t amusement. It felt like they were all in on something, like the air was thick with an inside joke I wasn’t a part of.

I tried to brush it off, joining in on the small talk and ignoring the strange tension. But with every shared look between the boys, every lingering gaze from Sharon, that unease just kept creeping back.

It was like they were waiting for something.

Something I wasn’t in on.

***

I stirred awake to the gentle shake of my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. “Hey, Kiwi, we’ve landed,” Natasha said, with a small grin, wiping her own hands on her lap. “You’ve got a little drool there.”

Still groggy, I wiped at the side of my mouth, feeling my face flush as I tried to erase the evidence of my nap. I sat up, blinking a few times, trying to get my bearings. When I looked around, I noticed the plane was emptier than before.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

Natasha stretched, her arms raising above her head. “They already headed to the villa. I guess they didn’t want to disturb you.”

I glanced over at Peter, still slouched in his seat, eyes closed, completely knocked out. The soft rise and fall of his chest made him look so peaceful, like the weight of the world wasn’t even a concern. He hadn’t noticed anything either.

Natasha smirked, shrugging. “I felt bad leaving you two alone, so I stayed back.”

I looked between Natasha and Peter, my stomach twisting. “Oh… right,” I muttered, feeling a familiar awkwardness settle over me. My head dropped slightly. It wasn’t the first time I felt like an outsider with these people, but moments like this seemed to make it worse.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. Then she moved toward Peter, giving him a nudge. He jolted awake, eyes wide as if he had no idea where he was. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice a little too casual.

Natasha repeated the same thing she told me, though this time, there was a teasing edge to her tone. “They left for the villa, but I didn’t want to leave you two sleeping on the plane.”

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair, giving a lazy stretch before standing up. I wondered if I was overthinking things, but Natasha’s earlier look stayed in the back of my mind.

“Alright, let’s catch up,” Peter said, flashing that easygoing smile of his.

As soon as I stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air hit me, carrying the scent of the ocean and sun. Waiting outside was a sleek black car, ready to take us to the villa. Peter led the way, while Natasha shot me an encouraging smile, like she knew exactly what I was thinking but wouldn’t say it out loud.

But once we got in the car, the excitement that had been bubbling inside me during the plane ride started to fizzle. Reality was sinking in, fast. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred by, and that familiar, sinking feeling crept in.

What am I even doing here?

Every part of me was screaming that this was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. These people had made me feel out of place back then—why would now be any different? I had spent so much time trying to distance myself from them, so why was I here now, in the same circle that made me feel like I wasn’t enough?

Was it going to be like this the entire trip? A constant feeling of not fitting in? The idea of spending two months like this, constantly questioning why I came, made my chest tighten.

I imagined stopping the car right there, getting out, and figuring out a way to go home. But how? I came here with them, and I was stuck until they decided to leave. There wasn’t exactly an easy way out.

I sighed, feeling a knot form in my throat as the tears threatened to well up. But I fought them back, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ‘Hold it together,’ I told myself. There was no way I was going to fall apart in front of Peter, Natasha, or anyone else.

I stared out at the horizon, the villa still nowhere in sight, trying to clear the anxious storm swirling inside me. I would just have to figure this out somehow. I always did.

***

When Natasha, Peter, and I finally arrived at the villa, the others had already claimed their rooms. The place was breathtaking—open spaces, stunning ocean views, and a luxurious atmosphere that screamed money. I was almost tempted to be impressed until Sharon appeared, smug as ever, pointing to the far side of the villa.

"Natasha, Peter, your rooms are down the hall," she said with a wave of her hand before turning to me. Without a word or explanation, she just motioned to the other side of the villa, not even bothering to look me in the eye.

I stood there for a second, waiting for...something. Maybe an explanation, a reason for the sudden isolation, but nothing. No one said anything. Natasha gave me a quick, apologetic glance, but even she stayed quiet.

“Guess I'm on my own then.”

I walked in the direction Sharon had pointed, my suitcase bumping against my heels as I made my way down the corridor. The villa was massive, sprawling in all directions, but as I got closer to my room, I noticed how much plainer and utilitarian the space became. The opulence of the rest of the villa seemed to vanish the farther I went.

And then I found it—a small, one-off room that looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. My stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It didn’t have the same elegance as the other rooms I’d seen. The furniture was basic, the decor minimal, and there was no sign of the luxury that was displayed on the other side of the villa.

It looked like a remodeled servant’s quarter. I knew the vibe all too well. Being around people like Sharon, I had seen enough servant quarters to know what one looked like, no matter how much they tried to pretty it up.

I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. There had to be at least one or two other rooms left over in this massive villa, but I wasn’t given one of those. No, this room was chosen specifically for me. The message was loud and clear: *Know your place. *

I set my suitcase down with a sigh, biting back the frustration swelling in my chest. I should have expected this. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the invite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my half-unpacked suitcase, trying to figure out a game plan for the next two months. The thought of spending all that time with these people—people who barely knew me, or worse, remembered me only for what I wasn’t—made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to be ignored the entire trip, but becoming a complete recluse would probably just make things worse. What if they just... left me behind?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of the room. My anxiety gnawed at me from the inside. Was this really worth getting away from my parents?

Before I could spiral any further, a light knock on the doorframe jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Natasha standing there with a soft smile and a casual “Hey.”

I forced a smile in return. "Hey," I said, trying to sound less flustered than I felt.

Natasha stepped inside, looking around the room before glancing back at me. “Nice room,” she commented.

I glanced at her, trying to figure out if she was joking. Was she being serious? Because this room—my room—was anything but nice. It was clearly the smallest, most tucked-away space in the entire villa. My little corner of the world, far from everyone else.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

“They’re about to get ready for lunch in like two minutes,” Natasha added, a little too breezily, as if she hadn’t noticed how awkward this all felt.

"Okay," I said, figuring that was her cue to leave. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on me, like she was waiting for something.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. “Was there… something else?” I asked, hesitantly, trying to figure out what this impromptu visit was really about.

Natasha took a deep breath, still staring me down before stating “Sharon invited you to keep Peter busy.”

  I froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief as Natasha’s words settled in. "Wait… what do you mean I was invited to keep Peter busy?"

Natasha’s shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before facing me again "Look, it wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Sharon didn’t want things to be awkward, you know? If you didn’t come, there would've been an odd number, and Steve didn’t want to leave Peter behind."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, I was invited to… what? Be Peter’s distraction?”

She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You two are both nice people, right? It’s not like it was meant to offend you or anything"

I stared at her, still trying to process this. Peter? Then it hit me.

"What about Clementine?" I asked, my curiosity spiking. Last I heard, she and Peter were still together. Sure, she hadn’t been on the plane, but I figured maybe she was meeting up with us later. They were inseparable, after all.

Natasha shrugged again, but there was something uneasy in her eyes this time. "I don’t know. Sharon thinks they broke up, but…"

"But?" I pressed, sensing there was more to it.

She sighed, glancing away. "Clementine kind of just… disappeared. She stopped coming around, and Peter stopped talking about her. It’s weird, though. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened."

The room suddenly felt colder, and the walls seemed to close in again. Clementine disappeared? And now I was supposed to… what? Be Peter's distraction? None of this made sense, and yet, it felt like I was being pulled into something I wasn’t ready for.

I stared at Natasha, my mind spinning as she casually shrugged off the fact that Clementine had just disappeared. Clementine wasn’t the kind of girl to just vanish without a trace. She was... put together. Confident, smart, driven. The kind of girl who had her entire life mapped out from the moment she could walk.

Clementine had been a scholarship kid, just like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. She had that type of grace and poise that people like me only dreamed of. I remember seeing her around campus, always looking so polished, so in control, even though she came from a background as modest as mine. She had Peter wrapped around her finger—he adored her. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. They were practically inseparable.

The last time I heard anything about her, she was starting some fancy job after graduation, and Peter was supposedly gearing up to propose. That’s what people like Clementine did. She climbed the ladder, no matter where she came from, and she always seemed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did she go from being Peter’s "forever" to just... disappearing? And now *I* was here? Supposed to "keep Peter busy" like some sort of replacement? None of this was making any sense.

Natasha’s voice brought me back to the moment. "Yeah, it was weird, right?" she continued, leaning back casually. "Peter just stopped mentioning her, like she never existed. He’s been pretty chill about the whole thing. But Sharon thinks they broke up, and... I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re here."

I shook my head, trying to process. "Clementine wouldn’t just disappear. She wasn’t like that. She had a plan, she was going to—"

Natasha cut me off. "Well, plans change, right? Maybe she wasn’t as perfect as you think. People always hide stuff. Maybe Peter saw something in her that no one else did."

The idea didn’t sit right with me. Clementine always seemed untouchable, like she had everything figured out. Now, she was just… gone. And here I was, caught in some ridiculous plan to "keep Peter busy."

I started gearing up to confront Sharon, but Natasha quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me before I could make it to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I just want to have a little chat with Sharon," I replied, trying to sidestep her. But Natasha moved again, blocking me. She lowered her voice, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"You're being ridiculous. Just calm down and think about this." Her eyes darted around nervously. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You could still enjoy yourself, Kiwi."

I paused and turned to face her, frustration bubbling up. "That was always the plan, but why did you have to tell me about Sharon’s little setup with Peter?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was sharp.

"I was just giving you a heads up," Natasha said softly, her eyes pleading.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I couldn’t just let it go. Without saying another word, I turned and marched toward Sharon and Steve’s room, Natasha trailing behind me, still begging me to think it through.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate—I slammed it open. There, on top of Steve, was Sharon, practically tangled up with him. She scrambled off him the second she saw me, her face flushed. Steve, on the other hand, just stayed where he was, smirking like the whole thing was a joke to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sharon snapped, straightening out her clothes.

I didn’t flinch. "I want to go home."

I thought about calling her out right then and there, exposing the whole plan about setting me up with Peter. But I couldn’t do that—not without throwing Natasha under the bus. As much as I was irritated with her, I wasn’t ready to burn that bridge. So I kept it simple.

"This whole trip has been uncomfortable for me since I got on the plane. If it’s going to be like this for a whole months I don’t want to stay."

Sharon's expression shifted, her irritation melting into a smirk. "Sure, whatever."

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Steve’s deep voice cut through the air. "No."

I froze, watching as Steve got up from the bed, his frame towering over me. It was then that I realized how much bigger he was compared to me. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

"Why not?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave me a cold, calculated smile. "The itinerary is already set, Kiwi. We can’t just change everything around because one person is feeling a little uncomfortable."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll pay you back," I offered, even though I knew it was a desperate move.

Steve laughed, a low, mocking sound. "You have over a hundred grand to pay back?"

My stomach dropped as he kept going. "I heard you were working at some factory for, what, twenty bucks an hour? I’m guessing since you suddenly had time for this trip, you lost that gig, huh?"

I could feel my face flushing as I tried to think of a way out. "I don’t need a private jet home," I said quietly. "Just a ride and an economy seat. I’ll figure it out."

Steve shook his head, stepping even closer. "You still owe me for your part of the trip," he said, his voice cold and final.

The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped, and Steve was making damn sure I knew it.

Steve’s eyes softened as he stood in front of me, his posture relaxed, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat. He moved to block my way, but not in an intimidating way—it felt more like he was trying to keep me from making a mistake.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. “I get it, Kiwi, I really do. But leaving right now? That’s not what you really want.”

I frowned, crossing my arms, my defenses already up. “I’m uncomfortable, Steve. Why would I stay?”

He sighed softly, brushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Look, I get that things have been a little weird, but think about it. Going back home, what’s waiting for you there? Things weren’t exactly great, were they?”

I blinked, surprised by his words. It was vague, but it still struck a nerve. My chest tightened at the reminder of how suffocating life at home had been.

Steve stepped closer, but there was no malice in his movements. If anything, his presence felt like it was wrapping around me, enveloping me in something familiar yet foreign.

“Why rush back to all that?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender. “You’ve got a chance here to take a break, to really breathe.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He wasn’t exactly wrong. I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going back to my parents’ house—being treated like I’d failed, like I was just in the way.

“That’s not the point,” I muttered, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be. “I didn’t come here to feel like an outsider.”

Steve’s expression shifted, softening even more. He moved closer, but not threateningly—just enough to let me know he was serious. “You don’t have to. No one here is against you, Kiwi. You’ve got space here to be free, to enjoy yourself. You’re not stuck.”

His words, smooth and almost too perfect, started to chip away at my defenses. He wasn’t wrong. There was a kind of freedom here that I didn’t have back home. No hovering parents, no endless job hunt. Just sun, sand, and a chance to let go of the chaos.

“I just want you to give it a shot,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “If, after a week, you still feel like this… I’ll make sure you get home. Personally. But for now, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I hesitated, my mind a tug-of-war between the stress and frustration that had been building and the calm that Steve was offering. He seemed so reasonable, so understanding. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe I needed to take a step back and see if things improved.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I’ll stay. But just for a week.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, his satisfaction clear, though he tried to hide it behind his cool demeanor. “Good. I knew you’d see things my way.”

He stepped back, giving me space, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift just a little. Natasha, who had been quietly watching, caught my eye, but her expression was hard to read. Maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. Or maybe I was just overthinking everything.

Am I making the right call? ***

Steve moved me out of the servant’s quarters and into a small, luxury room. It wasn’t anywhere near the others, but it was closer to the pool in the back, so I figured I could make do. At least it didn’t feel like a forgotten corner of the house.

As I unpacked, Natasha stayed with me, folding clothes and organizing things like she was trying to smooth over the mess from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not entirely sure if I believed her or if she was just trying to stay on good terms. The side-eye I gave her must’ve said enough because she added, “Seriously, Kiwi. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I sighed, my shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s fine,” I muttered. "Just... don’t spring shit like that on me again."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. “I promise. I just want you to enjoy the trip. We all do.”

Enjoy the trip. Right. That’s what I kept telling myself. I needed to enjoy myself, no matter what. To hell with everyone else. To hell with Sharon’s power plays and the thinly veiled insults. To hell with my parents, and their endless nagging about how I should’ve been more like Sharon. To hell with all of it.

I glanced around my new room, taking in the sleek design, the comfortable bed, and the view of the pool. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe I could actually breathe for a while. Just focus on enjoying the sun, the beach, the space.

Yeah. Fuck everyone. I was going to make this trip mine.

[whumpshaped]

@bobtheskeleton asked:

What about... A whumpee turned whumper and their whumpee being the caretaker?

---

tw whumpee turned whumper, caretaker turned whumpee, manipulation, emotional blackmail, past trauma

“Don’t you want me to get better?” Whumpee asked with a terrifyingly sweet smile on their face, and Caretaker took a step backwards. “You know all about what I have gone through. All the torture… All the humiliation… All that pain and misery…”

“Whumpee,” they breathed, taking another step away from their… friend. “Of course I want you to get better. And I’m really sorry that you’ve gone through so much–”

“You’re not really sorry. It’s not your fault, of course, you can’t really empathise unless you’ve gone through it yourself. And you can’t really help me unless you know what it feels like.” They continued closing the distance between them, and Caretaker was soon backed up against the wall. Cornered. “If you want to help me get better, I think you need to learn to empathise.”

“Whumpee, I have so much empathy for you, that’s not how empathy works–”

“Why are you being so condescending to me?” Whumpee asked with a pout. 

“I’m– I’m not– I’m being desperate, you’re scaring me–” 

Caretaker cut themself off and pressed back against the wall even more when Whumpee grabbed something off the top of the drawers next to them, especially when they realised it was a pretty heavy vase, something they’d used to joke was a self-defence weapon. Whumpee wasn’t going to hit them with that, were they? They weren’t going to seriously harm them… right?

“You’re being condescending. I know what empathy is. I know big words, contrary to what Whumper liked to preach. I’m not actually a dumb pet. Or did you believe that too? Maybe the people who haven’t been victims of such a thing can only ever agree with the perpetrator, deep down.”

Caretaker’s heart was hammering in their chest as they watched Whumpee play with the vase and try out different grips, as if seeing which would be best if they were to use it as a torture instrument. “Of course you’re not a dumb pet,” they whispered. “Whumpee, I love you. I would never agree with someone who has done something so heinous. If you’re not satisfied with the way I’ve been treating you, we can talk about it, you can vent all your frustration, I’ll listen. I’ll try to do better.”

“You can’t do better without first-hand experience. That’s what I keep telling you, and see? You’re not listening.”

“I am! I am listening, I just– I disagree–”

Whumpee cocked their head to the side. “You disagree. I’m telling you what I need to get better, and you disagree. You think you’re a lot smarter than me, don’t you? You think you know better, as an unbiased, outside observer. You don’t think I could actually know what’s best for me.”

“Knocking me out is not good for anyone. Please. I can help you so much better when I’m conscious, I promise.”

Whumpee seemed to at least consider that sentiment. Caretaker didn’t even breathe as they waited for the verdict. Would they be knocked out, tied up, held captive, and tortured? Would they not? Their stomach was in knots as they thought about all the messed up shit they knew Whumpee had gone through, and all the additional things they could’ve kept secret. What would happen to them if Whumpee got their way? If Whumpee were to teach them empathy?

“Will you call the police on me if I put this down?” Whumpee asked eventually, nodding towards the vase in their hand.

“No. No. I just want to talk. Just the two of us. Please. We’re friends, aren’t we? We can just talk.”

“See, I would’ve called the cops at the first opportunity that arose when I was with Whumper.” Whumpee lifted the vase above their head, ready to strike. “You need to understand that sort of desperation.”

[coochiequeens]

Great now transbians can force their way into lesbian dating apps

Daisy Dumas Thu 22 Aug 2024 20.18 EDT

A transgender woman who sued a women-only social media app for alleged gender discrimination has been awarded $10,000 plus costs after a judge found she had been indirectly discriminated against in a landmark decision that tested the meaning and scope of the Sex Discrimination Act.

Roxanne Tickle, a transgender woman from regional New South Wales, sued the social media platform Giggle for Girls and its CEO, Sall Grover, claiming she was unlawfully barred from using the app in 2021 after the firm and Grover said she was a man.

On Friday morning, the federal court justice Robert Bromwich said the respondents had considered “sex” to mean an unchangeable sex of a person at birth.

“These arguments failed because the view propounded by the respondents conflicted with a long history of cases decided by courts going back over 30 years. Those … cases established that on its ordinary meaning sex is changeable,” he said.

Onboarding to the app required the user to upload a selfie verified as female by KairosAI gender detection software and then by Grover.

Tickle was barred after initially being allowed to join the platform – which was shut down in August 2022.

The judge said the evidence did not establish Tickle was excluded from Giggle directly “by reason of her gender identity although it remains possible that this was the real but unproven reason”.

Rather, the indirect discrimination case succeeded because Tickle was excluded from the use of the social media app “because she did not look sufficiently female”.

Bromwich disagreed with Grover and Giggle’s arguments about the constitutionality of the protections for gender identity in the act – in line with the position of the sex discrimination commissioner.

Tickle had sought damages and aggravated damages amounting to $200,000, claiming that persistent misgendering by Grover resulted in constant anxiety and occasional suicidal thoughts.

See rest of article

[unwelcome-ozian]

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I once had a friend who practiced blackmail: perhaps we have all had one. Mine would sometimes ask me to cancel an engagement in order to type a manuscript for him, then arrive toward midnight, the piece still unwritten, and explain that I could type it between four and six A.M., and why was I pulling that long face; not only upon me but upon anyone who would play along, he made demand after absurd demand. “Just this once,” he would say, hinting darkly at “emergencies,” “deadlines,” “saving my life.” Our occasional protests would draw forth no retractions but only impassioned apologies, colored with vivid intimations of his undiagnosed ulcers. (Other times it was angina, and on his most imaginative days it was cirrhosis.)

“Some of us loved him and some of us did not, but whether we did or not we all acquiesced, helpless before the undertone his every plea carried: I need you. We acquiesced neither because he was charming (most of the time he was notably not) nor because he was a good and generous man (I think he probably was), but simply because he was bold enough or amoral enough or scared enough to make use of what exists in almost every heart: the potentially disabling fear of failure—in some cases neurotic, in others well-founded. I can't count on you, he would complain if thwarted, salting what was for some of us an ugly raw wound. We would see in his reproachful eyes, suddenly, the sister we had failed, the friend we had hurt—all the opportunities for goodness or glory or marks in heaven we had ever muffed, miserably. In brief, he could expose us to ourselves, and we quite flatly bought him off.”

Joan Didion

Vogue

[follies of god]

[plzturnmeoutceral]

While I was 21, I had talked with someone I met online for quite some time.

They lived in my area and I thought was extremely attractive.. well it turned out I was being cat fished. Multiple teens were catfishing me and started blackmailing me… I had to get them stuff and do what they wanted as I was stuck due ti the pics and videos I sent them that included my face….

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Joseph Figliolia and Leor Sapir

Published: May 14, 2024

Ted Hudacko’s fate was sealed when his son’s court-appointed counsel, Daniel Harkins, wrote in his notes, “[t]hese parents have a choice, they can either continue to believe that they should be in total control of their child’s life or they can come to an understanding that those days are past . . . and give their children some independence and the ability to make some of their own decisions.”

The decisions in question? Whether to start Hudacko’s trans-identified 16-year-old son on a puberty-blocker regimen, followed by a course of estrogen.

As Abigail Shrier recounted in a 2022 City Journal investigative report, shortly after returning from a trip to New York with their two sons, Hudacko’s wife, Christine, told him that she wanted a divorce—and that their oldest son identified as transgender. During divorce proceedings, the presiding judge, Joni Hiramoto, granted Hudacko shared legal and physical custody of his youngest, but stripped him of all custody of his trans-identified son. Hudacko was concerned about administering experimental drugs and preferred to wait and see if his son’s gender issues might resolve on their own, as usually happens in such cases. To the California judge, this confirmed his unfitness as a father.

Hiramoto’s view is shared by a growing social movement bent on deeming parents “abusive” for declining to “affirm” their child’s “gender identity.” The idea that failing to endorse a child’s identity constitutes psychological abuse has spread across major American institutions and power centers and is reflected in recent court precedent, school “social transition” policies, journal publications, and several proposed state laws. Illinois’s House Bill 4876, for example, would redefine child abuse to include denying minors “necessary medical . . . gender-affirming services,” meaning parents who take a more cautious approach to their child’s dysphoria—an approach endorsed by a growing number of European countries—could become targets of investigation by the Illinois Department of Children and Families, with some even losing custody.

The Biden administration is seeking to entrench this redefinition of “abuse” with its recently published foster-care regulations. Guided by misleading characterizations and omissions of existing research, the new rules from the Administration for Children and Families (ACF) enshrine activist talking points about what constitutes a child’s “best interest,” with dire implications for foster children and parents alike.

Under the new rules, state agencies must follow specific protocols when placing “LGBTQI+” foster children in residential settings. Given what the ACF describes as the “specific needs” of these children, the agency requires federally funded providers to qualify as “Designated Placements” to serve such youth. To obtain this designation, providers must undergo specialized gender-identity and sexual-orientation training, facilitate access to “age- or developmentally appropriate resources, services, and activities that support the [child’s] health and well-being,” and “commit to establishing an environment that supports the child’s LGBTQI+ status or identity.” State foster agencies, to get federal funds, must develop and submit to the ACF case plans that ensure each child is placed in the most “appropriate setting available.”

Repeating popular activist talking points, the ACF claims that refusing to use a child’s chosen name and pronouns is linked with poor mental-health outcomes. The agency then follows a familiar pattern of citing self-reported survey data to show a supposed connection between “gender affirmation” and positive mental-health outcomes in trans-identifying kids. Surveys of this kind, however, cannot support the ACF’s conclusion that “significant mental health disparities” facing “LGBTQI+” youth “result from experiences of stigma and discrimination.”

One of the ACF’s sources, a research brief from the Trevor Project, claims that “LGBTQ youth” who say they have been in foster care had nearly three times greater odds than non-foster youth of reporting a past-year suicide attempt (notably, the final rules incorrectly cite the wrong Trevor Project survey for this claim instead of the correct survey cited in the proposed rules). The agency’s purpose in citing this study is to imply that youth suicidality is driven by how foster parents deal with the “gender identity” of those in their care. But the correlation has an alternative explanation: Youth who enter the foster system have more adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) than do non-foster children, a fact linked to increased suicidality. It’s possible that foster youth with more ACEs and higher suicidality are also more likely to adopt a transgender identity as a maladaptive coping mechanism. This makes sense, given the weakness of the “minority stress” hypothesis and the mounting evidence of elevated rates of co-occurring, suicidality-linked conditions in trans-identified populations that predate their trans-identification.

The U.K.’s recent Cass report bolsters this view. In that review, foster youth were overrepresented in the first clinical cohort seen at the nation’s gender-identity clinic, with nearly a quarter of referrals having spent time in foster care. A systematic review cited in the report found that among children referred to gender clinics, maternal mental illness (53 percent) and substance abuse (49 percent), paternal mental illness (38 percent) and substance use (38 percent), and combined neglect and abuse (11 percent to 67 percent), were very common—meaning that kids at the clinic likely had a higher-than-average number of ACEs, and may have identified as transgender as a coping mechanism.

A different survey question in the same ACF-cited brief tries to establish that trans-identified foster youth are “kicked out, abandoned, or run away” at disproportionate rates because of their “gender identity.” The survey question, though, conflates running away with being kicked out or abandoned; the actual reason for running away is not specified, and the results are not reported separately for each item. The group even disclaimed that its “data isn’t [sic] able to establish whether youth were kicked out, abandoned, or ran away prior to, during, or after being in foster care.” All we can conclude from this survey is that youth in foster care, who, for whatever reason, experience dissociation from their bodies or their sex are more likely to report negative family experiences compared with their peers.

Apparently unphased by these issues, the ACF used another Trevor Project survey to justify the agency’s claim that living in supportive homes results in fewer suicide attempts among trans-identified youth. Significantly, though, the Trevor Project report does not define the term “support,” effectively leaving it up to the child respondents to define it for themselves. Based on the most common ways youth in a separate item self-reported feeling supported—having parents use the correct names and pronouns, and supporting their gender expression—however, it seems reasonable to conclude that the respondents often conceive of “support” as affirming their identity. “Un-supportive” parents could therefore refer to anything—parents who are actually neglectful, or those who refuse to use their children’s preferred pronouns, or even those who do something as banal as not letting their children buy cell phones. Given the muddled inputs, the data are unpersuasive. Elsewhere in the document, the authors disclose that the self-reported suicide-attempt rate didn’t change much between youth who reported living in an a “gender-affirming” home (14 percent) compared to those who lived in a “not gender-affirming” home (20 percent).

Further, a child’s perceptions of “support” may be conditioned by his mental-health history, independent of his trans-identification status. A study by the Family Acceptance Project, for example, concedes that, “Independent of levels of family acceptance, transgender young adults reported lower social support and general health.” This is one weakness of the “minority stress” theory and the associated research, as noted by J. Michael Bailey: it never empirically tests for the possibility that the group in question has greater sensitivity to stressors to begin with, trading on the classic correlation/causation confusion. It is possible, therefore, that youth with more severe psychiatric issues are both more likely to identify as trans and to perceive and report familial situations as unsupportive.

The ACF later asserts that “research consistently shows that when LGBTQI+ youth experience supportive environments and services, they experience the same positive mental health outcomes as other youth.” It cites a Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration (SAMHSA) report to justify this claim.

The citations SAMHSA uses to support its view that “access to gender affirmation can reduce gender dysphoria and improve mental and physical health outcomes among transgender and gender diverse people,” however, are two “conceptual framework” papers, not rigorous empirical studies. These documents cannot possibly provide the required evidence. Meantime, so-called social transition—publicly recognizing a trans-identifying child’s chosen identity, a practice the SAMSHA report endorses—has not been shown to be necessary in improving mental health in high-quality research. A 2023 study from the U.K., for example, found “no significant effects of social transition or name change on mental health status.” That finding is corroborated by a new systematic assessment published as part of the final Cass Review, which found no credible evidence that social transition is either helpful or harmful. Other emerging evidence suggests that “social transition” may interfere with the natural resolution of gender dysphoria and greatly increase the chances that a passing phase becomes the basis for lifelong and potentially harmful medical interventions.

The Cass Review alludes to this possibility, emphasizing that social transition is “an active intervention because it may have significant effects on the child or young person in terms of their psychological functioning and longer-term outcomes.” The Review recommends consulting a clinician when deciding whether or how to facilitate social transition for children. The Biden administration’s ACF, in contrast, instructs state recipients to ensure social transition on demand, no clinical input required.

The SAMHSA report—which, as mentioned, also endorses social transition—claims that “[e]xtensive research indicates that even just one supportive adult, such as a family member, teacher, or mental health provider, can have a positive impact on the mental health of youth of diverse sexual orientation and/or gender identity; such support can reduce adverse mental health impacts including suicide.” However, the research SAMHSA cites in support of this claim looked only at acceptance of sexual orientation, not of “gender identity.”

This points to another concern about social transition: the most common outcome of dysphoria is not a transgender identity, but homosexuality. As the DSM-5 observes, among childhood “desisters”—people who once identified as transgender or experienced dysphoria but later revert to identifying as their biological sex or cease having dysphoria—63 percent to 100 percent of natal males and 32 percent to 50 percent of natal females turn out to be gay.

The ACF guidance compares objections to child gender transition with “conversion practices” and claims that multiple professional organizations agree that gender-identity conversion efforts have been “rejected as harmful.” This comparison is spurious, however, and has been addressed by psychologist James Cantor in response to an American Academy of Pediatrics’ policy statement on “gender-affirming care,” which made the same argument. Cantor said that the AAP’s claim about “conversion” practices “struck me as odd because there are no studies of conversion therapy for gender identity. Studies of conversion therapy have been limited to sexual orientation, and, moreover, to the sexual orientation of adults, not to gender identity and not of children in any case.” He added, “it simply makes no sense to refer to externally induced conversion. The majority of children ‘convert’ to cisgender or ‘desist’ from transgender regardless of any attempt to change them.”

The ACF’s rules treat “LGBTQI+” youth as a monolith. They assume that research done on gay and lesbian youth applies seamlessly to youth who identify as transgender. This is a well-known strategy of transgender activism: to exploit the ignorance of well-meaning Americans about the differences between sexual orientation and gender dysphoria. 

The finalized rules also fail to address the actual problems in the U.S. foster system. Data on foster-care capacity show a critical shortage of available homes. State foster systems remain generally underfunded, and the average annual turnover rate at U.S. child welfare agencies is almost 30 percent. The ACF could have endeavored to solve these problems.

Instead, the Biden administration seeks to use federal policy to cajole foster families and agencies into affirming a child’s mistaken gender identity, entrenching the idea that failing to do so constitutes abuse. The policy will compound the challenges facing some of the nation’s most vulnerable children.

[norabh63]

Let me tell you a story. It is more like a short conversation between a mother who is a believer and a child who is an atheist.

Mother: I hope you take a religious oath like I did.

Child: No Mom, I won't because I am an atheist.

Mother: What?? Why are u an atheist?

Child: Because I don't think there is evidence proving a god's existence.

Mother: There is evidence.

Child: What is it?

Mother: It is you, us, and this world created by god.

Child: That still doesn't prove anything. You just claimed it.

Mother: (A bit aggressive) So You think god doesn't exist??

Child: I didn't say that. I said we don't have evidence to believe that claim saying god exists.

Mother (Now more aggressive tone): How dare you say that? Do you know how much god gave me hope to survive? I am all surviving and you are too because of god? I do so much worship to the god but my child turns out to be an atheist. How could U hurt me so much? How could my child give me so much pain? Why was it need to be an atheist?

Clearing this point it's not a fiction story. It's almost the same conversation me and my mother had. I tried my best to keep it at a minimal level but it did go to a serious extent as well.

So I'd like to talk about the way that the mother tried to gaslight their own child. When the child expresses that being an atheist then the mother gives a baseless claim as evidence. The child further tries to explain their point but then the real narcissist Gaslighting begins.

Being emotionally manipulative because your adult child refuses to believe in something that you believe is a peak narcissist behavior, You try to blame your child for the hardship you had to go through. It may be true that you suffered a lot to reach this point but it won't justify your words or make your words correct. U and your child are different individuals. They won't go on the same pathway as u and you can't do anything about it. They are a different individual and you can't blame them for existing and making your life harder because they didn't choose to come into existence. It was you who chose to bring them into this world which implies that it's a bare minimum for you to work and raise your child.

Since it was about the existence of god, let me bring it another point as well. The emotional blackmail and the act of victim card. In this conversation, the child just mentioned that they don't believe in god because of lack of evidence but the mother then goes on with the victim card about how they hurt her and caused her pain because they don't believe in something due to lack of evidence. 

This conversation gave me a realization that religion is a tool that stops the capacity of an individual to question. It's a tool that even your loved one might use to blame you even if u are not to be blamed. And I am glad that I learned to question things which eventually led me to be an atheist.

[temis-de-leon]

Just remembered when a guy from high school fell in love with a girl at the ripe age of twelve, but she didn't reciprocate.

He gifted her chocolates, flowers and poems on the daily, which only made her reject him even more. One Valentine's Day he gave her all of the above plus balloons (remember, trashy public high school, 12 years old) and she finally begged him to leave her alone.

We found out the next day that he'd tried to commit suicide by jumping out of his bedroom window to make her feel guilty, but he lived on the first floor and the fall was only 3 meters tall (9 ft or so), which only caused a sprained ankle.

He felt so embarrassed that he changed high schools and then he never bothered her again.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar

Complete

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[ponlibrary]

✿ The Princess Owns You ✿

> A Kim Gaeul x Jang Wonyoung story <

Rumors are going around that IVE is going to be disbanded and when an invitation to Jang Wonyoung to debut as a soloist became public, the members start to suspect that the future of the group is uncertain. However, Wonyoung promises to stay and to do everything to keep the group alive if and only if the girl everyone thought she disliked, Kim Gaeul, accepts her dark proposal.

WARNING: BLACKMAIL AND DUBIOUS CONSENT.

In the last evening of January Liz, Rei and Gaeul were hanging out at a karaoke, Liz and Rei were having a great time, Rei took the time to show some J-pop classics from her childhood to her friends, the three of them were smiling and kind of singing on beat, however even with the disco illumination of the room the eyebags below Gaeul’s eyes were still noticeable. The song ended, Liz jumped to pick the next song, but Rei tried to intervene and pick something she wanted, Gaeul lowered her head trying to ignore the playful fighting of the other two. 

"Ok what if just this once, we pick one of our songs?" Said Rei pointing at the screen.

"Ugh, ok but which one?" Replied Liz rolling her eyes

"What about Love Dive?"

"Oh! yes it's been a while since we don't do that one just for fun," Liz replied, then she looked at Gaeul "Also I remember that unnie loves to sing Wony’s parts." 

Gaeul almost screamed, "No." The joyful expression of the girls disappeared. 

"Unnie, are you ok?" Asked Rei, Gaeul squeezed her eyes and used her hands to avoid being seen almost crying.

"Excuse me, I'll meet you outside." Gaeul left the room. 

Gaeul stepped on the street, some people were passing by but none of them recognised her. A chill air brushed her face while she was staring down at her phone’s screen ––3 missed calls from Yujin ––. The girl unlocked her cellphone and took a deep breath just before she looked up and saw on top of a building across the street, a massive billboard adorned with Jang Wonyoung’s face. She clenched her jaw but her eyelids started to quiver, finally found a release throwing her cellphone in the direction of the billboard landing just a few steps from where she was.

"Fuck you!" Gaeul screamed trying to find some relief. Tears began to pour out of her eyes, just a few seconds later Rei and Liz came out giggling from the karaoke, just to witness her friend and unnie curbed down in the sidewalk crying. 

“Gaeul!” Quickly Rei helped the crying girl to stand up and comforted her with a hug.

"What's happening?" Asked Liz while Rei was using her hands to brush Gaeul’s hair back into shape. 

"No-nothing," she said, still stuttering from the crying.

 "Oh unnie, your mobile." Liz went to retrieve the device, she lifted from the floor a cellphone with a smashed screen, unresponsive to her attempts to make it turn back on. Liz hummed confused, then looked up and saw the same billboard that made her unnie rage out, it was from a pretty famous makeup brand, but Liz understood what was happening just by looking at the model. The girl looked back at her group mates, only Rei stared back at her.

 "Um, Gaeul unnie," whispered Rei, trying to sound as soft as possible. 

"Do not tell this to Yujin," said Gaeul, separating herself from her bandmate.

"Come on unnie it's important–."

Gaeul interrupted, "Please, I’ll explain it to her, later, but she was trying to call me, she must be worried."

"Yes she was, but she called me just a bit ago, it’s all ok, but we have to come back to the dorm," Interjected Liz.

 "Why? it’s not even that late" Asked Gaeul with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

 "Well—.” Liz hesitated to continue“—You-know-who, is finally coming back."

 "Oh, it’s her," Gaeul replied with a dry tone "Call our chauffeur or something," said while plucking her broken cell phone from Liz’s hands, she continued "Oh right, they don’t have those for us anymore," before walking a couple of steps away from her group mates. 

Rei reached for Gaeul’s shoulders from behind and softly said, “Unnie we can wait a little bit here, there is no need to rush.”

Gaeul joined one of her hand’s with Rei’s, and said, “If Yujin needs us to come back, we must come back”.

Rei tried to protest, “But you–.” However she was interrupted by her unnie.

“I’m fine!” Gaeul then looked for her other bandmate, “Liz?”

"Right, I’ll call a taxi," said Liz. The trip back to the dorm went pretty silent.

—  —  —

When they arrived at their dorm, there was no one waiting for them, they removed their shoes and then they noticed sounds coming from inside Wonyoung’s room. Gaeul stared terrified, was Wonyoung already waiting for them?

“Oh sorry, hello everyone! I was hoping you would take a bit longer," said Yujin happily, coming out of the room with an empty plastic bag and wipes. Gaeul, being the shortest, fell back so she could hide behind her group mates,“I was just making sure her room was squeaky clean." The trio saluted her back.

“Yujin unnie, is she really coming back today?” Asked Rei looking at the time on her cellphone. 

“Yes Wonyoung is on her way here, so we need to—," said Yujin getting close to the trio, “—what happened?” Asked in a serious tone when she noticed Gaeul’s eyebags and red eyes. 

“Sorry I- I fell yeah," murmured Gaeul lowering her head. “Excuse me," she said, leaving the rest of the cliche and going inside her shared room. Yujin stared down at Liz, who simply shook her head. 

Gaeul entered the room and found Leeseo putting some makeup on their shared secretter, the youngest member of the group was listening to some music, oblivious to the oldest, who decided to gain her attention by quickly poking Leeseo’s shoulders. The girl flinched scared.

“Sorry!” Said Gaeul, almost laughing.

"Unnie! Hello! How was the karaoke?” Replied Leeseo, taking out one of her airpods but still looking at the mirror, barely glancing at the other one.

“Not as good as I hoped for, hey are you preparing to welcome Wonyoung?” Asked Gaeul while taking off her jacket.

“Yes! I’m so excited, as her favorite group member I have to look the prettiest!” Said Leeseo, almost dancing to her own words.

“That’s nice of you." Gaeul came closer to the side of her younger bandmate and said, “Hey, does it bother you if I hug you for a bit?"

“Not at all! Come here unnie." Leeseo moved towards Gaeul, finally noticing her face, “Oh, unnie?” The oldest slided her arms under Leeseo’s, and hid her face inside the soft embrace. "Unnie is everything ok?'' said Lesseo, just before Gaeul started to sob, quietly.

“I don’t want her to come back."

Leeseo started to look around the room, confused about what to do now “I'm sorry," quietly said in her unnie’s ear, she then raised her voice carefully to not shout too close to her friend, “Yujin unnie, please come in!” An affirmative response was barely audible from outside the room.

“Is she—” Questioned Yujin just entering the room, but she stopped at the sight of her unnie looking back at her not only crying but also angry, still embracing the youngest member of the group.

“What do you want now?!” Screamed Gaeul back at her. Yujin just nodded in silence, then exited the room for a moment, just to come back with a cup filled with water. When she came close to the oldest girl, she made a gesture so Leeseo moved back. When Gaeul looked up, she was met by a splash of cold water, leaving her dripping wet. “What the heck!” Gaeul shouted.

“Les, could you leave us here alone for a moment? I really need to talk with our unnie." After hearing Yujin, Leeseo complied, took her makeup palette, and left the room. Once the girl left, Gaeul gained back her composure and looked back at Yujin, brushing to the sides her soaking wet hair. 

“There is nothing to talk about, you all can easily welcome the princess without me,” said Gaeul.

“No. I can’t let you do that. We are a group, remember?” Said Yujin.

“What are you talking about? We are barely a group anymore, it’s been weeks since the company has called us to do anything about IVE," reproaches Gaeul, pointing at the group leader, “Besides, you know that she and I. We always hated each other."

“You don’t know that!” Said Yujin, followed by a frustrated sigh“I guess you have seen the rumors that are going around," continued, she then took a sit on the bed of Gaeul and asked, “Please sit," She complied while Yujin kept explaining, "Unnie, you once told me that you would do anything and everything for this group to work."

“Yes, I danced, I sang, I rapped, I took care of Leeseo. I did everything that was asked of me. I know I had always been far from the best but—," Gaeul got interrupted by Yujin who grabbed her face by the chin.

Yujin pleaded looking into her unnie’s eyes,“Please Gaeul, just. One last time."

Gaeul moved away from Yujin and complained,“I don’t understand why it is so important that I welcome Wonyoung."

“It’s not only that, today when she told me on the phone that she was coming back, she asked for you, and—."

“Shut up, that can’t be true," interrupted Gaeul in a raised voice.

Yujin wrapped Gaeul with one of her arms and explained,“Listen to me unnie, she asked for you to cook something for tonight, she loves that Steak Au Chocolat that you made for her birthday."

“She didn’t say that when I gave it to her," murmured the oldest, then looked Yujin back in the eyes to ask,“If I say hi, fake a smile and cook her meal would you all stop bothering me?”

“Yes."

—  —  —

Gaeul dried her hair and tried her best to cover the eyebags, they could have looked better but time was running out so she decided to prioritize the cooking. Unfortunately Steak Au Chocolat is a dish that takes quite a while to get done. She picked that recipe from the interweb just some months ago, when she was still comfortable with unconsciously obsessing with Wonyoung to the point to search for a meal with the girl’s two favorite things, chocolate and beef. And then making it over and over until all the other members were sick of chocolate but she was confident that the dish at least was ‘good enough for Wonyoung’. 

Sadly during Wonyoung’s last birthday, just like every other time she came back from a long time working outside the dorm, she was pretty tired, so she barely ate that magnificent Steak Au Chocolat and went straight to her room to sleep. That memory was clouding Gaeul’s mind, making it difficult for her to even concentrate, obsessing that it would happen all over again, then all of the sudden she felt a sharp pain. The girl confused tried to pull herself back from the images of that last August, just finally looking down at the cutting board. A tiny canal of blood was oozing from her index finger, she had slipped while cutting shallots. 

While the rest of the dorm was moving pretty fast, 4 girls scrambling around trying to get ready, Gaeul quietly contemplated her wound. She played with it for a moment, relishing the pain, until she managed to move on to find a bandage to envelop her finger. Once her wound was covered she watched the kitchen full of skillets and pots, a lot was already done, but the meal was really far from being ready.

The girl took a deep breath, and muttered to herself, “Come on Kim Gaeul, just one last thing, and you will not have to put up with her— her pretty face ever again," she covered her face with her hands “I won’t see her pretty face ever again,” she stomped her way back to the kitchen and started chopping shallots again, a single teardrop, unnoticed by her, runned down her face, leaving marks on her fresh makeup.

While the rest of the girls were still getting ready, Rei came to help Gaeul, making sure she finished the dish on time, until she noticed "Unnie, you have been crying again.”

“No I haven’t!” Gaeul covered her face just to make sure. Rei took a napkin and got close to her, gently cleaning the marks the tears left on her makeup, she then softly whispered “Thank you.”

Both girl’s faces were just a couple of inches from each other, Rei said,“Please don’t forget about me, no matter what happens today, you can always count on me.” Right before Gaeul could mutter any word, the doorbell rang, both girls flinched and they separated, with nothing else said, Rei approached the door, the short girl gained focus once again, just to realize that the now chopped down beef was still raw.

—  —  —

Jang Wonyoung entered the dorm, looking flawless but at the same time, just a little bit casual, “Heyo everyone! I missed you!” Yujin helped Wonyoung with her logging while she was one by one hugging and greeting each of the members of the group.

“How was your trip Wony unnie?” Leeseo asked.

“Pretty nice! I ate some peanuts on the plane, but I'm a bit tired," said Wonyoung, and for a moment looked over the heads of her bandmates, “Girls, where is Gaeul unnie?” The tall girl stepped inside the dorm’s living, and heard the sizzling of beef. She watched Gaeul finish the beef for the dish, and made a big smile. 

“She is preparing what you asked for," said Yujin, and then conducted Wonyoung to the kitchen bar.

“Smells really lovely!” exclaimed Wonyoung sitting on the bar.

Gaeul hadn't looked at Wonyoung or greeted her yet, until she rotated towards the bar, placed the perfectly cooked beef on top and then poured the chocolate salsa. Finally with the help of a pair of thongs she prepared a portion. Once the plate was done, she almost threw it towards Wonyoung accompanied with a pair of chopsticks, “I hope you are hungry” said the girl in a hostile tone, barely audible from the ruckus the plate was making against the tabletop.

She was preoccupied with preparing other portions when Wonyoung quietly said “Hi unnie, won’t you hug me?” The short girl stalled for a moment but finally placed the thongs down and came close to her taller bandmate. 

“Of course, sorry I forgot." While Gaeul was beginning to wrap her arms behind the taller girl, Wonyoung was already pressing her body against her, forming a tight embrace.

“Thank you," whispered Wonyoung into Gaeul’s ear.

“No, thank you."

Yujin tried to avoid looking towards her friends hugging, meanwhile Liz came close to her and quietly asked “Hey it’s ok if we just go to our rooms to eat?”

“It’s ok, I need to talk only with Wonyoung anyway” Whispered back Yujin.

Gaeul separated from Wonyoung, both girls were clearly flushed, “Sorry” said the shorter girl, “Liz, you and the girls also want beef?”

“Yes please!” 

Gaeul started serving some other portions, Wonyoung took her chopsticks and finally had a bite of the Steak Au Chocolat, her face contorted in a weird smile and liberated a small pleasureful hum. The oldest finished serving beef, passed the last plate to Yujin, and grabbed hers,“I think I’m going to excuse myself too," said, trying not to glance at Wonyoung or Yujin.

“Yes, thank you unnie," answered Yujin, but before taking another bite, Wonyoung glanced at Yujin with a worried expression.

“Can’t she stay?” Pleaded Wonyoung.

Gaeul winced her eyebrows into a frustrated expression as she heard Yujin say “Sure, Gaeul unnie can you please stay with us?”

“Okay." The shorter girl sat in the stall beside Wonyoung.

“Thanks for the beef, this is so good!” Said Wonyoung while eating at a faster pace.

“Sure." 

“Really this is the best meal I had in a long time!” 

“Glad you liked it."

 The rest of the meal went pretty silent until Wonyoung asked,“Did you girls do anything fun today?”

“I stayed here catching up with some dramas," said Yujin. Wonyoung then stared towards her unnie, waiting for an answer, until Yujin interjected, “Also Liz, Rei and Gaeul went out to a new karaoke."

“Oh! Really! How was the karaoke unnie?” said Wonyoung to her unnie.

Gaeul stalled for a bit until she answered,“It was good, I had fun until Rei wanted to sing Love Dive and—” she looked away trying to hide her face from the stare of her bandmates, “—And then they mentioned you Wonyoung, so I just ran outside but you were still there, in a billboard —"  The girl’s voice started to crack while speaking”—And I saw you, and I didn't know what to do, so I threw my phone up in the air, trying to hit you." Almost unable to speak, finally muttered, “But I broke my cell phone, and for nothing."

“Why? Unnie, are you mad at me?” Asked Wonyoung, getting closer to Gaeul.

Gaeul placed her hands in the bar, tilted her head down and muttered,“I don't know, but I heard some things that really hurted me."

Wonyoung reached one of the girl’s small hands and reassured her,"Unnie, those rumors are not real."  Gaeul, with tears in her eyes but a glint of hope in her pupils, stared back at Wonyoung, just before she clarified, “It’s all fake, I’m not dating anyone."

“What? No, I’m not—" Almost crying, Gaeul pulled back her hand from Wonyoung’s grasp.

Yujin grabbed one of Wonyoung's shoulders and pulled her while ordering,“Enough, Jang Won-young, we need to talk. Privately."

“O-ok," nervously replied Wonyoung. Yujin took Wonyoung inside of the latter’s room, leaving Gaeul alone at the kitchen bar.

—  —  —

Gaeul checked the oven’s clock and estimated that 15 minutes had passed. Then she noticed on the reflection of the surface that tears were running down her face, without even realizing that she had been crying this time she tried her best to clean her face with some napkins. She was just about to enter her shared room when she started hearing muffled screaming, coming from Wonyoung’s room. Gaeul got near the door when the door was slammed open, Wonyoung pushed Yujin out of her room.

 “Get out, I don't wanna talk with you If you are going to be this rude," said Wonyoung in an unstable voice, right before shutting her door.

“What happened?” Asked Gaeul.

A defeated Yujin said, “Seems like the rumors are true, Hybe is offering her to be a soloist, even trying to help any contractual issue."

The older girl insisted, “And she said…?”

“She is still thinking about it," explained Yujin while sitting back in the kitchen.

“Thinking about it?!” Said Gaeul, raising her voice.

Yujin let out a sigh, and replied, “Listen, the company has been waiting for this to get—  a resolution, before they start giving us more work, with or without her."

“And you are not going to do anything about it?” 

“There is no need, I believe, no— I know that we could work out just the five of us," said Yujin.

Gaeul grabbed her leader by the collar of her shirt and said“So you are not even going to try to convince her?!”

The leader hesitated to answer but she gave up,“I-I just can't, ok?”

“What do you mean?! Are you not her best friend?!” said Gaeul, then she walked close to the entrance to Wonyoung’s room, “It's fine, doesn't matter."

Yujin standed up and closed her distance to her unnie while asking, “Wait, what are you doing?”

“You asked me to help you one last time, so I'm doing that," explained Gaeul, while grabbing the handle of Wonyoung’s room door. 

Yujin just stood there, watching Gaeul enter Wonyoung’s room, uninvited.

—  —  —

Gaeul peeked inside Wonyoung’s room, it was the first time she ever looked inside, she took a moment to look at the sober yet cute decoration, glancing at everything except the bed that was just a few steps from her.

“Gaeul unnie? What are you doing here?” Wonyoung asked the girl, forcing her to finally take a look at Wonyoung’s bed. The taller girl had an upset expression, while laying down just beside a big Cherry plushie, however her arms were wrapped around a Dal-E plushie, the one based not on Wonyoung herself but on Gaeul.

Gaeul replied calmly “I just want to talk with you."

“Ok you can come in, but please make sure to close the door after you."

Gaeul thanked her and entered the room, while Wonyoung changed her posture into a sitting one, but still caressing her Dal-E plush. “Hey, I'm really sorry from before, I shouldn't have been so mean to you." Said the older girl,  just nearing the bed of Wonyoung, who then made a gesture inviting her to sit beside her.

She took a sit at the edge of the bed, pretty close to Wonyoung, who said, “It's fine, I understand now what was happening, sorry If I misunderstood your feelings” Wonyoung hugged her Dal-E tightly and added,“But you are not longer mad at me aren't you unnie?”

“I wasn't even mad," said Gaeul, reaching out and grabbing the Cherry plushie, she continued, “I was just hoping that you would stay with us."

“Why?”

Gaeul hugged the plushie based on Wonyoung’s likeness and answered,“I heard that you may debut by yourself, pretty far from this dorm and band, but I think that we need you."

“I just wish we had more time to get closer," said Wonyoung, putting down her Dal-E.

 “So are you really going to do it?” 

“I’m not sure, but unnie, my life is currently a mess, I don’t have time for my family, my friends, myself, not even time for all of you, the ones I depend on the most," said Wonyoung standing up. Once she was a couple of steps away, and not facing her unnie, she continued, “I love being an idol but my life could get better if I was just alone, I would lose all of you yes. But maybe it’s a good thing, it’s not fair that we are a band and I can pick and make big decisions but the rest of the time I’m just tending to other responsibilities." 

Gaeul stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. Hiding her face in the plushie, finally said, “Seems pretty cut and dry, why don’t you just say yes to them?” 

“So you really want me to be gone, don't you unnie?” Quietly muttered Wonyoung.

“Maybe. I don’t think we ever liked each other that much, but I’m sure you will stay in contact with the rest of the girls. So why don’t you just leave?”

“You are confusing me because, well—," said Wonyoung, her words started to come out slowly. “I heard you say one time that you would do anything and everything to keep IVE working. is that true?”

“Yes I said that.”

Wonyoung said in a frustrated tone, “Then why are you not trying harder to convince me not to go?” Finally facing Gaeul. 

“Maybe IVE doesn’t need you and—” On the verge of tears the shorter girl said, “I can’t help you reach the comfortable life you deserve. Leaving looks like the only option."

“Oh dear. But there is another option," whispered Wonyoung right before she quickly walked towards her unnie and pushed her all the way into the bed until her tall body was on top of the small Gaeul, moving the plushies away so their bodies could feel each others warmth,”You just don't want to give it to me."

“What are you doing?!” Said Gaeul, her lips quivering just by feeling Wonyoung’s breath.

“Would you still do anything—?” Asked Wonyoung, who then took both of Gaeul’s hands and pinned them down over her head, leaving the smaller girl at her mercy.“For me?”

“Any-thing," said Gaeul, almost tasting the words.

“Then I will do everything I can to keep IVE together, but I want you to take care of me. To cook for me, to listen to me, to just be there for me at any time I need you. I want you to worry about me, I—," begged Wonyoung, getting her face even closer to Gaeul’s,“I want you to be mine."

 A blushing Gaeul turned her head away and protested, “Why are you playing with me like this? It’s obvious that you hate me."

Wonyoung squeezed the smaller hands and whispered to Gaeul right into her ear, “No, you are the one that hates me, but I don’t care how you feel about this. There never was another option for us, so now. Answer me!"

Gaeul stared directly into Wonyoung’s eyes and in a burst of joy said,“Y-yes, I-I’m yours, you own me now." 

“Wait unnie, did you—!” Said Wonyoung, her severe expression became a wide smile. Wonyoung freed the small hands, and wrapped her arms around her unnie’s neck tightly hugging her. Before Gaeul could embrace Wonyoung too, the one on top realized in which position they were. Wonyoung rose until she was sitting on top of her hips. Aware of this the girl on top excused herself, “I'm sorry” and completely flushed, dismounted, and went back to sitting on the edge of the bed.

Gaeul looked at Wonyoung, disappointed. Then she also moved down to the edge of the bed, “Don’t you want this?” said, and joined one of her hands with Wonyoung’s hands.

“I wasn’t prepared for this, you actually said yes," said Wonyoung.

“I would have always said yes to you,” whispered the older girl, finally being honest.

“Did you–” The taller girl felt blood rushing to her head, confused, tried to find other words and kept caressing the smaller girl’s hand… "Unnie did you cut yourself?” Wonyoung grabbed Gaeul’s hand and moved it closer to her face, staring at the bandaid.

“Yes I did, it happened while I was chopping some vegetables for your beef."

“But you're the best at cooking, what happened?” Wonyoung let her unnie's hand go.

She explained, “I was overthinking— believing things would go like your last birthday. And you would simply ignore me and my efforts."

Wonyoung’s voice started to crack when she explained, “I’m sorry, on my birthday, I worked all day, when I came back, I was a mess and–”

The smaller girl placed her wounded finger on the model’s lips and calmed her saying, “Shh, I understand," The model answered by enveloping the finger with her hands and giving it a soft kiss. Then both girls got lost in each other's eyes for a moment, until finally Wonyoung threw herself at Gaeul and their mouths connected on a passionate kiss. 

Wonyoung quickly pushed Gaeul back into the center of the bed, she was getting comfortable on top of her unnie, when suddenly the small hand’s of the other girl grabbed her by the hips and reversed the position, the smaller girl was now on top. She then grabbed Wonyoung’s hands and pinned them on top of her head. The tall girl, now drunk with desire, looked at the dominant girl with her eyes wide open and said, "Gaeul wait."

“Shhh, you just have to tell me when to stop," reassured Gaeul to her owner.

“But I want to hug you” asked the girl at the bottom, the smaller girl let her hands go, Wonyoung embraced Gaeul very tightly and they started to kiss again.

Gaeul never slept again without her owner, Wonyoung.

The end.