#but if I hadn't built the social circle I have

[panicdeleter]

Social currency deficits leading to worse outcomes is already somewhat of a problem, though. Former fosters make up a huge percentage of homeless people, for example, lacking the safety net and power structure of the nuclear familiy. Additionally the focus on family ties as the primary social unit puts children (and the elderly, to some degree, and the disabled in general) in a much worse position than they would otherwise be, if community ties weren't so much lower on the relationship hirearchy.

If safety in your ideal society is entirely based on care by networks of affinity, and does not provide care for people who are not liked by anybody, then your society is actually even worse than the situation we are in now.

Pissing off people close to you or over-exhausting your social network or isolating yourself is often an inherent part of many mental health problems, addictions, etc. By the time people need care the most, they have often lost all their networks of affinity, and with some bad luck, any of us could find ourselves in that situation.

There has to be unconditional care available for the more unlikable of us, or there isn't really a safety net for any of us.

[wolverigrl]

Rumors

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Warnings: smut! Only 18+!, swearing, angsty, fluffy

!Disclaimer! If you'd like to skip the smut, scroll down as soon as you see "---" in the text. From there, the smut part begins and ends at the next "---"!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's been five months. Five months since our first date, and yet somehow, it feels like both forever and no time at all.

I sit here now, in the gym, watching him lift weights like it’s nothing, and I’m struck by just how lucky I feel. From the very beginning, it was like we found our rhythm without even trying - our relationship is built on mutual respect and trust. We give each other space when needed, and t's refreshing to be with someone who values independence as much as I do.

The dates we've had so far have been perfect in their own way. Our second one was at this hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in the city. I remember how he laughed when I spilled wine on the tablecloth, and how his hand brushed mine as we reached for the same napkin. We've done simple things too, like grabbing coffee early in the morning or working out. Once, we spent an afternoon at an old bookstore, getting lost in the aisles of dusty novels and sharing passages that made us laugh. Every moment with him feels like a memory in the making

And yet, it all changed a little last month when we were spotted. We hadn't been careful enough. A quick kiss in a park, something so innocent, but the paparazzi caught us. The next day, our picture was splashed across every tabloid and social media. That unintentional confirmation of our relationship wasn't what we had planned. Neither of us wanted the world in on our private lives.

Still, we've dodged every question thrown at us in interviews or on social media. But avoiding the questions doesn't stop the criticism.

The age gap. It's what everyone seems to latch onto. Hugh's used to it - He’s been doing this long enough to know how to handle the press, the rumors, the gossip. But me? I’m still learning how to deal with it. I try to act like it doesn't bother me. I nod along, tell everyone I'm fine, but inside, it's harder than I thought it would be. Some of the comments sting more than I care to admit. I've been in relationships before, but none of them were "public" like this. My exes were all from my private circle - well, except for Chris, but that doesn't count. That was way before either of us was well-known. This, with Hugh, is different. It's out there.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep us private for a while longer, to hold onto this little piece of normalcy for just us. But now it’s out, and there’s no taking it back.

Now everything is under scrutiny. People question our relationship and my motives. Of course there are fans who are supportive - sweet comments, even some who come up to me on the street and say they love us together. But then there are the others. The ones who say I’m only with him to advance my career, that I’m using him to get ahead. Ever since our last movie together, I’ve been getting bigger roles, and some people think that’s because of him. Like I can’t earn anything on my own.

I try to brush it off, but there are moments when those words hit hard. And even though Hugh has told me a thousand times to ignore it. I’m not like him. I haven’t been in the spotlight for decades. I don’t have the thick skin he’s developed over the years.

Our managers weren’t thrilled either when they found out we’d been seeing each other behind their backs. It wasn’t anger, really, more disappointment that we hadn’t trusted them enough to let them in on it. But in a way, I’m glad we didn’t. We needed this to just to be ours for a while.

Still, despite all the noise, the criticism, the rumors—there’s comfort between us. We act like a real couple. We’ve never had the talk, though, about what we are exactly. Are we officially together? I don’t even know. We’ve just kind of fallen into this routine, and honestly, love it. I love the way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world when we’re together.

My eyes drift back to him as he lowers the weights, his muscles tensing with the effort. He's ridiculously strong, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a turn on. God, he’s attractive. And sweet. And patient. And funny. Sometimes I catch myself even fangirling. I mean, it's still Hugh fucking Jackman. How did I get so lucky?

“You good, y/n?" Hugh’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Yeah." I say, quickly covering up my awkwardness with a grin. “Just appreciating the view.”

His eyes narrow, that playful smile tugging at his lips. He walks over, sweat still glistening on his skin, and towers above me, crossing his arms. “You know, you could’ve just taken a picture.”

“Maybe I will next time,” I tease, leaning back on the bench.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Or you could just join me instead of sitting over there like a creep.”

“Please. I did twice as many reps as you did earlier,” I say, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from my brow. “I deserve a break.”

“Is that right?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning down so we’re almost face-to-face. “Pretty sure I saw you struggling with those squats.”

“I wasn’t struggling." I protest, trying to keep a straight face, but his cocky grin is making it impossible.

“You say that now, but your form—”

“My form was perfect!” I laugh, pushing his arm lightly. “Stop acting like you weren’t impressed.”

“Oh, I was impressed." he admits, his voice dropping an octave. “Just not with your workout.”

The heat between us flares up in an instant, the way it always does when he looks at me like that. There’s this pull, this magnetic energy that I haven’t felt in a while. We flirt, we tease, we push each other’s buttons, and it’s exhilarating. But there’s always this line we haven’t fully crossed yet. We get close - so close - but we always pull back.

We go back and forth like this until we wrap up our workout. Hugh's leaving for Sydney tomorrow to visit his family for a few weeks, but his kids won't be able to join him because they're going on holiday with their mom, so it'll just be him this time

I'll admit, I already miss him so much. I don't really know what to do yet. So far, we've spent pretty much every day together, but now that the interviews are slowly getting fewer and everyday life is getting quieter, it's getting boring without someone to keep me on my toes. I guess Ryan and Blake will have to take over.

After the gym, we head back to his place, still bickering about who did better with which exercises. By the time we're on the couch, it's turned into playful shoving and teasing until his lips are on mine, and everything else fades away. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch sets my skin on fire.

But just as things are about to cross that line again, I pull away, leaving him breathless and staring at me in confusion.

"You’re impossible." he mutters, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

I smile sweetly, standing up and stretching. “I need a shower.”

"You’re an absolutely evil woman!" he calls after me as I walk toward the bathroom, but I don’t turn around. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

I can't help but smile to myself as I undress and step into the shower. The hot water cascades down my skin, but my mind is elsewhere - back on the couch, replaying the way his hands felt on me, the way his breath hitched when I kissed him. It's getting harder to hold back, to not give in to the growing desire between us. We've come close before - so many times - but for some reason, we always stop right pefore things get too far. It's like we're both waiting for the perfect moment. I'm not in a rush, but God, he makes it so hard to resist.

But it’s not just physical. It’s him. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel seen. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone, and that scares me a little. I’m falling for him - hard - and I’m terrified of what that means. We’ve never even talked about what we are, and here I am, thinking about how much I want him, how much I love him.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Am I in love with him? My heart pounds in my chest, and I realize that, yes, I probably am. But I don’t know if he feels the same way. What if this is just something casual for him? What if I bring it up, and he doesn’t feel the same? He’s never pressured me, never pushed for more, and sometimes I wonder if he’s happy with how things are - just casual, just fun.

When I'm done, I slip into my pajamas - just a simple tank top and shorts - and head into the bedroom. Hugh's sitting on the edge of the bed, scroling through his phone, but he glances up when I walk in.

"Took you long enough." he says with a mischievous grin. "Were you thinking about me in there?"

I smirk, leaning against the doorway.

"Maybe?"

He laughs, setting his phone down and standing up. He walks over to me, placing one hand on my hip, the other cupping my face. His lips brush mine in a teasing kiss, his hand sliding down to give my ass a playful squeeze.

"Behave." I mutter, but my voice betrays me, sounding more breathless than I intended.

"Why? I thought you like it when I don’t." he says, that teasing grin never faltering.

Before I can respond, he pulls away and heads to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

I sighed and lay down on the bed and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Before I can lose myself in my thoughts again, I hear the water turn off, and a minute later, Hugh steps back into the room, still dripping wet and wrapped only in his towel, which hangs dangerously low. I can't take my eyes off him. He's searching through the dresser, muttering something about forgetting his boxers, but I don't hear the words. My heart pounds in my chest, and I know - I know - this is it. I can’t hold back anymore.

Without second guessing, I get up and cross the room, moving toward him without a word. He watches me, his brow furrowing in slight confusion, but there’s something else there too.

When I reach him, I stop, just inches away, and look up at him. I don’t say anything for a long moment. I just let myself feel the weight of this moment.

---

Finally, I find my voice, though it’s softer than I expected. “I want you.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I’ve surprised him. But then, something shifts in his expression, and the air between us thickens. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek as he studies my face.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and I can see the restraint in his eyes. He’s giving me an out. One last chance to change my mind. But I don’t want out. Not anymore.

“Yes." I whisper, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “I’m sure.”

That’s all it takes. In an instant, his lips are on mine, and the kiss is different this time - deeper. Hungrier. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into his touch.

Before I know it, he’s lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the roughness of the towel against my skin. His grip tightens, and I’m suddenly aware of just how much I want him - how much I’ve always wanted him.

The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, and I can feel the last remnants of our restraint crumbling. He carries me over to the bed, his towel loosening around his hips, and gently lays me down. Our breaths are ragged, our bodies pressed together in a way that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

His kisses moved to my neck while one of his hands disappeared under my top. I gasped softly and ran my hands over his strong back. He began to gently squeeze my breast as I pressed his hips against mine with my legs, clearly feeling his arousal. Breathing heavily, he rubbed his groin against me and applied more pressure to my breast.

"Please." I said softly and looked at him greedily. "Please what, love?" he broke away from my lips and straightened up a little to get a better look at my face.

I couldn't help myself and looked down to his towel, which was now hanging down so low that you could see his perfect v-line clearly, as well as the vein under his belly button.

I swallowed and also straightened up to pull my top over my head.

"Fucking hell." he muttered quietly. I lay back down with my arms over my head and looked straight at him. "Just stop holding back and fuck me already."

He didn't need to be told twice and leaned over me again. The kiss was wilder than before and I felt like his hands were everywhere. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice that he had already thrown my shorts on the floor. It was only when I felt his fingers on my clit that I realized it. I gasped out loud and dug my fingers in his hair and shoulders as he caressed my neck and circled his thumb over my clit. I was a complete wreck. Everything happened so quickly, but somehow it also didn't. I pressed my knees into Hugh's sides and pushed my pelvis towards him as he slid two fingers inside me. I moaned loudly and pushed my head back into the pillow. Suddenly I felt an electrifying sensation as he ran his tongue around my breast and sucked on it. He curled his fingers in and moved his hand faster. I moaned loudly again and pressed my nails firmly into his shoulder as a pleasurable feeling came over me in my abdomen.

Hugh's kisses moved back up to my lips until he released his heavy breath and slid his fingers out of me.

He looked at me full of lust and totally befuddled. I had never seen him like this before. But seeing him like this almost made me go crazy myself. He smiled gently at me and stroked a few strands of hair from my face. "You're so damn beautiful."

I felt my face flush and ran my hands down his torso to his dick, smiling. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as I slowly began to stroke him.

I clenched around nothing and bit my lip as I looked at him.

He looked at me again, bent both my legs and pulled my hands away, to stroke his own member. He rubbed his pre-cum wet tip against my clit and looked deep into my eyes. It made me absolutely feral.

"Hell. Stop fucking teasing!" I growled. Without another word, he slid into me and put my legs over his shoulders. I moaned loudly and curled my toes. He was breathing heavily and you could see how much he was controlling himself.

"You're so fucking tight." He slowly began to move his hips and it drove me wild when I felt him filling me up. "Baby please don't hold back." I moaned and closed my eyes.

"Eyes on me my love." he groaned and thrusted harder. I gasped, a little startled, and looked him straight in the eyes. My hands disappeared into his hair again and his speed increased steadily. I felt everything slowly boiling up inside me and I clenched hard around his dick. That eye contact. His moans. The sounds of our bodies hitting each other and the thick air in the room. Everything began to spin around me and I could no longer maintain eye contact.

"I'm gonna cum!" I moaned as I felt him thrusting even deeper than before. Hugh now closed his own eyes, let my legs off his shoulders and pressed both my hands over my head with one hand to stimulate my clit with the other. He was panting loudly himself. "Cum for me baby. I wanna see how you cum all over me."

That gave me the rest and for a brief moment I thought I was seeing the white light. My legs were shaking like crazy and I felt an incredible pull in my abdomen. Hugh moaned with me and let go of me to support himself with his forearms next to my head instead.

Panting, he rested his head in the crook of my neck while I stroked his sweaty back. Shortly afterwards, I felt his rhythm become more and more irregular until he did a last hard thrust and moaned loudly. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his pulsing dick made my skin crawl and I pressed myself tightly against him with my legs and arms.

There was complete silence for a moment. I could only hear our panting and our heartbeats in the room.

I felt his semen leaking out of me and slowly running down my bottom.

Hugh pulled away to lay down next to me and pulled me to his side before kissing me on the forehead. I smiled at him and stroked his sweaty chest with my hand.

"We should probably have done it before the shower." Hugh said with a smirk and looked at me.

"Or in the shower." He laughed and nodded.

---

After cleaning up, we lay together, our bodies entwined under the blanket. The room is quiet, except for the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal. Hugh is beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my skin. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, and there’s a comfort in the silence between us.

But there’s also a weight, a need to say something. To define this.

I shift slightly, turning so I can face him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Then, softly, I ask. "Do you ever… worry? About what people say about us?”

His brow furrows slightly, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face before answering. “What people say? You mean the age thing?”

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. And the way they watch us. The paparazzi, the rumors… It’s just hard sometimes.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently cupping the back of my head. “I know it’s hard, y/n and I’m sorry you have to deal with all that because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say quickly. “I just… sometimes I don’t know how to handle it. But I don't want to be that person who lets the outside world affect what we have." I whisper. "But sometimes it just... gets to me."

"You're not that person." he assures me, his voice firm but gentle. "You're human. And it's okay to feel that way. The important thing is that we talk about it, like we're doing now.. And you don’t have to handle it alone." he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “I’m here. We’re in this together.”

His words are soothing, but there’s still a part of me that struggles with the reality of our situation. I bite my lip, hesitating before speaking again. “Sometimes I wonder… if maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Hey." he interrupts softly, his thumb grazing my cheek. “Don’t go there. We’re good, okay? We’re more than good.”

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just don’t want it to get too complicated.”

Hugh is silent for a moment, then he asks quietly. “Would it help if we made it official?”

I blink, my heart skipping a beat. “Official?”

He gives me a small smile, his eyes soft as he looks at me. “Yeah. Maybe then they will stop harassing us with their questions." For a moment we both were silent before he started to speak again. "Like… would you want to be my girlfriend?”

My heart swells at the simplicity of his question and made me speechless. Then I slowly nod, a smile spreading across my face. “Yeah." I whisper. “I’d like that.”

He grins, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, content.

After a while, he pulls back, looking thoughtful. “You know, I’m heading to Australia tomorrow to visit family.”

I nod, already knowing. “Yeah, you mentioned that. How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks." he says, his fingers brushing over my arm absently. “But… I was thinking. What if you came with me?”

I blink in surprise. “To Sydney?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it’d be nice… spending some more time together. Away from all this.”

I hesitate, the idea both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know, Hugh. It feels… fast. I haven’t even met your family yet.”

He chuckles softly. “You wouldn’t have to. Not unless you wanted to. It can just be the two of us. We can do whatever you want. I just want to spend time with you."

I smile softly at his words, feeling my heart swell.

“I’ll think about it,” I say softly, leaning my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a calming rhythm that soothes the anxiety swirling in my mind.

“Good,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently through my hair. “That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

I bite my lip, thinking it over. The idea is tempting - really tempting.

"Okay." I say, making the decision. "I'II come. But maybe I'll fly out a week later. That way I can maybe meet up with Blake and Ryan, maybe even visit Chris in Boston."

Hugh nods, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Deal. A week later, and we'll have the best time. Just you and me."

We share another soft kiss, and can't help but laugh against his lips.

After our conversation, we lay there for a little while longer, basking in the afterglow of everything we’d just shared. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks felt lighter now that we’d talked about it.

Eventually, we sat up, and the idea struck me - if we were really ready to move forward, maybe it was time to let the world know about us on our own terms.

“I was thinking…” I start, glancing over at him. “We should post a photo of us."

Hugh’s eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. “You sure about that?”

I nod, feeling a sense of resolve I hadn’t felt before. “Yeah. I mean the media already knows about us and we can't hide anymore. So why not?"

A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s take a picture then.”

I chuckle. “But maybe we should put on some clothes first?”

Hugh laughs softly, the sound sending a warmth through me. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t scandalize the internet too much.”

As I sit up, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bedroom mirror and grimace slightly. My hair’s a mess from… well, everything, and I’m definitely not looking my best. “Ugh. I look awful.”

Hugh stands up and shakes his head with an amused smile. “You look perfect,” he says, casually reaching into his closet for a shirt. He pulls one on, his muscles stretching the fabric in a way that makes it hard for me to focus. “Come on, we’ll take a cute one.”

I roll my eyes playfully but grab one of his T-shirts from the drawer. “Fine, but if I look weird, we’re deleting it.”

“No way!” he teases, pulling me into his arms once I have the shirt on. “You could never look weird.”

I can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around me from behind. He holds the phone up in front of us, angling it to get the perfect shot. “Okay, smile!”

I glance up at him just as he snaps the picture. My smile turns into a laugh, the joy bubbling out of me before I can stop it. I look ridiculous, but when I see the photo, it’s kind of perfect. Hugh’s grinning at the camera, looking all charming and effortlessly handsome as always, while I’m gazing up at him, clearly laughing and obviously so in love.

I bite my lip, hesitating. “I don’t know… I look a little -"

“You look great." Hugh cuts in, his tone firm but soft. “Come on, y/n. This is us. It’s real.”

I glance at the picture again. He’s right. It’s not some polished, perfect photo shoot - it's just us. Happy, in love, and completely ourselves. I sigh, giving in. “Okay, fine. Let’s post it.”

He beams at me, clearly pleased, and starts typing a caption on his phone. I lean over his shoulder to read it:

>>thehughjackman: Caught laughing at all the rumors... guess they weren't all wrong🤫 #couplegoals<<

I laugh, rolling my eyes playfully "#CoupleGoals? Really?"

"You're right." he says, smirking as he backspaces. "How about.. #HughJackedY/n?"

I swat him laughing, and he finally posts it without any hashtag.

I take my smartphone and also post it with another caption:

>>y/ninstagram: Who knew Wolverine was such a softie?❤️🐺<<

And just like that, it’s out there. The world now knows officially. My heart pounds a little faster as the notifications start rolling in almost instantly. I feel a rush of nervous excitement—what will people say?

We sit there, watching as the comments flood in, one after another.

>>vancityreynolds: Took you long enough!<<

>>blakelively:This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Love you both!<<

>>ChrisEvans: Treat her right or Cap's coming for you!💪🏻<<

>>zendaya: Omg, stop! You guys are ADORABLE<<

>>officialladydeadpoolmovie: Deadpool approves of this union. Carry on.<<

I glance at Hugh as the comments keep pouring in, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and relief. There’s so much love here—so many people supporting us. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I told you it’d be fine,” Hugh says, his voice soft. He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “And look, everyone’s happy for us.”

I smile at him, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

More comments continue to roll in, some from fans, some from friends:

>>florencepugh: I KNEW IT!!!<<

But it’s the fan comments that really make me smile:

>>lordyx3z: Omg, I knew they were together! This makes me so happy!🥹😩<<

>>serenax77: Remember when y/n literally said 'fuck me' during an interview? Manifesting at its finest😂😂😭<<

>>hugh4ewa: Hugh, blink twice if y/n's forcing you to post couple pics😂<<

>>y/nno1fan: About damn time! Y'all had me waiting like the post credits scene of a Marvel Movie!<<

>>mynameseve: I need somebody to look at me, like y/n looks at Hugh😭❤️<<

>>girlpoolxpoppins: Can somebody pls check on Ryan? ASAP<<

>>boyinyellwspndx: y/n: "fck me!" - Hugh: "Say less". Dreams come true folks<<

I can’t help but grin at the flood of positivity. Sure, I know there will be some haters - there always are - but for now, it feels like we’re surrounded by love and support, and that’s all that matters. I glance at Hugh again, my heart swelling as he scrolls through the comments, laughing at some of the more playful ones.

“This was a good idea.” I say quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Of course it was.” he murmurs. “Now everyone knows you’re officially mine.”

I laugh softly, my heart feeling full. “And you’re mine.”

We sit there for a while, reading through the comments and enjoying the moment. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like we’re finally free to be ourselves without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And honestly? It feels perfect.

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01

Next part

[btsgotjams27]

things you don't know | jjk

summary: it’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. after moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

✨ title: things you don't know | one shot ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: M/17+ ✨ genre/au: angst | ex best friends!au | ✨ word count: 4.3k ✨ warnings: language, drinking, light kisses, miscommunication, reader jokes about unaliving her other best friend, mentions of throwing up ✨ prompt: “i thought i’d never see you again” ✨ a/n: heyoooo. so this is loosely based off a friendship i had in high school and in case you're wondering (irl) i haven't seen this man in over 17 years (oh gawd i'm old). anyway, thank you to @shina913 for being my beta.

✨ mini-series masterlist ✨

You were a fool to believe nothing could tear you and your best friend apart. Just like in the movies you'd watch for hours, you realized you were not the main character; he was. You were only part of the supporting cast, the best friend–not the one he wanted. Someone else had been occupying his mind, his thoughts, and you guessed you weren't privy to know all of him.

You wondered if you became the villain in his story. Were you the other woman? How could you have known if he never told you? He was your best friend. The one you shared everything with–your hopes, dreams, and even the dumbest little details of your life.

And maybe you expected too much. Maybe you had built a world of sunshine and rainbows and believed no storms could ever weather through. Maybe you cared too much, thinking he felt the same.

But at long last, you had become the girl jealous of Josie–the person who took away your best friend.

The city you lived in had grown vastly the last time you were here. Multiple lanes were added to the highways, and fields of land were cleared out for new homes, shops, and restaurants to try. Though the only thing on your mind was not bumping into him.

His was the only face you didn't want to run into in a city that felt familiar and unfamiliar. It felt silly. You're a grown woman with a car and an apartment–had bills to pay, and running into one person shouldn't haunt you as it did.

You might have done some detective work, going through old high school friends lists on Facebook and Instagram, lurking to see if he would show up. But as you suspected, he didn't exist on social media, so your chances of seeing him increased in your weird little mind.

The old hangout places were on your no-go list. Remember, you're trying to avoid him. He has not been on your mind every waking second, minute and hour. You weren't wondering how he was doing or if he was okay. He didn't deserve to occupy your mind, take all your energy.

But if you were to bump into him, you had a monologue ready to tell him how he had fucked up your mind, spiked all your insecurities, and hoped he and his stupid little girlfriend lived unhappily ever after. He deserved that, at least.

"Did you see Lillie's Instagram post? The one where a bunch of them were out celebrating Josie's birthday?" Lana asked, sipping on her iced vanilla latte. Lana was another high school best friend who didn't stomp all over your heart.

And regarding Lillie's post, it was hard not to see it when everyone you knew was tagged. Some things never change, you guessed. The same circle of friends, the same drama, the same gossip, but then again, you were sitting with one of your oldest friends.

"Yeah, I saw it."

And you also noticed how Jungkook wasn't in any photos. After doing your detective research and scouring through the internet. He was a ghost, not even showing up in tagged photos. You were hoping to get a glimpse of him in the background, but you hadn't seen a picture of him in years, so you had no idea if he had grown into that big 'ol nose of his or if he had gotten those piercings and tattoos he's always wanted. There was no trace of this man, not even in Josie's pictures.

Last you heard, they were still together, and you always rolled your eyes hard, remembering what Jeon Jungkook did to you. Didn't even have the fucking balls to say it to your face, but in a letter instead.

You suspected it was all Josie's fault. Probably afraid you'd steal him away, or he'd prefer to hang out with you. And you understood, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, just a friend. Ex-best friend, that is. So you supposed any girl that did like Jungkook would be intimidated by your friendship.

"Have you seen Jungkook at all?"

Lana knew what went down–dropping you like a fly, like you didn't exist. She had teased you like a madwoman because you were crushing hard on his friend, Jimin, and somehow ended up befriending Jungkook.

"Nope," you said flatly.

"So, you know how we always talk about Jungkook being untraceable? I think I found him," she said, pulling out her phone.

Your jaw clenched before huffing out a breath. Lana liked to poke the bear when it came to Jungkook. You knew it wasn't intentional, and there was a part that held onto those painful memories because you weren't over what he did to you. Countless nights of questions and if you could've done anything to save your friendship. Wondering what you did wrong and why he picked Josie instead of you. You thought he had feelings and just didn’t want to act on it.

Lana slid the phone over, her two fingers zooming in on a brightened photo. "It's definitely Jungkook," she pointed to a figure in the background.

You narrowed your eyes as she moved the photo around. Your heart skipped a beat. You'd recognize that nose anywhere. It was him. He wasn't a ghost. There was actual evidence that he existed.

"I searched for more photos, but nothing else came up."

You chuckled. "Of course not. Jeon Jungkook doesn't exist on social media. It was never his thing anyway. It was always Josie who liked the attention."

"As a couple, they make no sense to me. What does he see in her anyway?" Lana pondered, sucking up the last of her latte.

Josie was popular and pretty and did every extracurricular activity known to man. Jungkook was quite the opposite: introverted, kept to himself, played games day and night, yet somehow they still ended up together.

"I don't know. Maybe she has a great personality or something," you answered.

She had everything and could’ve had anyone in the senior class, and something always bothered you about their relationship. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Lana could see your despair and decided to change the subject. "What are you doing tonight? Jimin is having a small party and was super excited when I told him you moved back."

You narrowed your eyes, your lips thinned. "What are we? In high school again?"

"Come on, babe. It'll be just like old times. I'll even pick you up. I know you hate driving."

It's only been a week since you've moved back. You didn't even know where all of your cute clothes were. "I have nothing to wear." It was the best excuse you could come up with at the moment.

"I got you. Don't worry about it!"

Fuck—you should've opted for a different excuse.

"I thought you said this was a small party," you said, wearing a dress that was barely covering your ass. You'd get Lana back for putting you in the tightest dress.

"Trust me, this is small." Lana hooked her arm with yours, dragging you to the kitchen, where Jimin poured several soju bottles and sodas into a pitcher. It was quite the concoction.

“How can he afford this place?” you whispered as you stared at the fancy marbled island and large commercial refrigerator.

Lana shrugged. “I don’t think he lives by himself. Probably has roommates or something.”

"Ladies! You're here!" Jimin squealed, setting down the soju bottle. He hugged Lana before greeting you warmly. "Oh—it's so good to see you!" He wrapped his arms around you, moving you from side to side, digging his chin into your shoulder.

"It's good to see you too, Jimin. You're, um, still quite the host." His parties were all the rage in high school, and now that you look back, you're unsure what you saw in Jimin. He was a good guy, a great dancer, but he partied too much for your taste. Maybe you were shallow and just liked him for his looks.

"I have a reputation to uphold." He wiggled his eyebrows, handing you a shot glass. "I call this little drink 'Soju Sunrise.'" He held his glass, waiting for you to clink it against his.

"Here goes nothing." The glasses clack together, and the mixed liquids go down your throat as smooth as silk. Surprisingly, the cocktail is rather tasty, and you hold out your glass for another round.

"Yes! That's my girl!"

After multiple rounds of Jimin's Soju Sunrise, your body loosened up along with your tongue, being quite the chatterbox to everyone hanging around. The alcohol coursing through your veins made catching up with old friends less dull. Though you wish you could've had a sign plastered to you stating your job, why you were back, and what you've been up to. It would've made your life simpler.

As you exited the bathroom, Lana immediately pulled you into an empty bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"What the fuck, Lana?"

"He's here!" she exclaimed out of breath.

"Who?" Confusion sets on your face.

“He-who-must-not-be-named!”

"Voldemort?" You raised a brow, pouting your lips together.

She struck your head. You scowled, rubbing the spot. Still confused, you think back to the crowded room.

A lightbulb finally goes off. You blame the Soju Sunrise for making you an airhead. "You've got to be kidding me."

"She's here too."

Oh, how you'd rather be clawing your eyes out right now. It would hurt less than facing Jungkook and Josie after all these years.

You had your little monologue prepared and ready to go, but you didn't think you'd have to recite it. Did you even remember what you wanted to say?

You looked around the room and sprinted when you saw a window. Your hands fumbled with the lock, but it was too hard to open.

"What are you doing?" Lana asked, her eyebrows knitted together, watching you struggle.

"I'm gonna climb out the window." It was the only sensible thing to do.

"You're so fucking dramatic."

"It's the only way to avoid them."

Lana grabbed your arms and made you look at her. "You are a grown-ass woman. Put on your big girl panties and walk out that door with your head held high."

"But I don't wanna," you pout. "And I'm wearing granny panties." You lowered your head, staring at your dress, picturing the blush-colored panties with a little bow on the front.

"Granny panties with this dress?"

"What? I couldn't find other ones and I like full coverage." Curse you for not unpacking like you should've been doing.

"Would've been better if you went commando."

"Lana! I have some dignity."

"Do you, though? You won't even leave this room and face the one person who broke your heart."

"Thanks, Lana," you said flatly.

"You're welcome!" she smiled, shaking your body. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You rolled your eyes, staring blankly at her. She scanned you from head to toe, then back up to your chest. "Sweetie, we gotta make sure your tits are stunning." She dragged down the top of the dress, ensuring the swells of your breasts were peeking through.

"Lana, I'm not trying to seduce the guy." Okay—maybe you developed a crush on him, but it's not like you were going to make a move, he had a girlfriend for fuck’s sake.

"Yeah, who cares? We're trying to make Josie jealous."

"This is so high school," you comment, digging through your purse for your lipstick.

"Your point is?" Lana blinked.

You huffed. Okay—fine. If this were the only time you'd see Jeon Jungkook and Kim Josie, then fuck it. You could pretend everything was great for five minutes. Your hand went underneath your dress, tugging off your granny panties and tossing them on the ground.

"Holy shit—going commando too?" Lana squealed and clapped excitedly.

Hiking your dress up just a smidge, you were ready to smile and lie through whatever this dreaded conversation would bring up, probably old feelings of hurt and regret.

You hooked your arm through Lana's, with your shoulders back and head held high. This was it. After all this time, you would face the son-of-a-bitch who broke your heart and the cruel witch who took him away.

You had class—at least, you hoped you did. So, you'd play it cool, be calm and collected. Pretend like you had your shit together.

That is until you turned the corner and immediately spotted them snuggled up in the corner. Josie looked like a lovesick puppy all over him. Jungkook, not so much.

You clutched Lana's arm tighter and came to a halt. You repeated your short monologue in your brain from the bedroom to the living room, but it was as if your mind had wiped everything and your brain's connectors were short-circuiting.

Your eyes glistened as you watched the two. Josie sat on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. Your lower lip quivered, and your stomach sank. You weren't sure if you needed to hurl because of them or because of the soju. Perhaps both.

Jungkook pulled away from her grasp, seemingly annoyed by her show of affection. As soon as he turned away from her, his eyes landed on you.

You flashed a small smile and a wave of your hand. Who knew seeing Jungkook would make you feel the complete opposite of the narrative you had created? In your head, he was a heartless best friend who left you for a wicked witch, but here he was in the flesh and was just that big-nosed, doe-eyed boy whom you shared everything with. You missed him so much and wanted to catch up on life like no time had passed.

Lana turned to you. "Hey, what happened to the bad bitch persona? Aren't you gonna tell him off?"

"I'm so stupid, Lana. I can't do this." So much anger had been building up within the last seven years, but underneath that anger was just a girl who was heartbroken.

Lana nudged you in the ribs. You two watched as he pushed Josie off his lap, causing her to frown. You attempted to let go, but she pulled you in as Jungkook beelined toward you.

"Oh, my god! Jeon Jungkook in the flesh?" Lana said in a dramatic tone. "You do exist! I can't believe it. Well, I'm going to find myself another drink! Have fun catching up with your bestie!" She punched Jungkook's shoulder hard, and he scowled and flinched, massaging the spot.

You pressed your lips together, unsure what to say to him. It's been seven years since you last saw him. Once you graduated from high school, you were out of each other's hair. You were off to college a few hours away, and he stayed in town to attend a local university.

Jungkook cut off all forms of communication. It was like your friendship ceased to exist, which hurt you the most. The last thing you received from him was a measly little letter explaining that he was with Josie and that she didn't want you coming in between their relationship.

You couldn't understand why Jungkook couldn't just talk to you. Josie was never mentioned in conversations, nor did you see him with her, so it felt out of left field. If Jungkook told you he liked someone, you'd never stand in the way of his happiness. You thought he knew you better than that, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe you didn't know each other at all.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Jungkook said, the corners of his mouth curving into a warm smile.

You only paid attention to the glow-up Jungkook had. He did get the lip piercings he wanted, along with the tattoos. You could see them peeking through underneath his gray hoodie hanging off his shoulder. The white tank top defined his taut chest, letting you know he liked to work out. His damp hair curled in all the right places against the nape of his neck and his forehead. The silver chain adorning his neck looked pretty enough to tug on.

"You look great, by the way," Jungkook added, breaking you out of your daze.

"Oh, thanks. So do you." You manage to squeak out finally; then you remember how provocative you looked in your dress compared to sweet, innocent, looking Josie in her pink floral sundress, who was making their way toward you.

"Jungkook, can we please get a drink?" Josie whined, giving you the once over before latching onto Jungkook like the leech she was.

"You remember—"

Josie interrupted, "Yeah–don't remind me. Can we go?"

Josie stormed off toward the kitchen, leaving you and Jungkook behind. Did he have any say in their relationship, or did she tug him around like a puppy on a short leash?

You're stunned but not surprised by her remark. Once a bitch, always a bitch.

Turning your attention back to him, you realize you have nothing to say. The scars from this friendship were carved deeply into your heart; not even the monologue you rehearsed could dissipate the pain he caused.

"I—I gotta go," you said, taking off toward the bedroom because you couldn't fucking leave your underwear on a random stranger's floor. You had to save whatever dignity you had left.

"Wait—" He tried to grab your attention and followed you, walking through the hallway toward a room. He watched you go from one end of the room to the other, searching for something. "What are you doing in my room?"

You straighten your posture, slowly turning to him. "This is your room?"

"Yeah, Jimin and I share this place along with another friend.”

Oh, now you were going to fucking kill Lana. She knew. She must have! That's why she wanted to bring you here. And out of all the rooms, you had to pick Jeon Jungkook’s to leave your underwear in?

"Great," you said in exasperation. You turned back around in search of your panties. "Where the fuck is it?" It could only be in so many places.

"Where's what?"

You got down on your hands and knees, tugging your dress down, looking underneath the bed for your granny panties. "Nothing," you grumbled. "Fuck it. Forget it." You stood, walking past Jungkook. He could have your underwear as a keepsake, you suppose.

"Hey—" He gripped your arm. "Come on. This is how you greet me after all this time?"

You scoffed, glaring at him. "You're fucking kidding me, right? You're lucky I'm even speaking to you. You don't even deserve that."

He lets go of your arm. "We kind of ended on a sour note, but it wasn't my fault."

He couldn't see it, but smoke was fuming from your ears, and you wished your death glare could burn through him and maybe even through Josie. How fucking dare he put all the blame on you? And for what exactly? You might add that you did nothing but be his friend, and he ghosted you like you meant nothing to him.

"So it's my fault?" You assumed he was placing the blame on you. "How is it my fault? Please enlighten me, Jungkook."

He quieted down, cowering his head.

"You showed up holding hands with Josie, then proceeded to not talk to me like a human being and instead wrote me a fucking letter like the coward you are. A letter, for fucks sake. You could've had the common decency to say it to my face."

You walked out of language class, and there they were, hand in hand as you idly watched from behind. And he didn’t even hand you the letter. He had stuffed it in your locker.

Your words took him aback. His recount of how everything went down was different from yours. "I'm sorry," he said. His eyes flicked to yours before looking away.

"Well, it's too fucking late for apologies."

Jungkook called out to you, and you didn't look back, storming away from him. You passed by Lana, telling her you were leaving and that you'd talk to her later.

You ran out the front door, stopping at the sidewalk's edge, remembering that Lana drove. "Fuck," you grumbled, pulling out your phone to grab an Uber.

You were stupid to think Jeon Jungkook wouldn't affect you after all these years. Maybe it's because you haven't dealt with feeling abandoned by him. Maybe you wished you did more for your friendship. Whatever the reason, you knew moving back wasn't a good idea because you’d have to deal with this.

"Hey!" Jungkook called out. You looked over your shoulder and continued walking. He ran in front of you to grab your attention. "Can you talk to me?" he asked, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Why don't you fucking write me a letter? Since you're so good at that," you mocked as you shuffled around him. He was a shitty writer who could barely pass Creative Writing without your help.

"That's not fair."

You scoffed, stopping in your tracks to turn back to him. "Run back to your little girlfriend. Don’t you have to get her approval first before talking to me?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

You tut. "Yeah–okay." That was hard to believe, considering she was all over him.

"She's not. We haven't been together for a while now," Jungkook explained.

"You looked pretty cozy earlier."

Jungkook looks at the ground, kicking around an invisible rock. "It's complicated."

"That's great, Jungkook, but I really don't want to hear about your relationship problems. Good luck with Josie and in life. You two deserve each other." You pulled out your phone to see if the Uber was arriving.

Crossing your arms, you walked back toward Jimin's place. You wish you pinned the pick-up location somewhere else, but you'd have to endure his presence longer.

Jungkook followed, giving you some space, stopping when you did. His eyes raked over you. His dimple appeared and disappeared as he licked his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"When you got your acceptance letter to college, and you decided you were leaving, you didn't bother to ask about what I thought," he said, hands still in his pocket, staring at the ground. Your eyes flickered to him before looking away. He softly chuckled, "I thought to myself, what would I do without my best friend? I had nothing going for me, didn't even know what I wanted to do—still don't know what I want to do. And as much as you make me out to be the bad guy in your story, there are a lot of things you don't know."

You turned away from him as your eyes began to well up. You didn't want to cry before him, rehashing things from so long ago. You let out a shaky breath, trying to contain your emotions.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, using the back of your hand to wipe away the snot threatening to fall.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I would never want to keep you from something that made you happy," he admitted.

You were always open with each other, so you're unsure why this one thing made it seem like he couldn't be honest with you.

"Tell me one thing."

Jungkook hummed.

"Why didn't you tell me about Josie?" It was the one question that lingered since you received his letter.

His lips thinned. "Honestly?" You nodded. "It all happened so quickly. Jimin was throwing a party that night when you told me about going off to college, and I was in my head, overthinking everything. And Josie was there, being sweet and comforting me, and I don't know what came over me. I just kissed her to make myself feel better. Then, the next day at school, she took my hand and told everyone we were together."

"So, let me get this straight? I told you I'm going off to college. You get upset, kiss Josie because you were mad about me leaving, and then end up in a relationship with her?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous."

You turned to him, hitting him across the chest several times. He held his hands up to block you. "Because Jeon Jungkook, it is ridiculous! God–you're such—a—" you groaned. "Do you know how much you hurt me? We could've avoided all this if you had just talked to me. Life could've been different for us. You could've come with me, and then we could've been together."

"Together?" He stared at you with his starry brown eyes.

"Yes, you dummy! I liked you, if you couldn't tell. I was going to tell you, but then you and Josie happened, and well, you know how the rest of the story goes."

You closed your eyes and let out a long-awaited breath. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, getting all this out in the open. You weren't expecting Jungkook to do anything to make you feel better, but at least he could hear what you wanted to say after all these years.

Your uber pulled up and you opened the door, holding onto it as you looked at Jungkook. A glimpse of the boy you once knew still lingered in his eyes. If you could go back and do it all over again, you would've fought harder for him, fought for what the two of you had. It was too precious of a friendship to let go just like that. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way.

There were no forms of time travel or alternate dimensions where the two of you could've lived happily ever after, and there were only the choices you made here and now.

"Bye, Jungkook."

✨ read part two | read part three ✨

[midniiights-garden]

Your Eyes... They're like Diamonds. Mizu x Fem!Reader [2]

Summary: The second part of your encounter with Mizu. Things will get heated, but by how much is the question.

Possible TWs!!: Suggestive themes, nudity, cursing

IF YOU ARE NOT 18+ PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING!!

"What?"

Mizu stared at you, completely and utterly confused. Did... Did you just ask her to stab you? Most people would be terrified to have her blade at their throat yet you seemed a little bit too eager. A bit too happy. She lowers her katana, now attempting to recover herself. She was still buck ass naked after all.

"I'm sorry... What did you just ask me?" Mizu asks again, brows drawn as she continues to try to comprehend what you just said.

"I-I, uh-!" I stutter, now realising how awkward this was. The words hadn't meant to slip out of my mouth yet it happened. However, I was terribly underequipped socially to respond. I could only stare (at her face... not anything else...) as I feel my face heat up, not able to do anything much.

"Did... why?" Mizu continues.

"I... you're just... you know... really pretty...?" I squeak, feeling my face get redder and redder with each word. Despite being in a snowy landscape I defintely did not feel it. My entire body was hot with both shame and embarassment, my eyes refusing to meet Mizu's.

On the other hand Mizu is absolutely reeling. Were you joking? You didn't seem like it. No, you were far too embarassed by your words to have been joking. But... did that mean you were attracted to women? And if you were... why did she actually feel happy about it?

Mizu did not have a great many examples of romantic nor sexual relationships. Her mother raised her alone (for obvious reasons), Master Eiji's wife was dead and then there was whatever the hell Akemi and Taigen had. So, not many good examples. And her own past marriage was... not great either. To put it lightly. Mizu had always just assumed she was solely attracted to men and yet here she was, absolutely confused as to why she felt so elated that there was a possibility you were attracted to her. Scratch that: that you were definitely attracted to her.

I had been standing there for a while now as Mizu lost herself in her thoughts, my face somehow continuing to go red. Why? Why did she have to be built so beautifully? From her lithe form to the curve of her hips and breasts it was so incredibly hard to keep your thoughts PG13.

"Uh... M-Mizu?" I manage to croak. "Do you... maybe... want to put some clothes on...?" With that Mizu's trance is broken, her eyes snapping upwards to meet mine (much to my dismay). She marches forward, pinning me against a nearby tree. Her hands are on either side of my face, her eyes glaring daggers into mine.

"Do you think this is funny?" She hisses, still not wanting to believe the things I had said.

I shake my head. "N-No! Not at all! Mizu, I'm being serious-"

She doesn't allow me to finish, her lips enclosing over mine before I could even get a word in. My breath hitches in my throat, breathing completely stopped as she kisses me. Her lips were so... so soft. Holy shit. I was in absolute heaven. Once she pulled away I swore I was going to pass out, her brilliant blue eyes staring into mine.

She huffs, her heart hammering in her chest. Mizu didn't understand why she felt like this. She didn't understand why she was so... turned on? Was she turned on? She defintely felt like she was turned on. Watching the way your face moved, the widening of your eyes, the twitch of your lips and the furrow of your brows. When had you gotten so pretty? Without thinking Mizu trails her hand towards your hip, rubbing circles over your clothed skin.

"What the fuck is this..." Mizu grumbles, moving her lips towards your neck.

"M-Mizu?" I squeak, eyes widening even further. I felt hot. So hot. Even more hot than before. If my earlier heat was caused by embarassment this bout of heat was caused by the fact that she was quite literally feeling me up now.

"Do you want this?" Mizu finally whispers.

(A/N: HAHAHAHAHA YOU THOUGHT FUCKERS. Jk im gonna continue this, i just felt like it needed some prerequisite explanation and build up as i wanted to really emphasisize the point that Mizu was confused. Plus, in my personal headcanons (and somewhat canon) she is rather hesitant to initiate or engage in physical intimacy. So, ig my own fanfic is breaking my own characterization a lil 😭😭😭)

[deltadarlingf1]

On the Reality of Dating a Famous/Wealthy Man:

I was going to post this on Twitter but decided I wanted to a do a long form post. So an explanation of this tweet, which was inspired by the screenshot just below it:

First a disclaimer: I am not at ALL saying Mick is anything like the men I'm about to talk about (I genuinely doubt it). I'm using this response to him hard-launching his relationship as an example of the mindset I see in a LOT of the young female F1 fans. If you read the gossip blogs, you've seen posts like this and worse, particularly on Charles, Pierre, Danny, and Carlos's gfs.

As I said in my tweet, if these young girls knew what it can be like behind closed doors for the WAGs of the rich and the famous, they probably wouldn't make statements like this.

I see a lot of younger fans here on social media posting their imagines and fan fics, and as someone a bit older than them, it does worry me. I know for most people it's simple fantasy and fun, but when I see things like the above I know there are some younger girls that really just don't get it.

My aim in posting this is that maybe it'll be a bit of a reality check for some of those girls. And I don't mean that in a bullying way, I mean that in a "please don't look at these smiling pretty girls with the closet full of designer, perfect body, and seemingly perfect life and feel bad about yourself" way.

Lastly, how do I know any of what I'm about to talk about? I wish I was just chatting shit, but I have lived through all of what I'm posting below as the daughter of a "man" of wealth. His money came from corporate life, not fame, but when you have as much as my "father" did/does, you rub elbows with the famous. Everything I detail below happened to me, my mother, and the wives of my "father"'s coworkers. I'm now watching history repeat itself as I've moved up the corporate ladder and find myself around millionaires and billionaires on a regular basis.

1. The "Starter Wife" Phenomenon

In wealthy circles there's the concept of a "Starter Wife". This is the woman wealthy/famous men marry because they were high school sweethearts, worked together early on, or they dated before the man had his "come up". Sometimes men marry these women and have kids for the SOLE purpose of having the "Family Man" persona. For famous men, this can be good PR. For wealthy men, this can boost their career.

A lot of these men fucking HATE their wives. By the time they have money, they want the freedom of single life back. They can now afford their "dream woman" and loathe being "stuck" with their current wife because of it. Leading to:

2. Serial Cheating

These men have all the money and resources they need to live a double life. Not to mention built-in time and an alibi: They're on the road all the time for their job, work trips, events, etc. No time unaccounted for because they're always working.

Some of those work trips to wine-and-dine clients include runs to the local strip club, escorts, and in some cases some of those escorts are of INCREDIBLY questionable age (in reality, they are victims of trafficking). Again, I wish I was talking out of my ass, I have seen this shit with my own eyes and wish to the Gods I hadn't. Then there's also:

3. Domestic Violence

This is bad enough when it's a wealthy man whose built that "Family Man" persona to protect himself, but it's even worse when they're famous. No one believes the victims, in some cases the woman is financially stuck and can't just take the kids and run when it happens.

And for some women it hard to leave the man they thought their partner was and, yes, to let the lifestyle go. Speaking of the lifestyle there's:

4. The Loneliness

This is a big one for the F1 girlies I see posting their imagines and fanfics and what not. The fairytale of "he'll make time for me because he loves me and I'd be special. I'd be different."

These men are busy as shit. That Cartier Bracelet you envy on these girls is often a "sorry I missed your birthday". The big bouquet of roses is a "sorry I had to leave our trip early." Yes, we know the joke "well at least I can cry in a Ferrari", but that shit will wear on you more than you can believe. I can't tell you growing up how hurt I was when my performances were missed, major dates were forgotten, or my proud life updates were met with "yeah, uh-huh, hold on I have to take this call."

Of course there are good times, of course there's memories you'll cling to, but when you're out, you often realize how alone you felt in the relationship. Lastly, and most poignant with this F1 WAG nonsense:

5. Keeping Up Appearances

You're no longer your own person in a relationship with these men, you are an extension of them. With famous men, you're a part of their "branding".

You have to look a certain way, act a certain way, talk to the right people, have the right friends. In the corporate-wealth world, that means making your partner look good, playing the part of the trophy wife and perfect mother. Smile in front of those coworkers that you know just spent the last business trip drinking, gambling, and cheating on their wives. Wear the right dress to the corporate dinner to make his coworkers envy him, but don't dress too sexy or he'll grow angry and think you're trying to cheat.

If you're dating someone famous, by the GODS, you better look immaculate in every post. You better be there to support him at his events, but if you're there too often you're "attention-seeking". You better have model good-looks, but if you ARE a model, you're "a jobless loser trying to profit on him". Don't post him on your IG, but if you happen to post that you're in the same city as him, you're "dropping hints". If he posts you, it's only because you "probably begged him to".

It's a maddening dance where you cannot win for losing. And once you break up, enjoy letting the world decide if he should have stayed with you, or if they're relieved that he finally got away from "that selfish bitch".

Do what you will with the above. I just wanted to get it off my chest. But I do hope that maybe, MAYBE, it'll give someone that needs it some perspective.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Isn't the "Meghan is such a foodie" thing from her Cory days? I remember reading (in Revenge by TBower) that it really annoyed Cory when she started doing that. People who knew her said she took all the talking points from his personality as a professional, avant garde celeb chef and made it her own. Even his signature recipes.

Then back in her Trever days, she went in and on about the craft of movie making and being an insider. Allegedly Trever is a really out going personality, loves to network and is quite slick/glib. People have also said he is super confident, laid back, know-it-all type who is good at his work. So she took that from his personality, learnt the ropes of networking and enterpreneurship from him and launch Tig.

From Jessica, she learnt the ropes of high-end, trust fund baby lifestyle. Used all get contacts and social accumen of knowing the right people, getting in the right circles and curating an 'instagram aspirational' lifestyle (at least superficially) and became a wannabe lifestyle guru.

I won't say she somehow glommed onto Catherine and took pieces of her personality to make her own. I think all of her past cosplays and successful grifting made her believe that she was a better copy of the people she was copying. She measured her success by the print and media coverage she got and from what she made people believe she was. So, she thought being a better Catherine than Catherine herself was easy. And she got mad when she couldn't hack it.

And she couldn't have it because she couldn't control the media coverage. Her PR was limited in face of how much people saw her live, in action at various events. Especially the events she didn't think we're important.

Behind closed doors she could convince Harry that she was a better royal than born royals because he is just dumb that way. If you criticised the people he doesn't like he will love you and that's what she did. But also, the biggest factor in her failure is garty himself.

Had he not been the way he is - with his own issues and grievances and entitlement and resentments and nasty reptilian nature- then she would have successfully become the best royal to ever royal. She would have stayed in the BRF, did her Hollywood thing, been half in/out, made money merching and the brf would have just covered it up for her.

I do think she hadn't counted on Harry having his own 'Hollywood Harry' dreams.

I don't think Harry had Hollywood dreams. His dream appears to have been "British aristo in the US," where literally everything he had in the UK, he had in the US. He had no interest in Hollywood other than using them as replacements for the British aristo circuit he left behind in London. And if you look at everything he's done here in the US, that's pretty much what he's done. Minus the military uniform, Diana-like worship, and Cambridge-like popularity.

Whereas Meghan's dream was legitimately the Hollywood dream - writing, producing, acting like George Clooney or influencing like Gwyneth Paltrow or grifting like the Kardashians. She didn't want the life she had in the UK back here in the US. She wanted the life she had in Canada but with UK finances and here in the US.

And neither was willing to budge on what they wanted. That's the core root (or rot, I suppose) of why they're always failing. There's no compromise about what they want or what they're going to do.

(Contrast that with William and Kate, who have a shared plan built on compromise.)

[cartograffiti]

The books I read for the StoryGraph's Genre Challenge 2024

For a nonfiction book about food and/or drink...I read Tasting History by Max Miller. A straightforward choice, recipes and history by a YouTuber I have enjoyed.

For a historical novel set before 1900...I read The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett. Set beginning in 1547!

For a biography or memoir about/by a musician...I read Behind the Seams by Dolly Parton with Holly George-Warren and Rebecca Seaver. A memoir all about clothes people have made for Dolly over her career, also featuring hair and wig styling and make-up artists.

For manga...I read Witch Hat Atelier Vol. 1 by Shirahama Kamome (translated by Stephen Kohler). Another easy fit!

For a thriller or crime novel in translation...I read Malice by Higashino Keigo (translated by Alexander O. Smith). From Japanese, one of the Detective Kaga novels.

For a nonfiction book about psychology...I read On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes by Alexandra Horowitz. An inexact fit; this book is also about nature, design and social habits.

For a science fiction or dystopian book by a woman or nonbinary author...I read A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers. A robot and a monk in the far future, on an alien moon.

For a middle grade book with queer representation...I read Battle Magic by Tamora Pierce. I have a feeling I wouldn't have counted this as middle grade if I hadn't just read those of the Emelan books that aim closer to that age group. The other Circle Reforged books reinforce that trio being YA, but that wasn't part of my initial takeaway from BM, so I'll stick to it!

For a short story collection by a Black author...I read Filthy Animals by Brandon Taylor. The stories in this collection interlink, and I saw more than one take that they shouldn't therefore count as short stories, which I was happy to find is, in this case, silly. Chapters are a different creature.

For a debut literary or contemporary fiction novel...I read Dial A for Aunties by Jesse Q. Sutanto. Sutanto's first book, this is a genre-straddler, but it's most neatly in contemporary.

I liked or loved all of these! The Dunnett, Shirahama, and Chambers books have sequels I have been devouring as well, and Malice impressed me so much I look forward to trying more Higashino.

On Looking is the book I'm least likely to recommend, with a caveat--I think some of the writing, as it transcribes conversations, only worked for me because I listened to the audiobook. It did work!

The memoir prompt pushed me the most out of my usual reading habits. I was also delighted to have a push back into reading manga, which I hadn't dipped into for several years. And the prompt I had the most fun looking for an eligible book was the crime novel in translation! This was a pleasant, easy challenge, but still specific enough to be inspiring.

[classicsubliminalbo]

Captured #1: The Tip

Originally published Jun 21, 2016 This series is being revised

When I started investigating crime around Carpenter State University, I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. It was just a small blog that I ran out of my apartment, but word spread fast and soon I had students all around campus sending me emails asking for my help. Since I learned to read I've wanted to be a journalist, and I knew as a student that I wasn't powerless to act. I could be the voice for the voiceless. I could use my talent now, while I'm here. That's why I started blogging. I made enemies quickly too--the fraternities, the athletics department, eventually the college administration. Remember the Carpenter State football scandal? The coach who gave hookers to recruits? I broke that story after the administration thought it was safely buried. I've been the bad guy, I've been the hero. But I don't care what you think of me. I'm only doing the right thing.

But I know you're not here for my background as an investigative blogger. You want to hear about my internship with Santiago Cruz, about how she turned me into her brainwashed slave, another loyal fashion blogger who mindlessly dismisses the dubious ethics behind Obedience By Fleur. You want to hear about the pleasure I receive following my Mistress' commands. How she took the champion of social justice that I used to be and molded me into a compliant puppet begging for my next command. But that's not where this story begins. First, let me tell you about Piper.

When I met Piper she was a biology major with zero background in journalism or writing. But Piper had been inspired by my blog, and she volunteered to help me. She became my first employee. By that time I'd built up quote the reputation around school and investigating leads was becoming difficult. Piper could slip into any party, event, or class unnoticed. I have to admit I envied her--I loved the chase, and I often felt relegated to the computer when Piper was out doing the real work. But that was the price I payed for kicking this particularly hornet's nest. Piper admitted to me that she hadn't been passionate about social issues until she started reading my blog, but ever she'd plowed through all of my articles in a night and felt a call to action. A few friends in her circle had started their own watch groups, but Piper wanted to be involved with me. She wanted to see change in action. She was loyal, devoted to nothing but bringing justice back to Carpenter State. She had a great heart.

I didn't think much of it when Piper volunteered to investigate rumors that a sorority on campus was forcing pledges to wear Obedience by Fleur lingerie. Stories about the product had been popping up around campus, but it was difficult to investigate anything. Many of the girls who wore the lingerie had done it willfully, and I suspected the ones who didn't, like the Alpha Delta Theta pledges, were too brainwashed to say anything. That's why this story was a great opportunity to finally take on a growing issue in the community. It wasn't just a feeling anymore, I'd been given names, locations, even testimony of what the Alpha girls were doing to the pledges when they were under. My source said it had begun with menial tasks like cleaning house and tending bar. But the older girls had grown power hungry, and soon they were taking their pledges to bed.

Pledge season was over, but Piper slipped in as an outsider, making friends with one of the Alpha Delta Theta girls at a prohibition era-themed St. Patrick's Day party. After expressing an interest in pledging in the fall, Piper's new friend took her to Madison Wells, the sorority president. Piper learned quickly that Madison was the mastermind of the whole Obedience by Fleur hazing, and she was getting the most out of her slaves. Madison was sitting on the couch, two slaves on either side of her. They didn't seem to have much to do other than cuddle up close to her, but Piper got the impression that they were more a part of Madison's ego trip than actually serving a purpose at the party. Another girl stood by her at all times, arms at her side, eyes staring forward in that robotic expression waiting for her orders. "Another drink, Abigail," Madison would say, and her slave would reply, "Yes, sister," before marching off to fetch her another cocktail. "Are you enjoying the party?" Madison asked Piper as the young investigator took a seat on the sofa across from Madison's couch.

"Yes," Piper replied. "It's very classy," Madison smiled and nodded. "I know the roaring twenties isn't the most original theme but I'm a literature major and I just can't get enough of Fitzgerald." The girl returned with a glass and Madison took a sip and continued to speak to Piper. The young girl by her side looked hurt to be ignored by her mistress, but she returned to her statuesque stance. "Have you had a drink?" Madison asked Piper. "No," Piper replied. "Not yet. Are they...?" She pointed to the two girls cuddling close to Madison. "My slaves, for now," Madison continued to smile. "Before we just had pledges dress up in ridiculous outfits and run down the street but I think this is the best hazing I've ever come up with." "How long are they going to be like that?" "Oh, just for the semester," Madison stroked the head of her left slave. The young girl returned a desiring whimper. "Once they've learned loyalty to our sisters, I'll release them. Of course they're free to think on their own outside of the house, so they can attend classes and work and I give them proper time for homework too but they have to do their chores first. The house has never looked this nice. And the party, they're such great decorators, aren't they?"

Piper nodded, trying not to look too disgusted.

"So what makes you want to be an Alpha girl?" Madison asked. "I've been looking for a sorority to pledge to since I started last fall," Piper lied. She despised everything about Greek life, and she wasn't even a freshman. "But so far I just...haven't liked the culture. Nothing fits for me."

"Oh?" Madison raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you know that membership isn't the only thing you pledge to Alpha Delta Theta." Madison turned her attention to her right slave, reaching around the young woman's body and squeezing her breast. A tiny squeak escaped from the girl's lips. "Some of the girls were reluctant, but Tina here, she couldn't wait to pledge her mind to the sisters." "Sister," Tina said in her quiet voice. "Are you going to play with me?" "Not now, Tina. Remember that patience is a virtue," Madison looked back to Piper and continued, "I like this one so much that I may have to keep her when the semester is over. I don't think she'll mind."

Piper's eyes darted to the floor. Her heart must have been jacked as she watched Madison's display of power over her pledges. "To tell you the truth," Piper began. "I want to feel the pleasure of serving Alpha Delta Theta too," More lies, but Piper knew that she had to say what she had to say to keep Madison dumb.

Madison's eyes scanned Piper's body and she concluded with a kind smile, "You're cute! I can't wait to have you as one of my sister's."

Piper broke away from the crowd at her first chance, finding a closet to hide in and message me. She sent me one text: "Got some good stuff. Snuck some pictures. Getting out of here." Piper hit send and heard the squeak of the doorknob behind her. She spun around to face the open door, the bright lights of the party, and a disappointed Madison standing before her. "Oh shit," Piper said.

The next morning I awoke to find no new messages from Piper. It was alarming, but I figured that she must have passed out when she got home and I left my apartment to track her down. Her place was just around the corner, and when I got there I buzzed for her to let me in but there was no response. She wasn't answering my texts, her phone went straight to voicemail. I told myself that it had been a late night and she was still in bed, so I sat down on a bench and waited. Regardless of what I hoped, I was starting to get the feeling that Piper had never made it home. And when I get a feeling, I'm almost never wrong.

Back at the sorority, the girls had passed out after a long night of partying. But in her bedroom, Madison was wide awake training her newest pledge. "Don't you feel so much better?" Madison asked, admiring her slave's athletic body. "Yes, sister," Piper replied, standing at attention for her mistress, stripped down to nothing but her new pair of Obedience by Fleur lingerie. "You were trying to get me in trouble," Madison frowned. "I'm sorry, sister Madison. I was a bad girl." "Mmm, that's right," Madison hummed as she slipped her hand down into Piper's panties. "Now I'm going to have to punish you." "Please," Piper breathed. The once independent girl had nothing on her mind now but the wishes of her mistress, the desire to be punished and the rewards she would receive through obedience. Piper was a strong woman, but even she couldn't fight the powerful waves of pleasure circulating through her body, and Madison had promised more pleasure if she submit. So she did. "Please, punish me." Piper repeated.

Madison smiled. "When I'm through with you, you'll be my masterpiece."

[elsiebarnes]

ABOUT — Elsie Barnes

name: elsie barnes

nickname: el, ellie, barnes

age: 35 years old

neighbourhood: briar ridge hill

career: event planner

time in briar ridge: most of her life, returned a week ago

IN-DEPTH — 

Ever since elsie was little, she could remember watching the stars and hoping for something bigger than the small town that she was born into. A small farmland that became her parents pride and joy but felt more like a prison to their only child.

They'd often share stories of their wilder nights out in town, all before her birth and the accident that had taken her mother's hearings and forced them to retreat from society.

For the most part, Elsie was a good kid in order not to create too much of a ripple effects on her parents who were hardworking and caring. But the end of high school brought out a sense of curiosity and a need to test the limits.

When the opportunity came for her to leave town, she jumped at the chance. It felt like it was fate as she'd just gotten a remote job as a personal assistant that provided her with the flexibility to live and be anywhere in the world.

The move to boston was much needed and breathed new life into her. She discovered a new town, a new relationship, and found more of herself there than she could have ever anticipated.

A few years came and went and her relationship came to an abrupt end with her ex-boyfriend returning home while she stayed in boston for the next few years.

It was time for her to discover what she wanted to do without having to put anyone else before herself. She explored herself in ways she hadn't felt like she was ever able to in briar ridge, even following a new career that opened doors she could have never imagined.

The life she built in boston felt like everything she'd dreamt of. Her work providing her with a larger circle or people and a reputable name for herself around popular circles but it all came crashing down with the news of her mothers diagnosis. The following week, she ended her lease and rushed home to help her parents cope with the news and land they adored so much.

It has now been a week of living back on the small patch of land she so desperately wanted to leave, and the feeling of being stuck has been heavier than ever before. But not as heavy as the guilt of the time she may have lost with her mother.

CONNECTIONS — 

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND: Elsie didn't do a lot of socialization outside of school and school activities so this would have either been a friend from class, school or the neighbourhood that she clung too given that she was an only child.

OLD FRIENDS: i kind of want them to have a falling out and they can run into each other, maybe realize how much they've missed each other since they're now in the same town.

RIVALS: Elsie is coming to town in the hope of making some kind of living, she's not normally the competitive type but maybe people see her as that and she isn't sure how to react. Potentially a one sided rivalry.

EXES: she dated people while she was in high school and was very much a people person so she would have probably had a few relationships during school and when she was in boston, after she broke up with her bf.

HOOK UPS / TINDER DATE: a lot of potential here because she is the type to date around and put herself out there, but this would have mainly been before she left for boston so a lot of time in between. Maybe they thought she ghosted them.

WORK / EMPLOYEES: eventually, she might want to get an assistant or work for a company so this could be someone that she works with or a vendor/photographer she works with a lot.

MORE TO COME AS WE PLOT

[haggishlyhagging]

We have to face the fact that pieces have been cut out of us to make us fit into this society. We have to try to imagine what we could have been if we hadn't been taught from birth that we are stupid, unable to analyze anything, "intuitive," passive, physically weak, hysterical, overemotional, dependent by nature, incapable of defending ourselves against any attack, fit only to be the housekeeper, sex object, and emotional service center for some man, or men, and children. And that only if we're lucky—otherwise we must act out a commercial mockery of even these roles as someone's secretary!

We didn't get this way by heredity or by accident. We have been molded into these deformed postures, pushed into these service jobs, made to apologize for existing, taught to be unable to do anything requiring any strength at all, like opening doors or bottles. We have been told to be stupid, to be silly. We have had our mental and emotional feet bound for thousands of years. And the fact that some of the pieces that have been cut out of us are ones we can never replace or reconstruct—an ego, self-confidence, an ability to make choices—is the most difficult of all to deal with.

All of the women I know who have done things, jumped hurdles, and stepped even a pace outside of the charmed circle of the bourgeois family, have had to face the damage that has been done to them, and struggle with the rules they have internalized. To some of us, this process has taken the form of a "nervous breakdown"; for others, a long period of sheer personal horror; to others, a more drawn-out process of repeatedly sinking under despair, and rising again. I think that for some of my generation, caught in the kind of double binds we have all been caught in, it is impossible to achieve revolutionary consciousness without some sort of confrontation with the self. Politically, this is both a weakness and a strength. It is an asset to come to political understanding through personal pain: it makes possible a gut understanding of how society works as a system dependent on the personal suffering and deprivation of each of us. Such understanding is a help in building a revolutionary movement. Only by realizing what we might have been, can we imagine how different women in a post-revolutionary society might be able to be. But knowing that we cannot achieve this ourselves, that no matter how we struggle we are still in some part of ourselves "damaged goods" (to use the appropriate capitalist terminology), that we can see what has gone wrong within ourselves, and still be unable to put it permanently right—this is very painful and discouraging. But it is necessary: it is this realization that makes it evident that there really are no individual solutions to woman's oppression, no way that one can float free of our society and its conditioning. The pain of it is what makes us search so urgently for new forms of social organization that can help us, and others, change and transcend our limitations. This pain is what makes us realize, in our everyday lives, that social change is absolutely necessary. As Lucy Stone put it almost a century ago:

“In education, in marriage, in everything, disappointment is the lot of women. It shall be the business of my life to deepen this disappointment in every woman's heart until she bows down to it no longer.”

The things that mess us up are so built into the structure of society that only the most radical of social changes—one far more radical in its attack on the basic institutions of this society that traps us, and far more drastic in the changes it effects on human consciousness, than previous revolutions—has a chance of doing the job, of freeing us and freeing those who will be born out of our lives.

-Meredith Tax, ‘Woman and Her Mind: The Story of Everyday Life’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[elsanna-shenanigans]

September 2024 Contest Submission #1: time doesn't stop for a sad little girl

Words: 3,326 Setting: modern AU CW: off page physical assault, self hatred, blood

Elsa was, no matter how she didn’t like to admit it, quite predictable. She knew what she liked, and she liked to know what to expect in any given situation. Know who will show up, what food will be available, and on what exact date she will meet up with someone.

Surprises for Elsa were rarely happy. Even if the thing surprising her was something she would enjoy, she would always prefer to know beforehand and be able to prepare. Consequently, she very rarely tried surprising people. ‘Hey Elsa, let’s throw a surprise birthday party for Anna!’ would be met with a cold ‘What’s the point? Anna knows when her birthday is, how will that surprise her?’. On the very rare occasions she did try surprising someone (usually Anna), the effort would be obvious to anyone long before the actual surprise happened.

And she wasn’t really bothered by that. Sure, being called predictable was just one step away from being called boring (which, sadly, was also happening quite often), but it was also one step away from being called stable. She built a reputation of a person you can always rely on, given enough heads up.

In short, Elsa liked to always know what to expect from others, and others always knew what to expect from Elsa.

Usually, that is.

“What the fuck, Elsa?” Anna whispered in horror.

Elsa looked down, at Kristoff lying on the floor, holding his bloody nose, and at her still clenched fist.

The room felt deadly silent, despite the horrible quality speakers still blasting music loud enough to hurt your ears.

She looked around, and was met with dozens of faces. Some were amused, some were scared, but all were shocked.

She turned and ran away.

*****

Elsa was predictable, which meant that Anna knew exactly where to find her. She noticed the door opening, and her sister’s socks came into view, as Anna entered her room and sat on the bed Elsa had been hiding under.

Usually, she’d lay on the floor and crawl next to Elsa. This was a worrying sign.

“I’m mad, Elsa.” She heard Anna’s voice from above. “No, I’m pissed off.”

Elsa shuddered a bit, but stayed quiet. Anna continued after a heavy sigh.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Elsa whispered, doubting Anna could actually hear her.

“Louder. I can’t understand you.” Anna didn’t bother hiding her annoyance, as Elsa gulped loudly.

“I don’t know.” She repeated, louder.

She could hear the bed shift a little. “You… don’t know?” Anna deadpanned.

Elsa shook her head, forgetting Anna won’t see her. “I don’t.”

The bed shifted again, and the weight disappeared. “Fine, whatever. I am not going to try and dig through your brain for you. Get out of my room and go figure it out. Don’t come back until you do.”

Elsa shivered. “Anna…” She began, but was cut off.

“Get out.”

Elsa nodded to herself and crawled out from under the bed. She stood up, and noticed Anna, who was very purposefully not looking her way.

She moved to the door, when she heard Anna again. “Wait.” She turned to Anna, hopeful.

Anna still refused to meet her eyes. “You didn’t ask, but I will tell you anyway. Kristoff will be fine. He has a broken nose, but he will recover.”

Elsa felt cold as she realized she hadn't even thought about him. She gulped again, nodded, and left.

*****

Elsa was, still, predictable, and so her next hiding spot was near her favorite tree. Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t really her favorite tree; it was Anna’s. Did she even have any special places that weren’t directly tied to Anna?

God, does she even have a life outside of her sister?

All her friends are Anna’s friends. Some were first Elsa’s friends, sure, but most were not, and by now their social circle has become so muddled Elsa and Anna were basically seen as one, with the only exceptions being Kristoff not dating Elsa as well.

They obviously live together, officially in separate rooms, but sleepovers were so common they more often slept in one room than two.

They both started multiple hobbies because of the other, shit, half the stuff they bought was shared.

At this point, they owned more things between each other than alone.

What was she without Anna? Who was Elsa but Anna’s sister?

She really didn’t want to find out.

But at this rate, she might have to.

She took a deep breath, and went a few steps away from the tree. Maybe she could find her own tree?

She noticed a small oak growing near a pond. It was shaped in a near perfect way to just sit down under it and think. Ponder. Ponder over a pond, Anna would love-

Nope! She sighed and looked upwards. Autumn has just begun, and the leaves turned a beautiful red shade, almost exactly like Anna’s hai-

She groaned in her hands. She was hopeless.

She decided to ignore it for now, and focus on the matter at hand.

Her still hurting hand. She massaged her knuckles lightly. Why did she punch him?

She tried to remember back to that moment. The party was in full swing, Kristoff and Anna had just finished a slow, romantic dance and…

She clenched her fist again. He was groping and kissing her. And everyone cheered him on!

Granted, a punch may be a bit of an overkill, but it’s not like he’d hear her over the music! And she had to do something!

Especially since clearly no one else was going to.

But would that answer satisfy Anna? Probably not. Why did seeing him kiss Anna make her so… so angry?

As far as she knew, he was a good boyfriend to her. Anna never really complained.

Though now that she thought about it, she rarely ever talked about him at all.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, Anna did seem to enjoy it.

So why? Why did she hate to admit it? What was wrong with her?

She groaned again, and quickly got up and turned, as she heard footsteps approaching.

“Anna?” Did she follow her here? She did know all of her hiding spots. Well, their hiding spots.

“Nope, just me.” Honeymaren answered, coming into the view, with a sad smile on her face.

“Oh.” Elsa tried to hide her disappointment, as she sat down again. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I didn’t.” Honeymaren responded, sitting down in front of her. “Anna did. Then I followed the sound of frustrated groaning.”

Elsa relaxed slightly. Of course Anna would still care!

“However,” Honeynmaren continued. “she did want me to tell you that she only told me for my sake, not yours. I really wanted to find you.”

“Oh.” That was… worse. But she could work with worse. “So why did you want to find me?”

“Because I have known you for over a decade and never saw you physically assault anyone. I’m worried, Elsa. What happened? Why did you do that?”

Elsa sighed again, refusing to look at her friend’s face. “He was kissing Anna.”

Honeymaren raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes? And she was kissing back? You do know they are a couple, right?”

Elsa hugged her knees and hid her face in them. “Mmph.” She let out something that could pass for a hum of agreement.

She felt a slight nudge at her knee. “Hey, look at me. I can’t help you without understanding you.”

Elsa somehow managed to lift her chin and lean it on her knees to look at her friend. “Help me with what?” She blew away a few annoying strands of hair from her face. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Honeymaren moved slightly to face her. “You broke Kristoff’s nose.”

“That just means he is not fine now, nothing about me.”

Honeymaren sighed with annoyance. “I can go, you know. If you don’t want to talk there is no reason for me to stay here.”

Elsa actually considered it for a moment. She was not in a mood to talk to anyone other than the one person who made it clear she doesn’t want to, but a fresh perspective may help her figure out the mess in her head. She finally reached out and grabbed Honeymaren’s hand.

“I was angry.” She admitted, stubbornly staring at her friend’s chin.

“Why?”

“I- he was kissing her.” She repeated.

“They were kissing. Both. Consensually.”

Elsa’s stomach did not like the sound of that. “I know, I know.”

“Then why did you phrase it like that?”

Elsa thought for a moment. Indeed, why? “I don’t like when Anna does stuff I don’t want her to. Saying it this way makes it not as apparent.”

“That’s- girl, you need therapy. But right now, why is Anna kissing Kristoff something you don’t want to happen? Is he a bad boyfriend to her?”

“No, not as far as I know. She rarely mentions him to me.”

“Does that bother you?”

Elsa forced herself to meet Honeymaren’s eyes. “Of course it bothers me.”

“Why? Don’t you have parts of your life you don’t share with her?”

She didn’t even have to consider that. “No, not really.”

“That- I will be honest, that does not sound healthy.”

Elsa looked away again. “Why do you think so?”

Honeymaren cleared her throat. “Because it led you to assault her boyfriend? Out of some weird possessiveness or jealousy?”

Yet another frustrated groan escaped her. “You have a point.”

“I know I do. Now, look at me.” She didn’t move. “Please, Elsa, I need to see your face for the last question. For the years we spent together, please.”

Elsa lifted her face again.

Honeymaren continued. “Did you want to be there instead of Kristoff?”

Elsa was struck. She never considered that before. Did she?

But before she could come up with an answer, Honeymaren must have found it on her face. She sighed sadly. “As I thought. You know, I had this massive crush on you for years now.” She got up. “Glad I dodged that bullet. Though, clearly, it was never an option. Goodbye Elsa. Don’t contact me again.”

And with that, she was gone, and Elsa was left more confused and lost than ever before.

*****

Elsa was trying to be less predictable, and was now walking around, in a circle, having found a new spot near a small creek. Honeymaren’s reaction was hurtful, but left her with a lot to think about. As much as she hated admitting it, she probably was a bit too close with Anna. That was hard to argue against (despite her best efforts).

She decided to focus again on Honeymaren’s last question. Did she want to be in Kristoff’s place? To dance with Anna, to kiss Anna, to be with Anna?

Elsa, in truth, was a coward. She didn’t like confrontation. She avoided it whenever she could. She didn’t even try to stop her second best friend from leaving her life. And she ran from this truth for years now. But the circumstances forced her to stop and think. And she did not like the conclusion.

She took a deep breath, and let herself break down on the soft moss.

*****

Elsa was old fashioned. When she realized that apologizing to Kristoff was probably the most valid reason she had to delay the conversation with Anna, she decided on a handwritten letter.

Dear Kristoff.

I am sorry f̶o̶r̶ ̶p̶u̶n̶c̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶.

No, that was terrible.

b̶r̶e̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶s̶e̶.

She groaned, again, which seemed to be her favorite way of expression today, and leaned back in her chair. She was useless at this. How do you even do that?

Hey I know I broke your nose but I was posessively jealous of my sister who consented to being with you?

That… probably would not fly. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty at least.

She laid her hand on the desk, and cried a bit. There is no way she can do this properly before her talk with Anna. Especially since she honestly couldn’t care about Kristoff at the moment, her heart apparently deciding that she has lived a long enough life and it wouldn’t hurt to break some ribs.

With the last, extremely loud groan, she crushed her pathetic excuses at an apology, took a deep breath, and went to see her sister.

*****

Elsa was completely and utterly useless.

“Shut up.” She said, cleaning her face in a sink. After making the brave choice of talking with the most important person in her life, she went to hide in the toilet and apparently tried to drown herself in the sink.

“If I’m now arguing with myself about how much I hate myself, Honeymaren was probably right with therapy.” She muttered to herself, washing her face again. Somehow, the obvious signs she has been crying would not go away.

*****

Elsa was at her limit. She knew, logically, that every delay would make it worse and worse. And that there was a lot to talk about, and a lot to figure out. If Anna would even want to talk to her, that is. She took another, so-deep-it-hurts-her-lungs breath, and turned back to the door.

She paced for a bit, trying to calm herself down before the inevitable. It failed, but she was on a mission damnit, and so she forced herself to open the door. Anna was sitting by her desk, doodling something. She turned to face her, a scowl still on her face.

“And? Have you figured it out?” She spat out at Elsa, who flinched and looked down.

“I have.” She took another deep breath, in hopes of calming herself. “I-” It didn’t work.

She looked back up at her sister, still waiting for her answer with a hard look on her face. And whatever was to happen next, Elsa did not want to ever again see that look directed at her.

She inhaled again. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Anna’s eyes softened at that. “Of course you are.” She gestured for Elsa to sit on her bed. “And I am too.”

Elsa was very glad to have sat down, considering her life just got turned upside down again. Her mind exploded with all the possibilities and-

“But I need to make something very clear with you, Elsa.” Elsa’s mind stopped again, and she felt a shiver run down her back. “I am not your fucking property. What you feel towards me doesn’t make it okay to beat up people who I chose to be with, you understand me?”

Elsa looked back up again, and while still clearly angry, Anna looked a lot calmer now. Fortunately, this wasn’t difficult to agree with. She nodded, and Anna visibly relaxed, though not completely.

“So, what the fuck do we do now?” Anna continued after a brief pause.

“What do you mean?”

Anna sighed heavily. “How do we fix this?”

Elsa’s mouth was hanging open. “I-” She didn’t know what to continue, and was glad to have been interrupted.

“Or did you assume we would get together and live incesty forever after?! Jesus, Elsa, I am in love with you and you are in love with me! What do we do?!” Elsa finally properly looked at Anna, for the first time since this morning. Her eyes were red and puffy, already watering again, and she looked at Elsa with terror in her eyes.

Seeing her so distraught finally broke Elsa out of her stupor. She stood up and embraced Anna. She hoped it came off as what it was intended as - a supportive Big Sister Hug.

It must have, because Anna embraced her back and started crying into her shoulder. Elsa began rubbing her back and silently crying herself.

“I don’t know.” She finally whispered. “I have no idea how or when this happened, but we will figure it out.”

They both cried for a while, before settling down on Anna’s bed.

Eventually, Anna sniffled and started talking again. “Do you know why I’m with Kristoff?”

Elsa froze for a moment, and shook her head.

“It was the only thing that was mine, that wasn’t yours as well. I didn’t- don’t really care about him that much, you know? But when he asked me out, I saw an opportunity to make my own decisions, to be my own person.”

Elsa continued stroking Anna’s hair. “I think we fucked up. Don’t know what exactly we messed up, but we did.”

Anna snorted lightly through her tears. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Elsa joined in the forced laughter. “Nothing except for my own feelings, apparently.”

She felt a slight tinge on her nose, as Anna flicked it. “How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?”

“Well, sometimes I think it’s a-” She trailed off for a bit, and continued, quieter. “-a family trait.”

An ever more awkward silence fell on them. This was going to be tough.

She loudly swallowed, and whispered. “I think I… may have an idea.”

Hopeful eyes met her own, and for just a moment, everything was perfect.

*****

Elsa was extremely tired of her self loathing narration, and decided to focus on the present. She closed the trunk of her car.

“You’ve got everything?” Anna asked her, holding back tears.

“Oh, definitely not.” Elsa, a bit better at acting, replied in an almost steady voice. “But I won’t notice until I need it. I’m a big girl now, I will make it work.” She forced a smile, which Anna returned.

“That you will. You always do.”

They stood in their backyard, moving Elsa’s thing into the car. While earlier opposed to the idea, she has decided to take advantage of being accepted into the country’s best university (that she mostly applied to for the ego boost) she received. It was the best education she could hope for, fully paid for, and most importantly - too far away for a weekend back at home. They both agreed it’d give them the best chance of actually taking a break from each other’s presence and developing on their own. They also both booked appointments with therapists - Anna here, Elsa near the university she was going to.

They both hated it.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Anna said with a shaky voice. “Stay, please.”

Elsa paused mid step at that. She wished for nothing more than to agree. Her heart broke, as she replied. “You know I can’t. You know we both need this.”

Anna almost tackled her to the ground with the tightest hug she ever felt. “I know that. But I don’t want to know it.”

Elsa lightly moved her fingers through Anna’s hair. “The same urge on my end led us to where we are now.”

They stood for a moment longer, as Anna composed herself and moved away, turning slightly. “I think… I think we shouldn’t contact each other until the winter break. Other than ‘I am safe and alive.’”

Elsa stayed silent for a moment, fighting with tears. “Yes.” She finally whispered. “That’d be for the best.”

They took in the last moment together, and Elsa finally asked the question she was meaning to for the past week. “What do we do if it doesn’t go away?”

Anna met her eyes again. “I don’t know. I don’t- I won’t make any promises now. Let’s just… focus on becoming more independent, okay? Everything else is secondary.”

Elsa felt like she could breathe again, even if just slightly. She could live with that. “Sometimes I think you’re the older, wiser sister, you know?”

Anna proudly lifted her chin and put on a confident face. “Just imagine how much wiser I’d be if I actually was.” She broke her act, and ran for the one last embrace. “Goodbye, Elsa.”

“Until we meet again.” She kissed Anna’s forehead, and left the  person she called home.

[localwebslingers]

@redhead-reporter asked: "i'm afraid you'll break my heart" (mcu pete)

------

That made him stop, completely. It wasn't something he expected to hear from her. Ever. For a lot of different reasons, the first being the most obvious of them. They weren't dating.

Peter had seen Mary Jane's boyfriends come to pick her up, they weren't anything like him. They were in different social circles, had different skills. He built computers and got excited for lego sets or the newest article about a technical advancement that came out. A lot of them were stars on the sports team at school, they were confident and could actually show up to games she was cheering for. They were probably who she was cheering for, actually.

And that was okay, Peter was okay with not being like them because he liked where he was. It just wasn't where the kinds of guys she liked to be with were. The two of them? They were friends. Really good friends, great even. He hadn't doubted for a second that she liked hanging out with him, either just walking to school or doing their homework. The times up on the roof of their building just talking about anything or on the swings at the palyground they outgrew years ago. He like it, he liked every single one of those little moments.

"...you really think I would?" he asked her then, suddenly faultering and not sure. Maybe it was because he kept having to skip out on hanging out as much with Spider-Man taking up so much time. Maybe it was that he stopped promising her things, after the first few times he ended up falling through on them because something happened that he couldn't ignore. Or maybe it was something Peter never even realized he'd done in the first place. Something so bad that MJ thought that he would do something to hurt her like that.

Some time ago, Mary Jane had told Spider-Man, high up where no one else would see or hear them, that he should try and ask this girl he talked about so much out. The one he cared about, the one he liked. How could he do that now?

"...I don't want to make you feel like that though."

[mspigman]

Valle Lozano - Perfume

Hey guys! Long time no update! Sorry bout that, I hadn't expected to take so much time off, but I had finished a semester of school, the holidays came around, and honestly I needed a writing break because i had been writing virtually every day for a year! But it feels good to be back with another segment of Lozano. It's a bit of a long one at around 2k words. Hope yall enjoy and happy new year!

Yolanda Barrios had lived her whole life docily. She was born the only daughter to Alfred and Hildagarde Barrios, another family of key founders of Valle Lozano. She had grown up having never really witnessed a loving marriage. Her mother and father spoke to each other more like colleagues than like husband and wife. It was a marriage of convenience, to elevate social status and increase the family wealth. She knew that that was what was expected of her. And she fulfilled that obligation dutifully. She married Martin Octavio the year she turned eighteen, and it seemed to her that she was simply fulfilling the role she was born to do.

There was no real romance between her and her betrothed. They had known each other their entire lives, knew the same people, ran in the same circle, and as they got older it was apparent that they would unite in matrimony, as per the wishes of both families. The fathers wanted to unite their positions in town, and what better way to do it than through their children? 

The engagement was a brief one, just long enough to get the word around and for the fathers to shake hands and agree to the terms of the marriage. It felt to Yolanda as if her life was nothing but another business deal. Her father would gain a bit of land, the Octavio’s would gain a hefty dowry, and the newlyweds would live in a splendid manor. All were satisfied.

Yolanda, however, was not. She did not want a grand home. She despised large mansions with cold and empty rooms. To her surprise, her new husband felt the same. Land, he told her, was more important than space. So they built a tiny comfortable home on a large property and she learned to garden. This kept her occupied for a time, but she was still not satisfied. She wondered what it would be like to be in love. She thought, in the early days, that she might learn to love her husband. She recognized that he was a handsome man; he had a medium build, straight dark hair, and a commanding personality, and she felt that perhaps he could love her. She knew that she was known to be a town beauty, with a plump but slender figure, light eyes, and soft lips. At the beginning of their marriage, she made small attempts to court her husband. She would timidly bring him a vase of the flowers she gardened into his office whenever he was in it and place it on his desk, hoping they would bring her the joy that they brought her. She would spray perfume in her hair to try and rouse him, but it was all in vain. She would find the vases she would put in his office somewhere else around the house, usually the kitchen or parlor, and he never so much as affirmed if he liked or disliked the scent she wore. She wondered if he even noticed it. 

She gave up when one afternoon, bored and aggravated at his lack of reciprocation, she snuck into his office while he was out on business. She wanted to see if she could find some way of turning his head, some way of finding what caught his eye. She considered perhaps he liked a certain kind of woman, and she was determined that she would become it. 

Her determination evaporated when she found the key to his desk drawer and found the letters tucked inside. Everything made sense when she perused the contents. He was in love with another woman. Gemma Solaris was the daughter of a shopkeeper, a shop which the Octavio’s had money invested in and visited frequently. Their letters went back years, even from before their marriage or engagement. As she flipped through the letters, she could not help but notice a distinct smell. Perfume. Much different from the kind Yolanda herself wore. 

The smell was daring and bold, of alluring spices and florals. It was a major contrast to the light, fresh scent she preferred. Yolanda imagined Gemma’s perfume was a reflection of her personality, in which case they were complete opposites, and she would never be able to win over her husband. If she was right, Gemma was fierce, striking, and confident. Yolanda was none of that. She was timid, soft, and docile. She would never be the type of woman Gemma was, and she made up her mind then and there that she could not and would not compete with such a woman. She had made a fool of herself for Martin long enough. She would not risk pushing him forever into the arms of his mistress by her feeble attempts. So, with a decided motion, she put the letters back in their place and pretended to forget all about them. From that moment on she and Martin lived a tranquil, complacent life. They were on civil terms, and as long as he fulfilled his role of husband she ignored the letters that arrived that always brought the smell of cinnamon and jasmine lingering throughout the house. 

When their daughter was born, she felt a relief wash over her. She finally had something to pour her energy into. She would raise their child, and devote herself to bringing it up, and in that way, she could heal the lonely fractures of her heart that had formed when she learned of her husband’s infidelity but had never dared to examine closely beforehand. Now, with a new baby, it was like being given a precious gift. A living, breathing, creature, almost doll-like, that she could spoil, pamper, love, that would be the companion her soul longed for. 

For years, everything went according to plan. Ines and her mother were as close as Yolanda could have expected. Ines lived a solitary life, and Yolanda was gratified that she seemed to want no closer friend than her mother. They did nearly everything together; they would rise and have all their meals together, read, and take walks. Yolanda passed down her love of gardening and flowers to her daughter, and they seemed to agree on all their opinions and tastes. Yolanda was secure in her position in her daughter's life and felt that no one could ever disrupt their bond. That was until Ines fell in love. 

The utter shock and the crushing blow of betrayal were impalpable to Yolanda once her daughter's torrid relationship was discovered.  She had never once suspected that Ines harbored feelings for anyone, but to know that she had this illicit affair with someone so far beneath her behind her own back was something she could not bear. To Yolanda, it was an even greater deceit than finding her husband’s mistress. Ines was her daughter, she had committed her life to her, and in return, Ines had hidden and omitted her deepest truths. It was something Yolanda could not forgive.

The relationship enraged both of her parents and when Martin resolved to send their daughter away that very night, Yolanda did not protest. Ines pleaded with her to let her stay but Yolanda only gave her an icy stare. Ines understood. Her mother would not help her. She only glared at her mother, but without a word, quietly and bravely gathered her things and left the home forever.

It was only years later that Yolanda regretted her passivity. She had looked in the mirror one morning and stared for a while at her face. It was familiar, the way it had looked the night before. She was accustomed to the changes that had transpired over the years. She had a few more wrinkles along her eyes, the skin was not as firm, and her hair had some white in the long strands. But she did not mind any of it. She was still an attractive woman in excellent health. However, as she continued looking at her reflection, she no longer saw her face, but her daughter's. Ines’ young, beautiful, glowing face, just as fresh as she looked on the day she left home, jumped out and startled her. She had to glance over both shoulders to verify if she was alone. But she was. She turned back to the mirror, and upon seeing it was only herself in the mirror, began to sob. 

She had never before given up her ire against her daughter through these years, not even when she and her husband received letters from her trying to reconcile. As far as they were concerned, she deserved to be shunned. It was when the letters suddenly stopped that they believed something was amiss. But even that vague feeling of misfortune was not enough for either of them to relent. They considered it to be her pride, her unmerited pride. They felt it was her duty as their daughter to beg for their forgiveness. She was the one who had deceived them. Had hid from them. However, when Yolanda saw her daughter’s face in the looking glass, she felt in the bottom of her soul that it was a bad omen. 

She convinced Martin to locate their daughter but to no avail. They tried contacting the school where they had left her, but it had been years since she had resided there. They had no information on where she went to or where she could be. What transpired after was months of intense investigation. Martin, overcome with guilt over his missing daughter, put nearly every cent into trying to locate her. It was all for naught. After a few months of searching they discovered that their only child had died. She had died the morning Yolanda imagined to have seen her looking back at her in the mirror.

To say that the Octavios were devastated would not give justice to their ruin. Racked with recrimination for each other, their once cordial, civil relationship wilted away. Martin blamed his wife for not raising his daughter properly, if she had Ines would have never fallen in love with a common farmer’s son. In turn, Yolanda blamed his callousness. What right had he to said her only companion away? Neither of them would yield to the other, and locked in that tiny house, they felt that they were each other’s punishment for their sins.

This went on for the rest of their lives. Martin passed first and when he did Yolanda refused to vacate the house. After the funeral she sat alone in their room, wondering how much longer she would have to suffer in her solitude. A few months later, the night before she died, she went to his office, lurking inside the old mahogany desk she did not bring herself to get rid of. Curious, she found the key to the drawer and perused the contents. She found the cruel, mocking, spiteful letters jeering at her. The letters were made all the more humiliating and callous when, as she read the letters, discovered that they were as recent as a few days prior to Martin’s death. Yolanda read them, and the familiar scent of jasmine and cinnamon stung her eyes. She wondered why her husband had even married her. What had he wanted of her? What had she wanted of him?

She thought of Ines then. At least she had been brave. She had chosen love. It was more than her mother and father could say. She thrust the letters back in the drawer, hating Martin as she never had before. She hated herself too, because she realized her fatal mistake. Her biggest mistake was staying in this wretched house all this time. She realized she should have left the moment she smelled the jasmine and cinnamon emitting off the cream paper. She laid in bed that night knowing she would not live to see the morning. She also knew that her punishment, for being so cowardly, so unwise, and so weak was to live forever in that house. It was all she knew. It had been her world, her sanctuary, and for her crimes it would be her prision even after death.

[midwesternorcprincess]

my grandparents lived in a rather grand (by my-hometown standards) old house built in like 1900 or so, and since the last of my grandparents has died now, my family went to clean the place out this weekend before it gets sold. my parents came and got me even, and i never go back to my hometown, but i grew up largely in this house and it was important enough to me that i wanted to see it one more time and like, make my peace with that

and also, incidentally, my gf lives in a neighboring town. just a wild coincidence, we met here in the town where i go to school, so it's kinda wild we both grew up in the same area. no one in my current social circle here is even from Indiana, much less the part I'm from. so i got to see her, and, thank god, stay with her this weekend and not in this now-dilapidated icebox of a house (doesn't have heat or water anymore since it hasn't been lived in for a decade) and all stuck with my family

so i went right to her place when i got there Friday night, and on Saturday she had to drive me back to my hometown so I could go through the house. and she was just gonna drop me there and come back for me later, but my parents invited her to stay and look around with us, so she did. my mom was pretty excited to give the grand tour, so the three of us went all through the house together. my mom told everything she knew, and i kinda reminisced about all these places, and i feel like having gf there kinda took the edge off what might have been a too emotional experience and made it fun

and idk, it just felt really special to have gf there for that. my family was pleasant (even the Relatives who unexpectedly showed up), and like, this was a huge part of my past that's over now, and once the house is sold it'll just be gone. it'll just be like, a ghost living on in me, and so i'm glad gf got to see some of it. idk it feels important to me. and also, that i'm the very last of the many grandchildren to, you know, pair off with anybody. it's like, idk, i know my grandparents would have been happy to see it, and to know that that was my partner's introduction, more or less, to the family. i guess i get sentimental about this stuff. And also most other stuff

but man. i am gonna miss that place. that house was so special, no way in hell any of us could afford to have it in this day and age, though. you know the scene in Anastasia where she finds the dilapidated former palace and it awakes her latent memories of when the place was in its heyday? that's what this was like, stuff just flooding back to me that I hadn't thought about in years. idk man i am gonna be melancholy for a while

[heartsoulspiritelite]

Nick Jackson x Kenny Omega

Summary-

Nick Jackson finds himself torn apart as he navigates his feelings for Kenny Omega. Unable to express himself, he wrestles with loneliness until Kenny's senses catch onto the unspoken emotions circling between them.

~

I love you!

Nick Jackson sat in the corner of his hotel room, staring at his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through various social media platforms. His heart felt heavy, and the loneliness threatened to consume him. Every laugh and touch between Hangman Adam Page and Matt Jackson served as a constant reminder that he hadn't yet found someone to share his affections with.

Kenny Omega had always been his closest friend, and partner besides his older brother. They had formed an incredible bond during their journey together as The Elite, and Nick cherished their friendship more than anything else. But lately, Nick had started to develop feelings for Kenny, and it scared him.

He felt a lump in his throat as he contemplated revealing his emotions to Kenny. But the worry of losing his friendship held him back. What if Kenny didn't feel the same way? It was a risk Nick wasn't willing to take, fearing that such a confession could potentially ruin everything they had built together.

The longer Nick kept it in, the more his emotions intensified. He watched as Kenny's eyes sparkled every time he interacted with Hangman, Matt,Kota and just his other close colleagues and jealousy gnawed at him from the inside. Nick found himself hiding his emotions behind laughter and smiles, fearfully locking away his affection for the sake of preserving their friendship.

One evening, as The Elite gathered backstage, Nick noticed Kenny studying him with a curious gaze. It was as if Kenny had caught on to Nick's loneliness, Studying the carefully concealed emotions haunting his fellow Bullet Club member.

Later that night, as they both sat on the rooftop after an event, Kenny broke the silence. "You've seemed distant lately, Nick. Is something bothering you?"

Nick's heart stopped for a moment, his emotions threatening to burst through the wall he had built around them. But instead of revealing his deepest secret, He chose to lie.

"Im fine, Kenny," Nick sighed

"No you are not Nick, You don't have to lie, its just me" He said trying to comfort the younger buck.

"Thats the problem. You're you Kenny, i can't tell you alright so just drop it" He says irritated

Kennys face twisted with hurt and confusion

"Nick what the hell" Kenny asked confused, his voice laced with disappointment

"Im sorry" He whispered

"Are you Nick, Are you?, i don't think you are"

With that Kenny stood up and turned around and was about to walk away when

"Kenny i love you!" Nick shouted panicking

Kenny froze.

Nicks heart started beating faster and faster while he waited for Kenny to reply

"What?" was all Kenny could muster up as he turned back around

"Kenny im so-"

"ALL THIS TIME?" He shouted

"huh" Nick said confused not knowing if he meant that in a bad or good way

"ALL THIS TIME YOU"VE FELT THE SAME? I WAS SUFFERING FOR NOTHING?!"

"You-You feel the same way?"

"of course i do you idiot"

They both smiled like geeks and hugged the life out of each other. Now that the cat was out of the box they could both move on without having this on their shoulders all the time.

kenny pulled pack from the hug and gently put his lips on Nicks.

Right as they started kissing the other two members of the elite decided to interrupt.

"Hey there you guys-woah" Matt said in shock once he and hangman got on the roof

both stared in shock until they shouted

"FINALLY! YES!"

~

~Cross-posted on wattpad & ao3 ~

[echovilled]

— like a moth to a flame.

→ pairing: war x chaerin kim.

→ word count: 2,185

→ song: i listened to so many songs writing this but the most frequent one that got a lot of spins was definitely the boy is mine - ariana grande lol.

→ notes: stop letting me self indulge in 1-2 year old wips, im so serious rn !

Chaerin woke up with the expected feelings for her 18th birthday: a sense of excitement that felt both genuine and hollow. She loved birthdays and the idea of being celebrated, but the routine had become so predictable that she knew exactly how the day would transpire. She lay in bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of something different to creep in, but nothing came. She blew out some air as she rolled her eyes and turned to the outstretched window that gave her the perfect view of the sun rising over Mount Namsan.

As it always did, the day would begin with a birthday message from her parents on Skype. It had become a tradition since they hadn't been home for the celebration for the last 7-8 years.

The routine was set in stone - she'd get up, have her birthday breakfast cooked by the penthouse staff, and then be presented with the exact cake every year: a chocolate buttercream golden cake with sprinkles. Later, a private birthday dinner would be held at Pierre Gagnaire à Séoul with a carefully curated group of friends to post their equally curated group photos on Instagram. It was the same predictable pattern every year with the necessary changes to fit her social media circle, followed by 364 routinely identical days until June 1st rolled around again.  

Chaerin groaned loudly, already feeling the weight of the day's familiarity ahead of her. Mentally, she felt as if she was placed behind a well-constructed fence designed to protect her but also shield her from the rest of the world. The security her parents had built around her began to feel suffocating, even if she understood its reasons. She was their rainbow baby- their only child after so much loss- and the weight of keeping her safe regardless of any situation lingered between them.

Their love for her was never in doubt, but that love had formed an environment where control and sheltering had become second nature. Their high-profile careers worsened things—her mother, a corporate executive of the successful skincare brand Misun Cosmetics, and her father, a private investor, were always away. They were busy managing their professional empires while ensuring she stayed safely inside the fortress they built for her.

She heard the familiar notification ding from her laptop as she finally got up and went to her desk. The Skype link shared by her father is ready to be clicked. She hesitated momentarily, her finger hovering over the mouse before clicking the link.

Chaerin sat at the kitchen table, eating her breakfast for the day. The chef had prepared a Moroccan-themed breakfast with a side of Miyeok-guk, which was something different that at least pleased her just a little bit.

She sat at the table and pondered what she could do for her birthday. The usual choices were shopping, which never failed to make her happy, sightseeing, crawling back into bed and streaming Netflix, or even catching a flight to Tokyo, which was only two hours away. But none of these options felt right, and she was getting frustrated.  

It only took minutes before she abruptly leaped from her seat and ran back to her room. Her heart pounded with the rush of excitement as the idea struck her. Today wasn't just any birthday - it was her eighteenth! She could finally act on something she had been toying with for weeks.  

To satisfy her need for something different, she's been third-wheeling it with one of her best friends, Nari, and her boyfriend, Junho, who was just weird and greasy, and his friends, who had been racing motorcycles in the shadowy streets of Gangseo District. She would say she was studying with Nari to get any deployed security off her back. Plus, she was getting older, so her parents did ease their eye off her for a bit (and a bit is being generous). It was their favorite pastime, and sometimes, she'd ride on the back of the bikes of some of Junho's friends, but that was it. It was fun for a while, but that's not what captured her interest. It was something - or someone - else entirely.  

Outside Nocturne, a club notorious for drawing in some of the city's most dangerous crowds, Chaerin had first seen him. Or rather, she had noticed his friend first. A hulking figure who was broad and intimidating, with a scar etched like lightning down the side of his face. His presence was enough to stop anyone in their tracks, and to be honest, she would both embrace and run from this man if she were alone with him in a dark alleyway.

But it wasn't until he shifted aside that Chaerin saw the person who caught her breath.  

The stranger who followed was tall and lean; his body cut with strength but moved with a quiet, deliberate grace. He wasn't cut from the same cloth as the boys she was used to hanging out with; he was something else entirely. He wore dark clothes - a black jacket, dark cargo pants, and heavy boots - that made him blend into the shadows. His sharp gaze gave him an aura of danger, which seemed to draw attention without him needing to say much of anything. Even though he couldn't have been older than Chaerin, he carried an air of experience that he had seen more of the world than she did.

She had watched him hanging around Nocturne for nearly a week, always at a distance. It was an unspoken game of cat and mouse, and she was sure he didn't notice her, but she made sure to see him. Whenever she was in the Gangseo District with Nari, she would always find him as if pulled by an invisible force.

But now, on her eighteenth birthday, she decided it was time to make her move. She wasn't someone to linger in the background anyway; she had to see who this man really was. Tonight, she would step into the shadows, hoping that this time, she would meet him and have the stranger for herself.

Chaerin didn't hesitate. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand and immediately called Nari. The phone barely rang before Nari picked up.  

"Rinnie! Happy Birthd-"  

"Nari, I've got an idea for tonight," Chaerin said, cutting her off as her voice buzzed excitedly. "After dinner, why don't you and your weird ass boyfriend come with me to Nocturne? We can have a little after-party celebration!"  

Nari paused for a moment, which caught Chaerin off guard. "First of all, he's not weird! And also Nocturne? I've never been there before, but I heard like a shootout happened a couple weeks ago..." she admitted, the slightest hint of hesitation creeping into her voice.  

Chaerin ignored this and laughed lightly at her friend's uncertainty. "If a shootout does happen, we'll just run for the back door, okay?"  

"Chaerin-"  

"Nari, come on. It's my 18th birthday, and we need to do something big! It's going to be super wild, and we'll be together, okay? Plus, Junho will be there, so it will be perfect." She said, and after a moment, Nari sighed, "Okay, you've convinced me. I'll talk to him, but count us in."  

Chaerin squeals, already anticipating the stranger and the night ahead. With the plan sealed, the night promises something unforgettable—what could go wrong?  

Later that night, Nari, Junho, and Chaerin arrive at Nocturne. At the entrance, the burly bodyguard scanned their IDs with a skeptical look, his eyes narrowing as he noticed they were all under 19. The legal age was previously changed about a year ago because a 16-year-old boy was murdered two blocks away from the club. The rule was set, and it looked like the bouncer wasn't going to bend for shit.  

Before Chaerin could protest, Junho stepped forward with a sly smile, pulling out his wallet and slipping a few bills into the guard's hand, which she rolled her eyes. "It's her birthday," he said, nodding toward Chaerin, who stood behind him.  

The bodyguard paused before pocketing the cash with a barely noticeable nod, and they were waved inside.  

Junho flashed a cheesy grin at Chaerin. "I'll have the bill on your door by tomorrow," he said as she flipped him the middle finger while Nari chuckled.  

As soon as they stepped inside, the music's thumping bass hit them like a wave. The flashing lights danced across the walls, turning everything into a blur of neon and moving shadows. The air was thick with excitement and the heavy scent of sweat, alcohol, and perfume.  

Chaerin, without hesitation, pulled Nari to the center of the dance floor, with Junho following them. The crowd was already swaying in sync with the loud music. While Nari and Junho started dancing together, Chaerin found a dance partner on her own. A tall guy with a confident smile caught her eye and stepped closer, his intentions extremely clear. She always welcomed the attention, and her movement began to match his. The guy leaned in, his voice barely audible over the noise. "You look real sexy out there." he flirted, flashing a playful grin.  

Chaerin smirked, her energy rising. "I know!" she shot back, laughing with a teasing edge.

The banter continued as they moved together, the flirtation adding to the thrill of the night. For a while, she completely forgot about the world outside of this. Every laugh, touch, and beat added to the rush she felt.  

But after a while, her movement began to slow. Something in the atmosphere had shifted, and it was changing the exhilaration that she had felt moments ago. She began to feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  

Someone was watching her.  

She could feel it—a presence, eyes locked on her from somewhere in the crowded room. The once liberating feeling suddenly felt heavy, and her body tensed as she scanned the room, searching for the source. Her dance partner quickly noticed the shift in her mood, and his confusion was evident. It wasn't until she looked up and saw him that she realized it was him.  

Her eyes locked onto the mysterious stranger, standing by the railing in the VIP section, staring directly at her. His gaze was intense, penetrating, and unrelenting.

She had stopped dancing altogether, stumbling slightly from the shock and surprise. The realization had it her like some crushing wave. Did he notice her watching him this entire time? This whole fucking time?

As Chaerin stood frozen, trying to process the situation, she noticed another woman approach the stranger. The woman touched his chest, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Chaerin stiffened, an unexpected jealously tightening in her chest for someone she didn't know. But the feeling would quickly shift when the stranger dismissed the woman with a wave, sending her back to the VIP section without a second thought.  

His gaze briefly returned to Chaerin before disappearing back into the shadows, leaving her standing there with her heart racing and her mind spinning.

She didn't even know what to make of it. He physically said absolutely nothing but said so much with one look. Was he sending her a message that he knows that she's been practically stalking him? Was he daring her to come meet him? Did he care whether she picked option A or B? It felt like a game of chess, a game that she had never bothered to play, yet she was maneuvering through it without a single clue.  

Suddenly, she became aware that her dance partner had left her alone. A quick glance revealed that Nari and Junho had found their way to a dimly lit table, making themselves incredibly cozy in each other's company.  

Chaerin's gaze shifted back toward the VIP section, her eyes darting to the elegant curve of the staircase leading up to it. The familiar flame that she felt in her belly the night she saw him for the first time was spreading fast, and it pushed her to quickly make her way to the staircase before she could second-guess herself.  

Just as she approached the VIP section, the man she had noticed before - the one with the lightning strike scar across his face - stepped in front of her and blocked her path. She was beginning to become tired of all of these fucking rules and regulations. She felt like this was more like a prison than a club. Why is nobody letting her do what she wants?  

Before she could start complaining, a voice cut through the club's noise.  

"Let her through."  

The bouncer glanced back at the source of the command, gave a nonchalant shrug, and stepped aside. Chaerin's heart raced as she barely shoved the bouncer out of the way and made her way through the velvet rope. Without hesitation, she even edged between the stranger and the girl from earlier casually seated next to him.  

She would have no idea this bold, instinctual, and unplanned move would change her life forever.