#Trust Mogul
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
prokopetz · 3 months ago
Text
What is it with trust-fund-kids-turned-tech-moguls and unwittingly confessing to felony tax evasion while trying to own some rando on the Internet? First Musk, now Mullenweg – like, do these guys see a cute tax filing trick and just automatically assume that they're the first person in the world ever to think of it, without bothering to check whether it's, you know, a federal crime?
7K notes · View notes
vondehnvisuals · 1 year ago
Text
Volume CCXCIX: The Tuesday Tell a Vision Edition; The Micro Mogul Wealth Management Module
Kingdom Courtyard
View On WordPress
0 notes
bunjywunjy · 1 year ago
Note
Hello Dear Friend.
I was in your country in 2019.I have gone through your profile and decided to go straight to the point on why i wholeheartedly contacting you.
My name is Mrs. Marion Gadsby from Thailand,Australian,79years,I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer .It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a month to live, according to medical experts. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business was my priority.
Though I am a very rich lady, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.
I Am very sick now and depends on machines to survive which I know one day one minute I will be no more , but before departing I have a fortune I will like to confined your position so that you can use it and do the humanitarian work which I failed to do when I had the grace and the time. I have willed and given to my immediate and extended family members ,but these last funds I would want to be useful to the poor and the needy. I don't trust any of my family members again because I don't think that they will deliver the fortune to the poor and needy. This is the main reason why I contacted you because I believe you will make it happen as I will instruct you in the future when the fortune is in your hands.
I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul, so I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth.
I cannot do this myself anymore. I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money which I have there to charity organizations in Bulgaria and Pakistan, but they refused and kept the money to themselves and used it to buy flashy cars and big houses in the city. Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be content with what I have left for them. The last of my money which no one knows of is the sum of $3,000,000.00( Three Million dollars) my late husband was wealthy as an oil mogul, politician and other businesses, but he died in his private jet crash .WE CAN'T QUESTION GOD.
I will let you have 20% of his funds for your effort and time and the 80% should go to the poor and needy around you, especially those that are in war zones. Treat this message confidentially till it's done. I am waiting for your reply.
Contact me direct for more information. [email protected]
Mrs Marion Gasby. [email protected]
MRS MARION GADSBY FROM THAILAND AUSTRALIAN
3K notes · View notes
justmeinadaze · 7 months ago
Text
Secret Underneath Part 6 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)
Tumblr media
A/N: No cliffhanger this time, I promise <3.
Warning: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, No smut in this one today, ladies and lads. I didn't feel like it worked with this chapter. I was going to make this one long chapter but I thought it better to split it :)
ANGST, Y/N confronts them about the events of the last chapter. Insecurities get in the way of them and that is explored a lot more in this chapter with mentions of their dads as well as Gina hurting them. She is sullying their image by saying lies (mentions verbal abuse and comments on how the plus size reader is "probably being used" by them because of how she looks) , she does have an incident at a bar with a guy being a dick, they defend her.
Word Count: 4853
Series here/ Donate to Me :)
You broke a rule. 
You went on Google and searched for their lawyer’s information through news outlets spouting anything they could in regard to this case. After finding what you needed, you charged into the building and past a secretary who was shouting for you to come back as you opened the door to a conference room where many sets of eyes including their shocked expressions landed on you. 
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I need a moment alone with these boys for a moment.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, she just stormed right past me—”
“No, no. It’s alright, Crystal. Um, let’s take a breather and we’ll be back in a moment.”
As soon as everyone had filed out, your angry eyes burned into them as you slid your phone across the table. 
“That thing hasn’t stopped going off since Gina released your names and quite frankly I’m afraid to look at it.”
“How did you find out where we were?”, Steve asked as he rose to his feet.
“I googled your lawyer’s name.”
“Well, so much for that promise.”, Eddie sassed as he leaned back in his chair. 
“And so much for your promise to take care of me!”, you screamed not caring if anyone heard. “Did you really fucking think that I could stay out of this?! Did you think after what she said people weren’t going to wonder and dig into why I was with you at that party?!”
“You wanted to go and we warned you of the risks of being seen with us.”
“Don’t you dare do that! Don’t you fucking dare place blame on me! I don’t care about being seen with you or if people know that we’re together! What I care about is my job, those kids, and you two!! How can I properly help and protect myself if I don’t have all the facts?! Do you know what she’s saying? She’s saying you two promised to take care of her if anything ever happened. That you were verbally aggressive with her and--”
“Yeah, Y/N, we’re aware of she’s claiming.”, the mogul growls. “Since you’re doing your own research did you go on her social medias? Oh, a lot of fun material there. Now that a fucking judge allowed her to talk about us she’s been posting nonstop about how Eddie would demean her and make her feel ugly. That I apparently offered her money to get plastic surgery to make her look ‘perfect’.”, he sarcastically laughs. 
“You should have told me.”
“Because you think we did what she claims?”
“No, Eddie! Fuck, so I can prepare. What if parents suddenly feel like I can’t teach their kids because of the company I keep? What if the school decides that my association with you isn’t worth the attention? Now that this has come to light I need to be aware of what’s going on!”
Neither man said a thing infuriating you more. 
“Did you not tell me because you thought I wouldn’t want to be with you? Or did you think I’d hurt you like she did?” You laugh as you shake your head. “Jesus. I thought you two were different but you’re just like every other scared little boy. I thought I had given you enough reason to trust me but I guess not.”
“Yeah so why don’t you fucking leave then, you little brat.”
You weren’t sure if they saw it in your eyes but you definitely felt your heart break. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you back away towards the door. 
“I’m so stupid.”
When your teary eyes met theirs, you could tell Steve regretted his words but he couldn’t take them back. They couldn’t take any of this back. Furiously, you reach into your pocket and throw their apartment key across the table before leaving the way you came. 
##############
Instagram:
IHateithere: “Oh my god. Poor Gina!”
NeverHave_IEver13: “She’s so sweet and deserves better.”
CorrodedGirl28: “Fuck Gina Frost. This isn’t the first time she’s made claims against a partner! I met Eddie Munson backstage at one of his concerts and he was so sweet.”
E!News: Mystery Woman seen at the Charity Event with Steven Harrington and Edward Munson has been cited by the men’s lawyers as ‘just a friend.’
Twitter:
ElderEmoKid91: That poor friend of theirs. No matter what people will think they dated because of Gina. 
ChaosRains: ‘Their friend’? Yeah right. Probably as much of a whore as Gina Frost!
JusticefortheUnheard: I bet if this was a man with two women he’d be slated as a ‘hero’ but because it’s a woman with two men she’s a whore. Grow up!
Steve Harrington: Eddie and I are saddened to hear that not only has our privacy been violated but Gina Frost is allowed to continue spreading her lies until we get this matter resolved. We never once raised a voice or hand to her and took care of her like any boyfriend would which she constantly took advantage of…
Steve Harrington: In regard to the young lady that came with us to charity event last Saturday, she is a friend we’ve known for a while. We ask politely that you respect her privacy as what is going on between us and Gina…
Steve Harrington: doesn’t involve her. Thank you for your understanding and we will speak more on this situation when we are finally able.
TMZ: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson release joint statement regarding ‘friend’ and how they feel about Frost ‘spreading her lies’!
YouTube and TV:
CBS: “Gina Frost, thank you so much for speaking with us today. Before we let you go, what are your thoughts on the young lady they were seen with? Do you have any advice for her in regard to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”
“Run, girl. Get as far away from them as you can. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started ‘hanging out’ with a girl like her because of our case. They always wanted me to be perfect. To look like the woman they thought would be equal to them and their status. She’s the complete opposite of what they wanted me to be so dating, or excuse me, being friends with her makes them look good.”
***
You wiped the tears that fell with your knee as you browse Daddies on your computer. Your phone was still dinging constantly so you kept it hidden in your bedside table drawer. Since winter break had started you didn’t have to deal with work and for that you were thankful. 
Your identity hadn’t been officially confirmed but it seemed to be common knowledge at this point; everyone knew it was you. 
Not wanting to be alone, you ran home into your parent’s open arms. 
“Baby! Are you ok? What’s going on? Tell us everything.”
“I’m so stupid, mom.”, you cried.
“No, you’re not, honey. Come on. I made some coffee. Let’s sit down and talk.”
You told them everything minus the exact way you met them but you did tell them that you had been dating them both and how much you cared about them. When you were met with nothing but love and zero judgement, you cried harder. 
Having fully settled in, you felt yourself getting antsy. After everything, you didn’t want a new relationship, just something casual but after having been with the guys you felt yourself cringing more and more at the stupid flirting that hit you. 
“’Sup, pretty girl? Fuck your gorgeous. Wanna suck my cock?”
“Hey babe. You got an attitude? I bet I can fuck it out of you.”
“What are you doing, Y/N?”
Your head straightened at the message from Mogul/Rockstar. You hadn’t heard from them in over two weeks. What were they doing on this site? You couldn’t help the jealousy that flowed through you even though technically you were on the site first. 
2:13am: What do you want, Steve?
2:14am: I want an answer to my question. What are you doing on this site again?
2:15am: What are YOU doing on here?! And why do you fucking care? You told me to leave remember?
2:17am: We’ve been calling you for the past couple of weeks but you don’t answer. We got worried. Steve thought maybe we could reach you through here but I thought naw. She wouldn’t get back on here so fast. Guess we were wrong. 
2:20am: Don’t you dare, Eddie. Don’t you turn this around on me. You have no idea what I’ve been through! I still can’t believe you didn’t talk to me. You really expected me to sit at my apartment while you handled all this alone. Did you really think she wouldn’t pull me into your thing?”
2:21am: Now because of all the secrecy I can’t help but think what I’m hearing is true!
2:22am: Like what? 
2:25am: Answer. Like what?
2:26am: That you only dated me so it seems like you didn’t want her to be the ‘ideal woman’.
You hear your phone vibrate against the drawer it’s nestled. 
2:28am: Answer the phone.
2:28am: No.
2:29am: Now, Y/N. We need to talk.
2:30am: Oh now you want to talk!? Go fuck yourselves!
2:30am: Mogul/Rockstar has invited you to a video chat!!
2:31am: CurveybabywAttitude declined your invitation to video chat. 
2:32am: Y/N. Answer the fucking phone. 
2:38am: Y/N, sweetheart, please.
2:44am: Baby…
2:44am: Please…
2:45am: We love you. 
2:45am: So much.
Uh oh! It looks like this Baby can no longer receive messages from Mogul/Rockstar! This means you have either been blocked or the Baby has deleted their account. 
###################
“Jesus what assholes.”, your best friend sighs as she takes a sip from her glass. “If they loved you then why did they push you away?”
“I don’t know, My. Let’s stop talking about them and dance!”
To get your mind off everything and let go, you met up with your best friend who took you to a new bar that had been built while you were away from home. Dressed in your tightest black dress and black heels, you grabbed your own drink and danced away the pain. 
Your friend took photos, tagging you together with men in the background casually touching your arm or waist. Your limbs found their way around a cute boy you had been talking casually to and allow him to kiss you. You hated the taste, missing Eddie and Steve even more but you pushed down the feeling as you pulled him tighter against you. 
“Take me home.”, you slurred, making the young man immediately jump to his feet. When you tried to do the same you fell backwards. 
“Whoa, Y/N. Maybe, you should let me take you home.”
“Naw, Mya. I-I-I M’fine.”, you assured as you lightly pushed her to the side and stumbled out the front door. When you tripped again the man wrapped your arm around his neck and began leading you to his car. “Wait—Wait. I’m…I need a minute.”, you whine as you take a seat on the brick wall behind you.
“Come on, baby. You can rest at my place.”, the man cooed in your ear causing you to cringe. “Look we don’t even have to go. We can just fuck in my car real quick—”
“Oh, that’s romantic.”
As you stood up and started to walk away, he grabbed your wrist a bit to roughly and in return, you smacked his cheek before stumbling to the concrete. 
“Ow! Fucking bitch—” As the man began to step forward, someone intercepted, abruptly grabbing his collar and lifting him off his feet. 
“Eddie, let it go, man. Not right now.”, Steve whispers before kneeling down beside you to try and help you up. 
“Get out of my sight.”, the rockstar growls, pushing him away from you. 
“Y/N, stop. I’m just trying to help you stand—”
“I don’t need your fucking help!”, you shouted as you shoved his hand away. “I don’t need anything from you!” 
Trying to push up onto your knees, you became dizzy and fell over again causing Steve to try and steady you while blocking your shoulder from scraping the wall beside you. Your hair was blocking your face but when they heard you sniffle, Eddie crouched down to balance on his heels and tenderly reached out to move some of it behind your ear. 
“I did everything you asked… I didn’t push when it came to your past or dig into your information online. I-I-I respected the anon-ymity and privacy when we first met and took a leap of faith going to that party with you. I flew to visit you anywhere you were and didn’t complain when you were gone for weeks at a time. I made myself vulnerable…for you…but still…you don’t trust me.”
“Y/N, sweetheart, we are so sorry—”
“I want to go home, please, Daddy.”
The way you said that shattered them in two. Just in your voice alone they could hear how much pain you were in yet even in your inebriated state you still yearned for them. Selfishly, it gave them hope.
“Y/N, sweetie! There you are.”, your best friend shouts in relief as she runs to you and helps you to your feet. “Get the fuck away from her. Haven’t you done enough damage?!”
“We just want to talk to her.”
“Fuck you! You had your chance to talk and—”
“Mya, please. Sleepy.”, you whine. 
When she tries to lead you away from them towards her car, you stumble over your feet again but Eddie swiftly catches you and lifts you into his arms. 
“We’ll help you get her to your car.”
“Why? So you know which one is mine and follow me back to her house?!”
“No, so we can help you get her situated and back home so she can rest.”, Steve growled. 
Mya blinks, taken a back slightly by their protective demeanors over you. After taking a moment, she finally nods and guides them towards her vehicle, watching carefully as they place you in the passenger seat. The mogul buckles your seatbelt and gently puts your bag in your lap.
Your half-lidded eyes scan his worried face as your head lulls towards him. 
“M’not her.”
“Who, honey?”
“Gina.”
Flashing you a soft smile, he begins to reach out to pet your head before forcing himself to stop and rise to his feet.
“We’re staying at the hotel by the highway; room 118. When she wakes up tomorrow, if you could tell her that, we’d appreciate it.”, Eddie conveys as his sad eyes stay on you. 
“Your fuckers, you know that?”, Mya shouts their way as they start to leave. “Like so much so that I don’t even know where to begin. She used to call me every other day and talk about these new guys she was seeing. She never told me your full names but she told me everything else. ‘Oh Mya, they are so sweet and funny. Steve is amazing at his job and works to hard to make sure everything gets done while still being able to be there for me. I love watching Eddie play on stage. He gets so into the songs and his face lights up when he hears the fans singing along. Falling asleep in their arms is my new favorite place. I finally feel safe.’”
“When the news dropped, I called her but she didn’t answer. I wasn’t worried at the time because the way she described you, I thought ‘Thankfully, they have her and she has them.’ Then she came home and told me about you expecting her to hide in her apartment with zero information on what was happening. How you yelled at her and called her a fucking brat when she called you out.”
“Oh, and the icing on the cake? You tell her you love her for the first time over a dating website AFTER ALL THIS BULLSHIT YOU PUT HER THROUGH! Holden wore his asshole behavior out in the open for all to see. You made her believe you were different, leading her on before breaking her heart. After the stuff I read, I’m starting to believe Gina Frost.”
Both men absorbed what your best friend was saying, different emotions painting their features before finally landing on anger; not at her but themselves. 
“Your right.”, Steve replied in a sullen tone. “We fucked up. Hell, we did more than fuck up…”
“We’ve never cared about anyone the way we do her and that terrifies us. Not just because of our status or who we are even though that’s why Gina used us but…”, Eddie added. “The men underneath the fame and money are incredibly flawed.”
“Gina made us afraid of her hurting us but our own personal bullshit made us afraid of hurting her.”
“So this is better?”, Mya asked.
“My…where…where your phone?”, you slurred as your hand lazily reached in her direction.
“Y/N, I’m taking you back to your mom’s, honey, you don’t know need to call them.”
“No…not mom…Eddie…Steve…I need to make dem come back. They were here an’ an’…”
“How about you call them tomorrow morning, ok? It’s really late and—”
“I don’t want dem to leave again. Mya…please…”
“Hey, hey sweetheart, we’re right here. We haven’t gone anywhere.” Tears start to run down your cheeks again and the rockstar cups your face in his hand. “We’re right here and we’ll be here when you wake up. Just let Mya, take you home and get you in bed. Tomorrow you can call us and we’ll talk then alright?”
After you nod, Eddie adjusts your body again before closing the door. 
“You guys should get going.”
“Do you really love her?”, your best friend asks.
“Yes.”
Again, Mya takes a moment to gather her thoughts as her eyes shift between your now sleeping frame and them. 
“Her parents house isn’t far. You can follow me there.”
***
“Why are they here?”, your father asks in an annoyed tone as he eyes the men up and down. 
“It’s ok, Mr. Y/L/N. They just wanted to help get her situated and then they’ll be on their way.”, Mya answers in equal measure. 
“Is her room up here?”, Eddie inquires as he gestures towards the stairs. 
“Why don’t you come with us so you can get her changed into something comfier.”, Steve follows when your friend nods. 
“Why? You’re her whatevers right?”
“I don’t think it would be appropriate right now for us to do that.”
“I can help you.”, your mom responds out of nowhere. “Come on, gentlemen.”
After they get to your room, your mother turns on your bedside lamp as Eddie gently places you down on your bed. Taping the rockstars shoulder, she hands him an oversized shirt with your college insignia on it and some shorts. 
“Maybe you should…”
“I trust you, Mr. Munson. Plus I’m right here.” Her eyes studiously watch them as both boys work to change you out of your tight garment doing everything they could to not have to look at your body. Steve’s palm carefully cradled your head to make sure they didn’t jostle you around too much as you soundly slept. 
“Do you have a washrag or wipe or something for her makeup?”
Her head tilts at his question, impressed he even thought of that. Disappearing into your restroom, she came back with wet wipes, and Eddie thanked her as he took one and gently cleaned your face.
This was a bit harder to accomplish without moving you as your face scrunched and you whined. 
“Steve…stop…”
“That’s it, sweetheart. Blame him. That way if I don’t do this correctly it will be his fault.”, he teased making you sleepily giggle. 
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”, Eddie whispers.
“Thank you, ma’am, for letting us do this. We just wanted to make sure she got here safely.”
“Hm. You wanted to make sure she got back home in one piece but didn’t think to do that when it came to all this chaos you brought her into?”, you mom scolded as she folded her arms. 
“We did warn her—”
“No Mr. Harrington. You may have warned her about your lifestyle but you didn’t do anything to protect her when the fallout of that lifestyle presented itself. Holden ‘warned’ her about what life in New York would be like but when things got hard he abandoned her instead working with her. Like him, you left her alone.”
Nodding, their heads hung as they began to head towards the door before stopping. 
“I’m afraid.”, Eddie announces. “My mom died when I was young, my dad went to jail, people around me told me I’d never amount to anything, and then our ex did what she did. When we met Y/N, fuck, I thought she was perfect… and that scares me. I don’t want to lose her but I also don’t want to be the reason that spark inside of her dies.”
“Seems like a lose/lose, Eddie. But let me ask you something… what if your relationship with her had a happy ending? What if she didn’t hurt you like your ex and you don’t hurt her like people in your life?” She smiles softly as she pats his shoulder. “It’s a risk, boys, but you just need to decide who is worth taking that risk for. You’re more than welcome to stay in our spare bedroom if you would like.”
####################
When you woke up the next morning, you had a splitting headache, thankful that your pain reliever was still in your drawer by your bed. The sound of soft breathing startled you a bit and when you leaned over your bedframe, you were surprised to see Eddie asleep on your floor using his jacket as a pillow. Steve had placed himself in the reading chair you had in the corner with his head leaning against the wall. 
You didn’t realize how much you missed them till you saw their faces and you took the opportunity to refamiliarize yourself as your eyes scanned over them. The mogul was in jeans and a polo making you smile softly while silently missing the sleek suits that hugged him perfectly. The rockstar was still dressed the same as he usually was but his whole demeanor even while sleeping seemed heavy. 
Your heart broke for them until the last couple of weeks caught up with you and you remembered why you were here. 
Reaching for one of your pillows, you threw it their way, hitting Eddie’s chest before it bounced and hit Steve’s lap. 
“The fuck?”, he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. 
“The fuck indeed. Why are you both here? How did you even know where I was?”
“Your best friend was posting pictures of you and tagging your location on Instagram. You weren’t answering your phone—”
“Yeah, Steve, for a reason. That doesn’t give you the right to come down here.”
“Thank God we did because some asshole was harassing you and Mya was having trouble getting you to her car to take you home.”
“No, Eddie. You playing hero doesn’t absolve you of what you did. You have no idea what I’ve been through!”
“We tried to call—”
“Oh, fuck you both!” As you start to get up to yell at them, a sharp sting runs through knee causing you to wince and sit back down. 
“Shit. Didn’t see that last night. Um, do you have a first kit or anything thing?”
When you don’t answer, the mogul goes on the hunt himself as Eddie kneels in front of you to look at the scrape on your knee. 
“Yeah, you fell on the concrete outside of the bar with some asshole trying to… I told him to fuck off.” Sitting on the bed beside you, Steve opens the little white box and starts to open a Band-Aid before his friend stops him. “Dude, you have to clean it first. It’s like you’ve never been in a fight before. Gimme this.”, he chuckles lightly as he takes the box and pulls out the antiseptic.
“You don’t have to do this. I’m not… I don’t belong to you anymore.”
His movements only halt for a second before Eddie continues taking care of you. 
“I don’t mind doing this. I like taking care of you.”, he murmurs. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to but I didn’t want you to cast me aside either.”
“We—”
“Don’t say you didn’t, Steve, because you did.”
“We did.” His response surprised you as you turned your head in his direction. “We talked to your mom last night. She’s a very wise woman.”, he smirks as he watches Eddie continue his task. “Y/N, I worked so hard to get where I am and I don’t just mean taking over my dad’s company and doing the deals I do. When I was growing up, I was never enough for either of my parents but especially my father. In his eyes, I could always be just a little bit better.”
“I could shorten my time by one more second in the pool or get one more minute on the court. My grades could have been one point higher or I could have gotten three grand more out of a deal. He wanted me to be perfect but I learned after I graduated high school that bar was always changing.” When his eyes finally met yours, you saw the pain behind them. “Gina knew all this… that’s why she’s saying that about me. She knows it hurts me…people thinking I’m like my father.”
Eddie finishes placing the Band-aid on your skin and leans back against the wall across from you.
“My dad was a dick…to me and my mother. He cut us down all the time verbally but after she died it got worse. He would tell me I was stupid and a freak just like the people in our town. I left my house with more bruises than I could count on numerous occasions but his words, babe. I carry those everywhere even now. I never once, no matter how angry I was, called her anything demeaning even though I fucking wanted to. She would call us every name in the book but we never once belittled her or laid a hand on her.”
“When we met you, Jesus, I swear there was no girl we had ever met like you.”
“Beautiful, sarcastic, kind, understanding…”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, you are everything we’ve ever wanted.”
“Stop…”, you whimper quietly. 
“I feel like somehow she knows that. That’s why she’s saying that stuff about us choosing you because you’re everything she’s not. We wouldn’t change anything about you. Not one thing, princess. But we are so fucking scared of getting hurt again.”
“And we’re afraid of hurting you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair, honey?”
“Do you think trusting you was easy after what Holden did to me? I upended everything I knew to follow him and he broke my heart. I was terrified of starting over in any relationship let alone with two people but I got to know you and allowed myself to be vulnerable for you… you should be able to do that for me to.”
“You’re right, baby, and we are so sorry. We’re willing to try.”, Eddie pleaded as he leaned up to grab your hands. “We don’t even have to be in a relationship again or do anything sexual. We can start slow and go from there. We just miss you so much, Y/N. The way you smell, your sense of humor, the way you play with my hair when we’re lying in bed or watching tv.”
“The way you listen to us when we talk even if it’s about work.”, Steve chimes in. “Your cute little laugh and the way you wrap your arms around me like you haven’t seen me in years when it’s only been a few hours.”
“Ah good morning, gentlemen and my hung over child. How are we today?”, your mother teases as she grins your way. 
“We’re fine thank you but if you could lower your voice a smidge that would be nice.”, you sass back making her chuckle as both men grin softly. 
“Your dad made breakfast if you and your guests are hungry. Just don’t throw it up or you’ll hurt his feelings.”
You smile as you playfully wave her off before turning your attention back to them. 
“Do you have to go back home for work or anything?”
“No, ma’am. We’re all yours.”
“Unless you want us to go back home.”, Eddie adds with sad inflection in his voice hoping and praying that you don’t. 
“Ok… I’m going to change and then head downstairs. You, um, you should stay for breakfast. Knowing my father, if my mom told him you were staying he probably poisoned something but…I’m sure you’ll be fine.”, you joke as you get up and head towards your closet, tossing them a little wink before collecting some clothes and closing the bathroom door. 
####################
@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16
@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer
@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @nailbatanddungeon
207 notes · View notes
yandere-paramour · 1 month ago
Note
I don't know if you have done this already, but atalanta x darling arranged marriage au?
Atalanta's Arranged Marriage
Tumblr media
As part of her unofficial education, Atalanta grows up knowing all the other socialites by sight. She has played with their children, gone to school with them, seen them at galas, all the necessary stuff. So when her parents inform her that she is to marry you, she has a dim view of who you are. The youngest daughter of a tech mogul, new money, a few years younger than herself, with dark hair. Atalanta, being a good obedient daughter, agrees with no complaint.
She is a dutiful fiancee. She handwrites a letter expressing how delighted she is to marry you and asks to meet you for dinner one night, sending along a large bouquet of flowers. You can't refuse a Montclair and you definitely can't refuse your future wife, so you write back accepting. Glad to have your acceptance, Ata has Noelle schedule the meeting in her calendar for next week and then puts it out of her mind for now.
Atalanta had seen you before, so she vaguely knew how you looked, but she had never expected the electrifying spark of attraction at the sight of you. Before, you were just some girl, a pretty new socialite, a daughter afraid of taking the wrong step and ruining the conglomerate your father built, but not anymore. Never anymore.
You would be hers; Her intended, her lover, her wife. The newest lady of the Montclair family. Hers.
Atalanta stands to greet you, politely ignoring your scared look, and kisses your hand, "Hello Darling, I am Atalanta Montclair. Pleased to meet you."
You're so cute when you stammer out a return greeting, the sweet redness on your face showing your embarrassment. Chivalrously, Ata pulls your chair out and settles you in, pushing you up to the table. Gracefully, she takes the seat across from you.
Atalanta is incredibly interested in you. She gently steers you away from alcohol, wanting all of you, everything you can tell her. She encourages you to eat well, to tell her about your childhood, your schooling, your hopes and dreams. She can make them happen for you, Darling; just tell her. Any questions about herself are quickly answered but not in depth. The focus tonight is you.
From then on Ata is obsessed. She has Noelle dig up information about you, any fact she can find from the day of your birth on. She has one of her own people tail you, she doesn't trust your security to keep you safe. She texts you multiple times a day, telling you good morning and good night, reminding you to eat well and drink water, asking if she might see you tonight. To try and be romantic, she writes letters to you with her own hand, praising your beauty and grace and telling you how much she misses you. She sends you presents, things Noelle tells her that you would like. Diamond jewelry, rare flowers, clothes made from the softest silks, you are spoiled and all of society knows you are the Montclair's new Princess. People begin to treat you differently; nobles who used to secretly look down on you for being new money now seem afraid of upsetting you, and ones who openly scorned you now give you a wide berth.
Wedding plans are imminent. Atalanta gives you full reign to pick whatever you like, saying "She exists to make you happy". All the loving attention from a beautiful celebrity makes your heart flutter, but it is also a bit suffocating. Your parents don't seem to be the same anymore; any minor decision is now yours and Your own Father who previously regarded you as little more than a possession now talks about your fiancee like she is a goddess.
Atalanta is... truly the complete package. She's gorgeous, rich, intelligent, and she completely dotes on you, treating you like a princess. You enjoy the numerous gifts and the gentle kisses and care she provides for you, even the letters she writes to you with her own hand. She takes you anywhere you want, the aquarium, the botanical gardens, her private box at the theatre, and she always holds your hand, dutifully following behind you as you point out all the things that catch your eye.
Your wedding grows closer. You pick the flowers, the cake, and the food, and you get fitted for your dress. Atalanta informs you that she will be wearing a matching white suit and vest, and the immediate warm gush between your legs shows how you feel about that. You are nervous, terrified even, but Ata gently assuages your fears. She will be as loving and attentive a wife as she is a fiancee, so don't worry. She will always take care of you.
The night before your momentous wedding, you receive one last present, a large box delivered by an intense woman with light blonde hair, a woman you know to be Atalanta's assistant. She informs you of the instructions your future wife sent, "Open while alone".
Later in your room, you pull at the satin ribbon and open the large box to find another handwritten card,
I eagerly await our union tomorrow, Darling. I am so excited to be married to you. I had these picked out with you in mind; I do hope I am not being too forward. Please pick whichever you like best. Don't be nervous for tomorrow night, my love. As promised, I will always take care of you - Ata 💙
Lifting up the white tissue paper unveils... lingerie in varying colors and styles, all perfectly sized to your body. There is also one... underwear set? A silk bra and panties, the same color as your skin. Your face immediately heats up with recognition; These are meant to be worn tomorrow, under your wedding dress, the wedding dress currently hanging up in the closet of your room.
Hands shaking, you turn your attention to the lingerie. 5 distinct types: Babydoll, Corset, Teddy, Chemise, and two lacy matching sets. Your face is burning by the end, a short silk robe. As mortified as you are, you appreciate the robe. As much as your wife wants to see you in these... strings of fabric on your wedding night, she included some covering, purely for the sake of your comfort.
You flop back in your bed surrounded on all sides by silken, laced underthings. You squeal in excitement, kicking your legs. Only 14 more hours. Tonight is your final night in this bed, the bed of your childhood self. You take a deep breath. You will be a married woman tomorrow, a wife to the sweet, considerate, handsome woman who cherishes you. You will be hers and she will be yours, and you will finally, finally get to touch the soft, creamy skin that's been plaguing your most secret dreams.
You wonder if, across the city, Atalanta is in her bed, thinking the same thoughts about you.
You hope she is.
94 notes · View notes
hanadulsetaad · 8 months ago
Text
RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN
TAGS: LOVE TRIANGLE, ANGST, BREAKUP, BETRAYAL
PART 2 PART 3 PART FOUR part 5 PART 6
SYNOPSIS:
Y/N Seo's life gets turned upside down when her crush, Hyunjin, starts dating her old friend turned enemy, Yeji. Suddenly, Yeji is part of their rich kid's group, even though y/n and Yeji can't stand each other. They pretend to be friends, but it's all fake.
Things get super messy when old secrets spill out, and new faces join the gang. Rumors fly, and trust crumbles as people in the group start leaking secrets, trying to wreck everyone's reputations. With newbies entering the scene, will the schemers in the group get busted for their sneaky plots?
Y/N's in the middle of it all, trying to figure out who's real and who's fake. Will she stick around with the rich kids, or will she find her own way? And what about Hyunjin? Will Y/N win his heart, or will she find love in an unexpected place?
PROFILE ONE
"THE RICH KIDS"
Y/N Seo: Y/N is the brainy YouTuber daughter of a business tycoon, alongside her dropout-turned-millionaire brother, Changbin. Together, they're the dynamic duo of South Korea, known for brains and business smarts. Plus, she's also a college student, balancing academics with her online presence.
Changbin Seo: College dropout turned startup sensation, Changbin is the brother of Y/N and the mastermind behind his own wealth. In a secret relationship with Lee Felix.
Hwang Hyunjin: Hyunjin is the prince of South Korea's elite circle. Son of the third richest man, he's not just a pretty face but a model and dancer extraordinaire.
Yeji Hwang: Yeji is the princess beside Hyunjin's prince. A rising star in modeling and dancing, she's the perfect match for her wealthy beau, Hyunjin.
Lee Felix: Son of a fashion mogul, Felix struts his stuff on runways and social media alike.
I.N: Son of a top doctor and lawyer. Despite his privileged background, he's all about hard work and making his own mark.
Wooyoung: Changbin's business partner in their gym startup, Wooyoung is a college buddy and y/n's roommate.
"THE NEWBIES"
Bang Chan: Born in Australia but moved to Korea at 13 due to his parents' separation, Bang Chan is anything but ordinary. Despite not being from a wealthy family, he's a genius who aced the Korean college exams. On top of that, he's a part-time composer for big idol companies, showcasing his incredible talent.
Kim Seungmin: From a regular middle-class family, Seungmin is Bang Chan's buddy, and he's a riot! He never thought he'd crack the college exams, but guess what? He did, landing at the 200th spot. Even he is surprised.
(more characters will be introduced)
HE IS DATING WHO?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
170 notes · View notes
redfoxwritesstuff · 6 months ago
Text
Home Is Where The Heart Is (Vox x reader Fluffer w/ light angst)
Tumblr media
Vox x Reader Rated: General Warnings: I accidently spilled a little angst on the fluff serving. Sorry? Summary: You're cooking dinner when your secret boyfriend comes home. Caught up in the moment, confessions are made and hearts are put on the line.
Come join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Hotel Discord server- You can Trust Us with your entertainment! Here's an Alastor themed Discord server as well
Masterlist AO3 KoFi
~~~~~<3
Humming in the kitchen, you danced around the sink as you listened absently to the televised concert. You had access to all the best channels, privilege granted by who your boyfriend was but that wasn’t why you were with him. You were with him, quite simply, because you loved him. You had loved him for a while, not that you dared to say it.
Sure he was powerful. Sure he had money. Sure he took care of you. He even kept you safe during the exterminations. 
But the most important part to you was that you loved him and he cared for you. 
That’s all there really was to it. 
Vox made a point to always walk into your apartment by the door. At least, whenever he was coming and going in any official sense. He was old fashioned in all the most romantic ways though you hadn’t expected it from the tech mogul.
There was a series of beeps as the pin code was entered into the door as your smile widened. With a flick to remove the extra water from the carrots you were washing, you set them aside quickly and snatched up a towel to dry your hands as you scurried toward the door.
“Welcome back,” You said as you threw your damp hands around Vox’s shoulders, smacking his screen with the towel on accident. 
“Hey,” he said simply, tension falling from his shoulders as he was enveloped in the daydream he had spent all day thinking about. You were his retreat. You were his shelter. “What have you been up to?” 
“Just starting dinner,” You answered, running your hands down his chest and smiling up at him. “Roast chicken tonight. Will you stay? Or are you just popping by?”
It wasn’t uncommon for Vox to stop by for a few minutes, half an hour or so when he was between meetings. You worked managing schedules from the comfort of your unit, another privilege granted by who you were dating, not that your peers knew that. 
He was a busy man and you could never count on how long he would be able to stay when he walked through your door. It helped that you could be counted on to always be home.
“Took the rest of the night off.” Vox smiled down at you, eyes bright. “I’m not due back until nine tomorrow.”
“Nine?!” You made a show of how scandalized the thought made you. It wasn’t the first time Vox had taken a large chunk of time off his schedule just for you but it wasn’t often at all that it would happen. “What will we do with fifteen whole hours?!” 
“For a start, we should make dinner,” Vox laughed as he leaned down, placing a static tinged kiss on your lips before stepping out of your arms. 
“Right,” you laughed as he let his clawed hands trailed over your skin as you stepped out of his reach. 
Vox stepped deeper into your apartment, slipping his jacket and vest off. You smiled at him over the counters as you took in the view of him. It was a sight few had gotten to see, Vox in blue slacks and a white button down shirt, sleeves uncuffed as he worked them up over his elbows. 
This was one of your favorite ways to see him, relaxed and having just came home from work. It was a look that left your heart beating hard and put daydreams about this being normal in your head. It was a close second to the way he looked late in the night or early in the morning, screen smudged and sleep clouding the picture on his screen, comfortable lounge clothes hanging off his lean frame. 
“See something you like?” Vox’s sly smile told you he had caught you checking him out. 
“Yep,” you answered shamelessly, there was no point in denying it. 
He laughed easily as he joined you in the kitchen. You went back to washing your vegetables. His arms wrapped around your waist as his front pressed against your back, bright screen casting a blue light over your work. 
“I see something I like too,” Vox’s voice was low in your ear.
“Oh?” You laughed, leaning into his arms, “You like potatoes do you?” 
“I do,” Vox’s arms reached around you, keeping you and your colander of potatoes trapped at the sink while he washed his hands as he continued, “But I like you more.” 
“You flirt,” You teased, ducking under his arms and setting to work chopping the vegetables to add to the roasting pan. “Keep talking like that and you’ll get a girl’s hopes up.”
Vox watched you for a moment, you could feel his eyes on your back as you kept your smile in place. It was a step too far. You knew the rules of the relationship. Off this floor of the tower, you were nothing to Vox. You were a secret. 
A resort of normalcy. 
Sure, you got to call him your boyfriend but to who? Him? Yourself? he called you his but never off this floor. Never anywhere that mattered. 
You loved him. You had realized it a while ago and that made the reality of your relationship hurt when it hadn’t before. It was worth it though. It was worth it for the nights like this a few times a week. 
It was worth it to get to hold him even if for a little while. 
You glanced at him as he started spreading oil over the chicken’s skin and covering it in seasonings. That was what you needed, him to give you a reason to break the weird silence in order to prevent him from ruining the roast. 
You watched as he slipped the pan into the oven, admiring the man that you had accidentally fell in love with. 
“Hey, Dollface?” Vox had a look on his face you couldn’t read and that scared you, “About what you said earlier? About-”
You forced a laugh as you looked away, busying yourself with cleaning up. Hopefully it looked natural, not showing how terrified you were. If you didn’t tell him how you felt, his weird pretend that you did a few times a week could continue and you could have him as your’s in the little world you made. 
“Look at me,” Vox’s clawed hand wrapped around your bicep, forcing you to face him. “What if a girl got her hopes up? What if a guy got his hopes up?”
“What are you-?” 
“What if we made this real?” Vox asked, not giving you a chance to think, breath or get your bearings. “What if we stopped hiding this little thing we got? What if we let it out into the world?” 
“Vox?” 
“I come here and it’s the best damn time of my week. We order dinner in and pretend we’re out. We sneak away in the offices and pretend we’re not hiding. Why are we hiding?” 
“We’re hiding because VoxTek is perfection and I’m not.” You need him to be sure. You couldn’t stand the idea of shattering that little thing between you that you kept safe in the confines of your apartment. 
“Who says you’re not?” Vox’s voice rose but he quickly schooled it as he stepped into your space, looking down at you. “You’re perfect in my eyes, Doll. I fucking love you and I don’t want to hide that.”
“I love you too.” 
144 notes · View notes
lilbabypanda-blog2 · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Two sides of a Gem (part 1)
Aventurine x (stoneheart) reader
Preview
Reader will be known as ruby, will appear as a male stoic and monotone. But it's actually just a puppet. No one knows where the real ruby is and what she's up to. She just lets her puppet do her work, and most people only know the puppet as Ruby and not her true self
Aventurine will meet the real ruby known as Y/N:
The dining hall shimmered with an air of manufactured elegance- crystal chandeliers dripped with golden light, the polished mahogany table stretched endlessly, and faint strains of classical music drifted in from hidden speakers. Ruby sat at the head of the table, a silhouette of sharp angles and cold precision. His gloved hands rested neatly on the tablecloth, and his head tilted slightly as if the world itself existed on borrowed time.
The guests-four well-tailored business moguls with practiced smiles and serpentine eyes-feigned polite conversation, their voices syrupy and edges laced with tension. Wine glasses clinked as Ruby's featureless gaze remained locked on them, his presence an immovable weight in the room.
One of the men, a broad-shouldered executive named Calem, cleared his throat, breaking the brittle silence. "Ruby, my friend, surely you can see the... advantage of this proposal. Mutual benefit is, after all, the cornerstone of trust."
Ruby's voice emerged-flat, devoid of humanity, yet impossibly steady. "Trust is a fragile thing, Calem. It shatters far easier than it's built."
Calem's smirk faltered. Across the table, a woman in crimson silk reached beneath the tablecloth. Ruby's head shifted ever so slightly, his glass of wine still untouched.
"Let's not waste time with pretense," Ruby continued, unblinking. "You didn't invite me here to discuss partnerships."
The air thickened. The faint scrape of metal whispered from beneath the table-a knife? A gun? It hardly mattered. In the reflection of a silver wine decanter, Ruby's puppet eyes caught the glint of intent.
Calem's smile returned, colder this time. "Well, you see, Ruby... you've become an obstacle."
A single beat passed.
Then-chaos.
The woman lunged, dagger flashing.
Calem pulled a pistol from his jacket. Two others followed suit, their chairs screeching against marble floors. But Ruby didn't flinch. In one impossibly fluid motion, he stood, the motion smooth and inhuman, his coat tails fluttering as he evaded the blade by a hair's breadth.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, Ruby's gloved hand caught the dagger mid-air and drove it cleanly into the woman's arm. A gunshot rang out-Ruby sidestepped, the bullet grazing harmlessly past his shoulder. Inhuman precision governed every move as though he were a marionette in the hands of a master puppeteer.
In mere moments, the dining hall returned to silence. The would-be assassins lay scattered-disarmed, groaning, alive but humiliated.
Ruby straightened his jacket and adjusted his cufflinks, crimson staining the snowy fabric of the tablecloth. His head tilted slightly once again, like a doll reset into position.
"An obstacle, you said?" Ruby's voice cut through the air, sharp as glass. "I believe the evening's entertainment has concluded. I'll be taking my leave."
As he turned towards the grand double door, it burst open and ipc guards rushed in taking care of the rest.
---------
The IPC Headquarters stood as a monolith of power and precision, its towering silhouette cutting against the neon haze of the city skyline. Inside the Strategic Command Center, glowing monitors bathed the room in cold blues and greens as analysts scurried across the polished floor, eyes locked on their displays.
At the heart of the controlled chaos stood Opal—a diminutive figure with sharp, bird-like features, his glistening amber eyes darting across multiple displays. His crisp suit, tailored to perfection, hung lightly off his slight frame, giving him an almost delicate appearance—one that hid an iron will.
Beside him leaned Jade, a tall and imposing woman with creditor traits—a sharp jawline, skin marked with faint glowing lines, and piercing emerald eyes. Her sleek black attire clung to her form like a second skin, and a faint, predatory smirk played on her lips as she scrolled through her data pad.
The grand doors slid open with a faint hiss, and Ruby entered—imposing and immaculate in his dark attire. His measured steps echoed softly across the marble floor as he approached the command table.
“Ruby,” Opal said without glancing up from his screens, his voice calm but edged with sharp authority. “The dinner party. I assume it concluded... less elegantly than intended.”
Ruby’s voice came low and measured, like the ticking of a clock. “The attempted ambush was handled. Four instigators neutralized, no survivors outside IPC parameters. Clean-up is in progress.”
Jade raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Neutralized. You always make it sound so... clinical.”
Opal finally turned his attention to Ruby, his sharp eyes studying the puppet with a calculating glint. “You were thorough, as always. But this wasn’t random—it was premeditated. Whoever pulled those strings expected you to fail.”
Ruby gave a slight nod, his tone unchanging. “Their movements were too coordinated for an improvised strike. My assessment matches yours, Opal. Someone is testing our vulnerabilities.”
Jade clicked her tongue and leaned against the console, one hand tracing an idle line across the glowing surface. “Whoever they are, they underestimated you. Still…” Her emerald gaze locked onto Ruby’s hollow eyes. “You felt it, didn’t you? The moment the trap was sprung.”
Ruby’s head tilted slightly, a subtle acknowledgment. “Yes. And I acted accordingly.”
The air between the three hung heavy with unspoken understanding. They all knew Ruby wasn’t just a tool—he was something more. Conscious. Aware. And yet, undeniably loyal to her.
Opal clasped his small hands behind his back and turned away, his sharp profile illuminated by the glow of data streams. “Ruby, return to the secure quarters. Keep your connection with her active. Tell Y/N we expect updates regularly. This chessboard is becoming crowded, and every move counts.”
Ruby nodded and
With the same fluid precision, Ruby turned and exited the command center, the doors sealing shut behind him with a quiet hiss.
<IPC Headquarters, Lower Corridors>
The hum of distant machinery reverberated faintly through the sterile corridors of IPC Headquarters. Overhead lights cast sharp, sterile beams across polished floors, and the faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air. Ruby moved with his usual precision, each step measured, his figure a perfect silhouette of control and cold efficiency.
As he turned a corner, a figure blocked his path—Aventurine.
Leaning casually against the corridor wall, Aventurine’s sandy-blond hair caught the overhead light, strands falling messily over his sharp features. His vibrant eyes magenta, cyan—glimmered with a mixture of mischief and sharp calculation. The slitted pupils gave him a predatory elegance, like a feline sizing up its prey.
“Ruby,” Aventurine greeted, his voice smooth and carrying a faint lilt of amusement. “You always walk these halls like you’re headed somewhere important. Do you ever stop to enjoy the view?”
Ruby came to a stop, his hollow gaze locking onto Aventurine’s mismatched eyes. “Aventurine. Do you have a purpose in blocking my path?”
Aventurine pushed off the wall with fluid grace, hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored coat. “Straight to the point, as always. Fine—I’ll skip the pleasantries.” His smile faltered slightly, replaced by something more serious. “I need your help, Ruby. With the Penacony Project.”
For a brief moment, silence settled over them. Ruby’s head tilted slightly in that precise, unnerving way—like a marionette waiting for its next instruction.
“The Penacony Project is not within my current operational parameters,” Ruby said flatly.
Aventurine let out a soft sigh, his gaze never leaving Ruby’s unmoving form. “Look, I know you’re busy with… whatever it is Opal and Jade have you running around for. But Penacony isn’t just another operation—it’s the operation. We both know what’s at stake here.”
Ruby remained silent, his mechanical stillness unbroken.
“Come on,” Aventurine continued, taking a step closer, his mismatched eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re the best asset IPC has. With you on board, we’d have a real chance at making this work without unnecessary… complications.”
“The answer is no,” Ruby said finally, his voice as cold and steady as ever. “I cannot assist with the Penacony Project at this time.”
Aventurine stared at him for a long moment, frustration flickering across his sharp features before he let out a resigned sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Ruby didn’t respond, simply standing there, unmoved.
“But,” Aventurine continued, his voice softening into something lighter, “there’s something else. A smaller operation—off the radar. I could use someone like you for it. Quick, clean, and minimal oversight.”
Ruby’s head tilted again, an indication he was considering the offer. “Details?”
Aventurine smirked faintly, a spark of satisfaction glinting in his vibrant eyes. “Classified, for now. But I promise—it’s nothing that’ll interfere with whatever else you’ve got going on.”
A brief pause followed before Ruby inclined his head slightly in agreement. “I’ll assist with this side operation. Provide me with the necessary information and parameters.”
Aventurine grinned, sharp and catlike, his teeth glinting faintly in the corridor light. “Knew I could count on you, Ruby. I’ll send the briefing to your terminal.”
He turned on his heel, his coat fluttering slightly as he walked past Ruby, but not before pausing briefly beside him. Aventurine leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial murmur.
“You know… sometimes I wonder if there’s more to you than what we see, Ruby.”
Ruby didn’t move, his head remaining perfectly still, but his hollow voice came out unshaken. “Wondering serves no purpose, Aventurine.”
Aventurine chuckled softly and stepped away, walking down the corridor with his hands in his pockets, humming a faint tune as he disappeared around the corner.
Ruby stood there for a moment longer before continuing his walk, each step as measured and deliberate as before. Somewhere far away, Y/N’s voice crackled faintly through their hidden connection.
“Good job keeping him off track, Ruby. But keep an eye on Aventurine… he’s sharp.”
Ruby gave the slightest nod as he continued his path toward his quarters.
--------
AN. SO this is the official first part, not proofread yet
42 notes · View notes
mypearlsareclutched · 4 months ago
Text
Loving You Is Hard
High By The Beach | Chapter One
Tumblr media
Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character
To be loved, is to be known. Time passes so quickly when you are happy, and for the first time, Mila Stark seems to know true happiness. But when you fall in love with someone, and your walls come crashing down, your weak points are bared for all to see. Be careful who you trust your heart to...
Chapter one, babygirls. What seems like a blissful relationship in front of the cameras, is actually a leaning tower readying to fall. The heart is a fickle thing, once broken, can it be mended? This chapter is VERY Back to Black (Amy Winehouse) coded, I am warning you.
Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey
CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), SERIOUS drug use, alcohol consumption, Targaryen daddy issues, smoking, romantical shagging, brief allusions to grooming, mentions of parent death, ANGST, infidelity, overdosing and almost dying.
Word Count | 5.3k
previous chapter // next chapter
Tumblr media
Isn't it crazy how a year can pass in the blink of an eye?
For Mila, It feels like only yesterday she met Aemond Targaryen, the straight-backed second son of a business mogul. Only yesterday when he gave her his lighter, then she fucked him in the bathroom, subsequently offering him her number with a smirk.
But a year has passed since that night. He called her the next morning, talking to her in his deep, soft-spoken way, inviting her somewhere nice. Their first date was perfect, they sat together and spoke easily, his attention never wavering from her. They walked hand in hand back to her flat. Then he broke her bed.
Many months had passed with this being a regular occurance. Once Otto Hightower found out that Aemond and Mila were seeing one another, he was eager for their relationship to be public. All of sudden, Mila traded her candid shots of her walking out of a club shitfaced and bleary eyed, for staged shots of her walking hand in hand with the second heir to the Targaryen fortune.
Cregan had been shocked. He was uncomfortable with such an imposing and threatening looking man dating his sister, coming from such a formidable family no less. Aemond listened to Cregan's thinly veiled complaints, merely shrugging off his concerns. Even a year after their first meeting, Cregan remained uncertain about Aemond and his intentions.
Their surrogate family was even less happy. Rhaenyra and Aemond are half-siblings, sharing a father in Viserys Targaryen. Eighteen years difference between them, sure, but the fact that Mina is dating one of the sons from the family that replaced Rhaenyra stung. But Rhaenyra's hostility was not aimed at Mila. She, Jace, Luke, Laenor, even Qarl were against the relationship. An intervention was held at one point, but the eery familiarity to that night in her past made Mila run, falling into the arms of Aemond as she panicked.
Aemond's family had welcomed her. The first time Mila walked into the Targaryen mansion as Aemond's girlfriend, she had been celebrated as if she were royalty. Alicent had hugged her upon arrival, and she seemed genuinely ecstatic to get to know her. Halaena introduced her to Dreamfyre, and all of her critters. Daeron, Aemond's younger brother, talked her head off and showed her his footy skills. He went feral when she did a rainbow flick in heels, courtesy of having Cregan Stark as her brother. She did not meet Viserys that day, he was too sick to welcome visitors. As Mila was welcomed into the family, Otto watched with a small smile, his eyes sharp like a snakes.
The night she met his family, he showed her his hidden eye. An accident in his youth left him scarred, his one eye lost and replaced by a sapphire. He leans into her touch as she kisses his scar, telling him he is beautiful.
A year of public appearances, a year of hostility between family members, a year of sharing meals and moments with the illustrious Targaryens. A year of falling in love with Aemond Targaryen.
How was she to know this was the calm before the storm?
Tumblr media
She and Aemond lay in her bed, his head resting on her chest. A vicious family argument had sent him into her arms, wound tight and on the verge of breaking something. He had fucked her hard and rough, making her scream loud enough to wake her neighbors, her headboard creating an intent in her wall. After making her cum four times, he laid down beside her, his own pleasure forgotten as he accepted her loving embrace.
"What happened, baby?" Mila finally asks, running her fingers through his soft hair. He hesitates, before releasing a sigh.
"My father brought our family together to talk about his will." Aemond murmurs, staring at the wall, "He still wants Rhaenyra as his heir, despite her insistence that she has to focus on her own career. Father wants Rhaenyra. He won't allow her to give up her inheritance... because of Aegon."
Aegon. Aemond's older brother was a difficult topic of conversation for them. The first born son of Viserys Targaryen was currently in rehab, some fancy facility. Aemond never spoke about his brother in a good light, though Mila heard plenty of kinder words from Halaena and Daeron, sometimes Alicent if she had had a few glasses of wine.
Halaena had said he had a kind heart, Daeron had said that he was funny, Alicent had said that he was trying to be better. Otto refused to speak about him, Rhaenyra said he was troubled, Jace said he was a bully. Viserys' forgot his name once.
The closest Mila had gotten to interacting with him was when he escaped from rehab. Aemond had received a call in the middle of the night. He spoke in a hushed voice to Criston Cole, the Targaryen head of security, and then rushed off into the night. When he did not return, Mila went to the mansion, and found a clusterfuck of chaos. The entire security team was trying to get Aeon out from the pool, but he was as high as a kite and refusing. Mila had watched as Aemond dragged him out by his collar, throwing him in Cole's car to be sent back to the facility. As it drove past, a pair of big blue eyes looked out at her, and Mila felt the urge to wave at him. When she did, he waved back.
"He won't even consider you?" Mila asks Aemond, feeling him tense against her.
"No." He bites, voice hard, "Otto has tried to make him see reason; Rhaenyra has had no involvement in the company since she married and left to start her own business. All my life I have worked for this. And yet the old man is still blinded."
"I'm so sorry, my love." Mila murmurs, unsure of what to say, "I'm sure your father will see sense soon-"
"Enough. I don't want to talk about it." Aemond sits up, shoulders hunched. His hair surrounds him like a curtain, shielding his face from her, "You don't know what it's like to feel like you're not enough."
Mila shudders, closing her eyes. Memories fill her mind, taking her to a dark place.
While the media only knew about her recreational drug use and partying ways, they never knew about her vicious affair with the needle. Heroin had been her escape when her parents passed away, and it was all on her brothers shoulders to get her help. When he was at his breaking point, Rhaenyra and Laenor took her back in, letting her detox and keeping her warm, fed, safe and loved. Even when she screamed, thrashed, and spat cruel words, they never lost hope in her.
Her brother and her surrogate family never thought less of her, but she thought less of herself. When she remembers who she was, how deep she was in her addiction, she hates herself. More than she has ever hated anything.
"Mila?" A warm hand presses to her shoulder, and Mila snaps back to reality, Aemond watches her with a worried eye, his sapphire gleaming in the low light, "What happened? You look pale."
Aemond cups her face, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Smiling weakly, she rests her hand over his own, leaning in to his touch.
"I... I know what it feels like to feel like a disappointment, to feel like you aren't capable." She whispers, "You're amazing, Aemond. But it's never enough for your family. My family believes in me, but I don't know if I deserve it."
He listens as she breaks down, confessing her sins through tears, recounting her addiction, her grief, her self hatred. By the end of her rant, Aemond holds her close, lay side by side as he soothes her.
"None of that is your fault." He murmurs, kissing her knuckles, "Your family know you are worth more than you think, and I know that to."
"Aemond..." I love you, is what she wants to say, "Thank you."
"No. sweet girl, thank you." Aemond leans forwards, kissing along her cheeks, soothing the skin that was stained with tears. His hands covered her body, warmth spreading through her, soothing her tremors. Familiar need coursed through her, and she leaned into him, kissing him deeply.
"Need you." Mila murmurs against his lips, and he smiles softly.
"I've got you." Aemond promises.
He pushes her back, climbing on top of her. Mila spreads her legs willingly, and Aemond fits snugly against her. He presses hungry kissing along her neck as his cock presses into her, hot and hard. She gasps as she spreads her legs further apart, accommodating his lean body.
As Aemond fills her, Mila whines, pleading for more as he sets a slow, passionate pace. Their hips clap together, their staggered breaths mingling as they kiss messily. The room is hot, sweaty. Aemond's pace increases, desire for release coursing through him, his intensity leaving Mila a whimpering mess beneath him, looking up at him with adoring eyes until he could bare it no more, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.
"I've got you, I've got you..." Aemond breathes against her, lost in his own pleasure as he thrusts inside her, fucking her harder and deeper as they both tried to wash away their pain...
Tumblr media
Today is Viserys Targaryen's sixtieth birthday. Probably the last one he will ever have, and thus, the celebrations are spectacular.
The once feared and revered CEO of Targaryen LTD walks out into the foyer of his pristine mansion with a cane, face half hidden with a masquerade mask as to not showcase his deformities. Otto was the one to suggest the theme, a masquerade party to add a touch of class. Definitely not to have an excuse to hide the rotting side of Viserys' face, taken by the inoperable tumour in his head.
As Viserys was cheered and greeted by his friends and colleagues, Mila stood by Aemond's side, a red mask across her eyes, matching the read, satin dress she wore. Aemond wore a green mask, covering his patched eye, and a deep green suit. His hand held her waist softly, keeping her close by as he watched his father with distaste.
"Do you want a drink, Aem?" Mila asks, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He does not answer, his eye trained on his father's hunched form, weaving his way through the crowd, "Aemond?"
"Yes?" He responds, looking down at her, his eye softening, "What did you say, love?"
"Do you want a drink?"
"No, thank you." Aemond presses a kiss to her forehead, and she beams up at him. The crowd around them mill about, the attention focused on Viserys and therefore letting the two of them idly talk and enjoy each other's company.
Mila raves on about a new song Rhaena was composing, eagerly spouting out facts and answering questions Aemond would occasionally ask. For the most part, he remained silent, content to listen to her and observe her with a soft look in his eyes.
A whirl of black hair catches the Targaryen's attention, and his eye flickers to look over Mila's shoulder. His face drops, eye widening as his grip on the Stark girl loosens, body going slack.
Mila stops talking, eyebrows furrowing as she takes in Aemond's harrowed look, "Baby, what's wrong?"
Aemond is unmoving, eye wide as he stares. Mila follows his line of sight, spotting a tall, slender woman watching the pair across the room. She is dressed in black, a veil over her mask. Her dark hair surrounds her like a blanket. Under the veil, Mila can clearly see a smirk. Ice grips her, as she huddles closer to her boyfriend.
A broad, bearded man walks over to Aemond, and he shakes out of his trance, offering the man his hand to shake, "Borros, thank you for coming."
"A wonderful event, Aemond." Borros nods, his eyes moving over to Mila, his eyebrow raising in judgment. Mila stiffens, feeling scrutinised and unsure.
Aemond clears his throat, extracting his arm from around her, "Mila, could you get me a drink, please?"
"...Sure." Mila says, clenching her jaw as she walks off. Behind her, she can hear Borros Baratheon mutter something about Aemond 'taming the She-Wolf', causing Aemond to chuckle softly and respond with quieter words. Suddenly, Mila feels sick.
Walking across the crowded hall, Mila finds herself at the bar, gripping onto the edge as she bites back tears threatening to spill.
"Woah, woah, that's expensive dark oak, kid." Daeron jokes as he joins her side, smile faltering as he sees her saddened eyes, "Hey, what's up?"
"Nothing, Dare. I'm fine, just, uh, I need a drink."
"Okay... do you want me to get Hel?" He asks, clearly deeply concerned.
Mila manages a weak smile, "I'll go and talk to her if things get worse, thanks, kid."
"No worries, kid." Daeron elbows her gently, giving her another worried look before he joins his father's side. Mila shakes her head, catching her bearings as she orders Aemond two fingers of whiskey.
Grasping the drink in shaky hands, she weaves her way back around the crowd, saying the occasional greeting to people she knew. Walking past an alcove, she spots Otto Hightower's fuming form.
"What the hell is she doing here?!" Otto demands, as poor Criston Cole stands in front of him. Criston defends himself, saying that he had no idea how she managed to get in, it must have been the mask. When they notice her watching, they stop talking, Cold offering her a courteous nod. She reciprocates, but feels unwelcome at this event, suddenly.
Borros Baratheon bellows out a laugh, talking to three women instead of Aemond. With a furrowed brow, Mila searches around, palm warming the glass of whiskey she held.
She stops in her tracks, going cold as she lays eyes on Aemond and the person he is speaking to. The veiled woman from before rests a slender hand on his arm. Aemond stares down at her, making no move to remove her hand. The woman takes a step further, close enough to kiss him if she leant a breath closer.
Swallowing thickly, Mila abandons the drink, turning on her heel in search of Halaena.
Tumblr media
It is often easy to find Halaena Targaryen. Just go wherever there will be bugs.
In the Targaryen gardens, a silvery head looks down in the bushes, the sleeves of her blue gown bunched up as she searches amongst the flowers.
"What have you found, lovely?" Mila calls, her rage dissipating as she joins the side of her friend. Halaena beams, her curls surrounding her face as she victoriously gasps, pulling out her closed fist.
Opening her hand, Mila smiles at the sight of a bright green caterpillar. It slinks across Halaena's pale palm, sniffing her out.
"Look at him." Mila murmurs.
"Her." Halaena corrects, "She's a girl."
"And a very gorgeous one at that." Mila follows Halaena as she brings the caterpillar over to one of her glass enclosures, putting him in it gently.
"Tessarion will eat him, I know he likes to play in these bushes." Halaena was right, Daeron's tabby cat Tessarion would definitely have the caterpillar as a snack.
"You're very kind, Hel."
Halaena smiles again, closing the enclosure and walking over to the open doors of the hall. The pair observe the celebrations, standing in calm silence before Mila realises Helaena is staring at her instead.
"Everything okay?" She asks, taking in the Targaryens suddenly grim face.
Without a word, Halaena takes her hands in her own, blinking rapidly as she tries to make sense of her own thoughts. "Love will make you sick." Halaena murmurs, looking somberly into Mila's eyes, "And love will heal you again."
"What do you mean, bug?" Mila asks softly, the blonde's strange way of speaking no longer startled her, only made her grow even fonder.
"The Stranger will try to take you too soon. But you can't go yet, you haven't met him."
With that, Halaena sighs, bringing Mila's hands up to lay a small peck on her knuckles, then wandering back out into the crowd. Mila took great pride in the fact that Halaena would only touch people she truly trusted, but something about that interaction made Mila worried.
The crowd was alive as people grew drunker. Mila watched as Viserys was lead back upstairs, presumably tired out by the evening. Waltzing in and out of conversation, the She-Wolf tried to find Aemond, wanting nothing more than to curl up into his side.
However, it seemed like that would not be in the cards.
Aemond stands beside Alys, the pair talking with a small group of partygoers. A laugh erupts at something Alys says, and she leans against Aemond with a smile.
Seeing red, Mila makes her way over. Aemond stiffens as she approaches, and the group quietens down. Alys remains smirking, looking the younger woman up and down. The Targaryen at her side makes no effort to move.
"Where've you been?" Mila asks, uncaring of those watching.
"What do you mean?" Aemond raises an eyebrow.
"I've been looking for you."
Aemond shrugs, looking around the surrounding area like it was obvious. A few guests chuckle, causing Mila's cheeks to heat up.
"With her?" Mila bites, nodding to Alys.
"My name's Alys." The woman says, unhelpful in her lulling voice.
"I don't remember asking."
"I thought you would want a name."
"Perhaps he would." Mila glares at Aemond, who looks to the floor, jaw tense.
"We've known each other a while." Alys purses her lips, a mischievous glint in her eye, "We're well introduced."
The mocking nature of her tone and words makes Mila feel small, her humiliation increasing with the beady eyes of the surrounding guests.
"What is going on here?"
Like meerkats, the groups heads turn collectively as Alicent appears. With Criston Cole at her side, the Targaryen matriarch's face contorts into a confused frown as she looks at Mila's downturned eyes.
With a look to Aemond and Alys, she turns to Cole.
"Remove her."
Mila looks up, eyes wide as she looks at Alicent. But when she does, she finds the red-haired woman looking at Alys, a sneer on her lips. Criston offers Mila a nod, stepping towards Alys, who holds up a dismissive hand.
"No need. I was just leaving." She purrs, turning her head to Aemond. Leaning towards him, she whispers something, before turning and leaving.
Aemond watches her go, until she is swallowed up by the crowd. Mila cannot break her gaze from him, her heart ripping itself apart by the longing look in her eyes.
"See she is truly off the premises, Criston." Alicent says, and Cole follows Alys. As he disappears, Aemond looks at his mother, who gives him a stern, icy glare. A silent conversation is had, which no one dares interrupt. As Aemond finally breaks eye contact, Alicent nods.
Taking Mila's hand, the Targaryen matriarch walks away.
Tumblr media
Mila storms into Aemond's apartment, shucking off her coat as she seethes. Aemond follows wordlessly, face stony as he watches her outburst. Pacing, Mila gnaws on her lip, breath coming out in quick pants as she tries to reign in her rage.
The car trip back had been awkward. Mila had been silent, her knuckles white as she gripped her steering wheel, and Aemond was motionless beside her. After Alicent had taken Mila away, the two women had sat together outside, not speaking, merely sitting alone, together. It was peaceful, and Mila so grateful for Alicent, but the second she saw her son again, she grew enraged.
The only thing Alicent said to her was: "I know what it feels like, to live in another woman's shadow."
"Why are you so upset?" Aemond breaks the silence.
Halting, Mila slowly turns to her boyfriend, the air in his apartment alight with tension, "Why am I so upset?"
"Yes, that is what I asked."
"I am upset because you spent half the evening playing cat and mouse with your senior citizen ex-girlfriend, and then you humiliated me in front of your family and friends! Your mother had to come and defend me, Aemond. She had to save me from your embarrassment!"
"Please." Aemond scoffs, tutting as he walks over to his bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the counter to pour himself a drink, "You embarrassed yourself."
"By doing what?" Mila questioned, voice rising with her growing rage, "By trying to remind you that I am your girlfriend, not her? By trying to divert your fucking attention for five minutes?"
"You have nothing to worry about." Aemond says, his back still turned, "I didn't realise your insecurity would breed jealousy."
"Excuse me?" Mila demands, her voice taking an icy tone. Sensing her growing anger, Aemond turns to look at her.
"You're behaving irrationally." The silver-hair man insists, eyeing her with his singular eye.
"Oh, am I?" She laughs bitterly, astounded by the audacity.
"This is no way for you to be acting." Aemond sighs, looking disappointed, "Have you drank too much?"
Tensions were rising. They didn't often fight like this, but Mila was embarrassed now, as well as angry, "What? You think you're better than me? Huh?"
"I have a reputation to uphold, Mila." Aemond bit, shaking his head dismissively.
"Right. My apologies, oh great Aemond, for being a dumb, ditsy, drunken slag who you are forced to stand around with at events!"
"I don't think that-"
"Don't you?" Mila snaps, fists clenching, "I see how you look at me sometimes, when you think I'm not looking. When we're alone, you act like I hung the stars, but whenever you have to be in public with me, you sneer like I'm an embarrassment!"
"You behave like an embarrassment! Drinking, talking too loud, biting at the bit for the opportunity to get high again. Gods, my family don't need to be around that after everything with Aegon!"
"Why are you bringing him up again?" Mila groans, rubbing her hands over her face, "He's in rehab. He's been gone for months. He's trying, but you still see him as this big ,grey cloud over the family!"
"It's my responsibility to take care of the family." He insists.
"Because you're the second eldest son?" Mila scoffs, and Aemond's face turns stormy, his eyes dangerous.
"Because I will be taking this company over when my father passes."
"You think?" Mila laughs cruelly, the buzz of alcohol making her next words fall out of her lips before she thinks, "Even with your brother gone, they're never going to let you take over the company! You're always going to be the second son-"
Aemond slams his glass on the counter, storming over to her to point in her face. "And you will always be stupid junkie whore!" He yells, "Immune to responsibility, unwilling to grow up and move on from her pathetic vices! At least I have something I am working towards, something I want. You spend your days aching for the needle to make you feel something other than the emptiness inside of you!"
His words send a wave of ice through her, her mouth snapping shut and her anger dissipating and turning into a sharp stab in her chest, grief and anguish and betrayal flowing through her. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She turned her back on him, shaking.
Aemond regretted the words the second they came out.
He didn't mean them, not at all. Mila had told him about her past in confidence. The guilt at putting her through her addiction, the shame at feeling weak, the urge that still lingered in her soul... it was something she only told the people she trusted.
And Aemond knew it would hurt her.
His own shame filled him, and his stomach churned as he took a shuddering breath, running his hand through his hair.
"Baby... I'm so sorry. I- I didn't mean that." He whispers, swallowing as his mouth goes dry.
"Shut up." Mila sobbed, her hands shaking as she held them up to her mouth in an effort to stop herself screaming.
"Mila, please, I'm so sorry." Aemond pleaded, placing a hand on her arm, leaning into her to press his forehead to the crown of her head, "I swear, I don't think that. I have never thought that. My sweet girl, I am so sorry..."
Aemond clutched onto her, holding her close as she continued to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned and pushed him away, shuddering as if she were cold. Aemond felt sick, watching with his heart broken and tears filling his eye as she grabbed her coat and left, slamming the door in her wake.
Tumblr media
In her haste to leave, all Mila had on her was her phone. Her purse was left at Aemond's, along with her house keys and her car key. Looking at her black Range Rover, she releases a sob, turning on her heel and stomping down the path, too eager to be away from Aemond to think things through.
She needs space, she needs air, she needs to think.
Aemond, the one man she allowed herself to trust, to fall in love with, hurt her worse than anyone ever has. The policewoman who told her that her parents were involved in a car wreck, the doctor who broke the news that they had both passed... they had destroyed her with their words. But they hadn't meant to.
Aemond Targaryen tried to hurt her.
Clearly, he succeeded. Now she wandered in the streets, too angry to go back and get her keys, too proud to call someone to come and get her, too lost to know what to do next.
Little did she know, Aemond was hurting as well.
He sat in his chair, head held in his hands as he cursed himself over and over again. Cursed himself for his cruel words, cursed himself for betraying Mila's trust, cursed himself for falling into Alys' clutches, cursed himself for being deformed, cursed himself for being a second son.
A tear fell down from his singular eye, another cruel reminder that everything he does will only be worth half. He couldn't even cry like a normal person.
A brisk knock on the door startles him, and he whipped his head up in a flurry of silver before rising and rushing to the door. Flinging it open, he expected to see Mila... but his shoulders slumped and his heart dropped when he met the ice toned eyes of his all too familiar visitor.
"Hello, my darling." Alys greets, smirking.
The Targaryen stands still, staring down at her with what he hopes is a venomous look. It does not deter her, however.
"Well? Are you going to let me in?" Alys asks, though she knows the answer.
Despite it all. He will let her in. He will kiss her, he will fuck her, he will hold her through the night, as he always has. As he probably always will. Not so long ago, he would have done this and felt nothing, as he always has.
But now, as he lies on rumpled sheets, bare skin covered in goosebumps and a layer of sweat, he feels guilt, and he feels shame, and he feels so, achingly alone. His heart is bleeding out inside him, the woman lying next to him, sated and asleep, is not the woman he loves.
He wants her. He wants Mila. And he's the reason why she's not here.
Tumblr media
The devil works hard, but the paparazzi works harder.
Just an hour after Mila left, mindlessly walking around Flea Bottom as she caught her bearings, her phone buzzed. An unknown number sent her a message, and she foolishly opened it.
Trouble in paradise? -LS
Larys Strong. The Perez Hilton of Kings Landing. Mila rolled her eyes, about to turn her phone off and ignore his bait. But then she got another notification, a picture...
It was of Aemond's flat. The photo was pointed up, focusing on the living room window, the lights dimmed but two figures could be seen. Aemond was leant over a woman, her hair the colour of a midnight sky, and a tattoo of an owl was wrapped around her bare shoulder.
Alys. He was kissing down her neck, her hand had disappeared down his trousers.
No fucking way... Mila clutched her phone, her stomach turning and her heart racing. It's got to be an old photo- But in the photo, she could clearly see her own car parked right outside the complex, where she had left it this evening.
Gods, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much, clawing at her throat and pressing down on her lungs. It felt so similar to how she did when she was told her parents were never coming back. They were gone, so far out of reach. Like how Aemond was. How he probably had always been. A sickening feeling was in her heart. A need, a deep desire to feel something else.
Mila had no desire to be sober anymore.
The night air nipped at her skin through her coat, biting and clawing at her as tears fell down her cheeks. A man wolf-whistled at her, but a sharp look his way shut him up.
That's right, bitch. I'm the motherfucking She-Wolf.
But she never felt weaker as she found herself in front of a familiar alleyway. Walking down it, deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast, her body hummed with the anticipation of what was to come. She makes her way to a rusty, metal door practically hanging off its hinges, and kicks it hard enough it shakes and groans like thunder.
A burly man opens the door, sneering down at her with blackened teeth, "What do you want, little thing?"
"Tell the Lion the She-Wolf needs a hit."
With a sigh, he turns and shuffles away, leaving Mila to shiver in the doorway. He does not reappear. Instead, a lanky, blonde-haired man saunters forwards.
"Mila?" Jason Lannister narrows his eyes, looking at her through thin blonde lashes surrounded by red. A smile erupts on his face as she steps closer, "Mila fucking Stark. Can't believe you're here."
"Enough of that, Jason." Mila sighs, wrapping her arms around herself, "Do you still sell dope?"
Jason's smile widens, patting his pockets before he finds what he's looking for, pulling out a small plastic bag, the white powder shimmering in the moonlight, "Free, for my favourite girl."
Mila eyes the baggie, chewing on her lower lip as she hesitates. But after Jason shakes it slightly, throwing her a wink. She takes it, stuffing it into her jacket before nodding.
"Thanks."
"Anytime, sweetness." Jason leers, looking her up and down, "Am I going to get an unpleasant call from an angry Targaryen?"
"Unlikely."
With a look over her shoulder, Mila disappears down the alley, heading to her flat. When she gets there, her vision is tunnelled, her mind only focused on getting high. Working on automatic, she uses her spare key to get in, finding it hidden under a flower pot. She doesn't even remove her coat as she storms to the bathroom. Underneath a bathroom tile, she finds her old stash of medical needles, her spoon, her cotton and her dad's belt.
Everything happened in a blur. Bag opening, lighter flickering, the tight belt around her arm, the needle... then she was lay back across the ceramic, euphoria taking over as she stared blearily at the ceiling-
But something was wrong.
Her vision flew in and out, her body unfeeling and her mind elsewhere. A voice could be heard shouting, doors were slamming, a distant siren... someone was lifting her up, someone else was holding her hand, telling her that everything would be alright.
Why wouldn't everything be alright? Was her last thought, as she succumbed to the fog within her mind.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
AN// Well that was hella morbid, my apologies. I decided to write angst and so I wrote ANGST. Trust, things will get better, babygirl Mila is just going through it. See you soon!
Lula x
72 notes · View notes
picsthatmakeyougohmm · 1 year ago
Note
Hello Dear Friend.
I was in your country in 2019.I have gone through your profile and decided to go straight to the point on why i wholeheartedly contacting you.
My name is Mrs. Marion Gadsby from Thailand,Australian,79years,I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer .It has defiled all forms of medical treatment, and right now I have only about a month to live, according to medical experts. I have not particularly lived my life so well, as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business was my priority.
Though I am a very rich lady, I was never generous, I was always hostile to people and only focused on my business as that was the only thing I cared for. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just wanting to have or make all the money in the world.
I Am very sick now and depends on machines to survive which I know one day one minute I will be no more , but before departing I have a fortune I will like to confined your position so that you can use it and do the humanitarian work which I failed to do when I had the grace and the time. I have willed and given to my immediate and extended family members ,but these last funds I would want to be useful to the poor and the needy. I don't trust any of my family members again because I don't think that they will deliver the fortune to the poor and needy. This is the main reason why I contacted you because I believe you will make it happen as I will instruct you in the future when the fortune is in your hands.
I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul, so I have decided to give alms to charity organizations, as I want this to be one of the last good deeds I do on earth.
I cannot do this myself anymore. I once asked members of my family to close one of my accounts and distribute the money which I have there to charity organizations in Bulgaria and Pakistan, but they refused and kept the money to themselves and used it to buy flashy cars and big houses in the city. Hence, I do not trust them anymore, as they seem not to be content with what I have left for them. The last of my money which no one knows of is the sum of $3,000,000.00( Three Million dollars) my late husband was wealthy as an oil mogul, politician and other businesses, but he died in his private jet crash .WE CAN'T QUESTION GOD.
I will let you have 20% of his funds for your effort and time and the 80% should go to the poor and needy around you, especially those that are in war zones. Treat this message confidentially till it's done. I am waiting for your reply.
Contact me direct for more information. [email protected]
Mrs Marion Gasby. [email protected]
Finally destiny knocked at my door. I'm rich! I don't have to run this blog anymore.
I'll find plenty of big tiddy goth girlfriends with a million dollars
392 notes · View notes
mrs-stans · 2 months ago
Text
Sebastian Stan Scolds “Hypocrite” Trump at ‘The Apprentice’ U.K. Premiere: “Do You Really Trust This Person to Lead a Country?”
Stan, who portrays Donald Trump in Ali Abbasi's new movie, was asked whether this film debuting so close to the U.S. election could sway voters: "He's been trying to censor this movie, and at the same time, he claims he acknowledges free speech. I can't think of anything more hypocritical."
BY LILY FORD
Sebastian Stan has branded former U.S. president Donald Trump a hypocrite who has attempted to “censor” his new movie, The Apprentice.
Tumblr media
The Marvel actor spoke at the BFI London Film Festival premiere of Ali Abbasi’s movie about Trump’s rise to power in 1970s and ’80s New York — in which he stars as the real estate mogul-turned-Republican politician — with the teachings of mentor Roy Cohn (played by Jeremy Strong) guiding him on his ascension.
The cast and crew, including Stan, Strong, Abbasi and screenwriter Gabriel Sherman, appeared on the red carpet at the BFI’s Royal Festival Hall in the U.K. capital.
When asked whether this film debuting so close to the U.S. election could sway voters, Stan told The Hollywood Reporter: “I don’t know, but what I do hope is that people, regardless of their opinion, are curious enough to try to dig deeper. Because I think we’re living in a world where it’s so easy to be handed an opinion everywhere you turn. And I know a lot of people love social media, and that’s where they go for information and for things. You’re being told what to think. You’re being told what to do.”
But, the Marvel star continued, “If you have any inkling of interest, go and really ask yourself: ‘Who is this man? Do you really know? Do you really trust this person to lead a country?’ He’s been trying to censor this movie, and at the same time, he claims that he acknowledges free speech … I can’t think of anything more hypocritical. So at the end of the day, it’s about him as a character. Forget the politics and just go in there and use your instinct and ask yourself: Do you trust this man? That’s what the movie is about.”
The feature film opened in roughly 1,700 theaters across the U.S. last weekend after its debut in Cannes and pulled in an anemic $1.6 million in its first weekend. Trump lashed out against the film after the numbers came in.
“A FAKE and CLASSLESS Movie written about me, called, The Apprentice (Do they even have the right to use that name without approval?), will hopefully “bomb.” It’s a cheap, defamatory and politically disgusting hatchet job, put out right before the 2024 Presidential Election, to try and hurt the Greatest Political Movement in the History of our Country,” Trump wrote in a post on Truth Social.
Sherman told THR: “It’s not surprising [that Trump lashed out]… You’ve seen the film, the first lesson that Roy Cohn teaches him is: attack, attack, attack. So Trump hasn’t seen the movie, but he’s clearly following the rules that are in the movie.”
Sherman also said part of the inspiration for this film was to show Trump as carrying on Cohn’s legacy, as sources who worked on the 2016 Trump campaign told him the businessman was just “using Roy’s lessons.”
The Apprentice received rave reviews and an 8-minute standing ovation after its Cannes Film Festival premiere in May.
39 notes · View notes
vague-humanoid · 1 year ago
Text
Iraqi-American beauty mogul Huda Kattan, 40, has said she has received threats for sharing her pro-Palestinian stance online. Now in a video she uploaded to TikTok on Sunday, she said she is looking for truth and justice.
"We have to remember that we can't be afraid to lose anything, we have to trust the process and we have to trust that if we lose something, something else will come to us the right way because we are doing good work, we have to believe that, I believe that wholeheartedly," she said in the clip.
146 notes · View notes
malikat24601 · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Errrbody out there with their cool title art and brilliant ideas for the BB... and then there's me <insert hehehe raccoon gif here> Presenting Team 043 with @ghostdeb bringing you: Glory Days A Steddie Alpha/Baseball/Omega fic for the Steddie Big Bang 24! Excerpt: The sun was high in the sky, blindingly bright, and Eddie shielded his eyes as he wandered through the stands, looking for his seat. Nancy’s expectations of him rang loud and clear in the excellent spot she had reserved for him, field level near the dugout, overlooking home plate. Money wasted, he thought saltily to himself, since he wouldn’t be able to see anything past the fucking glare. 
There was a gift bag waiting for him, a welcome package from the team — a bottle of water, a box of honest-to-god Cracker Jack, a little baseball bat keychain with Harrington’s jersey number on it, and a cap with the team logo embroidered across the center in bright reds and golds — the Indiana Mindflayers. Eddie pouted to himself, hemmed and hawed until finally, with a loud groan, he pulled the cap on over his frizzy curls and… damn. Even he had to admit that it brought instant relief to his eyes, shading them and bringing the field into perfect clarity. He sniffed, the smell of the turf bright and green in his nose. I’ll have to start doubling up on the Claritin, he thought, determined not to enjoy it one bit. 
Eddie pulled out his notepad and shuffled through his notes. Steve Harrington was the second baseman; smart, fast, with good reflexes and running speed. By all accounts, he was the favorite to break the base-stealing record last set in 1982, garnering respect for the up-and-coming new team. He was a powerful hitter, an even better baseman, a fan favorite, and, as far as Eddie could tell, a squeaky-clean, all-American golden boy. 
And while Eddie had done the requisite reading on the sport, more of his time had been spent delving into the lore that had built up around the man. The only son of a notorious business mogul, Steve Harrington had led a charmed life. Trust fund baby, sports phenom, the pinnacle of what a good son and alpha should be — right up until he had defied expectations and joined an unknown, fledgling team and been cut off by his family. 
Lucky for him, Steve was handsome, charming, and known almost as well for his prowess off the field as he was on it. He was never seen with the same woman more than twice, never tied down, never mated. Rumors swirled that he had almost been married once, but had his heart broken by some mysterious figure, the identity of whom he protected at all costs. Other than that, it would appear that all there was to know about Steve Harrington was how he played that day and who the new celebrity on his arm was that week. How boring, Eddie couldn’t think of anything worse.
Still, he was a reporter, and there was a lot of buzz around the guy. If there was a story there, he would find it, and then he would go back to Indy and beg on hands and knees for his old job back.
Eddie sat through the first half of the inning before the Mindflayers were up to bat. He waited with as much enthusiasm as he could muster to get his eyes on the man himself. Finally, the familiar sound of Andre 3000 started up, Harrington’s song of choice to play him in, as he jogged out onto the batting mound. 
Don’t want to meet your daddy, just want you in my caddy Don’t want to meet your momma, just want to make you come-a
Eddie rolled his eyes. A little on the nose, he thought, we get it, you’re a playboy who knots ‘em and walks ‘em. And I heard you were actually smooth…
Steve Harrington came up to bat with the bases loaded. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone to look impressive after the lackluster performance of Tommy Hagan before him, but Steve sauntered out to home plate swinging his bat with the kind of easy confidence that made you just know he was about to do something special. His very first swing connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing deep into the stands.
Steve tossed his bat and ran, a home run. The crowd roared, jumping to their feet; the energy was infectious, and look, Eddie had eyes, he wasn’t immune to those tight little pants, or the sight of dirt on his knees as Steve pulled himself up with a bright, crooked grin and a little wave. The man was hot, he could admit it.
A faint scent of something wafted up from the field, spicy sweet and undeniable, calling to him so strongly that Eddie felt lightheaded. But almost as soon as he had locked onto it, it was gone; the wind changed and with it came the smell of incoming rain. He sank back in his seat, a little worse for wear, looking dubiously up at the sky and the gray clouds rolling in. A shiver ran through him and Eddie was forced to buy a hoodie to go with his new cap as light sprinkles fell over the stadium. He charged that shit on the company card.
The game played on, dauntless of the rain, and Eddie was cold, wet, way too sober, and bored. He tried to get into it, but catching the Cracker Jack he was tossing into the air with his mouth was just so much more interesting. 
After an eternity, finally they were in the last inning, and just as he was silently thanking the gods of sportsball that he’d soon be released from his purgatory, a palpable energy began to grow all around him. People were sitting up, watching a little closer. Eddie sat up, too, unceremoniously dropping the Cracker Jack to the ground.
The field was still wet from the earlier rain, grass glistening under the lights that had come up as the sun went down. It was the bottom of the 9th, the Mindflayers were down by one, and Steve was up to bat again. 
The first pitch was thrown wildly out of the strike zone, a ball. Steve let slip a flash of annoyance, which made Eddie smile to himself. Careful, big boy, that halo is slipping. On his second swing, he hit a double and made it to second base.
Then, before the next batter for the Mindflayers could take his place, the opposing team made a switch, bringing Jason Carver onto the field, their notoriously lethal left-handed pitcher. Steve seemed keenly interested in the goings on, so much so that Eddie found himself watching him more so than the player at bat. 
“Only one out left,” muttered the man sitting behind Eddie, so he wrote it down in his notepad. He could look up the exact rules of the game again later, after he had dried off, warmed up, and eaten something other than stale, too-sweet popcorn.
Lucas Sinclair stepped up to the plate, and while he and Carver sized each other up, Steve took the opportunity to run, racing to steal third base. The crowd cheered and Carver cursed, shouting something and… did Steve wink at him? Carver cursed again, but it didn’t matter, Steve was already safe. Sinclair was laughing; if he could get a good play, Steve would have a chance to run for home, tying the game. Carver spit and turned back to the plate, winding up. 
Sinclair was ready, but Carver’s signature fastball got past him. Eddie’s eyes were still on Harrington, who looked tense and twitchy as he and Sinclair made eye contact across the diamond. Carver smirked; another deadly pitch, another strike. Behind Carver’s shoulder, Steve had crouched low, watching things play out intently. The final swing connected, ball sent flying deep into the outfield and Steve ran. The crowd was on their feet, screaming as Steve slid home, his hat coming off and hair flying. He’d tied the game, standing up with a grin, clay caked down the front of his uniform as he shouted at Sinclair to run. The opposing team’s outfield threw the ball, but it went wide, missing their baseman. Sinclair kept running, past third, and when he touched home, he leapt onto Steve, the two of them laughing and shouting, because they’d done it. The Mindflayers had won by a single point in the final inning of the game.
Eddie found himself standing, too, his hands in the air and his jaw on the floor. He was absolutely helpless to the energy of the crowd. The team poured out onto the field, hoisting Steve and Lucas up onto their shoulders, and Steve threw his head back and laughed. Eddie laughed with him, couldn’t help it, overwhelmed by the magic of the moment. Somewhere on the breeze, he caught the smallest taste of that scent again, hot baked bread and spices, warmth and comfort, and then it was gone. When he looked back out to the field, Steve had disappeared into the dugout. That was Eddie’s cue to make his way down.
He wedged himself into the throng of reporters at the press conference, all trying to get the attention of Steve Harrington, who was clearly preoccupied with teasing his coach, renowned humorless hardass Jim Hopper, while managing to answer a slew of questions seemingly on autopilot without looking up once. “It’s all about teamwork, no one player wins the game,” rolled off his tongue, and then, “everything I learned, I learned from this man here,” as Hopper snorted gruffly. Eddie pushed through to the front and raised his voice. 
“That was a pretty neat trick you pulled there, but couldn’t you have done it sooner in the game so we could have had a bit more action in the middle bit? Or do they just trot you out at the very end to make it seem more interesting?”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the small space, save for a few awkward coughs as Harrington turned to stare directly at Eddie, his dark eyes narrowing. 
“Never seen this scrawny little guy before,” he quipped, leaning back lazily as though Eddie had bored him. “And who are you?” 
“Eddie Munson, with The P—”
“The Pace. I know you. You’re Wheeler’s new boy. Of course you are.” Steve said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth and Eddie gritted his teeth.
“If you could just answer the ques—”
“The reason, Mr. Munson,” Steve interrupted him again, “is that there’s more to the game than just hitting balls and running. Stealing bases requires thought, and it requires the right set of circumstances to pull it off. As soon as I realized they were bringing Carver out onto the field, I knew that I’d have a chance to take third, because as a left-handed pitcher, he’d have his back to me. It’s called game strategy. You may think I’m just a dumb jock, but I do actually have a brain. Next question.”
Eddie was dismissed, clearly. He frowned, staring down at his notepad. Strategy? You didn’t get to be the scariest dungeon master in Indy without knowing game strategy. Eddie twitched with annoyance.
He sulked through the rest of the questions, saying nothing, before making his way down to the locker rooms with the select few VIP reporters allowed in for the meet-n-greet. Eddie milled about, feeling every bit as uncomfortable as he had in high school gym, sweaty ball players shoving past him with towels thrown over their shoulders. Someone knocked into him from behind, and Eddie jumped aside, immediately apologizing.
It was Harrington, of course it was. Up close, Eddie could see that his brown eyes were more a warm hazel flecked with gold, downturned and sleepy-looking, but beautifully expressive. His lips were bowed and pink, far lovelier than a testosterone-ridden alpha male should possess, and cheeks kissed with tiny moles. He froze in place, apology dropping off, entirely unprepared for the reality of Steve. 
The man smirked at him, clearly amused. Steve reached forward and pinched the fabric of Eddie’s Mindflayers hoodie, rubbing it between his fingers. Then he ran his thumb along the bill of Eddie’s cap, almost teasingly. “Love the ‘fit,” he purred, in a wry, gravelly voice, and Eddie shivered. 
Steve was standing so close, sneering down at the gaping idiot that Eddie had become, and for a second he thought he caught that scent again, rising dough, nutmeg. His attention snapped elsewhere as he subconsciously lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. An omega was near, their scent curious and seeking, interested, sending a pulse of want all through him. Steve’s eyes shuttered off, and he looked uncomfortable, taking a step back and rubbing at his neck. Then, with an awkward smile that held none of the fire it possessed earlier, Steve whispered, “see ya around, Munson,” as he turned tail towards the showers, leaving Eddie staring after him. 
52 notes · View notes
bunnyrafe · 18 days ago
Note
nerd rafe who is deceivingly quiet and smiley. deceivingly...
no but exactly. nerd!rafe is how rafe would be if he wasn’t a complete fuck up in s1 and 2. calm, cool and collected but of course sinister because he was born that way and ward raised him to be a psycho... nerd!rafe is who rafe would be if ward could have trusted him from the jump, and now that ward is actually gone he’s immediately the new mogul on the island and not trying to play catch-up on all of his affairs…
he’s a bit of a loner— doesn’t trust any of the girls on the island, kook ladies specifically because in his eyes they just want to climb up the social ladder. but then bunny arrives and doesn’t give a fuck about the hierarchy in the lease and he knows he has to have her, has to make her fall for all of his tricks.
tldr; HE’S A MONSTER.
27 notes · View notes
justinspoliticalcorner · 15 days ago
Text
Lauren Aratani at The Guardian:
Rupert Murdoch’s three adult children will retain control over their father’s media empire upon his death, a Nevada court has ruled after Murdoch launched a campaign to wrest away their power and give it all to his oldest son. The New York Times reported on Murdoch’s loss, citing a sealed court decision that was filed on Saturday. The family battle took place outside of the public’s eye, despite attempts from the media to gain access to the trial. Murdoch took three of his adult children, James, Elisabeth and Prudence, to court as he tried to completely remove their voting power over the trust Murdoch set up. The current trust structure gives all four adult children equal voting power over Murdoch’s empire, which includes Fox News and News Corp, but Murdoch wanted to give Lachlan, his oldest son and most likeminded child, complete control over the media companies. The change would have only impacted the voting power of the siblings, not their financial inheritance.
After reviewing the case, the Nevada commissioner Edmund Gorman concluded that Rupert and Lachlan Murdoch had acted in “bad faith” in their attempts to change the terms of an irrevocable trust that divides control of the company between Murdoch’s four oldest children. In a statement, James, Elisabeth and Prudence told the Times: “We welcome Commissioner Gorman’s decision and hope that we can move beyond this litigation to focus on strengthening and rebuilding relationships among all family members.”
The 96-page opinion lambasts the media mogul, according to the Times, accusing him of organizing a “carefully crafted charade” to “permanently cement Lachlan Murdoch’s executive roles” inside the empire “regardless of the impacts such control would have over the companies or the beneficiaries” of the family trust.
[...] Murdoch, 93, is more politically aligned with Lachlan, his heir apparent. James, Elisabeth and Prudence are regarded as less conservative and James, in particular, has publicly criticized climate denialism in the media and accused US media of “propagating lies” that unleashed “insidious and uncontrollable forces” after the January 6 insurrection. James resigned from his role as a senior executive at News Corp in 2020. That same year, he and his wife donated $600,000 to Joe Biden’s presidential campaign. Meanwhile, Lachlan, who took over as chair of News Corp in 2023, has privately voiced political opinions similar to his father and has attached himself to the growth in ratings and sales the media empire has seen since Trump’s rise in 2015, according to multiple reports.
Right-wing media titan Rupert Murdoch lost his bid to control the line of succession to his media empire when he passes away, as his three adult children-- James, Elisabeth, and Prudence-- all of whom are far less simpatico with the right-wing politics of Rupert and Lachlan, will retain voting control of it.
Rupert wanted to completely hand voting rights control to his oldest and most like-minded child Lachlan.
26 notes · View notes
jjmaybankswh0re · 30 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 ~ 𝐎𝐁𝐗 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂
Blurb ~ Kalani "Lani" Alora is a 16-year-old Kook born into wealth and expectations, but she's nothing like her perfect family. While her parents push her to fit into their polished world, Lani feels suffocated by the luxury and pressure. Her heart belongs with the Pogues, the real ones who know what it means to survive without trust funds. In a world of opulence and privilege, Lani is ready to break free, even if it means defying her family—and risking everything she’s ever known. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise? Not for everyone. ~
Character description: Kalani "Lani" Alora is a fiery 16-year-old with long brunette hair that falls in waves, framing her sun-kissed face. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief, while freckles dust her tan skin, a reminder of the time spent under the sun. With a button nose and plump lips, her features carry a natural, effortless beauty that contrasts with the polished world she’s expected to fit into. She’s bold, rebellious, and unapologetically herself—someone who doesn’t shy away from breaking the rules or challenging the expectations placed on her.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reckless behaviour, mature themes, emotional strain.
Master list
PART 1:
Word count: 11,165
Tumblr media
They say the Outer Banks is paradise on Earth. Sure, maybe if you’re a tourist sipping Mai Tais on the beach or some Kook lounging in your second home, pretending life’s just one big country club. But for me, the so-called “paradise” feels like a gilded cage, all shiny on the outside but suffocating once you’re stuck inside. My name’s Kalani Mae Alora, but everyone calls me Lani. I’m 16, wild, reckless, and everything my family wishes I wasn’t.
I’m a Kook by birth. Figure 8 born and bred, raised in a mansion bigger than most people’s dreams, with parents who have more money than love to give. My dad, Douglas Ford Alora, is a big-shot real estate mogul. My mom, Amara Rose Alora, is the state’s top lawyer—because of course she is. And then there’s my older brother, Riley. The golden boy. The pride and joy. He’s everything they want: polished, preppy, and a grade-A asshole. The kind of guy who thrives in the Kook world, where your worth is measured by your wealth and your yacht size.
And then there’s me—the family disappointment. The rebel. The one who refuses to fit into their picture-perfect world. They want me to be a polished pearl, but I’m more like a jagged seashell—rough, untamed, real.
The truth is, I’m not cut out for their world. I don’t belong at their stuffy country club parties or in their suffocating circle of self-congratulatory egos. Honestly, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon than spend one more minute with the Kooks. They’re all the same—entitled, fake, and so damn boring.
My heart? It belongs on the Cut, with the Pogues. My friends. My real family. The ones who know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, who don’t have trust funds to fall back on but have loyalty in spades. We’re the scrappy, sunburned kids from the south side of the island, where people work their asses off fishing, chartering boats, and doing whatever it takes to survive. They don’t judge me for being a little reckless or having tattoos hidden under my hoodie. They get me. Even Kie, who’s technically a Kook like me, would rather be with us than in the shallow waters of her old world.
But my parents don’t get it. They don’t get me. To them, I’m just a problem to be fixed. I skip school because sitting in a classroom feels like being locked in a cage when there’s an entire world waiting outside. I party because life’s too short to sit still. I drink and smoke and stay out for days because it feels like the only way to breathe.
My mom and dad don’t see the good grades I somehow manage to pull off, or the way my friends count on me when things go south. No, they only see the tattoos I’ve hidden from them (for now), the nights I don’t come home, and the way I refuse to bow to their rules. They threaten me all the time—boarding school, getting kicked out, even one of those wilderness camps for “troubled teens.” But their threats are empty, just like their understanding of who I am.
Coming home always ends the same way: screaming matches that leave the walls trembling and me storming back out, slamming the door behind me. And you know what? I’d rather be anywhere but here. On the beach. In the water. With my friends. Living.
It’s a cycle. A vicious, messy, exhausting cycle. And yet, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Because out there, with the Pogues, I’m free. Out there, I’m not Kalani Alora, the letdown daughter of the island’s most powerful family. I’m just Lani. Wild, reckless, and alive.
Tonight is the night of the annual Kook party, Midsummers. AKA the one thing I dread most. I stand in the kitchen, my arms crossed, fuming, while my mom stares me down from across the island.
"Kalani, I’m not telling you again. You are going. End of story," she says, her voice dripping with that tone that means she’s done arguing. The same tone she always uses when she’s acting like she’s the one who knows what’s best for me.
I roll my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure they might fall out. "Mom, people less than 3 miles from here still don’t have power, no running water, nothing. And we're going to Midsummers? Do you not see how tone-deaf that is?" I can’t believe this is even a conversation. Hurricane Agatha tore through the island last week, and Figure 8, of course, had its water fixed within hours, not like the Cut where they’ve been waiting for days. The Kooks are all living in luxury, while the Pogues are stuck in a wreck. And all mom cares about is this stupid party.
She narrows her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Seriously, Kali? I suggest you put on a party face if you want to live." Oh, great. "The dress I picked out for you is upstairs, go shower."
I let out a deep sigh, muttering under my breath as I storm off toward my room. This night is going to suck.
When I walk in, the dress is laid out on my bed like it’s some sort of treasure. It’s pale golden yellow, the fabric shiny but not too in-your-face. The top has a ruched sweetheart neckline—whatever, nothing special. The waist is tight, and then the skirt flows down to the floor with a slit on one side, which is probably the only thing that even slightly grabs my attention. It’s nice enough, but honestly, it’s just another dress to me. A dress I’ll wear because I have no choice, and I'll pretend it’s okay when it’s not.
It’s pretty though. Like, really pretty. But there’s no way I’ll admit that to my mom. At the foot of the bed, there are a pair of white heels—square-toe with an ankle strap. I pick them up, inspecting them like they're somehow supposed to impress me, then set them back down. But then my eyes catch the flower crown resting next to the dress. It’s made of tiny white and yellow flowers, tied together on a brown vine, with a soft white ribbon in the back. It’s cute, I guess. Kind of summery and soft, but definitely not my style. I was expecting something much more “Kook-y,” but this isn’t terrible. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice.
I don’t even know why I’m surprised. My mom is obsessed with making me into some perfect little Kook, and I don’t fit in. I just don’t.
I head into my bathroom, which, let’s face it, is way too fancy for someone like me. It’s huge. So huge, I swear they built it just to make sure I’d never want to leave. It’s "coastal," of course, but not the cool, laid-back vibe I’m used to. No, this is more like a showroom, with white wood, light blues, and grays plastered everywhere like they want to remind me that we have money. The shower’s big enough to fit a small army. Don’t even get me started on the freestanding tub by the window. Like, who actually needs this much space to get ready in the morning? It’s a joke.
I strip off my clothes, looking at myself in the mirror. Staring at the tattoos that my parents can’t stand, but I love. I’ve got a few of them—one on my left wrist, my elbow, under my boob, my hip. I’ve even got one behind my ear and on my lower back. They’re all small, except for the one on my elbow, the one with the words my granny used to say all the time: “Live with fire.” I got it in honour of her last year. She’s gone now, and this tattoo is the only reminder I have of her.
At 16, I’m pretty sure the last thing my parents expected was for me to have 6 tattoos. They only know about the one for granny. They freaked out at first, but after a while, they gave up trying to control me. I know they haven’t seen the others, and I’m not in a rush to show them either. But that'll be a fight for later.
I’ve spent the last week on the HMS Pogue—surfing, chilling with my friends, hanging out at the beach. The tan from my bikini’s a perfect match for the dress I’m supposed to wear tonight.
The warm water in the shower is a welcome relief as I step in, letting it soak through my hair. The overpriced shampoo my mom insists I use smells like coconut and vanilla. It fills the bathroom with this sweet, sickly scent as I work it into my scalp. I rinse it out, then do it again, scrubbing harder this time, just wanting to wash away everything that’s bothering me about tonight.
I just wish I didn’t have to play their game.
Once the shampoo was fully rinsed out of my hair, I grabbed the conditioner. It's that same overpriced stuff my mom buys, and it still smells like coconut and vanilla—sickly sweet and way too luxurious for someone like me. I rake it through the middle and ends of my hair, working it into each strand, making sure every last one gets coated. I don't want any frizzy, tangled mess when I step out of this shower. My hair’s long and thick, so I clip it up with a claw clip, securing it out of the way while I let the conditioner soak in, doing whatever magic it's supposed to do.
I stand under the hot water, letting it cascade down, feeling the weight of it on my shoulders, drowning out everything for a minute. It’s easy to get lost in this. To just be here, in this bathroom that feels like it belongs to someone else.
Next, I move on to my body. I grab the Tree Hut shea sugar scrub. It's the plain one, nothing special, but it smells warm, comforting, like something I could wrap myself in. I scrub it all over my skin, from my shoulders down to my toes. My skin feels soft and smooth, and the scent is almost like a second layer of me, like a little bit of peace before the chaos of tonight. I rinse it off, feeling the roughness of the sugar scrub melt away with the water.
Then comes shaving—legs, my downstairs area, and my armpits. It’s something I do on autopilot, but I can’t help but think about the things I’d rather be doing. The water’s starting to cool a little, but I don’t care. The routine is almost soothing, even though my mind’s a thousand miles away.
Once I’m done with that, I grab the silicone body scrubber, a little worn but still good for scrubbing away the day. I use my body wash—the one that smells like fresh linen, like the kind of clean that’s almost too perfect. It’s like running through freshly washed sheets on a hot summer day. That clean, crisp, airy scent fills the shower as I lather myself up, and for just a moment, everything feels quiet. Not perfect, but quiet. Something I can hold onto, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
I stand there, letting the warmth of the water relax my muscles, but I know the storm’s waiting for me once I step out. The party. The dress. The Kooks. It’s all just another part of this world I’m stuck in.
Once I was done with my body, I carefully unclipped my hair from the claw clip, letting it fall around my shoulders, feeling the conditioner slowly slip from the strands as I washed it out. The water running through it felt like silk, the smoothness of my hair almost surprising me after the mess I had to deal with earlier. I stood there, running my fingers through it, making sure every bit of the thick conditioner was gone, until my hair felt soft and weightless, almost like it was floating. I ran my hands over the ends, making sure nothing was left behind, and it felt so good to have my hair feel that smooth again, free from all the tangles and the heat of the day.
After a few more moments under the water, I made sure I was completely rinsed off—no soap residue, no conditioner, nothing left behind but fresh, clean skin. I turned off the shower, stepping out into the steamy bathroom. The cold air hit me, making me shiver slightly, but the big white fluffy towel I grabbed was comforting as I wrapped it around my body, hugging myself into the softness. I reached for another towel to wrap my hair in, twisting it tightly to soak up the water.
I walked over to the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. My reflection was a mix of wet hair, slightly flushed skin, and the remnants of the tiredness that was starting to show on my face. I grabbed my toothbrush, squeezing a bit of toothpaste onto it, the minty scent hitting my nose as I started to brush. I scrubbed my teeth in slow circles, letting the minty taste fill my mouth as I stared at myself in the mirror. My thoughts wandered, flickering between tonight’s party and the mess of everything that came with it.
Once I finished brushing, I set the toothbrush down and moved on to my skincare. I grabbed the exfoliator first, the gentle beads scraping at the dead skin on my face. I massaged it in small circles, focusing on my cheeks and jawline, feeling the grit of it, the way it sloughed off all the build-up. It always felt good, almost like I was erasing the day from my skin. After rinsing it off, I grabbed the facial wash, the coolness of the gel soothing my skin. I lathered it up, pressing it into my face and working it into a light foam, careful around my eyes. It smelled fresh and clean—nothing overwhelming, just pure. I rinsed that off too, splashing my face with water until it felt like it was completely cleansed, refreshed.
As I wiped my face with a towel, I felt the tension in my shoulders slowly start to release. But I knew it wouldn’t last. The second I walked out of this bathroom, the whole night was going to hit me again. The dress, the heels, the Kooks. I wasn’t ready for any of it. But for now, I was clean, and that felt like a tiny victory in itself.
I walked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, my bare feet sinking into the plush rug as I headed for my vanity. The towel around my body was pulled snug, a comforting layer of warmth against the cool air from the AC. I pulled the towel off my head, letting my damp brunette hair fall in messy waves over my shoulders, droplets of water soaking into the towel still wrapped around me.
Reaching for my phone, I connected it to my Bluetooth speaker and shuffled my "Getting Ready" playlist. The opening notes of "Chanel" by Frank Ocean filled the room, the smooth melody wrapping around me as I started the process of transforming myself for the night. I set my phone down and grabbed my blow dryer, sectioning my hair and working through it methodically. The warm air flowed through the strands, turning them from wet to soft and fluffy. I ran my fingers through each section as I worked, making sure nothing was left damp.
As much as I hated the idea of Midsummers, there was something satisfying about this part—the routine of getting ready, the self-care, the rare moments of just focusing on myself. For a little while, I could forget the chaos of the world outside and pretend that tonight wouldn’t feel as fake as every other Kook event.
Once my hair was completely dry, I set down the dryer and took a moment to assess it in the mirror. My natural brunette colour had these little golden streaks from all the time I’d spent in the sun, and I knew they’d look even better once I added some waves. I decided to go with something a little softer tonight—nothing too overdone because, honestly, I just wanted to feel like myself. I started by curling my hair into loose waves, letting the brunette strands fall in soft, effortless cascades down my back. It’s that kind of messy-but-pretty look, like I spent hours on it when I really didn’t.
For the top, I pulled back a section of hair into a half-up, half-down style, securing it with a clear elastic so it looked neat but still natural. To add a little something extra, I braided a small strand of hair on one side and tucked it into the pulled-back section. It’s subtle but gives it just the right amount of detail.
The rest of my hair flows freely, the curls catching the light every time I move. It’s simple but sweet, and it feels like me—a little undone but still put together enough to face the ridiculousness that is tonight.
I walked over to my bed where the dress was still laid out, golden and glowing softly in the warm light of my room. I carefully picked it up, the fabric slipping through my fingers like water. Stepping into it, I pulled it up and adjusted the straps on my shoulders before reaching for the zipper at the back. It slid up easily, the dress fitting perfectly, hugging my waist and flaring out gracefully down to the floor.
The slit on the side was higher than I expected, revealing a hint of my tan leg as I moved, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I turned to look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the sweetheart neckline so it sat just right. The pale-yellow colour looked good against my sun-kissed skin, even though I’d never tell my mom she was right about that.
I tied the flower crown into my hair, the soft white and yellow blooms sitting perfectly on top of my styled waves. Taking a step back, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked... nice. Not like the Kook princess my mom probably wanted me to be, but not like I’d just rolled off the HMS Pogue either. It was a weird mix of both worlds, and maybe that’s exactly where I was meant to be.
I fastened the flower crown into my hair with a few small bobby pins, carefully adjusting it until it sat just right. The tiny white and yellow flowers felt soft and delicate against my curls, like the one part of tonight’s outfit that was actually me. I took a step back to look in the mirror, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It was pretty, I had to admit, but that didn’t make the whole Midsummers thing any less of a circus.
With a sigh, I sat back down at my vanity, staring at my makeup bag like it might magically do the work for me. I don’t wear full-coverage makeup—ever. Foundation feels like a mask, like one more thing to hide behind in this world where everyone already pretends to be something they’re not. Tonight wasn’t going to change that.
I started with concealer, dotting it lightly under my eyes, just enough to brighten things up and erase the shadows of too many sleepless nights spent thinking about everything I can’t control. My beauty blender bounced softly against my skin, blending the concealer until it melted into nothing. No one needs to know I’ve barely been sleeping; that’s between me and my reflection.
Next was blush—a cream one that I dabbed onto the apples of my cheeks. It was this warm, pinky-orange shade, almost like the colors of a sunset. I blended it out until it looked natural, just a soft flush that played off the tan I’d earned from a week spent on the HMS Pogue, under the sun with my real family. The blush wasn’t just makeup; it was a reminder of who I was, of where I belonged.
I picked up my eyelash curler and paused for a second, staring at it in my hand. It’s funny how something so small can make such a difference, but it does. I carefully curled my lashes, making sure not to pinch my skin. A few quick swipes of mascara later, and my lashes were dark and lifted, but not overdone. I hate when makeup feels heavy, like it’s weighing you down. I wanted to feel free tonight, even if everything else about Midsummers felt suffocating.
Finally, I finished with a pink lip gloss. It was glossy and soft, not too bright, not too bold—just enough to make my lips look like they’d caught the last rays of the golden hour. I pressed my lips together, catching the faint scent of vanilla as I did. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
I leaned back in my chair, studying my reflection in the mirror. My makeup was simple, natural—exactly how I like it. Light enough that I still felt like me but polished enough to survive the sharp gazes and fake smiles of the Kooks. If I had to play this role tonight, at least I’d do it on my own terms.
And that’s the thing: this whole routine, this whole night, it’s a balancing act. A way of making my mom and dad happy without completely losing myself in the process. It’s exhausting, but I can fake it for one night. After all, I’m good at pretending when I have to be.
I stood up from my vanity chair, letting my bare feet sink into the soft carpet as I walked over to the shelf where my perfumes were lined up, a little too perfectly. Each bottle had its own memory, its own story—birthday surprises, Christmas mornings, or those rare moments when someone got me exactly what I liked without me having to say it. My fingers hovered over the collection before landing on the one I always reach for: Good Girl Blush Elixir by Carolina Herrera.
This perfume is my signature, the one I can’t live without. It smells like everything I want to be—soft but bold, with a mix of rose, vanilla, and patchouli that feels feminine but not too sweet. It’s the kind of scent that lingers, the kind that turns heads. I uncapped it, giving the nozzle a little test spray into the air before aiming it at all the right spots: my wrists, the front and back of my neck, behind my ears. I even gave myself a couple of extra sprays, letting the mist settle onto my skin like a finishing touch. It was intoxicating, warm, and comforting all at once.
Once I was done, I grabbed the white purse sitting on the edge of my bed. It was simple, but it worked—a little clutch just big enough to hold the essentials. I tossed in the bottle of perfume, some deodorant (because these things always drag on), gum, my phone, and my lip gloss. I zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder, pausing for a moment to take it all in.
I walked over to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of my room, its frame carved with delicate floral details that matched the rest of my overly curated, "perfect" Kook bedroom. I looked at my reflection, taking in the golden dress that clung to me in all the right places, the flower crown perched like a soft rebellion against the polish of the whole look, and the subtle glow of my makeup.
For a second, I almost didn’t recognize myself. Not because I looked so different, but because I looked like I belonged—like I could fit into this world of Midsummers and champagne toasts and whispered gossip. But deep down, I knew better. I wasn’t one of them. This was a costume, a role I had to play.
I smoothed the skirt of my dress, took a deep breath, and tried to push down the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. "Alright, Kalani," I muttered to myself, my voice steady but low. "Let’s get this over with."
I stepped into the white heels that had been waiting at the foot of my bed, the straps cool against my skin as I fastened the tiny buckle around my ankle. They weren’t anything too fancy—square-toed with a simple design—but they did their job, adding just enough height to make me feel a little more elegant, even if I hated how much it screamed Kook princess.
I took a few steps in them, testing the waters. They were surprisingly comfortable, but still, they reminded me of all the reasons I hated these events. It’s like every detail—down to these stupid heels—was designed to show off, to shout, “Look at us! We’re perfect!” I wasn’t about to trip or wobble, though. If I had to play along, I’d do it on my own terms, confident and unbothered.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror again, I glanced down at my reflection. The heels gave the golden dress an extra edge, the slit in the skirt showing just enough leg to make it look effortless—like I hadn’t spent the last hour pulling myself together. The flower crown softened the look, a subtle reminder to myself of where my heart really was.
I shifted my weight, the faint sound of the heels clicking against the hardwood floor as I turned to grab my purse. They felt like armour in a way, a final piece to complete the picture my mom wanted so desperately to paint tonight. But as far as I was concerned, the moment this party was over, these heels were coming off, and I’d be back where I belonged: barefoot on the HMS Pogue, salt in my hair, with people who didn’t care if I looked polished or perfect.
“Kalani, come down! We’re taking a family photo!” My mom’s voice rang out from downstairs, sharp and insistent. I groaned, loud enough that she probably heard it, stealing one last glance in the mirror. The dress shimmered faintly under the soft light, and the flower crown sat perfectly in place. It was fine—whatever. Good enough.
Turning away, I walked out of my room and into the hallway. The heels clicked against the hardwood floor with every step, a sound that echoed louder than I wanted it to. It felt weird, almost unnatural, like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, clacking my way down this house that still didn’t feel like home.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I spotted her—my mom—standing at the bottom, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a line that said she was in no mood to argue tonight. Her eyes locked on me immediately, scanning me like a hawk. It wasn’t a look of admiration or even casual approval; it was inspection. Like she was checking for flaws, making sure her carefully curated daughter looked the part, up to her unspoken standards of perfection.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, gripping the banister as I descended. The closer I got, the more I could feel her gaze, like a spotlight I didn’t ask for. I hated this—hated how I felt like some kind of doll she could dress up and parade around to make herself look good. But I bit my tongue, let the heels carry me down each step until I was standing in front of her.
She gave a small, tight-lipped nod. “You look... nice,” she said, her voice clipped, like she couldn’t bear to admit that I might actually look good.
“Thanks,” I said, my tone flat, the sarcasm barely masked. I adjusted the strap of my purse, already counting down the hours until this whole ordeal would be over.
My mom was standing there, dressed to the nines in an elegant royal blue gown that hugged her figure perfectly, the kind of dress that screamed wealth and status. It shimmered slightly in the light, and as I got closer, I noticed the intricate beading and embroidery running along the fabric, small, delicate details that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined. She had on a matching set of jewellery—a diamond necklace that caught the light every time she moved, earrings to match, and, of course, her giant wedding ring that could blind someone if the sun hit it just right.
I stopped midway down the stairs, my eyes locking onto her accessories, and then it hit me. Jewellery. I completely forgot about jewellery. My face must’ve said it all because my mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, like she knew I was about to stall.
“Oh—uhm, hold on. I forgot to put on my jewellery,” I blurted, my voice slightly panicked as I spun on my heel and started heading back up the stairs. My heels clicked against the steps in a rush, the sound echoing through the massive hallway.
“Kalani,” my mom called after me, her tone sharp with a mix of annoyance and warning, but I didn’t stop.
“It’ll only take a second!” I called over my shoulder, practically sprinting back into my room. How could I forget something so obvious? I mean, sure, I wasn’t thrilled about this whole charade, but if I was going to be forced into the Kook spotlight, I might as well do it right. There’s no way my mom would let me live it down if I showed up looking “unfinished.”
I darted over to my jewellery box, a sleek, mirrored thing that sat on my dresser. I flung it open, the tiny compartments stacked with earrings, bracelets, and necklaces.
I grabbed the gold necklace with the small sun pendant, one of the few pieces of jewelry that actually felt personal. The sun pendant had a tiny white opal in the middle, catching the light in this soft, shimmery way. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, understated—exactly what I needed. I clasped it around my neck, letting the pendant rest perfectly against my collarbone.
Next were my earrings. I had three piercings in each ear, and I quickly popped in the gold hoops for the first two. The first hoop had a small dangling diamond that sparkled whenever it moved, and the second had tiny diamonds encrusted all the way around. For the third piercing, I put in simple diamond studs—small but bright, like little drops of light against my skin.
For my rings, I went with a mix of delicate gold bands. Nothing too overwhelming, just a few spread out across my fingers in that perfectly imperfect way—skipping some fingers and stacking others just enough to keep it interesting. They were simple and elegant, adding a little extra something to my look without feeling over the top.
Finally, I moved on to bracelets. On one wrist, I clasped a gold tennis bracelet—thin, sleek, and timeless. On the other, I layered two dainty gold bracelets. One had a tiny charm on it, barely noticeable, and the other was just a smooth, minimalist band. Together, they felt balanced, subtle, and, dare I say, classy.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting the necklace so the pendant sat perfectly in place. My jewelry wasn’t overdone, and it definitely wasn’t “Kook extravagant,” but it felt polished and put together. This was my version of ready.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my purse off the bed again and turned toward the door. My heels clicked softly as I made my way back out of my room, this time fully prepared to face my mom’s critical gaze and the chaos waiting downstairs.
I walked down the stairs, and as soon as I stepped off the last step, I was met with the familiar impatient expressions of my mom, dad, and Riley. They all looked like they were ready to pull their hair out waiting for me to get my act together. I felt that familiar pressure in my chest.
“Sorry,” I muttered, and honestly, I was. I never liked rushing, especially when I felt like I was being pushed into a version of myself that didn’t feel like me at all.
“Come on, Kalani, we need to get the family photo. The photographer’s waiting for us outside,” my dad said in that authoritative way he always had, ushering me down the stairs with a firm hand on my back.
My heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors as I made my way down, the sound a little too sharp and hollow for my liking. The click-clack followed me all the way through the grand hallway and out the door. The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside into our huge backyard, which stretched out toward the ocean. It was a view I’d never get used to, but it always felt like a reminder of how different I was from my family.
The backyard was decorated with hanging string lights that twinkled against the dark sky. The soft glow looked almost too perfect, too curated—like everything in this house. It was the kind of backyard where everything had a place, where even the air felt like it was designed for Instagram photos. The photographer stood nearby, ready to capture every perfect moment, and I could already feel the forced smiles taking over.
The photographer directed us into position, telling us where to stand, how to angle ourselves, and where to place our hands. The flashes of the camera went off in rapid succession, and I couldn’t help but feel like this whole thing was just a performance. The whole family photo, the posed smiles, the way they insisted on making everything look so… perfect.
My dad and brother were in suits—my dad in a dark, sleek black one that screamed "power," and Riley in a more relaxed, but still tailored, light gray one. It was hard not to feel like I was the odd one out in this perfect little picture they had created. My dress, my jewelry, my smile—none of it felt like me. And yet, here I was, standing perfectly still, forced into a moment I knew didn’t represent who I was or what I stood for.
The photographer snapped more photos. One of the whole family, then a few of just me and Riley, some with just my mom and dad. But in all of them, I knew one thing for sure—none of us were really here. Not really.
An hour later, we arrived at the Midsummer party, and I immediately felt the familiar weight of it all. The party was a spectacle of excess—a perfect embodiment of the Kooks’ obsession with showing off how much money they had. It was set on the sprawling waterfront grounds of the country club, where the place practically glittered under a canopy of fairy lights strung through towering oak trees. The lights were warm and inviting, almost magical, but all I could think about was how they reflected off the polished marble floors of the patio, making the place feel like a showroom, not a home.
Elegant tables were scattered across the lawn, their white linen cloths perfectly draped, with cascading floral centerpieces that practically screamed luxury. Servers, dressed in crisp black-and-white uniforms, glided between the guests like they were part of the décor, offering champagne and perfectly arranged hors d'oeuvres. The laughter was polite, the kind that was almost too rehearsed, and the soft clink of crystal glasses mixed with the live band playing in the background, their music flowing like the tide against the nearby docks.
I could already feel the weight of this night pressing down on me. As we walked in, I couldn’t help but notice the Cameron family near the entrance—just a second away from my family’s wealth and, I swear, their closest competition in this weird little game of “who’s richer and more glamorous.” Ward Cameron, Rose Cameron, and their kids, Wheezie, Sarah, and Rafe.
Wheezie was just 13, but she already had that look—the one that said she was going to be just like her older sister, Sarah. Sarah and I were the same age, but we were never on the same page. I used to get along with her, back when I thought being friends with her would help me fit in. But that was before the whole Kook/Pogue divide hit me like a ton of bricks.
The air between me and Sarah was thick with tension. Kie and Sarah used to be best friends—used to, being the key word. That’s when I thought I could be part of their world, too. But things fell apart, like everything with the Kooks always does. And now here I was, walking into another perfect little moment, watching them pretend everything was fine, knowing full well it never would be.
I looked over at Riley, who was already making his way toward Rafe Cameron with his usual “I’m one of you” swagger. I wished I could be that detached, that easygoing about this whole thing. But instead, I felt like I was slipping into a role I never wanted—like I was just another cog in their polished machine.
As we made our way deeper into the crowd, I tried to keep my distance, but it didn’t take long for the inevitable interactions to begin. Topper was the first to spot me, his signature smirk already plastered on his face as he leaned against a nearby pillar.
"Kalani," he said, the way he said my name made it sound almost like a joke. "Nice to see you actually made it." His eyes scanned me up and down, lingering just a little too long on the soft flow of my dress before settling on my face. He was always like that, like he could never fully decide if I was beneath him or if he should pretend I was someone he liked.
“Topper,” I said, forcing a smile, trying to keep my tone neutral. "What's up?" I wasn’t in the mood for his usual small talk, but he was the kind of guy who just had to fill the silence with something.
He chuckled, taking a sip from a glass in his hand—was it whiskey? I couldn't tell. But whatever it was, it was making him that much smugger. "I don’t know why you bother with these Kook parties," he said, taking another long drink. “You know you don’t belong here, right?”
My chest tightened, but I kept my posture straight, pretending it didn’t affect me. "And yet, here I am."
Topper raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by my lack of a reaction. "Hmm. I’ll give you that." Then, without another word, he walked off, probably to find someone else to annoy or charm.
I let out a deep breath and tried to move past the awkwardness, but of course, Kelce was there to fill the silence. He clapped me on the shoulder like we were best friends, even though we definitely weren’t. "Looking good, Kalani," he said, a little too enthusiastically.
"Thanks, Kelce," I muttered, trying to dodge his gaze, but he wasn’t done.
"You know, I bet you’re more fun when you’re not being all... Kook-y," he said with a grin, clearly trying to joke but coming off a little too eager.
I felt the blood rush to my face. Kelce was the type of guy who always thought he knew everything, especially when it came to people’s lives. And maybe I hadn’t been as good at hiding things as I liked to think. "I’m not really in the mood for your jokes tonight," I said, walking past him quickly. I could feel his eyes on my back as I moved away. He didn’t get it. They never did.
And then there was Riley, my older brother. He was talking to Rafe now, laughing at some joke I didn’t care enough to overhear. Rafe had always been a problem, but tonight it felt like he was more of a shadow than usual, lurking around the edges of everything. He was dangerous in the way that you could never be sure what side he was on or what game he was playing.
As I made my way toward the edge of the party, I couldn’t help but notice that the tables were littered with half-drunk glasses, abandoned champagne flutes, and half-empty cocktails. The temptation was unbearable. My throat felt tight as I scanned the crowd, looking for an easy target—someone who wouldn’t notice, someone who wouldn’t care.
I found it quickly—a half-drunk glass of something pink, a sweet little cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out. It was sitting alone on the edge of a table, the owner nowhere in sight. Without a second thought, I picked it up, took a quick sip. It tasted like sugar, something fruity with a sharp kick. I felt the warmth spread through me almost immediately, and I couldn’t help but sigh. It was like the world around me softened, the harsh edges of the night going blurry. For a second, I felt good, not so out of place, not so suffocated by everything I couldn’t stand.
I didn’t even think about where the glass had come from, who it belonged to, or how many people had touched it before me. I just took another sip, and then another. The feeling, the way the alcohol settled in my chest, made everything a little easier. I didn't care about the Kooks, about Topper, about anything. For once, I was just floating.
It was easy to get lost in the moment, to let the party's chaos carry me away. But just as quickly as the high hit, I realized how deep I was in it. I had to keep it together—keep it all together—because if anyone noticed, it could all fall apart. I didn’t want to be that person. But at the same time, I didn’t want to be the person I was supposed to be either.
I set the glass down, feeling the familiar sting of shame creeping up my neck. The night was just beginning, and I already knew I was going to need more to survive it.
I turned away from the drink station quickly, shaking off the buzz that was creeping in. I didn’t want to think about it too much. I wasn’t going to let myself slip—not here, not now. I knew how to play the game—keep my cool, stay in control. Even if it meant lying to everyone around me, including myself.
But as I walked across the lawn, I spotted Sarah Cameron by the drink station. She was laughing with a few of her friends, looking every bit the perfect Kook in her dress. She noticed me almost immediately, and for a moment, our eyes met across the space.
It wasn’t that I hated Sarah—honestly, we just didn’t click anymore. We’d been close once, back when everything felt simpler. When Kie and I hung out with her, before the weight of the world had shifted and split us apart. Now, it was like we were in two different worlds, drifting in and out of the same spaces, but never really connecting.
"Hey, Kalani," Sarah called out with a smile, her voice easy and warm. It wasn’t fake—just… distant.
"Hey," I replied, offering a tight smile of my own, but I could feel that strange distance between us. I wished we could go back to how things were before it all fell apart, but it wasn’t like I could pretend everything was fine. Not anymore.
Sarah’s eyes scanned me up and down, a flicker of something passing through her gaze. "You look really nice," she said, her tone genuine. "The dress suits you."
I felt the weight of her words, and for a second, I almost wanted to thank her. But something inside me held me back. She was being nice, but that old sense of betrayal—of everything we used to have slipping away—was still there, lingering between us.
"Thanks," I said quickly, brushing it off with a half-smile. "You look great too."
Sarah nodded, her smile softening, but she hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was a reminder of everything that had changed. The old closeness we’d shared was just… gone now.
"So, are you enjoying the party?" she asked, trying to make conversation, her tone still light.
"Yeah," I lied. "It’s fine."
She nodded again, glancing over at the crowd, then back at me. "I know things were weird between us for a while," she said, catching me off guard. "But it’s nice to see you again. I hope you’re doing okay."
I looked at her, really looked at her. She wasn’t trying to start something, or stir up drama. It was just... two people who had shared something once, but it had fizzled out. Her words felt sincere, and for a second, I almost wanted to say something back. To acknowledge it, maybe even apologize for how things had turned out. But I couldn’t. Not yet.
"Yeah," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the grass at my feet. "I’m good."
Before Sarah could say anything else, I turned, heading back toward the side of the yard, away from the crowd. I needed a moment to breathe. It felt like everyone was looking at me, judging me, even though I knew they weren’t. I couldn’t shake that feeling of being out of place, though.
As I walked, I spotted a table with a few half-drunk glasses of champagne sitting on it. Without thinking, I reached for one of the glasses and took a sip. The sharp tang of the alcohol hit my tongue, and I didn’t care that it wasn’t mine. The rush, the warmth spreading through my chest, made me forget for a moment that I was still stuck in this strange in-between world.
Riley must’ve seen me, because he was suddenly at my side, his hand on my arm, his face serious.
"Hey, what’s going on?" he asked, his voice low. "You okay?"
I just shrugged, trying to act like everything was fine, even though it wasn’t. "Yeah, I’m fine."
Riley looked at me for a moment longer, like he could see right through me, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just gave me a small, almost resigned nod, as if he knew what was really going on.
And for a second, I felt seen. But then, just like that, the moment passed, and the world kept spinning around me.
I didn’t want to be here. But here I was.
But something caught my eye almost immediately.
JJ.
I stopped in my tracks, squinting through the crowd. Was that... him?
He stood at the edge of the patio, fiddling nervously with the collar of his shirt, wearing a black suit and a bowtie that looked about as awkward on him as a fish out of water. I walked over, pushing my way through the crowd.
"JJ?" I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the noise.
His head whipped around, eyes wide with that familiar cocky grin that was more for show than anything.
"Kalani, what's up?" he said, his voice a little too loud and obviously trying to sound casual.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, giving him a once-over. "You look like a waiter, not like yourself."
He laughed, shrugging with that nonchalant ease I’d come to expect from him. "Yeah, well, I'm here to deliver something. John B needed to give Sarah a note. So, here I am—waiter JJ, at your service."
I raised an eyebrow. "A note for Sarah?"
JJ pulled out the crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to me, looking around the party like he was trying to make sure no one saw him. I opened it, and my eyes skimmed the scrawled words:
Meet me at bag drop - Vlad
I looked at JJ, confused. "Who’s Vlad?" I asked, my voice low.
JJ just shrugged again, his eyes darting across the room, clearly nervous. "John B wouldn’t tell me. But I’m telling you, Kalani, John B’s definitely mackin' on Sarah Cameron. No doubt about it."
I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. Mackin'? John B and Sarah?
"Seriously?" I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "You’re telling me John B is hooking up with Sarah Cameron?"
"Yup." JJ nodded, giving a grin like he was proud of the gossip he just dropped.
“Your serious?” I say, handing the note back to JJ.
“Dead serious.” He says with a nod, taking the note and putting it back in his pocket.
I look at JJ for a moment, unsure of how to respond. His face is all scrunched up in that mischievous way he gets when he’s trying to be sly, and I can’t help but smirk. Of course, JJ would be involved in something like this. "So you’re really doing this, huh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Pretending to be a waiter at the Kook’s fancy party just to get a note to Sarah?"
JJ shrugs, looking around like he’s making sure no one’s watching. “Hey, someone’s gotta do it, right? Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t exactly match the nervous energy swirling around his eyes. “Besides, John B owes me one. This is gonna be fun.”
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, fun. Just try not to get caught, okay?"
“Caught?” He scoffs. “Please, I’m practically invisible in this suit.” He adjusts his bowtie, puffing out his chest like he’s some kind of undercover agent. I just shake my head, already imagining the mess he’s going to cause.
Before I can say anything else, he’s already slipping into the crowd, blending in with the other Kooks, who are too busy with their champagne flutes and fake smiles to notice the trouble brewing. I turn away, the sound of the party rising up around me again.
I just want to be anywhere but here. But there’s no escape tonight. Not when my family insists on dragging me through their charade, pretending like everything’s perfect.
The next few minutes pass in a blur of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. I find myself wandering the edge of the yard, away from the crowds, just trying to catch my breath. That’s when I see it—a table set with half-empty glasses of champagne. Without thinking, I grab one, taking a long, deep sip. The alcohol burns down my throat, but for a second, it’s a relief. The warmth spreads through my chest, a nice contrast to the ice-cold feeling that’s been eating away at me all night.
“Kalani,” a voice calls out, snapping me out of my haze. I turn to see Riley standing behind me, a concerned look on his face. “What are you doing?”
I try to act casual, but I can tell he’s already seeing through me. “Nothing,” I mutter, waving my hand dismissively. “Just needed a drink.”
He eyes me for a long moment, his gaze intense, and I can’t help but feel like he’s seeing something I’m not ready to show. But after a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he just steps closer, his hand gently touching my arm, like he’s trying to ground me.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice low.
I nod, even though I don’t feel okay. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... just not feeling it tonight.” I glance down at my heels, feeling like they’re the only thing holding me up at this point.
Riley doesn’t push me. He just stands there for a moment longer, his presence a silent support, before he steps back, nodding once. “Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
I watch as he walks off, swallowed up by the crowd, and I’m left alone with my thoughts again. For a brief moment, I feel like I can breathe again. But then, I hear it—a loud laugh, followed by shouting.
I turn, and that’s when I see JJ. He’s being chased.
It’s chaos—Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and a few others are barrelling after him, pushing through the crowd like they’re on a mission. JJ’s suit jacket flaps as he tries to sprint away, a wild grin on his face like he’s somehow enjoying this.
I glance around, trying to figure out what’s going on, but before I can piece it together, I see Sarah. She’s watching the scene unfold, a small laugh escaping her lips as she talks to a few other people nearby. I don’t know why, but I feel a little guilty—like somehow, this mess is my fault, even though I had nothing to do with it.
I glance back at JJ, still dodging the group chasing him, and can’t help but shake my head. Whatever chaos this night’s going to throw at me, it’s only just beginning.
I freeze when I hear JJ’s voice—loud, brash, unmistakable—cutting through the hum of conversation like a knife. I turn just in time to see him being hauled out by the security guard, who’s doing his best to look authoritative but failing miserably as JJ’s antics draw more attention than anything else happening in the room.
“Look—hey look man! I got legs, I can walk myself. Can you see that, brother?” JJ’s voice is grating, defiant, but there’s a weird sense of humor in it too, like he’s playing some sick joke on the entire party.
The crowd around us stirs in shock, gasps echoing through the air. I can see some of the Kooks shaking their heads in disgust, tsking under their breath. My parents aren’t far behind, their expressions a mixture of confusion and irritation.
I don’t know why, but I feel my stomach drop. The scene is embarrassing—so embarrassing—but I can’t look away. I know JJ’s out of place here. He’s not even supposed to be here.
The security guard pulls JJ right past me, and for a second, our eyes meet. His grin is wide, almost too wide, as if he’s enjoying the chaos he’s causing. I can tell he’s acting out, getting under the skin of everyone here just because he can. He’s never been one to shy away from drama, even if it means making a spectacle of himself.
“Alright, I really appreciate whatcha did back there, but let me just walk myself out,” JJ says to the security guard, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The guard doesn’t respond, just yanking on his arm in an attempt to hurry him along.
As they pass, JJ stops at a table, and I can’t help but feel like I’m witnessing some strange, surreal moment. He pats an old man on the shoulder, someone I barely recognize but who’s definitely a fixture at these Kook events—Mr. Dunleavy, I think his name is.
“Oh! Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink,” JJ says with exaggerated cheerfulness, looking completely out of place in the fancy surroundings. The old man just looks at him, clearly bewildered, and nods, unsure of how to respond to this drunken interloper.
“Good that’s really nice for ya. I’m actually gonna down that-“ JJ, not waiting for an invitation, grabs Mr. Dunleavy’s whiskey glass. Without a second thought, he lifts it to his lips, downing the entire contents in one swift motion. The way he swallows it with a satisfied grin on his face almost makes me laugh, but I hold it in.
JJ slams the glass back down onto the table with a dramatic thud that echoes across the patio, drawing even more stares from the guests. The security guard, still holding onto his arm, continues to drag him through the crowd of Kooks like a stubborn bull being led to slaughter. JJ groans loudly, probably feeling the burn of the whiskey, he just downed, followed by an enthusiastic "Woo!" that cuts through the hum of the party, making heads turn.
“I really appreciate the discretion, Darel, ya know?” JJ says, slurring slightly but maintaining his cocky demeanour. The security guard, Darel, looks utterly unamused as he pulls JJ past a table of laughing guests.
“It’s okay, everybody! Do not panic,” JJ calls out to the crowd with a huge grin plastered on his face, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. He throws his arms wide, like he’s hosting some twisted show. “Let’s leave it to the men and women in uniform, huh?” He claps his hands together as if this is some grand performance, his words laced with more sarcasm than sincerity.
A few of the Kooks laugh nervously, unsure of whether they should be entertained or appalled. I’m not sure which one I feel.
JJ, still soaking up the attention, scans the crowd until his eyes land on Rose Cameron. He points at her across the yard like he’s spotted a celebrity in the crowd, a wild grin spreading across his face.
“Rose!” he shouts, waving a hand at her, as if he’s the life of the party and everyone should be on his wavelength. “You look like Lady Liberty!”
Rose, wearing a spiky gold crown that indeed looks eerily similar to the Statue of Liberty’s, looks both confused and mildly flattered, unsure whether to be offended or impressed. Her eyes widen a little in surprise, but she manages a polite smile and a small wave, trying to keep her cool.
The crowd’s attention is now fully on JJ, some people chuckling nervously, others shaking their heads in disbelief. This is a scene straight out of a bad reality show, and I can’t help but feel embarrassed for everyone involved.
I catch a glimpse of my mom and dad, both of them visibly tense, their faces a mixture of frustration and confusion. I can already tell this is not the kind of drama they wanted at their perfect little party. I feel a pit form in my stomach, a sense of dread creeping over me as I realize that no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape the mess of my life. It’s everywhere, even here, even tonight.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my palms sweating as I stood there, staring at the security guard who still had a firm grip on JJ’s arm. The crowd had quieted down, some of them looking at me, waiting to see what I would do next. My parents’ disapproving stares were like daggers in my back, but I couldn’t back down. Not this time.
"Let go of him!" I snapped, my voice tight with frustration. The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.
Behind me, I heard my dad’s quiet, warning “Hey,” but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t care about his tone right now. I just couldn’t stand seeing JJ getting dragged through the crowd like that.
"You can’t just boot him out!" I said, louder this time, directing my words at the security guard, who had stopped walking but still had a firm grip on JJ’s arm.
My mom’s fingers dug into my arm, pulling me back a little, her presence almost a physical reminder of the Kook world I was always forced to be part of. I knew she was about to intervene, probably with some polished apology and a few well-placed smiles, but I couldn’t let that happen. Not now.
"Excuse me, ma’am?" The security guard asked, his tone polite but firm, like he had dealt with spoiled brats and their tantrums a thousand times before.
"I invited him here," I said, my voice coming out even more steady than I felt. I didn’t care if it was a half-truth. JJ wasn’t some random guy crashing the party. He was a part of my world too, in his own messed-up way.
Behind me, my parents’ voices overlapped, both of them whispering at once. "Kalani, stop it," my mom said sharply, her voice tight with worry.
"Stop," my dad muttered, his tone lower, but no less insistent. He was probably afraid this would spiral into more drama than they could control. But I wasn’t stopping. Not now.
"I’m a member of this club," I said, my hand outstretched, gesturing towards myself as if the words alone could somehow fix this situation. As if that would make everything okay, make JJ’s presence here less of a threat to their precious image. But it didn’t.
The security guard paused, his gaze flicking to my parents, who were now standing behind me, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this was going. His grip on JJ loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go completely. The tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
"Kalani, please," my mom tried again, her voice low, but I could hear the desperation in it. She wanted this night to be perfect. She wanted nothing to disturb the image they had so carefully cultivated. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t going to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t.
I stood my ground, staring at the security guard, who was still holding JJ like he was some unruly guest.
I watched as JJ shoved the security guard off of him with surprising ease, sending him stumbling into a small group of Kooks, who gasped and looked at him in confusion. JJ, as always, was unbothered. He barely even paused, turning to the security guard with a casual, "Sorry about that," before his attention shifted back to me.
"Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixons, Lani," he called out to me, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pointed at me. My stomach churned—Rixons was a run-down shack by the docks, the last place my parents or any of the Kooks would ever set foot. But that was exactly what made it the perfect place for us. For the Pogues.
He glanced over at Pope, who had been working behind one of the food stands with his dad all night, and waved him over. "Pope, you as well, all right?" JJ shouted, already backing away, his excitement growing.
"Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll!" JJ finished, lifting his arm in the air like a triumphant leader, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The way he always made everything sound like some kind of rebellion was a little ridiculous, but honestly, it was part of what made him so... JJ.
Pope, still standing there frozen, blinked at JJ, probably unsure if he was serious. But I knew the look. I had seen Pope wrestle with his conscience before, torn between doing the right thing and the pull of the chaos we always found at Rixons.
JJ wasn’t waiting for an answer. "Alright, Lani, come on!" he shouted again, a playful challenge in his voice. He raised his arm, wrapping it around his wrist like he was trying to make some kind of statement, and then grinned at me. "Workers of the world unite! Throw off your chains!" he shouted, quoting some random revolutionary slogan he probably read on a T-shirt or in a book he barely understood.
It didn’t matter what he said, though. The invitation was clear. JJ was already planning the next adventure, the next way to escape this fake world of perfection that we had to keep pretending we belonged to. The night was still young, and as much as I tried to ignore the consequences, I found myself looking at him with that familiar urge to leave everything behind.
The tension in the air was thick, my parents' voices rising behind me, but I didn't care. My mom's hand reached for my arm, her grip firm as she tried to pull me back.
"You can't hang around these kids—" My dad's voice cracked through the chaos, but I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked my arm out of my mom's grasp, my heart pounding.
"I'm sorry," I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure I meant it. The words sounded empty. I could hear my dad yelling after me—"Hey! Hey!"—but it only spurred me on. My mom's voice echoed in my ears too, a warning, but I kept pushing past the crowd, making my way toward the edge of the party.
John B, JJ, and Pope were already making their move. John B was standing just a few feet from JJ, his eyes scanning the crowd, but I didn't care. My eyes were locked on JJ, and as I sprinted toward him, I could feel the weight of everything I was leaving behind—the judgment, the expectations—falling away.
JJ saw me coming, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t wait for me to reach him. Instead, he started walking backwards, arms outstretched like he was calling me to him.
And just like that, I was in his arms, throwing myself at him. JJ caught me easily, lifting me up off the ground with a laugh, spinning me around like we were the only two people who existed. I buried my face in his shoulder, laughing too, feeling the rush of freedom in my veins as he twirled me around.
For a moment, everything was perfect—no fake smiles, no Kooks, no pressure. Just us. Just the Pogues. We were escaping the world we didn’t belong in, even if only for a few hours.
JJ set me down, still grinning, his hand brushing my hair out of my face. "Thought you'd never get here," he said, his voice warm with amusement. "Welcome to the escape, Lani."
I smiled back at him, shaking my head, but I couldn’t stop the excitement from bubbling inside me. "You know I can't stay away."
As we turned to walk away, I could hear the faint sound of my parents still yelling behind me, but it felt like it was coming from another world. JJ, Pope, and John B were already ahead, moving with purpose toward Rixons. I caught up with them, the night stretching out before us, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was where I was meant to be.
Master list
38 notes · View notes