#like what is going on in the south. i mean my family is from the south but theyre still normal. maybe it's the fact that theyre middle class

[jjmaybankswh0re]

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

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

[supercantaloupe]

because i know you have food opinions and i am thinking about it being in the carolinas this weekend. opinions on barbecuing?

my personal taste preference leans towards a dry rub on the meat and a vinegar based sauce. i like the way the acid pairs with the fattiness of the meat. but i also think the meat itself should taste really good on its own. i don't like when the meat comes pre-sauced when it's served, i prefer to dose sauce out myself, cause i want to be able to taste the meat on its own too. and because i think pre-saucing everything up front might be a way to try and hide what might be a bland or dry or otherwise not preferred piece of meat. i'm not a huge fan of the thick, sweet sauces that are based on molasses or tomato. i tend to find them too sweet and gloopy, and i generally avoid store/chain brand bbq sauces for that reason, but i won't outright turn up a house made sauce without trying it first. i think pork is my favorite meat for barbecue because it's got good flavor and lots of fat to stay juicy, yet it's not so strongly flavored that strong spice or sauce covers it up. though i prefer a cut like shoulder to ribs. beef brisket is good barbecued, i think that's a texas specialty, but i've had some really dry smoked brisket before, and also i'm very partial to brisket prepared other ways like braised or cured into pastrami. and as far as chicken goes, it CAN be quite good, but for me it's gotta be dark meat and it's gotta be cooked competently. i've had too much "barbecue" chicken that is either just plain roasted chicken drowned in mediocre sauce or overcooked so badly it's like chewing on linen fibers. but a nice, simple, salt cured/brined and dry rubbed chicken leg quarter smoked and served with a good sauce on the side? now that's a great dinner. gimme some cornbread and fried okra to go with. yummy

[newdayslinguine]

i am genuinely so fascinated by sororities.

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

Will never forget being a kid and telling someone i was south african only to have them ask:

"Did you have clothes in africa?"

"Had you ever had a bath before coming to Australia?"

"Did you live in a house with walls and bricks?"

Like. Yeah, I guess we were 8... But also i feel like a lot of people's understanding of "Africa" has never really progressed past that point.

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

[homo-house]

hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

[torpublishinggroup]

"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

[mrsbarnesblog]

I feel like when reader gets fed up with Rafe not making a move, she tries to go on a date with someone else and it makes him realize that he has to act if doesn’t want to be left with just “baby daddy” label. loved your story

masterlist ko-fi ao3

requests are open

summary: when you have a baby with your ex-friend with benefits, he realizes that he has to talk about your feelings if doesn't want to lose you (can be read as a standalone, but is part two of this fic)

word count: 1.1k.

warnings: ex fwb, baby daddy Rafe, he's really soft and cutesy (i can't help myself, sorry)

Raising a baby with you felt easy. It felt safe and stable because it seeming like you worked perfectly together, never having serious fights and always easily understanding each other. Rafe adored both of you and he was happier than he ever was, even if he was constantly tired from sleepless nights. 

Every time Rafe looked at you holding your daughter, smiling and particularly shining in your post-pregnancy bliss, he felt his heart flattering. You were his. The mother of his daughter, his friend, his family, his girl. 

Then, when you unexpectedly mentioned to him that someone had asked you out, things went south. 

You both hated every second of what was likely your first serious argument, but you were unable to contain your emotions when the situation deeply hurt both of you. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rafe! I don’t know what you expect from me when the only thing that I know for certain is that I am the mother of your child!” You screamed at him, blinking away your tears. 

“Don’t say that. You know what I want from you, and I can’t let you go out on dates with some random dudes, Y/N. Like, you have to be joking. We just had a baby, for fuck’s sake!” His hands flew to his hair as he started walking back and forth in the middle of his living room. 

“As far as I’m aware, I’m single, Rafe.” You said it bitterly, bringing your legs closer to your chest and wrapping your hands around them. You wanted to hide because it felt to heavy to be talking about it, especially when you never desired anything more than to be appreciated and loved by the man in front of you.

“So this means nothing to you?” 

“It was not what I said.”

“You said you’re single.” 

“Am I not?” You whispered. “You were horny and had a baby with me. Just admit it.” 

You were looking at each other with emotions and unsaid feelings on the tips of your tongues. It hurt you to say it; it hurt you to realize how easy it was to end everything here and face the reality that you were no one to each other. Tears flooded your vision and you looked down, defeated. 

“I’m sorry.” Rafe whispered back, as the panic started to settle in him. “I’m so so sorry, Y/N. It has never been my intention to make you feel this way, but I promise that you’re much more for me.” He came closer to you, kneeling in front of your shivering body. “Even if it was casual sex at that time, I would've never signed up for a baby with someone who I felt nothing for.” 

His hands reached for your legs, setting them down on the floor and instead moving closer to you. Rafe touched your face, making you look at him through wet eyelashes and you noticed a longing, almost pleading, look in his eyes. 

“I love you. I love you and our little girl, and I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want you. I need you because you’re my best girl—the prettiest, sexiest, most brilliant woman I’ve ever met. I was too dumb to not do it earlier, but I want to have it all with you. I want you both here all the time, with me. You are my family. ”

He left you completely speechless, making you sob harder and lean into his chest, leaving wet stains all over his shirt. You didn't know how you could live in denial for that long, but you realized how desperately you craved to hear these words. How desperately you tried to convince yourself to stick with what you had when the only thing you ever wanted was him.

“Sh-h, baby…” He soothed your hair, holding you closer and allowing you to let go of your emotions. Rafe hated how oblivious he was to your feeling this whole time. Seeing you break down hurt him more than he could imagine and he knew he would do anything to never see that look in your eyes again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, mama. I love you.”

“I l-love you t-too.” You hiccuped, leaning back and wiping your face. Rafe’s eyes stayed on yours when he slowly traced with his thumb your slightly swollen bottom lip and then moved closer. 

He kissed you slowly, passionately, gently biting your lip, as if he were claiming you again and you felt that familiar sparkle in your body that appeared whenever he was touching you so gently. You brought your hands to his shoulders to feel his body closer to yours and he obliged, slightly hovering over you.

Soft crying from the bassinet interrupted you, and before you could even begin to worry about your daughter, Rafe had already pulled away, but not before giving you that promising look and moving in her direction. 

“Hi, pretty girl.” He cooed, taking her in his arms and lifting her up in the air. She looked so tiny compared to him and you felt another wave of tears coming in. “Sh-h, it’s okay. Are you hungry or did you just want someone to hold you, hm?” Rafe placed her on the crock of his arm and started swaying from side to side. Her cries slowly calmed down, as she was looking up at him with big blue eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re so natural with her, i’m kind of jealous.” You laughed, wiping the leftovers of your tears. Rafe smiled back at you and sat down near you on the couch, wrapping his free hand around your shoulders to bring you closer. 

“Not as good as you. You’re an amazing mom. We love mommy so much, right, princess?” He tickled your daughter's belly and she giggled, looking between both of you happily. “I meant it when I said it, Y/N. I want you to move in. I want to have you both with me 24/7, because I cannot do it like this anymore.” Rafe almost begged, turning his head in your direction. Your eyes searched for his and the look that you saw there made your heart flutter. 

The thing about Rafe was that he was bad at expressing his feelings, but his eyes always showed you what you wanted to know. And now, when there was nothing but pure love and admiration, you knew that it was true. 

“Okay. I want it too.” You smiled, peacefully resting your head against Rafe’s shoulder, as the worry inside of you finally calmed down.

[spitefullyjewish]

Okay, this is my third time trying to put this into words. I am very upset, hurt, and honestly terrified. I’m about to share a lot about myself, my family, and a very scary situation happening right now, so for my own safety, I won’t provide too many details.

I live in a secondary city in a South American country. The Jewish community here is very small—around 5,000 people total out of over 50 million. In my city, which has over 3 million people, there are only about 300 Jews. We’re literally on the other side of the world from Israel.

We own a family business, a small clothing factory where we make knitted garments. It was founded by my grandmother 48 years ago. My father is the current manager, and both my sister and I work there. We employ around 80 people. We pay fair and legal wages (not the industry standard in my country), and although times are really hard, we’ve never missed a payment, not once in our 48 years in business. My father paused his own salary and hasn’t received a cent since January, and my sister and I both stopped getting paid for three months. But the people who work with us have always received their salaries as they should.

Now, today, September 30th, (just a couple of days before the start of our high holidays and exactly one week before the first anniversary of October 7th) the biggest and most important public university in my city, in conjunction with the syndicate council, invited the Palestinian ambassador to give a conference about the current situation and the war. Well, apparently, it derailed into open antisemitism and ended up as a conference about how Jews are all thieves and scammers. Because, I kid you not, back in the '90s, a huge group of my country’s biggest companies went bankrupt and couldn’t pay their employees what they owed. One out of about 30 of those companies was owned by Jewish people. So, of course, "we Jews are all liars, scammers, and thieves, just like the Israelis—always trying to take what doesn’t belong to us"

So, what conclusion did they reach at this conference about Palestine and the current war happening on the other side of the world? Well, naturally, they decided to target Jewish-owned businesses in my city (which means our factory and two other small businesses in our area) to protest and vandalize, because we’re all thieves and scammers, and Israel is bad and horrible, and everyone in my city needs to be made aware of that. When are they planning to come? October 7th, of course, when else?

The only reason I even know about this is that one of my Jewish friends decided to attend the conference to hear from the Palestinian ambassador and, risking their own safety, stayed to hear the names of the businesses that are going to be targeted.

I'm hurt and scared and I've been trying not to cry since I found out. These are the people on the left, these we were supposed to be my people, I've marched with them, I've worked and voted with them. I don't know what to do? Please, please tell me how are they different from actual Nazis? How is this situation different from any other jew living in Europe in the 1930's? I guess shannah fucking tovah to me, as if last year wasn't a wake up call. I am fucking awake.

[f0point5]

Lando Norris x reader Masterlist

Only rumours ‘bout my hips and thighs - News of Y/N and Lando’s budding “relationship” hits F1 news

It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got - Rumours about Lando and Y/N heat up. Meanwhile, Y/N is skeptical about Lando’s friendly overtures

You will take the long way - Y/N discusses her secret, and Lando lets out his frustrations with Max

At least I’m trying - Y/N catches up on the new season of Drive to Survive, while Lando makes another effort to befriend her

Gain the weight of you - Y/N ties up loose ends as the stage is set for the relationship to go public

You told your family for a reason - Y/N arrives in Bahrain, and the deception deepens

The jury’s out - Y/N meets more people in Lando’s life with mixed reception, and attends her first race

(They) find something to wrap (their) noose around - Lando is subject to some controversy, which means Y/N has to step in, whole fighting to stay in her comfort zone

You don’t know how nice that is…but I do - Y/N attends the race where she makes an immediate connection with Oscar, and Lando makes an ill-advised move to impress her

You don’t feel pretty, you just feel used - Y/N finds herself in high demand, much to her dismay, as she heads to Australia for the next race

I’m feeling like I don’t know you - Lando’s feelings about how Y/N is spending her time in Australia bubble over

New to town with a made up name - Y/N does a Q&A

Every time you shine, I’ll shine for you - Lando secures an amazing result at the Australian Grand Prix, while neitzens discuss his new relationship.

That old familiar body ache - Y/N is forced to get back to work, which includes seeing Lando

The rust that grew between telephones - Y/N’s campaign debuts while she and Lando are in Japan. Lando searches for answers for what happened in Monaco

It’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound - Y/N skips the Japanese Grand Prix and puts her job in jeopardy

Did you see the photos? No, I didn’t but thanks though - Y/N is forced to defend Lando from gossip, while her position as his girlfriend remains precarious

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you aware - Max F weighs in on Lando’s troubles, while Lando finds he and Y/N have a common interest

Lights, camera, bitch smile - Y/N puts on an impressive show at the Grand Prix. Lando’s jealousy gets the better of him, leading to a frank conversation

Don’t you worry your pretty little mind - Y/N reaches out to Lando when he is the subject of online trolling to offer support

I did my best to lay to rest - Y/N and Lando get closer in Miami, but the increased publicity may lead to things being unearthed that Y/N would like to stay buried

I was grinning like (he’s) winning - Y/N watches Lando become a Grand Prix winner

You can’t talk to me when I’m like this - Lando wins the Miami Grand Prix, but a misstep means Y/N is not part of the celebration

I never grew up, it’s getting so old - Oscar steps in to help when Y/N and Lando aren’t speaking

Can (he) see right through me? (I) see right through me - Y/N takes Oscar’s advice and opens up to Lando

Our secret moments, in a crowded room - Y/N and Lando spend time together while Monaco hosts the Historic Grand Prix

They’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down - Fans speculate when Y/N and Lando are not seen together and she misses the Imola Grand Prix

It’s nice to have a friend - Y/N has a busy week in the South of France, and Lando tries to be supportive as the two plan to keep the rouse going when his family comes to town

I spy with my tired little eye - Y/N attends the Monaco Grand Prix

We might just get away with it - Y/N remains in Monaco with Lando to keep up pretences

Telling me to punish you for things you never did - Lando arrives alone in Canada while the internet finds out Y/N has been spending time with Freddie…and so does Lando.

Love’s a show, but I would die for you in secret - Father’s Day brings Y/N closer to understanding Lando, and letting Lando understand her

Braced myself for the goodbye, (…) but you took me by surprise - Y/N attends the Spanish Grand Prix. After a disappointment, Lando receives some tough love

But God, I love the English - Y/N accompanies Lando to the UK, and he supports her as the quadrant collaboration goes live

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[astrologylunadream]

Everything About Your Future Spouse +Traits & Initials 🌹👤💍 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi it's Lunadream~ This is my first future spouse reading for you guys, so let me know if you wanna see more readings like this one.❤️ We will learn everything on your future spouse and specific details about them. hope you find your message🥰

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 This is a general reading for many people! (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~❤️

Pile 1🌹

Pile 2🪷

Pile 3💐

Pile 4🌷

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 💕

Pile 1🌹

Sign energy: Cold, Darling, Concert, Silence, Provide, Saturn, Aries, 5th house, 4th house, Sun,✔️♒️♋️🫡

🌹All about your future spouse: I kinda felt there would for sure be some successful energy from this pile's future spouse lol. Not necessarily prideful but definitely they know their worth, and I'm typically seeing an entrepreneur/family business thing going on with you two😍🏠💼 I love this couple's energy so much. Idk why but I'm getting some of you may be Aries-Aquarius relationship or Aries-Cancer relationship. They could have Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Leo, or Cancer placements in their chart. Omg your spouse will know how to mix work and play so well!! Like one minute they are serious down to business and the next dragging you off to a concert and jamming out with you LOL🤣 You guys may tie the knot sometime in winter. It's in the cards my pile 1's this person WILL PROVIDE.💸💰💍 Like your future spouse will dedicate so much to their family, and they will make a great parent I'm hearing for those who are interested in that😭💗 Omg so like at their work space they are super cold and sooo different from the way they are at home with their spouse/family, at home they are literally so sweet to their partner and love playing with their kids but they DON'T PLAY at work oml like people they work with will have mad respect for your future spouse, I'm kinda getting boss energy so that could be because everyone is under your future spouse or working for them.😎🪜🔝 They show authority to others I'm seeing people greeting your future spouse like saluting to them (maybe they're in high position), bowing to your future spouse, ect. Your future spouse is so soft spoken and sweet with my pile 1's, meanwhile at work they may be more stern or harsh. They don't mind stepping on toes to give everything to their family.🥺💐💞 Ride or die for their family vibes. Seriously you will mean so much to this person, you will be a huge highlight in your future spouse's life. It's so sweet, so loving.🥹❤️

💬Initials: X, F, V, U, R

📍Locations: North america, North, Australia, South, Europe (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Entrepreneur, Public figure, Manager, Business owner, CEO, Finance, Artist, Politician, Media Influencer, Property owner, High status official, Entertainment industry

💌Messages from your future spouse: I can't believe it, I can't look you in the eyes, You left an impression on me, Come to your senses, I'm so tempted (😍) Extra cards: Public image, Connection, Synchrony, Sagittarius, Cupid

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the red rose emoji~🌹 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Pile 2🪷

Sign energy: Eyebrows, Decor, February, Train, Siren, Chiron, 11th house, Water, South node, Earth,🦋🍋😰🌁

🌹All about your future spouse: Okay so definitely getting water sign energy with this one. Your future spouse has such adorable traits!!😩💗 They may be born in february so Pisces is likely. Aquarius, Earth or Water placements too. They may work online or have an online business, it's something really clever and innovative I'm hearing. Your future spouse will have a very delicate occupation like it's nothing extreme or dangerous it's actually super simple and successful.😇📨 This may be designing, home related, advertising, ect. I just feel like their job is so sweet idk why. It really suits them and they have such a calm and gentle work space. Your spouse will make money online or that is a source for them💸💻💫 You may connect with them through social media or that is where you first see them. They are intuitive and have exceptional ideas, I feel like they really think out of the ordinary.💡 For some of you this spouse may have a job that requires getting on a train🚆 My pile 2's your future spouse will be unique and very interesting to you.✨️ They will heal your past, like you can depend on them.🫂 Their eyebrows may be a noticeable physical trait of theirs. Your future spouse may live near a bridge or water, also you guys may have a small thing of growing your own fruits or vegetables?? For some of you that may be the case, it's really cute omg.🥺🩷 This will feel like a very healthy relationship for you both, a breath of fresh air. I feel like this person can be whatever you want them to be, like they will change for the better for you.💗 Omg can can we talk about how worried they get over you?? Like if you get injured or they think the slightest thing is bothering you, they will ask you what's wrong and comfort you until you feel better.😢🌧💞 Like they just know. Your future spouse has soft siren vibes imo, not the intense scary kind but the adorable floppy fish vibes idk??😂🤣 They are just there for you whenever you need them💓 This is a really soft and innocent relationship you guys will have. :D

💬Initials: F, Z, L, W, J

📍Locations: U.S.A, Turkey, Hawaii, Indonesia, Australia (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Brand owner, Home design, Online marketing, Architecture, Interior designer, Online business, Editor, Graphic design, Freelance artist, Social media management

💌Messages from your future spouse: I get lost in your eyes, All you have to do is ask, I'll tell them myself, Have you thought of me lately? I think you're a great person (They love my pile 2's vibe😊🩷) Extra cards: Above, Blood, Embrace, Union, Unrequited love

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the pink lotus emoji~🪷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Pile 3💐

Sign energy: Love letter, Wish, Spouse, Chiron, Long, Cancer, Aries, Mercury, 1st house, 3rd house,😭🥲🦇👅

🌹All about your future spouse: Wow interesting my pile 3's your future spouse is so recognizable, you will notice them right away.😍😍❤️ Prominent signs for them are Cancer, Aries, Virgo, and Gemini. They will be so into you from the start lol like serious about you. They will confess many times to ensure they have you, They could have long legs or something long in their appearance, their tongue could be.😶 Anyways they will speak to you first I'm hearing, it will not be hard for them to strike up a conversation with you. You will be shocked by their forward approach, they may be surprisingly honest in the beginning like "let's get this thing straight, I'm into you" kinda thing🤭❤️ But like once you become closer you will see how romantic and loving your future spouse gets with you!! They will compliment you and flirt with you so much, and probably the type to keep telling you they want to marry you.🏠🌹They are witty and romantic as hell. The type to brag about their family with you (if you have one) and tell others how in love with you they are. They will talk up my pile 3's so much.🥺💞 Their job may involve communicating with many people. Your future spouse will help you through things that have been affecting you for a while. You will really want to commit to this person I'm hearing, once they got you.. you won't wanna leave😝 They speak openly about the things they want and leave it out there waiting for you to fulfill them💋 Like saying they want affection without actually asking or telling you they're cold just to see if you'll cuddle them.🥺 This is so sweet, they know all the words to say to make you blush.🗣💌 Your future spouse will know they want to marry you upon first meeting or the early stages of the connection, also for some of you this person has been wishing and hoping to marry you or find you for a long time.⏳️ Once they have you they won't stop telling you how pretty/hot you are😳❤️‍🔥 They are great communicators, like really smooth.😎 Kisses with them will be💋👅 And hugs will be🫂😇 That is all I will say about that🙈 My pile 3's your future spouse will be so caring and doting to you, they will take good care of you guys!!

💬Initials: N, U, X, B, K

📍Locations: Canada, Finland, Peru, Africa, India (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Writer, Poet, Personal trainer, Motivational speaker, Public speaker, An activist of some kind, Family business, Preacher, Blogger, Screenwriter, News reporter, Broadcaster

💌Messages from your future spouse: I can't help myself, Just dance with me, I wish, There's distance between us, So what if we're a thing? Extra cards: Listen, Kitty, Ego, Enchanting, Comment (Yeah they are one with their words💬❤️‍🔥)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the flower bouquet emoji~💐 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Pile 4🌷

Sign energy: Hater, Age, Walk, Leo, 10th house, 7th house, 5th house, Gemini, Moon, Chiron,🧱🦥🔞🦄

🌹All about your future spouse: There is a lot going on with this pile.🤯 Your future spouse is someone very important, on the top of success in their field.🔝💼 They are charismatic and good with all kinds of people, they know how to gain respect🤝 You guys may have a significant age gap with this person, I'm getting they are older than most of you. My pile 4's feel more youthful, that is the vibe I'm getting from you guys. Your future spouse has a masculine energy and approach to things, very dominant feel. I'm getting model/acting/CEO/millionaire/high up official vibes.✨️ Take what resonates but I am seeing not everyone will approve of your relationship with them.😬🚫 For some of you this could be your mom or someone who is protective over you, they may not want you to marry this person. Your future spouse will be very well off in terms of finance💸 I'm getting the vibe they may push you guys away at first, maybe you want to rush into things with them but they don't think you are ready.✋️🤨 They may put their walls up at first, but eventually they will realize you are worthy and successful in their eyes.👑💍 At first your future spouse will come off dismissive of you since they are used to having many admirers that get on their nerves, your future spouse may have issues with gold diggers💰🧲 I'm seeing people tryna put their hands on them and they're just like 🙄 get the fk away. LOL they hate it. Everyone thinks they are one of a kind and want a piece of them, your future spouse will recieve so much attention.👀 Also people will be jealous of you and your spouse like why her/him??😒😤 Your relationship will be sought after by many. Your future spouse may also take walks often, that could be something you two do together.🥰 They will protect and provide for my pile 4's, nothing will get in their way of you guys seriously.🥺❤️ When you two are finally committed things will get spicy aswell❤️‍🔥

💬Initials: W, C, M, T, D

📍Locations: Turkey, Hawaii, Canada, Brazil, Thailand (These can be significant to you or them, or places you meet, travel or live together🥰)

💼Occupations: Public figure, Business owner, Entertainer, CEO, Entrepreneur, Model, Acting, Investor, Marketer, Producer, Fashion industry, Brand ambassador

💌Messages from your future spouse: You're talking nonsense, Smile for me, We might move too fast, You're my addiction, Listen up (Lol they're like listen here pile 4 you belong to them😭👇) Extra cards: Skin, Beach, Compulsive, Beloved, Expand (I'll leave it to you guys imagination on that one😳)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!❤️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the tulip emoji~🌷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! Wish you the best and see you in the next reading💋

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[hidtired]

sooo what i you do a Daryl x reader where the reader and Daryl had a relationship before the whole outbreak but when the world went to shit, they got separated and they didn't find each other again until Daryl and Aaron are out looking for people and they find the reader in some sort of abandoned building and it's just a sweet reunion. Btw I love your reading and I have no idea what you mean by GRAMMER MISTAKES- LIKE WHERE- but I love ur work <3

That makes my dyslexic ass very happy. I reread my stuff so much and always find mistakes so I try!

Miles Away

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

“Things are never lost to you; you are lost to them. If ever in need of something that has lost you, simply stop hiding from it.”

6.2k words

Description: A last minute trip leaves you separated from your fiancé when the world ends. Years of travel inevitably returns you to him. But years out in the world causes change.

Your POV

An unlikely relationship to have happened between two individuals, but happened all the same. It was a shock to the small town at the time. Even years later the announcement of your engagement causing some ruffled feathers. You the sweet town girl and a rugged Dixon. You were often discouraged from people about Daryl. You had dated the man for around 7 years now. Even so, the people around you told you it was a mistake to go through with a marriage. How could you not do it? He proposed, something you thought he would never do because his parents. He put it simply, “I already see you as my wife. Guess it was bout time I actually made you that rightfully.” So you told everyone to respectfully mind their business.

Then the world ended. You were thousands of miles in the air at the start. Daryl having dropped you off at the airport. You sulked with leaving, becoming mushy about going to New Hampshire to see your dementia ridden mother for the most likely last time. She was getting bad and some family had gathered and deciding to pull the plug. You still remember the last thing you said to him. Tears in your eyes as he held you outside TSA. “I’ll be back in a few days. Then I’m turning that title of fiancé into husband the next I see you.” You felt him chuckle into you, “Yes Ma’am you will.” Expressing I love you’s and the last kiss before you had to catch your flight. This isn’t the first time you had gone to check on your mom. Daryl insisted on coming but he had a hunting trip with his brother and you didn’t want to ruin that. So you had told him no. Why did you tell him no.

The first community you were apart of was the airport you landed at. It lasted a few months, food was plenty for the time and there were weapons from security. It was the people who ended up getting everyone killed. Few disagreements here and there caused a split, factions of sorts. One group kidnapped a pilot to try and fly a plane back to their loved ones. The plane they took hadn’t been run or properly check since everything fell. So it crashed into the fence destroying a good part of the airport with it. The crash attracted a horde and quickly over ran the place. You had a few survivors with you from the airport until you had either lost or seen them all killed.

You headed south, back to Daryl. Miles and miles of land keeping you from Georgia. It was 2 years going on 3 now. You would come across community’s, some still going some gone. Finding less than great people on the road. So that leads you to now. Two wannabe cowboys trying to lasso you like cattle. A scar carved into there for heads the only odd thing about them. They spit out concerning threats and comments, “You can have my seconds when I’m done Bill!” A rope had caught tight to your ankle leading you unable to run. You almost tripped but held your ground. Before this encounter you’d been having it tough for a few weeks. You had barely made any distance in the time you had traveled. The frustration and despair and shit luck wore you thin. You had a gun, only one in the chamber. Leaving one for you if you needed it. About the only ‘cure’ there is nowadays.

You thrashed around trying to fight off the men. You were already covered in grime. They were trying to capture you, not kill. That changed when the gun came out. This alone helpless woman became not so helpless. You fired your only shot at the bigger guy. The smaller one still had the rope and tugged making you miss killing the other. It hit him in the shoulder sending him crying in pain to the forest floor. It was moments like these that made you zone out. Violence wasn’t something you had in you. But now something learned, you had been out in the world too long. Taking a life becoming a norm. You used to care, then you remembered why they were all dead.

The steadiness you felt inside didn’t translate to the out. You scream and yell promises of death. You had managed to grab the rope from your ankle and used it to strangle the man who tied it to you. You broke a few ribs of his while he slowly chocked to death. You had your legs around him while you pulled back at his throat, you had heard and felt a few cracks. The man you had shot watching in horror has he struggled to decide, fight or flight? He choose froze, big scary man having his power taken from him and he becomes a coward. Your incessant screams and yells stopped when he stilled. You focus back to the injured. He rambled apologies to you at your approach. It fell on deaf ears, spotting a large rock near him. You didn’t kill him with speed. You broke his leg with the rock, slowly moving up his body. He was long dead when you were done swinging. Blood splattered and dripping down you.

A frustrated and adrenaline filled scream released out of you. All your noise attracted the infected near you. You ran still with a rope tied to you. You found a small home that was overgrown and slid into it. The knife you didn’t realized you pulled out while running tremble in your hand. You slide down the old wall in the building. The regret to your brutality flowing over you. Killing was normal for survival now, but what you did was cruel. You took your time and did it in brutal ways.

You were twirling the ring on your finger as a nervous habit. Often times doing it for a sense of safety from the man who had given it to you. You thought about him most days. Either when you do something he himself had taught you. That time spent with him in the woods had you picking up little things from him in time. It is why you’re alive for as long as you were. But come closer to night time when you just want to roll into his arms and let the world cease to exist. To just talk to him and hear his voice. But you were no longer the person he knew, and that broke your heart more. The blood covering you, the mans and yours was a very big indication of that fact.

The dead must have saw you run off and tried to follow. The sound of a leaf crunching told you only one must have stumbled correctly in your direction. The quiet movement and lack of undead moans told you all you needed to know.

‘They must have had friends.’

Daryl POV

He was devastated knowing you were far from his reach. Blame for not going with you. It was your mother dying how could he have just let you tell him it was fine? That, “We will go to the funeral when that comes.” He was bitter and angry in the beginning. Then it was hope when he got to the prison with people he now considered family. Maybe one day he would find you again. Then the prison fell and reality seemed to hit him.

Acceptance came when he finally confessed to Rick of your existence. It was when they sat against that car after the night with the claimers. He broke when he told him he was his brother. A mention of Beth stirring the thought of you with it. He looked away from Rick taking a shaky breath, “I lost her like how… how I lost m’ wife.” Rick’s eyes widened taking in the information. Tears build in Daryl’s eyes before he steels himself, “Completely out of my control and yet… somehow was.” Rick understands the feeling, it turns out Daryl knew just that to. When he lost Lori, it was Daryl that helped hold things together. That sudden understanding knocked into him. Rick cautiously asked, “Are they both dead…?” Daryl looked out to the forest. He slowly shook his head, “Just gone.”

When Beth died it also felt like you died with her. The hope he always had that you were out there seemingly dying inside him. He knew the kind of person you were. He would kill squirrels and you would feed them. He knew you were far too nice for your own good. You had spent hours in the rain trying to lure a kitten from under the neighbors shed. Catching a cold so bad it stuck with you for a week. You were his fragile thing in the world he promised to protect. To not just keep you alive but keep your innocence. Whether you were dead or not you would have had killed something in you to live in today’s world. To not be able to protect you from anything felt like he failed you.

He still held a hope you went down peacefully. It had to be meaningful because your life had to be for something. He tried to do the same by giving his life for others. Most recently that person being Aaron. In truth he was ok with dying knowing there was a slim chance of seeing you once again. Things that reminded him that maybe it was better for you to have not suffered. With the horde and assholes he tried to help and others assholes destroying Alexandria’s walls. So now that leading them, him and Aaron tracking the few Wolves who fled. They knew Rick said not to go recruiting people. The distance yells and screams caught there interest. They still need to try despite Rick being jumpy and “taking no chances”. If they could only just make sure whoever was well then that was enough.

When they got closer to a woman’s scream, which sounded in between scared and angry, the dead also seemed to take interest into the noise. The yelling had stopped near when the shot went off, so finding exactly where this person was in the woods became harder. The sight they found was not what they expected. Aaron had held a hand to his mouth, “What the-“ The sight was gruesome, two body’s laid in the dirt. One unrecognizable due to being beaten to a pulp. The other had a walker chewing on its leg. The neck of the man purple. Daryl looked on at the sight with a scowl and went to put the near walker down. He took notice of the W carved into the dead mans head, “Well shit.” Aaron perked up as he watched Daryl crouch down to the man who was choked. Daryl turning gesturing with his head to the body, “These the assholes who fled.” Aaron walked and peeked to see a W carved into there forehead. These two were the last known of the group and they had seemed to died gruesomely, but not by the dead. Aaron turned to Daryl as a realization hit him, “Where the girl who was screaming?”

A unwelcome chill and uneasiness drifted in the air. A thick cloud of a sad thought, “M’ guess they must have attacked her and she shot big fella over there. Then ran from the walkers.” Daryl nibbled at his lip, his eyes roamed the surrounding, maybe a clue confirming the theory. Some blood caught his attention, then he noticed further that in a direction something was dragged through the forest floor. He pointed in the direction making Aaron turn. Aaron looked to have some kind of resolve, “Let’s make sure she is ok.” Daryl nodded while walking forward to track, “If there comes back with us I’ll try and talk Rick into letting them stay. Hell best we can offer is at least some meds, she did use a favor with those dick bags.” Aaron eyebrows scrunched, “Maybe that would help their case. I don’t like not being about to recruit people anymore.”

The trail Daryl followed lead him to a very overgrown building. It was clear the place may have been abandoned even before the fall. Daryl walked quietly, he gestured he would go around back and that Aaron should go in the front. Aaron crouched and made his way closer to the building while Daryl went to the back. The slow creak of the wooden door making it obvious he was there, Aaron had no stealth in him. So he knows if someone was in this place they knew he was here, he might as well make himself known. He gulped seeing a hand print of blood on the wall closed to the door, “I don’t want to hurt you. Just heard you screaming and saw the bodies of those men. Your not hurt are you?” His weight making the wood underneath him bend with every step. The place was silent, but he knew that someone was here if the blood trail wasn’t any indication.

It was sudden, almost like a flow of wind whipping behind him. A cold knife pressed to his neck. You had drifted out of the dark from somewhere stunning him in shock. He nervously brought his hands up in surrender, “Woah! There’s no need for that.” He tried to stay calm but an obvious tremor to his voice giving away his nerves. The quick movement and tone had alerted the archer to his danger though. Daryl saw a grimy and bloody figure stand to Aaron’s side. Daryl lifted and clicked his crossbow of safety and pointed to the potential threat.

It was clear by the way the person froze they knew they were now out numbered. It was also evident that this person was trembling. They were in a fight mode from just being attacked and he didn’t blame them for being on edge. By the looks of it they had been out in the world for to long, something he was familiar with. This person seemed to be thinking of anyway to run and Daryl decided he should speak stopping those thoughts from getting to how you got away from the other guys.

“Put the knife down, we just were wantin to see if yeah are ok.”

The slow turn of the persons head seemed almost confused. But the soon flicker of eye contact between them revealed all. His grip on his crossbow slowly slipping. His heart pumped in his ears. You. Maybe he was dreaming? You? The building feeling dropped in him. Some way somehow he was staring at you, the women he would burn the world for. He watched as the knife was moved from Aaron and saw it fall to the floor. The sound of you crashing back to the wall behind you giving him a clear view of you. You were covered in dirt and blood. Hair was much shorter then the last he saw you. It was choppy like you did it with a dull blade. It was also tinted darker from being unwashed. Holes throughout your clothes and the collar loose. He slowly stepped closer ignoring Aaron. Then he saw it, a flicker of a sparkle coming from your finger.

The ring he gave you…

Your POV

The clumsy man sloppily creeped up into the house. A voice calmly spoke as they realized they were less than quiet entering, “I don’t want to hurt you. Just heard you screaming and saw the bodies of those men. Your not hurt are you?” The hatred still buzzed in you from your near death experience. This man claimed to ‘not want to hurt you’ but never said they weren’t going to hurt you. The man walked with heavy feet. You were in a dark room hugging the wall near the door. If he was truthful about just overhearing everything you didn’t want to kill him. It was hard to remember that not everyone was out to get you. Even so you quickly rushed to pull your knife to his neck.

The man seemed schooled while raising his hands in surrender. A good move that eased his threat level to you. You took notice of his clean appearance, something that seemed a little strange at first. He looked to you with ought moving his head. Eyes glancing down to you, “Woah! There’s no need for that.” It was clear to you this guy was not involved with the others you just killed. Before you could ask anything a click from across the hall stunned you into a sense of danger overflowing from you again. You didn’t move your sight from the man in front of you. It was clear some kind of weapon was pointed at you. You hadn’t heard the other person at all? Maybe the first guy was so loud you didn’t even think he had another person with him. Should you run? Maybe kill the guy at your knife point and use him as a shield for the other-

“Put the knife down, we just were wantin to see if yeah are ok.”

It was as if a ghost whispered in your ear. The unexpected voice from the dark pulling at your heart and memories. Maybe you were losing it, becoming crazy? All this time out in the world had gotten to you. Your eyes while scared to drift to the darkness and see nothing quickly glanced over to confirm if you lost it. Blue eyes is what you saw. His baby blue eyes that you used to joke would be the color of your children’s. Daryl, crossbow slowly lowering revealing more of himself. The knife slipped from your hand. The man near you back away after it fell. You didn’t even notice while crashing backwards. Eyes still locked with a seeming allusion of your lover. A overwhelming mess of feeling all at once made you numb. You were in Virginia… still miles from Georgia.

He stepped closer, hair longer and clothes seemed worn but still clean. You struggled to suck air in to your lungs, starting to hyper ventilate. You slid down the wall still looking at him. He crouched down to your level eyes glassy and a look of pain in his eyes.

“Darlin’…”

Both POV

Your lips wobbled as tears flood your vision. A sudden rush of air finally hitting your lungs. He almost reached out to touch you but froze halfway not wanting to scare you. The first sound of a cry released from you. You sent yourself flying up at him, encircling him into your arms. He caught you but stumbled back landing on his ass. He felt your body shake with your cry’s. A tightness stuck in his throat as he held you. A moment neither thought would have again.

"Uh, Daryl what just happened?"

Daryl looked over your shoulder and up to a very confused Aaron. A long sigh released from him, "M' Wife." He leaned his head down onto yours. You pulling back to look to him. Tears still in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. Not enough to not take notice of how he changed, for as long as you've known him he's never looked more mature. You sniffle, "I thought I'd never see you again." The clear strain to the admission broke his heart. He knew though, despite that you had been trying to get back, you wouldn't be in front of him now if you hadn't. He wiped at your tears still not fully processing. He noticed Aaron move and sigh, "I'll give you a moment, keep in mind we have to get back before dark." He walked out the door and it creaked and slowly swung closed. It had seemed you had only just noticed and remembered he was there. But you had also remembered that the world was still shit. You looked to Daryl and you notice he was looking at you already.

"Shit. Are you hurt? I saw those assholes bodies-" He seemed to realized it to. The world was different, therefore so were you. He might still have lost you. "-you killed those pricks?" His innocent little thing? He looked to the blood that covered you. Then he remembered the way those bodies looked. You looked away from his eyes seemingly ashamed, "Yes." It was a slightly cold reply. Squeezed fists, nails digging into your palm. "They cornered me so I killed them." It wasn't even a second when Daryl replied with a grumble in his voice, "Good." Your eyes spring to look at his face in surprise. You saw the unwavering truth in that moment. Yes you had changed, so had he.

You smile while tears stream down your face. He was truly here. You grab his face in your hands and look deep into his eyes. He was mesmerized by the change. The love in your eyes remain the same he last saw them, in the end you were still his. He should have clocked that the moment he still say the ring on your finger. You let in a breath before speaking, “The only reason I’m still alive is because of you.” He wasn’t expecting that. He seemed to bite his tongue and look down for a second. Guilty. You forgot how soft hearted this man was, you’re glad that somehow is still with him. You never thought that maybe he would blame himself for the separation. You lift his head to look back to you, “All the times I would watch you hunt, track, and prepare kills kept me fed. All the times I should have given up or accepted death I told myself I would crawl my way to you if I had to.”

Then is when the crashing feeling dropped on him. The love he held for you that felt like a void suddenly was right in front of him. You slowly leaned into him giving a slow kiss. His hand slipped behind your head pulling you into a deeper kiss. Something both would fantasize about now becoming a reality. You wince causing Daryl to pull back. He pulled you back and took a look at you. You huffed a sigh sitting back to the forgotten rope around your foot. Daryl’s eyes round at the rope around your swollen ankle, he grabbed your leg mumbling curses. You sighed, “Shit, forgot about that.” You flinch while he carefully unwraps it. You didn’t feel the pain until now. It didn’t feel broken but the guy must have sprained it the time he pulled on it before you shot his friend. Maybe the crunching you heard while strangling the guy with the rope was your foot. Daryl grunted and had that worried pout he did, “We gotta get yeah back to get that looked at.” He stood first helping you stand. You stumbled giving him a questioning look, “Back where?” He helped you out the door, the man you didn’t recognize turning to your exit of the shack. Daryl started to explain, “We have a community, it’s a little drive away.”

You cringe at the word community. You have seen your fair share of them, either run by crazy’s with a weird motive or something natural would happen destroying the place. “Don’t have the greatest relationship with those but, if you say so.” You look to the man Daryl was with, he seemed bamboozled. He walked closer to you and helping you walk. Daryl seemed perturbed, “I got her, I’ll get her to your car.” You watched somewhat comically as the man sassed and brush’s off his statement. You expected Daryl to hurl harsh words at him because he typically hated when anyone challenged him. But by this man’s tone, “You got shot few days ago. Not the greatest idea to carry her with your shoulder.” he was friends with him. Daryl scoffed but your eyes widened and looked to Daryl in shock. Daryl’s annoyed face at Aaron changed when he saw the worried one on yours, “Geez Aaron it was a graze! You’ll scare her talkin’ like that. Y/n don’t listen to him…”

They both were helping you through the woods seemingly to a road. Aaron chuckled as he took a glance to you, “Well to be fair never knew there was a Mrs. Dixon. Be good for her to finally keep you from being reckless.” Daryl scoffed rolling his eyes, the grip on you tightened from him, “Only ever mentioned it to one person, he’ll give me hell for her when we get back.” Daryl also can’t imagine all the rest of his family finding out you even existed. He looked down seeing you slightly amused at how he was acting. He knows he has changed, for the better he thinks. He was finally confident in saying you were right about his true nature all that time ago. He was just a big softie that denied it and put on a sour façade. He looked to Aaron then back to you, “You’ll be in the car with Aaron. Your to injured for my bike.”

You looked to this Aaron guy giving him an unsure look. He smiled to you shyly, “Best we don’t freak out the rest of are people. Those assholes you killed gave us hell and damaged are community.” That surprised you, looking as a road appeared through the trees, you hopped along, “You were out here for them?” You reached the car and Aaron left your side to open the passenger door. Daryl turning to explain, “They carved W in their head calling themselves wolves. Bunch of crazy’s.” He sighed looking past you, “Those two were the last of em. We didn’t want them doing anything else to anyone.” He rubbed your arm before helping you walk to car, “We were a little late for that I guess.” He helped you sit down noticing it was getting a little too dark for his liking. He moved down looking at Aaron in the drivers seat, “We gotta go before we worry people, I’ll lead the way.”

You sat there staring at Daryl as his headlight lit the road. Everything felt like it was moving really fast. The news of those people you killed were worse than you thought gave some justification for your brutality. Who were you kidding you had lost control. Aaron broke the silence in the humming car, “So, Y/n is it?” You glance over to Aaron just giving a hum in reply. He takes your awkward silence just as well as he takes Daryl. He heard you shuffle in your seat before asking, “How long have you known Daryl?” Aaron clocked the really meaning to the question, ‘how trustworthy are you’. Aaron chuckled, “A few months now.” Not long enough in your opinion. Yet Daryl seems so friendly with him? In such a short time? You decide to just ask another thing bothering you.

“What did he mean by he’ll get hell about me?”

Aaron sighed as he looked on to Daryl driving ahead, “Are leader will be a little pissed with bring you back. He is not big on newcomers right now after the recent incident, but you’re Daryl’s wife so not really new know are you.” This leader sounds to have the right idea about people. You fiddle with the ring on your hand, “So me staying is going to take some convincing?” Aaron smiled and nodded while he drove, “Well if anyone could convince him it would be his brother.” His brother is the leader of this place? That can’t be good. Merle was anything but a leader. This community is probably small and on its lasts legs, he did say it was just attacked and very damaged… guess you’ll be back out on the road sooner then you thought.

You looked out the window for the remainder of your ride. Aaron only speaking again when closer to the destination, “So we’re almost there. You should just stay in the car until we can give a heads up of your arrival?” You tilt your head in confusion, “I’m going in the community? Thought you said your leader wasn’t a people person right now?” You had thought you would have to stay behind considering so. Having to wait for some kind of approval. Aaron laughed a little, “Daryl has a fair amount of say. His family trusts him enough to make a call.” You sat there confused again, ‘Family?’ Just his brother? But he said it like there is a fair bit of people in this, ‘Family’. Your contemplating was interrupted when Aaron rolled to a stop. You looked around into the dark not realizing when Aaron turned off the headlights.

Then while Aaron filcked the lights on and off in a pattern you caught glimpses of a huge wall. You sat up in your seat leaning forward as you watched it slide open. Daryl rolled in first then Aaron slowly drove in. The first thing you notice was houses with a few lights on. Electricity? This place was huge… But your eyes were pealed back to Daryl. A group of people seemingly gathering around him seeming worried. Aaron unlocked the door and before getting out mumbled a quick, “Stay here.”

Daryl POV

There orders were to be back way before dark. So when they hadn’t come back it sent everyone in a panic. Not to mention they were already struggling with replacing broken parts of the wall and moving bodies. Rick had become a singled minded man again with Carl almost dying. So he wasn’t surprised when he came marching up to him unhappy about his tardiness, “Where the hell have you both been! We damn near sent people after you.” Daryl brought his hands to his hips, “Assholes are dead, but there is something else-“

“Stay here.”

Rick turned to see Aaron getting out of the car but he also noticed a figure in the passenger seat nodding. Anger flared in him, “I said no more recruiting! Damnit Daryl- put them in the cell!” Daryl was not about to be yelled at. Specially for something as important as this. “Hold the hell up-“ Rick shook his head in annoyance cutting Daryl off, “This is not negotiable!” Before Daryl could blurt out anything a running figure came screaming for Rick. It was Denise, “It’s Carl he is awake and freaking out!” Daryl felt his stomach drop. Rick hesitated in place before pointing to Glenn, “Go put them in the cell!” Then he ran off back to his son. Daryl turned to Glenn, “Nah man! You don’t get it!” Glenn looked to the people next to him before sighing and walking to the car. “Hey! Wait!” Abraham stepped in front of him blocking his path.

He huffed knowing he would have tackled Abraham if he wasn’t trying to be calm about this. “Get the hell out my way.” Then he heard your voice call out, “Uh… Daryl?” Very clear of your anxiety and how you might lash out if you feel in danger. Daryl needed to just had to suck it up, “ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! FINE!” He stepped to the side looking to Glenn, “Your throwing me in with her. Let’s go…” Glenn paused giving him a wide eye expression. Glenn looked back and forth conflicted but sighed and lead you to the cell Morgan just made. Glenn question Daryl on the walk, “Why are you doing this Daryl?” Daryl was walking slightly ahead with you right behind him. You answered for him, “I’m his wife.” A choked cough released from Glenn, “Woah!” Glenn paused looking to him the to you. “What the hell dude! Never said you were married!” Daryl saw they were getting closer to the building and ignored Glenn’s surprise. Glenn sighed, “Well damn now I don’t wanna lock you up.” Glenn walked past you both going down a small incline. He unlocked a door and rubbed at his next, “But Rick said. I’m sure once everything with Carl calms down he will let you out.” Glenn turned to you, “Sorry about this, newcomers is a sensitive thing at the moment.”

Much to Daryl’s dismay you half heartedly chuckled while walking into the room, “To be fair best I be in a cage. I did just brutally murder two men.” Glenn mouth was agape, “uh- what? She’s joking right?” Daryl just shrugged and followed you into the cell. Daryl even closed the door and stuck his arms through the bars before answering. While it was still a new thing to hear you be so… brutal… maybe just badass, he trusted you. “Don’t tell Rick why I’m in here with her. Want to rub it in his face for pissing me off and not listening to me.” Glenn chuckled and shrugged moving to lock the cell door, “If you say so.” You while just being a bystander to this conversation spoke up, “I thought Aaron said your brother was the leader, not this Rick guy?” Glenn started to laugh, “What you thought people would follow a dumbass like Merle?” Daryl squinted his eyes at Glenn… but he wasn’t wrong. Glenn smiled to him, “No offense.” Daryl just rolled his eyes putting his attention to you, “Rick is like a brother to me.”

Your face told him you were bewildered by that statement. Granted he knows back then Merle always through around ‘blood is the only thing we got’ when you both started dating. Maybe you thought he saw it that way to. Glenn was about to go out the door, “Aw, Daryl cares for us!” Before the door closed Daryl shouted back, “Get your head out of your ass ‘walker bait’!” A nickname sure to piss him off. You only looked to me pleased with the reaction. Awe struck in your eyes drew him closer to you. Alone at last, and it seemed you both had some catch up to do.

It was a lot of talking. Sitting against a wall with your hands intertwined. He told you about Merle’s death. How he came to be so friendly with all these people. You started crying and leaned into him. At first he thought you were sad but you were smiling proudly at him. You share your own story’s. Mentioning friends you’ve lost, mostly them all dying, how a few were just gone with you having no clue to how. “Told you I’d make you my husband the next time I saw you…” He felt his throat tightened, he grieved you to the point of acceptance. So having you here and now felt like another type of grieving. To what could have been. But before he could get into it farther an angry Rick stormed down into the cellar. Hand on hip with a baby Judith slumped over his shoulder. A stature of a man trying to show leadership, “What the hell are you doing here Daryl.” Rick’s eyes only glancing over to you for a second. Daryl sat there for a second prolonging the silence. While he couldn’t exactly blame Rick for having to run off before they could talk he should have known damn well he had say. So he glared daggers to Rick.

Rick moved from foot to foot shaking his head again, “Look we can’t go bring anyone in after the shit that happened-“ Daryl stood up waving his hands, “You think I’m stupid? Like I would go and bring someone back if it didn’t mean something?” Daryl stood straight closing in closer to the bars, “Now please go ahead and tell my WIFE! That she isn’t welcome here.” Ricks mouth gapped open, air releasing from his lungs, “T-that’s her!” Rick’s hand moved to his chest while turning to look at you. Daryl also turned around just seeing you nonchalantly resting on the floor.

“You two really do argue like brothers.”

Your eyes not staring at Rick but the baby girl he carried. Daryl’s heart filled with you pushing aside the anger of the situation, because this was supposed to be a happy moment. Daryl turned back to Rick seeming to have calmed down, “Now… you gonna let us out?” Rick started to laugh, Judith perking up to her father’s laughter. “Goddamn dude, I’m happy for ya.” Rick moved for the key in his pocket. Daryl reached out a hand to help you up, a visible limp still present. While walking here you tried to appear un injured, most likely trying not to look like easy pray. You truly were out there for a long time, his group knows what that could do to your mind.

The creaky bared door swings open leaving the little girl to finally met eyes with her uncle. Daryl sighed when he gained the little girls attention. Judith happily giggled while reaching for him. Though he found really hold her if he wanted to help you walk. That’s what drew his attention back to your face. He wasn’t expecting you to be looking at Judith like she was a puppy. Then you sniffled, “She’s so cute.” Rick looked to you while juggling his daughter. The know that sometimes things like Judith keep you going in hard times. But in your hard time you had nothing. So seeing something in this broken world like Judith was definitely pulling something inside you. Daryl though could help but smugly smile up to Rick with a, ‘Just look at m’ girl~.’ Showing off the one he loved at the start to the family he now has.

But damn if it didn’t feel good.

Feedback welcome and requests open! Maybe spin off if this does well and people want more.

[traegorn]

what's ridiculous to me (as a brown, queer woman, first gen, whose family is from the global south, a place these people claim to care about) is how people keep framing anyone who is afraid of trump as a white liberal, because that's the only way to justify their argument. they don't want to reckon with the difficult situation of hating what's going on in gaza but also hating what trump has said he will do here. they insist that anyone who's afraid of trump is "fearmongering" because we "survived" his first term. they assume his second term would be exactly the same as his first, no worse, even though trump and those around him have said they plan to be much more efficient and much more violent this time around.

they talk about mass deportation and that is terrifying, when your family is full of immigrants. but that's not a narrative these (often white) terminally online leftists can deal with so they flatten anyone who's saying to vote anyway because trump is dangerous into a "white liberal", conveniently ignoring the harm that would be done to poc if he comes back into power. me and my family don't have the privilege of pretending he's not that bad, because we'll actually be affected if he wins again.

It's in part because these are largely "online leftists" who don't do any real activism beyond complain online. They're like the douchebags I knew twenty years ago who'd smoke cloves outside the coffee shop talking about theory or the revolution, but do nothing when it comes down to it beyond sit at home on election day.

And that's not actual leftism.

I'm a leftist. I know plenty of actual leftists in real life. Who organize. Who do mutual aid. Who get involved in local government to make a difference. And every single one of them is voting Harris this election. Not because they like her, but because they know they can't move their cause further under a Trump presidency.

Because real, actual political action involves making pragmatic moves. Working towards collective good means putting your own ego aside and doing what you can when you can.

People forget that back in 2016 we were fighting for a better minimum wage and universal healthcare. Instead now we're fighting for female bodied people's rights to autonomy. We went backwards because of Trump's first term, and I'm tired of self important jackasses pretending like we didn't.

These folks don't realize how worse shit can get.

Because if Trump wins again, it's going to.

[fandomnerd9602]

Accident

Actress!Wanda x Reader

Inspired by the film ‘The Fall Guy’

It all happened so fast. The crew had the stunt lined up perfectly. And then it all went south. You were left with a fracture in your spine. Your girlfriend, the famous actress Wanda Maximoff, was there. She witnessed the whole thing. She stayed with you all the way to the hospital and wouldn’t leave your side.

You woke up in immense pain. You could see your starlet of a girlfriend sleeping in the chair next to your bed. You didn’t know how much time passed but it looked like she hadn’t slept well.

Just out of the corner of your eye you could see one of the producers talking into their cell phone.

“Behind schedule…disaster…six months recovery is what they’re saying…she won’t accept the part…”

Would Wanda really give up a game change in her career to stay by your side? Six months was way too long. You couldn’t let her do that. You loved her too much to make her stay by your side.

You knew what you had to do. It would break your heart, shatter it into dust but Wanda meant too much for you to let her sacrifice her career for you. You began to silently weep.

Wanda jolted awake at the sound of your tears. “Detka?!” She leapt practically on you, “it’s okay baby I’m here!! I-I’m so sorry. I-I won’t leave your side til you’re all better”

“No” you whispered back.

“N-No? W-what do you mean?” Wanda began asking.

“Wanda I love you but no.” You tried to say thru your tears. “We have to break—“

“No” she stated firmly.

“No?”

“No. I know why you’re saying that and I won’t let us.” She states. “My career is nothing without you. I am nothing without you with me”

“But six months that’s…”

“You are more important to me than some blockbuster movie, detka” she got real close, mere inches from your lips. “I love you too much to let you go”

“I-I love you too, my super star” you whisper back.

She pelts you with kisses, giggling against your lips.

“I’m here for you” she affirms, “as you’ve been there for me. I want to be there for you.”

“Okay” you answer back.

“Okay” she gives you a weary smile.

The six months were grueling. Therapy, surgeries and the like but you were back on your feet in no time. Wanda was there for you thru it all. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that your movie star was the only woman you wanted to marry.

As for Wanda, the movie got postponed any way, allowing her to board it as soon as you had recovered.

When she got to that movie’s set, you arrived a day or so later, much to her shock, with a ring in hand.

Tags: @lifespectator @ma1egamer @aloneodi @julieromanoff @russianredassassin @revanshand @multi-fandom-enjoyer @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @pinklawyerwinnerzonk