#livvy wc

[nightly-ruse]

At last it is done and I can spill all my thoughts. A bday gift for @spottystyle and of his kittypet Tigerclaw au where she runs away after attacking Bluestar and becomes a kittypet called Catzilla. This is her in the garden with Sasha who stays and becomes her mate in this!!!

Long au thoughts below lol

(BTW Catzilla is a trans kitty using she/her)

While drawing I had so many thoughts. Particularly around how Sasha and Zilla work together and had the idea that maybe before Tiger finds her soon to be owners she is just flitting across the land and while on the run bumps into Sasha who had recently lost her home after her twoleg never come home. The two bond over darker pasts thought Tiger doesn’t share much about her own. But Sash is annoyingly curious. Pushing to know any scrap of knowledge about the mysterious cats story. It is until one night as the stars slightly twinkled above them that Sasha knew what was so scary to share. Scared by what Tiger told her Sasha fled away, running to a place much farther away. Now much more alone then she was before Tiger just walked back, somewhat hoping some group of cats would take her. While walking the streets she did hear a few whispers of some scary cat who controlled the alleys but she didn’t mind. Maybe they’d attack her and she’d finally be done with.

Tiger does find a creature who cares. A kind twoleg who took her in and washed away her fleas. The lifestyle she once mocked now was her own and… she liked it. She was pampered with a pretty collar and bright stuff on her claws. Eventually after a long long while Tiger, now Catzilla meets the cat who left so long ago. And right at her paws were three soft bundles of fluff. Sasha had wandered for a long time but hated it and wanted refuge and by some twist of fate, cruel or joking, led her here. Chatterbox was ecstatic at the new cat in town but they could sense Catzilla not being as thrilled. Eventually the family settles in. Sasha is taken in by the next houses twolegs along with her kits and the two make up. The family’s grown so much already. Catzilla, Chatterbox, Livvy, Sasha, Jinx (Moth), Loki (Hawk), and Spell (Tadpole). Little would she know her kits would run back into the cats she ran from. Her little Loki and Jinx heard some tale from a large group of cats. And Catzilla knew who they were the moment the kits told her about them she told them to never go there. But of course they wouldn’t listen.

Out of story I think Loki and Jinx would check out the newly settled clans and actually kinda love them. Jinx becomes friends with the kind plant cats and learns a lot herself about them, particularly liking to spend time with Leafpaw. But Loki liked the opposite. He’d listen to the stories, hold ever battle tale he heard to heart, eventually begging to join. He named himself Hawkpaw to sound cooler joining Riverclan as a warrior apprentice. Jinx didn’t immediately but she was tempted in by little Leafpaw’s words to learn more, acting as a friend to the cats and occasionally staying for awhile. She does eventually completely join being called Mothwing after the sign that was found to get her to join. Spell stays in town but helps in their own way with the church cats (Spiresight = Tadpole AU). Though Zilla and Sasha’s daughter does come back begging for safety after Moth and Leaf have the three. Idk much later maybe Leafpool still goes back to the clans without the kits and either Catzilla, Chatterbox, Livvy, and Sasha raise the three or Moth stays back and raises them. Eventually bringing them back when she’s told by Leafpool too, having been told that the kits left behind hold the power to save the clans in the harshest fight.

[daetko]

EPICCCCCC okay so can i gett

BEACH VOLLEYBALL ; send me a few characters and i’ll write a drabble of a beach volleyball match between them ( & you!)

i think im gonna put 4 ppl on each team, so for team one i want:

bakugo, mina, ochako, todoroki, and denki

and for team two:

mashirao, iida, midoriya, kirishima, and me!!

i hope i did this right,, i can remove or add characters if need be!!! i tried to make the teams as fair as possible HEHDHE

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⛱️ beach volleyball

⊱ cw ; gn reader (no pronouns mentioned), crack wc 1.2k, not proofread

⊱ a/n ; livvy! hiii sorry for taking a while ! i was on the plane when i wrote this,,,, i hope u like it! i got too carried away with the word count hope that’s ok! thank u for requesting!

⊱ masterlist , event navigation

the sun blazed down on the beach, casting long shadows across the sand as the waves swayed in the background. the air was filled with the sounds of summer—laughter, the distant call of seagulls, and the steady thump of a volleyball being bounced between eager hands.

“come on y/n, let’s go easy on them now so we beat them later” kirishima grinned cockily while a nervous ojiro and midoriya sweat dropped in the back.

Iida stepped in front of you both, looking determined “okay, y/n, kirishima. let’s win fair and square” “no way iidas into it!” “i’m kind of scared now, actually…” a banter between mina and ochaco was heard, as you sighed in relief knowing the tallest and fastest guy on your team was ready. “let’s win this already, damnit!” bakugo’s tsk was followed by a yell, firing his team up. this was going to be fun.

you took your positions, ready and determined. the match started with a powerful serve from bakugo followed by his signature “DIEEEEE!”, which was amazingly dug by ojiro, with bakugo glaring as smoke gushed from his head. “got it!” midoriya called out, confidently jumping to set the ball to you, which you accelerated from your position to spike— but todoroki blocked it. “good job” and “YEAH, ‘ROKI!” were heard from the opposite team as kirishima and iida simultaneously let out a “tsk”.

“It’s only one point! the next one is definitely ours!” ojiro comforted, as ochaco was up to serve next. she took a deep breath, threw the ball in the air, and jumped high—but the serve was out of bounds by barely a millimeter. “you look constipated.” denki joked to a deflated uraraka warning a nape slap from mina. you stifled a giggle as mina patted ochacos back who looked like she was about to throw up.

Iit was iida’s turn to serve, and he looked every bit as confident as you’d expect from the class president. taking a few steps back, he tossed the ball high and launched himself into the air, spiking it with unbelievable speed. the ball hit the opposite court hard— earning your team a well-deserved point. cheers erupted around you as iida landed, teammates hyping him up with grins and shouts.

now, it was your turn. your eyes locked with bakugo’s, who was glaring daggers your way, making your heart skip a beat. but you shook it off, took a deep breath, and tossed the ball just a foot into the air. with a flat hand, you hit it—a float serve that was notoriously tricky to dig. even though Mina managed to get under it, the ball wobbled in the air, making their spike attempt sloppy. kirishima quickly blocked it, securing another point.

the match continued, and before you knew it, the score was 24-23, with the opposing team just one point away from winning the set. sweat dripped down your face, and the sound of heavy breaths and the scrape of sandy feet filled the tense air— the continuous glances between your teammates eased up the pressure in the air but with the opposition being a point ahead and at set point made the tension unbearable. midoriya leaped into the air, slapping the ball with a cupped hand, todoroki receiving it and mina quickly set it up for a focused uraraka, who sent it flying toward denki. he went for the spike, which got blocked by iida. the ball ricocheted off his hands, but Bakugo, now face-first on the floor, somehow managed to keep it in play.

As long as the ball was in the air, there was still hope.

uraraka set it for mina, who managed to get a spike in. that’s the first set with a win to the opposite team. everyone dropped to the floor to catch their breath, dismissing the celebration till later. after getting up, you took a 15 minute break and the second set started.

the tension in the air was thick, everyone fully aware that the next set would determine the match. after the short break, both teams returned to the court refreshed, though the exhaustion was evident in the way they moved.

denki, grinning despite the exhaustion, bounced the volleyball in his hand as he approached the serving line. “alright, round two, ready to get your ass beat?”

you rolled your eyes and scoffed, “don’t think about it too much before your brain short circuits dummy” you earned a tsk from the blonde

the ball flew over the net with surprising speed, but this time, ojiro was ready— he dug the ball up effortlessly, sending it flying to iida, who set it up perfectly for you. with adrenaline pumping through your veins you jumped, your hand meeting the ball at the perfect moment. the satisfying smack echoed through the air as the ball flew past todoroki’s outstretched arms, landing just inside the boundary line.

“YEAHH!” you shouted, your teammates cheering you on.

the game continued, each point hard-fought. bakugo, as expected, played with an intensity that seemed like he would murder someone anytime now, his determination to win unwavering as every move he made became harsher. but your team was ready and expectant, matching your opponents point for point.

before long, the score was tied at 24-24, the final set in a deadlock. two more points and the winner will be decided. your classmates that had gathered around the makeshift court watched with excitement and cheers as you all were ready to win.

“let’s finish this,” kirishima muttered, breathless, clapping a hand on your shoulder. you nodded, focusing all your energy on the ball in front of you. the serve came over the net, spinning wildly. midoriya dove for it, barely managing to keep it in play. the ball sprang up, and a serious ojiro set it high into the air. you glanced towards the ball in the air, knowing this was up to the boy you have high expectations from; both you and iida jumped with a hand raised, but you knew the ball was going towards the boy with the glasses— and he did not disappoint—with all the strength he could muster, he slammed the ball down with a powerful spike, that sailed past the blockers and hit the sand with a thud, earning your team a point. set point it was now, with your classmates cheering both teams up.

midoriya sighed as he stepped towards the serving line, serving a long ball which was received by ochaco who sent it to todoroki, setting it to denki ? bakugo ? both of them flew up at the same time but the ball was too long to go to denki who’s closer to the setter. taking notice of this, you sprung off the heels of your feet and jumped towards where bakugo was coming from, blocking him completely, as the ball hit the sand and your hand bent backwards.

for a moment, there was silence. and then, the beach exploded in cheers, your team got the set back! your teammates gathered around as you celebrated your set win, ending the game with a 1-1 score— a tie, but atleast you didn’t lose.

Or so you thought.

“third set starts in 15 minutes everyone!” iida yelled as he walked towards the bench with water. You sighed.

A whistle was heard, and you took your positions as the tie breaker set started

[rxqueenotd]

The Girl Next Door part V

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, age gap, affairs, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, my improper use of commas, pure angst, mention of politics.

A/N: For the four people that read this, thank you so much. I almost scrapped this fic earlier this week (the full moon really had me in a full blown tizzy) but this chapter poured out of me at six AM this morning. (Y’all want me to make a tag list? Would that make life easier?)

WC: 1811

“You’re twenty-two?” He hung over my shoulder, watching with darting eyes as I filled out each line of the necessary paperwork for employment through the university.

“I feel like that should’ve been a prerequisite question, don’t you?” I looked back at him and shrugged with an alarmed look on my face.

“Is it my turn to ask if you’re legal?” I joked, watching as he crossed the kitchen and made his way over to the refrigerator.

“To be fair, I estimated you were around that age.” He grabbed the carton of orange juice and turned around towards the drying rack, plucking two wine glasses out, filling them with orange juice.

“Estimations aren’t exact.” I grabbed the glad he slid in my direction and lowered my eyes, “Not very careful of you.”

“They ID’d you at the restaurant, genius,” he shot back at me, “I’m observant.”

I slid the finished paper over to him. He picked it up, skimming the details as he sipped his orange juice.

“Luciano?” He glanced down at the paper and back at me, “That’s your last name?”

I shrugged, “What about it?”

“You’re one bad joke away from joining the mafia.”

“You’re one more insult away from waking up with a severed horse head in your bed.” I countered as I poured the remaining orange juice into the sink and rinsed out the glass.

He narrowed his eyes at me, following my eyeline as I idled about the kitchen, pretending I was focused on anything but him.

“Godfather one or two?” He asked.

“You hardly know me well enough to ask those types of questions.” It was easy to feign innocence when I wasn’t directly looking at him.

“HA!” He bellowed, “That’s rich considering the events of last night,” He laughed again, “You’re funny.”

“Now you’re turning pink.” He cocked his head to the side and lowered his eyes, “Don’t get all shy on me now, Livvy.”

“I’m not shy,” even with my proclamation, I still couldn’t look him in the eye, “I’m still processing it.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” he mocked with an eye roll,“Should we call a priest? Your therapist?”

“We could call your wife.”

That garnered the reaction I so desperately craved. A little hint of something boiling under the surface threatened to spill over and I waited with baited breath for him to tear into me. In a sick way, I anticipated it. Any crack in the surface to reveal his true nature, or anything of the sort. Something real, something I could latch onto. My own personal souvenir to remind myself that, like me, he was actually human. For a while, he had been a caricature to me. A walking trope actualized in the way he bantered with me, stared at me through his long eyelashes, existed within the confines of my home, my job, my dock. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a reckless driver, previously taught at a high school in Roslyn, liked two lemons in his ice water, and that he had an entire wife and a life so far removed from mine that he may as well have lived on Mars.

I itched for him to ask me my LSAT score, my favorite color, what fucked up series of events had led me to seek sexual gratification from my married neighbor with whom I shared a twenty year age difference.

It was at this very moment, I realized I was never built to be regarded as casual. In other words, being someone’s dirty secret only took care of the gap between my legs, my heart and ego bearing the brunt of his casual coolness.

I grabbed the form from his grip and held it closely to my chest.

“If there’s going to be an issue with us working so closely, I don’t want this job. I’m still technically employed at The Marina.”

He was quick to grab it back from me. A look of disapproval flashed across his face.

“We’re good, Olive.” He moved closer to me, patting me reassuringly on the shoulder.

I nodded, listening as his footfalls echoed from the entryway as he made his way to the front door.

I wish I had the restraint to walk away from him as easily as he walked away from me.

_________________________________________

A day later, we made the trip to the university together. A bad choice on my part, I know, but I genuinely enjoyed his company.

He didn’t seem to mind my company, nor did he seem to mind my stealing the occasional glance at him. A look of approval colored his features as he looked over at me while waiting at a stoplight.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just looking at you, Olive.”

“Well, don’t.”

That earned me a chuckle as the light turned green.

Getting approval from the university was child’s play. My fingerprints were clean, my background untarnished, my last name garnering enough attention from the hiring office that the job was offered to me on the spot. Turns out I didn’t need his help after all. Though I’d never admit it aloud, I appreciated his offer, flattering myself despite the obvious manipulative undertones both of us were well aware of when the job was offered, considered, and taken.

“You could have told me your grandfather is the district attorney for Manhattan, for Christ’s sake.” He spoke lowly as we walked back to his car.

He opened the door for me and I slid into the passenger's seat, watching as he skulked to the driver’s side and climbed in.

“Is there anything else I should know?” He asked, eyebrows piqued.

“Part two,” I said, and he looked at me confusedly, “The Godfather.”

“Right.” he chuckled, “Are we friends now, Livvy?”

“No, actually,” I rolled the window down, tipping my hand in the wind.

“We’re colleagues.”

_________________________________________

The second mistake I made that day was going over to his house to discuss lesson plans as well as his teaching preferences.

“No fancy transitions, no bubbly text, no stupid pictures,” he told me as he clicked through an example of one of his PowerPoint presentations.

“These are college students, not kindergarteners.”

‘Poli Sci 408- The American Presidency,’ his syllabus read, with a brief introductory statement framing the coursework: This subject describes the types, functions and roles of the Chief Executive, personal administration, administrative corruption, financial administration and administrative improvement.

“No fun in Professor Mencken’s class,” I mockingly saluted him, “I got it.”

Only later would I realize how ironic it had been to stand in the future president’s kitchen discussing the details of his class, which included administrative corruption, given the nature of our relationship.

When he left me alone at his laptop to click through his lesson plans, I did anything but that. I glanced around the kitchen and adjoining living room, my curious feet carrying me to the entryway. No colors, no personal style, no signs of life in the living space. The style screamed avoidant. Like he could pick up his stuff in one go and run out the door at any given moment.

What caught my eye the most, though, was the photo on the fireplace’s mantle. A wedding photo of him and his wife framed in plated gold with the words ‘From This Moment On’ etched into the bottom of the frame in flowing cursive.

I picked it up, my fingertips gliding gently across the glass as I inspected the photo. The refined ball gown she wore with its basque bodice dripping onto the tulle skirt met with a shirred waistline, all made of matte satin throughout. The delicate V back coming to a halt with a simple bow, the chapel length train trailing behind her as they gazed adoringly at one another. He could have been standing there completely naked in the photo and I still would have only noticed how her delicate collarbones peaked through from under the high scoop neckline. Her face, her timeless American beauty. Brunette hair down to her chin, curled under at the ends, framed neatly with a headpiece at the crown of her head. Her veil flowing gently in, what I imagined to be, the summer breeze.

Suddenly I was a little girl again, gazing through the storefront window on Madison Avenue as an elated bride-to-be twirled around in front of the floor length mirror, surrounded by her friends.

Mrs. Mencken was now as real to me as that woman had been. My guilt now had a face.

I slid the frame back onto the mantle and turned around, smacking right into Jeryd’s chest.

“Do you still want to call her?”

I shook my head vehemently, swallowing audibly as I looked up at him.

His face remained calm as he blinked down at me expectantly, his eyebrow sloping at the arch.

He fucked me hard against the wall after that. My legs wrapped around his waist like a noose when he hoisted me up and took me right there in his living room. A reward, I guessed, for not spilling my guts on his carpet or to his wife. In all reality, I had wanted him to fuck me. To break the code of professionalism that we had agreed on previously. I had dressed for the occasion, silently pretending a skirt with no panties was an innocent choice when he pulled it up to rest on my hips. The entire time, my head rested in the crook of his neck, my eyes burning holes through the photo that rested innocently in its rightful place on their mantle. I held onto him for dear life as he fucked into me, slowly coming to a halt as he pulled back to look into my eyes.

“Don’t do that.” He said, lowly chastising my wandering mind. “Don’t make it personal.”

I wanted to ask him what the fuck life is if it’s not personal but I stayed silent.

He brought his left hand to rest on my cheek as he balanced our weight against the wall. The coldness of his wedding band felt like something akin to holy water on the flesh of the possessed.

“Take it off,” I pleaded with him. He was confused by my outburst, his eyes narrowing down at me.

When I slid his finger into my mouth, the cold metal gripped between my teeth, he got the message. It pooled under my tongue briefly before I spit it onto the floor. The ring landed with a soft thud right in front of the rug on the fireplace.

He didn’t look away from me when he resumed his pace. Each time I tried to avert my gaze, he quite literally jerked my chin back to look directly at him.

I wanted to ask him if that was his idea of not making it personal.

But I didn’t.

[merrock]

Would Rudy Pankow be wanted as a FC here? I was kind of eyeing the Hartman brother wanted connection. Would he work for that or another wanted connection?

Hey there, anon!

I absolutely don't see why not -- we've never had a Rudy Pankow face claim in the group before, so he'd be a fresh and new choice, and if you have the muse for him, go for it!

As Livvy's player, I would love for you to fill the wanted connection as the Hartman brother (and I'm sure Erin, our Mandy player feels the same way)! The only thing we require is someone born after the year 1990, and he meets that, so it'd be a great fit.

If you change your mind and don't want to pick up the connection, please let me know and I can comb through our WC list to help you out with any others! xx

[valdezhqs]

welcome to valdez livvy & anna please send in your account within 24 or the face claim halston sage, phoebe tonkin, jessica de gouw, & arden cho  will be reopened. also please complete this checklist.

{halston sage; demiwoman; she/they} hey isn’t that LEIGHTON SINCLAIR? the 28 year old WEREWOLF and a song that plays when you see them is DUMB BLONDE by AVRIL LAVIGNE & NICKI MINAJ. They are known to be CHARMING and SELFISH. They have been in VALDEZ for THEIR ENTIRE LIFE and always remind me of calculating looks behind cat-eyed sunshades, the clink of champagne glasses, sarcasm with a crimson smile, and karma coming for your enemies. what secrets will they discover? [livvy, 26, cst, she/her, n/a] ***jasper’s younger sibling wc

{jessica de gouw; cis female; she/her} hey isn’t that CHARLOTTE ROWE? the 33/ 534 year old VAMPIRE with the ability of PAIN ILLUSION and a song that plays when you see them is GODS & MONSTERS by LANA DEL REY. They are known to be CHARMING and RETICENT. They have been in VALDEZ for A WEEK and always remind me of restless nights, cold hands, wandering aimlessly, lace and silk. what secrets will they discover? [anna, 32, awst, she/they, sexual assault, rape]

{phoebe tonkin; cis female; she/her} hey isn’t that HELENA CARLISLE? the 30/1000+ year old FALLEN ANGEL and a song that plays when you see them is KING by FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE. They are known to be ASTUTE and RECKLESS. They have been in VALDEZ for A YEAR and always remind me of reliving the same day over and over again, the first hint of dusk, constant dark circles beneath hazel eyes, the scratch of vinyl records. what secrets will they discover? [anna, 32, awst, she/they, sexual assault, rape]

{arden cho; cis female; she/her} hey isn’t that DELILAH KIM? the 33 year old WITCH and a song that plays when you see them is GRAVEYARD by HALSEY. They are known to be CREATIVE and IMPULSIVE. They have been in VALDEZ for TWENTY YEARS and always remind me of oversized hoodies, messy buns, ripped skinny jeans, surfaces covered in worn fantasy books. what secrets will they discover? [anna, 32, awst, she/they, sexual assault, rape]

[sw1mmingfoolz]

✨ cake - lee donghyuck (haechan) ✨

requested? Y/N - '*cracks knuckles* let's do this // pairing: reader x haechan // prompts: 24, 30, 77, 84 // - livvie (who is looking forward to this') - @crimsoncauldron

a/n: thanks for requesting lovely! i hope i did it justice, honestly i suck at keeping my work concise this isn't even a drabble LMAO 😭 also not well versed in e2l so... here's hoping you like it uwu :) mad i can't add my usual 3 aesthetics because tumblr is being SO fucky wucky rn, i have tried to post this a million times already the readmores refuse to work rn too so. tumblr fix ur shit pls!!! feedback is always very appreciated! 💕💕💕

wc: 4.3k

genre: e2l, angst, fluff

pairing: haechan x gn!reader

content warnings: me being unable to not include cocky characters, swearing, mentions of toxic parents/family dynamics

24. “you’re safe with me, i’m here to protect you.”

30. “stop pretending you’re okay, ‘cause i can see that you’re not.”

77. enemies to lovers

84. college!AU

“You know 99% is like, ridiculously good, right?” Jaemin asked with furrowed brows as you shot daggers at your returned paper, looking for where you dropped a mark. Upon getting no answer your best friend elbowed you sharply in the upper arm, causing you to yelp and turn your glare on him instead.

“It’s not 100, therefore it’s not good enough,” you huffed, to which he rolled his eyes.

“Your expectations for yourself are way too high. Some might say impossible,” Before you could think of a snarky retort you caught sight of the last person you wanted to at this moment opposite you in the hall. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being there; your lockers faced each other after all, but his laid back smile as he showed everyone his perfect paper boiled a fury in the pit of your stomach you absolutely despised. Jaemin followed your raging eyes to Donghyuck and sighed, slamming his own locker shut and startling you.

“You’re so unsubtle it hurts. Why are you so mad at him for doing well?” He asked, glancing back at the small group of friends surrounding the ever-so-slightly older male. You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away so as to not get caught staring.

“I’m not. I’m mad at him for being a cocky asshole about it,” you grumbled, pitching your voice down the best you could to mimic his speech. “I don’t even like science, I didn’t even study for this.” Jaemin snorted at your incredibly far off impression and shrugged his shoulders.

“I dunno, Yn, if I got 100% on tests I didn’t study for I’d be cocky about it as well.”

“And I’d probably hate you for it too,” you shot back, shoving your paper into your locker and as such the back of your mind. “I’m hungry, buy me lunch?”

“Buy your own lunch, freeloader!”

It was a cycle you were used to, though not enough to stop being surprised when seeing Donghyuck made flames erupt in your stomach and dance their way up to your throat, acrid and bitter. Sure, it was probably rather one sided, for he barely acknowledged your presence, but there was nothing you hated more than his attitude. He rolled up to class only to be a distraction the whole time, wearing his invisible ‘class clown’ badge with pride, bragged constantly about how he never even needed to study (not that he had the time, with choir, dance club and football), and managed to score perfectly on literally everything he did. In a way your internalised rivalry drove you, furious graphite scribbles and messy notes consuming your evenings with his arrogant expression and smug smirk etched into the grooves of your brain. But you also knew it wasn’t exactly healthy, nor sustainable, and Jaemin was tired of greeting you outside every morning to find you having not eaten in over half a day, running on three hours of sleep and a sugar free Redbull with deep purple bags permanently camping in the skin beneath your eyes. There was only so much he could scold you - he wasn’t your mother as well as he fit the role - but your actual mom’s nagging was just as ineffective, if not moreso. Your actual mother’s nagging went in the completely opposite direction.

You were nothing but your grades, and it had been ingrained into you from a young age. How well you did directly affected your family and their status - and you were not to embarrass them by being a failure. Anything below 100% was indicative of your slacking, or worse, ineptitude, and it burned you to embers, stifled under the smoke of envisioned success. But even Jaemin didn’t know this, constant excuses keeping him from ever setting foot in your house, your strict curfew being the extent of his knowledge of your home life at all. You weren’t one to be a burden, after all.

Even the way Donghyuck strolled into class annoyed you. His shoulders back and head high, greeting everyone with a wide smile, you hated how ridiculously easy he had it. He noticed you looking at him and gave you a grin and a nod, which you strained yourself to return. Hell if you’d let him know how you actually felt, although you would be surprised if he’d never felt the intensity of your eyes boring holes into the back of his skull when he was nearby. Chemistry, again, his supposed least favourite subject (joining the other sciences), but one he was so incessantly successful in that there might as well have been no one else in the class. That is, in your professor's eyes. Chest heaving with the irritation at it all, you almost missed her informing the class of a partnered project worth a big chunk of your grade, and as such when Donghyuck turned around in his seat to face you your first emotion was pure confusion. He avoids me, and I like it that way.

“Guess we’re partners,” he flashed you such a confident smile it made your stomach churn, his legs kicking under the desk gaily. You swallowed thickly, unable to stop a small frown contorting your face.

“What?”

“Were you not listening? We’re partners!” his cheery expression didn’t falter as he explained to you, and you knew your face was reddening against your will when you felt it heat up. You didn’t know why exactly you wanted to burst into tears, but it hit you so strongly you had to excuse yourself, running to lock yourself in a bathroom stall down the hall and leaning against the door. You put your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your breathing, tears brimming in your eyes as the overwhelm you refused to let yourself feel hit you all at once. You felt the universe was against you - now you had to see his horrendous work ethic up close, probably put in twice as much effort as he did, and probably watch him sail by on an impressively perfect grade while you were left in the “almost there but just not good enough” limbo of 99%. Your fists clenched and you resigned yourself to the tears, letting them streak your face as silently as you could manage as you stared at the ceiling.

You didn’t let yourself feel weak for long, as you knew it would be suspicious. You splashed cool water on your face, waiting to be a little less puffy before you walked back into the classroom and took your seat again, however it seemed nothing escaped him as his eyes flickered over your face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’m Yn, by the way,” you said, voice made even with great effort, realising you still hadn’t introduced yourself.

“I know.” That grin again. “I’m-”

“Donghyuck, I know,” you returned, flashing him the most self assured smile you could conjure. He nodded before pulling his notebook from the bench in front of him, pen readied in his hand.

“When are you available? My schedule tends to be pretty packed but we have to find some time to work on this, so,”

“Ah, so you’re not just going to leave me to do it all myself?” The remark slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you knew you sounded crazy, especially when you caught Jaemin glaring at you from the other end of your bench. Donghyuck blinked at you, confused, before laughing awkwardly.

“No, I hate people who do that in group projects. Do Tuesday afternoons work for you? We can start tomorrow if so, maybe go to the cafe off campus or something. Guessing you don’t want a stranger in your house,” he chuckled. You nodded.

“They don't even want their best friend in their house,” you heard Jaemin mutter under his breath, feeling his eyes on you.

“Tuesday is fine. The cafe is fine, too,” you said, ignoring your best friend.

“Well then. That’s… fine then.” his smile was softer now as he wrote 'tuesday afternoons' down. “Do you wanna exchange Katalk IDs? For arrangements and all that stuff.” Again you agreed, and as he sorted out the basics you hoped he didn’t notice how badly your brain had frozen upon having to actually speak to the man you had hated from afar for the better part of a year already. He did, but he didn’t say a word.

You wished Tuesday wouldn’t come, for Monday to become Wednesday somehow, or maybe for you to die suddenly in your sleep. But in spite of your own dramatism the days continued as usual, and you found yourself perched on a tall stool opposite him at an equally tall table, freshly made hot drink leaving a small sheen of moisture on your chin as you hovered your face over it. He had insisted on paying, for some reason.

“So I say we go with the caffeine from waste tea and coffee experiment because the project is pretty simple, it’s been done a hundred times before…” He spoke somewhat passionately for a subject he claimed to hate, pen never seeming to leave his hand. You quickly learned that he made a note of everything, no matter how miniscule seeming. They were neat and sometimes colour coded in highlighter. You looked down at your own chicken scratch and urged the ground to swallow you up before you had to take a second more of sitting across from him. Your chest felt heavy and you had no idea how you got through the entire hour you’d scheduled together, drink long forgotten until the end where you chugged it down cold in the hopes of relieving how dry your mouth felt. You’d lost count of how many times he’d asked if you were feeling ill, which you could only consider faux concern. You didn’t know why, though, as you were the only person who seemed to indulge in any kind of disdain for the other. Donghyuck was positively ambivalent, which you supposed was normal to say you had barely spoken at all before being partnered up.

“So, what’s your deal?” He asked, and you felt a chill wash over you. You were that easily read?

“What do you mean?” You tried to keep your voice steady, fidgeting with the pen in your hands.

“Like, where are you from, what do you wanna be in the future, all the basic stuff.” He beamed at you, oddly encouraging, yet the tension in your shoulders did not ease. He's trying to get to know me?

“Well, I moved to Seoul a few years ago, and at the moment chemical engineering is what I’m most interested in. So I’m pretty excited for this project. We relocated because of my dad’s job. Uh, I’m best friends with Jaemin, who is also in our class…” You didn’t know why you were struggling to find things to say - you had your hobbies and interests, plenty of them even - but you felt as if your head were spinning. “I’m a little boring, I guess,”

“I don't think so. Chemical engineering, that’s pretty cool. I can’t wrap my head around the sciences, I’m only even taking this course because-” He stopped himself mid sentence, looking away awkwardly and opting to sip from his iced americano instead. “Well anyway, we moved because of my dad’s job too. Technically. I was born in Seoul but we moved to Jeju for a few years when I was a kid.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Jeju is really pretty.”

“It is! I miss it sometimes, but Seoul is cool too. Better for good schools, I guess,” he chuckled. His pen twirled between his fingers, eyes constantly alternating between looking at you and the table, his demeanour a weird mix of timid and overly assured. You hated that you felt drawn to him, wanting to know more, wanting to know why he stopped himself from telling you why he took this course.

You didn’t mention it.

Next Tuesday seemed to come faster than the last, and the next even moreso, with a month passing in a blur of weekly meetings (and once biweekly), stolen glances at one another that definitely did not hold the same emotion, and his neat little notes preparing for the actual experiment. This particular Tuesday, you wished you’d at least applied concealer or something to make yourself look a little more alive, time flying from you during the night and dissipating in the white glow of your laptop screen. You had not slept.

You’d arrived and seated yourself before he did, a small clink meeting your ears as he placed a plate before you. A slice of cake sat on the delicate china, simple but pretty, your usual drink order following it.

“Cake?” You asked dumbly, brain seeming to have forgotten all words and replaced them with static. He smiled as he slid into the seat opposite you, producing his usual note taking supplies from his backpack.

“You look like you haven’t eaten much. I wanted to get you something a bit more proper but I don’t know what you like,” The ice you’d solidified your heart in seemed to melt a little, eyes softening with it.

“That’s really thoughtful, thank you,” you mumbled as you began eating it, consciously trying to look as graceful as you could as you wished you could shove the whole thing in your mouth in one go. You hadn’t realised how ravenous you really were, well accustomed to ignoring the growling monster of your stomach.

“I have time after this if you’ll let me treat you to lunch?” he asked nonchalantly, not looking up at you as he did. His mannerisms were shy, but somehow he still exuded more confidence than you thought you ever had. Ever the enigma.

“Why?”

“Because you need to eat better,” he scoffed, looking up at you this time. You frowned, shaking your head.

“No, I mean, why are you so nice to me?”

“You haven’t given me any reason not to be?” He looked confused, and suddenly the usually comforting background chatter and coffee machine noises seemed way too deafening. You cast your gaze down to your hands resting at the table.

“I mean, I haven’t exactly liked you much,”

“I caught you glaring at me a few times but I thought it was just a coincidence? I figured we were getting along quite well,”

“I mean, yeah, but no…" he looked more confused and you sighed in frustration, running a hand through your hair and meeting his gaze with every shred of will you could conjure. "I’ve found myself hating you so much it makes my blood feel like it’s genuinely boiling,” You admitted quietly, feeling suddenly extremely small as the man who had shown you nothing but amicability made no effort to hide his dropped jaw. His eyes watched you carefully, evidently not sure of what to say.

“W…why?” Everything in his body urged him to leave, to just accept that you did not feel anywhere near the same about him as he did you, ears burning. He felt stupid for thinking you were giving him the same energy as he had been you. Maybe your backstory was all fake, fabricated for the sake of being friendly, he thought, watching you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I just,” you sighed deeply, hands worrying at each other. “This is going to sound really pathetic.”

“I want to hear it,” he urged, and you understood, for if someone you’d been working closely with and sharing pretty affable casual conversation with for a month suddenly admitted to hating you that much you’d want to know their reason too.

“I just despise how easy you have it,” you murmured, words straining to escape your throat. You knew how bitter they were, and you knew you probably sounded a little crazy, but you’d already started now. Might as well let the mask fall.

“Easy?” he repeated, eyes narrowing at you. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re just so laid back about everything! You’re constantly distracting in classes, brag every time we have a test or assignment about how you don’t even study, and you still have perfect grades? And you’re in a bunch of clubs, and everyone likes you,” you realised you were rambling and bit down on your tongue slightly, eyes threatening to water again. “You just always struck me as a cocky asshole, I guess,” you finished, a good ending blow to knock the wind out of his sails. He sat, astonished, before his face contorted into a mix of anger and disappointment you didn’t think he was capable of.

“So, you took me for a cocky asshole while making a bunch of assumptions? Never spoke to me or got to know me, just decided who I was and how I have it?” He all but spat his words, packing away his notebook and his pens with a little too much fervour. He slammed a few 1000 won notes in front of you, face hot with rage, and your eyes swam. “Get something to eat, and talk to me when you’ve come to your senses. For your information, I have it far from easy, but you don’t get to judge me regardless.” He stormed out of the cafe as you stared at the money in front of you. As if he’s still buying me lunch.

You stared at your chatroom with Donghyuck solemnly, guilty swirling within you like a storm. It had been a few days and he was occupying your mind like it were his home, while avoiding you like the plague at school. Most of your messages were sending one another TikToks you found funny, random memes, and scheduling your Tuesday meets, but one message stood out over the rest.

hyuck: you’re so much cooler than I ever imagined, lol :)

He’d admitted he never paid you much attention because of how quiet you were but called you cute, and openly stated he admired your passion for the subject. You had started feeling quite lucky he was your partner - Jaemin had been left doing the brunt of his project as his partner was way more consumed by a party lifestyle that allowed little time for actual academics, his complaining sitting unanswered in your notifications bar. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you found yourself typing, then backspacing, then typing again, then backspacing again.

It took an hour to finally send a message; half of the time spent writing it and the other half spent with your thumb teasing at the send button, heart attempting to break free of your ribcage. Donghyuck’s phone lit up as the Katalk notification sounded, dragging his attention from the notes he’d continued poring over in your absence.

you: can we meet? i fucked up, and i owe you an apology and an explanation. if you’ll hear them

He hesitated in answering, watching his phone screen as if he expected it to tell him the answer. He was hurt by your admission and upset that he'd thought you were actually beginning to get rather close, but he was also one for actual communication. He rolled his eyes and typed quickly.

hyuck: cafe, tomorrow.

The air was so heavy it slumped your shoulders as you sat across from an empty seat, having arrived early on purpose. A cake, the same he'd gotten you a few days prior, sat next to an iced coffee, and your fingers drummed impatiently at the smooth wood as your breath raced. You didn't see him arrive, as you were staring down at your lap, however his presence was always one you could feel. It was usually warm and inviting, but at that moment, it was careful and untrusting, making nausea rise in your stomach. You sipped your own drink in silence.

"Cake?"

"A peace offering," you smiled weakly, gesturing for him to sit down. "Look, I know I fucked up, and I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been so quick to make assumptions, it just always looked like you were sailing through and it made me feel so… inadequate," your eyes were anywhere but his, avoidant and skittish, while he watched you speak intently. He sighed before forking some of the cake into his mouth, chewing slowly deliberately.

"Well, I accept your apology, because to me it seems you're under so much stress you projected it onto me," he poked his fork in your direction, scattering a few crumbs on the table's surface. You blinked slowly, unable to believe he'd read you so well. You then remembered the psych elective you'd both had together.

"I'm fine, honestly. I was just being an asshole,"

"Yn," his voice was stern, eyes dark and serious. “Stop pretending you’re okay, because I can see that you’re not.” You gulped at his words, not expecting them to hit you as hard as they did, as your eyes started to well up. He moved a hand to place it over one of yours on the table, a gesture that shocked you.

"You're still so nice to me," you sobbed, mildly embarrassed but too upset to care much. His expression was soft and sad, silently urging you to unburden yourself to him. "You're right. My grades are basically my worth, in my parents eyes. If I don't do well, I get kicked out. My entire life is studying, I am constantly neglecting myself, and it has made me way more bitter than I'd wanted to admit. I saw how laid back you were and it made me feel jealous. I wanted that. I want to laugh freely and coast through my courses, but I can't. I am just suffocating, constantly," It all came gushing out before you could restrain yourself, tears flowing just as unabated. You hardly noticed as he stood up to move to the seat next to you, warm arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you into his shoulder to cry, hidden from the curious gazes of other cafe goers.

After a while you were reduced to sniffles, head throbbing dully and breathing ragged. You did feel a little lighter, though. "I'm sorry if I ruined your shirt," you sniffed, to which he chuckled lightly.

"They're just tears, Yn, they'll wash out," You smiled and he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, so gently you barely felt them. You blinked up at him sadly, and he swore he felt his heart break.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I don't think I ever hated you, I just hated my situation and needed a target,"

"I know," he murmured, a hand coming up to brush fingers through your hair rather clumsily. "It's okay, I forgive you. I really did feel we were getting pretty close, though,"

"We were! I mean, I'm honestly quite fond of you, even if I do still think you're a bit cocky," you jibed, poking his ribs a little.

"At least I'm not an asshole this time," he grinned. "And I really meant it when I said I don't have it easy. That time I stopped myself, I was scared of oversharing, but since you've allowed yourself to be so vulnerable with me…" he trailed off, voice small, and you took his hand and squeezed it.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I'm happy to listen," you encouraged, earning a gentle nod.

"My clubs are all that keep me sane. I really do despise the sciences, but I take them because my dad makes me. I kinda rely on him for tuition and all," You blinked at him as you processed what he told you, your gradually fading guilt coming back to punch you in the gut with a vengeance. You really had it all wrong.

"I know how that feels," you frowned, lower lip jutting out a little at the thought of him feeling the same pressure you'd been drowning in for so long.

"It's not easy for me to do well. I actually study like a maniac behind the scenes, but you can't tell anyone that," he giggled, and you rolled your eyes.

"Your secret is safe with me!"

"We have more in common than I realised," he hummed, hand still comforting in your hair. He was surprisingly tender in his movements, and coupled with the weight of your crying session it was enough to begin lulling you to sleep. You felt it hit you in strong waves, however you fought them, blearily blinking at Donghyuck. "Now we've sorted that out, I feel like you need sleep," he chuckled. "But Yn?"

"Yeah?"

"That time I asked to buy you lunch… maybe we can still do that? Like, as a date?"

"A date?" you were so stunned it brought you back a little more to the realm of the awake. He'd spent weeks falling for you, and you were too caught up in your own judgement to notice?

"Yeah, I mean. I really like you, and our little cafe hang outs. I'd love to get to know you even better, if you'll let me?" You watched his face, finding him nothing but genuine, before nodding, leaning against his shoulder as fatigue continued to batter your body.

"I'd love that, Donghyuck. You're quite the catch yourself, y’know," your speech was slightly slurred, making him giggle into your hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, careful in case he was crossing a line, and when you hummed in contentment he allowed you a stronger one before helping you to your feet.

"Let me take you home, sleepyhead," he teased, supporting you as you all but slumped entirely against him. "You're gonna have to at least show me the way, though,"

"My mom is gonna be pissed that I'm wasting precious studying time on a man," you groaned, making him laugh loudly.

"That's okay, I'll fight your mom," You snorted at his serious sounding joke, though his next words immediately softened you, heart suddenly soaring because of the one man you thought you'd find yourself repelled by forever. “You’re safe with me, I'm here to protect you.”

[brokencrownsrp]

ACCEPTED ! the courts welcome annara frey please send a raven forth in the next 24 hours. ( phoebe dynevor is now taken )

⤷ ( livvy. gmt-3. 20. she/her. ) the courts offer bread and salt to ANNARA FREY of HOUSE FREY. many say that the TWENTY-FOUR year old LADY of THE CROSSING is known to be SINCERE and AMBITIOUS, though ill tongues whisper that SHE is PESSIMISTIC and UNFORGIVING. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of sparkling blue eyes that look deep into your soul, witnessing things not meant for your age, a deep bond between family that is fading away with time, delicate fingers playing a melancholic tune on the harp, a mischief grin when robbing jelly tarts from the kitchens followed by a loud and joyful laugh and charming everyone with your smile. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns. ( fc: phoebe dynevor ) / lothar frey’s child wc

[wafflesandkruge]

The Loss of the Sun (Blackstairs)

Was digging through my wips (lol) and realized I never posted the QOAAD canon-divergent fanfic I promised. So here ya go. This is for you, anon. :)

(I’m not sure it feels done yet, but I think I’m unlikely to keep working on it at this point.)

WC: ~700

Ao3

“Let us burn.”

Julian didn’t linger on the fact that this was far from the Emma he knew. Nor on the fact that golden flame started licking the ends of her hair, the tips of his fingers. He clutched her harder and pulled on their bond, letting the fire rise and consume them until it brushed the sky. 

---

Tavvy reached out his arms, the way he’d done countless times before. “Jules, carry me. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

There was a moment where Dru feared the worst, but then Julian slowly reached out with his massive hands, bleeding heavenly fire all the while. There was a bright flash of light, and when Dru blinked it away, she saw Julian and Emma, back to their normal size and no longer radiant. A small puddle of gold light glowed under them, then slowly faded from sight. 

They both lay crumpled on the ground, so still that Dru initially feared the worst. Then she saw Julian move. Their hands were laced together, and as she watched, he pulled on her arm, either to pull her closer or to drag himself to her. Even from this distance, she could hear her brother’s broken sobs and whispers. 

“Emma. Emma, come back. Please.”

Dru dropped to her knees as she realized what had happened. Behind her, she heard Christina cry out in grief, Helen’s quiet sobs. Emma Carstairs, the golden sun to Julian��s quiet moon, was no more.

---

They woke Julian for the funeral against the wishes of the Silent Brothers attending to him. Helen knew he would never forgive them if they let him miss it. Physically speaking, he looked awful. His posture was slumped, defeated. He refused to talk to anyone, not even his siblings who visited whenever they could. His face was exhausted, devoid of hope. For someone who had just won a war, he looked like he might as well have lost it.

The funeral was in two hours, and Julian showed no sign of moving from his bed. Helen sighed and entered the room. He didn’t look up.

“Julian, if you wish to attend, you must start getting ready. Your mourning clothes are i n the closet.” The same ones from Livvy’s funeral. 

He didn’t respond. Didn’t so much as look in her direction. 

Helen tried a different tactic. “Even if you choose not to go, it will happen. Surely you don’t want to miss it.”

“It?” Helen flinched at the raw mirth and sorrow in his raspy voice. “It? Emma is dead. You might as well say it. It won’t change a thing.”

“Yes.” The single syllable was bitter in her mouth. “Emma is...no longer with us. Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

He laughed and sat up to face her. His eyes blazed furiously and Helen was reminded of seeing him filled with heavenly fire. Terrifying. Otherworldly.

“You don’t understand. I feel- I don’t feel- Emma was my sun. My world revolved around her, everyday, every moment. And now, I’m lost. Adrift. I feel like any second now, she’ll waltz through that door and everything will be fine. But she won’t.”

Helen reached out helplessly. “Julian-”

“She was already dying in my arms. Then I had to go and pull her back, and we were vessels filled with heavenly fire, if only for the sake of someone else’s direction. It killed her. I killed her.”

“Oh honey-” Helen crossed the room quickly and wrapped her arms around Julian. He was stiff at first, then leaned into her as his body shook with silent sobs. She ran her hands through his dark curls comfortingly. “It’s not your fault. I’m sure Emma knew what was happening and willingly went along. She won the battle for us. She’s a hero.”

---

Her folded hands gripped Cortana. Jem had refused the sword when the Blackthorns offered, saying it should stay with her. 

---

A week passes by in a blur. Helen runs the Institute while Aline is out and she wisely gives him space. His attention is constantly being drawn to the dead phone on his desk, specifically, what it still held. The Black Book of the Dead. 

[candexcence-blog]

🇮​🇳​🇹​🇷​🇴​🇩​🇺​🇨​🇮​🇳​🇬 ...  𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊

it seems like everyone knows about livia moretti, the guileful mafia consigliere that i actually heard is pretty callous. she has been living in the city for thirty two years old, and they always remind me of piercing gazes, and well worn leather jackets. actually, they’ve sort of ruined about her by malcolm mclaren for me, since they’re always playing it.

hey everyone, i’m ally! i only have livvy at the moment though am already itching to pick up another character. i always like filling wcs so let me know if you have any requests (though i suck at writing male characters so have given up on trying). but of course i’d love to get some plots going for livia so hmu i’m usually down for anything!

BACKGROUND

always daddies little princess, but never his favorite - at least not where it counts. a fact that forever remains livia moretti’s cause of grief. 

because really livia has always had everything she’s ever wanted, when she was younger all it took was the bat of her impossibility bright blue eyes. however no amount of convincing from her or her brother changed their fathers decision to pass on the mantle to her instead of her brother who didn’t want it.

though livia has never been on to grovel, she asks for things once and once only. it’s not as if his decision came as a surprise no one said it point blank but it was always known that no one considered for even a moment his empire (as blood ridden as it may be) would go to his daughter, when he had a son.

no matter the merit she showed, for all her cunning the title would not be hers. being his advisor with some reluctance was her consolation. though a decision that’s only benefitted him thus far. 

even as a young girl livia was pretty ruthless, perhaps because she was so attached to her father and idolized him, craved his attention and made sure to never disappoint him that eventually she became exactly like him.

she did her undergrad at columbia, and got her mba from harvard business school, her concentrations through her years in school being organizational leadership, entrepreneurship, and econmics. she was always a very ambitious girl and knew exactly where she wanted to go and what she wanted to study. while at private school in the ues she made sure to be very involved in school, from student council to drama, and anything everything that would make her stand out some graduation.

as far as her personal life goes she always kept her inner circle small, though was friendly enough with everyone unless you made the mistake of crossing her. she can be described as someone who has a quite temper, it’s hard to tell when she’s angry and that’s perhaps worse than knowing it.

as far as relationships go she’s never really had a long term monogamous relationship, a few meaningful people perhaps but even then at arms length. perhaps because she refused to let feeling get in the way of her ambition, livia moretti simply wasn’t made to be stupidly in love. at least that’s what she believes. 

CONNECTIONS

two best friends

numerous hook ups and fwb situations

enemies with benefits 

one serious so’s though they were not ‘dating’ 

underlings that do her bidding, possibly with mafia affliction 

i’ll mostly add more detailed connections at some point! 

[rxqueenotd]

The Girl Next Door part X

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: dubious content, alcohol consumption, physical violence, mentions of affairs, morality issues, my improper use of commas. MDNI!

A/N: this is the end, my friends. As quickly as it began, so it shall end. Thanks to everyone who stuck around and read this. Y’all make my heart smile. And to @vivalafae and @runningwiththefoxes for listening to my neurotic ass.

WC: 1801

I managed to make it through dinner without a crack in the facade I had delicately manufactured for the sake of my family and friends.

They sang happy birthday with a sea of waiters piled around the table, their faces blurring along with the rest as I blew out twenty-three candles placed intricately around a pearlescent, heart-shaped cake.

I pushed the food around on my plate to make it seem like I had eaten, choosing to fill up on half a bottle of wine while everyone bantered back and forth from their respective seats, their cheerfulness making me want to scream at the top of my lungs.

One day I would realize that the world never did revolve around me. However, that day was not the day.

The entire affair had lasted five weeks and three days. My mental math gave way to a sea of memories, some pleasant, fleeting, while the others threw up a barrage of red flags, making me wonder why I had been so blind, so careless with a man I didn’t know. Even then, with the information I had, I didn’t know him. To add insult to injury, the logical part of my brain, a part long dormant where he and I were concerned, chastised any part of me that felt heartbroken and confused, citing time, or lack thereof, as a point of weakness. Five weeks is merely a blink of an eye, a flap of a butterfly’s wing. But empires have fallen in a shorter amount of time, and the thought alone made me feel somewhat better. A modicum of reprieve as my thoughts came in waves, battering down on me, sweeping me further and further from the safety of the shore.

_________________________________________

“She’s going to be looking for that note until next Fourth of July,” Heather murmured into my ear, leaning against me from her spot at the stool to my right. The Annual Star Spangled Karaoke event had kicked off and with it came the usual bards and minstrels, drunk and howling away at whatever song was chosen for them by the patrons of The Marina. To be quite frank, none of them could carry a tune in a bucket. You’d think the lightness and fun the setting provided would have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I was drunk and irritated by something as simple as the wind blowing my hair into my face.

“Why do we torture ourselves with this shit every year?”

“Oh, it’s torture, huh?” She turned completely around to look at me, her knees knocking into mine as we came face to face. “Do you have something else you should be doing besides this?”

She cocked her head at me, her eyebrow threading upward as she waited for my response.

I shook my head at her.

“It’s a tradition, Livvy Lou.” She patted my knees, turning her attention back around to the DJ.

“When do we let traditions die?” I asked her, feeling sour and dried out as I finished my second Mai Tai. “Particularly this one.”

She turned around quickly, her expression lost between anger, disappointment, and sadness.

“It’s not like you haven’t blown me off every week for the past month,” she spat, eyes narrowing at me, mouth twitching in a way that let me know she wasn’t quite done with her verbal lashing, but also wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue.

My mouth was bone dry from anxiety, the sudden rising of guilt in my chest from being a terrible friend. A terrible person.

“You know what,” I stood up, the barstool scraping unceremoniously against the tile flooring, “Fuck this.”

She turned back around, unbothered by my outburst, arms crossed snuggly across her chest as I grumbled to myself, retrieving my bag and keys before walking away from her entirely.

On my way out of The Marina, I managed to snag a fifth of Jack from the bar, my way of sticking it to Heather since her family owned the restaurant. Eventually I would replace the bottle, never telling anyone what happened to it originally, though I suspect they never even noticed it was missing.

My entire walk home I replayed the scene from Mencken’s car in my head. I rewound it, stopping and going over each word, pausing, seething, the sloshing of the whisky in its bottle in my fist becoming the background track to my dramatics.

Dodging the passerbys, the ones with enough sense to stay sober as they parted the crowds, each of them marching like worker ants towards the center of the village, ambling towards the best vantage point for the annual fireworks show.

And there I was, no regard for public drunkenness or the mess the sidewalk was making of my bare feet, stomping recklessly towards home for no reason other than not being able to stand myself, wanting nothing more than to rip my skin off piece by piece to give way to the rage boiling right under the surface.

Like he knew, like he could predict my arrival, he stood on his front porch, leaning against the railing with his hands hung over the edge, watching as I edged my way closer to the driveway.

“Happy birthday,” he said as casually as one announces the weather.

I threw my hand up, waving him off, “Fuck you.”

I kept walking, hearing his footsteps bounding down his front steps, doing my best to ignore how close on my heels he was getting.

When I fell—busting my ass with no ounce of grace—as I descended the hill that led to the dock, he grabbed hold of my shoulders.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I shook him off, clawing at the earth to get my bearings, to will myself to stand up and put some much needed distance between us.

He grabbed the bottle I had dropped, tipping it upside down, the amber liquid watering a particularly brown patch of grass that had died somewhere in the peak of June’s heat.

“Think you’ve had enough of this.” He said, chastising me with a raised eyebrow.

“Think I’ve had enough of you.”

I was able to totter successfully onto the dock, walking carefully down at the edge, linking my arms across my chest like a brooding child.

“Shouldn’t you be inside taking care of Rosemary and her fucking baby?”

That earned me a chuckle, an earnest one, as he came to stand beside me, gazing out at the water before his eyes finally landed on me.

“You can’t get mad at me over the natural order of things, Olivia.” His tone was softer than I expected, though I hadn’t expected him to follow me to the dock at all.

“The natural order of things?” A sardonic laugh slipped past my lips, “You tell me she will wise up and leave you in a few years, and then, surprise, she’s pregnant.”

He shrugged. “Is it hard to believe you can dislike someone but still fuck them?”

Once again, I chuckled, “I’ve been doing that very thing for weeks, so.”

A smirk played up behind his knowing smile. Like he was privy to information I didn’t know and most likely would never figure out. It was always like that with him; one step forward, two steps back. “You’re a hypocrite, you know.”

“Can you please just leave me alone?” I pleaded, searching his face for any cracks below the surface, any indication that he was hurting like I was, any indication of humanness underneath his steely exterior.

“What do you want from me?” I asked with a resigned sigh, “Do you want me to march into your house and tell her what’s been going on?”

He stayed silent, his smirk widening, eyes dancing cruelly across my deranged features as I continued, “or better yet, let’s just get her out here for the show. Hann-,”

Before I could finish her name, his palm slapped against my mouth, his other hand curling around my wrist to jerk me towards him.

“Shut the fuck up, Olivia.” He gritted, jerking me closer to him for further emphasis.

I was quick to wriggle out of his hold, shoving him with two hands planted on his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” The impact of my shove sent me reeling, stammering backwards as I watched him fight with gravity.

He recovered, stalking over towards me, gripping my shoulders with a slight shake.

“There’s a streak of cruelty in you that I’ve chosen to ignore, but now that you want to play games, I suppose I should remind you that if you want to destroy me, I’ll destroy you too.” His tone was quiet, but laced with effortless venom as he lowered himself to be level with my face. His grip on my shoulders never loosened as he sloshed me back and forth. The idea of him laying our secret bare mingled with the way he gripped my shoulders, kneading into the bony flesh, bore an anger in me that I had never experienced.

When I hit him, with little to no hesitation, delivering a right hook to the crest of his left cheekbone, I immediately regretted my decision. A flitter of fireworks set off above us as if to mark the tumultuous scene, their ranging colors of royal blue and scarlet red maring with the inky blood oozing down his cheek and onto his chin.

“You hit me.” His face was blank, his phrase almost coming out as a question. For some reason, I expected him to hit me back. I had leveled the playing field with my punch, canceling out gender roles when it landed, shocked when he didn’t send me reeling with a blow of his own. He stammered forward, hands reaching out for me, and I swatted them away, eventually landing weightless hits and dull thuds against the hollow of his chest.

His bloody hand smeared against my face as he pulled me tightly into his chest, pushing my tangled hair away from the tacky sweat on my forehead. I contorted myself against him, pulling and pulling away to no avail. He held me tightly as the night sky exploded above us. My voice was a symphony of weak cries and crackled sentiments as I whispered, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” over and over again until my voice grew hoarse and any resolve I had to get away from him in that moment simply faded away as I wore myself down.

The perfect ending for a nightmarish fever dream—fireworks, a fistfight, a bloodied mess— but nothing could have made it better when he sighed, pressed a kiss to my temple, and in two simple words, he let me win.

“I know.” He said. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then he walked away.

Tag list: @aurorag98