Closed Starter | @amoonlitmemory

amoonlitmemory​:

“That won’t be for a while yet, Mr Dawson. You’re not going anywhere until I’m happy with your progress and I know you’re injuries are fully healed.” Her heart couldn’t help but break a little seeing his face. Of course she knew that she had no real power to stop him being called once more, it was inevitable with war. Yet she couldn’t have stopped the attachment that she had seemed to have formed during her care of him and the time she had spent by his bedside. “Your sister asked me to drop by. She’s worried about you.”

“Alex,” the male interjected with a gentle correction. “Please, call me Alex. Mr Dawson is my father. Besides, I believe we’ve known each other long enough to drop the formalities now.” He fell into a thoughtful silence, mulling over her words. Although he didn’t perceive his injuries as overly burdensome, he acknowledged his lack of medical expertise. “My shoulder gives me some trouble but overall, I feel like I’ve healed quite well. It’s more my head, y’know?” Alex’s voice grew softer, as if opening up a part of himself he rarely shared. Melissa had a way of putting him at ease, enabling him to speak about thoughts he never thought he would verbalize. “She worries too much.” It was undeniably true, yet he couldn't deny his own contribution to her concerns—ignoring her calls and isolating himself at home for over a week.

Kai watched her turn to leave, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. Oh, hell no. She wasn’t getting off that easy—not after that. Not after the way she kissed him like she meant it and then had the audacity to act like it never happened. Like she could just brush it off, walk away, and pretend she wasn’t still feeling it just as much as he was.

Before she could slip too far, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist—not hard, just firm enough to stop her. To make her look at him.

"Nah," he muttered, voice lower now, rougher. "You don’t get to do that, princess."

His grip was steady but unthreatening as he pulled her back, just enough to spin her toward him again, just enough so that their bodies were close—too close. His free hand found her waist, pressing her back against him.

"You don’t get to kiss me like that," he murmured, his gaze locked onto hers, intense, unwavering. "And then act like it was nothing." He let the words settle, his thumb brushing absently against the inside of her wrist. Steady pulse. But faster than before.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips, but there was something else in his expression now—something less teasing, more real. He leaned in just a fraction, just enough for his breath to ghost over her lips, deliberately testing the waters. "You can say whatever you want," he said lowly, his voice smooth, taunting. "But we both know you’re not walking away because you want to. You’re walking away because you have to."

His grip loosened then, giving her the choice. Letting her decide if she wanted to stay. If she was going to run, or if she was going to stop pretending.

there was no expiration date or thought of when this might end, though the urgency of both of their actions was leading them down a very slippery slope in terms of restraint. there was only so much you could push at the actions of desire before there's a want and a need to escalate it further. of course pia was very aware that the longer they did this that she felt that fire the moment their lips pressed together. it was like all her irritation for him channeled into that one moment where she could just get tangled up in him and their bodies would do the only talking. the problem being that she knew the moment they stopped that he would ruin it, one way or another. pop her bubble in a matter of seconds just by opening his mouth.

they were both panting in their breaths in the silence as they pulled away from one another but not far enough that she could still feel his body pressed against hers and the tension it yeilded. the moment she saw that smirk of his begin to form she immediately regretted her decision. how could she be so stupid as to spur on his behaviour? she just wanted him to stop talking in all reality.

her orbs rolled in irritation, the pet name back in full force, didn't take him long did it? "i already am thanks." she portrayed a very sarcastic grin, aware of what she may have caused. "good thing that this is never ever happening again, huh?" she pointed out in a very definitive tone. who was she trying to convince really? because even she didn't believe herself. "if you'll excuse me i am going back inside to join the guys in their game. i'll let you finish your cigarette." she shifted so their bodies were finally apart and let out a sigh of irritation.

"Of course, it isn't," Nadia replied, rolling her eyes. "I'd be pretty crap at my job if it was." She held her hand up, admiring the crimson red staining it. "Pretty, isn't it? There's no other red quite like the colour of blood."

open to anyone! muse: amar 'ozzy' oza, wanderer / musician. age 29-32.

"is that your blood?"

Oh. Oh shit.

Her heart stopped the second she saw the name above the message. That was not meant for him.

Ruby sat up so fast that she nearly knocked her phone out of her hands. Sleepy confusion turned into full-blown horror as she clicked back to the chat, praying she was hallucinating. Nope. There it was. Sent. Delivered. Read.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, as if that would somehow undo the fact that King—her neighbour King—had just seen that.

Her mind raced. Maybe he hadn’t actually looked at it yet? Maybe he’d just seen the notification and ignored it? But no, knowing him, he definitely opened it. Her stomach flipped at the thought.

Okay. Breathe. Fix this. Damage control.

Fingers shaking, she quickly typed out a message:

"OH MY GOD. King, that was NOT for you. I am SO sorry. Please just pretend you never saw that. Or delete it. Or—oh my god, this is humiliating."

She hesitated for half a second before sending it, then groaned, flopping back onto her bed and covering her face with both hands. Of all the people…

truth be told king had always had a thing for her. did he do anything about it? oh, absolutely not. he was the first one to be informed of her useless and irritating male partners she kept and yet he never tossed his hat in the ring. he'd made jokes about it because they had this thing between them, a sort of tension if you will that couldn't entirely be pin pointed. he liked it that way, ad he enjoyed being the one person to wind her up. on this evening in particular he was just about to text her as her light was still on quite early. they'd been neighbours long enough he could catch the glow in the corner of his eye even where he was sprawled out on his bed. it wasn't until his phone pinged and he realised it was her, he was a little surprised. could she read his mind? not really thinking anything of it he clicked on the picture half asleep before he realised the extend of what was on his screen. well. his evening took an interesting turn. @littledaydreamers

Rory’s grin widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. He shifted his weight slightly, hands slipping into his pockets. “Ah, c’mon now,” he teased, tilting his head. “I don’t think you’re making a fool of yourself at all. Bit flustered, maybe. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He let her words hang in the air for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “I'm not, am I?" He feigned shock, his mouth hanging open before a laugh bubbled from his lips. "And here I was thinkin’ I was just a lad trying to grab a coffee.” His smile turned slightly crooked, playful. “Didn’t realize I’d be causing an existential crisis in the middle of a car park.”

Ember felt her cheeks burn even hotter under Rory's smile. Her name, coming from him. She swallowed hard, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack. "Class?" she managed to squeak, then instantly regretted it. Great start, Ember. Real smooth.

She felt a lurch in her stomach as he chuckled, a sound that probably soundtracked the dreams of half his fanbase. His teasing question made her want to disappear, to be swallowed whole by the sidewalk. He was right, of course. Part of her did want to be anywhere but here, not because she didn’t want to meet him, but because she was so unbelievably unprepared to actually do it.

“No, seriously,” she blurted, trying for some kind of composure. “Huge fan. Just… surprised. And… probably making a fool of myself.” Ember finally met his gaze, her eyes wide and pleading, hoping he wouldn't judge her too harshly after this spectacularly awkward introduction. "It's just, you know... you're Rory." She gestured vaguely with her hands, words failing her. "It's a lot to process in a parking lot on a Tuesday."

Zach sighs, glancing at her with a flicker of something almost like... patience? Almost. He leans forward slightly, his expression flat but serious. "Alright, fine. I’ll give you one shot, just this once," he says, his tone a little more neutral than usual. "If you wanna talk, I won’t laugh, and I won’t use it against you. But you gotta know, it’s a one-time deal. After this conversation, I'm going back to not giving a hoot about your issues or problems. Deal?" He raises an eyebrow, challenging her to either take it or leave it.

there was something she didn't trust about the other offering her space to complain so she glares to him instead. his reaction only shows that he has no general interest in what she has to say. rolling her eyes she shakes her head. "of all people - i am not about to complain to you and tell you my problems. you'll just laugh or use it agaisnt me." she points out to him pulling her legs up to her chest letting herself go silent.

"I don't think that's your place to say. And please don't presume to know what my demons are or what they look like."

OPEN TO: any muse 25 + ! MUSE: vance wilder. twenty-nine. callum turner fc. your hometown burn out.

"The difference between us is that you weren't the worst thing that happened to me. But you? You've got your demons and they all look like me."

dxrlingdevils​:

“Oh obviously. It wasn’t planned, a few of the lads from work dragged me out, otherwise you know I would have had you by myside causing mayhem and destruction.” Liam didn’t have it in him to put any more enthusiasm behind his words, if anything it came out as more of a groan. “Wait, you were supposed to have done the shopping yesterday?” His brows furrowed as he attempted to remember only to groan in pain as his head throbbed.

“I mean, that’s what you say but I mean you could have called me.” Becca replied, looking at him, still unimpressed. It didn’t actually bother her he had gone out without her, but it was fun to make him think so. “We’re not talking about what I did or what I didn’t do Liam, we are talking about me needing Fruit Loops, oh and those cute mini marshmallows that you put in my hot chocolate,” Becca stated before placing her bowl on the table and reaching over for the spare pillow that the male had been trying to find.

i want to have a plot where ballerina/bad boy and she has very strict parents and they force to dedicate her life to dancing which she agrees to until she meets a boy who smokes a lot, gets into a lot of fights, and always has a cocky smile on his face. but she doesn’t mind because he makes her feel like she isn’t someone’s doll anymore, like a normal person. 

Plot 67:  Reservations & Revelations