Give Me A Vampire Couple That’s Been On And Off Again For Like Hundreds Of Years. Like They Fight Like

Rory grinned, the kind of easy, lopsided smile that made his fans' knees feel unsteady. "Ember," he repeated like he was trying it out, rolling it over his tongue. "That’s a class name."

She still looked like she might either faint or bolt, and he found himself chuckling, not unkindly—just amused, endeared.

"Big fan, yeah?" he said teasingly, tilting his head slightly. "You sure? ‘Cause right now, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here."

He’d actually noticed her. Now he was looking at her. Ember felt the blood rush to her cheeks, warmth blossoming in her chest. Don't be ridiculous, Ember. He probably just thinks you're a weirdo staring at him.

She tried to speak, to conjure up the witty, intelligent greeting she’d practiced a thousand times in the mirror. Instead, a pathetic squeak escaped her lips. Ember cringed inwardly. Smooth, Ember. Real smooth.

Ember finally found her voice, though it was still shaky. "I...I just...I'm Ember. Big fan." The admission felt ridiculously inadequate, a laughable understatement of the devotion that consumed so much of her free time. She wanted to say more, anything to actually start a conversation but she was terrified of saying something even more stupid.

Ruby stared at her phone, biting her lip. She had intended to back off, to put an end to this and redirect her focus. But as she stared at the last message from the guy she liked, the one who had asked her out, her stomach twisted. He had left her on read.

So here she was, sitting in this weird limbo, trying to figure out whether she was just going to sit there and wait around for someone who seemed to be ignoring her—or lean into this playful back-and-forth with King.

She hesitated, staring at the screen. Should I just let it go? she wondered, but she couldn’t ignore how she felt now—how the attention from King, the teasing, the compliments, was almost like a balm for her bruised ego.

text: yep... why'd you ask? text: oh... wow, king, I had no idea you paid that much attention

She paused, her fingers hovering over the screen as she tried to think of a reply. She had always found King attractive, she'd even go as far as to say she had harboured a crush for her neighbour, but she had no idea he also found her attractive -- maybe it was just her body he liked. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened to her ... Still, for some reason, she didn't mind playing along.

text: it was a little red lacey number I was hiding under that dress, actually ;)

he wasn't bothered sending a picture of himself. and in his in way it was kind of like him shooting his shot. he knew he wasn't the most muscular guy, but he also wasn't super skinny and un-defined, he had something going on and not just in his pants region. which he knew she would clock. it didn't help that moments prior she'd sent him a photo and it prompted a reaction.

text: so that.. lingerie, is that what you have on now?

he wasn't quite sure what he was doing at this point but he was just completely rolling with it.

text: could imagine you hiding that little set underneath that dress you wore the other day. the one that hugs your curves and makes your legs look really long.

was he trying to sext with her right now? well, he hoped she'd take the compliments because he meant it, she was gorgeous and the dress he remembered IS incredible with her body, so it's not like he was wrong.

Brooke shook her head. "I can't. DJ will find out—I know he will, he always does." She replied, her voice filled with fear.

open | f/m/nb muse | trenton biggs, he/him, 35, mafia member connection | anything! could include coworker, gf/bf, ex gf/bf, best friend, fwb, stranger, rival gang member, etc (no taboo pls)

"just let me do this for you," he insisted in effort to help the other.

If someone could give me a plot with these two girls, they find out that the guy they have been seeing has been cheating behind their back. They get in contact with each other, make up this plan of revenge that goes terribly wrong and it end up with killing him. They end up having to hide the body, stick together as if they don’t know anything, and along the way they end up falling for each other. If you give me this, I will love you forever. 

Ruby rolled her eyes, but the smirk on her lips was impossible to hide. This idiot.

She shut the window behind him, arms still crossed as she turned to face him. “You’re telling me you just realized you’re scared of heights? Mid-air?” She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “You have zero self-preservation, King.”

But she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was standing right there in her room. His skin still chilled from the night air, his breathing a little uneven from the climb, his hair even more of a mess than usual—and that grin? That cocky, satisfied, damn near proud of himself grin? It was driving her crazy.

Her fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her oversized tee as his gaze swept over her, lingering just enough to send heat straight to her stomach.

She raised a brow. “You scale a building, nearly plummet to your death, and that’s your first observation?”

His next words had her heart skipping a beat. Her breath caught for half a second before she recovered, tilting her head, challenging him. “Oh? And what exactly do you want to do to me, King?”

She took a slow step forward, closing some of the space between them, just to see if he’d back down. If he’d fumble. If this whole reckless, impulsive, sexy-as-hell stunt had left him speechless now that he was finally here.

there was every chance he could have absolutely lost his mind at this point. sure, some girls might find it flattering and almost romantic that he climbed (against his better judgement and fears) to her windowsill. what if she thought it was corny or she was content with the messages exchanged between them and him being there was too much? of course these thoughts entered his mind as he was hovered right by the edge of her blacked out window, where he could just seem very minimum streams of light where she must have had her lamp still on.

his hands were aching a little from the rough texture of the wood, much more from the gripping onto the tiling and with his adrenaline absolutely off the charts right now he waited, hoping she wasn't going to be long and would answer him.

he was almost trembling with the brisk contrast of the temperature outside compared to the comfort of his bedroom, but when she finally noticed him he grinned like a cheshire cat from ear to ear. "fancy seeing you here.." he joked, having a slight chuckle to himself as he gazed up at her.

once she ordered him to come inside before he hurt himself further he gripped his hand over the top of the frame and slipped himself through, minding his head as he stepped into her bedroom. "and to note i am actually scared of heights which i didn't really notice until i was trying to leap from the branches to your roof, which is very inconveniencing, they should have planned that better in placement exactly for this moment but hey!" he exhaled a shaky breath as he put his hands on his hips.

"cute tee." he gestured to the lack of fabric on her body at this point. "you really think you could text me and i wouldn't have an answer for you? especially when we are grazing the subject of what i want to do to you."

a fucked up modern day marriage plot where a rival mob boss marries his daughter, muse a, off to muse b to calm the tension between the families. at first they hate each other, but once forced to live together, they start warming up to each other, too stubborn to let it show. then one night he comes back from an important deal gone wrong, his face is fucked up and he’s feverish and she takes care of him all night and etc etc etc…i need it?

Rhiannon tilted her head slightly, watching the way he worried at his cuticles, the way his shoulders stayed tense even as he tried to settle against the wall. She didn’t judge his answer—just took it in, like she was tucking it away somewhere safe. “Maybe they don’t like talking to you. Or maybe they just don’t know how -- but that’s their problem, not yours.”

At his question, she exhaled slowly, turning her gaze toward the yard. “I walk,” she said after a moment. “Barefoot, mostly. The colder, the better. It makes my head feel… quieter-- like all the noise gets pressed down into the earth.”

She stretched one foot out, pressing her toes lightly against the wood as if proving her point. “If that doesn’t work, I count things. Patterns in the ceiling. The way people blink. The stars, if I can see them.” A pause, then a quiet, almost absentminded addition: “And if that doesn’t work… I try to let it go until it burns itself out.” She made it sound easy, but it was rare that it ever burned itself out. Her thoughts and anxiety got the better of her most days, but the things she mentioned did help ease things for her.

There was a gentle comfort that came from having someone understanding him, it was a rare thing for him to encounter. Even his father couldn't fully understand him. Kit pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to make himself more comfortable against the wall. Of course that was proving to be impossible with the thumping of the music from inside, he could even hear the occasional loud eruption of cheers over whatever song was being played. He thought momentarily of leaving and going home to some peace and quiet but thought that would be rude considering he was in the middle of a conversation.

Kit brought his his thumb to his lips and began picking at his cuticles absent-mindedly. Whenever he felt like he was out of control he would chew on his cuticles, his therapist had said it was so he could feel in control but Kit thought that was a ludicrous reasoning because simply put it didn't make him feel even the slightest bit in control of everything, it was just another action his mind was racing over. He nodded to her sentence in agreement. "My own students don't like talking to me, they think a teacher is supposed to be more sociable with his students but I can't bring myself to want to do that." He confessed. He found it weird that he was telling a stranger all of this, believing that his mind is wiring this to be some type of genuine connection.

Kit considered her question for a moment before responding. "I have to numb it, marijuana is the only thing that does that." Truthfully he'd become pretty dependent on the drug despite doing his best not to. He didn't want to be addicted to it but when he is lying awake at three am and there is no sign of sleep in sight he will do what he has to in order for some type of relief. If his students, father, or anyone who lived around him smelled it's typical smell then they chose to say nothing. "And you?" He asked, looking at her again. "If your mind is anything like mine then you must have a way to quiet it."

Kai exhaled through his nose, the smirk still there but less sharp now—more amused than anything. "Oh, sweetheart, trust me—if I wanted some wide-eyed girl to fawn over me, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here." He leaned back against the bar, finally giving her a little space, but not enough to let her think he was actually backing down.

"Alright, Pia," he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll play nice. Wouldn’t want your pretty little head to explode." His tone was lighter, still teasing but not as cutting. He tapped his fingers lazily against his empty glass, eyes flicking to her whiskey. "Still—whiskey, huh? Didn’t have that one on my bingo card. Thought you were more of a—what was it? Mimosas kind of girl." His lips twitched. "Gotta admit, this is a nice little plot twist."

His gaze dipped to her ink, and this time, there wasn’t a joke waiting on his tongue. "Tattoos are good, though," he murmured, studying them. "Thought you'd be all minimal and dainty with them—" he smirked, nodding at her wrist, "and I was right. But they suit you." His voice lost some of its usual sarcasm, a rare moment of sincerity breaking through before the teasing returned. "Let me guess—each one has a deeply meaningful story, or are some of them just because they looked cool?"

He tilted his head, still watching her, voice dropping just a little. "But hey, I’ll stop assuming things about you if you stop assuming things about me. Fair trade, princess." A slow smirk crept back onto his lips. "Or you could keep pretending to hate this conversation while staying exactly where you are. Your call."

pia was no stranger to arrogant men, she encountered them all the time, it was a weekly occurance whether it was through her dad or generally at work. however, this guy.. THIS guy was another kind all together. "oh so you think me ordering whisky is purely for your benefit? what, so i can prove myself to you? show off? pfft." she turned away from him as she shrugged her shoulders, the fabric of her grey acid wash denim jacket beginning to loosen as she slipped it off to reveal her halterneck top she had on underneath. it was revealing, quite low cut to show her cleavage just enough and was held there by the miracles of tape considering she was sure it wouldn't otherwise. you could now clock the various dainty little ink patterns she had on her skin in various places and the jewellery that hung from her wrist. all worth more than anyone could imagine, but most of them were sentimental and gifts rather than things she'd bought for herself.

"i think ignoring you is probably best for the both of us." she turned her head as she tipped her chin so that her knuckles could rest underneath as she waited for the filled glass of whisky to return infront of her, of course on the rocks. she didn't have to justify herself to him, she wasn't even that insecure-- not to say she was big headed or egotistical either but she was reasonably confident in herself. "why don't you go bother some other girl who will give you heart eyes, and obsess over everything you say?" she muttered as she took a large sip of her drink. her friend had left to go and play pool and her other friend was dancing so she was left to decide which direction she wanted to go towards. for now she was content as long as he wasn't about to stay in a close proximity but either way she didn't want to leave because that would mean he wins.

Astrid stared at the door, from the couch. Waiting to see if her visitor would disappear. The knocks sent a dull thud through her skull, each one landing like an unwelcome heartbeat. She knew it was Roman.

Of course, it was Roman. No one else cared enough to physically come to her apartment to check on her.

She hadn't meant to disappear—not really. But the weight of everything had settled in thick, pressing her into the couch, into the mattress, into the silence. Days blurred. Maybe weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she responded to a text.

Another set of knocks. His voice, firm but not unkind. Her fingers curled tight around the edge of a blanket she hadn't realized she dragged from the couch as she made her way over to the door, still not opening it.

Her throat was dry. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “what do you want?”

- open to: f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: roman serrano, mid-late twenties, twitch streamer who's just gotten pretty popular, lover boy, golden retriever type of guy. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

knuckles wrapped at his neighbor's door. it's out of the ordinary for roman to have the confidence to go to someone's door unannounced. he's always been the type to shoot a text when he's on his way and usually expected his guests to do the same. he was a private guy. roman couldn't help but worry, though, when his neighbor seemed to stop coming around. he hadn't even seen them at the mailboxes or in passing aside from once or twice and they didn't look good. while he used to hear laughter, talking, and more than one voice. he can only assume that there's been some sort of break up. he hates to think the worst, that the other person is dead, but he hasn't ruled it out. roman sighs and slides down the wall beside their door, sitting down. another three knocks. "i don't care what you look like or if there's cups all over the apartment -- can you just open the door?"

Fletcher's eyes lingered on the female as he tried to work her out. "I'm just saying blackmailing criminals sounds like a dangerous pastime. I would hate for something to happen to you."

Completely  motionless,  Dove  kept  her  blue  eyes  on  Fletcher.  If  there  was  something  she  learned  from  her  high  school  best  friend,  then  that  you  should  never  back  down  ever.  ❝Oh  that's  funny,  why  not?❞