Enemies To “ugh I Can’t Believe I’m Saving Your Life” To “ugh We Have To Work Together Or The

Lydia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders finally slumping as she perched on the edge of the bed. She glanced at Kaleb—really looked at him—taking in the exhaustion in his posture, the quiet understanding in his eyes.

She gave a small, humourless chuckle, running a hand through her already-messy hair. "Yeah," she admitted, voice quieter than usual. "Always."

She let the silence linger for a moment before flopping back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. "I swear, I could write a book on bad dates at this point. Chapter One: ‘How to Spot a Walking Red Flag in Five Minutes or Less.’"

She threw an arm over her eyes, shaking her head. "Tonight's disaster? Talked about himself for two hours straight. Didn't ask me a single question. Like, sir, I promise you, I do not care about your fantasy football league that much."

A short laugh escaped her, but it lacked any real amusement. "The worst part is, I knew. I always know. Five minutes in, and I was already plotting my escape. I should start carrying smoke bombs or something—make my exits more dramatic."

She peeked at him from under her arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Or, you know, I could just stop going on these stupid dates altogether. But where’s the fun in that?" Lydia stated, flipping over on to her stomach to look at him properly. "Your turn... Make me feel better about my tragic night."

Kaleb’s eyes widened a fraction as he saw Lydia’s familiar silhouette against the window. Of course, it was her. When a date went south—and they often seemed to do so for her—she always ended up at his window. He’d grown accustomed to the soft tap, tap, tap against the glass, a signal he knew well. He pulled back the curtains, his own exhaustion mirrored in her posture.

Without a word, he unlatched the window. Lydia clambered inside with the practiced ease of someone who'd done it countless times. It was a routine, a comforting ritual built on years of a friendship deeper than most people understood.

Kaleb knew she wasn’t really asking a question. It was more of a statement, and one he already knew the answer to. He just nodded as he replied, "Always. You?"

Plot 67:  Reservations & Revelations 

Jeyda’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile—more like amusement laced with warning. He took in the fire in Rowan’s eyes, the rigid set of her shoulders. Defiance suited her. A shame it wouldn’t serve her well.

"You wound me, Rowan," he murmured, voice smooth, unbothered. He plucked the champagne flute from her hand, deliberately brushing his fingers against hers, and took a slow sip before handing it back. "I’d at least hoped for a 'darling' before the insults began."

But his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. Beneath the cold exterior was something else—something bitter, something resentful. He glanced around the ballroom, at the watching eyes, at the silent puppeteers who had sealed their fates. His father’s presence lingered like a ghost, unseen but suffocating.

Then, just for show—because they were always performing—he took her hand and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles. His lips barely grazed her skin, but the gesture was enough to earn approving nods from the men who had dictated their futures.

When he looked at her again, his steel-grey eyes were unreadable. "Smile, Rowan," he said, his voice quiet, almost taunting. "The audience is watching."

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this

The champagne flute felt fragile in Rowan's grip, threatening to shatter under the pressure of her clenched hand. The forced smiles, the platitudes about unity, the goddamn wedding cake – it was all a grotesque charade. She caught her father's eye across the crowded ballroom. Sal Price, a man who thrived on fear and intimidation, gave her a curt nod, a silent reminder of what was at stake. Her life, her freedom, her family's future, and more importantly the life of her brothers. Of course she'd never tell Brax the real reason why she'd agreed to follow along with their father's orders, the whole point of this was to avoid the blood shed.

She took a large gulp of champagne, the bubbles doing little to soothe the burning resentment in her throat. Tonight, she was a pawn. A sacrifice on the altar of peace. Peace bought with her misery. A shadow fell across her.

She lifted her head and met the cold, steel-gray eyes of Jeyda Arslan, her soon-to-be husband, her captor. "Arslan," she spat, the word dripping with venom. "Or should I call you husband? The thought makes me want to vomit."

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.

"I'm sure you would be the same if the situation was reversed." Zoe replied chewing her lip to keep the bashful smile from her face. "And who's to say I don't actually like this guy I met?" She asked matter-of-factly as she raised a brow.

"you're so dramatic," comment flows easily, laughter escaping his lips -- tongue darting out to dampen them. smirk growing upon noticing the redness growing on cheeks. "some guy at the club getting pictures like that? damn, can't imagine if what you'll send someone you actually like."

Kai chuckled, watching the exact moment her resolve snapped. There was no real fight left in her. He felt it in the way her body trembled, the way she moved against him, chasing something she wasn’t even trying to deny anymore.

"Thought we weren't doing this again", he murmured, voice thick with amusement, his hands guiding her hips with that lazy kind of confidence that always drove her insane.

Her breath hitched when he shifted beneath her, angling himself just right. He knew she was close, could feel it in the way her body clenched, in the little gasps she tried to swallow down.

His hand slipped between them as he continued to thrust into her, fingers finding the spot that made her whole body jolt. "There you go," he murmured, voice low and coaxing as he circled it with practised ease.

well she was a complete goner now wasn't she? she knew that some part of her was going to betray her and work against her words. she was moments away from caving entirely, to confessing that she needed him and how she actually didn't want this to end especially right this second.

but if tonight had taught her anything she wasn't going to be the person to led her guard down first AGAIN, so of course she was going to say she didn't want this, or him. the way he was looking up at her, he looked so incredibly delicious this was going to be difficult for her and she knew it.

the fact was as soon as he thrusted inside of her and she felt like every nerve ending in her body was about to erupt, she let go of her decision immediately. fuck it, she'll deal with the consequences later. that was future pia's problem. "fuck sake." she rolled her orbs with frustration but it was also mixed with pure lust.

she rocked harder this time, and the sensation that drove through her body was something else. the fact that he was the only guy to get her off, what was the harm in taking advantage of that just a little?

I really want an AU where our muses are married and to their friends they look really awesome and happy but they’re just not. Maybe they are having a difficult time having kids, or they can’t really make ends meet, but whatever it is it’s putting a terrible strain on their relationship, yet in public they act like the happiest couple on Earth.

"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?"

Rory let out a soft laugh. He shook his head, still grinning as he glanced down at the empty space where his coffee should have been.

“Ah, well,” he said, looking back at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I have somewhat of a life outside of performing. Oat milk lattes are a big part of that life. Well, it's vanilla latte, if we're being pedantic but that's neither here nor there.” He joked with another laugh. He started to say something else when a group of fans approached, asking for autographs and photos. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—pausing mid-conversation felt a bit awkward—but he obliged with practised ease, signing and smiling before turning back to Ember with an apologetic smile. As the fans walked away, their hushed whispers lingered in the air, curiosity evident in their voices as they wondered about the redhead by his side.

Rory let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced toward the café. "Well, technically, yeah," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I'm in no rush. I reckon the latte can wait. I like being able to have these moments with my fans." He replied honestly. "Just make sure you get a photo or something before I go. I'd feel terrible if I forgot and left you with nothing to remember from our chat... that's if you even want to remember this -- I probably shouldn't assume. I'm not that arrogant, I promise." He ran a hand through his hair, laughing.

Ember's cheeks burned brighter under Rory's playful gaze. He thought she was flustered, not making a fool of herself? Well, that was… marginally better. Relief washed over her, quickly followed by the realization that she still had to say something.

"No, no crisis!" she blurted out, a little too fast. Ember immediately cringed internally. Smooth, Ember, real smooth. She forced a small, shaky laugh. "An existential crisis might be a bit dramatic," Ember managed, her voice a touch breathy. "Just... a bit surprised. You're... you're usually on stage, not, you know, buying oat milk lattes." She gestured vaguely with one hand, hoping she didn't look like a complete idiot. The fact that Rory was smiling at her, a real, genuine smile, made her want to melt into the tarmac. She just hoped she wasn't making him regret ever leaving his house for caffeine. "Oh my goodness, am I stopping you from getting your coffee?"

You and your significant other are running for your lives from a slasher killer. Suddenly your partner ducks into a door and locks it behind them leaving you behind. You slump against the door preparing for the worst. The killer walks up and says “Wow what a jerk. You ok?”