“we’re A Little More Than Just Best Friends, Aren’t We? So Why Don’t You Just Admit It, Why Do

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?”

"And what is this difference?" Brooke questioned, raising a brow. "Maybe I'll get you a bouquet of tulips accompanied by a box of dark chocolates as a down payment. But if you want a real thank you, I can teach you how to take care of a goldfish...Low maintenance, I promise!”

open to all! darius landon. forty three. he/him. bisexual. assassin & owner of the good company safe haven bar for criminals. son of the landon crime family.

"i'm not going to stop you from getting yourself killed." darius chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he rolled back onto the heels of his boots. "i will help you live though, if you ask really nicely. i'm partial to tulips, dark chocolate, and i can't take care of pets, but i am sure you'll find something good to thank me."

Spencer can’t look at him. He knows he should, knows Miguel deserves at least that much, but it’s too hard. If he looks, he’ll see the frustration, the disappointment, the hurt—and Spencer isn’t sure he can handle that. Not from him.

So he stares at the floor instead, at the scuffed-up toes of his sneakers, at the way his fingers twitch uselessly at his sides. He wants to shove them into his pockets, but that would make it too obvious how bad they’re shaking.

“I tried,” he says finally, voice quieter than he wants it to be. “I— I did. I asked, and he said no. Told me to get out.” His throat feels tight, but he swallows past it, grips the hem of his hoodie like it’ll hold him together. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough. But it’s all he has.

He can feel Miguel waiting, expecting something more, but Spencer doesn’t have the right words. The truth is tangled in his throat, too raw, too ugly. He knows what Miguel must be thinking—that he should’ve planned better, that he should’ve just called and asked for more time, that it’s that simple.

But it’s not. It never was.

“I can’t call him.” The words slip out before he can stop them, too sharp, too fast, and he immediately regrets how defensive they sound. He clears his throat and forces himself to steady. “It’s not that simple.”

The weight of it settles heavily in his chest, but he doesn’t let it linger. He can’t. He won’t. He forces a shrug like it doesn’t matter, like it’s all in the past, and he’s fine now. “It doesn’t matter. He’d just say no again anyway.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. Because the truth is, Spencer is terrified to call him. Just the thought of hearing his voice again makes his stomach twist. He doesn’t want to give him any reason to think he still has power over him, doesn’t want to hear the way his name would curl like a warning in his mouth.

So, no. He can’t call. But he won’t say that, won’t give Miguel a reason to look at him like he’s something fragile.

Instead, he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Look, I just—I just need a place to crash for a couple days. I’ll figure something out, I swear. I just—” His voice catches, and he hates it. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

He won’t go back to his parents. That was never an option. Not after they told him he wasn’t their son anymore. Not after they looked at him like he was something shameful.

He's already concerned about the fact that Spencer can't quite look him in the eye, though he supposes having to come running back to your ex with your tail tucked between your legs would be kinda humiliating for anyone. And, to be fair, Miguel never expected this------- he'd assumed that Spencer had washed his hands of their entire relationship, even after agreeing to be friends later when they'd broken up. Miguel couldn't deny how badly the sudden disappearance (and knowing that Spence left him for better) had hurt, but eventually, he pretended that it was all for the best, just to snuff out any lingering hope for them. So, of course he didn't know all the right words to say the moment Spencer resurfaced out of goddamn nowhere, homeless and seemingly helpless. "Yeah, you say no," Miguel snaps like it's fucking obvious what should've been done, "you say no so you have enough time to look for a new apartment. Call his ass up and tell him you need more time."

ofblcssxms​:

Through squinted eyes Mollie peered out into the night air, catching the sight of Asher. “Dude.. It’s 2am. Also I literally saw you four days ago..” To answer his question.. yes. Tugging her large, fluffy, dressing gown tighter around her form, Mollie then listened to him continued to speak. Humming softly, she then lifted a hand, tapping her forefinger against her chin lightly, as though she were thinking about his comment. Huffing, she then stepped aside. “If I so much as find a wet towel left on the bathroom floor, you’re out.” The stern look wasn’t a good one for the petite woman, considering she stood a solid foot shorter than her friend, and the fact that she could barely keep a straight face, she broke almost immediately. Moving back into the apartment she shared with a few of her college study buddies, Mollie then began to speak once again. “You wanna tell me what happened.. Or rather why you’re on my door step at two in the freaking morning?” 

Asher gave a sheepish grin. “Is it really? I had no idea.” He fibbed rather blatantly. “Four days ago feel like a lifetime when it comes to being separated from my best friend.” The male replied, attempting to shmooze his words and a charming smile. He laughed as she pretended to consider what he had asked. Asher nodded “Noted. No wet towels on the floor, but boxers are fine, right?” He teased with a wink as he stepped into the apartment. “Nice dressing gown, by the way.” The dark-haired male told stated, closing the door behind him. “Pshh, it’s a long story. A boring one, if I’m honest.” Asher replied, keeping things vague. He had never been a fan of talking about his home life, even to one of his best friends. 

Give me a vampire couple that’s been on and off again for like hundreds of years. Like they fight like crazy and break up and not see each other again for a long time but then come back together like nothing has changed and are all over each other in love. They won’t admit it but they’ll love each other forever no matter what, even if they’re not always together. 

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?"

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

Plot # 64: A Hand to Hold

ofblcssxms​:

CLOSED STARTER || ft. @littledaydreamers​ || Elsie Newman

Injuries came hand in hand with the title of enforcer. Though, Ivan was usually the one inflicting the injuries and throwing the punches instead of having them thrown back at him. A cut eyebrow and busted lip was all the man had walked away with, though it was more than he was used to. The men he fought didn’t usually fight back. Hence, why he’d been taken off guard, and why the other had managed to get a few stray punches in. Heading back to base with his tail between his legs, Ivan immediately made a b-line for the medical corner. Blood dripped down his face, pouring from the cut above his eye. The other man had somehow managed to clock him with a pair of knuckle dusters, making Ivan’s face not so pretty to look at right now. “Elsie, get in here!” He shouted for his protege, hissing as he cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol. Gritting his teeth, he then ushered the woman over, grabbing a suture set. “Try not to ruin my face even more, huh.” He joked, holding out the set toward her. 

It had been a long day. A long, boring day. Elsie had been stuck at the base for nearly forty-eight hours now. It was tedious, to say the least. She was used to coming and going as she pleased, never really one to fully follow the instructions she had been given, but she had pissed off one of her handlers after killing more people than they have instructed her to. Not to mention the fact she hadn’t killed them in the way that was ordered. In her defense, their way was too boring. If she was going to kill someone, she wanted to have some fun with it. When she heard her name being called, she immediately jumped up from her seat, enjoying the prospect of having something to occupy her time. Elsie followed the voice she suspected to be Ivan. A laugh erupted from her lips. “What the fuck happened to you?” She laughed once more. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this, no?” Elsie teased, raising a brow. To most, he would have seemed intimidating, maybe even scary, but the blonde was still yet to come across someone who stirred such feelings in her. Perhaps it was just the fact she had grown quite comfortable with the male. Plucking the suture kit from his hands, she placed it on the tray next to her as she picked up the suture needle and went to work on the cut. “I’m not sure that’s possible. It already looks pretty fucked up to me.” She tsked, her accent thick as she concentrated on the stitches. 

dxrlingdevils​:

“Okay, I take it back. I’m not the one that’s being overdramatic, it’s you.” She teased back, feeling a little lighter at their playful banter. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she considered his question and contemplated her answer as the different places she had dreamed of passed through her thoughts. “What about Scotland? I’ve always wanted to visit the Highlands.” Of course this was just a dream and she knew that she wouldn’t be packing up and leaving any time soon. “I thought I was finally beginning to learn from the best and really learn about the industry, you know? Instead I’m running around playing baby sitter and fetching coffee.”

A laugh fell from his lips. “It seems we’ve been spending too much time together, you’re rubbing off on me.” He replied with a wink. “Scotland sounds great. I love the accent and I’ve always wanted to find Nessie the Loch Ness Monster.” Jesse agreed, going along with her fantasy. The male sighed, feeling for his friend. “That’s normal, though. It sucks, but it is normal. These jerks just take advantage, anything to make life easier for them. They’ll see your persistence though, and it’ll pay off. I know it will. You’re great at what you do. They just need to see that.”