Eleanor Sighed. She Was Fed Up With Men Beating On Their Chests And Acting Like Alpha Males. Something

There was a beat of hesitation. "I...I don't know." He muttered, his guilt pressing down on his shoulders.

open to all ( 25+ )

"  be  honest  with  me  for  once .  do  you  love  her  ?   "

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 gentle voice cut through the darkness, but Robbie was too distressed to hear the man's words. He clutched his head in his trembling hands, sobbing as he rocked back and forth. "They're dead. They're all dead." He whispered, his voice a broken echo.

The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the space, casting a warm and comforting light. Robbie felt the bed dip as the male took a seat next to him, trying to calm him. With the man's soothing words and gentle touch, Robbie finally met his gaze. "They're all dead. I watched them die, one by one." He repeated, his voice strangled.

thomas barrow made a habit of being a self-centered man, he wouldn't deny it. he had learnt, from a young age, that if there was no one else to look out for him then he could only trust himself. his reasons for volunteering as a medic had been, in part, selfish ones. his medical training had spared him active military service for the first few months of the war, and he had believed, as everyone else had, that the whole thing would blow over quickly. he would have left the army with newfound status and a possible change in profession. that was the plan at least... how naive that young man had been.

the war had changed him, changed everything — the footman turned medic, now managing the makeshift convalescent home that had taken over downton, working alongside members of the very family that he used to serve. he was no longer at the front, but thomas had seen firsthand the horrors that these men had returned from. he knew the destruction, the death, the pain and suffering, the desperation. he felt a duty of care; underneath that egocentric, individualistic mindset, thomas barrow cared about the poor souls. if he could ease their plight in any way, he was glad to.

a shout drew the lance corporal's attention — night terrors were becoming increasingly more common in the soldiers that passed through his care... depression, shell shock, post-traumatic stress disorder, was it truly any wonder when they had been through hell and back?

❝ hey now, easy there. you're alright, sir. ❞ he started, coming to the soldier's bedside as he jolted awake. speaking in gentle, hushed tones, a hand rested on the man's good shoulder, thumb rubbing in soothing circles as thomas tried to meet his gaze. in the soft lamplight, sharp grey hues searched the soldier's own slightly vacant stare, as the medic continued — with a string of comforting words and a grounding touch, he tried to bring the other out of whatever nightmare plagued his mind.

❝ you're alright, just breath for me, nice and slowly, sir, that's it. you're safe. ❞

Felix shifts slightly in the hospital bed, wincing as pain tugs at his ribs. His eyes flicker up to Cassia, then down just as quickly, like he’s not sure where to look. The bruises and cuts along his cheekbone are darkening, and his arm is strapped tight in a sling. He wets his lips, swallowing before he speaks.

"Hey," he says, voice rough, like he hasn’t used it much. His fingers twitch against the blanket. "Didn’t think you’d—uh… that you’d come when they told me they called you." He glances at her again, then away, like holding her gaze for too long might make something crack open. There’s a hesitation in the way his good hand shifts, like he almost wants to reach for her but thinks better of it. Instead, he just exhales softly.

"Sorry they called you." He pauses. "But… I’m glad you’re here."

- open to: m / f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: cassia crocetti, mid-late twenties, dance instructor. firecracker, outgoing, but can be hot-headed. very loyal and soft. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

"no, here's what you don't understand — " her voice is shrill, full of emotion. cassia has never been one to hold back, especially in a situation like this. "i don't care if the fucking pope is back there. i got a call saying they were hurt, that it was an emergency, and i'm here now, so what's the hold up?!" cassia makes a mental note to apologize later. it's not the nurse's fault that there's security and cassia doesn't have any patience. truthfully, her heart is racing. she's not sure what to expect. would they be bloodied and bruised? unconscious? the phone call was vague. her anxiety is the real reason she's being so ruthless. the guard finally ushers cassia to follow him. clad in leggings with an oversized hoodie, hair in a messy bun atop her head, she cautiously follows. he knocks at the door. "you have a visitor," the guard saunters off and cassia steps into the room, eyes glued to the hospital bed. "hey... they, um... they called me."

"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."

Closed Starter for @bloodbared

In the dim confines of their new home, Jude huddled on the floor behind the bed in the oppressive silence that had filled the house all night. She still couldn't believe her father had forced this union on her. All her life, she'd strived to avoid him and his business, his violent lifestyle a constant shadow she desperately wanted to outrun. But somehow, she'd been dragged back into it.

She'd met Z a few times, enough to know their differences were as vast as the ocean, their mutual dislike a palpable tension in the air. The awkwardness of their first night together in the same house was a suffocating blanket, the weight of her father’s expectations pressing down on her like a physical force.  Jude wondered how long she could hide out in the bedroom from him before he'd attempt to look for her.

"Well, you sure know how to make a girl blush. You don't look so bad yourself, handsome."

@littledaydreamers liked this for a lyric starter or two

"I'm not sentimental, but there's somethin' 'bout the way you look tonight, mm, makes me wanna take a picture. make a movie with you that we'd have to hide."

Fletcher narrowed his gaze at her, his patience wearing thin. "Have you ever thought, knowing what you know about me, it might not be sensible to blackmail me?"

open  to  any gender connection: any, just no strangers.

❝If  you  don't  want  the  world  to  know  about  your  secret,  you  better  do  as  I  say.  Was  that  clear  enough  for  you?❞

dxrlingdevils​:

“Charlotte–” This time she really did pull her girlfriend to a stop instead of letting her take lead. “That’s not fair and you know it.” Her words hurt, even if there was some truth to them. It continued to be a sore spot in their relationship, and one that Lara didn’t know how to overcome considering she wasn’t ready to come out to her family. “What do you want me to do?”

The raven-haired female pursed her lips, trying to decide whether to apologise and just sit on how she felt or whether she should just say everything she had been feeling. “Neither is me having to sneak around all the time. Honestly, if you’re not ready to be open with people...” She paused, unsure whether she should continue — “... well, maybe you shouldn’t be in a relationship yet.” 

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.