Lydia Let Out A Breath She Hadn’t Realized She Was Holding, Her Shoulders Finally Slumping As She Perched

Plot 67:  Reservations & Revelations 

Spencer gave a shrug not wanting to make a big deal out of the situation, he hated conflict and he'd had enough of it for one night. "What was I meant to do, say no?" He retorted not quite meeting Miguel's eyes, he could already tell he was pissed and he hadn't even told him the full story.

muse: miguel [ 30s, professional boxer ] open to: m only pls! plot: taken from here! your muse was recently dumped and kicked out of his boyfriend's apartment, forcing him to rely upon miguel for help. miguel and your muse being past exes is also an option!

"The fuck you mean he just kicked you out? And you let him?"

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."

but also asking for a friend: does anyone know of a Hollywood/celeb RP where Harry Styles FC is available? Preferably, a Discord RP.

Plot # 64: A Hand to Hold

Brooke leaned into his touch, her eyes closing momentarily as she savoured his warm touch and the feeling of safety, but she knew it wouldn't last, not if DJ had anything to do with it. She blinked away her tears, forcing a smile to her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I could never ask that of you. I don't want to be the reason for any harm coming to you Trent"

continued from here for @littledaydreamers

Looking into the other's eyes, seeing the worry that was undoubtedly present in them, Trenton gently cupped the other's cheek with the tilt of his own head. "Brooke," he spoke her name softly, pain laced in his tone as he ached to help the other. Still, he put on an attempted smile in hopes to give the other some courage. "I'm just as good at helping people hide as I am at finding them." Granted it came as a part of his job, but he truly wanted to help the woman in any way he could. "You can be safe with me, I promise."

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?

“we just broke up and i honestly can’t stand being with you right now but i was trying to leave and apparently we got snowed in so i guess we’re stuck together” au

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.

Kai just stared at her for a beat, unimpressed, before letting out a short, gravelly laugh. Damn, she was wound tight. The scowl, the eye roll, the clenched jaw—yeah, he was getting under her skin already. Not that it was hard. People like her? They were used to admiration, not indifference.

"Relax, princess—" and yeah, he said it again, slow and deliberate, just to watch her bristle, "—it was just an observation. And congrats on the brunch trivia, really riveting stuff." His lips twitched, but he stayed leaning against the counter, unfazed by her little outburst.

"And nah, I don't tend to piss people off," he said, dragging a ringed hand through his inky black hair before flicking his gaze back to her. "Just the ones who come in here with a stick so far up their ass they could double as a coat rack." He tilted his head, studying her like she was some fascinating little science experiment. "You got something to prove? ‘Cause it’s real obvious you want me to know you can ‘hold your own.’” He smirked again, dark and lazy. “So what’s the deal? Daddy’s money not buying you enough respect these days?"

oh, she did not like him already. there was something about him that immediately had her on the defensive. the pet name alone had her features hardening with a scowl. "i'm sorry what did you just call me?!" you could tell by her tone she was far from impressed, and he may have thought he was being funny but she certainly did not agree. "it's mimosas for brunch, not champagne actually." her orbs rolled with bemusement as her lips pursed and with that her jaw began to clench. "oh, so what you're saying is that because i am not.. what? covered in ink and wearing a leather jacket i can't possibly be seen anywhere like this? talk about stereotyping me. well done. great first impression. do you tend to piss off all the people you first meet or am i just a special exception?" just because she didn't look rough around the edges didn't mean she wasn't allowed to step foot in the bar. pia was very much the type who could hold her own, and he was just about the learn that little fact just by opening his mouth.