BEGIN TO WONDER

[ based on this ]: open to f

“you know if you want to go out tonight, you can,” wes announced, leaning against the frame of her bedroom door.  it was already pretty late at night.  cash was asleep.  he had finished everything he needed to at the bar.  “just because you’re an au pair, doesn’t mean you have to give up a life of your own.”  the words leave his mouth absentmindedly.  all of his focus was on her body: the slopes of her hips, the flesh on her thighs…he could go on for hours.  “or you can watch a movie with me?  m’sure there’s a late showing of halloween somewhere.”

open to: m / f / nb ! summary: based on the purge because we love a good thriller ! colton and your muse are trying to get home in time to lock themselves inside safely when colton’s piece of crap car breaks down. now they either run for their lives to his house or fight for their lives ! they can be best friends, dating, siblings, enemies, anything. just lmk in the tags !

they were screwed. his car was old, he knew that. he had been saving up for a new one, but his money literally went to his bills and his loans, so it was no shocker that he was fucked. however, in a half an hour, they would be better off dead than to be on the side of the road. “alright, chill out. you freaking out is not going to help the situation in any way,” colton finally spoke up, eyes not leaving his steaming hood. “we have two options. one would be to stay here and wait for someone to find us and maybe kill us, who knows. or we just fucking sprint to my house. it’s only a few blocks away, we should be able to make it if we run.”

open to: f ( 25+ ) / based on 

        he wasn’t usually at work this late, but he was a serial procrastinator when it came to the boring part of his job. because of that, there was a mound of paperwork making a mess of his already unorganized desk and ensuring that he would be here for at least a couple more hours. he was internally begging for some kind of reprieve from the sheer dullness laid out before him when, as if an answer to his prayers, the other arrived. at this point he’s lost count of the number of times she’d made trips to the station to see her father ( something that the rest of their coworkers teased him about every chance they got ). he felt it safe to assume that it was the same intentions that brought her here tonight — only her father had just left less than an hour earlier, making ross the unfortunate one who had to break the news of his absence. “ he’s not here. ” fingers still fiddling with his pen in hand, he turned away from his desk to speak; he was never a formal greeting kind of guy. “ you’re welcome to hang out ‘till he get’s back, grab a cup of coffee or something if ya want. ”

‘less sodium, dad! are you trying to have a heart attack?’ became a usual catchphrase for the girl and her beloved father. if coraline were being HONEST with you, she’s not all that worried about her father’s specific sodium levels  — it was mostly the nature of his job. it was demanding, stressful, and as a doctor she couldn’t be more worried about him and his heart condition. it was the nurturer in her, the one instilled from her mother and her mother before, and besides; if one (or five) little, minor, teeny-weeny checkups cleared her conscience, then what’s the harm in that? 

just last night she’d handed him a small brown bag, vegan stew from the night prior and a piece of italian bread, she’d go on some schpiel about how someone told her that the only things ever labeled as his in the break room fridge were energy drinks, and how bad those were for him, so on and so forth. that’s when her father would tell her she sounds just like her late grandmother. this time, though? she’s greeted bluntly with his absence, “oh.” is all that sounds from her to start, both hands clinging onto that aforementioned brown bag. then she’s nodding slowly as she stood feeling rather corrected, walking to her father’s desk (the one with a picture of her from 3rd grade holding her first place science fair pin and that weird mets bobble head her uncle had given him). she perches herself atop a clear space on the smooth wood, dress conforming to the harsh edges of it as she waits, gazing vaguely around the room.

open to: f ( please reply with muses over 25 ! )

            they’re sitting in a swanky new york city restaurant– and to be completely honest, he’s shocked that he hasn’t ruined this whole thing yet. his track record with first dates isn’t all that spotless; spilled glasses of waters, fumbling over his own words, saying the entirely wrong thing. they had all happened over and over again. but there’s something about her that’s put him at ease, brought a smile onto his face. he’s just ordered them two pieces of cheesecake, thanking the waitress in a very polite manner, then looking back to his date. “i’ve really– i’ve really been enjoying this.” he feels himself growing nervous again, his heart going straight down to the pit of his stomach. “a lot more than any other date i’ve been on in a long time.”

the night felt cool and collected like finally reorganizing a terribly messy room, and his company was breezy and warm like summers where caroline grew up. she’s made a habit out of straightening out the wrinkles in her dress each time she shifts in her chair, smiling at the waitress in suit and cheesecake sounds like the most perfect thing right now (aside from the steady and well way this night was unfolding, of course). brows raise as though she’s surprised, a smile ridden with sincerity spreads at his admission  — and at the fact that she was feeling the exact same way. “seriously? because, like, i’m feeling the same way. the whole time i was like, okay, something HAS to go wrong. i’m glad you didn’t turn out to be a part of my imagination or something,” she looks down then, picking up her fork and messing with her slice a bit, making sure to pick up a piece of that crust at the bottom (she’s convinced it’s the best part of any good cheesecake), and shoveling it in her mouth. 

vincent thought he was finally doing WELL, he had tried his best to break away from the bad situations he put himself in when he was on tour but slowly he was falling back into bad habits. her touch makes him want to break down & finally show some emotion but he refuses, shaking his head as he turns from her & bending down to open up the cabinet. he reaches his hand in the back behind a fancy vase, pulling out a small envelope that was filled with ecstasy tablets.

he can feel his heart sink more & more with every second that passes them, chewing harshly on his bottom lip, tasting the metal like on his tongue from the blood, her words only sending him further over the edge. ❝ pitying myself ? there’s nothing to pity, ‘m just fucked up. it’s life. ❞  his voice is cold, emotionally void & he downs the small white pill with the whiskey placing the glass down on the table, smiling at the girl in front of him. ❝ can’t shut you out when you were never IN, billie. ❞

she’s not fazed, though she should be, by the way he’s acting. she is fazed, however, by the tools, liquid or enveloped, of his treacherous behavior. there’s something telling about his admission; the blunt and undoubted guilt lurking somewhere in his words like ghosts. he’s coming off self aware and destructive, like when people hit a wall. SHE CAN’T FIX THIS, that’s not what most people can do  —  we can only hope that the wish that we could strikes a chord somewhere in the people we care for. “you are so much more than that, don’t BULLSHIT me.” hands tighten into fists by her side as they fall, watching the way he moved. features are still when he speaks, something wicked and dreaded about his smile; an impostor of the one she had come to know in fleeting moments, when they had slipped between the cracks of all their differences and inflections, and things were just good.

when the hot liquor burns the back of his throat, he closes his eyes & grips at the crystal glass tighter as if he had never tasted such immense things before, the feeling of being in control slowly returning to his body. it’s been quite a while since his last high, being off tour meant he wasn’t around the t o x i c people who influenced him badly. he concealed it very well until he was around billie but only because she could probably see the struggling with her own eyes, the sleepless nights, the cold sweats & just the basic withdrawals he had, it had gotten so bad that he didn’t visit his own mother due to sheer embarrassment. 

  ❝ acting like what ? a MONSTER ? ❞ he spits, filling the glass once more & stepping towards the girl, one hand going to her hip, nails digging in gently.  ❝ why ‘re you still here then, darlin’ ? it’s not cause you love me, ❞ vincent scoffs, rolling his eyes.  ❝ no one could love me, hm ? too damaged, too fucked in the head. ❞ his eyes are filled with nothing but emptiness when he releases his grip & turns his back to the female, moving back over to the cabinet where he stashes his favorite things.

he was madly in love with her, so much so that the thought of her leaving could possibly KILL him but he couldn’t help but push her away. in vincent’ eyes if he shut her out before she did it to him it would h u r t less. ❝ you stickin around to see me get high or you leavin’ ? ❞

“you’re pitying yourself,” it’s not quite ACCUSATORY, cold nevertheless, but she’s just observing him, and watching him was like watching someone try and fail again and again. an endless loop of trial and error that lived inside him, expressing itself in increments of impulse (like that drink in his hand, tenfold). “when i love, i love in spite of,” the words come out careful but there’s no doubt in her eyes, her gaze tense and sure like the anxiety spread in her shoulders, her arms, nearly FREEZING under his touch. 

he wasn’t a nice person, not when he was SOBER anyway. the anger was just bubbling away inside of him, ready for the final straw to let him loose. cigarette desperately burning down to the butt as he continued to puff away at it, taking long deep inhales of the smoke. ❝ no, billie —– do YOU realize how YOU sound ? we’re not even fuckin’ official & you want to spend the holidays running around little markets, holding hands, acting like we’re both madly in love with each other ! ❞ he was being nothing more than a d i c k, he WAS in love with her which is why he was angry at the situation. vincent hadn’t asked to work over christmas, it was when his manager booked out the venues & there was simply no going back from that. he’s beginning to lose his temper, hands tugging at the short hair on his head, pacing back & forth trying his best to resist picking up something expensive & throwing it against the wall.  ❝ i need a fuckin’ drink, get out of my way. ❞ he growls, stepping past the blonde & opening up his liquor cabinet, grabbing the closest bottle, ripping the lid off & pouring it into a glass.  ❝ you’re  just someone who i keep around for when ‘m L O N E L Y, someone who i can fuck whenever i please. ❞

disbelief resides between her brows, prying wordless lips to part, agape in the type of shock only THIS VERSION of vincent could pull from her. though she’s weirdly patient this time as he speaks, and her heart breaks in silence which almost feels worse than wanting to throw a few plates around to let out all that aggression. AND SHE GUESSES THAT’S WHAT THIS WAS AFTER ALL   —  a man, scared and used up, and his aggression. he was hurting, that was for sure, and billie feels like she’s watching him maneuver around her from the unexpected solace of an out of body experience.

it’s his last words that have her burning through the atmosphere and back where she originally stood. she turns to face him, a hand falls on his shoulder, (maybe to catch his attention or to make sure he was real, and that those words were real too), her touch not gentle, nor malicious, “whenever you please?” she can’t stop the way her voice SHAKES in question, because this can’t be happening to her. arm falls back at her side, she had turned into an image of loss, stranded between where the evening began and where it had gone so wrong. 

BETTINA: karma’s got its kiss for you BETTINA: i also have a bunch of kisses reserved  BETTINA: too bad i can’t kiss you through the phone right now :(

“is that really all that you want from this?” robbie retorts, his voice barely above a whisper. “a couple thousand followers?” he rolls his eyes. “and sheesh, i’m right here, and yet you’re talking about ross lynch.” the boy tugs his arm away from the other and turns away from sebastian, nose in the air and arms crossed.

“this? THIS is exactly what it was when i explained it to you weeks ago  — fantasy. publicity. are you reading from a days of our lives script right now? because if you stole one from the screenplays from yesteryear case in my media room i’m taking back those custom fit burberry pants i got you for christmas last year.” sebastian’s eyes echo theirs, rolled into oblivion like that time he hired a bowling coach to dress like him and get a couple strikes so he could show off in front of those americans from summer camp.

f/m/nb 25+ muses your muse lives on the same floor as julien. when he gets locked out he has to rely on the kindness of attractive strangers.

julien was just about ready to give up and lurk in his car with his poor decisions when they finally opened the door. “hi. i’m over in 304. remember? i think we’ve done laundry at the same time before. so i kind of locked myself out. the locksmith is coming but they’re not going to be here for a few hours and i bought ice cream.” he raised the hand holding a brown plastic bag just a bit for emphasis. “can i borrow a bit of freezer space? i know it sounds stupid but moose tracks ice cream is too good to waste.”

the neutral look caroline opened the door with is promptly swapped with that of one more friendly. brows raise as they speak, lips pressed in thought. “304..” she replies, shoveling through her memory as they continued, she had always been a great multitasker, but never a great name-remember  — AH, “ — you were the one who i bumped into and dumped all of my dryer sheets on.” there’s a warm, fond smile spreading at the memory as the remembrance floods her brain steadily, an odd calm about her demeanor when she’s matching this near stranger to that familiarity (and in despite of everything they just explained). 

aurora: i've been craving attention lately

aurora: and i feel like you're the perfect perfect contender to gimme some :)

charlie: is that all i am to you? an ATTENTION MACHINE?