send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle || @virentis​: 🎁 || accepting. ||

→ Can’t Pretend by Tom Odell

If he knows the rhythm of her heart, if he can hear each drum beat against the veil of her skin, then he doesn’t show it. If he knows how her breath hitches in much the same way that his does, lungs and bones quivering, he is the perfect actor. Of course he is– Khan, who would much rather surround himself with chaos and violence than decipher human emotion, who would rather become ice in lieu of fire. No secrets are kept when it comes to the frost of him, of his tongue; comfort is found in his work and not in people.

Rey is different– how can he deny that? She’s a new sequence, something perfect and unknown. Mathematical and poetic– he could tell her how to measure beauty and she would still score out of the scope, far beyond it.

–When did he become so unpredictable? There was danger in thawing. 

     “That one is from a rival. I was twenty-four,” his statement is low, relying on the silence between them to let her hear him, to let her see into the parts of him he’s so meticulously flayed open for her. Darkened, rough scar tissue contrasts the pale of him, an old knife wound etched into his left side, just under the rib cage. It’s one of many that have taken root in him, yet one of the few that managed to heal so poorly, despite his best efforts. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she glanced over to see Ben's curls spilled out on her pillows, looking especially sweet in sleep. Rey wasn't ready for the morning to end, and she leaned over to wrap the blankets, and herself, more securely around him, nuzzling close to kiss his cheek as she tried to fall back to sleep with him.

                    ❛   i’d   really   rather   you   not   ask   about   what   i   do   for   a   living .   ❜    shelly   mutters   ,   something   about   her   blue   gaze   intense   and   unwavering .     she’s   changed   from   the   naïve   little   girl   she   once   was .     she   looks   away   ,   taking   her   teacup   in   hand   and   having   a   sip   of   her   earl   grey .     she’s   too   young   for   mimosas   yet   ,    ❛   my   father   was   rich   ,   and   so   am   i .     that’s   all   you   need   to   know .   ❜

@virentis​   asked    :    “   if   someone   tells   me   one   more   time   “   enjoy   your   youth   ,   ”   I’m   gonna   cry .   ”    for   jocelyn   or   whomever   strikes   out   at   you

sour   sentence   starters . status    :    accepting .