Gregg Sulkin

Muse: Damien Turner (24-27 yo, fc: gr.eg sul.kin) Open starter inspired by this (open to f)

She was crying. Standing at his door, drenched from the rain, with eyes puffy and red from tears, she looked worse than he’d ever seen her. Her makeup was a mess. Had she walked there, all the way, in the rain? Judging from her laboured breathing, she’d probably run more than walked.

“What the hell happened?” He heard himself utter the concerned phrase before he’d even fully decided on what to do. Last they’d seen each other was that party three weeks ago, where she’d gotten in a huge fight with her boyfriend. He’d tried to comfort her… and they’d ended up sleeping together. Admittedly not his finest hour, but it’d happened, and he hadn’t heard from her since, so he’d moved on. Now here she was, clearly upset (again), and he was honestly pretty unsure of the right protocol.

Muse: Catalina Murillo (fc so.fia car.son ~ open to using an alt though) Open historical and/or fantasy verse starter (m only). If strictly historical, just swap kingdom for country. Plot is pretty open, but I have several ideas. E.g. your muse could be her womanizing betrothed (maybe he's not even a womanizer and it's just a rumour, idk), or his younger brother who has designs to go for the throne himself or who has a crush on her or maybe just wants to fuck over his brother, or literally anyone else; a noble, a guard, a servant. Could be dark or not, I'm open. Hmu if you want to talk ideas! :')

Catalina had been betrothed to the crown prince of a neighbouring kingdom since before she was able to walk. The marriage represented an alliance her kingdom desperately needed for the manpower his kingdom had in spades, and his kingdom needed for the wealth and trade routes of hers. It was mutually beneficial in every way. Trouble was his reputation and the fact that after two weeks at his court she'd yet to see anything to disprove the rumours. Quite the opposite in fact. So she'd been cold, kept a wall of her ladies between herself and him, hiding behind rules of propriety in order to keep her distance. It had worked just fine... until tonight's ball to celebrate that a date for the long awaited wedding had finally been set.

She'd needed a moment to herself. The air was stuffy inside, heavy with perfumes, egos and ambition, so she'd left her ladies to their courtiers inside and gone for a stroll in the garden. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned on the spot, skirts billowing around her as she did. Chocolate hues widened at the sight of him. "Oh. You."

Her nose scrunched slightly at his insistence, the sharpness of his tone, the set of his brow and the way his tongue brushed over his lips a clear indicator that his patience with her was not unlimited. "I care," she murmured almost more to herself than to him, her voice lowered to just above a whisper. She'd always cared what others thought of her, probably even beyond what was reasonable. Suppose that was natural with a father whose military career ensured he was never home and a mother who expected her three children to live up to a stellar family reputation in order to please said absent father. It wasn't until she'd met Beckett that she'd rebelled for the first time in her life. He was everything her mother had never wanted for her, and in a way that was part of the initial appeal. More so, however, he filled a void she hadn't been aware of until then.

Somewhere in her consciousness, Alli was aware that she was being manipulated, but when Beckett touched her like that, thumb gently caressing the softness of her cheek, and he spoke with that soft persuasive purr in his voice, she was helpless to do anything but lean into his touch with a content exhalation of breath. Teal hues peered up at him through a veil of dark lashes, a soft smile blooming on her lips when he smiled down at her then. The words he spoke caused a flutter in the pit of her stomach, a flutter that manifested itself in growing warmth in her eyes. "Only yours," she breathed in response. She leaned into his kiss, head tilting back to accommodate the height difference and mewled ever so softly when he pulled back much too soon. "I know." Her fingers on his chest twitched, curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt while a nervous little laugh escaped her. "That's the problem. That I'm..." she paused briefly, lower lip rolling between her teeth in thought, unsure how to put her doubt into words - unsure how to articulate that she didn't know how to be okay with people knowing the extent of what she'd be willing to do for him. Eventually, she gave up and shook her head with a soft smile. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter." She shrugged a shoulder and brushed the tip of her nose against his. "So when is this... ehm, demonstration?... supposed to take place?"

❛ like i said — who cares how they fuckin' look at you baby, none of that matters,❜ beckett argued, though his words were a bit more sharp than he intended, tongue gliding along his lower lip as he willed himself to find patience. to not push allison too far away from the idea but, instead, ease her into it. allison would come around — she always did. ❛ you're mine, princess... all we'd be doin' is showing them that for certain. they won't be able to think of you without seeing me. seeing US— together.❜ his hand came to her cheek, the pad of his thumb gently grazing it's surface, a tender gesture coming in stark contrast from the manipulating tone he was using with her otherwise. this was his girl, his baby; she'd do what he wanted her to. even if it took her a minute to come around to the idea.

he noticed her reaction to the use of her full name, and for a moment he felt a small swell of guilt, one that was quickly diminished as she writhed in his grip, seeming to be facing an internal battle of wanting to please him and not being sure. beckett liked knowing the power he had when it came to his girlfriend, a woman whom he did undeniably love, but she was so stubborn sometimes. so insecure. he knew that if she just trusted him, she'd enjoy this — she'd enjoy having everyone see that she was his, no room to question if there was a crack or a rift worth penetrating between them. it would not only be hot, but he would be claiming her in front of other men who may think they have a chance with her in outside of their wildest fantasies. greedy eyes watched as her tongue dampened her lower lip, and a pleased grin ornamented his own as she finally agreed. just as he knew she would. ❛ that's my good girl, ❜ beckett cooed, a sudden softness to his words as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers, smiling against her mouth; ❛ i promise you, baby, whatever nervousness you're feeling now... you'll forget all about it when i'm taking care of you.❜

Liam Hemsworth

He could all but track the fear as it grew in Imogen's gaze. He took no pleasure in it, but he also didn't do anything to soften the blow of the information he delivered. He could have lied, could have spun some kind of tale like his sister would have, but Reid had little energy for that route today. His brow furrowed minutely at her questions. "I told you not to ask questions you don't want answers to." His gaze cut to the way her fingers curled, her anxiousness clear as day, and he expelled a tired sigh, slowly releasing her wrist from his grasp. "You have nothing to fear as long as you stay quiet," he told her then. "Breathe a word of this, any of this, and I can't do shit to guarantee your safety." He lowered his head slightly, eyes locked intently on hers. Where his grandfather's business was concerned, all bets were off. "You understand? It'll be out of my hands, Imogen."

Imogen's gaze flicked to his lips, watching them stretch into a smile, before her attention was back on the cloth. She continued to wipe away the blood until she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist. Her eyes locked with his and for a second she felt her heart stop. Her heart beating faster in her chest as he removed the cloth from her hand. Had she asked the wrong question? Too many questions? "I know," she spoke quietly, "but surely you didn't attack someone unprovoked? With them not able to defend themselves?" Had he really walked away from whatever this thing was, without a scratch? Trying to control her breathing, she didn't let her gaze waver. "Did you?" Her fingers curled into fists, unsure how she should take the fact that he was holding on to her. "Should I be scared?"

@munofmanyminds

"Fine. So secrets and not lies then." Meela's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug accompanied by a shallow sigh and a slight roll of her eyes. "Doesn't really make much of a difference." Both of her brows rose on her forehead for a moment when she confessed, then fell into a subtle frown. "Oh..." the exclamation was soft, thoughtful even. "And this is... why you've been acting so... off?"

"I never lied to you. I just didn't tell you everything. There's a difference." It's semantics and she knows it. " I'm not good at--" she gestures between them. For someone who spent her life being vulnerable, she was incredibly bad at being vulnerable herself. "I like you okay. Actually like you. The just sex thing? I'm not good at it. I tried-- you know? I wanted to be cool-- but I'm not built like that. I'm not cool. I--- I like you."

Briefly, Meela considered her options. Essentially: lie, omit or tell the truth. Consideration crossed her features as she did, lips pursing minutely. Then: "Technically, that's Jenny's rule. Not mine." The gentle correction was made with a smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "If she'd wanted to go for Alex or Jackson, she'd be welcome to." Not that Meela could say much to recommend either of her brothers, but that was besides the point. "Besides, it's a rule that only applies to friends. And since she's recently decided to terminate our friendship, I figure... nothing ventured, nothing gained." No use lying to him, really. She was sure Jenny would throw a fit when she found out and tell him everything regardless.

Running into Meela wasn't odd. It only struck him as odd that he hadn't seen her around at the house anymore. Diego usually didn't get involved in his siblings' life, but her absence was noticeable. After the pleasantries and the quick catch up, the last thing he expected was her blunt statement. Now, Diego couldn't deny that she was incredibly attractive, but the thought of them together hadn't crossed his mind in a while. It did once, early on, and Jenny was quick to remind him that her friends were off-limits. "I'm intrigued, and for the record, I'm not saying no. But, whatever happened to that 'no looking at Diego or Luke' rule you and my sister had?"

Dresden wasn't an outwardly emotional person. Calm and collected to a fault, his true feelings were often deeply concealed in the back of his mind, never to find purchase on his features. Logic and reason dictated his actions, and right now logic and reason led him to believe she had to have had a good reason for leaving, and most importantly - for returning. So he opted for a polite welcome. For now. Closing the door after her, Dresden's brow furrowed slightly at her words. Remaining quiet for a moment, he shook his head with a sigh and turned towards her, gaze drifting to the child beside her. A child whose appearance and apparent age made his mind jump to conclusions he could do little to prevent, much as he wanted to. "I only changed my number a few months ago, Laurel. It's been years." His gaze ventured back to hers then. "Why now? And why... -" He paused with a sigh and made a gesture towards the living room. "Let's go sit down, alright? Would you like anything to drink?" He glanced briefly at the child. "Either one of you?"

The doorstep was the same, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. The tiny hand holding on to hers felt heavy as she knocked and took a step back to wait. Laurel expected many reactions, some she had even imagined in her head on the drive here. Many questions, a request to leave his home immediately, or just plain - no answer. Still, she was not expecting this one, Dresden opening the door and inviting her in. She nodded slowly, "right. Of course." Explanation was a given, and Laurel had been ready to do so - but standing in front of him now...it all kind of disappeared from her mind. She stepped inside, but not walking much further into the place. Unsure where to start, she started with the most insignificant part. "I tried calling you a few times, but the call never went through."

Head moving slowly from side to side, Marcus' lips drew into an almost exhilarated smile of amusement at her words. "Oh no, that wouldn't be any fun," he drawled, lifting the gun to trail it up the valley between her breasts before pressing it to the underside of her jaw, forcing her to tilt head back to accommodate the barrel of the gun. Meanwhile, his other hand snapped forward, grabbing her phone to pull it from her fingers. It was tossed to the floor before him, and then - with a sudden change in his stance - his hand shifted to her throat. Fingers curled around the column of tender flesh beneath her chin, tight but not yet squeezing. The gun-wielding hand dropped, crossing over his middle to his hip, and then a shot was fired at the floor, instantly cracking and effectively destroying her only means of contacting the outside world. "There. I really hate interruptions when I'm working." He smiled at her in a way that almost seemed harmless - and then let go of her throat to pat the top of her head, as if she were a dog. "Now, sit down like I asked. Join your family for dinner. They've missed you."

By the time Laurel had arrived back at the lake house, dinner should have started already. She sighed, knowing she'd be chided for her late arrival. But in her defense, the roads leading back to the family lake house had continued to confuse her despite the yearly summer trip. As she turned the corner, expecting them to be well into their course, she called out, "Yes, I know I'm late. Can we leave the scolding til after--" Her voice cut off, a scream nearly escaping her throat as she took in the scene before her. Stumbling back, she knocked into the entryway. Tears sprang to her eyes, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. How? Why? As she shakily pulled her phone from her back pocket, something moved in the corner of her eye. The stranger emerged too quickly for her to do anything, something shoved to her chest - her eyes widened as it dawned on her what it was. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth as Laurel was ordered to take a seat beside her bloodied family. Gaze landing on her dead mother, she found her voice, albeit meek and terrified. "Please - don't do this," she pleaded, expecting the worse to happen. "I-I won't say anything about you if you just leave."

It was hard to anticipate what the girl might do. Even being as exceedingly adept as Marcus was at reading people and responding accordingly, he didn't know. Not her initial response at least. He had a pretty decent sense of what she might become, what he might be able to push her to, but not how far she was willing to go without... encouragement. So he paid close attention to the flicker of doubt in her gaze, followed by a decisive move to grab the moist piece of fabric offered to her. In response, something flickered in the male's gaze. Whether it be pride, excitement or sheer surprise was anyone's guess at this point, because it quickly worked itself into sheer glee, underlined thoroughly by the way his lips curled upwards in a downright perverse smirk.

He'd turned his attention to the sleeping couple, ready to move, to set things in motion, damn near giddy with the thrill of it, when he was interrupted by the girl's highly inconvenient hesitation, catching it out of the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her, gaze flickering from the offered fabric to her eyes. The tip of his tongue followed the edge of his teeth, rolling between two rows of pearly whites as an impatient breath left his nostrils. The couple could wake up any moment, could alert the whole neighbourhood if he didn't time things right, and standing in the room, his options in giving the girl the push she needed to comply were limited. A look of contemplation crossed his features briefly as he thought over his options.

Then Marcus glanced over his shoulder towards the sleeping couple and in a sudden move, turned to face the bed. The gun was raised and fired in one fateful blur of motion before the bullet collided with Valerie's father's face, travelling up through the line of his nose and directly into his brain. He was dead instantly, his face a mess of blood and bone. The slight commotion, however, caused the mother to stir from her slumber, so Marcus moved quickly once more. She managed to croak out half a protest before he'd covered her face with the soaked cloth, holding her head down against the pillow beneath until her limbs went slack. Breathing heavy, the rise and fall of his chest pronounced, he raised his head in the shadows and turned it to look at her, eyes dark and hooded with sinister intent. Like she was next.

valerie's eyes immediately fell on the sleeping bodies of her parents once they were in their bedroom, noticing how still and at peace they looked. it sickened her to know that they could sleep so soundly doing what they did — as val knew for certain she wouldn't likely be getting a wink of rest without having flashbacks to what she and her assailant had uncovered in the basement. for months, valerie had been a prison here; forced to withdraw from society and tend to the house whilst her parents committed heinous crimes beneath the very same roof... it was no wonder that she had snapped, that being face to face with what her parents had done numbers to her psyche in such a short period of time — enough so for her to look to this stranger who not too long ago was holding her at knife and gun point as some kind of twisted savior. tightening her jaw, she remained perfectly still as the man prepped two cloths, eyes hardened and focused on the bodies of her parents and wondering what THEY would look like all chopped up... the same way they had done to who knows how many people.

valerie's gaze flickered to his as he presented her with a cloth, looking down at it with hesitation gracing stone-cold features, but just for a moment, only needing to take one more look at her parents before she turned back to face him; confidently reaching out and taking what was presented to her. valerie's heart was clambering in her chest, bouncing off ribs to the point where she was surprised it wasn't audible, clutching the cloth so tight she could feel it's dampness on the skin of her palm. licking her lips, valerie looked down at it, then back up at him once more. suddenly frowning, she quickly shook her head and held the rag back out to him, hand trembling. ❛ no — i can't, ❜ she mouthed, breaths picking up speed as a borderline panic sank into her. she couldn't be like them... valerie had to know that this kind of thing didn't run in her blood; that the aiding in the slaughter of her parents wouldn't feel like second nature.