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His mouth alternates between a purse of the lips and a flat line, the hand on his good arm wavering to indicate kinda all of the above. He's already in a better mood despite the hard part still directly ahead. "I mean at this point I seem to be keeping it in a loveless partnership while it tries to see other people," Jaemin muses right back, following her orders to plop unceremoniously into the seat she gestures toward. The smile that crawls slow across his mouth is far too pleased with stuntman of the year. He knows she doesn't mean it like the compliment he takes it as but he's a glass half full kind of guy so his grin stays in place as she works off the complicated rigging of his jerk vest with deft hands. There's a high likelihood that she's getting better at it than even he is, given the process becomes torturous at the end of a day of shooting. "Being bad at bouncing is the point—" Jaemin winces a little, "—of hiring a stuntman." He eyes the phone with a look between betrayal and acceptance, the sugar in her voice causing his gaze to narrow. "And you wonder why I don't bring you flowers."

Instinctively bracing for the pain, her reminder to take a deep breath helps him relax. Exhale, inhale— pop— "AhrgaAhmmfuck!" Teeth snap shut, muffling the sound from a shout to more of an aspirated groan that's still dramatic enough to be used as a soundbite. The worst of it is over before he's even done with the noise, the relief of ice settling against the irritated joint. He accepts the pain treatment, privately touched that she remembers the flavour he likes as he pops it into his mouth and whines "mean" loudly around it out of spite. Jaemin relaxes back into the chair, adrenaline fading into the steady thrum of discomfort. "And you wonder why I don't bring you flowers," he repeats, taking the treat out of his mouth to point accusingly at her. "I'm supposed to fall. 90% of the job is falling," he deadpans but the amusement doesn't leave his gaze. Especially when he catches the fleeting softness in hers. He gently rolls his shoulders without moving the joint itself then hums affirmatively. His grin is back, a little worse for wear but genuine and crooked, "Yeah, I'm grand. No tingling nerves or anything. Never anything to fear when I know you're there to stitch me up, Whims." He shifts the lollipop to one side of his mouth and exhales heavily through his nose, exhaustion creeping up like it always does when he's been still for too long. It comes a second later, just a shade more serious: "Thank you." His head cants a little, the sly edge slipping back in, "Though you could be happier to see me."

she doesn’t even look up at first, she just hears the voice, the footsteps, and sighs like it’s a rerun of her least favorite but most-watched drama. “what is it this time?” she asks lightly, already tugging on gloves. “exploding chair? aggressive drywall? tragic encounter with physics again?” she turns to see him and quirks a brow at the state of him. the slightly crooked angle of his shoulder, the usual half-apology in his voice. “you and that shoulder really need to start seeing other people,” she muses, already gesturing for him to sit. “take a seat, stuntman of the year.” as she starts peeling the vest off, carefully navigating around the injury.

she starts to undo the jerk vest with practiced hands. her voice is teasing, but calm. “you know, for someone so committed to flinging yourself at walls, you’re really bad at bouncing.” she continues, “some people bring flowers when they visit. maybe snacks. you bring dislocations.” then, casually, she sets her phone on the table nearby and taps record. “this is for strictly medical purposes,” she says sweetly. “and also maybe my new alarm tone. depending on how dramatic you get.” her hands move expertly over his shoulder, warm and sure. without much fanfare: “okay. deep breath. we’re going on three. which, of course, means i’ll do it on two.” pop. she winces sympathetically, but her hands are steady, and she’s already tucking the cold pack into place like she’s done this a hundred times. probably because she has. and then she slides him a blue raspberry lollipop like she’s handing over state secrets. “for pain management,” she deadpans. “and because you whine less when your mouth is full.” she leans back in her chair, arms crossed, already eyeing the door like she’s expecting him back within 24 hours. “try falling on the other side next time. we’re trying to even out the damage. or don’t fall. just a thought.” but then, a quick softer glance. “you okay though, right?” quiet. casual. but real.

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She forces herself to pull back after a good, long squeeze. "It is the best surprise!" she nudges Mara, leaning back against the counter. "Awh, we should have a cookout when they get in," Clementine laughs, practically giddy. It isn't as if that's anything different for her. Mara's parents and hers aren't any less close in her friend's absence. "We can sneak off when they're all drunk around the fire and sneak cigarettes on the roof like old times," she teases but the more she thinks about it the more she wants it to happen. Hopefully it isn't too evident but her attempt to play it cool is never very effective, her heart and her face are too closely linked. "I'm— still here," Clem's laugh is a little brittle this time but she shrugs it off, crossing over to the cooler to grab a couple glass bottles of coke and offers Mara one. "The family is good. My parents are just as suffocatingly in love as always, my dad just built Ma a new stable out back for the horses so, you know," her smile is genuine this time, "We're still the only General Store in the county. They put a Target 'downtown' but you know how folks are 'round here." As loyal as they are judgmental. "So it's keeping the lights on. How are you? How's the great big world? As good as you always hoped it would be?"

to be honest, it shocked her that she had even come back, but she missed home. fleetingly. she should have just let that moment pass, but she got on a plane and flew to the carolinas where she ended up at clementine's family's store. the moment she saw the blonde, she smiled at the shock crossing her features. mara chuckled as the other woman threw her arms around her. the brunette wrapped her in her arms, as well, and she hugged her tightly. "i wanted it to be a surprise for everyone, honestly. i missed home for a minute and the moment it happened, i packed a bag...climbed onto an airplane and flew down here. i was in london. i mean, everything is still there, but...here i am." mara smiled and nodded, "i'm staying in town, at a hotel. mom and dad are flying home now - they were in california and heard i was home, so mom immediately got tickets. how are you?! how is your family? how's this place doing?"

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He holds her flush as she wraps her arms around him but her hands and her lips don't dissuade him from being honest. He murmurs against her mouth, "Doesn't matter who's fault it is," Romeo just barely shakes his head, not wanting to be the one to pull back from her in any way. "I wasn't there and it doesn't matter why— who pulled the trigger or that your father failed you again, they'll get theirs eventually— I broke my promise to keep you safe and I'm sorry," he whispered. It isn't about him, really, he just wants her to know that there's not going to be a second time he makes that mistake. She will be safe with him, no matter what happens from now on, regardless of how imperfect their journey is. When he finally does pull back a little, its his turn to hold her face. Romeo presses a kiss to each cheek and her forehead, "Let's get your meds and some water, huh? You want to get some air?"

she can hardly breathe, but it's becoming much easier. he kissed the side of her head and she just rested against his frame as her body starts to...feel again. she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. her hands moved up and down his sides as she tried to anchor herself to him. she rocked a little more, but she was calming down. she would have to take something for the panic attack to help or for the pain. she was choosing her nerve medication for the attack. maggie opened her eyes to look into romeo's and she gave him a tired smile through her tears and she shook her head, "it's not your fault," she breathed out. "i promise. none of this is your fault. it'll always be my mind's fault. my fault. my dad's fault. never yours. i will never blame you for anything." maggie cupped his face before pressing a kiss to his lips. she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her frame flush against his.

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"Pos-it-tive," he assures her, a little mhm tackled onto the end for good measure. "It's not like it'll be fun for you," he teases, lining up the ink and needle tips. It's much less of a hassle than it used to be do pieces like this, much less touching them up, since hand held tattoo guns have became much more advanced. It's basically a high-tech pen, completely cordless and much more fine-lined. Honestly, it's kind of exciting for him to get to revisit an old piece with this kind of upgrade, "Especially when we get to the white highlights." Mia's a pro, though. He knows it's light work for her. "Tell Stephen to give me a call, he's got my personal number," Jack laughs, "We'll hit up Cash's 'n have a lad's night."

mia furrowed her brow, "you sure?" she asked and then chuckled. "it has been an age," she murmured and pulled off her shirt before climbing up on the table. she undid her bra once she laid down on her stomach before she rested her head on her arms. her hair was already up in a messy knot and she yawned as she got relaxed. they'd been through a lot together, honestly. she loved him more than most and she appreciated him more than most. he had stuck around and even when they went a certain amount of time without speaking, even if not on purpose - things always seemed to piece themselves back together like usual. she took a deep breath and looked over at him, watching him get everything set up. "i was just with mum and dad, they said hi. dad said you guys need to get together for a drink one day soon, he misses you."

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"Oh, okay." Violet tramples the burning sensation crawling up the back of her sinuses because it would definitely be ridiculous to cry about her best friend finding someone else to spend her nights with. To get drunk with. To share a bed with. To kiss her in the dark. "Cool, cool." She dumps the blankets on the floor unceremoniously with the others, snagging his glass of wine off the coffee table and plopping down on the half finished nest. "Right, well you can cancel plans with me any time. It's not like you have a reason not to," Violet's smile is fragile, "It's not like I have a reason to be jealous, right? I'll always be here." She gestures vaguely to imply around and places her nearly empty glass back on the table.

elena hummed softly and she swallowed thickly as violet paused in the doorway. she looked up at the other woman and she furrowed her brow, "i...i met someone. i'm interested in. uhm, yeah. they're in a couple of my classes, you know? we've been talking a lot. we went to hang out yesterday at the pub and...well, they kissed me." elena swallowed thickly and fidgeted with her necklaces. she and violet had been hooking up every once in a while and they never spoke about it, honestly. she didn't know what to do now, honestly. her heart was pounding and she looked up at the other brunette, "it's not like...anything is really happening. but i wanted to let you know, in case like...i have to cancel plans or something. you know?"

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☕ ~ finally cool enough for me to touch my laptop again sdlkjgslkg diving into replies right away but hmu if you wanna plot or anything <3

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Mutuals feel free to hold my hand & swing it back n forth a bit if u want

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open to w / nb. (connection & plot based on source link) please read her page first.

"I thought it'd be more fun to build a nest than make the bed so I brought all of the clean lin—" She pauses in the door way, breath caught as she registers what she's just heard, "—ens." Violet's hands flex, white knuckling the second batch of bedding in her arms. "Sorry. I.. Didn't hear that right," She tries to pull it off casually, still caught between the frame. "You said you? Met someone interesting? Like you mean you met an interesting person, right?" A chink in her armor appears, quickly smothered out by a hasty smile, "Or did you say you met someone you're interested in?"

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open to w / nb. (connection & plot based on source link) please read her page first.

"What— are you...?" Shock flutters like a live thing caught in her chest, bashing around inside the cage of her ribs. Her stomach somersaults but it only lasts a second before excitement bubbles up, burning. "Doing here?!" Clementine moves around the counter and despite the time apart, throws her arms around them like nothing has changed. "You didn't tell me you where coming! Are you just— stopping by or?" Questions come quickly, fluttering out of her mouth like the pleads of that thing desperate to get out and she can hear it in her voice. The desperation. Her dimples do a good job of hiding it as she pulls back. Clementine asks, "Are you staying in town?" but what she means is 'when are you leaving me again?'.

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It takes little adjustment to accommodate, he lets her turn to settle into him and then wraps his arms tighter around her. His heart breaks as she trembles there, fingers curled behind his back. He leaves one arm wrapped around the small of her back and lifts his other hand to pet her hair, pressing kisses to the side of her head. "I'm sorry," Romeo whispers, wishing there was more he could do than just hold her through the hard part of the night. If life hadn't happened the way it did, could he have prevented this? The thought won't do him any good now but it lingers in the background; this horrible thing that happened while they were apart. "It's over now and I can get you something for the pain," he promises, resting the side of his head against hers and just holding her tight, mindful of the place causing her grief. There's no way he's letting go of her until the trembling subsides but there is a meaty cocktails of things in the bathroom cabinet that will at least take the edge off.

she feels his arms wrap around her and he's rocking her back and forth as she sobbed. then he was speaking to her. she gripped onto him as she slowly came down and she whimpered, trying to breathe properly. nightmares like this came a lot, but this was one of the worst she'd dealt with in a while. she was ready to pass out as she held onto him. she turned in his hold and climbed into his lap. she buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him as tightly as she possibly could. she felt numb and she curled her fingers into his back and she trembled in his hold. "my side is k-killing me. the nightmare was hor-horrible," she hiccupped.

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Wren isn't used to such personal clients or the kind of appreciation Maggie expresses. Generally, she's contracted by some big corporation and if they're particularly pleased she receives an edible arrangement or a vase of flowers, maybe a basket of the company products or merch. None of which are nearly as spectacular as a lovely woman stumbling through offering to be there if she needs anything, much less do her chores. "You want to do my dishes?" She muses, seated, legs folded on the floor next to a table of paperwork and Chinese food containers. There are about twelve coffee cups of varying size in her kitchen sink and while it's not something she's desperate to have taken care of the notion of having someone else to do something so mundane and sweet is very heartwarming. "Why don't you join me instead— Are you hungry? I've got at least two of everything from that place we ordered lunch from last week and I would much rather share then spend the next week reheating them for dinner as intended." Wren gestures with chopsticks to one of the other sofa cushions she had removed, its twin already underneath her for comfort. "This isn't work, technically. I was picking the photos I liked best from the shoot to use as click bait on sponsored search results. It never hurts to get the subject's opinion."

. for @middlefade !!

maggie shows up with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her cardigan, standing awkwardly by the door like she isn’t sure if she should knock or just quietly vanish. her hair’s a little messier than usual, eyes darting from the floor to wren’s face and back again. “hi,” she starts, then clears her throat and tries again with a sheepish smile. “so, um … i know this is random, but i had some time today ⸻ like, actual free time, which is rare, and i just … thought i’d come by. not to bother you! or add more to your plate, or anything like that, i swear.” she lets out a nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot. “i just figured, i don’t know, if you needed anything. i could help. not like, uh, picking something up in public. obviously. but anything else.” her hands do a fluttery wave before she tucks them back into her sleeves, biting the inside of her cheek. “you’ve done so much for me and still doing so much, i just … i wanted to be here. if you need me.” her voice softens. “and return the favor somehow. i can do your dishes?”

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He woke as the mattress shifted, sleep bleary eyes trying to grasp the sudden franticness in the room with them. "Magdalena?" Romeo's voice cracked over her name as she moved about the room like a wounded animal. He shoved the blankets back, wrestling against the dark to flick one of the bedside lamps on. It's not fast enough to catch her knees from hitting the floor but he's beside her as quickly as his feet can carry him then. He breathed her name again, sounded wounded himself. He gathers her in his arms, gently cradling her head. "Mag- hey, honey, it's over. It's over," he murmurs, pressing mouth against the top of her head, rocking with her, trying to help her self sooth. "Come back to me, Magdalena."

closed starter for my brother in christ, @middlefade, for magdalena & romeo.

she woke up panting and crying and gripped onto her t-shirt. she was sweating and she climbed out of the bed to try and pace the room. she had heard romeo say her name, but she couldn't register what was going on, honestly. she felt searing pain in her side and she gasped as she tried to calm herself down. she paced the room back and forth as the blood and screaming and her father's voice boomed inside of her head. she struggled to pace and dropped to her knees and she leaned over, clutching her chest as the attack didn't seem to fade. she rocked back and forth as she tried to do her breathing techniques.

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She can feel years of her life shaved off as Wren twirls, preening and regrets stating the obvious fact of her beauty. Especially when the immediate insult follows. Evie can't help but flick her gaze around the modest shop, ivy climbing the shelves, trinkets, crystals, books and charms on display. Linen crochet curtains flutter in the breeze and her pride ragefully flares. It follows, swelteringly hot, along the line Wren's fingertip traces down her front. Her jaw clenches down at the phantom of a kiss upon her cheek. There's no time between the sting of her teeth on her tongue and the blonde disappearance where she can get a word in edgewise. Composure melts off her as she latches the door closed, swings the sign to read accordingly and then turns on her heel to storm into the back. She grabs her sweater off a chair, shoves her face into it and screams, muffling the sound. How did it always come to this? Where, in what life, exactly when, did her existence get inseparably threaded through Wren's? In all the horrible things they've lived through and done to each other— how did it become that their ashes should be forced to rest together like some sapphic nightmare? She can never remember the first death. But- she sure as all hell can cause one. It isn't be the first time, it's doubtful it'll be the last but maybe she can buy herself one lifespan of Wren-lessness before the fates yank the red thread taut again. She swells with delight at the notion. If there is shame in the concept, she doesn't acknowledge it. Optimism steadies her hand into making a odorless draught that, while not her specialty, is capable of getting the job done. It will take one sip and maybe four hours to work but that's plenty of time to remove herself from the scene. Evie can make it through a round at the hotel bar; she's endured much, much worse in Wren's company.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Despite spending the majority of her time in this town, the hotel is not a place she's particularly familiar with but the bar isn't hard to find. Plans aside, she feels rather stupid walking in, wearing a white sundress and loose curls when most others seem to be adorned in business attire. Perhaps that's why when her eyes pick Wren out of the crowd she feels a little relieved. The invitation wasn't just a ruse, then. Why that matters in the face of what Evie intends to do is something she doesn't dwell on. "You're buying," she says as she reaches her side, hands nervously fiddling with her rings as if she doesn't know what to do with herself now that she's here. They've had drinks before- not for a long while but there's at least two speakeasies they've haunted in more or less hostile pasts.

she rolled her eyes, "don't be so dramatic, honestly," she murmured and waved her hand at the other woman. she tipped her head to the side and smiled in evie's direction. "aw, you think i'm pretty?" she cooed and twirled around before shaking her head. "i already have a room at the hotel around the corner. you know me, i need everything perfect and well...this place is not it." she hummed and ran her fingers through her hair. "you should come have drinks at the bar, though. in the hotel." she traced her fingertip over the front of evie's shirt, trailing between her breasts and down her abdomen. she smirked and wrinkled up her nose.

wren hummed and she wiggled before grabbing her things and she opened the door to the shop before snapping her fingers. a young man appeared and she beamed, "thank you, aaron. you know where to take them." the tiny blonde turned to evie and she raised her eyebrows. she leaned over and brushed her lips against the brunette's cheek before winking, "i'll see you later. i'll be waiting in the bar, darling!" she sang as she walked out of the shop and headed to the hotel, her musical like laughter echoing throughout the street.

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If there's a more endearing sight than this one, she hasn't seen it. "Hi," Sumi watches him from the foyer, door open. "Ah, God Whiskers will be pleased with your blessing," she teases, the quality of the items not lost on her. Her own smile splits wide, charmed by Jinu's dedication to the cat and the offer to help her.

"That's very sweet—" There's a soft bark from inside, as if Sable is personally testifying against his jealousy- or perhaps accepting the offer of emotional support. Sumi laughs, continuing, "I couldn't be more grateful, really. I always need help with something or other if you're truly up to join me in my indentured servitude..." She pads down the steps to pick up the bag of food. "You can start by bringing the castle to the cat room while I get you a Benadryl?" She shoulders the weight of the bag and says over it on the way back inside, "It's the one without a door on the second floor so if you give me a minute, I can help you with the gate and the stairs." The foyer, kitchen and the little breakfast nook within is the only section of the house separated by gate from the animals she personally houses or fosters. They have reign of the rest of the house and the large fenced in yard. There's an enclosure as well, for the particularly wily ones. She's only gone a moment, cat food set on the kitchen counter for later, and reappears with a small glass of water and the promised allergy medication. She'd never let him clean with an allergy like that since its primarily fur but she is genuinely touched he suggested it. "He's missed you, too, by the way. Whiskers," she says as she offers it to him, "He sleeps on the blanket you brought him to me with. Very territorial of it. Gave Sable a good snoot whack for sniffing around it."

. for @middlefade !!

knocks twice before letting himself into the gate, balancing a bag of cat supplies in one arm and holding a suspiciously overpriced cat tower with the other. “hey,” he calls out, squinting toward the house like he’s bracing for something. “i brought offerings for whiskers, the one true ruler of my heart and nasal passages.” he sets the stuff down gently by the porch, rubbing his nose already. “so, uh, i was thinking i’d hang around for a few days? not in your house—relax, i’m not that guy—but like… my car’s got decent air flow.” he grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i just figured if you needed help with anything—feeding schedules, cleaning, emotionally supporting the dog who’s definitely jealous of the cat—i’m around.” a beat. “plus i missed whiskers. even if he’s trying to kill me slowly.”

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It takes her a second to catch up as if her mind stopped computing and she lags through a refresh. "I'm sorry— some times it's hard to switch off the work mindset," Wren chuckles, shaking her head. She can't remember the last time social media felt legitimately social. "It's a good picture, it's very sweet, it will definitely bait pretty girls." She flushes but the smile toying with her mouth is genuine.

Orion's eyes flicker down to the photo in question, a photo of her posing with one of her crew member's dogs while on set. The comparison pulls a hearty laugh from their lips. "No, no I think we should keep going with the fishing metaphors. Maybe something about how I'm baiting for likes from pretty girls," she teases back, only taking herself as seriously as she needs to.

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The muffled sound of her crew chuckling as they reset for another take keeps her grounded. She's not the only one who finds the situation ridiculous. Some of those laughs might be at her expense but they know she can do this job, she knows she can do this job: she has nothing to prove. Well, to anyone in this room. Coleen's family had warned her that no and effort were very loosely accepted terms in the woman's vocabulary. Firm hand was a phase they uses very liberally. She just hopes they'd meant it because she may sorely need the money— but she wasn't going to lay down and be trampled for it. Mina's temple pulses as the muscle around her eye twitches from the strain of not taking the bait. "Crew, give us the room. Take lunch," her voice remains level, the edge of it blunted. Her jaw clenches so slightly, head canting to fix her with an unbothered gaze, "You stay." she points at Coleen, and waits until the last of the team closes the door behind them.

"If you would put the fraction of the effort into the performance I actually need from you as you are this hissy fit, we'd be done already," She tries to retain some semblance of her professionalism despite how quickly her self preservation is eroding. The cause is abandoned as each word slides against the next like a wet stone, sharpening. "My job is to make you look the best you possibly can by rebranding your lackluster reputation into something worthy of your ego, not manufacturing something out of nothing." Deep breath, bitch. Deep breath.

"You think anyone in the industry cares who your mommy and daddy are? Money will get you into a studio, it will open almost any door but if you can't carry yourself on more than that you won't make it. You will become a joke. Being young and hot doesn't last forever and there will be a day when people get bored of just looking at your face." She should shut right the fuck up but the deep breaths still aren't slowing her down. "If you want to waste the prime of your life as a meme about nepotism and spend the next thirty years on the cusp of relevancy as a byproduct of your parent's name until they decide to cut you off, then fine, do nothing. Coast like this. If you want to be somebody so fucking fabulous that your family name won't matter at all because the public loves you, and you have enough money to buy and sell your parents, then stop wasting everybody's time— and act like you give a damn." She can feel the mistake before she's done making it. Oh, she's definitely getting fired. "Take lunch to think about it." Before her hands start to visibly tremble, Mina turns to root through her bag for her bottle of Excedrin.

a heavy sigh slips from her lips, loud and theatrical. she’s not used to doing things twice ⸻ or doing much at all, really. existing used to be enough for everyone she worked with before. she still doesn’t understand why her parents would hire someone so amateur. the girl clearly doesn’t know what to do with the materials she’s been given, no matter how much she’s already handed over. “what more do you want from me? i shouldn’t be the one suffering because of your incompetence. we’ve been doing the same thing over and over,” she huffs. “do you know i only do these kinds of things once? uno. one time. i’ve literally exhausted myself,” she adds, dramatic, obviously, but everyone knows that’s part of the performance. “what is wrong with you? i need a break,” she says, rising from her seat and rolling her eyes. “do you even know what you’re doing? you're wasting my time.”

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reblog if it's okay for people to mention your muse(s) in their threads!