indie rp - multi-verse/multi-ship - mun & muse 18+
It was in that moment that Genevieve felt the silent rush; she was willing to be with Asher no matter the issue. Standing on tip toes, she returned the hardened kiss, her fingers working to slide into his hair, chest pressing to his with pleasure. Already having to deal with her own personal issues, the brunette rocked herself back onto her heels, her eyes opening once to view Asher before lingering further into the kiss. Upon pulling back, golden hues kept on his, her lips twitching into a smile. ”I love you.” Her voice ached the words, nose brushing against his, her fingers holding his face steadily in her hands. ”I love you so much, please, don’t ever forget that.”
Nodding for no reason. Letting himself fall for the foolish hope that it served a purpose. To let her know that he bestowed trust, abandoned himself to her words. Feelings, deep as the ocean. Emotions crawling underneath his skin. Causing him to lean into her again, hands still firmly cupping her face. Refusing to let go. Lips parting against hers, granting her access if it wasn’t for his tongue, slowly stroking her lower lip. Caressing the thin skin with soft flesh hiding underneath. Eyes closed, body close to hers. Feeling the warmth that radiated from her, poked his skin underneath the layers of heavy fabric.
She’d almost thought the business of others was non-existent—she was too used to banal small talk and nonsensical mumbles. Substantial conversation had long passed her by, so his last sentence made her pause, a hand still elevated and nerves pulsing in the pit of her stomach. “Wow. Tha’s kind of shitty…” Charlie trailed off. “Sorry, I guess.” She offered a ghost of a smile.
The lack of air conditioning hadn’t mattered to her when she’d come in but as the night had continued, the surge of bodies and her sweltering leather jacket had driven her to distraction; though if she took it off, she knew it would be taken. Thieves thrived in clubs and train stations, she was pretty sure. She fanned herself with one hand, taking occasional glances towards the man beside her.
Finally, she spoke again: “I’m literally going to pass out if I stay here much longer.” (Her father came to mind: I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.)“It’s boiling and I’m pretty sure somebody puked.” Where they were, she wasn’t sure, but the scent was unmistakable.
A twitch in his eyelid, a momentary change on his phlegmatic features. Even if she was sincere, meant that she was sorry about his former friends, that hadn’t done him any good, in no moment of his life, there was no need to. He’d tried to exchange unnecessary emotions for apathy. A business that worked, everyday a little better for the past seven years. Nobody should be fooled. He had a betraying heart, a foolish soul. Two things, that were cheating and mischievous, cheated on him on a regular basis. And he had to cover it up, with a stoic masquerade.
Used, to the stiff air inside the room with the vibrations sent through your body. Starting by your feet, heavy on the black ground of the commonly dark surroundings, with occcasional colorful, bright neon lights flashing up, here and there.
Brows furrow, He didn’t doubt it. Knowing from past experiences, memories of a time long gone, that this wouldn’t be the first time that this happened. Usually, caring, more empathetic, he’s now a little cold. Shooting her a glance, couldn’t bring up the effort of worrying, when she was still standing on her two feet. “Welcome to the nightlife.” And he remembered why he’d avoided it for the past years, as he caught a gentle grip on her wrist, leading her through the masses, toward the exit, with the promise of fresh, cold air.
When one of my favorite RP partners is interacting with someone else more:
Send me a ღ and I will tell you my character's thoughts about yours -- quoting a line from a book!
"I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”
——- John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.
Send me a ‘Shut up’ for my muse to kiss yours.
It’d been a few days since she’d been home; ten, if you wanted to be exact, and for some reason, the tension between herself and Asher appeared to grow, well, nearly sickly. His hands on her, her fingers in his hair. It was as if they couldn’t handle being away from one another . Truth be told, it shocked Genevieve to even see this kind of behavior from Asher. Especially when she began to ramble.
Staring him over as she spoke about her adventures, there was a glimmer in his blue optics, hands reaching to touch along her jawline, examining her features to see if she’d grown older, if only possible. ”Genevieve.” He spoke her name, his voice soft, reminding her of when he’d sing subtle lullabies to her. ”Shut up.”
At the soft demand, the brunette nodded, her lips twisting into a grin as he grabbed for her, tugging her to his lap. No words were spoken as he began to feel out the playing field, his thumbs pressing along her cheekbones, his lips so near yet far.
Once more, he shook his head, large hands capturing her features before giving her a bruising kiss, one laced with passion that never could be riddled from such lips of her boyfriend. Primal movements began necessary; fingers diving into one another’s hair, lips becoming coaxed to battle for domination.
Tangled in a web that couldn’t be undone, he grabbed at her being, lifting the brunette tightly as slender legs wrapped around his being. His footsteps brought her near the bedroom till halting roughly at the wall, almost as if to claim this area with his hands pressed to wall, guarding her as he shamelessly kissed his woman.
Till pulling away did they finally breath, his gaze narrowing to note the golden orbs overwhelming Genevieve’s eyes, a side note to him that he’d done something right. ”Don’t you ever leave again.” His voice was brash, hold on her tightening. ”Promise me you will never leave again.”
It was a promise to a monster, but one she could keep, although the words hadn’t yet to slip from swollen lips till glancing upwards, noting the sheer sullen features of a lover gone lost without the other; as if to be a lamb without its shepherd, she no sooner found that love was a higher grounded promise then either ever expected yet no sooner were lips parting to speak.