Rory Grinned, The Kind Of Easy, Lopsided Smile That Made His Fans' Knees Feel Unsteady. "Ember," He Repeated

This has been on my mind for long but I’m gonna do this - please reblog this if you’re comfortable with pre-establishing relationships. I do not mean “met at the grocery store two weeks ago” or “have a common friend”, but rather stuff like “have been best friends since kindergrden”, “go for a beer every friday”, “friends with benefits”, “dated in highschool”, “hate each other’s guts because -insert reason-”  etc. Something meaningful (but not necessarily shippy) and I mean with muns/characters you have not interacted with, because I cannot believe I am the only one who prefers jumping right into the heart of the human interaction

Astrid stared at the door, from the couch. Waiting to see if her visitor would disappear. The knocks sent a dull thud through her skull, each one landing like an unwelcome heartbeat. She knew it was Roman.

Of course, it was Roman. No one else cared enough to physically come to her apartment to check on her.

She hadn't meant to disappear—not really. But the weight of everything had settled in thick, pressing her into the couch, into the mattress, into the silence. Days blurred. Maybe weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she responded to a text.

Another set of knocks. His voice, firm but not unkind. Her fingers curled tight around the edge of a blanket she hadn't realized she dragged from the couch as she made her way over to the door, still not opening it.

Her throat was dry. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “what do you want?”

- open to: f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: roman serrano, mid-late twenties, twitch streamer who's just gotten pretty popular, lover boy, golden retriever type of guy. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

knuckles wrapped at his neighbor's door. it's out of the ordinary for roman to have the confidence to go to someone's door unannounced. he's always been the type to shoot a text when he's on his way and usually expected his guests to do the same. he was a private guy. roman couldn't help but worry, though, when his neighbor seemed to stop coming around. he hadn't even seen them at the mailboxes or in passing aside from once or twice and they didn't look good. while he used to hear laughter, talking, and more than one voice. he can only assume that there's been some sort of break up. he hates to think the worst, that the other person is dead, but he hasn't ruled it out. roman sighs and slides down the wall beside their door, sitting down. another three knocks. "i don't care what you look like or if there's cups all over the apartment -- can you just open the door?"

Closed Starter || @dxrlingdevils​ Charlotte didn’t freeze as the men shouted the slur at her from across the street. Just like she hadn’t frozen when she had seen the red graffiti written across the outside wall of the place she worked, outing her to practically the whole town. Unlike Lara, she was used to it, and so when the brunette stopped dead in the street shocked by his words, Charlotte just grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. “It’s fine, just ignore them.” 

Casey felt her eyes on his lip. He could only imagine the state he was in. "Nothing. It's not important -- I just need to leave, and quickly. Say you'll come with me. Please, Corey." The male replied as he begged her. "Yeah, he did, but I'm not taking it anymore. I'm getting far away from here" Casey muttered, wincing as he pressed a hand to his lip.

corey  had  only  been  standing  on  casey’s  doorstep  less  than  a  minute  before  the  door  swung  open.  her  pouty,  glossed  lips  parted,  eyes  zeroing  in  on  her  friend’s  bloodied  lip.  “whoa,  what  happened?”  the  response  fell  from  his  mouth  so  fast  that  her  brain  could  barely  keep  up.  must’ve  had  something  to  do  with  coming  off  a  ten  hour  shift  at  the  gas  station.  it  sounded  like  a  jumbled  mess.  all  she  heard  was  come  with  me.  “c’mere.”  corey  breathed,  pulling  him  onto  the  porch.  “your  dad  did  this?”

Lydia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders finally slumping as she perched on the edge of the bed. She glanced at Kaleb—really looked at him—taking in the exhaustion in his posture, the quiet understanding in his eyes.

She gave a small, humourless chuckle, running a hand through her already-messy hair. "Yeah," she admitted, voice quieter than usual. "Always."

She let the silence linger for a moment before flopping back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. "I swear, I could write a book on bad dates at this point. Chapter One: ‘How to Spot a Walking Red Flag in Five Minutes or Less.’"

She threw an arm over her eyes, shaking her head. "Tonight's disaster? Talked about himself for two hours straight. Didn't ask me a single question. Like, sir, I promise you, I do not care about your fantasy football league that much."

A short laugh escaped her, but it lacked any real amusement. "The worst part is, I knew. I always know. Five minutes in, and I was already plotting my escape. I should start carrying smoke bombs or something—make my exits more dramatic."

She peeked at him from under her arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Or, you know, I could just stop going on these stupid dates altogether. But where’s the fun in that?" Lydia stated, flipping over on to her stomach to look at him properly. "Your turn... Make me feel better about my tragic night."

Kaleb’s eyes widened a fraction as he saw Lydia’s familiar silhouette against the window. Of course, it was her. When a date went south—and they often seemed to do so for her—she always ended up at his window. He’d grown accustomed to the soft tap, tap, tap against the glass, a signal he knew well. He pulled back the curtains, his own exhaustion mirrored in her posture.

Without a word, he unlatched the window. Lydia clambered inside with the practiced ease of someone who'd done it countless times. It was a routine, a comforting ritual built on years of a friendship deeper than most people understood.

Kaleb knew she wasn’t really asking a question. It was more of a statement, and one he already knew the answer to. He just nodded as he replied, "Always. You?"

Rhiannon stood frozen in the middle of the road, her bare feet numb against the cold, slick asphalt. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking her to the bone, but it didn’t seem to faze her. She shivered violently, her body trembling with the chill, but her gaze remained fixed on something distant, something far beyond the reach of the storm. Her clothes clung to her skin, dripping with water, but it was the bare feet that seemed most out of place, her toes curling against the icy ground, leaving behind smudges of wet footprints where she stood.

When she finally spoke, her voice was weak, barely audible over the roaring storm, but there was a coldness to it that seemed to cut through the rain. "I’m fine," she muttered, though the words were barely a whisper, strained with the effort of speaking. She didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t move even as her body continued to shake uncontrollably from the cold.

Her teeth chattered as she spoke again, her voice sharper this time. "You shouldn’t have stopped," she said, her tone distant, as if the words weren’t meant for him at all. "It’s not safe for you here." She let out a soft, breathy sigh, her feet shuffling slightly on the wet ground, but her gaze never wavered from the horizon.

closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this

Rain was already spitting against the windshield, blurring the already indistinct lines of the two-lane highway. Lucas gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white. The weather report had been dire – flash flood warnings, potential hail the size of golf balls – and all Lucas wanted was to be home, safe and dry. He glanced in the rearview mirror, a habitual check even though he hadn’t seen another car for miles. Empty. Just the churning blackness behind them, reflecting the red glow of their own taillights.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through him as his eyes snapped back to the road. Someone. Standing right in the middle of the lane. Lucas slammed on the brakes, the tires screaming in protest against the slick asphalt. The car shuddered to a halt just inches from the figure.

Heart hammering against his ribs, Lucas shifted into park and killed the engine. The sudden silence was broken only by the increasing patter of rain against the roof and the frantic thumping of his own pulse. "Okay, okay, stay calm," he muttered. This was probably just some poor soul who's car had broken down, he reasoned.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment and got out of the car.

The figure was definitely human, though the darkness and the rain made it difficult to see clearly. They were facing away from the car, head tilted back, as if staring at something only they could see in the storm-wracked sky. Their clothes were damp and clinging to their frame, and a shiver wracked their body, but otherwise, they were motionless.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Lucas called out, cautiously approaching. The flashlight beam danced over the stranger's back. "I almost didn't see you. Are you hurt?"

whateverrps-blog​:

I really, REALLY want a plot where a son of a dangerous and feared mobster is put in charge of managing his father’s strip club and falls for one of the dancers. 

"I'm sure you would be the same if the situation was reversed." Zoe replied chewing her lip to keep the bashful smile from her face. "And who's to say I don't actually like this guy I met?" She asked matter-of-factly as she raised a brow.

"you're so dramatic," comment flows easily, laughter escaping his lips -- tongue darting out to dampen them. smirk growing upon noticing the redness growing on cheeks. "some guy at the club getting pictures like that? damn, can't imagine if what you'll send someone you actually like."

Plot 67:  Reservations & Revelations 

Give me an assassin and a girl he can’t kill and I’ll ship the hell out of it.