Plot 68: Stranger Danger

Rory’s grin widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. He shifted his weight slightly, hands slipping into his pockets. “Ah, c’mon now,” he teased, tilting his head. “I don’t think you’re making a fool of yourself at all. Bit flustered, maybe. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He let her words hang in the air for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. “I'm not, am I?" He feigned shock, his mouth hanging open before a laugh bubbled from his lips. "And here I was thinkin’ I was just a lad trying to grab a coffee.” His smile turned slightly crooked, playful. “Didn’t realize I’d be causing an existential crisis in the middle of a car park.”

Ember felt her cheeks burn even hotter under Rory's smile. Her name, coming from him. She swallowed hard, hoping her voice wouldn’t crack. "Class?" she managed to squeak, then instantly regretted it. Great start, Ember. Real smooth.

She felt a lurch in her stomach as he chuckled, a sound that probably soundtracked the dreams of half his fanbase. His teasing question made her want to disappear, to be swallowed whole by the sidewalk. He was right, of course. Part of her did want to be anywhere but here, not because she didn’t want to meet him, but because she was so unbelievably unprepared to actually do it.

“No, seriously,” she blurted, trying for some kind of composure. “Huge fan. Just… surprised. And… probably making a fool of myself.” Ember finally met his gaze, her eyes wide and pleading, hoping he wouldn't judge her too harshly after this spectacularly awkward introduction. "It's just, you know... you're Rory." She gestured vaguely with her hands, words failing her. "It's a lot to process in a parking lot on a Tuesday."

Is Larry Stylinson still a thing? If so, I have some prompts if anyone wants to rp >.<

I'm still here! I've just been reorganising my muses and bios. I'll put some starters up soon :)

Kai let out a low whistle, slow and mocking, as he watched her order her drink. Whiskey. Cute. Like she was trying to prove a point.

"Relax, Pia," he drawled, stretching out the name he heard her friend use as if it amused him. "I never said you had to bat your lashes at me. Trust me, sweetheart, my ego doesn't hinge on validation from girls who hate that they’re intrigued." He smirked, tapping his fingers idly against the counter.

He shifted slightly, watching her with that lazy, knowing look, like he’d already figured her out. "And yeah, I make assumptions. It’s called reading people. You walked in here already hating me, princess, so let’s not pretend this is a one-way street. I think you'll find you were the one who began with the stereotypes" He cocked his head, eyes flicking to her drink. "Whiskey, huh? Daddy’s favorite. Real original."

He leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping into something low and dry. "But hey, don't worry. I'm sure ordering the strongest thing on the menu totally proves you can ‘handle’ me." He smirked, taking a slow sip of his own drink. "Really shattering stereotypes tonight, huh?"

"i'm sorry did you want me to come in here all googly eyed for you? because that's clearly something your used to. just because girls tend to favour the bad boy i have abandonment issues card doesn't mean i'm gunna be fluttering my lashes at you. not to mention i've been here.. five minutes and you have already made countless assumptions about me when i have barely breathed a word about you, so who really is uptight here? got nothing better to do than to insult girls for kicks? 50% split on whether they can handle your sarcasm or they'll crumble but news flash.. but i am bothered by you. other than your ultimately charming conversational skills." she shifted to gaze away from him, looking around as the bartender stopped infront of her and she ordered a whisky. something she loved the taste of because her dad drank it so much it was a wholesome thing really for her. and probably the less likely option for the male next to her to make a snarky comment.

Mei froze mid-rant, her fingers tightening just a little around the bandage she was wrapping around his leg. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits. "Oh-ho, crispy, is it?" she echoed, voice deceptively light. "Just a little crispy? Owen, you look like a marshmallow that someone dropped into a campfire and then tried to convince everyone was still edible!" Ok, so maybe she was exaggerating a little, but she was just trying to get her point across.

She huffed, pressing the bandage down with just enough extra force to make him wince. "And elbow grease and a scrubbing brush?! Oh wow, thank you, Mr. Domestic, for your deep and insightful cleaning wisdom! I’ll be sure to remember that while I’m on my hands and knees scraping your poor life choices out of the floorboards!"

Her frustration hitched when he grinned at her—grinned!—like this was all some big joke. Like she wasn’t currently battling the very real urge to smack him upside the head with the nearest throw pillow. "Owen, I swear to everything good and sparkly--If you make one more joke—" And then he called himself a big, glazed doughnut.

For a moment, silence. Then, a deep, slow inhale through her nose. "Oh, you did not just—" The glare she gave him was like none other she'd ever given.

But just as quickly as it flared, her anger deflated. She sighed, shoulders slumping, as she secured the last of the bandages with a little more gentleness. "You know I hate this, right?" Her voice had lost its sharp edges, replaced by something quieter—something raw. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you act like your pain is just… a funny little inconvenience. I hate that you think I only care because of the mess or because I have to clean you up." She tied off the bandage with a little flourish and then sat back on her heels, arms crossing. "I care, you big, dumb, freshly burnt doughnut because you matter. Because you being okay matters."

She sniffed, then nudged his uninjured leg with her foot. "And because I like stealing your medical supplies, but that’s beside the point." A pause. Then, grudgingly, "... You are kind of a glazed doughnut, though."

Owen sighed, though the attempt was somewhat stifled by a sharp intake of breath as Mei pressed a bit too firmly on the singed flesh of his thigh. "Explosion battlefield? Now that's just colourful," he mumbled, trying to inject a lightness into his tone that he wasn't entirely feeling. He knew Mei worried, and he appreciated it, even if her worrying took the form of theatrical frustration and a concerning knowledge of bloodstain removal techniques.

He watched her, amused despite the discomfort, as she ranted about cotton and floorboards. "Relax, Mei. It's nothing a little elbow grease and a good scrubbing brush can't fix." He even managed a small, lopsided grin. He knew she hated that he dismissed things so easily, especially when those "things" involved explosions and blood, but it was his default setting. Panic rarely solved problems.

When she called him a doughnut, he chuckled. "A big, glazed doughnut," he corrected, then immediately regretted it as her glare intensified. He understood her frustration, truly. He knew seeing him hurt bothered her more than she let on.

"I know, Mei," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. "But I'm alright. Just a little… crispy. Besides," he added, attempting to lighten the mood again, "who else would you steal medical supplies from if I wasn't constantly providing a reason to?"

Kai watched her turn to leave, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. Oh, hell no. She wasn’t getting off that easy—not after that. Not after the way she kissed him like she meant it and then had the audacity to act like it never happened. Like she could just brush it off, walk away, and pretend she wasn’t still feeling it just as much as he was.

Before she could slip too far, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist—not hard, just firm enough to stop her. To make her look at him.

"Nah," he muttered, voice lower now, rougher. "You don’t get to do that, princess."

His grip was steady but unthreatening as he pulled her back, just enough to spin her toward him again, just enough so that their bodies were close—too close. His free hand found her waist, pressing her back against him.

"You don’t get to kiss me like that," he murmured, his gaze locked onto hers, intense, unwavering. "And then act like it was nothing." He let the words settle, his thumb brushing absently against the inside of her wrist. Steady pulse. But faster than before.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips, but there was something else in his expression now—something less teasing, more real. He leaned in just a fraction, just enough for his breath to ghost over her lips, deliberately testing the waters. "You can say whatever you want," he said lowly, his voice smooth, taunting. "But we both know you’re not walking away because you want to. You’re walking away because you have to."

His grip loosened then, giving her the choice. Letting her decide if she wanted to stay. If she was going to run, or if she was going to stop pretending.

there was no expiration date or thought of when this might end, though the urgency of both of their actions was leading them down a very slippery slope in terms of restraint. there was only so much you could push at the actions of desire before there's a want and a need to escalate it further. of course pia was very aware that the longer they did this that she felt that fire the moment their lips pressed together. it was like all her irritation for him channeled into that one moment where she could just get tangled up in him and their bodies would do the only talking. the problem being that she knew the moment they stopped that he would ruin it, one way or another. pop her bubble in a matter of seconds just by opening his mouth.

they were both panting in their breaths in the silence as they pulled away from one another but not far enough that she could still feel his body pressed against hers and the tension it yeilded. the moment she saw that smirk of his begin to form she immediately regretted her decision. how could she be so stupid as to spur on his behaviour? she just wanted him to stop talking in all reality.

her orbs rolled in irritation, the pet name back in full force, didn't take him long did it? "i already am thanks." she portrayed a very sarcastic grin, aware of what she may have caused. "good thing that this is never ever happening again, huh?" she pointed out in a very definitive tone. who was she trying to convince really? because even she didn't believe herself. "if you'll excuse me i am going back inside to join the guys in their game. i'll let you finish your cigarette." she shifted so their bodies were finally apart and let out a sigh of irritation.

amoonlitmemory​:

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers​

“I’m sorry–” Niamh glanced down at the parchement unsure of what she was supposed to be looking at. “Are you sure this is meant for me? I– I don’t know what this is.” Having been self taught, she would never admit that when it came to reading her knowledge was only that of which she appeared familiar with. Yes, she could read words but that didn’t always mean she had a clear understanding of what things meant.

Tristan nodded affirmatively, a subtle gesture accompanied by a satisfying "Yep," the soft sound of the "p" popping. "Well," he continued, his voice filled with a hint of curiosity, "that's what it seems to be—a letter. If you'd like, I could read it aloud for you. The lighting in this room leaves much to be desired, but fortunately, I possess exceptional vision." With a compassionate gaze, he observed the writing before him, sensing the air of perplexity surrounding it. While illiteracy wasn't uncommon among the inhabitants of Nassau, Tristan understood the reluctance of many to acknowledge this fact openly.

Rhiannon didn’t respond right away. She let his words settle, watching the way he curled in on himself, the way his frustration laced through every syllable. She didn’t flinch at the bitterness in his tone—just observed, quiet and steady.

After a moment, she looked away, out toward the darkened yard. “I know what you mean,” she murmured. “When there’s too much noise, too many thoughts, and no way to turn them down.” Her fingers idly traced a knot in the wood beneath her. “It’s like being stuck inside a room where all the walls are mirrors, and every reflection is another thing you have to think about.”

She let the thought drift between them, not pushing for a response.

Instead, she sat back a little more, looking up at the stars in the sky. They always had a way of calming her, a way of reminding her how small she and her problems were in the grand scheme of things. “People don’t always notice when someone’s overwhelmed. They just keep talking, keep expecting.” Her gaze flickered toward the window, toward the muffled thrum of the party inside. “It’s easier to let them think you’re distant than explain.”

Her eyes met his again, searching but not prying. “Does anything help?” It wasn’t an empty question, not a meaningless attempt at small talk. Just quiet curiosity, like she was offering him space to answer—or not—without expectation.

Kit's gaze shifted back to his front and he returned to taking eaven breaths. He knew this was futile to continue doing this and silently cursed himself for being out from home for so long. He was thinking of classwork and what he needed to assign for his next class, about the bpm of the current song playing at the party, also trying to calculate a math equation he'd seen in his head, all the while people at the party continued to try and speak to him. It was too much and he soon found himself needing and wanting to go home.

His brain was still buzzing and he could feel himself slipping mentally. He made a mental note to know that he'd be pretty much be operating on autopilot for the remainder of the week. He couldn't understand her feeling of not being around strangers but it all being too much was something all too familiar for him. He was nodding along to what she said absently before taking a small sigh.

At her question his eyes looked back to her as he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on top of them. "It spins everywhere." His reply coming out bitter and irritated. "I can't control it and I just," he shrugged, "I needed a moment." After a moment he continued. "Most people assume i'm just cold but if my brain is already in overdrive and someone speaks to me on top of it..it just becomes too much to handle."

Kai’s smirk faltered the second he saw the shift in her expression. He hadn’t expected that. He’d meant to rile her up, to keep their game going, not—whatever this was. Not her shutting down, withdrawing, like he’d just snuffed out the fire between them with a careless flick of his wrist.

His jaw tensed, watching her clutch her jacket, the way her lips pressed together like she was trying to hold back more than just words.

“Pia—” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but she was already looking away, already dismissing him, already convincing herself that this was over. And that—God, that didn’t sit right with him.

Before she could take a step, he reached for her wrist again, this time gentler, more deliberate. “That’s not what I meant.” A sigh left him, low and sharp, like he hated having to say this out loud. “You think I don’t—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to keep her there if she really wanted to go, but enough to make her listen.

“I don’t want her, you've got to know that” he admitted, quieter now, but no less intense. “We've been playing these games all night. I don’t get jealous. I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before locking his gaze back onto hers, something raw flickering beneath the frustration. “But then you make an appearance here in this shitty little club where you clearly stand out, and suddenly, I’m throwing punches in bars and watching every move you make like a fucking idiot.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his grip on her wrist loosened, fingers dragging down her arm before dropping away completely. His expression hardened again, but not before she caught the ghost of something else—something vulnerable, something unguarded.

“So yeah. Go back inside if that's what you want. Go find someone else to dance with.” He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes scanning her face like he memorised it. “But don’t stand here and act like it's not you that I want to take home with me tonight. That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

of course he was going to twist it to his advantage. couldn't just outwardly admit that he was envious about the fact that she was close to another male, and that she let him kiss her as well. the fact was pia was a pretty confident person, she knew she was fortunate to be graced with good looks and she was content in herself and her own skin, however kai definitely made that waver.

the fact was, his comment didn't make her want to go out there and kiss someone else just to see if he was bluffing, oh no, it made her feel withdrawn instead. he'd officially put a stop to their little game in one fleeting sentence and he didn't even realise it. now she felt dejected and not to mention that she was even more furious with him than she was earlier, which she didn't think was possible.

"oh okay.. fine, have it your way.. you hit him because he was an asshole, right.. cos he was dancing with me, because you didn't seem to know him so that's not a very credible answer. but i am done, kai.. made it clear that i'm not exactly desireable anymore, so i'll save myself embarassment and quit while i'm ahead, hmm?"

she curved her jacket over her arm, her nostrils flaring with clear irritation as she looked away from him for a moment, lips pursed.

"have fun with your peppy little date over there."

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