Rhiannon Didn’t Answer Right Away. She Sat With Her Legs Tucked Close, Toes Curling Slightly Against

Rory let out a soft laugh. He shook his head, still grinning as he glanced down at the empty space where his coffee should have been.

“Ah, well,” he said, looking back at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I have somewhat of a life outside of performing. Oat milk lattes are a big part of that life. Well, it's vanilla latte, if we're being pedantic but that's neither here nor there.” He joked with another laugh. He started to say something else when a group of fans approached, asking for autographs and photos. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—pausing mid-conversation felt a bit awkward—but he obliged with practised ease, signing and smiling before turning back to Ember with an apologetic smile. As the fans walked away, their hushed whispers lingered in the air, curiosity evident in their voices as they wondered about the redhead by his side.

Rory let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he glanced toward the café. "Well, technically, yeah," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I'm in no rush. I reckon the latte can wait. I like being able to have these moments with my fans." He replied honestly. "Just make sure you get a photo or something before I go. I'd feel terrible if I forgot and left you with nothing to remember from our chat... that's if you even want to remember this -- I probably shouldn't assume. I'm not that arrogant, I promise." He ran a hand through his hair, laughing.

Ember's cheeks burned brighter under Rory's playful gaze. He thought she was flustered, not making a fool of herself? Well, that was… marginally better. Relief washed over her, quickly followed by the realization that she still had to say something.

"No, no crisis!" she blurted out, a little too fast. Ember immediately cringed internally. Smooth, Ember, real smooth. She forced a small, shaky laugh. "An existential crisis might be a bit dramatic," Ember managed, her voice a touch breathy. "Just... a bit surprised. You're... you're usually on stage, not, you know, buying oat milk lattes." She gestured vaguely with one hand, hoping she didn't look like a complete idiot. The fact that Rory was smiling at her, a real, genuine smile, made her want to melt into the tarmac. She just hoped she wasn't making him regret ever leaving his house for caffeine. "Oh my goodness, am I stopping you from getting your coffee?"

amoonlitmemory​:

“That won’t be for a while yet, Mr Dawson. You’re not going anywhere until I’m happy with your progress and I know you’re injuries are fully healed.” Her heart couldn’t help but break a little seeing his face. Of course she knew that she had no real power to stop him being called once more, it was inevitable with war. Yet she couldn’t have stopped the attachment that she had seemed to have formed during her care of him and the time she had spent by his bedside. “Your sister asked me to drop by. She’s worried about you.”

“Alex,” the male interjected with a gentle correction. “Please, call me Alex. Mr Dawson is my father. Besides, I believe we’ve known each other long enough to drop the formalities now.” He fell into a thoughtful silence, mulling over her words. Although he didn’t perceive his injuries as overly burdensome, he acknowledged his lack of medical expertise. “My shoulder gives me some trouble but overall, I feel like I’ve healed quite well. It’s more my head, y’know?” Alex’s voice grew softer, as if opening up a part of himself he rarely shared. Melissa had a way of putting him at ease, enabling him to speak about thoughts he never thought he would verbalize. “She worries too much.” It was undeniably true, yet he couldn't deny his own contribution to her concerns—ignoring her calls and isolating himself at home for over a week.

Closed Starter || @amoonlitmemory​​

“So, the camp is supposed to open tomorrow, but at the moment we only have 4 camp counsellors, one cook and one nurse. No one knows who is in charge - and did I mention the kids are coming tomorrow?” Asher ranted, feeling more than a little stressed. He wondered how he wounded up in this position as a Summer Camp Counsellor, but then he remembered the other had pressured him into the position. “Remind me why I let you convince me to do this?”

ofblcssxms​:

Ivan knew before the blonde even walked in the room that he would be greeted by a snarky comment. The woman was too predictable. Though, nevertheless, a smirk crossed his face. “I am good at this. They don’t usually fight back.” He rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter with a light groan. Thankfully it had just been his face in the cross fire. Ivan knew the damage a pair of knuckle dusters could do in the wrong hands, or even the right ones for that matter. Had they have gone for the ribs, he may have a fractured bone or two, putting the rest of his contracts in jeopardy. “Someone must have tipped him off, he knew I was coming.” Ivan mused, hissing as she began to work on the stitches. Eyes rolled in response to her quip, a hand then moving to lie flat over his chest. “You wound me, dear..” The pet name was one that he used often for the woman, perhaps even more so than her actual name.

Elsie tried to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips. “I’m not sure I believe you. I mean, I thought the big bad Ivan could handle anything. And now I find out you can only deal with them if they come willingly.” She whistled, shaking her head. Honestly, she still found him impressive. She knew personally the type of people they dealt with and for the male to come away with just a cut and a few grazes was admirable. “ублюдки.” The blonde muttered as she continued to work away at his stitches. A grin broke across her face as he pretended to be hurt by her words. “Don’t act like you have a heart.” She quipped back, pausing briefly as she looked up, winking at him. “и сделано”

Jeyda’s eyes flickered to hers for a moment, almost imperceptible—enough to catch the question but not answer it. His lips tightened, a small shift in his posture, but his gaze quickly drifted to the ground, focusing on the faint crack in the pavement as if it held the answers. He didn’t want to talk about the city. The city didn’t matter. The past didn’t matter. Not right now.

“Yep, new to the building not to the city” he muttered, his voice still rough. He shifted again, ready to end this little exchange, but her smile—her lightness—hung in the air like a tug on his chest. She was persistent. It was almost unsettling considering the harshness he had become used to in prison.

“Though it's been a while since I've been out in the city,” he added, this time quieter. He didn’t know how much more he could give her.

Aylin beamed, her usual sunny disposition not even slightly dimmed by Jeyda’s reticent demeanor. The way his fingers had barely grazed hers when he took the mail did make her pause for a fraction of a second, though. She wondered if he was alright.

"You're welcome!" Aylin chirped, her voice light and airy like the dandelion seeds she sometimes saw floating through the courtyard. She noticed he didn't look at the envelopes, and a small frown tugged at her brow. Legal firm mail wasn't usually cause for celebration, was it?

When his rough, quiet 'thanks' came, Aylin just nodded. She didn't expect him to say more. Jeyda never did. She held his gaze for a moment longer, a gentle, unspoken question in her bright eyes. Maybe he just needed a friendly face, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Seeing him tuck the stack under his arm, Aylin gave a small tilt of her head. "Have you settled in? I know you're new to the building but what about the city?" she questioned curiously.

muse a is fresh out of prison, solitary confinement to be exact, and hasn’t truly seen the light of day for at least a couple of years. they’re adjusting to the real world; they barely speak anymore, and they haven’t experienced gentle human contact in what seems like forever. insert muse b, their new neighbor.

Fletcher's eyes lingered on the female as he tried to work her out. "I'm just saying blackmailing criminals sounds like a dangerous pastime. I would hate for something to happen to you."

Completely  motionless,  Dove  kept  her  blue  eyes  on  Fletcher.  If  there  was  something  she  learned  from  her  high  school  best  friend,  then  that  you  should  never  back  down  ever.  ❝Oh  that's  funny,  why  not?❞

“I’m a doofus”

Ok but I actually need an apocalyptic/end of the world/zombie apocalypse type rp where muse a has been living on their own for so long and has a good setup going and is comfortable, but one day finds muse b hurt and nurses them back to health and then they start trusting each other and surviving together and then together they finally go looking for other survivors or help and it’s all just bloody and gory and life-or-death but they are hella cute ok can I have that? Please??

amoonlitmemory​:

Status: Closed @littledaydreamers​

Location:  Tavern

“I’d think twice about releasing me. That is if you had any intention of keeping your hand” Kennedy hissed her threat to the stranger as she attempted to loosen his grip on her whilst trying not to draw attention to them. Her hand drifted to her hip where her small blade was usually hidden, only to find it missing and her heart to lurch. She had only wanted to have a quiet drink, hoping to over hear any information on the new arrivals, though this time it appeared that she had made the mistake of listening in on the wrong people and they hadn’t been as drunk and unobservant as she had originally thought.

Jacob stood at a nearby table, observing the tense situation unfolding before him. His eyes darted between Kennedy and the stranger, analysing their body language and trying to assess the best course of action. He had seen Kennedy at the tavern before, a tough and independent woman who seemed to be able to handle herself in most situations. However, it was clear that she was in a vulnerable position now. His instinct to help kicked in, and he quickly made his way over to Kennedy, trying to keep a calm demeanour. He approached from the side, not wanting to startle either of them further. As he got closer, he spoke in a low voice, "Hey, is everything alright here?" The stranger, taken aback by Jacob's unexpected intervention, loosened his grip slightly. Jacob stood tall, positioning himself between Kennedy and the stranger, projecting an air of confidence. He maintained eye contact with the stranger, subtly conveying that he wouldn't tolerate any further aggression. "I suggest you walk away now," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. The stranger hesitated, his gaze shifting between Jacob and Kennedy. Sensing the mounting tension, he finally decided to retreat, his pride wounded but realizing the situation was no longer in his favour. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Jacob turned his attention to Kennedy, offering her a reassuring smile. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, concern evident in his voice.