She Could Tell He Was Angry, But There Was Little She Could Do About It. “The Owner… Or Maybe The

"Well, you certainly made an impression," Isabelle stated, a wry smile playing on her lips as the male took a seat next to her. "Not many people would bother to step in like that." She couldn't help but admire his chivalry. "I appreciate it, though. It's not always easy being a lone woman in a place like this."

The brunette let her eyes rake over the male as she took a sip of her drink. "So, you want casual conversation, huh? Let's see. What's a six-foot-something guy like you doing in a place like this? You don't exactly fit the 'pick-up-artist' stereotype." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, gauging his reaction. "And, you're right, security should have done something sooner. But, it takes an actual fight for them to even bother to pay attention." Isabella replied, rolling her eyes "You seem like a guy who likes to take charge. Tell me, what kind of 'interesting' conversations do you usually have?"

open to: f connection: friend or stranger at a bar @indiestarter

It'd been a long fucking week. All Wyatt wanted was to have a quiet night with a glass of cheap cold beer, potentially eye fuck a girl or two before dragging his ass back home to ignore his roommate and pass out on the couch while watching old sitcom re-runs. Not too much to ask for in his opinion. Unfortunately, some drunken twathead began nagging at the pretty ladies sitting by the bar basically begging from them to go home with him. None were entertaining him but they all recoiled. Finally, Wyatt grew tired enough to get up - all six foot five inches of him - to push the man out of the bar ... doing security's job for them. When he re-entered, he shook his head at the woman who opened her mouth to thank him. "No need, sweetheart. Just doing what security should've done five drinks ago." Taking residence next to her, he smirked her way. "Pay me back with casual conversation. It's been a while since I've had an interesting one."

ofblcssxms​:

Mollie couldn’t help but laugh in response to his comment, arching a brow in suspicion as she peered toward him through narrowed eyes. “So it seems the lies just keep flowing.” She teased, laughing lightly once again. It was rare that she wasn’t laughing when she was with Asher, in all honesty. The two of them just got along so well that it proved difficult to be anything other than happy in his presence. Hence, why he was her first port of call should she ever have any down days. Mollie pouted as he continued on with the affectionate speech. “Stop!” She elongated the word in a childlike manner, covering her face with both of her hands adorably, in hope of hiding just how crimson her face had turned. Turning on her heel, Mollie then wandered further into the apartment before then stopping peering back toward Asher. She could tell his comment had been a buffer, a way for her to leave the subject of his arrival alone, and she had no problems in doing that. Honestly.. Mollie was just happy he was there. “I see how it is. You have no problems spooning me when we’re drunk but when we’re sober its a whole other story. I see.” The girl teased, pouting once again. 

Asher puffed his chest out as he acted shocked. “How very dare you! I can’t believe you continue to accuse me like this. I’m appalled, I really am.” He replied scoffing as he shook his head, trying to keep the smile off his face. A warm feeling settled within him, already feeling better now he was in Mollie’s presence. Things were always just so easy with them. The male laughed as she covered her face, complaining. Her embarrassment just made things even more fun. “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to tell you how much I care about you. C’mon, give me a hug, bestie.” Asher teased, laughing as he followed her further into the apartment before leaping forward, trapping her in his arms as he hugged her tightly. “I mean, I suppose I could let you share the bed with me, but only if I can be the little spoon.” He joked with a wink. 

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

Kai let out a dry chuckle, leaning against the counter with ink-stained fingers drumming lazily against the surface. "Amusing?" he echoed, voice laced with that slow, detached drawl. "Nah. Just ironic." His smirk didn’t falter, if anything, it deepened. She was every bit the type that would turn her nose up at guys like him in broad daylight but find themselves in places like this, looking for something real when the walls of their perfect little lives started closing in.

He exhaled through his nose, crossing inked arms over his chest. "So, princess, what brings you to the dark side? Or did you just get lost on the way to a champagne brunch?"

pia was very much a cliche, down to a tee. head cheerleader, dated a jock, prom queen. her dad was in finance and was one of the richest men in the state which came with some baggage she will admit. for a long time she really enjoyed the endless perks that life gave her, but until recently she had tried to break apart from her father's name to shine on her own. not that she did much on a day to day basis being an heiress to a mass fortune and owning everything a person could dream of. she modelled and did various other campaigns especially for social media. she was the polar opposite of the man standing infront of her and how she wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face already. "something amusing, bad boy?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow as she took a moment to drink in his appearance. @littledaydreamers

Jeyda’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile—more like amusement laced with warning. He took in the fire in Rowan’s eyes, the rigid set of her shoulders. Defiance suited her. A shame it wouldn’t serve her well.

"You wound me, Rowan," he murmured, voice smooth, unbothered. He plucked the champagne flute from her hand, deliberately brushing his fingers against hers, and took a slow sip before handing it back. "I’d at least hoped for a 'darling' before the insults began."

But his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. Beneath the cold exterior was something else—something bitter, something resentful. He glanced around the ballroom, at the watching eyes, at the silent puppeteers who had sealed their fates. His father’s presence lingered like a ghost, unseen but suffocating.

Then, just for show—because they were always performing—he took her hand and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her knuckles. His lips barely grazed her skin, but the gesture was enough to earn approving nods from the men who had dictated their futures.

When he looked at her again, his steel-grey eyes were unreadable. "Smile, Rowan," he said, his voice quiet, almost taunting. "The audience is watching."

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this

The champagne flute felt fragile in Rowan's grip, threatening to shatter under the pressure of her clenched hand. The forced smiles, the platitudes about unity, the goddamn wedding cake – it was all a grotesque charade. She caught her father's eye across the crowded ballroom. Sal Price, a man who thrived on fear and intimidation, gave her a curt nod, a silent reminder of what was at stake. Her life, her freedom, her family's future, and more importantly the life of her brothers. Of course she'd never tell Brax the real reason why she'd agreed to follow along with their father's orders, the whole point of this was to avoid the blood shed.

She took a large gulp of champagne, the bubbles doing little to soothe the burning resentment in her throat. Tonight, she was a pawn. A sacrifice on the altar of peace. Peace bought with her misery. A shadow fell across her.

She lifted her head and met the cold, steel-gray eyes of Jeyda Arslan, her soon-to-be husband, her captor. "Arslan," she spat, the word dripping with venom. "Or should I call you husband? The thought makes me want to vomit."

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.

WHO   :   closed | @amoonlitmemory​ WHERE   :   the tavern WHEN   :    late afternoon

Quiet in his seat, Jacob continued to watch the scene between the two in front of him unfold as he nursed his drink. He’d had a busy day and wanted nothing more than to just enjoy a tankard of ale and his own company but it would seem that the two arguing in front of him had another idea in mind. Looking down at what was left in his tankard, he chucked his neck back chugging what was left, leaving a pleasant burning of alcohol in his throat. Taking a stand as he noticed them getting more aggressive with each other, he let out a sigh and began to walk over. “Enough.” He stated, his voice calm yet with a sharpness to it. Jacob looked at them both straight in the eye as he put an arm between them. “If you’re going to behave like children, then I will be your daddy. Now, you go that way and you come sit with me.” The male instructed with a warning look that told them it would be safer not to argue with him.

Ben Barnes in Gold Digger (episode 4)

Brooke placed her book down as she heard the knock on the door. It was late, even for her. Working as an escort meant she had many callers at all kinds of ungodly hours, but 4 a.m. was unusual, which meant it could only be one person: Max.

Walking to the door, Brooke looked through the peephole to confirm her suspicions. She caught a glimpse of his steel-blue eyes fixed upon the door as if he could see through it. Max never telephoned or sent messages before arriving. They had an unspoken agreement that he could come whenever his need to unwind consumed him. Tonight, the need was evidently strong. Pulling the door open, she noticed the scratch on his cheek and blood on his tie. "Christ, what happened to you?" She asked as she stepped aside to let him in.

Open Starter

Max Tudor - 31, bisexual, enforcer

Open to mutuals and non-mutuals

Connection Ideas - Ex; friend/FWB; affair; escort; hookup; fellow criminal; rival gang member; cop/lawyer

++

The distinctive sound of Max’s Chelsea boots against the hardwood floor signalled his presence before knocking on the apartment door. The late hour didn’t matter to him. As a veteran criminal, he split his time between orchestrating robberies and enforcing the will of his bosses. Therefore, he rarely kept office hours. It wasn’t the first time he’d visited them at such an ungodly time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 

After three sharp knocks, Max waited. If they looked through the peephole, they’d see him standing firmly in his three-piece suit and overcoat, eyes fixated on the door. Max never texted or called before coming over. They had an understanding he could arrive whenever he needed to unwind. Tonight, such a principle stood stronger than ever, considering the bruising on his knuckles, the scratch on his cheek and the specks of blood on his tie. 

He watches her closely, a flicker of regret crossing his face as he notices the way she pulls at her sweater, her demeanour shifting. He uncrosses his arms slowly, stepping closer, his voice softer than before. "Minnie..." He pauses, letting the words settle before continuing. "I didn’t mean it like that." His expression softens, and there's a subtle vulnerability in his eyes now. "I just... I’m trying to be real with you, even if it comes off wrong. Not everyone gets what they deserve, but that doesn't mean I think you're foolish for wanting it." His voice quiets, almost regretful. "I just don’t necessarily expect it for myself, yknow?"

watching the others reaction as he crosses his arms she frowns at it. how standoff ish he was being toward her made her feel small and begin to pull at the sleeves of her sweater. "you should care.." she said her voice soft. when he suggested that he may not be looking for forever she nods her head a bit understandingly. "that.. that's true.. if that's the case no harm ya?" she paused for a moment when he mentioned how not everyone gets the kind of love she was talking about and her gaze drops feeling like it was a direct hit at her heart. "you're right.. foolish of me to think so.." she said softly biting on her bottom lip.