Ok But A Plot Where One Is A Criminal That’s On The Run From The Police, And They Stumble Across This

I'd love to find some new people to write and plot with. Please give this post a like if I can come drop you a message to plot <3

"What? James, I haven't been with anyone." Violet argued back surprised by his reaction. "Come on, you know I was at work."

open to: f (mutuals only)

muse: James Junior Rennie, 21-28, cis male, straight

cw for: toxic relationship, extremely obsessive and possessive behavior

"You taste like cigarettes." He pulled away, breaking the kiss, his face contorted in disgust. "Who have you been with?" James demanded, glaring.

amoonlitmemory​:

“Excuse me?” Naimh whirled around to face him, her attention diverted from the original annoyance she had been arguing with as her eyes flashed in anger at the new stranger. “If I wanted your input I would have asked for it, this is no business of yours so stay out of it. Unless of course you would rather my knife be held to your gut instead of his?” A single brow arched in challenge as her gaze flicked down to her wrist where she was gripping her blade. Once again her temper and short fuse had left her in a predicament that could probably have been avoided.

Jacob raised his brow as the young woman began to complain. He suddenly regretted inserting himself into the situation. The woman obviously didn’t want help despite needing it unless she wanted the conversation to end violently. It almost certainly would, given the pirate she was arguing with was known for being hot-headed and bloody thirsty. “Y'know, most would say thank you. Do you have any idea who you were getting into a confrontation with? You may be able to look after yourself, Miss, but trust me, he is not a man you want to be fighting with.” He warned her, shaking his head as he gestured to the barkeep for another two drinks. “Now, you can sit down and have a quiet drink with me, or you can piss off – I honestly couldn’t care much either way."

Ruby stared at the screen, her heart doing this annoying little stutter at his words. What do you want?

It was a simple enough question, but the way King asked it—so direct, so confident, like he was already anticipating her answer—made something tighten in her stomach.

She exhaled, rolling onto her side, the glow of her lamp casting long shadows on her wall. Part of her wanted to brush him off, to act like this wasn’t getting to her. But another part? Another part liked the way he was talking, the way he seemed genuinely offended on her behalf.

Text to King: Right? Tell me about it. You’d think at the very least, I’d get a damn reaction.

She hesitated, then added:

Text: Not that I care. Obviously.

Which was a lie, but she wasn’t about to let King know that her ego was so easily damaged.

Her eyes flicked back to his last message, and she couldn’t help but picture him—lying there...

Text: Y'know, I don't think I've ever seen your body... A shirtless picture wouldn't hurt for starters

text: what do you want?

he asked without a second thought because king was a pretty confident guy atleast in himself, and he trusted that she wasn't going to share it with anyone. not that he would mind if she happened to because like he'd said he prided himself on thr way he looked.

text: you sent him THAT and he left you on read?? amazes me. does matter what i was doing i would atleast send you a damn emoji.

text: not very curteous of him.. jackass.

he shifted a fraction for a moment, preparing himself to have to remove some more clothing again or have to move into a different position with better lighting depending on how this conversation went.

text: like i said, what do you want in return?

Brooke rolled her eyes. "I was booked by the guy who runs this place. Must be bored with his strippers. I don't know, I don't deal with that shit, I just go where I'm told." She stated simply shrugging out of his grip. "It's no big deal, I've dealt with dangerous people before, relax. They only want me for one thing. They've paid for the night, so I better get back in there."

OPEN TO ×  w / m / nb  21+

PLOT × Rocco has a "meeting" at a str.p club owned by his boss that is used by gangs and the mafia to do business. He catches your muse there (they can be a visitor, new employee, whatever) and is not happy. (please assume connection it can be anything from romantic to platonic!)

MUSE × rocco sterling [36] mafia member

Rocco was enraged. Anger caused his forehead to wrinkle and his heart pounded hard against his toned chest. His hand grabbed the other person’s upper arm as he dragged them outside. ❝What the hell are you doing here? I told you a thousand times not to come to a place like that!❞

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?"

Spencer gave a shrug not wanting to make a big deal out of the situation, he hated conflict and he'd had enough of it for one night. "What was I meant to do, say no?" He retorted not quite meeting Miguel's eyes, he could already tell he was pissed and he hadn't even told him the full story.

muse: miguel [ 30s, professional boxer ] open to: m only pls! plot: taken from here! your muse was recently dumped and kicked out of his boyfriend's apartment, forcing him to rely upon miguel for help. miguel and your muse being past exes is also an option!

"The fuck you mean he just kicked you out? And you let him?"

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.

amoonlitmemory​:

Kennedy couldn’t help the feeling of relief at hearing her friends voice, not that she would let it show of course. It would be a mistake to show any type of fear or emotion amongst current company. She couldn’t even let it show that she had no weapon, instead having to bluff her way out of trouble. “I believe my friend asked you a question. I would be wise in heeding her unless of course you’d like the rumor of having been bested by two women?” Feeling the grip on her wrist loosen and the fact that she was now able to take a step back from his grubby paws. Not taking her eyes off him as she made her retreat and moved closer to Theo.

The man sneered at the two women, his eyes flitting between Kennedy and Theodosia. He seemed to be evaluating their worth; to him, they were nothing but two skinny girls, easy prey. But as he prepared to make a move, Theodosia pushed the blade deeper into his back, causing him to wince in pain. "I'm not going to ask you again," Theodosia spoke firmly, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Leave us be, or face the consequences."

The man hesitated for a moment before turning around to face the women. "You'll regret this," he spat before walking away with a limp.

As the man disappeared into the crowded streets of Nassau, Theodosia turned to Kennedy with a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright?"

What’s Your Number inspired AU:

Muse A is apartment neighbors with Muse B who is known for sleeping around with girls around the city. Muse B doesn’t like dealing with the aftermath of his one-night stands so he lets himself into Muse A's apartment to hide out. Muse B asks Muse A to help him get rid of his conquests and Muse A comes up with different excuses to get the girls out of Muse B's apartment. Muse A continues to let Muse B hide out in her apartment as she goes through struggles in her own life with her absentee boyfriend. Muse A and Muse B become close friends over time, barging into each other’s apartments, staying up late talking and eating pizza and discussing the world. Meanwhile, Muse B takes it upon himself to get Muse A to see the light of her dead-end relationship. Muse A gets frustrated with Muse B and demands to know why Muse B is sticking his nose in her business. Is it simply because he doesn’t want his friend to end up in a loveless marriage or is it because he recently found out he wants her to himself?