Rory - Blog Posts

💛Rory 💛

I absolutely love this dorky vampire ❤️

Rory!

She, she screams in silence

A sullen riot penetrating through her mind

Waiting for a sign

To smash the silence with the brick of self-control

- Green Day, "She"

Bread winner II

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?"

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."

Rory grinned, the kind of easy, lopsided smile that made his fans' knees feel unsteady. "Ember," he repeated like he was trying it out, rolling it over his tongue. "That’s a class name."

She still looked like she might either faint or bolt, and he found himself chuckling, not unkindly—just amused, endeared.

"Big fan, yeah?" he said teasingly, tilting his head slightly. "You sure? ‘Cause right now, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here."

He’d actually noticed her. Now he was looking at her. Ember felt the blood rush to her cheeks, warmth blossoming in her chest. Don't be ridiculous, Ember. He probably just thinks you're a weirdo staring at him.

She tried to speak, to conjure up the witty, intelligent greeting she’d practiced a thousand times in the mirror. Instead, a pathetic squeak escaped her lips. Ember cringed inwardly. Smooth, Ember. Real smooth.

Ember finally found her voice, though it was still shaky. "I...I just...I'm Ember. Big fan." The admission felt ridiculously inadequate, a laughable understatement of the devotion that consumed so much of her free time. She wanted to say more, anything to actually start a conversation but she was terrified of saying something even more stupid.

He noticed her—just for a second, and then he couldn't look away. Among the shifting crowd, the flashing cameras, the hum of London life, there she was. A girl clutching a newspaper like it was a lifeline, her eyes wide with something between excitement and panic. Rory had seen that look before, but there was something different about this moment. Maybe it was the way her hands trembled slightly, or the way she seemed to be fighting an internal battle just to say something.

"Alright there?" he said, his voice warm, easy, like he wasn’t the reason her world had just tilted on its axis.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she might speak. Instead, she let out a tiny, strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup. He couldn’t help but chuckle, not unkindly, just amused, endeared. Something about her was different from the usual faces in the crowd.

"Don't worry, love," he said, still smiling. "I'm not gonna bite."

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this:

The air crackled with an almost unbearable electricity. Ember clutched her phone so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Outside the trendy London cafe, a small crowd had gathered, their whispers a constant hum against the backdrop of city noise. He was in there. Rory Murphy. The one whose voice had soundtracked countless late-night study sessions, whose lyrics had gotten her through heartbreak, whose goofy smile plastered across magazine covers had always managed to brighten her day.

She’d only come for a quick coffee before heading to her internship. Now, armed with a shaky determination fueled by years of fandom, she was lingering, pretending to read a discarded newspaper, hoping, praying, that he’d emerge.

Suddenly, the door swung open. A ripple went through the crowd, cameras were raised, and there he was. Rory. Even more dazzling in real life, if that was even possible. He grinned, a genuine, sunny expression that melted away the London chill. He signed a couple of autographs, politely answered a few shouted questions, and then started to move in her direction.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Her palms were slick. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.

Uh-oh... I think I'm screwed...!

Same.

I’ve got a five year plan. Five years… cool.