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CLOSED starter || ft. @littledaydreamers​

Five years later, here he was finally outside those dull grey concrete walls he’d grown to call home. Luckily, he’d managed to get out on good behaviour. Ivan couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for those that had to spend a lifetime behind bars. But alas, even seeing the inside of a cell hadn’t stopped him from making his way straight back to the bratva. They were his family, from a young age he’d been raised them, they had taught him everything he knew and forged him to be the most brutal of all their enforcers. After linking up with his chosen family, Ivan’s next port of call was his lover.. He wondered if they had kept their promise. When the man had initially been captured, he had one phone call, and that one phone call was to them.. His lover had promised that they would wait, that they wouldn’t love again until he returned to them. Ivan knew there would be hell to pay if the promise had been broken. Making his way to the home which he knew to belong to the other, the Russian popped the collar of his leather jacket, licking his lips as he made an attempt at composing himself before knocking. Though, before he had chance to even walk up the driveway, he saw someone leave through the front door, placing a kiss to the lips of his significant other as the left. Fire burned behind the azure hues of the man as his hands balled into fists. “And here I thought promises were not so difficult to keep.” The man spoke out, the Russian twang to his accent evident through the anger in his words as well as the raised volume at which he spoke.

It had been five years. Five long years. She wasn’t even the one that had received the prison sentence, but it felt like it. After all, she’d lost the person she loved. Her life felt like it had been paused as she waited for him to return, yet somehow she had to carry on. Natalie had promised Ivan that she would wait for him, and she had meant it, but five years was a long time. She hadn’t meant for anything to happen. It was just two friends going for a few drinks or well, that’s all it was meant to be. The next thing she knew, she woke up in bed next to him. Natalie wanted to regret it but she didn’t. She’d been faithful and waited for nearly four years. She felt bad for cheating on Ivan, yet at the same time it didn’t seem fair that she had to wait five whole years for a man that continuedly picked a dangerous life style over her. Nothing would change when he got released, if he even got released. And so she had chosen herself for once. She owed it to herself to see where things went with Lucas. Yet, somehow, she couldn’t help the shock and the wave of emotions hit her as she heard Ivan’s voice. Gently pushing Lucas aside, she looked down the driveway, not quite believing her own ears. She looked at Ivan, mouth agape, not really knowing what to say. Natalie turned back to Lucas and told him to get back into the house. She could already hear the venom in Ivan’s voice and the last thing she wanted was him hurting Lucas. “Five years Ivan, it’s been five years.” 

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.

Kai watched her, amusement flickering behind his dark eyes as she tried—really tried—to act like she wasn’t enjoying this. But he saw it. The way she leaned into the fire just as much as he did. The way she kept engaging, even when she pretended to be over it.

His smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as she threw her little insult at him. Top three, huh? "Damn," he mused, tilting his head. "Only top three? Guess I’ll have to try harder."

His gaze flicked to her tattoos again as she mentioned her job. Careful placement. Now, that was interesting. He could respect it.

And then she hit him with that look—steady, unblinking, really seeing him.

Kai didn’t flinch from it. If anything, he met it head-on, letting the moment stretch, like a silent challenge. Then, just when he thought she was about to fire off another sharp remark, she threw him a curveball instead.

His brow lifted slightly, watching as she downed her drink and disappeared into the crowd. He could’ve stayed put. Could’ve let her walk off, called her bluff. But something about the way she looked back over her shoulder—waiting—had his feet moving before he even made the decision.

Kai weaved through the bodies in the bar, slipping past clusters of people until the heavy bass of the music dulled and the cooler night air hit his skin. The smoking area was quieter, less suffocating, and there she was, standing there like she hadn’t just surprised the hell out of him.

He stepped up beside her, hands slipping into the pockets of his leather jacket. A flick of his wrist and a cigarette was between his fingers, resting lazily against his lips as he fished out a lighter. "So," he said, voice lower now, less performative. "You always drag the ‘annoying, egotistical jerks’ outside for some one-on-one time, or am I just that special?" The smirk was still there, but his tone—just like the air between them—had shifted. He sparked the lighter and let the flame lick at the end of the cigarette. A slow inhale, the ember glowing, before he exhaled a ribbon of smoke into the night air.

despite his efforts to make things more amicable between them, pia was not buying it. the more he spoke in a way that seemed sincere the interesting thing was pia longed for their fiery comments once more. it was interesting that she had never been quite so rattled by someone before and yet kai made it all too easy. "what? are you saying i enjoy bickering with you?" she asked as her brow rose in a way that was prompted curiosity. "i mean out of all the annoying, egotistical jerks i have met in my life you are a shoo in for top three so congratulations, it's quite an honour." she turned her head a fraction to take another sip of the amber liquid as the ice clinked against her glass. "i don't think we are at a point where i am going to open up to you about what my artwork means. but no, none of them were because it looked cool. though i am careful with placement because of my job and things."

she turned back to look at him her gaze holding as their orbs almost penetrated an intense stare. "the pet name again?" she didn't show any signs of emotion with her tone of her expression she just looked at him, really taking him in. "you know what.. follow me.." she turned to grab her drink and downed the remained of the ice soothed liquid as she gestured to her friend she would be right back then wondered outside. though an absolute mission considering the sea of people socialising or dancing that she had to weave through in order to get the relief of fresh air. she waited a moment, turning to look over her shoulder for him to appear. the smoking area was much quieter she could hear herself think.

Plot 68: Stranger Danger

Felix shifts slightly in the hospital bed, wincing as pain tugs at his ribs. His eyes flicker up to Cassia, then down just as quickly, like he’s not sure where to look. The bruises and cuts along his cheekbone are darkening, and his arm is strapped tight in a sling. He wets his lips, swallowing before he speaks.

"Hey," he says, voice rough, like he hasn’t used it much. His fingers twitch against the blanket. "Didn’t think you’d—uh… that you’d come when they told me they called you." He glances at her again, then away, like holding her gaze for too long might make something crack open. There’s a hesitation in the way his good hand shifts, like he almost wants to reach for her but thinks better of it. Instead, he just exhales softly.

"Sorry they called you." He pauses. "But… I’m glad you’re here."

- open to: m / f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: cassia crocetti, mid-late twenties, dance instructor. firecracker, outgoing, but can be hot-headed. very loyal and soft. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

"no, here's what you don't understand — " her voice is shrill, full of emotion. cassia has never been one to hold back, especially in a situation like this. "i don't care if the fucking pope is back there. i got a call saying they were hurt, that it was an emergency, and i'm here now, so what's the hold up?!" cassia makes a mental note to apologize later. it's not the nurse's fault that there's security and cassia doesn't have any patience. truthfully, her heart is racing. she's not sure what to expect. would they be bloodied and bruised? unconscious? the phone call was vague. her anxiety is the real reason she's being so ruthless. the guard finally ushers cassia to follow him. clad in leggings with an oversized hoodie, hair in a messy bun atop her head, she cautiously follows. he knocks at the door. "you have a visitor," the guard saunters off and cassia steps into the room, eyes glued to the hospital bed. "hey... they, um... they called me."

Text to King: He is not scrawny! But no, not him... not that it's any of your business. Text: As for whether I do this often... wouldn't you like to know ;)

Ruby blinked at her screen, her brain short-circuiting for a solid three seconds as the next text came through.

He did not just—

Her fingers twitched as she hovered over the message, like maybe if she stared at it long enough, it would disappear. But no. It was there.

She had expected teasing, maybe even some cocky remark, but this? She hadn’t thought he’d actually send something back. And yet, there it was. King, in all his smug, self-satisfied glory, clearly very pleased with himself.

A surprised laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. She hated to admit it, but the sheer audacity was kind of… impressive.

Text: Oh, you did NOT just send that. Text: You’re ridiculous.

She paused, fingers tapping against her phone as she debated her next move. Giving him a reaction was exactly what he wanted, but ignoring it would be just as bad. So, instead, she went with:

Text: But hey, points for confidence. And congrats on your erm...impressive package👀

text: ooo burn. i am scorned.

he couldn't help but chuckle at her words, finding this all very amusing and not what he had expected for the evening but there we go.

text: who was it for, huh? not that scrawny idiot i saw outside your door the other day is it? god help me if it is.

text: do you send these type of things often? or is this just a spontaneous decision, hmm?

he was curious to know if she did this often. not in a shaming her kind of way, there were just types of girls who were confident in doing so and others tended to be a bit more subdued.

text: (sends her a photo back of him in his underwear with a clear outline of something)

text: now we are even, no big deal.

Casey felt her eyes on his lip. He could only imagine the state he was in. "Nothing. It's not important -- I just need to leave, and quickly. Say you'll come with me. Please, Corey." The male replied as he begged her. "Yeah, he did, but I'm not taking it anymore. I'm getting far away from here" Casey muttered, wincing as he pressed a hand to his lip.

corey  had  only  been  standing  on  casey’s  doorstep  less  than  a  minute  before  the  door  swung  open.  her  pouty,  glossed  lips  parted,  eyes  zeroing  in  on  her  friend’s  bloodied  lip.  “whoa,  what  happened?”  the  response  fell  from  his  mouth  so  fast  that  her  brain  could  barely  keep  up.  must’ve  had  something  to  do  with  coming  off  a  ten  hour  shift  at  the  gas  station.  it  sounded  like  a  jumbled  mess.  all  she  heard  was  come  with  me.  “c’mere.”  corey  breathed,  pulling  him  onto  the  porch.  “your  dad  did  this?”

Rhiannon didn’t answer right away. She sat with her legs tucked close, toes curling slightly against the wood as if feeling for something unseen. She had always enjoyed going barefoot, connecting to the world beneath her feet. It was something she had done since she was small, living back at the compound. The night air stirred the loose strands of her hair, and she let her gaze drift beyond the patio, toward the sky, the trees, anything but him. Finally, she nodded. “Yes.” A simple answer, quiet but firm.

Another pause, as if she were testing the weight of the words before letting them go. “Too much…everything.” Her fingers traced absent patterns against her knee. “I'm not used to being around strangers, and I've never been to a party before, so the noise is...more than I expected.”

She tilted her head slightly, finally looking at him. “Your head still spins out here?” Her tone wasn’t quite concerned, more curious like she was cataloguing his response the same way she might observe a bird tilting its head before taking flight.

Kit let his other eyelid open as she climbed onto the patio with him. A small part of him thought it would be easier to get up and leave but with the pounding headache he was experiencing he knew he was in no state to be walking back to his place. He mentally adds this as another reason to not go out to parties, on top of the loud music and heavy amounts of people. Despite this, he did find himself being grateful that she'd come onto the patio quietly and hadn't been loud or come out to throw up over the side.

He wasn't sure if he should respond, or in fact how he should respond. It would be rude for him to tell her to leave and the promise of the quiet in the night air was too welcoming for him to ignore. "You can stay." He said with a sigh, leaning his head back once again. He pressed a finger to his temple as they sat in a few moments of silence but was still finding it hard to relax.

Kit turned his head to look at her as she spoke, getting a good look at her since she'd joined him outside. "They're a lot." He replied truthfully. "The music, the crowds, it all makes my head spin." He added. After a few moments of silence he speaks again. "I'm assuming you're the same."

Closed starter || @butlerbarrow He dreams of being back in that trench. He dreams of all the bodies of his comrades. He dreams of their hands grabbing at him. Dozens of them were gangly, gaunt, and pale, with an air of death. They pull at him, dragging him down into the mud until he can't breathe. His own hands reach for the surface, clawing at the phantom fingers grasping his body. Everything is cold, black, and silent except for the muffled, anguished screams. Robbie thrashed in the bed.

His eyes snapped open, a strangled cry escaping his lips. He sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the terror of the dream. For a moment, the darkness of the room seemed to mirror the abyss of the trench, the silence punctuated only by the echo of his own ragged breathing.

Robbie was back in the convalescent home, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the dark, muddy grave that haunted his dreams. The bandages on his shoulder and back felt like a second skin, a constant reminder of the hell he'd escaped. His head throbbed a dull ache that echoed the head injury he'd suffered. He could still see the faces of his comrades, their screams swallowed by the deafening roar of the explosion. The smell of cordite and burning flesh clung to him, a phantom stench that wouldn't leave.

Depressed rp Starters

"You know, you've been acting kinda funny. Everything okay?"

"You sure have been sleeping a lot recently."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not stupid. I know what's going on."

"You've kinda just been off on your own recently. Any reason why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Hey, you know I'm trying to help. Work with me here."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."

"I made you something to eat, and I expect it to be eaten."

"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?"