I Really Want An AU Where Our Muses Are Married And To Their Friends They Look Really Awesome And Happy

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."

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."

Kai’s smirk faltered the second he saw the shift in her expression. He hadn’t expected that. He’d meant to rile her up, to keep their game going, not—whatever this was. Not her shutting down, withdrawing, like he’d just snuffed out the fire between them with a careless flick of his wrist.

His jaw tensed, watching her clutch her jacket, the way her lips pressed together like she was trying to hold back more than just words.

“Pia—” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but she was already looking away, already dismissing him, already convincing herself that this was over. And that—God, that didn’t sit right with him.

Before she could take a step, he reached for her wrist again, this time gentler, more deliberate. “That’s not what I meant.” A sigh left him, low and sharp, like he hated having to say this out loud. “You think I don’t—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to keep her there if she really wanted to go, but enough to make her listen.

“I don’t want her, you've got to know that” he admitted, quieter now, but no less intense. “We've been playing these games all night. I don’t get jealous. I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before locking his gaze back onto hers, something raw flickering beneath the frustration. “But then you make an appearance here in this shitty little club where you clearly stand out, and suddenly, I’m throwing punches in bars and watching every move you make like a fucking idiot.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his grip on her wrist loosened, fingers dragging down her arm before dropping away completely. His expression hardened again, but not before she caught the ghost of something else—something vulnerable, something unguarded.

“So yeah. Go back inside if that's what you want. Go find someone else to dance with.” He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes scanning her face like he memorised it. “But don’t stand here and act like it's not you that I want to take home with me tonight. That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

of course he was going to twist it to his advantage. couldn't just outwardly admit that he was envious about the fact that she was close to another male, and that she let him kiss her as well. the fact was pia was a pretty confident person, she knew she was fortunate to be graced with good looks and she was content in herself and her own skin, however kai definitely made that waver.

the fact was, his comment didn't make her want to go out there and kiss someone else just to see if he was bluffing, oh no, it made her feel withdrawn instead. he'd officially put a stop to their little game in one fleeting sentence and he didn't even realise it. now she felt dejected and not to mention that she was even more furious with him than she was earlier, which she didn't think was possible.

"oh okay.. fine, have it your way.. you hit him because he was an asshole, right.. cos he was dancing with me, because you didn't seem to know him so that's not a very credible answer. but i am done, kai.. made it clear that i'm not exactly desireable anymore, so i'll save myself embarassment and quit while i'm ahead, hmm?"

she curved her jacket over her arm, her nostrils flaring with clear irritation as she looked away from him for a moment, lips pursed.

"have fun with your peppy little date over there."

Plot 67:  Reservations & Revelations 

Kai had spent the last ten minutes leaning against the wall outside, rolling a cigarette between his fingers but never lighting it. He didn’t need it—his nerves were already buzzing, his head already clouded with the scent of her, the weight of their last conversation still pressing against his chest.

And then she appeared.

The town car pulled up like something out of a movie, sleek and dark, a sharp contrast to the warm glow of the streetlights. The window lowered just enough for him to catch the glint in her eyes, that look—knowing, challenging, absolutely fucking intoxicating.

"Get in. Now."

His lips twitched. He should make a comment, something smug about how demanding she was, how she thought she could snap her fingers and he’d come running. Instead, he just tossed the unlit cigarette to the ground and stepped forward, pulling the door open fully before sliding in beside her.

The door shut with a quiet click, sealing them inside, away from the world. The low hum of music filled the space between them. He wasn't used to this kind of luxury. It almost made him a little uncomfortable, but instead, he tried to keep his focus on her.

Kai turned to her, his body angled slightly, one arm resting against the back of the seat as his dark eyes flickered over her face, lingering on her lips.

"So," he drawled, voice low, thick with something unspoken. "What exactly do you plan on doing with me now that you've got me all to yourself?" The male asked, back to teasing her.

all evening she had been first in line to his quippy little comments and actions, it had been an endless cycle of them trying to fluster one another and it had worked especially for pia. she knew that earlier, despite his words that he was envious which is why he kept such a keen eye on her and her every move. she loved that he didn't falter in his gaze, that he was first row at the show that they had created. every move she made was purposeful for his amusement, and with every moment that went by with them one upping one another, it had now come tumbling down.

she wanted him, god did she ever. she couldn't stop thinking about the way his body felt against her own, how he reacted to her, how that low moan sprung out of him as they kissed. she needed him like she'd never needed anyone before. no other male she had met had made her feel a fraction of emotions that he seemed to in a matter of hours.

she couldn't stop thinking about him, feeling the ghost of his lips tingling against her own, the smell of his cologne still inbedded in her senses. the way his touch was firm but gentle all at the same time. even that look in his orbs when he was clearly up to no good. she wanted to keep all of it going, on a loop, over and over again.

yet he managed to say a few words and it all unravelled and he had convinced her that if she DID kiss someone else now he wouldn't actually do anything to stop it and that made her feel stupid for even entertaining the idea.

she exhaled a breath as she looked back at him, her expression was unreadable at this point, what could she be thinking about? she tapped a few letters on her keyboard of her phone and then shot a glance back up to him.

"meet me outside in 10. don't be late."

and with that she was gone, returning ten minutes later as promised outside with her town car. she had instructed the driver to loop around the city, put up the tinted window in the middle and to make sure everything was sound proof and with music playing in the background. she opened the door a fraction giving him a knowing look.

"get in. now."

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?

“we just broke up and i honestly can’t stand being with you right now but i was trying to leave and apparently we got snowed in so i guess we’re stuck together” au

Lydia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders finally slumping as she perched on the edge of the bed. She glanced at Kaleb—really looked at him—taking in the exhaustion in his posture, the quiet understanding in his eyes.

She gave a small, humourless chuckle, running a hand through her already-messy hair. "Yeah," she admitted, voice quieter than usual. "Always."

She let the silence linger for a moment before flopping back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. "I swear, I could write a book on bad dates at this point. Chapter One: ‘How to Spot a Walking Red Flag in Five Minutes or Less.’"

She threw an arm over her eyes, shaking her head. "Tonight's disaster? Talked about himself for two hours straight. Didn't ask me a single question. Like, sir, I promise you, I do not care about your fantasy football league that much."

A short laugh escaped her, but it lacked any real amusement. "The worst part is, I knew. I always know. Five minutes in, and I was already plotting my escape. I should start carrying smoke bombs or something—make my exits more dramatic."

She peeked at him from under her arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "Or, you know, I could just stop going on these stupid dates altogether. But where’s the fun in that?" Lydia stated, flipping over on to her stomach to look at him properly. "Your turn... Make me feel better about my tragic night."

Kaleb’s eyes widened a fraction as he saw Lydia’s familiar silhouette against the window. Of course, it was her. When a date went south—and they often seemed to do so for her—she always ended up at his window. He’d grown accustomed to the soft tap, tap, tap against the glass, a signal he knew well. He pulled back the curtains, his own exhaustion mirrored in her posture.

Without a word, he unlatched the window. Lydia clambered inside with the practiced ease of someone who'd done it countless times. It was a routine, a comforting ritual built on years of a friendship deeper than most people understood.

Kaleb knew she wasn’t really asking a question. It was more of a statement, and one he already knew the answer to. He just nodded as he replied, "Always. You?"

Her hands shook as she held the phone, her body still vibrating with the adrenaline of what had just happened. She closed her eyes, leaning against a nearby wall, the cold air biting into her skin, but it didn’t compare to the ache in her head. "I—I'm at Jason's place... well round the corner'," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The pain in her head was growing, a sharp throb that made it hard to think straight. Her mind kept replaying the fight—the yelling, the way he had gotten too close, and then the moment when he threw the glass bottle, the impact making her head snap back painfully.

"I... I hit my head. When he threw something," she whispered, her breath hitching as she tried not to break down. "My head hurts so bad. I feel dizzy." She paused, feeling guilt churn in her stomach. She hated that she had to call for help, hated that she couldn't just deal with it on her own, but the truth was, she felt like she was unravelling.

"I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your night. I shouldn’t have—" The words felt hollow as they left her lips. Her chest tightened with regret, but she couldn’t undo what had already happened. "I didn’t want to involve you, I just... I didn’t know where else to go. I just need you to come, please."

Her vision swam for a moment, and she gripped the phone tighter, trying to stay conscious.

open to: any gender~ ↳ info: jackson, 30, mechanics shop teacher

when the other called him to come pick them up he found himself getting an earful from his date. sure it was valentine's day and he stopped their dinner but the call on the other end was too important to miss. his heart sunk when they cried, and he was fast to give his date money. "i'm so sorry.." he murmurs. quickly heading outside and pulling out his keys he head for his truck. "where are you i'm coming it's okay... don't cry.."