Ben Barnes In Gold Digger (episode 4)

Text Symbols Reference

Smileys ☹ ☺ ☻ ت ヅ ツ ッ シ Ü ϡ ﭢ

Love ♥ ۵ 웃 유 ღ ♂ ♀

Zodiac ♈ ♉ ♊ ♋ ♌ ♍ ♎ ♏ ♐ ♑ ♒ ♓ 

Closed starter || @thosemalemuses​

Brooke stood outside the male’s apartment, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Dj, her pimp, had dropped her off outside the male’s door a few minutes ago, telling her he’d be back in two hours. That in itself had shocked her. Zach had paid for an extra hour. Maybe this time he wanted to do more than talk. She didn’t like to guess anymore. People were odd creatures - just when you thought you had them sussed, they would do something to surprise you. Zach was more difficult than most. The blonde couldn’t get a read on him. Not a lot of things intrigued her, but he definitely did. She pressed his doorbell once more, growing a little impatient in the cold night breeze with nothing but a small black dress to keep her warm.

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

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.."

“we’re a little more than just best friends, aren’t we? so why don’t you just admit it, why do you keep pushing me against dirty walls of nightclubs and silencing me with maddening kisses whenever i tell you i love you?” give me this or die

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?"

a plot where...

a rough around the edges, con artist girl is doing dirty work for her shitty boyfriend and they decide to target a rich, wealthy, cocky sort of young socialite male who feels like his life is a bit empty and redundant, and she may seem like she’s in this con artist game for the money (and she is, partly, because she grew up really poor and knows how it feels to starve) but she also has an unhealthy attachment to the boyfriend even though he treats her like crap and uses her to attract rich males, and then, on the night where she has dressed up and come up with a fake name and is about to make her move on the rich young man she realizes oh, he’s actually extremely attractive and cute and not like the other creepy old men she preys on? and oh, he’s actually extremely charismatic and witty and charming and kind of a dick, but not to her? and oh, now they’re kind of going out on multiple really amazing dates and spending tons of time together and she’s supposed to be digging for his deepest secrets and finding out numbers to his safes and stealing jewelry pieces he probably won’t miss and then one night, her wallet falls out of her bag and… OH, why is her name not the name that she said it was on her drivers license and why are his personal, private cartier bracelets engraved with his initials in there too and who the fuck is calling her phone ??????

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

Astrid stared at the door, from the couch. Waiting to see if her visitor would disappear. The knocks sent a dull thud through her skull, each one landing like an unwelcome heartbeat. She knew it was Roman.

Of course, it was Roman. No one else cared enough to physically come to her apartment to check on her.

She hadn't meant to disappear—not really. But the weight of everything had settled in thick, pressing her into the couch, into the mattress, into the silence. Days blurred. Maybe weeks. She couldn't remember the last time she responded to a text.

Another set of knocks. His voice, firm but not unkind. Her fingers curled tight around the edge of a blanket she hadn't realized she dragged from the couch as she made her way over to the door, still not opening it.

Her throat was dry. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. “what do you want?”

- open to: f / nb (mutuals and non-mutuals) - muse: roman serrano, mid-late twenties, twitch streamer who's just gotten pretty popular, lover boy, golden retriever type of guy. - based on this prompt. feel free to dm me if you'd like to plot !!

knuckles wrapped at his neighbor's door. it's out of the ordinary for roman to have the confidence to go to someone's door unannounced. he's always been the type to shoot a text when he's on his way and usually expected his guests to do the same. he was a private guy. roman couldn't help but worry, though, when his neighbor seemed to stop coming around. he hadn't even seen them at the mailboxes or in passing aside from once or twice and they didn't look good. while he used to hear laughter, talking, and more than one voice. he can only assume that there's been some sort of break up. he hates to think the worst, that the other person is dead, but he hasn't ruled it out. roman sighs and slides down the wall beside their door, sitting down. another three knocks. "i don't care what you look like or if there's cups all over the apartment -- can you just open the door?"