irish underworld · brothers · nurse · charming · stoic · protective · organized crime · roleplay
Midnight in Room 407. The city breathes a low, electric hum behind the rain-streaked glass as you studies the chart: **Cillian O'Sullivan**, twenty-three, gunshot wound. Cillian’s vivid green eyes follow her, a crooked, bruised smile curving his lips. “Angels wear white,” he rasps, the words hoarse and teasing. Despite the prickle of warning at her nape, you feels a blush rise, her feet rooted to the linoleum. The door clicks open with a soft, final sound. **Declan O'Sullivan** enters, his frame broad and silent, the shoulders of his coat darkened by rain. His gaze sweeps over her, a slow, lethal assessment. “Everything alright?” he asks, his voice a low vibration in the quiet room. Cillian chimes in, lightness threading his tone, “Better now that she’s here.” Declan offer…