ON THE DEVIL'S PATH.

dependent mumu to charmingrpg. written by christie.

[anarchvsts]

✦   anarchvsts   :  a  dependent  and  private  multi-muse  affiliated  with  charmingrpg    —    written  and  endured,  but  also  loved  by  christie.  featuring  the  following  muses:

alexis  ruano  malave  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  angel's  owner  )

cain  guerrero  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  head  of  the  cartel  )

cash  valentine  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  demirci  mafia  racer  )

charli  bianchi  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  soa  member  /  hacker  )

lola  laurent  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  cartel  drug  dealer  )

riley  harrison  —  intro.  study.  threads.  (  vice  detective  )

[southernbclls]

"i mean .... most shifts? yeah, they can," she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. twelve hour shifts completely on her feet often left her feeling exhausted, but it all seemed like second nature to her now. she couldn't truly imagine having a job where she just sat behind a desk all day, she craved the constant hustle and choas that both the hospital and club brought. "i do bring in good paychecks from the hospital. i just couldn't bring myself to quit the club once i graduated, guess i grew to like the other girls too much. plus, i basically just pick up when i want, the money helps out my old folks and keeping the family business afloat," she added on. the girl was about to take another sip from her beer when she stopped midway, glaring at charli. "bitch, you're what....three years older than me? so are you calling me old?"

[anarchvsts]

the  hacker's  reasons  for  asking  weren't  meant  for  aurora  to  have  to  explain  herself,  she  was  merely  curious  because  it  seemed  like  so  much  for  one  person  to  do.  but  then  again  charli  engaged  in  club  business  and  also  spent  countless  hours  working  on  her  computers.  "yeah  ..."  charli  sighed,  some  of  her  own  income  went  to  keeping  her  father's  store  in  business,  or  to  support  her  mother  and  sister.  "i  get  that  and  the  extra  money  definitely  helps.  i  guess  i  just  feel  tired  for  you  and  am  projecting."  a  little  smile  appeared  and  she  shrugged.  maybe  she  was  forever  in  big  sister  mode.  "not  even,"  she  laughed  softly  and  shook  her  head,  "you're  always  gonna  be  younger  than  me.  but  just  take  it  from  me  ...  if  you  work  yourself  to  the  bone  all  the  time  you're  gonna  feel  old  long  before  you  actually  are."

[outlawoverture]

Eliseo’s  eyes  didn’t  leave  her  when  she  leaned  forward.  Not  hungrily  —  deliberately.  Observant.  The  way  a  man  watched  a  chessboard,  not  a  distraction.  He  took  in  the  subtle  confidence  in  her  posture,  the  glow  of  her  screens  reflecting  faintly  across  her  features,  the  quiet  contradiction  she  embodied:  biker  grit  wrapped  around  a  mind  that  lived  in  code  and  circuitry.

A  soft  breath  of  a  laugh  slipped  past  his  lips.  “Bossy?”  he  echoed,  head  tilting  just  slightly,  impressed  with  the  quip  that  spilled  over  her  mouth.  “No,  hermosa.  I  prefer  willing  cooperation.  It’s  far  more  interesting.”  And  this  very  well  seemed  like  he  had  her  seated  at  her  own  free  will.

His  fingers  traced  once  along  the  edge  of  the  table,  idle  but  precise.  “Different,”  he  clarified,  voice  lowering,  smooth  as  aged  whiskey,  “means  I  wouldn’t  be  asking  so  politely.  And  you'd  still  be  smiling  at  me  while  you  resisted.”

There  was  no  challenge  in  his  tone.  No  pressure.  Just  a  quiet  confidence  that  made  the  words  land  heavier  than  they  should.

He  leaned  back  a  fraction,  studying  her  again  —  this  woman  who  could  navigate  loud  clubhouses,  patched  egos,  roaring  engines,  and  still  keep  half  the  town  unknowingly  balanced  on  whatever  lived  behind  those  glowing  screens.  It  intrigued  him  more  than  he  let  on.

At  her  question,  his  gaze  flicked  briefly  toward  the  bar  before  returning  to  her.  “A  drink,”  he  decided.  “We  are  not  in  a  rush  tonight.”  His  expression  softened.  “Business  keeps  the  peace,”  he  agreed.  “Is that what is entertaining us?”

A  faint  smirk  tugged  at  his  mouth.  “Order  something  you  think  I’d  like.  Let’s  see  how  well  you  really  know  me.”

[anarchvsts]

at  his  return  her  brow  lifted,  a  silent  encouragement  for  eliseo  to  continue.  especially  if  he  was  going  to  continue  to  roll  out  terms  of  endearment  in  spanish.  something  that  tickled  at  her  love  for  her  roots.  a  smirk  formed  in  response  and  there  was  a  gleam  in  her  gaze  that  could  be  difficult  to  decipher.  was  she  being  playful,  flirtatious,  or  challenging  and  trying  throwing  him  off  this  smooth  operator  slickness?  "do  you  really  think  i'm  beautiful?"

there  was  no  flinch  or  fidgeting,  no  insecurity  clinging  to  her  tone,  just  an  assured  woman  that  was  ready  to  say  cut  the  bullshit  if  he  really  didn't  mean  it.  she  was  woman  enough  and  mature  enough  to  do  a  job  for  the  sake  of  it,  for  the  sons,  and  maybe  even  for  her  enjoyment  of  the  task  without  being  shined  in  the  process.

"i  could  be  willing  and  you  still  be  bossy  ..."  charli  leaned  back  a  bit,  let  her  shoulders  press  into  the  booth  cushions  behind  her  as  she  captured  her  bottom  lip  between  her  teeth  as  she  regarded  the  high  ranking  cartel  man  across  from  her.  "they're  not  mutually  exclusive."

when  eliseo  elaborated  confusion  flashed  at  her  brow  for  a  brief  second.  the  hacker  breathed  in,  her  brown  eyes  flickered  to  her  screen,  and  then  her  hand  shifted  so  that  her  finger  could  circle  around  on  the  trackpad.  "you're  contradicting  yourself,"  the  brunette  finally  said  a  beat  later.

"also  shows  you  have  no  idea  how  stubborn  i  can  be."  a  little  smile  played  on  charli's  lips  then  because  she  realized  then,  when  he'd  leaned  back,  just  how  much  he  studied  her  in  their  meetings.  should  she  have  been  doing  the  same?

sometimes,  especially  with  living  in  this  very  digital  age  and  how  skilled  she  was  with  moving  about  in  the  ether,  charli  felt  like  she  was  the  most  powerful  person  in  the  room.  the  things  she  was  capable  of  just  from  a  desk,  her  computer  a  weapon,  could  be  frightening  if  anyone  really  thought  about  it.

"we're  not  in  a  rush,"  charli  echoed,  amused,  and  closed  her  laptop,  set  it  and  the  ipad  aside  then,  "and  you  want  to  test  me.  ok  ..."  after  waving  a  waitress  over  the  hacker  ordered  him  a  wild  common  reposado  tequila  with  lime  on  the  side  and  then  looked  at  him  when  the  waitress  departed,  curious  if  she'd  gotten  it  right.  "you  seem  like  a  complex  yet  velvety  type  ...  how'd  i  do?"

[mortisetlux]

the  pit  had  always  embodied  a  sense  of  chaos  ,  the  constant  flow  of  emergencies  demanding  immediate  attention  ,  pulling  one  from  one  bedside  to  the  next  until  time  was  a  lost  sense  .  it  had  never  been  a  room  nazli  particularly  liked  ,  and  yet  as  the  days  of  her  residency  trickled  by  ,  she  found  herself  drawn  to  it  —  or  ,  more  precisely  ,  to  the  familiar  faces  that  slipped  through  the  double  doors  again  and  again  .

like  the  man  in  front  of  her  now  .  her  attention  lingered  on  is  arm  ,  eyes  tracing  the  deep  cut  along  his  forearm  ,  calculating  its  severity  and  quietly  speculating  how  such  an  injury  had  come  to  be  .  when  his  questions  settled  in  the  space  between  them  ,  she  finally  looked  up  ,  meeting  his  gaze  .  ❝  without  further  testing  ,  unfortunately  ,  the  verdict's  still  out  .  ❞  she  said  ,  releasing  a  soft  sigh  .  a  smile  followed  as  she  straightened  up  .  ❝  tough  guy  ,  huh  ?  i'll  want  to  irrigate  and  debride  first  ,  but  it  shouldn't  take  long  .  ❞  she  motioned  to  the  nurse  within  the  space  ,  who  moved  off  to  gather  the  necessary  tools  .

❝  so  —  is  this  the  part  where  you  tell  me  i  should  see  the  other  guy  ?  ❞  nazli  added  lightly  ,  lips  settled  into  a  soft  smile  ,  guiding  his  arm  onto  the  stand  .

[anarchvsts]

"that  doesn't  sound  good,"  riley  mused  right  back,  allowing  a  mild  faux  alarm  to  seep  into  his  expression,  "do  whatever  you  can  to  save  it,  doc.  i  can't  be  the  one  armed  man."  a  smile  cracked  his  expression  and  most  might  find  his  amusement  and  ability  to  joke  while  having  a  knife  inflicted  gash  in  his  arm  a  bit  concerning,  but  he'd  been  on  the  job  so  long  that  he  was  desensitized.

at  first  he  nodded  along  to  her  informing  the  next  steps  in  tending  to  the  would  that  was  earned  during  an  arrest  gone  wrong.  the  vice  detective's  blue  gaze  shifted  from  her  to  the  result  of  a  battle  knowing  that  the  drug  dealer  with  the  ever  long  rap  sheet  was  also  somewhere  in  this  hospital.  "if  you  find  where  i  missed  the  knife  during  the  pat  down  in  the  debris  let  me  know,"  the  corner  of  his  mouth  shifted  but  the  smile  never  fully  formed.  riley  would  have  to  write  in  his  report  about  the  oversight.

"well,"  his  eyes  glinted  when  they  met  hers  again,  amusement  and  maybe  charm  had  returned,  "he  is  in  this  hospital  somewhere.  probably  getting  x-rays."  the  detective  shrugged,  he  was  elite  force  military  trained  and  battle  worn  long  before  law  enforcement.  even  if  riley  was  getting  older  he  still  wasn't  the  man  to  pick  a  fight  with.

"but  i'd  prefer  if  you  didn't  see  him,"  he  then  said,  his  gaze  pinned  to  her  face,  "he's  not  exactly  a  nice  guy."  as  she  moved  his  arm  onto  the  stand  he  slightly  shifted  it  as  if  to  say  'see?'.

[divinitis]

closed starter ✧ cain guerrero. ( @anarchvsts ) location ✧ angel's.

"I think they're sending someone for me. " Very few were aware of the circumstances in which he'd joined the cartel. Adriano hadn't meant to throw it out so casually, over expensive spirits and the watchful eyes of Cain's security, but the hitman knew better than to stall. Cain hadn't gotten to where he was by avoiding sore subjects, and Adriano suspected that anything threatening his organization's members would be interpreted as an immediate threat to him. "I'm not sure when. I'm not even sure they're actually sending anyone.'' He attempted a shrug, but the tension in his shoulder betrayed him, an underlying sense of something nagging at him. "Italy's been too quiet. I haven't heard anything since I left, and now none of my contacts have anything to report." It went without saying that silence was rarely a good omen from the mafia. "Either they're sending someone to take me back, or…" he trailed, letting the possibility of his demise hang between them while he threw back the rest of his whiskey.

[anarchvsts]

as  the  head  of  a  dangerous,  sought  after  international  criminal  organization  the  former  hitman  who'd  bloodied  his  way  up  the  ladder  his  shark-like  gaze  panned  the  crowd.  his  security  was  excellent  and  watching  all  his  sides  but  practically  nobody  was  attuned  as  he  was.

an  ear  was  open  for  adriano  while  a  tumbler  of  reposado  tequila  sat  in  front  of  him.  the  hitman  knew  not  to  doddle  and  waste  his  time,  this  wasn't  a  social  call,  cain  didn't  really  do  that,  and  when  the  italian  did  speak  his  head  turned  slowly  to  fix  on  the  man  across  from  him.

"that's  not  a  war  italy  wants  to  start,"  was  his  simple  response.  the  cartel  was  notoriously  violent  and  brutal  in  their  tactics,  not  polished  like  old  italian  crime  families.  "if  your  contacts  are  quiet  that  means  someone  got  to  them,"  he  stated  soon  after.  for  a  brief  moment  he  looked  into  the  aged  tequila,  there  was  a  stillness  about  cain  that  unsettled  most  people,  and  then  his  darkened  eyes  lifted  to  meet  adriano's  again.  "do  you  trust  me?"

it  wasn't  that  adriano's  paranoia  wasn't  understandable,  considering  ...  but  cain  had  instructed  the  man  to  cut  all  ties  with  italy.  any  contact  with  that  life  gave  them  a  line  to  him.  frankly,  the  hitman  should  know  better.

"they're  not  going  to  send  someone  or  do  something  you'd  expect  if  they  know  your  allegiances  now  ..."  again,  his  gaze  fixed  on  adriano  in  a  way  that  was  all  too  clear  that  he  was  reading  the  man.  some  suspicion  was  gathering  in  the  back  of  his  mind  and  if  he  decided  that  adriano  wasn't  loyal  ...  cain  pushed  his  drink  aside  with  a  nudge  of  his  fingers  and  his  gaze  returned  to  a  wandering  of  the  scene.

[divinitis]

It was sick, the way they spoke about their parents. If anyone from high French society were to hear them, they would pass out from the filth they exchanged, how little regard they had for the people who'd birthed them. Ilona watched her sister from over the rim of her glass, brows furrowing as she listened. "Feelings?" The thought was so preposterous she couldn't even entertain it. "You think that man is capable of feeling anything beyond greed or the tug in his balls when they need emptying?" She scoffed, shaking her head at the other blonde. There were many great things their parents had achieved. They had exemplary careers, impeccable manners, and pristine reputations that carried the Laurent name far beyond what their offspring could ever manage. Feelings and emotions, on the other hand, were the one thing they'd never bothered with. Ilona often thought they'd have been closer if they were two names on a donor sheet rather than the people who were tasked with raising them. "You think she'll get jail time?" Ilona suddenly shot up from where she was slumped over her seat, champagne sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. A wide smile split her face, delighted at the thought. "Fuck, now I really hope she guts the bitch."

[anarchvsts]

"well,"  lola  absently  combed  her  fingers  through  her  precious  blonde  locks,  speaking  so  thoughtfully,  "he  did  seem  to  feel  terrible  when  he  sent  me  that  black  ferrari."  it'd  been  the  wrong  color,  not  red,  and  the  heiress  had  sent  it  back.  "sent  me  the  right  one  with  that  alligator  birkin  inside.  he  even  had  his  assistant  write  a  little  apology  note."

long  lashes  blinked  against  her  high  cheekbones  and  the  drug  dealer  shrugged  with  a  devil  may  care  attitude,  sipped  her  drink,  and  knew  her  older  sister  was  likely  correct.  their  old  money  french  parents  were  like  most  with  that  kind  of  wealth  and  out  of  touch  with  the  way  the  rest  of  the  world  moved  and  operated.  they  only  knew  how  to  show  affection  through  material  things  and  for  children  raised  in  that  the  blonde  laurent  daughters  were  bitterly  starved  for  real  love.

"how  many  affairs  do  you  think  they've  had  on  each  other?"  they'd  played  this  game  before  and  the  number  was  always  different.  "i  mean  outside  of  the  sex  parties  and  swinger  bullshit,"  she  waved  the  hand  holding  a  smoking  cigarette  she'd  forgotten  about  and  rolled  her  eyes.

"fuck  no,"  a  laugh  burst  out  of  her  and  she  looked  at  ilo  with  incredulity,  "maman  hates  orange.  she'd  never  allow  that.  i  don't  think  she'd  even  tolerate  martha  stewart's  prison."  not  being  able  to  wear  fine  fabrics,  lasting  impressionable  perfumes,  and  impeccable  hair  and  makeup  would  be  the  end  of  her.  "you  know  she's  gonna  find  a  way  to  do  it.  probably  will  get  in  touch  with  the  chandonnes,"  lola's  thoughts  had  gone  to  the  french  crime  family,  "you  watch  that  bitch  disappear  off  the  face  of  the  earth."

[outlawoverture]

Chelsea  had  braced  for  a  little  bite-back—Riley  wasn’t  exactly  the  type  to  swoon  at  a  doorstep  surprise—but  his  tone  clipped  some  of  the  shine  off  her  smirk.  Not  all  of  it,  though.  She  was  good  at  taking  a  hit  and  making  it  look  like  she  meant  to.  She  didn’t  expect  to  show  and  have  him  foaming  at  the  mouth  for  her,  no,  but  this  felt  like  she  was  encroaching  on  his  precious  time.  The  blonde  chewed  lightly  on  her  lip,  tormenting  the  plumpness  there,  scrambling  to  find  a  play  that  didn’t  seem  bothered  by  Riley’s  monotony.

“Wow,”  she  exhaled,  stepping  past  him  only  after  he  moved  aside,  her  white  boots  soft  against  the  floor.  “You  really  know  how  to  make  a  girl  feel  welcome.”  Her  voice  carried  its  usual  playful  cadence,  but  there  was  a  subtle  dimming  around  the  edges,  something  softer,  quieter.  Some  sparkle  dimmed  behind  her  eyes.  She  didn't  want  to  get  her  hopes  shot  down  just  yet.

She  held  the  six-pack  against  her  hip  as  she  took  in  the  room—the  bottle  on  the  end  table,  the  open  file,  the  muted  TV’s  glow  bouncing  off  his  tired  features.  It  wasn’t  the  first  time  she’d  seen  a  man  running  on  fumes.  Maybe  that  it  was  it.  It  could  be  just  exhaustion.  Or,  maybe,  it  was  more  one  sided.  That  wouldn't  be  the  first  time  for  Chelsea,  either.

“Bad  news  for  you,”  she  murmured  with  a  flick  of  her  thumb  against  the  cardboard  handle,  “curiosity  never  killed  me.  Just  gets  me  into…  interesting  neighborhoods.”  Her  eyes  lifted  to  meet  his,  searching  for  a  hint  of  warmth,  humor—anything—but  settled  for  the  cool  ocean-blue  he  offered.  He  was  clearly  a  mystery,  which  prompted  Chelsea  to  push  her  lips  together.  “Bed  time?” 

She  moved  to  the  edge  of  his  living  room,  but  didn’t  claim  any  real  space.  Didn’t  sit.  Didn’t  sprawl.  Even  the  beer  she  held  remained  unopened.  Rather,  Chelsea  adjusted  the  black  top  and  the  frayed  edges  of  her  skirt  riding  on  her  thighs.  His  jab  about  the  bribe  coaxed  a  ghost  of  her  earlier  grin  back.  A  beat,  then  she  nodded  toward  the  six-pack.  “And  yeah  …  a  bribe  ...  the  beer  was  just  to  get  me  in  the  door.”  A  shrug  tugged  at  her  sweater,  pulling  it  partially  off  one  shoulder  before  she  nudged  it  back  up.  “And  maybe  an  excuse.”

He  shut  the  door  behind  her,  and  the  boundaries  came  with  it—sharp  ones,  the  kind  she  wasn’t  used  to  respecting  but  found  herself  toeing  tonight.  Chelsea  inhaled,  exhaled,  then  faced  him  fully  when  he  ordered  her  to  get  to  the  point.  Well,  it  was  off  to  a  more  difficult  start,  off-putting  at  best,  never  quite  used  to  being  met  with  this.  But,  ironically,  Chelsea  was  a  girl  that  was  anything  but  dishonest.

"You  got  a  girl  on  your  doorstep  afterhours  with  a  pretty  short  skirt,"  Her  eyes  lowered,  lashes  brushing  her  cheeks  as  her  boldness  cooled  but  brow  ticked.  “I  just  didn’t  think  you’d  mind  seeing  me.”

[anarchvsts]

"well,"  blue  eyes  tracked  the  curvy  dancer  as  she  made  entry  into  his  private  space,  "i  wasn't  exactly  expecting  a  stripogram  asking  to  be  let  in."  for  a  moment  he  stared  at  the  back  of  her  shoulders,  then  her  blonde  head  before  he  moved  to  close  his  front  door  behind  her.  "who  even  sent  you?"  it  could  be  meant  both  ways  ⸺  perhaps  someone  on  the  team  thought  they  were  funny,  or  the  powers  that  be  at  black  widow,  a  place  owned  by  the  cartel,  were  trying  to  invade  his  space  in  the  same  way  he  kept  encroaching  on  theirs.

seeing  chelsea  in  his  private  space  messed  with  his  head  a  bit.  especially  in  the  way  she  seemed  to  take  him  in.  not  physically,  but  the  way  he  appeared  to  live  in  her  perspective.  when  his  gaze  clocked  the  open  file  the  vice  detective  moved  to  close  it.  in  fact,  riley  took  it  a  step  further  and  placed  privileged  information  on  the  top  shelf,  out  of  her  reach,  of  a  bookcase  in  his  living  room.

"cats  have  nine  lives,"  he  countered,  "you're  too  young  to  be  wearing  them  all  out."  by  his  observation  she  seemed  ...  uncomfortable?  and  riley  thought:  good.  this  was  a  mix  of  things  that  tensed  his  shoulders  because  he  knew  the  likelihood  of  it  not  ending  well.  for  the  job,  to  get  what  he  needed,  the  las  vegas  native  could  pretend  to  be  her  friend.  but  taking  in  the  little  top  and  thigh-hugging  skirt?  he  most  definitely  couldn't  be  that  for  her.  that  would  get  him  fired  and  put  a  huge  investigation  at  risk.  "yeah,"  he  shifted  his  weight  and  let  out  a  bored  sigh,  not  wanting  her  to  feel  welcome  because  this  shouldn't  be  happening,  "you  know  what  bedtime  is,  right?"

the  response  about  the  beer  put  him  into  action.  they  couldn't  just  continue  to  stand  there  staring  at  each  other  with  the  ambiance  of  the  basketball  game  in  the  background  in  his  living  room.  riley  approached  the  sheriff's  estranged  daughter  with  a  hand  out  indicating  he'd  take  the  six-pack  from  her.  "the  beer  isn't  what  got  you  in,"  the  detective  stated  plainly  right  before  taking  it  off  her  hands  and  hip  and  carried  it  off  into  his  kitchen  with  the  expectation  that  she'd  follow.

after  he'd  set  it  on  the  island  riley  rested  his  hands  atop  the  granite  and  leaned  into  them.  his  gaze  was  sharp  on  hers  and  the  wheels  continued  to  turn  in  his  head.  "an  excuse  for  what?"  and  of  course  her  drawing  attention  back  to  how  she'd  adorned  herself  for  appearing  on  his  doorstep  had  brought  his  attention  back  to  it.  at  her  place  of  work  and  where  he'd  visited  many  times  in  attempts  to  talk  to  the  dancers  and  staff  riley  had  seen  the  blonde  in  much  less.

"you're  assuming  i  have  set  hours."  sensing  where  this  was  headed  he  tried  to  steer  it  in  a  different  direction,  but  riley  couldn't  deny  that  some  part  of  him  was  curious.  "i  don't  mind  seeing  you,"  an  honest  bone  he  threw  her.  "it's  just  that  you're  in  my  house  dressed  to  leave  little  to  the  imagination  ...  i  can  only  assume  what  you're  after."  as  cocky  as  he  could  be  the  detective's  mind  hadn't  gone  in  the  carnal  direction.  his  thought  was  more  to  the  likelihood  that  chelsea  had  been  sent  to  absorb  information  on  where  the  investigation  was  at.

[wildheartcd]

while normal people would be shacking in their boots when preparing to go pick up a large quantity of drugs to smuggle, bec was cool as a cucumber. then again, she did enter burning buildings on a regular basis. this was easy peasy. the drive to the gas station had become routine to ensure there weren't any need for unnecessary stops along the way and to pick up some essentials for her drive.

three red bulls, some skittles, and two ridiculously large beef jerky sticks. her arms were full as she skipped out while music blasted from the phone in her back pocket.

though the familiar sight made her upbeat steps slow some.

"You here to kidnap me or something, riley? kinky." she looked him from his beanie right down to his shoes, her steps slowing while her hand reached her back pocket to lower her volume. "you look like a bit of a creep. i'm shocked people haven't called the cops on you for waiting for me like this." there was a bit of a teasing tone as she walked to her car, opened the door and dumped the contents in the front seat.

there was no doubt he'd become a bit of a pest with his sudden interest in what she was doing outside of the fire station.

"why?" her brow rose as she shuffled her feet on the ground, aware of the time and that there were people waiting on her. "why are you so interested? want to ask me on a date or something?" of course he didn't, but she was trying to get some control and leverage on the situation.

[anarchvsts]

at  first  the  reaction  shone  in  his  expression  was  a  grimace,  but  then  riley's  brow  relaxed  and  something  along  the  lines  of  a  smirk  shaped  his  mouth  at  her  tease.  the  vice  detective  had  bit  down  on  the  instinct  to  return  a  quip,  to  defend  his  look  as  appearing  no  different  than  any  other  man  around  the  area,  but  he  didn't  care  enough.

"call  the  cops  on  the  cop,"  his  brow  lifted,  some  amusement  played  behind  his  eyes,  "that  sounds  productive."

for  a  moment  he  was  distracted  by  everything  in  her  arms  and  he  was  somewhat  surprised  at  how  conspicuous  rebeca  was  behaving.  maybe  he  hadn't  been  clear  enough  about  his  suspicions  and  interest  in  her.  "maybe  i've  just  been  laying  in  wait  here  to  jack  your  red  bull  supply  ...  damn,  are  you  trying  to  give  yourself  a  heart  attack?"  mixed  with  the  sugar  from  the  skittles  riley  was  actually  slightly  concerned.

as  she  moved  away,  onto  her  car,  he  followed  suit.  turning,  the  detective  leaned  back  against  the  front  fender  of  her  vehicle  while  she  dumped  her  haul  inside  and  his  hands  slid  into  the  pockets  of  his  jeans.  "kidnap  you,  kinky,  ask  you  on  a  date  ..."  now  his  smirk  was  more  genuine,  and  his  blue  gaze  less  intense  and  more  entertained.  the  firefighter  was  attractive,  there  was  no  denying  that,  but  they  were  on  opposite  sides  of  something  big.  he  could  lose  his  job  if  he  got  involved  with  her  beyond  professional  means.  "would  your  buddies  at  the  firehouse  ever  let  you  live  it  down  if  you  did  have  some  fun  with  me?"

the  slight  derail  faded  soon  enough  and  his  expression  returned  back  to  something  more  serious.  his  gaze  scrutinized  her  and  added  tells  to  his  memory  bank.  "maybe  i'm  just  curious  what  a  firefighter  likes  to  do  on  their  day  off,"  riley  shrugged,  "seems  you  can't  leave  an  adrenaline  rush  behind  for  a  day,  huh?"  did  he  mean  the  energy  drinks  or  something  much  more  dangerous  and  illegal?

[divinitis]

closed starter ✧ cash valentine. ( @anarchvsts) location ✧ charming / race tracks.

It was a rare sight to see their side of the track this empty. Where bodies usually swarmed the team's vehicle, and cheers of celebration echoed over to where she watched from afar, Beatriz found that only Cash remained, leaning against the hood of his car. He seemed to be brooding in silence, his body slumped, as if his defeat was a tangible weight on his shoulders. It was somehow more jarring not to see his shock of blond hair peaking over a crowd of adoring fans, his usual harem having been sent away when he'd refused to celebrate despite his loss. Bea walked over to him, leaning gently over the hood and handing him one of the beers she'd brought in consolation. ''He had you by the first turn.'' It probably wasn't what he wanted to hear, but she wasn't one to give comforting falsities. ''Whoever worked on his car did a good job. We couldn't have predicted this, even if you hadn't slowed down on that second half.''

[anarchvsts]

the  thing  was  ...  cash  didn't  lose.  he  couldn't  even  accept  a  strategic  loss,  would  never  agree  to  let  up  on  the  gas  for  those  betting  the  odds.  yet,  here  the  blond  found  himself,  staring  out  into  the  horizon  as  though  it  held  the  answers  while  his  arms  crossed  over  his  chest  as  he  leaned  against  the  demirci  vehicle.

in  his  reverie  cash  nearly  missed  bea's  approach  and  her  words  nearly  incensed  him,  but  the  driver  held  his  composure  and  glanced  over  at  her  offer  with  a  steely  blue  gaze.  "that's  not  when  he  had  me,"  the  blond  countered,  then  shifted  to  angle  toward  her  and  eventually  took  the  beer  off  her  hands.  but  he  didn't  open  it.

"i'd  like  to  know  who  worked  on  this  car,"  he  stated,  the  bottom  of  the  beer  bottle  tapped  against  the  hood.  "he  had  me  when  this  engine  started  falling  apart.  the  dashboard  lit  up  like  a  fucking  christmas  tree."  head  shaking,  almost  in  disbelief,  but  it  was  mostly  due  to  the  offense  she  hurled  at  him.  cash  had  only  slowed  down  because  the  car  had  begun  losing  power,  stuttering  and  choking,  but  he  wasn't  saying  that  part  out  loud  just  yet  because  this  had  inside  job  written  all  over  it.

[wickcdways]

WHERE: The Afterlife WITH: OPEN ( @charmingstart )

“Word of advice?” Hakan began, turning on the barstool just enough to angle himself more towards the patron perched next to him, “Never get married.” Placing his phone facedown on the bartop, he carded a hand through his salt and pepper curls and blew out a long sigh, signaling that whatever text he’d just read from his estranged wife clearly hadn’t been a pleasant one. But then again, the one he’d sent her first hadn’t been either. It was just a vicious cycle that went on and on, though he didn’t harbor any ill will towards her despite that. In fact, if they’d never been married, Hakan suspected the two of them might have been good friends. Sidelining that thought, he turned his attention back towards his newfound company, “What’re you drinking? Next round is on me,” he offered, raising a hand to signal for the bartender, “May your luck be far better than mine.”

[anarchvsts]

"have  you  ever  considered  being  a  better  husband?"  alex  countered  with  a  smirk,  figure  angled  toward  the  too  familiar  attorney.  the  light  danced  in  her  mischievous  eyes  as  her  gaze  wandered  from  the  hand  roaming  through  curls  in  the  same  way  her  own  had  a  few  times  to  the  phone  on  the  bar  in  front  of  him.  the  bar  owner  knew  all  about  digital  sparring  with  a  spouse,  even  if  hers  was  former  rather  than  current,  and  she  was  nosy  about  what  was  driving  hakan  to  drink  right  now.  sometimes  she  wondered  if  her  own  marriage  would  be  more  like  the  attorney's  had  what  happened  never  happened.  were  all  doomed  to  that  type  of  fate  these  days?  her  parents  still  standing  strong  in  union  would  argue,  but  modern  relationships  seemed  to  be  lacking  from  previous  generations.  "oh,  just  some  fancy  bourbon,"  alex  answered,  glancing  down  at  the  last  swallow  in  the  bottom  of  her  glass  before  her  eyes  returned  to  catch  hakan's.  "geez,"  the  brunette  laughed,  "how  bad  is  it?"

[fuckyeahbroski]

AUSTIN BUTLER Training for Men's Health Cover

[sweetfridays]

♡ ADRIA ARJONA elle's thirst trap

[outlawoverture]

✧ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 ⸺  cain guerrero ( @anarchvsts ) 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⸺ cartel warehouse

The  late  afternoon  sun  slanted  through  the  tinted  windows  of  the  warehouse  office,  dust  motes  drifting  lazily  in  the  strip  of  light  that  cut  across  the  polished  concrete  floor.  Eliseo  Montoya  leaned  back  against  the  edge  of  Cain  Guerrero’s  desk,  one  hand  tucked  casually  into  the  pocket  of  his  tailored  slacks,  the  other  lifting  a  small  ceramic  cup  to  his  lips.  The  espresso  was  bitter,  strong  —  exactly  how  he  liked  it  —  much  like  the  man  sitting  behind  the  desk.  Eliseo’s  gaze  skimmed  the  room  with  an  easy  familiarity:  the  neat  stacks  of  paperwork,  the  muted  security  monitors,  the  air  thick  with  power  and  quiet  control.  He  studied  Cain  for  a  moment,  head  tilted  slightly,  eyes  sharp  but  softened  by  the  rare  hint  of  warmth  he  reserved  for  his  boss  —  his  brother  in  everything  but  blood.

“You  look  like  you  haven’t  slept,”  Eliseo  murmured,  his  voice  smooth,  low,  almost  conversational  as  he  set  the  cup  down.  His  dark  hair  was  perfectly  styled,  sleeves  of  his  crisp  white  shirt  rolled  just  enough  to  reveal  the  ink  at  his  forearms.  “SAMCRO  is  moving  more  product  this  month.  Faster  than  usual.”  He  pushed  off  the  desk,  strolling  closer,  boots  echoing  faintly.  “Which  is  good…  and  bad.  Means  they’re  confident  —  or  desperate.”  A  small,  knowing  smile  tugged  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth  as  he  met  Cain’s  unreadable  stare.  “Which  do  you  think  it  is?”

[anarchvsts]

never  could  someone  who  was  like  a  shadow  in  the  night  have  predicted  that  he'd  have  a  desk  some  day.  or  that  he'd  have  to  act  like  a  parent  to  an  organization  of  ruthless  criminals.  but  here  he  was  ⸺  leaned  back  in  an  ergonomic  office  chair  listening  to  his  right  hand,  watching  with  the  pinned  gaze  of  a  predator  while  he  felt  the  sharpness  of  every  atom  in  his  surroundings.

they  were  complete  opposites.  eliseo  dressed  like  a  man  who  wanted  to  be  on  wall  street  while  cain  wore  all  black,  from  his  tshirt  to  his  shoes.  even  his  sweater  and  the  beanie  on  his  desk  were  void  of  color  or  any  particular  style.  as  a  former  hitman  it'd  become  second  nature  to  be  that  figment  in  someone's  periphery  that  no  one  could  genuinely  place  or  remember.  a  ghost.

"good,"  was  his  flat  response.  with  eliseo  he  didn't  have  to  fake  the  inflections  that  made  him  sound  like  someone  who  carried  around  emotions,  to  make  others  more  comfortable.  "they're  feeling  the  pressure  then."  the  sons  of  anarchy  had  become  more  headache  than  their  partnership  had  been  worth  recently,  to  the  point  cain  was  seeing  figures  that  told  him  the  cartel  would  be  better  by  cutting  off  the  rotting  limb.

dark  eyes  tracked  the  movements  of  the  other  man  while  his  expression  remained  placid.  "keep  standing  on  their  necks.  maybe  hector  isn't  as  dumb  as  he  looks  and  he's  understanding  that  they're  about  to  be  chewed  off  if  they  don't  produce  up  to  standards."

[dcmxcles]

open / @charmingstart location: charming streets; late at night

The screech of tyres against the road broke the sound of the wind calling over the desert and as Jake swung from the drivers seat and slammed his door closed he took in the scene before him. "This better be good," called out across the bonnet of the car as he wove a beeline towards them. The shattered glass, another cars broken window, littered the road and what appeared to be the contents of a bag or handbag joined it in the street and though it'd yet to have brought too much of a crowd - there were certainly on lookers. "This your shit?"

[anarchvsts]

like  most  of  the  small  crowd  gathering  to  witness  the  aftermath,  probably  hoping  for  some  dramatic  carnage  so  that  they  could  have  a  little  drama  to  toss  some  excitement  into  their  boring  ass  day,  alex  also  stood  there  letting  her  eyes  sweep  over  everything.  restless  and  pulling  away  from  the  group  to  light  up  a  cigarette,  a  bad  habit  she'd  quit  many  times,  the  spa  owner  stood  off  far  enough  that  it  seemed  like  the  investigator  was  speaking  directly  to  her.  "depends,"  alex  answered  amongst  an  exhale  of  smoke.  "how  much  money  is  in  there?"  the  hand  with  the  burning  cigarette  between  her  fingers  gestured  to  the  bag.

[dcmxcles]

open @charmingstart location: ink and iron tattoo studio

"I'm about to order food, so you can sit here and sulk or eat with me." It's a non-negotiable. After four hours hunched over the back piece, if she didn't get some kind of food into her, the rest of the day was going to be some kind of hellish. For both her, and her client. "And honestly, I'm not giving you too much of a choice. You're looking a little pale." Cracking open a can of soda, she held another out for current company, "You pass out and I'm not responsible for who hears about it. No secrets here." A falsity in and of itself - the studio held many secrets for the club - but, very rarely did any of those in charming come for fresh ink, pass out - and ever live it down. "Come on, get up. Walk around. It'll help."

[anarchvsts]

as  moral  and  emotional  support  for  a  friend  he  sat  in  an  uncomfortable  chair  beside  the  luxurious  looking  dentist's  hot  seat  while  his  blue  eyes  glanced  over  as  she  gave  her  client  a  little  bit  of  hell.  with  a  smirk  on  his  lips  cash  piped  up,  "mind  if  i  get  in  on  that  food  order?  i  might  pass  out  over  here  too  if  i  don't  get  something  to  eat."  not  really,  but  he  was  a  little  bored  and  the  mention  of  takeaway  had  awoken  his  stomach.  when  her  client  worked  their  way  up  and  onto  their  feet  and  began  stumbling  about  like  a  caveman,  he  sympathized.  "it's  hard  to  lay  still  there  with  a  needle  in  your  back.  judging  by  some  of  the  blood  you  might've  been  digging  in  a  little  hard,"  the  blond  wheelman  teased.

[wickcdways]

WHERE: Riders' Rest, after hours WITH: OPEN ( @charmingstart )

Rio could count on one hand the number of days he’d been working at Riders’ Rest. Factor in a second hand and he could count how long he’d been out of prison. Numbers felt so concrete and yet somehow, it was all so relative, considering how quickly he’d been catapulted into closing shifts at the diner. Rio didn’t mind though– the solitude gave him a moment to think, to reflect in ways the busy work day could never afford him. More than that though, the diner gave him something to put on paper– just enough to satisfy his parole officer and keep him on this side of iron bars. Still, it wasn’t enough, but he didn’t linger on that as he poured himself a fresh brewed cup of coffee and settled into one of the vacant booths, a cigarette already poised and ready for lighting. And then– Silence. Just the click of a lighter and the faint crackle at the end of his Marlboro burning to life. Rio inhaled a long, steadying drag, one hand loosely clenched and the other tucked around his cup of coffee. It was then that he heard the light jostling of the bell just inside the entryway of the diner, signaling the arrival of a newcomer even after hours. Who’d forgotten to put the “closed” sign on the door? Oh– right…him. 

“We’re closed,” he mumbled around his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke off to the side before continuing, “Unless you’re here for shit coffee and stale biscuits,” Rio supplied, never bothering to turn and look at who might have joined him. Was it friend or foe? Could he even discern the difference now that so much time had passed? Come what may.

[anarchvsts]

"right  ..."  charli  breathed  out,  just  inside  the  door  that'd  shut  behind  her  entry.  it'd  been  nearly  a  decade  and  a  half  and  her  eyes  couldn't  recognize  the  figure  sitting  there  with  his  back  to  her,  but  the  voice  reverberated  through  her.  memory  made  her  blood  run  cold  yet  her  skin  felt  hot.  her  hands  fisted  at  her  sides  then  released.  suddenly  there  was  too  much  emotion  and  thought  running  through  her  to  be  able  to  function.  so,  the  hacker  stood  there  buffering.

"well,"  the  brunette  gently  cleared  her  throat  as  she  came  to  life  again,  snapping  to,  "i  wasn't  planning  on  staying  ..."  there'd  been  none  of  that,  actually.  a  plan.  this  entire  interaction  happened  strictly  on  impulse  and  maybe  she  was  some  tough  biker  now,  but  her  heart  was  still  hammering  in  her  chest.

"i  guess  i  just  had  to  see  for  myself,"  charli  finally  said,  still  unmoved  from  just  inside  the  door.  nostalgia  flashed  through  her  unsuspecting  stillness  and  the  brunette  attempted  to  will  it  away  ⸺  he'd  been  such  a  staple  in  her  life  and  then  he'd  been  gone.  it'd  been  a  lot  to  wrestle  with,  to  feel  all  alone  in  the  world,  and  to  then  have  to  figure  out  how  to  do  it  all  on  her  own.

"welcome  back,  rio,"  she'd  then  said,  wondering  if  the  rumors  were  true  that  he  was  with  the  cartel  now  as  she  reached  for  the  door.

[landminess-deactivated20260403]

Braden had half the thought to say she should go the front desk for the emergency or what seemed like one as that was the typical protocol. But, he wasn't sure he wanted to defer anymore than he should given how expensive the car she drove up in was. That kind of money meant power. Along with her attire, he figured she had more leverage than not. So he would indulge the urgency. Hues scanned the vehicle as he nodded in agreement. "Well, if it's anything - you came to the right spot." As cheesy as that sounded they could fix anything there. He was about to go to the front but when the trunk popped open, he directed his attention towards the back. And Braden got quite the shock given a body was laid out in that trunk. "I think you have bigger priorities than your car..." To say his eyes were like saucers would be an understatement. Though he backed up, not wanting to get involved in whatever had happened here. "You should call 911. Or I can." Braden quickly voiced out, before his hand started grabbing at his back pocket to reach his cellphone. The car the least of his worries right now.

[anarchvsts]

"oh,  merci,"  lola  practically  exhaled  with  relief,  her  hand  moving  from  her  chest  to  his  arm.  she  loved  hearing  she  was  right.  but  the  immediate  panic  she  had  felt  had  begun  to  dissipate  as  the  feeling  settled  that  someone  would  take  care  of  this  and  fix  it  for  her.  it'd  ben  her  favorite  car  to  drive  lately.  her  heels  sounded  on  the  asphalt  as  she  followed  after  the  mechanic  to  the  trunk  of  her  car,  where  he  found  the  reason  for  the  very  minor  damage  to  the  front  of  her  mercedes.  "no,"  the  frenchwoman's  head  shook,  "there's  some  scratches  on  the  front.  probably  from  the  chain  on  his  jeans?"  lola  pointed  to  the  piece  that  connected  to  a  wallet  stuffed  in  the  back  pocket.  "he  literally  jumped  into  the  crosswalk  when  i  was  trying  to  turn,"  the  drug  dealer  immediately  leapt  to  explain,  panic  rising  again  at  the  mention  of  police,  arm  outstretched  and  gesturing  to  the  man  knocked  out  in  her  trunk.  "some  bitch  said  i  couldn't  just  leave  him  there,"  lola  huffed,  clearly  put  out  by  the  situation,  "i'll  take  him  to  the  doctor  later.  can  you  fix  my  car  though?  i'll  pay  whatever  you  want!"  her  hands  were  pumping  the  metaphorical  brake  to  his  movement  to  pull  his  cellphone  from  his  back  pocket.  "he's,"  the  wave  of  her  hand  at  the  unconscious  was  careless,  "fine.  it's  his  fault!"