Hell-Bound

[knightsmc]

Rosaline hesitated in the doorway, a little surprised he’d held it open for her. It wasn't new, he was always perfectly polite, but it was still...surprising. She murmured a soft “Thanks,” shifting the bags in her arms as she stepped past him, the scent of takeout and fresh produce wafting faintly in her wake.

When he spoke—actually spoke—her brows lifted slightly. It still threw her off when he did that. She didn’t expect it, not because he was rude, but because her neighbor was the type of man who didn’t waste words. Her gaze flicked over his face as he looked up from the mail, then down to the bags cradled against her chest. That offer—quiet, casual, but sincere—made something tighten in her chest in a way she didn’t quite understand.

Most men offered help like it was currency, something they could cash in for your number or your time or a favor later on. But Bryce’s offer wasn’t transactional. It felt like... consideration. Just a simple kindness. She’d forgotten what that felt like. Still, her instinct was to deflect. To say she had it. She always had it.

But she didn’t lie to herself—her arms were burning a little, and the stairs were already laughing at her from the corner of her eye. So instead, she let out a soft breath, then nodded once. “Sure. If you don’t mind.” There was a flicker of a smile—not much, barely there—but something softened behind her eyes. Gratitude, maybe. Or just relief that for once, someone was walking beside her instead of bleeding in her backseat. "Might even be some kung pao chicken in it for you."

[knightsxfhell]

He'd expected some kind of hesitation from her. Maybe because he knew the kind of impression he left with people - at best, one of a man who distinctly didn't like to be bothered. That could make kindness seem like the type of thing that was too foreign to him for any offer of it to be believed. There was a notion felt that if his mother was still here it would have broken her heart that he'd turned out that way. But then if she were still with him everything would be different. Maybe he wouldn't resent the world as much.

But it wasn't just the opinion of him he'd created for her in his mind that had made him expect some kind of deliberation. There'd been a certain level of interest sparked since he'd seen one of the Sons speaking to her, a rare protective spark kindled when what little he knew about her seemed to point to the fact she was too good to be wrapped up in that world. His world. The extra attention paid meant that he'd notice things. Seen the way that she seemed to take things upon herself. Noted the fact that she was always pouring for everyone else but no one ever seemed to fill her up.

Maybe that had made him offer. Not because he thought he was the kind of saviour she deserved ( not a hero at all, really ) but because he thought someone should. And in the seeming absence of anyone else he'd fill the void until someone inevitably better appeared. "I don't." Affirming that he'd meant it, though stopping short of pointing out that he wouldn't have offered if he hadn't, flickering smile returned as he took some of the bags from her arms.

Their spaces merged for a brief moment though he was careful not to intrude anymore than he had to, limbs only briefly brushing as he relieved her of as many bags as he could. "From which spot?" More to make conversation than because the answer would really have any impact. He had long since grown content with silence but he knew that other might not feel as comfortable trudging up several flights of stairs without a word said between them.

[knightsmc]

He loved his sister, he really did.  He’d take a bullet for her.  He’d kill for her.  There was almost no one else he’d say all three things about.  But good God, could that woman talk.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, he did, just not now.  While to others it may have looked like all he was doing was sitting in his office brooding, he wasn’t, instead he was waging a game of mental chess, trying to think through all the plays in the situation they were currently facing.  The Sons of Silence were getting much too loud for AJ’s comfort, and he knew something would need to be done sooner than later, but he wanted to make sure he was 10 steps ahead before making any moves in any direction.  So he was a bit busy.

“Mmm,” he hummed, not able to give much more effort, despite his knowledge that it was a massive pet peeve of his sister’s.  He was listening, just perhaps not as actively as she would have liked, his mind half with her and half in his plans.  “If you’re going to shave it off I think you should go bright green beforehand,” he responded distractedly, thwarting her ‘you’re not listening to me’ tirade before it could get started.  Just because he wasn’t responding didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. “Just so you can say you did it, you know?” his eyes finally met hers, a nonplus smile on his face.

[knightsxfhell]

Eyes rolled almost immediately as he proved, the way he always managed to, that he had actually been listening. Denying her the moment of dramatic triumph that would have been oh so satisfying. But still, she did appreciate that the elder Cooke made so much space for her in his life, gave her his time no matter how superficial it might have seemed compare to whatever else he had to juggle. It meant everything to her even if sibling fuelled annoyance won out more than affection at times. "God, you're annoying." Muttered with a hefty enough dose of annoyance it almost concealed the fondness that would always linger for her brother. "You could just actually look like you're listening. Or - " Brow arched in challenge, wondering if he would bite and actually tell her what was on his mind. " - tell me what's so much more interesting than your little sister. The light of your life."

As much as she knew her brother was aware of her uses, she'd never pushed to be included in club business unless he thought it made sense. The less she knew the better, not because she shrank away from the life but because she knew her mouth could run away from her and despite how flippant she could seem, she would rather die than compromise him in anyway. So she didn't let the challenge weigh heavily, head shaking in disapproval at his suggestion. "And green? Really? With my complexion? Be so for real, AJ." Indignation in her tone as she took another sip of her drink. "Green." A scoff, then more muttering. "Supposed to be the smart one."

[knightsmc]

who: niko + harlow ( @knightsxfhell )

The Avalon Motel had the kind of charm that came from years of surviving rather than thriving. The neon sign flickered, buzzing like it was contemplating whether to give up for good, and the scent of stale coffee and cigarette smoke clung to the air like a second skin. Niko leaned against the counter, easy grin in place, arms folded like he had all the time in the world.

"Didn't peg you for the type to run a joint like this, Harlow," he drawled, letting his voice carry that lazy amusement he'd perfected. "Figured you'd be more… I don’t know, classy. Like silk sheets and overpriced wine, not busted ice machines and guests who pay by the hour."

His eyes lingered on her just a second too long—just enough to sell it, to let her think he was flirting, because maybe he was. Maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy to enjoy her company, to find excuses to be in her orbit. But here he was, toeing the line, telling himself it was all part of the job.

"Thought about me lately?" he asked, tapping his knuckles against the counter. "Or do I gotta cause some trouble to get your attention?"

[knightsxfhell]

There was no denying that being the sister to the president of a known MC came along with its fair share of perks. That feeling of being a big fish in a small pond, the whole city at her fingertips with just a press of a button to dial the elder Cooke. If AJ's reputation wasn't enough then their father's legacy would have been, the Cooke men notorious in a way that meant she'd never had to do all that much in life. Couple the vague threat of the men in her life with a keener mind than she was given credit for and looks that would have made doors open even if she was a nobody, there'd been very little genuine challenge in her life.

The motel was somewhat of a passion project as well as her playing her part in her brother's empire but even it had been handed to her on a silver platter. She wasn't so much dissatisfied with her life as sometimes bored by it, a lack of challenge as well as being surrounded by the same people since birth was the reason she enjoyed chatting to her guests so much when they usually always had a story she hadn't heard. And there was on particular guest that had her particularly interested, even if she was still playing somewhat coy.

Glance was cast at him over her shoulder as she finished filing away paperwork, mischief glinting in blue eyes despite the faux innocence she channelled. "That your way of asking 'what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this'?" She turned then, heading over to the counter she couldn't help but wish wasn't between them. "Same as anyone in this town, surviving. Just you wait one day there'll be silk sheets for everyone." Hand moving in front of her dramatically as if it was her dream, said with the same cadence as someone would talk about wanting their name in lights.

Teeth found her bottom lip for a moment, light hum leaving her as she considered his question. "Briefly but fondly. Special place in my heart for people who pay their bills on time and don't give me a headache." Eyes lingering before something else he said occurred to her. "Man, you telling me someone's messed with the ice machine again?" Pen pulled out to write herself a note to phone the repair guy, tut leaving her. "Just can't get the guests."

[knightsmc]

It felt like a house, not a home, and certainly not his home, despite how much Roxy had done to make him feel welcome in it. He had been warned by brothers and cellies alike, that it'd be like this. After six years in a six by eight, after being told when to sleep and when to eat and exercise and read and every other little micromanagement...He had no clue what to do. He felt like a ghost, haunting their house, standing awkwardly in doorways as he watched Roxy and TJ run through their routines like a well-oiled machine. He was waiting for them to walk through him, like he wasn't there. They never did, but it'd almost be easier if they did, then at least he wouldn't feel so fucking helpless and like something in the way rather than the helping hand he was trying to be.

There was an urge to bury himself in the club, where he knew his place and knew what he could do to help and provide, and leave Roxy and TJ to their routines. But he knew that wasn't an urge he should follow, not if he wanted to keep what had served as a gleaming beacon that got him through his sentence. — So instead, he pushed through the awkwardness, through the discomfort at being so god damn useless.

Even so, he was still in that god damn doorway, lingering, one eye on TJ who was happily sat in front of Saturday morning cartoons, munching on dry cereal, and the other on Roxy. He didn't know how in the fuck he tricked that woman into marrying him, but he thanks God every day that she fell for it.

"Mmmmm" he hummed, a mischievous smile on his lips, purposefully betraying exactly of what he thought about her in that dress. "It'll definitely do—But you're going to make the other mom's jealous." He moved from the doorway to the edge of their bed, within reach of her. His fingers reached out to swish at the edges of her dress, making it swish like she had done only moments before. "Sounds like you might already have something in mind. Let me guess, bowling?"

[knightsxfhell]

Part of the excitement of the two of them had been the unknown, the rush that came from the two of them deciding to be together and face whatever twists and turns life threw their way. Their relationship had been so far from normal she almost didn't know what to do with domesticity when it landed in her lap. But, like with all things, she found a way to be grateful for it. To see it as a gift rather than something to be unnerved by. She'd always embraced life with both hands, enthusiastically, seeing the good in every little thing instead of getting bogged down in the dark that lingered if you let it. So even if having him around still felt novel, she couldn't help but bask in the glow that she felt about the idea of them getting to do the mundane together. Him by her side for all the little, boring things that adult life consisted of. Unrestrained by prison bars any longer and free to truly be part of her and their son's lives.

Grin flashed easily over her features at his words, emotion bubbling up at the fact that he was even there to say them. "The kind of jealousy where they'd just die if they don't get to be my friend, right?" Tone was light but there was hope, maybe in vain, underlying it. She knew that people could judge and probably had already. Heard about Tighe's sentence or her job and decided that they weren't people worth getting to know. Usually she didn't mind it, shaking it off as their loss and refusing to feel badly about the small mindedness of others. But she didn't want her son to have any restrictions. No limits forced onto his life just because some people would view his parents with distaste.

The anxiety was quickly shook off, too intent on enjoying a little moment of levity with him to stay stuck in more worrisome thoughts. Gasp left her as though she was surprised that he'd managed to guess. Even if it was intentionally wrong, she couldn't help but think that there'd be far worse ways to spend the afternoon than enjoying a bowling date with him. "Always did know how to read my mind, I'm just itching for a strike." Laughter filling the space between them when it was never far from her lips, always quick to find the joy in whatever she could.

Gaze flickering towards the door just to make sure TJ wasn't about to insert himself into their conversation, half step closer to her husband taken once she'd established that the coast was clear. "And then after -" Eyes flickered down to his lips purposefully before they met his gaze once more, dark orbs doing little to conceal her desire for him. For closeness between them. "- you can help me out of this?" She posed it lightly, not wanting him to feel as though he had to just because it was what she wanted.

[knightsmc]

Nellie stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Better husband. Christ.

She stood, slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world to deal with this particular brand of bullshit. “You want your life back?” she echoed, dragging the words out like they tasted bad. “Well, shit, Cole. Why didn’t you say so sooner? We could’ve had balloons, maybe a cake. ‘Welcome home, sorry about all the bad blood.’”

She circled the desk, heels sharp against the floor, her stare pinning him in place. “You don’t get to waltz in here after a year off playing Lone Ranger and act like this is some dramatic reunion special. You fucked up. You left. And I didn’t get the luxury of checking out while I decided how guilty I felt.”

Her finger jabbed his chest, hard enough to make a point. “I had to look Svara in the face. I had to hear club business whispered like maybe I was the next to fall. You think you felt lost? Try being the one holding the whole damn bag and still expected to smile pretty while the world caught fire.”

She stepped back, arms crossed now, chin tilted just enough to look defiant instead of tired. “So yeah, I bet you do miss your life. It was a good one—had a job, a patch, and a wife who loved you stupid. But things change, Cole.” And then, softer, more bitter than broken: “You left a mess, and now you’re back with a mop and a damn prayer like that’s gonna fix it.”

She let the silence stretch, eyes fixed on his like she dared him to flinch. Then, with a shrug that was all bravado and none of the ease, she added “Well? You said you wanted to be better. Show me something.”

[knightsxfhell]

There it was. That fire of hers that he'd missed so much. His days returning to cold and bleak without the passion she moved through life with to light him up. As the heat of her fury scorched him, he basked in the flames, welcoming them when being met with indifference would have been far worse. He knew who he'd married, had proposed because of her ways not in spite of them.

Finger jabbed at his chest and he didn't flinch, almost smirked though the expression was stifled when he doubted it would be productive at that moment in time. There'd be plenty of time for him to revel in all her glory after he'd convinced her to take him back. A certainty in his thoughts only because he didn't want to even begin imagining a world where the fractures his absence had created couldn't be patched up.

He waited for her to finish, knowing she wasn't about to run out of steam and there was no point in trying to talk over her. Nor did he ever want to, words even more precious now than they ever were after months of only hearing them through a phone. Silence stretched between them as he closed the distance that her retreat had left. Usually the move was instinctive, never wanting to be far from her, but this time it was purposeful. Steps slow and deliberate as if that would show her that he intended to stay.

"You think I wanted to leave?" Words low and to anyone else they might have sounded menacing, they probably would have been, devoid of the emotion that was only reserved for his wife. "My club, my life." Firmly in her space now, making it theirs as head dipped even closer, making sure she couldn't miss the passion that was burning in his eyes for once. Only for her. "You?" Saving the most devastating part of it all for last. But he needed to know that she knew he wouldn't have made that choice unless it was necessary.

"Let me make this right, Nels." Low tone containing a vow within them, what he would do whatever it took to salve and stitch the wounds that he'd left. "I know it's not gonna happen overnight and I don't expect it too. Hell, you wouldn't be the woman I'd married if you just rolled out the welcome wagon. You want me on my knees, I'll get on my fucking knees."

Fingertips coasted down the side of her arms, claiming her hands in his rough ones, head dipping lower so his forehead could rest against hers. "Let me come home." Because it was up to her but he felt like if he could just get that to happen, the rest would fall into place.

[knightsmc]

Her voice was sharp now—cutting, clear, rising like a blade honed on nothing but fear and fury. He wasn’t expecting it. The way her words came out in that whisper-shout, like she was daring him to pull the trigger. Like she'd rather die than let the silence settle over what had happened to her. And the things she said—His grip loosened slightly.Not much. Not enough to let her go. But enough. Promised a better life... led into a room full of men... used as their plaything...That last one hit like a fist to the gut.

No one in the Knights would’ve ever greenlit that. No way in hell. Flesh trade was a hard fuckin’ line in the sand—the kind of line you bled over if you crossed it. And he'd bled a few who had, in the past. He’d seen what that kind of hell did to people. So then why the fuck had they sent him to silence her?

His jaw clenched, muscle twitching. The muzzle of the gun hovered just beneath her chin, still there—but it wasn’t pressing in anymore. He was looking at her now. Really looking. The fear in her hadn’t vanished, but there was heat behind it. Steel. Not the kind of fear that came from guilt, but the kind that came from surviving something you shouldn’t have. The kind that didn’t lie. Victims. Villains. She didn’t look like someone making up a story to save her own skin. Didn’t sound like it either.

Which meant someone had lied.

Shannon’s breath came in through his nose, slow and sharp, dragging over the back of his teeth like he needed to keep it from becoming a growl. This wasn’t a mistake you could walk back with an apology and a bouquet of fuckin’ flowers. Someone had tried to use him. Set him up as the reaper for a girl who’d already been dragged through hell. His gaze dropped for just a second, toward her bag under the bed. The one she’d offered him like some desperate out, like he was the worst she’d have to deal with that night. That sat wrong. Real wrong. The barrel of the gun dropped an inch. Still in his hand. Still between them. But it was no longer aimed at her.

He didn’t speak right away. He just looked at her—watching her face, watching the way she held herself, as if she'd dared herself to survive just one more moment. He could almost hear the voice of the brother who’d once told him: You can tell the truth by how it clings to a person. Doesn’t need proof. It shows in the shaking and the staying both. She was still here. That counted for something.

Finally, his voice came low. Gravel-slick and quiet. Almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard. “…who told you to meet them?” He didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t need to—not now. He already knew it was worse than what he’d been told, even if nothing more than what she had said happened. Worse than anyone should've let happen on club turf.

And someone was going to pay for that.

[knightsxfhell]

Panic still lingered even as she felt something of a shift from her words. He was thinking, her eyes watching his features almost desperately for a flicker of anything that might help her get through the night still breathing. His grip on her wrist remained, looser but still too present. She wondered if he could feel her pulse thundering away, adrenaline coursing through her as she fought against her fight or flight instinct to get her emotions under control. Neither were truly an option for her, not with the gun or the way he was literally holding her prisoner.

But then the gun moved away, just a fraction but enough that she felt like she could actually breath again, shaky exhale escaping her almost proving that. There was still threat lingering behind his tone but now she sensed it wasn't directed at her. Anger too, if she was reading a stranger correctly, and she wasn't certain if her earlier words hadn't touched a nerve. There'd been no tact in them, only an indignant fury that it was her bearing the repercussions when she had done nothing wrong.

She almost didn't hear him, voice so low she wasn't sure she'd just imagined it. Voice was thick when she finally responded, a correction to what he'd asked. "Nobody told me." Even if her grasp of the language was still clumsy at times she knew that to be a fact in whatever language she spoke it in. She hadn't been instructed as much as ambushed, coerced into complying, but there was a lingering feeling that she could have - should have - said no. Instead she hadn't said anything, going along with it because she hadn't known what else to do.

The righteous anger that had been fuelling her impassioned speech had left her as she spiralled for what felt like the hundredth time into that toxic cycle of blaming herself for not putting up any kind of fight, leaving her feeling flat and hollow once more. "I -" Lips parted then pressed together almost immediately, suddenly unsure of herself when the last thing she had been expecting was for the man with the gun pointed at her to care. Even if it was only in the capacity that he seemed to have been mislead.

Teeth sank into her lips, the sting of the contact used to pull herself back into the present before she lost herself in what ifs. She didn't know what to say but he had asked for a name, she could start there. The tears that pricked at her eyes weren't because of the man in front of her, the fear she felt towards him quickly replaced by the ache of betrayal that was still fresh. Her heart could only hold so much emotion and the pain that came with having to confess that it was the person she'd trusted the most who had put her in that situation, more than once, overwhelmed everything else. "Tevfik Olgun."

While she didn't know where to even begin talking about what had happened ( part of her worried that the man before her would echo her own thoughts that it was her own doing ) she thought some explanation of her connection to him might make things clearer. "He was my - " Everything. He'd made himself her world, the only person she had any real contact with. But even if she had been fluent in the language she wouldn't have known how to sum it up. "- we were together. Had been since before we came here."

Eyes left the gun-wielder's face then, the defiance she'd shown only moments earlier making way for something closer to defeat. Thoughts turned over in her mind, wondering if she dared to ask something that would undoubtedly put the final nail in the coffin that their dead relationship had been laid in. "Is he -" Resolve wavered but she summoned strength from somewhere, finding not for the first time that week that she had more than she had ever given herself credit for. Gaze flickered back up to the stranger, trying to convince herself she wasn't afraid of his answer. "Was he the one who told you about me?"

[knightsmc]

She almost didn’t come.

When the call came through—teacher sounding polite as you please, asking if she could 'pop in for a quick chat' about Aoife—Eilis had rolled her eyes so hard it gave her a headache. She wasn’t daft. She knew exactly what that meant. A chat, her arse. It was never a chat. It was you’re doing something wrong, your kid’s a handful, maybe if there was more structure at home. Like she didn’t already know the way Aoife was hurting. Like they weren’t both barely keeping it together.

She’d dressed like she gave a damn, anyway. Tight jeans, tank top under a leather jacket that smelled faintly of cigarettes and baby wipes. Acrylics freshly done because Niamh had finally slept long enough for her to get to her cousin’s place. Lipliner darker than her lipstick, hoops big enough to fit a soda can through. Let them look. Let them judge.

When the door opened and he smiled at her like they were old mates, something in her gut twisted. Too warm. Too easy. Too kind. It made her suspicious right away.

'Thanks so much for coming in' he said, holding the door open like a gentleman in one of those romance films her ma used to watch. He looked barely old enough to be out of school himself—young, tan skin, big brown eyes that probably got him out of all kinds of trouble.

“Yeah,” she said, stepping in. “Not like I had anything else to do.”

She didn’t take his hand right away. Just stared at it like it might bite, then gave it a quick shake—firm, not rude, but not friendly either. She nodded slowly at his introduction, taking the seat he pointed to. Perched at the edge, arms folded tight under her chest like she was holding herself back from bolting.

“I know who y’are,” she said. “Aoife talks about you. Says you smile too much.” That wasn’t meant to be an insult, but it came out sharper than she’d intended. Eilis wasn’t good at softening things. “Right. Lemme guess.” She leaned back, one brow arching high. “She mouthed off again. Didn’t follow directions. Probably got bored, did somethin’ she shouldn’t’ve. She’s not exactly subtle.” There was a flicker of something in her eyes then—guilt, maybe, or pride. It was hard to tell.

“Look, if yer gonna tell me she’s disruptive, go ahead and say it. Don’t need to sugar-coat it like I’m made of glass. I know my kid. I made her.” She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and looked away for a second, just long enough to collect herself. When she turned back, her jaw was set. “She’s angry. Her da died, and no one explained it in a way that made any fuckin’ sense. Least of all me. And now she’s stuck in a classroom bein’ told to do sums and write essays like none of it matters.”

Her voice cracked just slightly, and she hated that. Hated it enough that the next words came out colder. “So unless you’ve called me in to tell me you’re a grief counselor or a fuckin’ magician, let’s skip the dance. What d’you want me to do, Mr. Persaud?”

[knightsxfhell]

As she spoke the way that a few of his colleagues had wished him 'good luck' with a blunt tone after telling them he'd asked to see Aoife's mother began to make more sense. Except he didn't take offense at the way she was immediately on the counter attack when he hadn't so much as raised his weapons. He just saw a woman trying to do her best for her daughter and was likely tired of being dragged in to be berated.

That wasn't why he had called her in and he was quick to make that clear. There was some relief as she moved towards the two chairs he'd set up on the same side of his desk. Not wanting it to feel like he was a principal telling her off. "I was hoping this could be a discussion rather than me lecturing you about your daughter." In his experience it rarely worked. The best way to help a child was to have the parent onside and making them feel like they were somehow failing wasn't going to come close to achieving that.

Smile had flickered over his lips at her asserting that she knew who he was. "Oh." The word almost said out of confusion, wondering whether it had somehow become a negative to be seen as someone who smiled. He supposed it might have made him seem like he didn't take things seriously enough but then decided that there were worse things to be known as than someone warm or friendly.

But then she kept talking and he listened. Not pity in his gaze but sympathy when grief was hardly an easy thing to deal with. Only when he was certain she'd said all that she'd wanted to, words that already helped him get a bigger picture, did he respond. "I am sorry for your loss." The sincerity of the words were clear as he let them hang between them for a few moments, not wanting to seem as though he was ignoring her pain out of keenness to try to set things right. He wanted to help but charging in and trampling over her dignity wasn't the way forward.

"Has no one here talked to you about the resources we have on offer?" Brow furrowed, that confusion back again, but this time not at her and instead the notion that a grieving family could have been overlooked. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that the system was flawless but it could work, the idea that the full extent of what it could do to help for this family not being explored was one that didn't sit well with him.

"I'm, unfortunately, not a grief counsellor but we do have access to one through a scheme - if it was something you think would help I could get that process started for you. Or if you would prefer whole family sessions -" Because all of them had been affected by the loss. "- I have the number of a great therapist who owes me a favour. Could get you in as soon as possible." Not really a handout, more just a bump up the queue.

The offers made he didn't push it, already sensing that the woman in front of him was used to doing things for herself. "So, Aoife." Throat cleared slightly. "She is disruptive but I don't believe it's out of badness." There was no point in denying that but he was quick to follow up with what he thought was the true explanation. "I think that Aoife is gifted." The words hovered for a moment before he continued. "The work is too easy for her so she gets bored, it's not unusual for children with higher intellect to act that way."

"I wanted your input on how best to proceed with that." Reiterating once again that he wasn't about to tell her how best to help her own daughter. He intended for them to work together. "I could give her extra work in class but I'm hesitant to do something that might make her feel 'other' from her classmates at a time when she is likely already feeling that way."

[knightsmc]

The tinny bass of the bar’s speakers blared as Guillermo’s dark eyes darted back and forth, cutting the large crowd into swaths, pinpointing members of the MC in each one, making sure they were all behaving. They might not have been on their bikes or the road, but G believed his duties as road captain continued even after tires left black asphalt, and he wanted to know where each of them were at all times.— A beer sat sweating in his hand, a small ring of water on the bartop giving away just how long he had been nursing it, when he spotted her. Ayda’s sister. He added her into his sweeps of the bar. Ayda might not be an old lady or a hang around, but she had started to mean something to many of the boys, and so by extension, G’s protection would include her sister.

But as he locked eyes with her he realized there was something of a chicken-or-the-egg situation taking place. Was she looking at him because she had clocked the weight of his protective gaze? Or had she already been looking? He couldn’t be sure. But he was fairly sure he hadn’t seen her here before, and maybe it was bold to assume, but he didn’t think it was much of her scene at all. At all the parties at the clubhouse that Ayda had attended, she hadn’t attended one, which he considered odd with how Ayda spoke about her sister, like they were often glued at the hip. So from that, he assumed she didn’t much approve of The Life. Dar por hecho, his mother would warn him, if she were here. 

And she’d be proven right, as he watched with curious eyes as—after what he could only call an intermittent stare-down—she stalked off. Even someone like Guillermo could sense her intentions. He followed, wondering if he was a cat about to be killed. The sudden quiet as he exited the bar was like a salve; his muscles loosened, shoulders dropped, brain stopped feeling as if it were on fire. But it still took him a moment to adjust, remember what he came out here for.

Her words were bold and he got the sense that was par for the course for the eldest Turhan sister. 

“That’s not my bike.” he said in response, arms folded, brow cocked and pushing his luck, knowing the response probably wouldn’t be welcome with what had just been offered.  But if he was going to take her home, she’d need to get on the right bike.

[knightsxfhell]

Recklessness wasn't an inherited trait - her parents hardworking and cautious, her cousin serious and dedicated, her sister sweet and well meaning - but it had been a learned one. Falling into a crowd of friends who loved to push boundaries, chasing the adrenaline rush wherever they could get it. It was why she'd been drawn to the jobs that she had been, not just because of the ease of getting them simply because of the way she looked, but because not much made her feel the way that the cheers of a crowd did. But she was feeling that spike now, had been since the idea of the two of them had appeared in her mind and now she was fixated on it. Unable to decide whether it was just the man himself who had her attention or it was the way she was almost rebelling against herself by pursuing him.

Eyes had glinted with possibility and a little bit of satisfaction when he'd saw him emerge, pleased she still had it. But she'd expected a more enthusiastic response than what he met her with. If cheeks hadn't already been slightly flushed from alcohol they might have coloured with something close to shame when he finally responded. A lack lustre response that was so far from what she had expected it almost made her reconsider as pride bristled under the comment. But luckily ( or unluckily ) for him her whisky fuelled desire easily won out over the brief smart of embarrassment that his words had caused. Far too set on the idea of making him her thrill for the night to consider changing her plans now.

Hands dropped from the handles, eyes fixed on him as though she was still considering whether or not he'd ruined whatever moment she'd been trying to create. Waiting a few heartbeats to build some kind of suspense. Long leg swung languidly over the bike so she could get off it, knowing that she looked good doing it. She'd had plenty of practise moving her body in the most eye catching ways at work. Unhurried steps closed the distance between them, undeniable sway in her hips as she walked, chin tilting upwards as she posed a challenge with brow arching. "You always talk your way out of a good thing?" Some would have called it vanity to refer to herself in such a way with such certainty but Ferah had always possessed an unerring confidence. Whether it was earned or not hardly mattered, she wasn't about to let his aloofness reflect on how she viewed herself.

Head tilted then, a break in whatever tension she'd managed to pull between them, the smile that flickered across her lip much more playful. One that seemed to promise nothing but a good time. "Wanna show me which one is yours then, tough guy?" There was his out, if he wanted it.

[knightsmc]

Natalia Garcia Morales was a woman who got what she wanted. It was not if, but when. Before she had been taken in by the Aguilars, she got the things she wanted by her own cunning and force. After, simply by asking for it, brown eyes wide, lashes fluttering. As an adult, it was often a mix of the two.

She was sorting through racks of clothes, choosing what would stay and what would go, when she saw her newest want through the plate glass windows. The boutique wasn't set to close for another hour, but she wasn't about to let that stop her. In something of a rush, Natalia stopped what she was doing, flicked off the lights, and grabbed her belongings before hurrying out the door. But as soon as her heeled feet crossed the threshold, her actions slowed, became almost languid, as if she had all the time in the world.

Purse in the crook of her elbow, keys jangling in one hand, phone in the other as she headed down the sidewalk, head down as if she hadn't noticed anyone or anything else, as if she hadn't closed her business an entire hour early. A faux look of surprise dawned on her face as she looked up at the muttered curse rang out in the space between the two.

The doe look didn't last for long, though, as she cocked her head to the side at Eleni, before closing the distance. Her finger tips tantalizingly picking up wetness from her mouth, before they plucked at the fabric of the other woman's body, trying to smudge the ink she was obviously swearing at, away.

"Mmmm, you're a messy one, aren't you, Vlachos?"

[knightsxfhell]

Too late she was realising that the only reason she'd managed to stay as enigmatic and nonchalant throughout the years was because she hadn't cared enough. It was easy to maintain an air of someone easy going when the stakes were never that high. When she rarely got invested enough for the thoughts or actions of others to have any real impact on her.

But she cared now, almost obsessively. The pull she felt towards Natalia feeling all encompassing. The outcome of her day suddenly hinging on whether she felt as though she had the other woman's approval whenever they did run into one another. She knew already that she'd agonise over this interaction, likely kicking herself for whatever awkward or embarrassing words would leave her lips. All traces of restraint leaving her when she was so eager to impress her.

Eyes were usually glued to her whenever they spoke, not wanting to miss anything, but they had been unable to do anything but linger as she'd watched, almost helplessly, as Natalia had brought fingers up to her lips. But then she blinked, reaching for some semblance of cool as though the image wasn't seared into her memory and likely to be replayed over and over.

"Occupational hazard." Lithe shoulders rolling into a shrug as though it was all part of a day's work to fight with her ink. "Thanks for saving me from myself. Sometimes I just get so in the zone I don't notice until it's too late." Wondering if the whole creative genius or tortured artist route would be the way to solidify herself in Natalia's good graces.

[knightsmc]

@knightsxfhell (cadie + cesar)

The event was insufferable. A ballroom filled with politicians, business moguls, and society wives dripping in money and pretense, all swirling their glasses of overpriced champagne while pretending their hands were clean. Cadie knew better. Hell, so did Cesar. That was half the fun of it.

She stood near the bar, one hand wrapped around the delicate stem of a flute, the other tracing the rim absentmindedly as her eyes found him across the room. Her husband looked every bit the polished politician—tailored suit, confident stance, that ever-present mask of charm he wielded like a weapon. But she knew him. Knew the man beneath it all, the one who played the same long game she did.

Cesar was deep in conversation with some real estate developer Cadie didn’t bother to remember the name of, but even from a distance, she caught the slight shift in his demeanor when he felt her eyes on him. A barely-there smirk, a subtle roll of his shoulders like he was shaking off the distraction she’d just become.

She waited, let the moment stretch, then took a slow sip of her champagne, lips deliberately wrapping around the glass before she set it down and moved. The hem of her dress flirted against her thighs as she closed the distance between them, slipping seamlessly into the conversation at Cesar’s side, one manicured hand resting lightly on his arm.

“Mr. Aguilar,” she purred, eyes locked on his with the same challenge they’d traded for years. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” The real estate mogul chuckled, oblivious to the undercurrent crackling between husband and wife, but Cadie didn’t spare him a glance. Her attention was elsewhere, waiting, watching. Because the game had never stopped. And she was always ready to play.

[knightsxfhell]

Laser focus had always been something he was proud to possess. Eyes always remaining firmly fixed on the future and what he wanted to achieve, prepared to do whatever it took to ensure his plans fell into place. Of course, coming from money had no doubt helped. Given him the kind of credibility that only came with a surname that carried a legacy. But he liked to think he'd made the most of it.

A man that knew what he wanted, it hadn't changed when he'd met the woman he now was fortunate enough to call his wife. Her surname had carried a different weight, ties to a world that had until then been outside of his grasps. But he'd grasped onto her, pulling her into his life despite knowing her intentions had been far from pure at the start.

Now they were partners, building an empire together despite the little games they still liked to play with one another. It would hardly be them if they'd become static and stale, their vows might as well have included a line about promising to keep one another on their toes. Without her by his side his mind did have a tendency to wander - to her - that usual unshakeable focus bending the same way everything else did when it came to her.

Smirk had flickered almost imperceptibly across his lips but he knew she would catch it and sure enough, she was gliding to his side and a smile that he couldn't have helped even if he'd wanted to was gracing his lips. "You could never interrupt, darling." Smooth and easy when he had no intention of pretending to be one of those men who viewed their wives as shackles at worst or an inconvenience at best.

Arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to his side. Where she belonged. "Mr Wells here was just telling me about some grand plans for a new development." A quick loop in when she'd never required anything more to get up to speed. "Though he's not set on the location yet." Words light despite knowing that they both knew of locations that would be advantageous to them and the MC.

[knightsmc]

Accidents like his took a lot from people.  Sometimes it took things like a limb, their ability to walk and talk, or even their lives. For him it took something much more ephemeral, which made it feel endlessly stupid that it was affecting him that much.  Sure, he had needed to re-learn to walk and talk, but here he was, walking and talking (not always well, but that wasn’t the point).  So why did it still feel like he was mourning something?  Why was he feeling phantom pains when all limbs were accounted for?  It only took him walking past a storefront window, or catching a glimpse of himself in the black screen of the TV once turning it off, for him to remember.  His accident took away his identity and the parts of himself he found worthy, of respect, of admiration, of love.  His nickname of ‘pretty boy’ felt more like a taunt now.  Where once he used to walk in public, head held high, knowing the reaction he could sometimes cause.  Now, he wore a hood, chin tucked to his chest.  For a while he was able to convince himself he was just being self-centered, no one cared that much, and everyone was busy paying attention to their own lives to mind his disfigurement.  But then a curious child or someone caught off guard enough that they couldn’t immediately school their face would remind him exactly of what he had lost.

Never before in his life had he understood or experienced anxiety on any real level, but now it hunted him like a dog, prowling after him as he stalked up and down the aisles of the grocery store.  So desperate to find what he needed and get the fuck out that he kept missing what he was looking for. — For the past year, he had taken to getting his groceries delivered.  But he was getting sick and tired of this shit, and was determined to beat the anxiety down, bare knuckle boxing style, if he had to.  Perhaps he should have taken baby steps, but that had never been and would never be, Willy’s style.  He had enough baby steps when he was re-learning to walk.  Now, he wanted to take bounding, leaping strides back home, back to her.

And as if thinking of her conjured her, she was suddenly there, in the aisle.  But he wasn’t ready, not yet.  A panic rose in his chest, and he saw no other option than tucking tail and running out, but knew going past her was the only way through.  With jolting steps and an awkward gait he tried to slip past her, but his rushed behavior only made his actions clumsy rather than smooth and quick, and he found himself veering towards her rather than away.

He was caught.  And while he rationally knew she had seen him at his literal worst, something about the fact that he was healed up and still looked hideous made him feel all the more vulnerable.  At least before they both could have pretended there was a chance of him looking better, when everything was still so fresh.  But this?  This wasn’t ever getting any better.  This was as good as it got.

His tongue remained tied, the influx of adrenaline doing nothing to help him remember the techniques he had been learning in speech therapy.

[knightsxfhell]

Breath caught slightly as recognition dawned, the sound barely audible but for all she'd done her best to let logic and pragmatism win out when it came to the thought of him her heart seemed to have missed the memo. The way it still clenched at the sight of him as though her love for him was too much to bear. Feeling as though it was only yesterday that he'd come into her life. It had been a relief at the time, the realisation that there really was someone out there who had wanted to help her carry the heavy stuff rather than run from the responsibility that she knew life with her had promised. But he hadn't ran nor had he shied away from the idea of being a father to a boy that wasn't his, an act that had only made the tenderness she had held for him grow all the larger. Now she realised that holding that much love for someone as well as opening yourself up to such depth of feelings was just a recipe for devastation.

For a moment she just looked at him, almost expectantly as she wondered if he would continue the conversation she'd half started. Follow the usual pattern such interactions usually demanded - where they had a polite debate about who should go first before laughing it off and going about their days. But there was nothing usual about their interactions now. Not when there had been a time when talking to him had been as easy as breathing. Wanting nothing more than to share her every thought and feeling with him, finally feeling as though she had someone so firmly in her corner she didn't need to hold things back the way that she'd taught herself to. But now words lodged in her throat, unsure what she could possibly say that could bridge the gulf that two years had carved out between them.

Silence dragged out between them and she realised he had laid the burden of the conversation at her feet. The responsibility falling to her to somehow salvage this encounter, by some miracle take it from painful to just uncomfortable. Soft smile flickered over her lips as though that would ease anything between them. That maybe what was usually an expression of joy could mask the sorrow in her eyes. "Will." His name almost sounding foreign on her tongue from lack of use but not lacking any of the tenderness she usually imbued it with. Even if they weren't together he had cemented himself into her life. As the father of her daughter he deserved the reverence she reserved for family if nothing else.

Gaze moved away in the hope that if her eyes weren't on him she might be able to think straight enough to summon up a topic that wasn't completely hopeless. As she glanced back towards the freezer cabinet she found something that could at least spark a brief exchange. "Mateo's taken a notion that he can only eat foods that are beige." Words slightly dry when she couldn't help but be offended given how much she'd tried to cook a variety for them all. "Just debating which of these will appease his apparent new palate best."

[knightsmc]

who: blue + marcos ( @knightsxfhell )

Blue had spent the past few weeks keeping her head down, avoiding familiar streets, and pretending that Reno was just another city—a place she could slip through unnoticed. It was a lie, of course. Reno wasn’t the kind of place that let you disappear, not when you had history woven into its streets.

She was at a gas station off Fourth, fingers wrapped around a bottle of water, waiting for the cashier to ring her up. Just another errand. Just another place she could be in and out of without trouble. Until she heard it.

Blue?

Her nickname hit her like a hard stop. It wasn’t a question—it was recognition, certainty wrapped in disbelief. And it came from a voice she knew too well. Her spine stiffened before she turned. She already knew who it was.

Marcos stood a few feet away, holding a pack of smokes and a gas station coffee, looking at her like she was a ghost. And maybe she was. She had left him behind, left this whole life behind, but now here she was, standing right in front of him like none of it had ever happened.For a second, all she could do was stare, cataloging the differences. He was older, broader, the weight of years and the MC settling into the lines of his face. But his eyes? Those hadn’t changed.

She swallowed, forcing herself to find her voice. “Hey, Marcos.” It felt like the biggest understatement in the world.

[knightsxfhell]

Instinct had been to dismiss it, brush it off as his mind playing tricks on him the way it had for months after she'd left. How the image of her had haunted the streets they'd grown up on as much as his thoughts, seeing the ghost of her flickering in his peripherals no matter where he looked. No solace from the never ending reminders that she wasn't there anymore.

Except this time she was all the more corporeal, solid enough that her name had dropped from his lips without thought. Still calling out to her despite how many of his calls and texts had gone unanswered when she'd bolted from town like they'd always talked about. Only he'd seen it as more of a dream but she'd made it her reality without even a glance in his direction.

At the time there'd been nothing but pain, an open wound that only she could have stitched up for him. But in her absence he'd had to heal it himself, watching it calcify and harden into a nasty, jagged scar as he embraced fury and rage instead of sadness. They were much more productive emotions than wallowing in the depressing darkness that had tugged at him without her light.

"Hey?" Word was spat back almost mockingly, sneer curling onto his lips as he gave into anger rather than pain. "When the fuck did you get back?" There was too much unsaid between them and there was a temptation to let it all out, come barbed comment about how he wasn't surprised she hadn't told him. She'd stopped telling him things years ago.

[knightsmc]

who: romy kapovich + teddy calahan ( @knightsxfhell )

She knew it was all in her head, but she could swear, even the air smelled sweeter. Which is ironic, because no one was about to give Reno an award on air quality. But it was home. It was safe. It was filled with the people she loved, and right now, that's all she needed. She was healed (physically and mostly mentally) and ready to resume her life before that asshole had come and ran her off course.

She had been back for a couple weeks, but a sense of homesickness still struck her sometimes. Maybe it's because she didn't really have a home anymore (her little brother's couch didn't really constitute home to her, even if he did). Other than the club. Maybe that's why she was constantly coming up with excuses to visit. She knew no one would question her reasons for visiting, even if Max wasn't a prospect. She was a legacy, a childhood friend of the Pres and VP, she would always be welcome. But the idea of being seen as a hang around, especially to those who knew exactly the reason behind her return made her feel like sick, like some poor woman who couldn't handle her shit and had nothing better to do. But as she waited for confirmation from he lawyer that divorce papers had been served, hanging out around the people she grew up with, who she knew would help her in any situation (like she would them), eased that small kernel of fear that she harbored in her chest like a fugitive.

Today's excuse of the day was low air pressure in her back tire. The shop was just across the street from the club, so she figured she could just swing by afterwards. But as she came upon an empty front of the shop, she couldn't help herself,

"What's a girl gotta do to get some service around here?" she called out, her voice echoing hopefully to the back of the shop where someone could hear her.

[knightsxfhell]

Head had been buried in the engine of an almost ancient Buick he was doing his best to breathe new life into when a familiar voice met his ears. "Depends who's asking." Was called out from under the hood before he extracted himself, grease wiped on his overalls as he moved through the shop towards her siren call. Arms crossed over his broad chest, as though he was considering what his terms were about to be despite the fact that he'd never been able to deny her anything. But fondness was quick to win out, his characteristically restrained smile tugging that little bit wider for her than it would for anyone else. "Seeing as it's family, you don't even gotta ask." All too easy to explain away any special treatment of her due to her ties to the club, Kapovich carrying just as much weight as Calahan and Cooke.

There was still a shroud of mystery around Romy's marriage ( well, divorce now ) but he'd never been one to pry, knowing that if someone wanted to tell him something they knew that they could. His reputation for being solid, silent and dependable making him almost the perfect confidante. But she hadn't shared anything with him yet past her plea for help and so he'd relied on fragments he'd gleaned. It hadn't been good but that was obvious enough, he figured the wounds were just too painful to risk re-opening for her.

Her presence in town still seemed tentative, him wondering if the threads that bound them had become too tenuous over her years away for her to still feel at home in the only place he'd ever known. But he, privately, thought that it would be all the better for her to stick around. What better place to put yourself back together than with people who cared around you? So he wasn't about to push or press her for more details. The less he knew the better when it was only by her request that her ex-husband was even still breathing and that cold fury had only been borne from the knowledge that there was a problem she needed help with, not any specific.

Hand ran over the side of the car, sizing it up and noting the changes he thought might need to be made to make it safe enough to carry her wherever she needed to go. Gaze flickered back up to her, figuring that it'd be quicker just to ask. "What's the problem?"

[knightsmc]

AJ studied her. Hands up, eyes flicking to the gun. There was a sharpness to her—still—and that was saying something, considering the mess she’d just walked into. Most people in her position would be crying, begging, pissing themselves. Francesca Leone just looked... pissed. And tired. And maybe a little scared, though she was doing a hell of a job burying it under that mouth of hers.

He didn’t lower the weapon, but he didn’t fire either. Not yet. Instead, he took one slow step closer. His boots scraped the concrete floor, the sound echoing between them in the silence that followed her question. Her voice had bite, like it was wired with the last bits of defiance she had left. That was the problem with smart people—they didn’t always know when to shut the fuck up.

AJ tilted his head, just slightly. "You always talk this much when you're standing over a fresh corpse?" He let the question hang there, heavy. The tension felt like a live wire pulled taut between them. Another beat passed, and finally, he lowered the gun. Not all the way—just enough to show he was thinking about it. Weighing options like weights on a scale.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. He hadn’t even realized she was in the building—just some cleaner, hired to scrub the floors of a warehouse he’d borrowed for a meeting he already knew would end in blood. A fluke. An oversight. And now it was his problem to fix. She was a liability. No way around it. A former ADA who once tried to bring down the club, now standing in the aftermath of a murder—his murder. That was the kind of risk that normally earned someone a bullet and a shallow grave.

But she’d lost her badge trying to nail them. Lost everything. And now she was cleaning floors for a paycheck. Desperate. Sharp. Dangerous in a very specific kind of way. He could kill her. Wouldn’t lose sleep over it. But there was another option clawing at the back of his mind, whispering. Use her. “I don’t like loose ends, Leone,” he said finally, voice low and calm, like they were discussing business and not her potential execution. “You being here? Seeing what you just saw? That makes you a liability.”

He let his eyes drag across her, not in a leering way—more like he was appraising a weapon. Gauging how useful it could be before deciding whether to holster it or toss it in a ditch. “But maybe... you don’t have to be.” He watched her face closely for any shift. Any flicker. The decision wasn’t made yet, but the seed had been planted. Now he just needed to see what kind of soil he was working with.

[knightsxfhell]

"Kinda my first time so technically, yeah." It was maybe foolish of her to keep reaching for flippancy when he could turn her into a corpse with the twitch of a finger. But it felt like the only way to deal with the growing nausea rising within her, the taste of bile at the back of her throat more easily swallowed down if she didn't think too hard about the dire life or death situation she'd found herself in.

There'd be time to give into it later, almost certain that if she did survive she'd be throwing her guts up the moment that he left. But she was too proud to do that now. The steel of her spine somehow turning her stomach to iron too as she managed to hold onto its contents.

Any other time his words would have been enough to send a shiver up her spine, a heavy-handed reminder that she had stumble upon something far more serious than she'd ever intended. But gaze stayed fixed on him, stubborn refusal to let it flicker down towards the dead man at her feet as she instead summoned every little bit of resolve she had left to meet his gaze.

There was no comfort or reassurance to be found in his expression, seeing only the clinical appraisal of someone who had no issue with taking a life and was busy debating whether hers was worth sparing or not. It was excruciating waiting for him to decide whether he was about to play judge, jury and executioner. Not least because patience had never been one of her virtues. If she'd ever possessed any past perseverance and audacity.

"The suspense is killing me." Words deadpan enough it was clear that she'd chosen them because of their irony. At the back of her mind she knew she should be trying to placate rather than provoke but there was something in her that refused to beg for her life. If these were to be her last moments she wanted to still feel like herself, not a betrayal of who she was in the hopes it'd save her skin.

Chin tilted up in a show of defiance he should be used to from her, their fleeting encounters filled with her own determination to prove she wasn't scared of him or his little club. "So present your case or pull the trigger." A shrug rolled through her shoulders with a nonchalance she certainly didn't feel but she was surprisingly more at peace with it all than she'd thought. "Either way I'll be out of my misery."

[knightsmc]

Dilan didn’t even have the chance to step fully inside before Bash was already waving her over, his enthusiasm crashing into her like a tidal wave. She barely managed to toe off her shoes and set her keys down before his hands were on her shoulders, steering her toward the dining table like she was some lost sheep in need of guidance.

“Bash,” she groaned, resisting just enough to make a show of it but not enough to actually break away. “Can I at least put my bag down? Or is this a hostage situation?” The words were still heavily accented, and even more so as they so often were when she was tired, but after all the time the two had spent together, she knew he understood.

But then she caught sight of the food spread across the table, and her stomach, traitorous as ever, twisted in interest. Whatever he had picked up smelled good—annoyingly good. She sighed, setting her bag down in the nearest chair and letting him guide her the rest of the way.

“If you poisoned this, just know I’ll haunt you forever,” she muttered, though the corner of her lips twitched with amusement. She reached for a bite, shooting him a narrowed look as if daring him to gloat before she had the chance to admit it was good.

[knightsxfhell]

Grin sprung to his lips at her playful resistance with the kind of quickness he was certain one of his brothers would have called him out for. But they weren't here to over-analyse how much he enjoyed her company or how quickly the two of them had settled into domesticity. It meant he could enjoy the evening without worrying if it meant anything else, without the voices of others telling him that he was whipped when he was still telling himself it was all just friendship.

"Hostage situation." But as soon as he'd steered her successfully towards the table he pulled the chair out for her before grabbing her bag and hanging it in the spot he'd seen her leave it countless times. It had been all too easy to fall into a routine with her despite their varied schedules, the way that he paid attention to people making it all the more simple to remember how she liked things.

Look of mock offense was shot her way before head shook, as though he was equal parts heartbroken at the accusation and disappointed at the flaw in her logic. "Now why on earth would I poison the best roommate I've ever had?" He claimed his seat once more, tossing another bite into his mouth before he continued. "Binding you to me for eternity feels a bit much, even if I do like having you around." There was no point in denying it and he'd never been a man who held back on compliments.

"Good, right?" Eyes glinting with amusement as he managed to hold back on bragging about his choice. At least for now. "Thinking we can add it into rotation." It wasn't as though his culinary skills weren't passable but between work, the club and his gym schedule he often lacked the energy or enthusiasm to cook for himself every night.

[knightsmc]

The sluggish mumble, foreign words rolling off her tongue in a way that told him her brain hadn’t caught up to the danger yet, was the first thing that made his grip tighten on the gun. Then came the whispered plea—soft, barely there, the kind of thing he’d heard before but never from someone who thought he might be the worst thing waiting for them. That sat in his gut like a bad meal. Still, work was work.

She shifted, moving slow, careful, but he saw the tension under it. Not just fear—calculation. The kind that meant she wasn’t just some scared girl with nowhere to go. She was thinking, weighing her options, hunting for a way out. Smart. Stupid, but smart.

His jaw ticked when she offered him money, like he was some lowlife trying to snatch a couple bills and run. A muscle in his arm flexed, the weight of the gun solid in his grip. “You think I’m here for a fuckin’ robbery?” His voice came quiet, even, but with an edge sharp enough to cut. She wasn’t looking at him like she believed it, not really. And that’s when he saw it—her hand, creeping under the blanket, fingers curling around something she thought might save her life. A knife.

He moved fast, faster than her sleep-heavy limbs, his free hand shooting out to grab her wrist in a bruising grip. “Bad idea,” he muttered, yanking her forward just enough to knock her off balance, not enough to throw her. He didn’t need screaming. Didn’t need a fight. But his patience? It wasn’t exactly bottomless.

“Try that again, and we see how steady my hand really is.” He pressed the muzzle just a little harder against her temple, enough to remind her it was there. Let her feel it. Let it settle in.

Then, just as quick, he made his next move—shifting the gun just slightly, just enough to tip her chin up with it, forcing her to look at him. It wasn’t necessary, but he wanted to see something. Needed to.

"I ain't here for your money, I'm here to make sure you keep your mouth shut."

[knightsxfhell]

Tears of frustration were quick to sting in her eyes as the one glimmer of hope she'd felt about evening her odds was wrenched away from her. It wasn't just his vicelike grip that had her feeling trapped, she was running out of options. Fast. The sense of calm she'd forced to come over herself was slipping away as she realised the odds were stacked firmly against her.

Element of surprise gone and the one chance she'd had to even up the fight pinned to the bed, as he yanked her forward she was jerked to the painful realisation that the only thing left to do was to go along with it and see how it all played out. Once again her agency had been stripped from her and her fate was in the hands of a man. Except the last on had become a stranger to her, she didn't think she'd ever set eyes upon the man with the gun to her head before.

She swallowed thickly, heart feeling as though it was beating rapidly in her throat. The hand that wasn't in his grasp was raised slowly in the universal signal for surrender. Voice shook slightly as she forced out her next words as calmly as she could. "About what?" Dark eyes were widened, taking on a doe-like quality in the hope that he might believe that she was playing along already.

But there was something in the erasing of the most traumatic moment of her life that caused a fire to spark within her. Maybe it was the days of being on edge and the adrenaline taking over from being shell-shocked but she suddenly felt angry enough that it emboldened her to speak. Whether of not that was the right move given the gun under her chin was yet to be seen but if these were to be her last moments she wasn't about to go without one final say.

"Which part? That they promised me and dozens of other women a chance to better themselves but it turns out there were strings attached? Or the part where the man I loved, who was supposed to love me, led me into a full of men room to be used as their plaything?" Words were a hissed whisper with a venom behind them she wouldn't have believed she was capable of. But the last week had been filled with her doing things she'd never dreamt of before.

There was a pause as she sucked in a breath but she was merely refuelling. She wasn't done yet, the man in front of her stoking as much ire and in her mind just as deserving of it in that moment. Doe eyes flashed with defiance her gaze boring into his. "And you, you seemed so, so -" Words tumbled out before she could fully translate, searching her brain for the right one to describe the sharpness his voice had taken so she could continue her tirade. "-offended that I thought you were robbing me but surely the reality is worse? That you're just a man who does someone else's dirty work? You threaten the victims so that the villains can continue?"

[knightsmc]

who: ayda + bishop ( @knightsxfhell )

"Grubs up, boys!" Ayda called out as she slammed down a catering sized dish of mantı. She had originally walked into the clubhouse practically shivering like a wet chihuahua, so frightened of the big, scary bikers. But in the past months, as she had gotten to know them surely but slowly, she had grown fondly of them, and she liked to think she had grown on them as well. Perhaps like a barnacle, but they hadn't scraped her off yet. She knew that the free food might have something to do with that, but she had already been making the turkish delicacy for a potluck at work, so what was the harm of making a little extra (okay, a lot extra, those guys could put it away)?

She knew that their help wasn't free, that she was quite literally in debt to them, and she shouldn't view them as friends. But she couldn't help it. Especially when some had offered their time, had gone above and beyond what had been outlined in her handshake-contract with AJ. She remembered how she had come in with a wonky gait, and once called out on it, and she had shared it's cause (a particularly aggressive protester who had accidentally shoved her to the ground as he came out to escort a patient), the next day she found several men on motorcycles waiting outside, scaring the pussy fundamentalists off with just their stares.

"Can anyone point me in Bishop's direction?" Words were mumbled through mouthfuls of food, but eventually her question was answered with a point of a finger. "Bat cave, I shoulda known." Ayda chuckled, heading to the room that was so incredibly stereotypical, she felt like she was walking on to a movie set where a scene with a hacker was being shot.

As she came upon him, she couldn't help the small flutter in her chest and the flip of her stomach. It was a stupid, stupid school girl crush that had developed as he had worked with her on the clinic's security, but she couldn't help it. "Hey," she called out, waiting until he turned to her before she made one of her many many stupid jokes, clicking her tongue to replicate the noises of a keyboard, her fingers dancing in front of her as if typing, "Are you in?"

[knightsxfhell]

Despite being a long-serving member of the Knights and having his own office within the clubhouse, more often than not he found the place overwhelming. As much as he liked the feeling of belonging and the way that being part of a brotherhood brought him comfort, Preach would always find his preference leaning towards solitude. The quiet room he'd claimed for himself would always call to him more than the busier rooms. He was always too happy to interact with his brothers in small groups but more than a handful of them and his mind would beg him to retreat to his solace.

Most of the time he was so hyper-focused on the screens in front of him it would have taken someone several attempts to get his attention. But he'd been alert to the world from the moment he'd heard her voice in the other room. Immediately tuning in to her frequency as her voice acted as a kind of siren song to pull him from the screens he lived in back into reality. Hesitation stilled his movements, wondering if he should go join the masses in an effort to see her or wait it out and hope she'd swing by. His decision paralysis was ended the moment he heard footsteps approaching, the mere thought of her approaching presence acting as a balm.

Turning slowly he chuckled at her action, gaze softening. But the inaccuracy niggled at him, head shaking slightly as his laughter faded. "Uh, no." The words seemed to hang in the air for an eternity, his inability to not lay things out plainly meaning he couldn't let her joke stand, as endearing as it had been. It dawned on him that he should say something else, maybe explain himself. "Most of it's keeping people out, actually." But she already knew that, probably, if only from her proximity to him during their time working on the clinic's technology. So all he'd succeeded in doing was dampening the mood and pointing out the obvious. Way to continue the conversation, Bishop.

Throat cleared slightly, wondering what had brought her to his door. It would hardly be for his scintillating conversation skills. "I didn't think we were due to go over your account yet this month?" To others the words might have been a simple statement, him drawing a boundary that their meeting hadn't been a planned one. But with her it is more of a question, soft curiosity in his tone instead. Brow furrowed only moments later as he continued to work his way through explanations for her appearance, settling on the most logical one. "Is there something wrong at the clinic?"