landslidess is a private rp blog, featuring the following muses written, loved, and relentlessly tortured by g:
➤ devin reyes ➤ hakan yazıcı ➤ jamie harrison ➤ leyla boz ➤ miray koraslan ➤ rio delgado
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@landslidess
landslidess is a private rp blog, featuring the following muses written, loved, and relentlessly tortured by g:
➤ devin reyes ➤ hakan yazıcı ➤ jamie harrison ➤ leyla boz ➤ miray koraslan ➤ rio delgado
✦ devin reyes / @landslidess the gentleman's club ( i don't have a name yet lol )
usually he stayed in a backroom. either his office or going through stock of the liquor that kept the bar in adequate supply. most of the cash flying around the joint definitely went to the talent, but there was a two drink minimum and besides that it was the second reason most of the patrons frequented the club. women and alcohol . . . what an intoxicating mix.
this evening, at least, for the few opening hours until it got busy inside, dale hung out behind the bar. one of the tenders was running late and it helped him get a lay of the land. dale liked to keep eyes on things and he felt because of that it saved the club from ever having any real trouble. the only problems that seemed to be brewing were his own and that boundary of mixing business with pleasure.
because of his attraction to her the interactions were kept to a minimum. dale had convinced himself it was the only way to keep from a full blown infatuation, something he felt way too old for, with devin reyes. but, like now, when she was right on the other side of the bar from him the club owner was questioning his morals.
"looks like it's gonna be a busy night," he drawled, making easy conversation without ever truly letting his gaze focus on her. outward appearance it looked like someone scanning his business, but inward his heart was pounding. the dancer was stunning, easily the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and that made him feel like a teenager all over again. who was he to chat up the prettiest girl? "you want a little something to take the edge off before it all ramps up?"
Before the night fully set in and revealed itself, Devin often found herself lingering by the bar if only for a moment, scoping it all out– getting a lay of the land, if nothing else. She always wanted a preview of what she was up against. So far, from what she could tell, the night was set up for business as usual, which meant she’d walk out of the place with hopefully enough money to cover both her bills, and those of her family– and that was good enough for her. Either way, she’d get close, and that had to count for something.
A shimmering gold robe clung to her frame as she leant up against the bar, her actual, next to nothing leather outfit carefully concealed beneath that layer of silk. She’d never been one to reveal herself ahead of time. No, this moment before the show was for her– a chance to collect herself and prep before she took center stage. Turning away at the sound of his voice, Devin abandoned her survey and twisted around, eyeing her boss from where he stood behind the bar. “Lucky for me,” she simpered, already allowing herself to feel a shred of relief in knowing monthly bills would likely be covered. “Well, and for you,” Devin amended, knowing he had even more of a stake in a successful night than she did. The busier, the better.
Raising a brow at his offer, Devin studied him for a moment. It wasn’t a trap– she knew that; Dale was perhaps the most level headed and realistic man she’d ever worked for. Her surprise didn’t fall at the hands of the offer itself, no, it was the fact that he was the one breathing it to life. From her observations, Dale typically kept to himself in a backroom– the two of them only speaking here and there. Even with him manning the bar for a portion of the night, she hadn’t expected that dynamic to change much. “Who am I to refuse?” She supplied, going with the safest option. But…Devin had never really believed in playing it entirely safe. Resting her elbows on the bartop, she turned fully towards him then, leaning forward, “Our little secret– can’t have the boss knowing I’m drinking on the job,” she winked, eyes meeting his in a brilliant clash of brown and blue. Devin had long ago accepted that Dale was forbidden territory– he was her boss– but it hadn’t stopped the stolen glances here and there when she thought he wasn’t looking. “Give me a tequila shot, bar man,” she grinned, sliding her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before arriving at a novel idea, one she hoped he’d lunge at, “You’re joining me, though, right?”
✦ leyla boz / @landslidess the tower, montrose
in the lobby after finishing a meeting somewhere near the top floor, the investigation hotter than summer in death valley over the murder of the mayor the main issue for everyone currently, he stood going through his phone as he awaited the retrieval of his car. it was mostly texts from his paralegals, emails of new documents to review, and truly nothing that actually inspired him.
the criminal defense attorney was good at his job though. grayson had been raised in it, followed in his father's footsteps, yet had nowhere near the same passion for it. to him, it was money in the bank and a cushioned life as a result of it. what made it even remotely thrilling for the 6'4'' montrose native was the people he'd meet. criminals and those that lived outside the law, tried to make their own rules, were far more interesting than him trying to wade through someone's messy divorce.
when the elevator chimed, signaling its arrival and doors opening, it caught his attention. mostly because he'd hoped the valet was coming through another door to escort him to his awaiting bentley outside. what he saw instead was the gorgeous brunette that'd always caught his ocean gaze and tempted him to linger. they'd spoken more than a handful of times but it always seemed to happen in passing. an idea sparked, causing a corner of his mouth to hook, as her heels sounded on the marble flooring.
"on your way out as well?" an easy observation and really only meant to be an opening line to snag her attention. there was a focus to her gaze, forward, like she had something on her mind. if grayson wasn't selfish he would've felt a little bad for breaking her concentration. "need a ride? i was headed home. i'm a pretty good cook . . ."
For all the money the syndicate had accumulated over the years, could they not have budgeted for an elevator that moved a little faster? Freshly manicured nails tapped against the railing, impatience clinging to her every edge, despite the fact that the elevator actually did move fast enough. The reality was that Leyla was just craving her freedom and a night in, especially after having stayed over a few hours to ensure that a forgery project met its deadline. Needless to say, she was practically itching to get out of the Tower and back home– and out of her heels.
Checking her phone as the elevator dinged and the doors opened towards the lobby, Leyla stepped out onto the glistening marble, only half-aware of her surroundings as she fired off a quick text and glanced up, eager to swallow the distance between this place and her couch.
And then there he was. Grayson Heller. No, she couldn’t claim to know him beyond brief conversations here and there, but no part of her was immune to what that ocean blue stare could do to a woman. Inwardly, Leyla felt something within her shudder the same way it always did any time his blue eyes landed on her in a way that made her think he was actually looking at her, rather than through her. Outwardly, a warm grin split her lips painted red as she nodded, “I’ve got an unopened cabernet calling my name,” she replied, because ‘can’t get the hell out of here fast enough’ hardly felt appropriate.
Naturally, she’d assumed this would play out just like the bulk of their conversations did– cordial, and over far too soon. And then–
Need a ride? Heel clad footfalls stopped and Leyla stared at him for a moment, nearly letting every ounce of her poise and composure fly out of the window as he continued. She swallowed, half tempted to pinch herself before recovering in the utmost way– with a smirk and an upturned brow as she regarded him. “That’s a bit more than just a ride,” Leyla pointed out, but then, surely he’d have already figured that out before he’d asked, right? So what was this– just a kind gesture or was it a carefully crafted acknowledgment of something more to their surface conversations and lingering looks? “Alright, I’ll bite,” she conceded, having not really put up much of an argument in the first place, both inwardly and outwardly. “What’s on the menu?”
✦ jamie harrison / @landslidess some hole in the wall bar lol
sometimes even a city like montrose left a woman like ritz in a state of boredom. with all of its offerings nothing appealed to her. maybe that had something to do with lack of connection more than anything else. entertainment came easily, and because of that it was fleeting in it's longevity. what she needed and craved versus what she allowed was a catch 22, however, as ritz never let anyone close enough to see who was really there.
the door to an off-center, away from downtown bar was pushed open as the the petite woman in a designer dress and accessories made her way into the establishment. it was dingy, almost looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in two decades, and was held together by gorilla glue. it was kind of quiet, too. a few screens displayed sports and news. the pool table well off to the left had a game going but the play was subdued. even the hum of conversation was low for the few scattered people within the establishment's walls.
"is god answering you in the bottom of that drink?" voice smooth, a touch sweet, but mostly velvety sounded next to the man at the bar she'd clocked on entry. he was staring into his glass as though it were revealing the secrets to life. despite most of the bar having empty seats ritz settled right next to him. her expensive perfume was subtle but was the kind that would linger long after she was gone.
Another shift, another night in a dive bar spent washing away the roughest edges of it– or at least the edges that a bottom shelf whiskey had enough grit to scrape off. His ex-wife had their daughter tonight, like most every night, and once again, Jamie Harrison was left to his own devices after a grueling thirteen hours in the emergency room. Naturally, he found himself here, a quiet spot where he was quickly becoming a regular. What he couldn’t decide was whether the bartender’s now easy recognition of him was a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps it was neither– either way, he didn’t have the capacity to debate it, not when the names and faces of the last thirteen hours still gnawed at him the way they did.
Jamie lifted a hand, silently ordering another round.
He hardly registered his surroundings, and it wasn’t because of the amber liquid burning all the way down his throat. It was the alarm fatigue, the way he heard every ding and clash even when the machines and monitors were well beyond his rearview mirror. Still, it was like that high pitched ringing never quite stopped, or maybe he’d just never figured out how to turn it off.
Pulled from his thoughts by a question he’d heard more than once over the course of his life, Jamie chuckled softly and gave his newest round a gentle swirl, “Oh no– I stopped talking to god a long time ago,” he replied with a wry smile, raising the glass to his lips for a quick sip, “This is just making the day go down easier.” And then he set the glass down and looked over– Of course, he’d clocked that the voice that had appeared beside him was smooth and distinctly feminine, but the image he’d conjured up in his mind didn’t even come close to living up to the real thing. Blue eyes widened before he could stop them as he drank her in, instantly finding her far more intoxicating than anything the bartender could pour into a glass. Jamie cleared his throat, fearing he wouldn’t be able to speak past the lump that’d formed now that he’d gotten a slow, measured look at her– and at what she was wearing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but uh,” he paused, gesturing at the dusty scene all around them, “You sure you’re at the right place?” Chuckling a bit breathlessly, he glanced down at his own attire. No, he wasn’t in scrubs anymore, but he’d opted for jeans and a flannel– not much of an improvement, if any, “Think I might be a little underdressed for your company.”
the moment that single word of turkish slipped in-between them something warmed the poker player from the inside out. how long had it been since a man other than her father had used the language of her heritage? the brunette couldn't remember but it inclined her even more toward hakan, because whether he meant it to or not it reminded sena they had commonalities they couldn't ignore. "is this love . . . and war, hakan?" the emphasis on the word was so purposeful as her gaze narrowed slightly, wondering how he would walk around that one. everything she'd known and experienced of him thus far had told her that the syndicate man was carefully crafted and calculate. the man wasn't accustomed to putting a wrong foot.
once more she found her attention just simply stuck on him. there was a mesmerization about him because as a leader he carried that power and emulated it, that alone drew the interest and well, sena was a bit captivated. if she were honest with herself then she'd admit that anytime they seemed to be in each other's presence it was always that way. otherwise why were they always in these tête-à-têtes? she would also ignore that she always seemed to be the instigator. "oh, no . . . that has to be the worst thing ever. boredom? how could you survive?" a teasing tone came into play and perhaps for the first time ever in their interactions the poker player was being playful.
"mm," the hum sounded in her throat as she considered his counter. if she put thought to it then it wasn't too surprising. they were turkish, the oregon climate wasn't what they were made for. "so you wanna put some color back onto your skin," she commented, amusement toyed at her lips from the way his laugh lingered in her ears. "maldives is nice but i'm more of a romantic. give me italy, especially during sunset." she'd noted that his ideal came without a someone else and sena wondered about that briefly. was he one of those lone wolf men, or did he like being single so he could be with whatever woman suited him at the time? why did she even care to know that? "actually . . ." once more the brunette was surprising herself here, "i would like to know. it's why i asked, hakan." why couldn't she stop saying his name either? when his answer had come it disappointed her in a way she hadn't expected. sena knew in the grand scheme of things that fifty-grand wasn't a huge sum of money but she supposed their glaring differences were just highlighted. she'd also use the money for selfish reasons but maybe to learn how to make wine or to learn how to sail. "i guess that means you go for the ten-grand a night suite."
it wasn't his devilish amusement that caught her up in that next moment. what hit her was how suddenly she felt exposed to him. because the statement said so much more than she was prepared for, something that up until he called it out had only sat in her subconscious. "does one have to be looking to notice something?" the counter felt like a fumbling mess but sena tried her best to not show that he'd just gotten to her a little and knocked her slightly off center. as a woman used to the mask and a master of hiding her tells it was jarring hakan had made it seem so easy. "aren't you?" he stilled her now, no more advancements in his direction. maybe it was the cockiness of his smirk, or perhaps it was the fear that he was reading her before she even knew what she was thinking and feeling. "or am i not your typical type?" surely it'd been her attitude that'd kept him from these so-called charms all this time, but now she was wondering why he'd never bothered with her. of course that was also all to the fact that her assumption of him was something of a playboy. when he turned to her fully her dark eyes moved over that devastatingly handsome face. "i suppose you'll find out if you actually try. i've kind of already let out my secret that i'm a romantic."
when his arm brushed hers that time and he edged closer sena's lips parted. on it's own accord her wrist shifted and turned her hand in a way that her fingers lightly grazed and ghosted the inside of his forearm. "no, because i'm a catch . . ." the comment was low, not much above a whisper in their proximity. "i just can't tell if you've ever . . ." finishing that statement felt too dangerous and her heart was pounding a way that she wasn't accustomed to, and sena was someone used to high stakes games. "i can't read you and it bothers me," the brunette finally let out. "do you like my sister?" it seemingly came out of left field but hakan wasn't in her head and the realization was striking her internally that she wanted a man like him to want her.
Was it love and war? He lifted a brow, clearly clocking how she wanted him to take her question and really mull it over, or perhaps stumble over it. Instead, he turned it right back around on her, “We still talking about poker, or about you and me?” He challenged back, holding her stare for a moment before shrugging ever so nonchalantly, “That’s up to you, Sena. It isn’t war that I’m after– not with you, anyway.” And yet, he couldn’t help but get the sense that she had little use for him. He’d always suspected that it had something to do with Leyla, or perhaps she simply just didn’t like him for whatever impression he’d given her in the beginning. Whatever the reasoning was, it went without saying that her posing a question about love and war piqued his interest, if the subtle arch in his brow was anything to go by.
Silently, he watched her watch him, and wondered what sort of thoughts were running through that sharp, impenetrable mind of hers. The way her tone turned playful with him just now– was that a part of her poker face, or was it something he was meant to take note of and lean into? “By a sheer miracle,” he answered with a soft smirk, his attention still honed in on her and the shift in her tone. He couldn’t remember a single time in all of their limited interactions when she’d responded to him that way– was it a trap or a way forward?
Filing that thought away for later, he chuckled at her next comment and glanced down at his skin, noticeably lighter than he was used to even in the low lighting, “Something like that, yeah,” he nodded, finding himself missing the Turkish summers and beaches more often than not. He lifted a brow then, quietly wondering why she’d thought to tell him that she was a romantic, or that she liked Italian sunsets. Was he meant to act on that, or was it just an offhand comment she’d made to keep the conversation flowing? “Noted,” he replied, a roguish smile curling at the corner of his mouth– his way of letting her know he’d taken stock of these new tidbits of information about her, “What’s your favorite city in Italy?” Again, was it simple conversation, or was he digging for more? A low hum rumbled in the back of his throat as she insisted that she actually did want to know what he’d do with the fifty grand. “Like you’d believe me if I told you,” he scoffed, shooting her a doubtful look. Would she believe he was even capable of philanthropy? Maybe one day he’d tell her the truth and test the waters, but for now, part of him was alright with her believing he was a selfish bastard who’d use fifty grand for vacation money. A wry smile curved his lips then at her mention of a ten-grand a night suite, followed by a coy shrug and one of the more forward statements he’d ever hurled at her, “You’re welcome to tag along and find out.”
Head tipped slightly to the side, Hakan watched as he seemingly caught her off guard, her counter lacking the usual sharpness she met him with. Satisfaction crept onto his features like a low glowing ember ready to catch a spark, “Well, that is kinda how noticing works,” he pointed out, brows lifting in tandem. For a moment, he had to wonder if he was finally chipping away at her snarky exterior– rattling her, perhaps. Aren’t you? Now it was his turn to be caught off guard, but he didn’t allow the slip to linger for long, “Would it change anything if I was?” He’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t try to charm her, in the event that he thought he even could, and so far, she was proving to him that he couldn’t. Still, Hakan rarely backed down from a challenge. “You know you are,” his type, that was. If she’d noticed his lack of presence at her poker tables, then surely she’d had to notice the way his gaze often lingered on her long after it should have moved away. “Careful, Sena. You’re starting to sound like you want me to.” His breath stilled in his throat, dark eyes momentarily flickering down to how fingers lightly brushed against his arm. Was that the first time she’d ever touched him? Swallowing thickly, his gaze snapped back up to meet her own, “If I’ve ever what? Wanted you?” He let the taunt linger in the air for half a heartbeat before continuing, “If you want to know, then ask me,” he challenged just to see if she’d actually take the bait and go for it. “A man you can’t read. What a travesty, huh?” He taunted, using a variation of her own words from earlier against her. It was her next question that took him wholly aback though, and had him physically straightening, “What? No,” Hakan shook his head, quickly dispelling that possibility, “I mean– as a person, sure. But…not like this,” he continued, his thumb and forefinger brushing against her arm. Whatever this was. “Were you worried about that?”
✦ rio delgado / @landslidess continued from here
what choice had charli had but to move on from her first love. only love, truthfully. she never really tried again after him. while she understood the explanation and his reasonings when he'd broken up with her, nearly a decade and a half was a very long time to wait and to be in some limbo partial relationship. but . . . the brunette would've done it. the hacker would've remained his girl through all of it. he'd wanted her to live because neither of them had any idea what life would be like with him locked up.
the part that hurt almost as much as being dumped by rio was that she knew he'd be left to face prison completely alone. maybe his friends called, wrote, and visited him but she'd had to stop after their relationship was ended. not because charli hadn't wanted to, she never stopped thinking about him and cycling through all of the 'what ifs', but because it was too painful. being in love with rio and having to take a step backward and act as a friend instead was a level of devastation she never fully faced.
"well, thrift store did you well," her dark eyes continued to take her ex in, not really caring that she was openly and blatantly checking him out, "you fill out your clothing a little differently." they were well into their thirties now and he was grown. a full on man stood before her and while she'd never really expected all the tattoos she couldn't deny the appeal they had as she looked rio over. it was a blessing and a curse to see him so well. guilt seeped in at the edges because she hated that it'd happened without her.
maybe because it'd been so long charli found herself blushing just slightly under rio's gaze and scrutiny. the fact that she could tell he liked what he saw only added to the heat touching her cheeks. "it's a passionate color," she said of the red, glancing down at her dress, "and you know how much i love passion." perhaps that was her way of saying some things never change.
as much as her head was warning her heart to take it slow, to ease into this reunion and all things rio now that he was a free man, the hacker couldn't stop herself from moving closer to him. in the casino with everything going on around them she at least had that as an excuse to fall back on if he questioned it. charli didn't think he would, though. "well, i remember it, but this is a good surprise. i just . . ." as she looked at him, finding that familiar affection in his gaze, the words died in her throat. wishing she could've been prepared made no real sense if she thought about it, because there was no way anyone could be ready for this.
the one that got away returns?
"true, i do have a different number. i've actually had a few different numbers since . . ." again, she couldn't, instead biting them down even thinking about their breakup could send her into a spiral now that he was in front of her. "i get it, though," she assured rio, "i would've been scared, too. how do you even start that conversation or make that call?" the question was rhetorical but she inched closer as it came out. then her ex hit her with it. i'm here with you. charli could feel something crumblr inside of her. maybe it was her resolve.
a moment later she'd eliminated any space or distance between them and wrapped her arms around rio. "i've missed you so fucking much," she whispered into the crook of his neck, her face turning into him. maybe this was too much, overboard, but it'd been an action she couldn't have compelled herself not to make. somewhere in the back of her mind rio's right now comment niggled but for this moment she ignored it. if some date of his walked up and found them this way the brunette really didn't care. she was owed this because her heart had waited fourteen years for this, for him. "you smell so good, too. damn it." the hacker pulled back a bit, bittersweet sat in her gaze as she peered up at her ex in the close proximity. "so . . . you're a biker now," a little smile, "well, that seems fitting." when the question returned to her, charli shook her head. "i'm not here with a date, no. nor a club." the syndicate didn't really name themselves but that also wasn't something to broach at the moment.
"what would you do if i was?" her fingers had pinched his shirt between them, tethering herself to him in that moment. "would you have eventually come for me or was this is? it would've had to happen by chance?"
During Rio’s fourteen years inside, it was like he’d felt frozen– not only literally but figuratively too, like time inside those iron bars had stalled, but the outside world just kept on moving. Without him. It’d been a bitter thought in his mind for the longest time until he’d finally come to the realization that he couldn’t have one foot in that world and one inside a prison, especially not when anyone else was trying to toe that line with him. And so he’d let Charli go, unwilling to let her live her life in some sort of fucked up limbo where she’d be held back– he'd needed her to be in a place where her life could move forward even if his couldn’t. It’d been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but the right thing. And so to stand here with her now was surreal– it felt like he could take a breath for the first time in fourteen years without feeling like barbed wire was stretched out across his chest, caging in his sense of relief. Because he knew she was okay now. For the first time in all of those years, he could see it for himself and it made it all worth it, even if it’d damn near killed him to let her go.
A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as she continued to look him over– not that he wasn’t doing the exact same to her. Of course he was– she’d always been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and that had only grown with time, and he’d never hide how his gaze lingered on her long after he should have stopped looking. Rio shrugged a shoulder ever so nonchalantly, “Had some free time, y’know, figured I’d start working out,” he supplied with a laugh. Free time to the tune of fourteen years. But at least he’d made use of it in that area. He’d rather focus on her though, and his eyes spoke for himself, trailing over her every perfect dip and curve. Red was a passionate color, and he couldn’t think of one more fitting for a woman who’d shown him her passion in spades. He sucked in a breath, didn’t care if she’d noticed it, and threw her a knowing smile, “I do.” He’d been on the receiving end of that passion enough to know just how deep it ran.
With every bit of distance that was eaten up between them, Rio found himself relaxing more. There was something about being in her orbit that loosened the tension in his shoulders, regardless of the fact that they had fourteen years to talk about. Somehow, it didn’t matter– at least not in that moment. “I know,” he murmured, stepping a bit closer himself, like a moth drawn to a flame, “There’s not exactly a how-to manual for how we’re supposed to do this.” Still, he was happy to hear that seeing him was a good surprise. Everything else would work itself out, or at least that was what he told himself now that so much distance between them had been swallowed up.
“Mind if I get it by the end of the night?” Her number, that was. Maybe it was bold, but was it really, considering all their cards on the table? Even now, Charli knew him in ways no one else did. He nodded then, knowing her question really wasn’t desiring an answer, and yet he cracked one anyway, if only just to inject humor into the moment, “Well, nearly crashing into each other by the slot machines wasn’t exactly on my list how I thought I’d do it, but I’ll take it.”
And then she reached for him.
For fourteen years, his body had been so devoid of affection, of any sort of human touch other than fists or makeshift knives. For half a heartbeat, Rio scarcely knew what to do. And then as if on instinct, he responded, his arms lifting to wrap around her frame. “I’ve missed you too,” he managed, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as she turned into him, “And this.” Fuck, she felt incredible, with nearly every line of her body tucked up so perfectly against his. As if re-learning how she fit in his arms, he kept one arm locked around her, while the other hand moved across the expanse of her back, tracing over every fine line. He laughed softly at her next comment, just grateful he no longer smelled like a prison. “Dollar store fabric softener, baby– never fails,” he teased, easing back the slightest bit just to look at her as his hands slipped down her frame and came to rest against her waist.
“Getting there– still a prospect,” he sighed, knowing he still had a long way to go before he actually wore a patch. But it was worth it, because without the MC, he’d have likely been dead by now. “The club offered me protection inside, figured I’d be stupid not to take it when it came knocking.” Why he’d even needed the protection was a story for another time, as were the collection of scars adorning his left side. A soft breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding so close to his chest, released upon hearing she wasn’t here with a date. He lifted a brow at her question, “What would you want me to do?” It was his roundabout way of asking if she’d still want him to chase her, regardless of the circumstances. Not that they’d have mattered, though, because he’d planned on chasing her anyway. The world might have stopped for fourteen years for him, but the way he felt about her hadn’t missed a single beat. Growing bolder then, he raised a hand at her question, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, “You’re all I thought about for fourteen years, Charli,” he murmured, his hand slipping down to cup the side of her face, while the other stayed planted against her hip, “I was always gonna come for you.” It’d just been a matter of when and how, but he’d always known he’d find her once he was released and had a moment to catch his breath. His hand settled beneath her chin, lifting it ever so slightly so that he could get a better look at her, “¿Esperabas que viniera?”
✦ hakan yazıcı / @landslidess continued from here
there was a bit of surprise that hakan hadn't tossed her some witty comeback. it actually only further proved his status to her. a show that he knew when and where to move chess pieces as though he were playing the long game when it came to strategy. which, undoubtedly he was. but did the man of power need to exert it in every interaction and connection in his life? did hakan know how to be anything else?
"haven't you heard an eye for an eye makes the world go blind?" there was a pause because the brunette knew that was a statement on revenge, but she'd hope that his big brains would capture her point regardless. "sometimes you have to play the upper hand. sometimes you have to be the bigger person." not every situation is a fight you need to win. sena hadn't said that part out loud though because as pathetic as it might make her sound to him the poker player sometimes wished he'd be a little less with her. that their interactions weren't always a battleground. though, sena knew he'd likely lay all the hostility on her.
which, maybe wasn't entirely wrong. she was so mad he'd sentenced her sister to a life with the syndicate. there was no good way out of that. leyla would be used up and then discarded when she was no longer useful. she knew way too much to ever release her into civility now.
sipping her own drink the brunette kept catching the way he'd steal a glance at her. of course hakan would keep his eyes on those around him, but he kept checking her responses to him beyond the verbal. sena was sure of it. she stepped closer. "i'd put it in my safe. it's not like my profession has a 401K and unlike you . . . i don't wanna work the rest of my life." it'd only make a dent in what'd been stolen from her but it was better than it's currently empty status. "what would you do with fifty-thousand? would it even make you bat an eye, hakan?"
the scoff into his drink just before his comment had earned him a glower. "i've never seen your support at one of my tables," she fired back immediately, faux amusement dripping like thick honey. "does that bother you?" sena stepped closer, dark gaze pinned on him. she wasn't giving him time to answer, she hadn't really cared for his response either way. "a woman you can't charm. what a travesty, huh?" now she was close enough that her arm was nearly brushing his and her eyes hadn't left his smirking profile. "i'm starting to understand that you wish i was . . ."
Every step he took felt like a calculation at an event like this, and every word rested on a razor’s edge. Tensions were so unbelievably high, but Hakan had downright perfected the ability to mask the weight of that. It was a practiced art, one he’d started honing back in law school, but truth be told, he didn’t want to use it while he spoke with Sena. Why? Hakan couldn’t quite put a name on that yet, he just knew that he wanted to project something more authentic than the syndicate man he’d shown everyone he was, but it was difficult for him to break a mold he wore like a second skin. Even now, he found himself reverting back to it, shielding himself with it as she spoke about an eye for an eye. “Evet, but all is fair in love and war, no?” He countered, shrugging a shoulder simply as he raised his drink to his lips, eyeing her yet again from over the rim. “That sounds utterly boring,” being the bigger person. It wasn’t, though– not really. But how could he ever convince her that he actually felt that way deep down?
Hakan raised a brow, “Who said I wanted to work forever?” He laughed as she compared and contrasted the two of them. “I’d much rather be on a beach in the Maldives, ass in the sand and a drink in my hand,” and in the company of someone he actually cared about, but Hakan had intentionally left that part out so as not to give her one more thing to scoff at. As for what he’d do with the money? “Do you really care to know?” He asked, his tone both soft and laced with a tinge of doubt. He’d never miss fifty grand, not in the grand scheme of things, and so if he had that sum to spare? He’d send it somewhere actually useful– to a charity he cared about, perhaps one even back home in Türkiye. And yet rather than say that? “Probably spend it on that vacation, I suppose,” he opted for instead, because verbalizing a selfish endeavor rather than something with real meaning behind it was likely what she’d expected from him, was it not? So why not live up to it?
Another smirk crept onto the edges of his expression, dousing his face in a low, almost mischievous sort of glow, “Didn’t realize you were looking,” Hakan returned, never missing a beat. And maybe she hadn’t been looking, but for her to note his absence was enough for him to run wild with. Watching as she cut through more of the distance between them, Hakan’s open mouth smirk only tipped up at one corner as he regarded her, “Is that what I’m trying to do here– charm you?” He taunted, head canting to the side ever so slightly. He shifted a bit more, fully turned towards her now, “Would you ever even admit it if I could?” Charm her, that was. Somehow, he doubted Sena would ever grant him that sort of knowledge, regardless of whether or not he could actually pull it off. “Maybe I do,” he admitted in a low murmur, his arm finally brushing against hers as he edged closer that time. She was an intriguing, highly intelligent, and lethally beautiful woman– had he not complicated the trajectory of her sister’s life in trying to do the right thing, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve actually had the chance to know Sena beyond that. He blinked up to meet her gaze for a moment, “Do you fault me for it?”
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