#[;fractureddevotion]

[ryan-the-sinner]

Baby We’re In Trouble

He didn't walk up with that "how you doin'?" (uh)                    (When he came in the room) He said there's a lot of girls I can do with (uh)                                                  (But I can't without you)

[ℜ]  He’s watching, again. Another one of their Friday nights where he makes himself available and comes and meets her at the dance studio. Tonight it seems though she’s feeling a bit more....sexy, the circle and dips of her hips as she loses herself in the music, bass booming even from his place in the door. Azure eyes follow her every movement, watching as sweat picks up on her skin and she seems to be in another world, no meetings, no deadlines, no deals to be made. Nothing is on her mind other than how she feels right now, how the music crescendo and drops in her bloodstream and takes her away while he suffers in silence and tries to imagine the worst things possible to keep his raging erection in check. 

Uh huh   Oh na-na-na (oh na, yeah)     Oh na-na-na        Oh na-na-na          No, no, no, take me back             Oh na-na-na                 Havana, ooh na-na

He slips back behind the glass just as the horns stop playing, giving them enough space so he doesn’t look like a total fucking creep ( a bit too late for that) and she can enjoy the last bits of music before coming back into her body, one he notices belongs to the woman he’s been jerk--- nope! Not going there. Fuck this song and this damn dance studio.

[ryan-the-sinner]

Just One Yesterday- Keep Moving Forward

[ℜ]   He forgets just how fucking depressing this part of town is, how it seems not even the smallest animals want to make their way over here, the sheer weight of grief could possibly keep away the biggest predator known to man. But alas, here they sit in the rental car, a slight rain pattering on the metal around them and he hasn’t let up on his grip on the steering wheel since he parked them there fifteen minutes ago. “We don’t have to do this you know....” It’s the first words he’s breathed since they crossed over the Mystic Falls line, the reality of it all crashing down around him and he can’t stomach a light hearted joke yet alone make one. “If it’s too much...we can go back.” 

[ryan-the-sinner]

Do I Wanna Know|| fractureddevotion

[ℜ]       The human body is one he knows well, from curious glances of late night programming as a child to rushed quickies in seedy hotels after bar hopping. The human body is also the main reason why his parents have stopped asking where his money is coming from and his sister has damned near stopped talking to him all together. “You’re a prostitute?!” She’d all but shrieked at him one night over dinner to the beat of clanging silverware and a room falling more silent than death. “Escort,” he corrected and resumed right back to cutting into the grilled chicken their mother had placed in front of them only 15 minutes before, only for Amanda to sputter in shock before dismissing herself from the table without a second look back. That was almost two years ago and his client list has grown, a few of dear sissy’s friends if he might add as well which makes it all the more sweet and all the more challenging when it comes to try and talk to her again. Don’t forget who wiped your ass for a year kid. Can’t focus on that now, he’s got a new job lined up and Scott’s oh so patiently waiting for him to give him an answer as he stands-no hovers outside his doorway. “She’s willing to pay twice your charging amount,” he reminds him for the umpteenth time since he’s handed him the ad. “Yeah got it.” It’s not that he’s against responding per say, it’s just that being a wedding date seemed to be so....boring, plus there was a less than 50% chance he’d be getting laid and that in itself was upsetting. But, even as narcissistic and led by his dick he may be, he can’t deny the pay looks better than busting his nut, not to mention there were a few other people willing to take care of that certain problem for him with a simple text and a promise of drinks. Oh what the hell. “Alright,” he sighs, threading his fingers through his hair. “Let my clientele know I’ll be out of office for a bit and I expect full payment Scott, oh, and if she tries to tie me up and paddle me, I’m coming straight for your ass.” Will he ever let the dude live down the fact that one of he allowed one of his best employees to be handcuffed to a bed and paddled like an insolent child while her husband watched and jerked off in the corner? No. Was the pay almost worth it? Jury was still out on that. Pleased with his answer, the raven is left again once more and he grabs his phone off his desk, calling the number provided with a shake of his head. On the third ring, a bored but most definite feminine voice answers his call, and he’s intrigued immediately. “Elena Gilbert, my name’s Ryan and I’m answering the ad you placed a few days ago. Now, would you like to do this over the phone or meet in person?” Here goes nothing.