hstarke

[hstarke]

Hans laughs, "Yeah, I don't think there was love involved."

"What?!" He double-takes, feigning offense. "I'm a banker, buddy. Would a guy like me ever lie?"

The two had met before, mostly in passage on their ways in and out of neighboring yachts — both of their families stringing right along. It's an entirely different setting now; this metal case replaces the usual sunshine, and the distance is much closer than it'd ever been before. It bring Hans to study him longer; poolside blue eyes finding Halil's, noticing the similarities in the hue of them. Then, his hair; complexion; height, and build. He's attractive, Hans decides, in both honest and competitive spirit. "I was more of an Indiana Jones guy myself." Did he dream of being him, or was it simply an excuse for a questioning teen to watch an objectively handsome man on his screen guilt free? "I work Wall Street now. How's that for adventure?"

Halil nods, his lips pursed into a thin, amused line. "What happened in this movie? Did the cables snap? Did they get attacked by a poltergeist? Fall in love? Or was it a different kind of movie altogether?"

Light eyes find the briefcase as it's rested on the floor, they follow the movements of his fingers as they type cancellation messages on his phone, and his disinterested, almost dismissive manner of speaking, settles the fight that had overcome him; but not entirely. Leaning forward now, he presses the emergency button, his hand falling from his jacket pocket where it had gone the moment that the elevator had stalled. "Somehow," Halil inhales. "I don't trust you at your word." The professor allows it to hang between them for a moment before grinning. "If I'd laugh at me trying to climb an elevator shaft, you'd stand no chance keeping a straight face. Besides, everyone wants to be the next Bond."

[hstarke]

"Jeez." Hans scoffs, downing the glass in one easy go. "I thought you were gonna say something easy — like girlfriend problems, or whatever."

Now that he thinks of it, there are no recent memories of Levi around anyone new. No one night stands, no stepmothers in training — that he knows of, anyway.

"No offense, but—" He eyes Levi closely, attempting to decipher if his assumptions are true. Another pour of whiskey feels timely, and fair. "You've been a doctor for a while. Doesn't that happen all the time?"

Levi always enjoyed the view of the city, his mind going to many nights where he was at penthouse looking out into the city, enjoying a drink as he listened to his target who was giving him the information he needed. He let out a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. His mind had been else were lately but he made sure he was present when he was with his son. When they went to bed, he found himself thinking about the past, that night he gave in and felt that darkness he had always suppress and then losing a patient too.

He was glad that they kids were having fun inside, watching a Disney Movie. This is the life he wanted for his kid, for them to play, watch cartoon and be a kid. He was also glad he was able to give them what he did not have. "Just finding it hard to shut off my mind lately. Can't stop thinking about the patient I lost and some other stuff with family," he answered with a sad chuckle.

[hstarke]

RAHI | HANS | JULIAN | ANAÏS | TRISTAN | LOLA | LEE

▸   𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣  (2018-𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵)  sentence  starters  &  prompts.

         assorted  quotes  &  prompts  from  tv  show  that’s  ruined  my  life.  some  lines  have  been  changed  slightly  to  be  more  applicable.  mature  content  and  language  may  be  used,  feel  free  to  adjust  as  necessary.

❝  do  you  want  to make  a  deal  with  the  devil?  ❞

❝  what  am  i  gonna  do  with  a  soul  anyway?  ❞

❝  souls  are  boring.  boo,  souls!  ❞

❝  if  we  get  through  this,  is  there  a  thing  where  we,  like,  talk  to  each  other about  stuff…  normally?  ❞

❝  you  mean  you  wanna  talk  about  the  big  shit?  ❞

❝  we  don’t  have  any  feelings,  what  are  you  talking  about?❞

❝  you  sound  deranged.  ❞

❝  i  was  wondering,  do  you  think  it’s  possible  to  sue  a  person  -  a  grandparent,  for  example  -  in  an  affectionate  way?  ❞

❝  i  love  you,  i’m  glad  you’re  part  of  my  life,  but  i’m  taking  legal  action  against  you.  ❞

❝  the  fucking  belligerent  zucchini  here  is  set  to  close  negotiations  for  good.  ❞

❝  you’re  going  to  sue  greenpeace?  i  like  your  style.  who  do  you  think  you’re  going  to  go  after  next,  save  the  children?  ❞

❝  can  he  do  a  speech?  the  demented  fucking piss-mad  king  of  england?  ❞

❝  the  only  way  they’ll  respect  you  is  if  you  try  to  destroy  them.   ❞

❝  you’re  not  a  killer.  you  have  to  be  a  killer.  ❞

❝  family  therapy,  family  therapy,  family  therapy!  ❞

❝  i  have,  like,  twenty  bucks  left.  the  world  is  so  fucked  up.  ❞

❝  your  principles?  don’t  be  an  asshole,  you  don’t  have  principles.  ❞

❝  this  is  not  fucking  charles  dickens  world,  okay?  ❞

❝  i  just  wonder  if  the  sad  i’d  be  without  you  is  less  than  the  sad  i  get  from  being  with  you.  ❞

❝  are  we  talking  to  each  other  on  the  deck  of  a  majestic  schooner?  is  the  salty  brine  stinging  my  weather-beaten  face?  no?  then  why  the  fuck  are  you  wearing  a  pair  of  deck  shoes?  ❞

❝  you  don’t  hear  much  about  syphilis  these  days,  very  much  the  myspace  of  STDS.   ❞

❝  what  i  think  they  meant  to  say  was  that  they  wished  your  mom  gave  birth  to  a  can  opener,  because  then  at  least  it  would  be  useful.  ❞

❝  when  you  laugh,  please  do  it  at  the  same  volume  as  everyone  else.  we  didn’t  get  you  from  a  hyena  farm.  ❞

❝  they  did  once  call  me  the  cunt  of  monte  cristo.    ❞

❝  you  little  slime  puppy.  ❞

❝  don’t  threaten  me,  i  don’t  have  time  to  jerk  off.  ❞

❝  who  said  i  never  killed  anyone?  ❞

❝  i  don’t  mean  to  be  insulting,  but  having  been  around  a  bit,  my  hunch  is  that  you’re  going  to  get  fucked  because  i’ve  seen  you  get  fucked  a  lot.  and  i’ve  never  seen  [name]  get  fucked  once.  ❞

❝  i’d  castrate  you  and  marry  you  in  a  heartbeat.  ❞

❝  i  just  feel  because  of  my  physical  length,  i  could  be  a  target  for  all  kinds  of  misadventures.  ❞

❝  oh  here  they  come,  the  attention  whore.  ❞

❝  do  you  have  a  fetish  for  nearly  killing  our  dad?  like,  just  the  tip,  but  for  nearly  killing  our  dad?  ❞

❝  the  gang’s  all  here,  it’s  like  the  fucking  sgt.  pepper  for  broken  corporate  america.  ❞

❝  you  aren’t  judas-ing,  are  you?  ❞

❝  sometimes  i  think,  should  i  maybe  listen  to  the  things  you  say  directly  in  my  face  when  we’re  at  our  most  intimate?  ❞

❝  are  they  playing  from  the  approved  playlist?  because  my  thing  was  all  bangers,  all  the  time.  ❞

❝  oh  really?  it’s  not  cool  to  tell  the  president  to  blow  me?  ❞

❝  some  guy  with  an  undercut  just  called  me  soy  boy.  ❞

❝  he  never  saw  anything  he  loved  that  he  didn’t  want  to  kick  just  to  see  if  it  still  came  back.  ❞

❝  right  now,  i’m  the  real  you.  ❞

❝  we  should  be  good  people.  wouldn’t  it  be  nice  to  wake  up  in  the morning  and  not  feel  like  a  fucking  piece  of  shit?  ❞

❝  i  think  you’re  a  super  talented  superstar,  and  i  love  you.  ❞

❝  oh,  you’re  such  a  fucking  bitch.  ❞

[hstarke]

@kittytsai setting: some bar, somewhere in nyc

The last he'd heard of Laurel's antagonist, he'd spontaneously disappeared of college campus — some bullshit excuse that a new, better athletic offer had come along, though it stood out as a clear lie to anybody who had been paying attention. As promised, Hans hadn't killed him, not in the physical sense. But one thing's for certain: that boy would never be the same again.

Good.

Throughout his schemes, Hans had found himself often thankful that he wasn't in Kitty's shoes; that he didn't have an innocent girl under his care who men would see as the perfect victim. Except—

A daughter. The news had broken earlier in the week. He's going to have a daughter. It puts both the past and the present into a whole lot of perspective.

"Well, shit," Hans half laughs, at the sight of her. Not only the sight of her, but the sight of her here. "Been a while since I saw you at a place like this." A few many years, to be exact. "I like the dress."

@kittytsai

[hstarke]

@thedocxlevi

At night, the balcony of Hans's penthouse is neither warm nor chill. A breeze comes and goes, occasionally blowing the leafs of plants out of place, but not enough to make them shiver.

The kids are inside, watching some new Disney movie with round eyes glued to the screen. A bottle of whiskey rests on the table between then; the skyline ahead feeding them many points of light.

"So, what's up with you, buddy?" Hans asks. No such thing as beating around the bush. "You've been acting fucking weird lately."

[hstarke]

"You know," he says, "I watched a movie that started exactly like this." Not that cheap quips could miraculously save them from this trap.

With that, Hans rests his briefcase on the floor then, typing away meeting cancellations on his phone as he accepts their momentary fate. "Yeah, yeah — I'm not exactly jumping at the chance to be the next Bond." Alas, Martinis had never been his style. "But you go ahead, buddy. I won't laugh at all."

where: unnamed building, a jammed elevator.

who: halil & open

Like the sound of two tectonic plates colliding, the loud screech of the elevator coming to a halt was deafening. The lights flickering out as the power shuts down completely leaves him and another person to watch each other through the dark red emergency light that casts shadows over them. At first, Halil wonders if this was a piss-poor assassination attempt (an elevator? how uncreative.) but the more that he watches the other, although still not not convinced that they were sent rather than another unfortunate soul, he falls into himself. "tell me, did you do anything to anger Zeus today? Or are we both this unlucky all the time? A more pressing question - how good were you at climbing rope in gym class? Might be our only way out."

[hstarke]

@zaraxkumar setting: wall street

The meeting room buzzes with chatter, high off the signing of dotted lines and the many hands shaken. At first, Hans celebrates at the heart of it, showcasing the exact balance between the humble pride of a hard-working businessman and the boastfulness granted only for the deadliest of Wall Street sharks.

Then, he finds himself skirting to the corners of the room, hoping for a clean out — about a hundred people, down to a very skinny door.

"Congratulations, Kumar," he greets the one person he hadn't yet. "We both just made 'fuck-you' money." The aforementioned skinny door, becomes noticeably clogged. "Don't spend it all in one place, or whatever they say."

[hstarke]

🍇 🍊🥝

🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?  

To put it simply, Hans's childhood is something he'd rather not talk about. There are no memories that he feels are warm enough to earn a place of nostalgia; he had to mature earlier than most, and it had nothing but disastrous effects.

🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes?  

Hans certainly desires people, physical connections and all that comes with it, but romance itself has always been somewhat of a challenge. He has... too many exes to count, and past flings scattered all throughout New York City. With that said, his love life is good — he's found someone who understands what his romance looks like, even if a little unorthodox. They fit pretty perfectly together.

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits,  interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?  

If you get him drunk enough for karaoke or to have a tipsy go at a guitar circle, you'll find Hans actually has a pretty lovely singing voice to him. With that said, it's pretty rare to see it happen.

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   ♡   𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

[hstarke]

It's as though she'd crafted the idea of this boy exclusively for Hans to detest. Kid of a Fortune 500 CFO. Frat president. Enough of an idiot to lay his hands on a girl who didn't want him to. The kind of kid who grew up so privileged, that he had no reason to believe that everything in this world isn't his by birthright. He's the type of boy Hans had hated back in high school, and then again in college. And then again in Wall Street. He would make it a point to feed their worst nightmares back at them on the very same silver spoon they were born suckling on.

Does this mean you're helping Laurel?

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "I'll help. I don't know how yet, but— send me everything you have on him, and I'll have a look at it, alright? I'll see what I can do."

Hans looks down at the whiskey he'd been balancing on his knee. There's one, maybe two sips waiting still. He downs all at once, then abandons the glass on a nearby surface.

Back to Kitty, he finds her gaze, and brushes his thumb lightly over the top of her cheek. He likes this — this trust she has in in. "Please. Don't apologize. It's fine." Hans retrieves his hand, and shifts on the couch. "Couple more of these," — he motions to the empty glass — "to forget about that fucker, at least for tonight?"

[hstarke]

"I dunno," Hans admits. By now, most of those memories had faded; the earlier debates before he'd become a father for certain. "I didn't like any names. He's," —another nod to Adam, all the way across the room— "traditional. His middle name is his father's name; his father's middle name is his grandfather's name. And so fucking on." Beat. "He came up with names, and I hated all of them. I think we decided two days before he was born — out of nowhere, he spurted out 'Henry' and I just liked it."

Hans's eyebrow raises, then. "Yeah, I knew you were security. I didn't know you were FBI." Then, comes a shrug. "US military," he says of himself. "Not that different, is it?"

After he'd been discharged —off the aftermath of injuries he still feels the effects of now—, there had been plenty of placement meetings where he'd been encouraged, over and over, to apply to the Bureau. He couldn't think of a worse path for himself.

Just like that, Hans has dived back into the mental gymnastics which got him here to begin with. He muses on it a little longer. "I wanted it, then I didn't." His own instability, off of a very different life led. A life of trauma —experienced and inflicted—, debauchery, addiction. "Then, I wanted it again. Scared as fuck — but he made it seem easy. So, we did it." Here, a well timed sip of his whiskey. "I don't know if it is. Easy. But now I know half the things I was worried about aren't real." Scoff. "Fucking figure."

"He is a cute kid, I'll give you that." Selim smiles. Although they were still wearing masks, he watches Hans' true mask fall and be replaced with something more human for the first time since they met. The agent grins, able to tell by a picture alone who had fathered the boy in the photo but keeping the question to himself. At one point in time, he and Fatih had toyed with the idea of a surrogate, of starting a family together but Selim had always been adamant on adoption. Now? He wasn't so sure if he wanted children at all. "How'd you pick his name?" As Hans' mask falls, Selim's reappears. "No," He states. "When I was in my early twenties, I wanted to be a father more than anything but now, working for the FBI, doing what I do specifically, I don't know if I want to expose a child to that kind of instability."

[hstarke]

It's as though she'd crafted the idea of this boy exclusively for Hans to detest. Kid of a Fortune 500 CFO. Frat president. Enough of an idiot to lay his hands on a girl who didn't want him to. The kind of kid who grew up so privileged, that he had no reason to believe that everything in this world isn't his by birthright. He's the type of boy Hans had hated back in high school, and then again in college. And then again in Wall Street. He would make it a point to feed their worst nightmares back at them on the very same silver spoon they were born suckling on.

Does this mean you're helping Laurel?

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "I'll help. I don't know how yet, but— send me everything you have on him, and I'll have a look at it, alright? I'll see what I can do."

Hans looks down at the whiskey he'd been balancing on his knee. There's one, maybe two sips waiting still. He downs all at once, then abandons the glass on a nearby surface.

Back to Kitty, he finds her gaze, and brushes his thumb lightly over the top of her cheek. He likes this — this trust she has in in. "Please. Don't apologize. It's fine." Hans retrieves his hand, and shifts on the couch. "Couple more of these," — he motions to the empty glass — "to forget about that fucker, at least for tonight?"

There was the ruthless Kitty had been after all along. In all of their back and forth, it was the first time she'd found solace in her heart—some assurance that Hans might truly understand the assignment. Everything Hans begins to describe is exactly the way Kitty realizes she wants the boy to feel. He wasn't about to get away with being a predator; he was about to learn what it meant to be prey. In all of Kitty's years, she never thought she would resort to thoughts that were lacking in so much conscience. That all went out the door the second she became a mother.

But even so, from the exterior, Kitty offered nothing but a form of sadness in her eyes as she looked back at Hans. Because that's who she presented herself as best. It was her form of manipulation to use her appearance as a damsel, vulnerable and pliable, as a method of persuasion. Even if in the company of someone as old in her life as Hans was, she was always just after what she wanted out of something or someone. When finally asked about the perpetrator's identity, the softness in her seemed to fade.

"Kid of some Fortune 500 CFO. You might know him. I hired a PI to follow him around. Junior year at Stanford, frat president– he wouldn't be hard to find. — Does this mean you're helping Laurel?" Beneath everything prideful, flirtatious and wrong about Hans is this layer that Kitty always tries to sees a friend in. In those moments, it felt like she'd seen glimpses of it here and there. A friend. Someone she might actually trust. "I'm sorry I burdened you with this mess." And it was mostly genuine because she does feel disgusted by herself for involving him in the incident at all; she didn't like relying on anyone—least of all, a man.

@hstarke

[hstarke]

"Yeah, yeah," Hans starts, a clear change in demeanor from mere moments before. His voice, his gaze, even his posture — the showcase of a shapeshifting man who appears now nothing like the Wall Street shark Selim had originally known. Whatever life the banker leads, it's clear, there is a definite separation from this. "That's our little guy. Henry. He's two and a half." At the mention of his son's name, there's no fighting off a smile — no matter how hard he tried. "He's cute as fuck."

With his phone back in a pocket, he raises a brow back at Selim. "You got any?"

"Physically, yeah - Mentally? I'm still working on it." The agent admits, lifting his own glass to whatever it was they were toasting to. Despite being outwardly proud of everything he had accomplished to wiggle his way out of the place that his parents had left him, he still struggled with the remnants of complex trauma; remnants that he might never be able to truly shake. The anger he held for that child who was wronged and the sense of protection that came with it, that was the feeling that kept him motivated to do his job; to protect kids at all costs.

He's grateful for the distraction of still memories, watching with genuine interest as Hans flips through a series of photographs. They did look good together, he decides, an empathetic emotion seeping into the softest places of his heart; from what he knew of Hans, even with his lack of filter and nonsensical crap, he deserved every bit of happiness that he held. "Is he your's? The child."

[hstarke]

"Yeah," he says, "it does. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for 'slutty' — but it's not really something a senator should be wearing, is it?" Beat, and a shrug. "People talk."

As Claire nods to a different man, Hans follows her gaze — therefore following him, too. "Sure, go for it."

Claire took a step closer and whispered close to his ear, the music rather loud. "You didn't answer my question." Claire pulled back and smiled as she took a sip of her drink and looked around. "This dress." she mentioned to what she was wearing. "Looks slutty to you?" She tilted her head. "I think it looks rather classy." She mentioned. "Although, it does show everything, so I have nothing on underneath it."

Claire looked around the room, seeing new adventures come in she nodded over. "What about him?"

[hstarke]

Handcuffs. A blindfold. Hans couldn't think of a worse nightmare if he tried.

"Yeah, yeah, well — if you were twenty years younger and I was a spineless sub, I'm sure we'd have a great time. But you're not, and I'm not, so." Hans pulls his very best faux-sad-face, as the cherry on top. Back to his whiskey, he goes. "Maybe next election season."

All the words he said, echoed in her ears and sent shivers down her spine, she wished he would. Laughing, Claire placed a hand to her chest as if she was offended. "Easy?" she reiterated. "Oh honey, I'm far from easy, and my husband is gone, moved out three days ago. I don't care about him but fucking your husband I would."

The next thing out of her mouth, "have you ever been Eiffel Towered?" She asked with a smile. "I'm not begging, I'm asking you, what would you do to me? I'm not asking you to fuck me. I was just asking. If we were alone, I'd take the handcuffs out of my purse, and cuff you to a chair and use my 'slutty dress' as you call it, to blind fold you as I ride you."

[hstarke]

For a split second, Hans does consider whether he should entertain this further. Throw some lewd fantasy at her, whisper the exact words she wants to hear, and drive her wet with words alone. Even if he doesn't want her body, there's a high just on becoming the forbidden subject of her desire.

"What I would do?" Hans echoes, following the curvature of her lips to make sure he heard her right. Then, he allows himself to swim into memory of sex partners past; the countless women he'd brought home and branded his for the night. "I would take you somewhere private — a hotel room, my home, or yours. I'd tear that slutty fucking outfit out of you, eat you out, then fuck you senseless." There are details in between the lines, but Hans is no poet — he's better at doing, than explaining.

Hans stares her down, then shrugs. "But you're just... easy. There's no chase. There's no convincing you to ditch your loser, small-dicked husband to come ride mine. You're practically begging to be fucked, and I like a little hard to get." An amused roll of his eyes follows. "Sue me."

Claire gave the gentleman a sly smile. She twirled the liquid around in her glass as she looked down. "He isn't handsome, put together, and he doesn't look like someone who has a sharp tongue. I like my men to be submissive, but sometimes dominate, he doesn't look like that, he looks like a mamas boy." She replied before sipping her drink.

Claire stood up and stood in front of the gentleman that sat next to her. "I don't want to talk about my husband anymore. I want to talk about what you would do to me?" She asked. "I'm feeling like being dominated tonight." she whispered.

[hstarke]

"No shit, he isn't," he scoffs as though it's obvious. The compliment does glaze over him ever satisfyingly. Of course, had had already studied every man in the room, and decided he beat them by a mile. Then comes the Senator — as if his ego needed any more stroking.

He supposes that's a no on her adventure with the stranger. And a yes to her occupying the seat next to him a while longer. "I'm not really therapist material, though. So if you wanna keep talking about your husband, just know all I'll do is smile and nod." He take a mouthful of whiskey, then downs it swiftly. "Scratch that — I'll nod, and make some sort of unimpressed face. Unless you wanna talk about something else."

Claire shrugs of his statement and just continues to drink from her glass. "Well, he's not you." She mentioned and looked over at him.

[hstarke]

"He brings flowers," Hans repeats the words, slowly. "To a stripclub." Shit, some people really are lonely. "Don't get me wrong— I'm not anti-romance or anything, but that sounds like a restraining order waiting to happen."

"Yeah, I'm done with my run. Headed that way," he motions vaguely, "then I'm getting ready for work. Dollar bills aren't gonna print themselves." Get it?

He picks his phone off the bench, and slides it into the pocket of his running shorts. "If you wanna walk with me to Woodman's Gate, then be my guest." He stares at Coco. "And you too."

"believe it or not, i don't consider you one of the creeps. you're one of the few people that i am not immediately repulsed by when i see enter the club." it had been lucky for her that she had not run into any clients outside of the club up to this point.

"second," she reconfirms, softly smiling. "you are important, hun. but my number one brings me flowers. what can i say? it's the little things in life." her tone is light, soft, and playful. honestly, hans was above flower guy.

"i'm starting to think you don't sleep." in her defense she mostly saw him in the late hours of the night at the club. she looked down to coco who had finished up her water and was now once more getting curious about the man. "as much as it'll pain my girl coco here, we will leave you to your run." she paused, looking up to him, "unless you'd be interested in a morning walk today instead of your usual run, you'd be more than welcomed to join us on ours."