#𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. / calla

[famxshedsaints]

➼ where : deseo ➼ who : @wcstlcys ( wesley )

in truth, she doesn't expect any sort of vip requests tonight. with the amount of people flowing in and out of the doors, the outstretched hands all clutching bills, the roaring hum of needs and wants and refusals to hear no, she figures it will be all hands on deck on the main stage, on the floor, around the bar. so when it's whispered in her ear that she's being requested, it takes her out of character long enough for her brows to furrow before she's doing as she's bid and weaving her way through the crowd to find one of the little sublet sofas along the side of the room. by the time she makes it, her face is corrected, smile back in place, but confusion still reigns . . . until she spots the who of the scenario. friendship, it seems, has evaded her most of her life, but like much else since she's settled in straton, that's different here, too. smile turns more genuine as hazel hues land on him. she climbs on the sofa next to him, backside on on bent legs, head angling. "i thought you would be too busy tonight to come by and shop talk with me, sir." lingering smile shows how grateful she is to be wrong.

[famxshedsaints]

there's a sly smile, brows raised, on her face when he asks her the question usually reserved for paying customers. it's probably her fault for sitting at the bar, pretending she's not actually on the clock, swinging her feet like she isn't due to be on the stage again in half an hour . . . but, sometimes she simply can't help herself from slacking off. it's like it's in her blood. her grin widens even further before she opens those lips to respond. "we're always feeling reckless, i fear." leaning forward she props her elbows on the bar, chin on balled fists. "but it's kind of mean to offer me a drink when we know i can't have one yet." out here at least.

STARTER: open — capping at ( 01 / 06 ) WHERE AND WHEN: deseo, around 8pm or so.

. . . . . ╰──╮ the music is loud, the air thick with smoke and laughter, the kind of night that promises trouble before it even really begins. deseo is packed, the bar drowning in orders, and jett is in his element – moving fast, pouring drinks, trading easy grins with familiar faces.

he leans against the counter, forearms resting on the polished wood, and looks at the person across from him. his smile is lazy, teasing, the kind that makes it seem like he’s got all the time in the world when, really, he doesn’t.

❛ — so, what’s it gonna be tonight? ❜ he asks, tapping his fingers against the bar top. ❛ — something strong? something smooth? or are we feeling reckless? ❜

[famxshedsaints]

➼ where : deseo ➼ who : @tempor4ry ( kristian )

a job is a job is a job, but calla ? well, she loves her job. flitting around on the unending bass notes and through the always moving lights, her outfit sparkles and glistens with each twirl, each flick of her less than covered hips. she loves the attention she gets just by moving, and so, she simply doesn't stop. hazel eyes are always on the move, hoping to find an unsuspecting soul with a loose wallet at all times, but sometimes she finds a face worth stopping simply to admire. that's what she finds with them. grin turns cheshire as feet stop in front of them, hand rises to slide one finger down their chest, and she's just about to squat and really start work when she realizes. "oh my god? are you the trainer from the quad?" all dancing stops, eyes widen in anticipation. "oh, fuck, say yes or I'm going to just . . . keep dancing like i didn't say a word!"

[famxshedsaints]

OPEN STARTER

➼ where: deseo ➼ when: during both parties

bass thrums through the floorboards and up through her bare feet. she feels it in her molars, in her rib cage, in the hollow between her collarbones. the mirrors that line the walls multiply her into infinity, a hundred callas, a thousand, each with the same dark brown hair cascading over bare shoulders, each with the same chocolate eyes rimmed in soot, staring back with an intensity that doesn't quite match the smile she practices. ten months at deseo, and still the mirrors unnerve her. too many reflections. too many versions of herself. she lays out her costume pieces with methodical precision on the small vanity. her fingers hover over each item. the precision soothes her. in the religious household where she grew up, chaos was a sin. order was godliness. control was love. here in this den of supposed sin, she finds herself clinging to those same rituals, though the purpose has changed. now, precision is armor.

she slides the corset around her torso, feeling the cool satin against her skin. the structure of it calms her racing thoughts. she reaches behind to fasten it, muscle memory guiding her fingers to the zipper pull. it moves up an inch, two, then catches. she tries again. the zipper doesn't budge.a small breath escapes her lips, not quite a sigh. she twists her body, trying to see the problem in the mirror. the zipper appears to be caught on a thread, the corset hanging half on her body, neither on nor off, a state of limbo that feels suddenly significant. her fingers fumble with the zipper again, more forcefully this time to no avail.

in the mirror, her eyes widen. she sees herself— not the dancer she's become, but the girl she once was, standing in a darkened room in her parents' house, the door locked from the outside. a punishment for a transgression so minor she can't even recall it now. what she remembers is the tightness in her chest, the sense of walls closing in, of time stretching endlessly before her. she blinks, and the memory dissolves, leaving only her reflection— half-dressed, half-undone. 

“fuck,” she breathes the word, standing before she can fully release the idea, grabbing the silk robe over the back of her chair and moving out of the dressing room into the corridor. as busy as the night is, it doesn’t take long for her to spot someone. someone who likely isn’t here to help her, but desperate times. 

“psst,” she calls. then, “psst.” even louder the second time, enough to make them look. when they do? slender hand rises to crook a finger at them, beckoning the unsuspecting soul inside with her. and when they do, off comes the silk robe. calla turns, hair tossed over her shoulder to show the snagged zipper. 

“help a desperate girl out?” 

[famxshedsaints]

where: idk a sketchy motel ! who: @anrchys ( diago )

calla perches on the edge of the motel bed, her fingertips tracing patterns on the polyester comforter that's worn thin from too many washings. the faded flowers beneath her hands seem to pulse with each tick of the plastic clock on the nightstand. seven minutes past eleven. she rises, unable to stay still, pacing the cramped room. number 17 at the local has become a strange sort of sanctuary over the past few months— neutral territory where neither her past nor present can fully claim her. or him. the walls are the pale yellow of old newspaper, and the air conditioner rattles with a wheeze that has become as familiar as her own breath. she stops at the window, parts the cheap curtains with two fingers. no sign of his bike. she lets the curtain fall, steps back. her reflection in the vanity mirror catches her eye. dark circles cupping her chocolate brown eyes, her hair falling in tangled waves past her shoulders. she doesn't recognize the woman staring back at her. sometimes, that feels like victory. the bedsprings creak as she sits again, drawing her knees to her chest. her phone says 11:23 now. she could leave. should leave, probably. the club has been good to her in their way: protection, a sense of belonging she's never had before, but ten months isn't long enough to truly know where loyalties end. if tonight's fight escalates, if police get involved, maybe it's smarter to distance herself. start over again. she's done it before. the sound of the doorknob turning freezes her thoughts in place. her breath catches, suspended between fear and hope. the lock disengages with a metallic click that seems to echo in the sudden silence of the room. the door swings open, and diego stands in the frame, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the parking lot. she pauses, not moving just yet. “i was scared you weren’t going to be able to get away.”

[famxshedsaints]

➼ where : hell's gate ➼ who : @ridcersa ( rina )

sitting criss cross apple sauce, she can't help but hum as she plays the card game. alone. red or black, high or low, a drink for each time she gets it wrong. solitude was something she learned to combat young, and though she's at a party thriving, sometimes she finds herself sneaking off for a little reprieve of a moment alone to recenter. she's dancing, swaying back and forth, when she senses someone standing above her. hazel eyes rise, grin splaying on her face as recognition dawns. "rina," she calls, sing song tone on her tongue. "do you want to play with me? i can deal for 2." shoulder lifts, a little wiggle too, as if to entice the other more.

[famxshedsaints]

➼ where : hell's gate ➼ who : @hellsblls ( camryn )

there's a lackadaisical lounge to the way she perches on the bar, feet swinging to and fro, eyes low, thanks to the joint she just snubbed out and one hand full of the drink she's nursing ( tequila, rocks, a tajin rim that she licks before every sip ). the other slips out when she spots him, catching his elbow as he slips through the crowd right in front of her. ignoring whatever expression he wears when he turns to see her, she smiles sweetly down at him, leaning forward so she doesn't have to yell at him to be heard. "are you avoiding me, camryn morgan?" the answer, in truth, doesn't matter much to her. she's no stranger to having to make her presence known to be seen, to be acknowledged. and with him? she can't help but push the envelope a little bit further each time she catches him all to herself. "because i could have sworn i told you to come have a drink with me earlier only to turn around and find you gone." eyes narrow, though no heat can be found, and even worse? her lips twist into a grin dying to stretch her lips out. kind of ruins the ruse.

[famxshedsaints]

the prospect of making money, of being seen, of finding worth in the center of a din of iniquity ( charmingly ironic as the thought is ) should be enough to keep her focus laser, and yet . . . she finds herself unable to stop searching the throngs of people for familiar eyes, as if, perhaps, she dances just for the off chance they came for her tonight. calla came to this town, wandered the country, in search of a reason to believe herself whole, worthy on her own, so to admit she's back to old habits, of being willing to beg on both knees for a shred of pride on the face of someone she, perhaps prematurely, deemed high on her list of reasons to go on. dance after dance, internal reprimand on top of the next, she tells herself he won't come, he won't, he will not.

then, of course, right when she's given up hoping at all, she feels him. always feels him first, a gaze heavy like a claim his mouth won't form words to say, it takes no time for her eyes to scan the room to find him. because she likes to appear at least a bit professional, she takes more time making her way to him. the dance never stops, not even when she's close enough to reach out and touch. of course, she doesn't. not here. not yet.

a small pout forms on painted lips. "won't lie to you, sweetheart." as she moves around him, she whispers in his ear. "I'm actively going to try and change your mind on that." there's an obvious smile in her words, even if he isn't looking right at her to see it.

( in deseo's ) : a god damn addict , it's the only explanation . masochistic and martyr , a man of man angers and sins and so much hate , and he finds himself all but kneeling at the feet of woman who is so much of the opposite . so full of light , and not the neon she is so often cloaked in . but of course she's from across that damned line , wasn't he warned that the devil comes dressed as everything you've ever wanted ? now he stands there , merely a shadow tucked into a dark corner of the club - a place he shouldn't be , he ought to be with his own - watching . eyes never leave her , but somehow he is careful to keep attention on those in her path and her wake , any wandering hands where they shouldn't be . but always , always on her , first . this is why , despite body turned away , he's well aware when she's drawing near . greets her with not much more than him twisting in her direction and a nod . " i'm not staying here long . " / @famxshedsaints .

[famxshedsaints]

bewildered and confused expression dawns on her features at the initial question. did she not think this was serious? were her issues just not... what? normal enough? brows drawn together still, she shrugs. "i mean, i just don't want to go out there looking like raggedy anne, you know." gaze moves back to the mirrors, hands trying to move the corset back in place, shoulders lifting and falling with a small huff. "i must have taken you from something really serious if you're going on like that?" the smell of alcohol wafts ups to her, and that, suddenly, helps her understand. she doesn't say as much, knowing calling out the other for being inebriated when her own edges are fuzzed from an assortment of pills taken before her shift was more hypocritical than she would ever be comfortable with. "you are a knight in shining sequins," she teases, doing a small twirl when the zipper is up and the outfit is snug. turns to face her, nodding as the smile grows wider on her face. "i'll buy you two just to change your mind about the memories being good." her head cants to the side, dark waves falling over her shoulder. "are you okay?" a pause. "you don't have to answer, of course, i'm just sensing a. . . vibe."

isobel leaned against the doorframe, the warmth of the club buzzing in her veins, her mind swimming from too much alcohol. she squinted at calla, half-dressed, half-undone, and couldn't help but grin, despite the haze clouding her thoughts. “really? this is what you need help with?” she slurred, pushing herself off the doorframe. “you know, i thought we’d be getting into trouble for much worse tonight, but sure, i’ll help you out.” she swayed a little, trying to focus on the zipper, her fingers a little too slow. “i’ve rescued people from worse, though i can’t promise anything. last time, i locked myself in a car trying to help some guy get out. let’s just say, that didn’t end well.”

her tipsy hands fumbled with the zipper as she leaned in closer. “look, if you need me to curse at it until it feels guilty, i’m your girl. but i’m pretty sure i’m about to break the zipper, not just fix it.” she gave an exaggerated sigh, more amused than frustrated, even as the alcohol muddled her focus. “i always thought i’d be the one stuck in situations like this, but here i am. your knight in shining... whatever this is.” despite the odd, slow dance of sobriety and intoxication, isobel managed to get the zipper moving, her smile wide. “you owe me a drink for this,” she teased, standing up a little straighter. “i’m starting to think we’re making memories tonight... and none of them will be good.”

[famxshedsaints]

at first, for a slight moment, she worries she found the wrong person to help with this. the way the zipper slides down a smidge, it mirrors the way her stomach drops, but she doesn’t say anything, almost like she knows she can’t. because she does know that. she’s always known that, hasn’t she? her opinion comes second to others, her pain, her unease, but luckily this time she doesn’t have to dwell in it. she exhales a small breath when the garment zips all the way up, when she feels snug inside the sequined corset. hand smooths down the front, admiring how much better she looks now in the hundreds of mirrored reflections around her. hazel eyes lift to find his, impish grin on her face.  “you might be an angel for this.” she says it with a straight face, like he isn’t standing there looking like an actual angel of death. most of the club members in the town carry that same hollowed out, dangerous look, so maybe that’s why she felt safe enough to invite him in her with her in a state of such undress. turning, she faces him full on, arms out. “you can’t tell what i am?” brow furrows slightly, a tease, though she does feel like it’s obvious. reaching to the side, she grabs a matching top hat that has a sparkly black bow attacked, holding in on her head, then raising it like she’s already dancing. “come on! didn’t you watch alice in wonderland?” her eyes widen. “i’m going to be the mad hatter.” eyes roll. “well, the naked version, anyway. i can’t believe that didn’t read.” 

He was a goddamn idiot.

They didn't call it liquid courage for nothing, though.

Lee had a habit of being a little raucous. It was what earned him his title within the Reapers, what made him stand out among the patches for more than the legacy he carried. Back home, or rather now at The Forge, Santiago Sepúlveda was proud that his only grandson had carried on the legacy - surpassed it. Santi himself had never gotten titled beyond patch, never had anything extra adorning his kutte. And yet Lee had been ballsy enough, maybe dumb enough, to do really anything the Reapers had asked. Clawed his way up. Here he was, third biggest title in the MC and acting like a fucking fool.

Kendra had made it clear in no uncertain terms that their relationship had come to a full stop. But of course she had to go and revamp Deseo, make it the kind of place Lee would like to visit in his spare time but! But he respected the distance they both needed, even years after their divorce had been finalized. Of course he knew she was in town. He'd known the moment she reappeared, as if he could sense it. Spider-man felt danger, Lee felt his stomach drop. It was a one for one match.

And here he was, stepping foot in the very place he'd avoided for years. And how was that fair? That Kendra could take the things so many of his brothers and sisters found enticing and dangle it in front of him like a cat toy. Fucker.

He was nosy by nature. Tipsy and slipping into the staff only section of the venue was easier than it should have been (Kendra needed better security) and he was feeling, admittedly, a little claustrophobic. Now don't get him wrong! Tight spaces didn't bother him! But the need for a cigarette (or forty) clawed at the back of his neck and the way the world swam slightly, the bass compounding that even if it was muffled - he was headed for the back door to book it the fuck out of dodge before he was seen by the worst person to see him.

Then he heard it. Not once, but twice. And out of his reverie he yanked, plummeted back down to earth where he realized in sudden sobriety (however momentary) that he was not somewhere he should have ever been. Lee cleared his throat, screwed up his brows, and analyzed the moment.

Oh? Color him curious. He followed into just the doorway of the dressing room and watch the dancer turn, drop her robe enough to indicate the problem, and he felt himself chuckle at the back of his throat.

Easy enough.

"I always wondered how people zipped themselves into this shit. Guess I know, now."

Thick fingers grabbed the zipper track at the middle and pinched. His other hand grabbed the actual zip itself and - with surprising gentleness - he worked it free from the fabric. No tear, no snag. At first he zipped down just the slightest to make sure the track was truly free before it went up ---sealing her into whatever character she was becoming.

"All good."

[famxshedsaints]

"well, i'm asking." the answer comes almost immediately, thanks to the lazy smile that accompanies the question. her will will never be made of steel, it's true, but at work she usually has more control over her whims. usually. there are certain instances, certain faces, words, attention that can throw her off kilter. calla realizes a bit too late that this one, this body, this face, this being, is one of those. her eyes don't have the sense to look sheepish when they move up to meet theirs again, instead holding more curiosity and intrigue than calls for wanting a big tip. her head tilts to one side, sending a wave of raven waves tumbling over her shoulder. her grin only grows tenfold, shoulders lifting, head shaking before she answers. "no, we haven't, but. . . i saw you when i went to sign up for a membership." the thought strikes her, causing the smile to fall a bit. "not that i was, like, being weird about it, or anything? you just, you have such a nice face, i'm sure people stop to look all the time. right?" a pause. "no, don't answer that." another pause. "i'm actually going to shut up and start dancing again if that's okay."

they  weren't  really  a  regular,  given  the  strip  club's  intricate  placement  right  in  the  middle  of  a  border  between  two  towns.  however,  a  celebration  like  this  one  simply  called  for  a  visit.  and  so,  kris  allowed  themselves  one.  the  performances  were  yet  to  disappoint  &  the  club's  wings  were  actually  delicious,  ensuring  a  pleasant  night.  not  to  mention  the  discounts  on  drinks.  the  trainer  found  themselves  loosening  up  while  nursing  a  glass  of  bourbon  on  the rocks,  keeping  their  gaze  fixed  on  the  stage  before  them  or,  specifically  the  dancer,  who  currently  demanded  their  attention  with  her  ever  striking  presence.  hazel  eyes  followed  each  choreographed  yet  graceful  movement  of  the  performer,  slowly  getting  dragged  into  the  captivating  moment  only  for  it  end  up  abruptly  interrupted.  kris  blinked  once,  processing  the  question  the  woman  thrown  their  way.   ❝   depends  who  is  asking…   ❞   they  replied,  tiny  lazy  smile  tugging  at  the  corner  of  their  lips.   ❝   i  might  be.   ❞   now  intrigued,  kris  slowly  leaned  forward  somewhat,  wanting  to  take  in  the  other's  face  properly.   ❝    have  we  met  before?    ❞

[famxshedsaints]

the admission lights up her face even more, warms her chest, and that feeling moves up her throat, tinting her cheeks even under the glow of the neon lights in the club. "stop buttering me up ! you know i'm easily wooed." hand lightly smacks at his arm, eyes roll, all affection, no bite. with an all too telling ease, she settles in beside him, shoulders lifting and falling as she hums before being able to find her words. "really, really good, actually." nodding, she means it, too. "everyone, and i mean everyone, seems to be in a great mood which is a relief because, as i'm sure you know, when there's a mixed bag things can get. . ." trails off because she tries, so so hard, not to dip into talking about their outside-of-here activities. doesn't always work, now does it. adoration in her gaze, she leans forward to kiss his cheek, then settles again. "you're such a sweetheart, checking on me when i know you have other things you could be doing."

he wondered at times if he should feel bad, the way he dangled this friendship for his own gain. he liked her enough to keep it up, but at the end of the day it was a means to an end. so there he sat, waiting patiently as he slouched down into the sofa. he requested calla specifically, not interested in much else than his hidden agenda. he straightened up when he saw her, albeit hardly, a sloppy grin forming on his lips. showtime. " i ain't too busy for you. " he throws in sweetly, the deception far too easy. it was a lie, of course, but he had no intentions of making that known to her anytime soon. " how's your night been then ?? " false pleasantries were necessary, and he was getting better at faking it the longer this friendship dragged out. " hope you can catch a break for a second, y'know, since i'm here. "