LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Jun 1, 2022 19:28:34 GMT
ANGE likes this
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Jun 1, 2022 19:28:34 GMT
 ━ i'm something bad ━
And if she was here (doing this favour for C*nt-thia), then she had to pay for a fucking babysitter, which meant she was losing money either way (not that she’d let anybody at work know she had that problem). She didn’t want a God damn date; she just wanted to exist in Mystic Falls and not get called by her kid’s name or be treated as the enemy by her sister.
But whatever, Michael was supposed to be a nice guy and either an author or an illustrator (Cynthia couldn’t remember, but what the fuck nevertheless) who worked under her husband. Lucky’s plan was to suffer through the date, get a free meal, then tell Cynthia they ‘just didn’t click.’ But at least she went, right? That had to count for something━at least an extra shift.
But it all balanced on whether or not Lucky could keep dinner down. She’d felt like shit last week, incredibly sick as if Lucille had been picked up and dropped into another state, but the sickness was worse than anything she’d experienced before. She’d never actually thrown up from it━until last week.
And she felt angry at the oddest of times, swore she could hear someone divulging all the nasty secrets about that club in town, and started feeling wary about it. Lucky couldn’t figure out whether she was suspicious of the club now or if someone else was. It wouldn’t be Lucille━that didn’t make sense.
She kept pretending it wasn’t happening. It was easier to chalk this up to being under the weather than diving into any deeper meaning. Lucky was getting her fucking free meal tonight no matter what.
Sitting at the bar with her summer dress hanging almost shapelessly from her frame, showing off her dainty, pale shoulders and defined collarbones, Lucky frowned into her glass. She wasn’t entertaining the thought of any other man entering her life, especially not one that lived in Mystic fucking Falls. The ones here were temporary fun━especially when she got to spend a whole night drinking champagne and shit-talking her sister’s boss━if even that. Small towns were the fucking worst.
Sometimes she still missed Patrick… even if he was a piece of shit who’d fucking abandoned her just like her sister did. But being in Mystic Falls proved that something like that could be forgiven.
Her back was to the door, but she felt coolness enter in a gust of air, forcing a shiver through her. With it came peace in her body, though, like suddenly she could breathe again without worrying about throwing up. Lucky took a sip of her drink to send warmth to her bare shoulders and wondered why she’d bothered curling her hair for this.
Then she heard it. His voice brought the queasiness back in another way, like her stomach lurching into her throat.
Turning on her stool, Lucky raised her brows at ‘Michael’━who was really Mitchell━and the girl who wasn’t ‘Lucy.’ “You’ve gotta be fucking joking.” She frowned, irritated with the multitude of unwanted revelations. “Fucking Cynthia.” Lucky hissed, shaking her head. “I really thought Michael would end up being more fun by the end of the night, but I guess that’s just not in the cards for me.” She added, sliding off her stool and walking up to face him like she was ready for a boxing match. “You’re dodging a bullet by not being ‘Lucy,’ hun, trust me.” Lucky muttered to the woman before her dark eyes ticked back up to Mitch’s.
MITCHELL DAVIS |  |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Jun 12, 2022 17:16:20 GMT
Dipping back into the car, Mitch retrieved his sport coat from where it’d been hanging from the chicken strap in the back seat. Probably a step too far to worry about with a date he’d practically been blackmailed into. Jnr would’ve been applauded the ease with which Aloysius (who the fuck was called Aloysius these days?) had talked him into it.
Mitch puffed out a breath as he slipped into it, smoothing down the lapel before he did the quick pat down to make sure he wasn’t gonna have to leave Lucy alone at the table to run back for his wallet or his phone. The latter wasn’t likely to ring unless Al (he’d insisted, Aloysius was so dusty) called to see how the date was going but the hangover stuck. For more than a decade he’d been beholden to the military gods, that line a chain around his neck to be yanked whenever shit started to go sideways somewhere.
Teeth raking over his lower lip Mitch closed the door, thumbed the remote to lock the car on his way across the sidewalk. Nights like this he missed it, that chain was almost a guarantee that the painfully long nights would be shattered. There was no better excuse to step out than ‘so sorry, my country needs me’. That way they were impressed, not bitching about him vanishing before dessert.
That wasn’t to say his life wasn’t bitch free…
His hand smoothed over his chest, like he was gonna find a smear of pancake batter on the front of the black t-shirt – the fifty dollar t-shirt thank you very much tiny, raging leprechaun - as he slipped through the door into the restaurant. He’d gone into the shower after she’d stormed out of his apartment, taking the energy of someone five times her size with her, almost expecting to find his back stripped raw from the combo of biting nails and that razor sharp tongue.
Thank fuck Lucy was supposed to be a sweetheart. A sweetheart, very hard working, very pretty. The latter spoken with a wink as though that would be the cherry on top of the perfect package Sunday. Still, Mitch had found himself resisting a minute longer. After a week out in Savannah – a combo research and college talk trip – he could’ve done with the couch, a pizza and a couple of beers. No club. No risk that he’d run back into the chainsaw of Lucky’s mouth or the tight rope walk of another night down in the bowls of the place with Hannya.
He held the door open for a redhead heading out in a rush, wondered for a second if Lucy had taken one look at him and had bolted but Al had said brunette. Dainty. ”Fantastic description, Al, for an editor you’re a real fuckin’ Tennessee Williams.” His mutter had the hostess looking up at him, a polite smile on her face but Mitch waved her off for the moment. Al had said he’d get Cynthia to have Lucy wait at the bar for him – less formal than the table after all. The man had clapped his shoulder at that, laughing and squawking something about those muscles.
Those muscles tight enough leave his joints aching as he approached the start of the bar. A brunette, curves packed into a coppery sheath that looked like it’d melt right off at the slightest touch. His smile curved warmly as he dipped his head and held out a hand. ”Lucy? I’m Mitch…” The woman’s dark brows furrowed, leaving Mitch frowning right back at her. ”Mitchell?” That continued confusion until the bark of a voice along the bar had her tossing a look over her shoulder.
Fucking Al.
Face puckering, Mitch propped a hand on the edge of the bar and curled over like he was about to hurl on his shoes instead of spit epithets like balls of lava. Hot in his throat, venomous as ‘Lucy’. ”Hey, and there I was thinking maybe I’d get a nice girl, one with a civil tongue in her mouth … and you know, some charm.” He’d have tossed that comment back at her about coming up to his navel and having about as much curve to her as an iron board but that hadn’t come into it that second time. There’d been plenty to get his hands and mouth on, even if she hadn’t seemed to appreciate it anymore than that first time her brain was still twisted up on.
Mitch straightened up as she approached, his smile going sweet. Not-Lucy snatched up her purse from the bar top, squirming out between the two of them with it held high like a shield. He stared imperiously down at his foul mouthed-leprechaun, arms crossing over his chest. ”Maybe she’s the lucky one,” he crooned lightly. ”Cause I sure as hell wasn’t. Cynthia huh? Doin’ me a favour by trying to hook me up with the biggest bitch at her club?” Aloysius was worse, acting like this was all some sorta treat for doing so well last week. An amazing night, since you know, maybe it was time he settled down. Men who were still confirmed bachelors when they hit 40 were a little sus after all. Like he was anywhere near that.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Jun 20, 2022 14:43:42 GMT
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Jun 20, 2022 14:43:42 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
Now, all she had was needling a guy she’d already used and discarded. He was like the long-forgotten shit on the side of the highway; people lost them and never bothered to go back.
Cynthia’s husband━God, Lucky couldn’t even remember his name, only that when she’d heard it, it was the first time she’d ever been thankful that hers was Lucky━was clearly an idiot. Or maybe they were the perfect couple, two fucking brainless geriatrics who liked shoving together the worst possible matches. Seriously, did Cynthia really believe anyone could like this asshole? “It’s a casino, not a club. I guess you wouldn’t know the difference; I doubt you could do the simplest math even if a few grand was on the line.” You couldn’t be a total dumbass to get into the military, though Lucky assumed his family connections didn’t hurt his entry application━if he even had to do one.
Her teeth gritted at the tease of her name again, dark eyes narrowing up at Mitch. “What did I say would happen if you made another joke about my name?” A cocktail olive toothpick in the eye, that’s what. Or maybe just stabbed with it━she was probably adding the eye part after the fact. Lucky grabbed Not-Lucy’s abandoned girly-looking drink and plucked up the little umbrella that sat inside, turning it around to face the pointed end towards him. “This’ll have to do.” She muttered.
Unfortunately, being bonded to him (somehow) meant she’d feel any significant changes in his body’s, well, chemistry. Getting impaled by a toothpick probably fucked you up a bit, right? Either way, Lucky would feel it herself if she stabbed him, and it would almost be worth it. Almost.
Changing her tune at the last moment, Lucky downed the bright pink, sparkly (was that even edible?) liquid in one gulp, grimaced, and dropped the glass back on the bar, umbrella in tow. “Well, I booked off the night, so let’s go make the most of it, huh?” The glare that seemed permanently shot in his direction suddenly became a mischievous grin. She turned, saying a light, “Do something fun,” Fun meant illegal (if she could press him into it), likely bringing up Mitch’s dad or his manhood━anything that might spur him on.
Lucky began her strut to the door, adding, “Don’t panic; if we get caught, you can always just change your face, right?” over her shoulder as if it was no secret at all.
MITCHELL DAVIS |  |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Jul 14, 2022 21:12:56 GMT
Either Aloysius was fucking touched in the head - his genius when it came to marketing a cover for lunacy in other regards – or it was his wife who needed a little professional help. It’d been hard to tell just which one of them had been the string puller in this. Maybe a little of both, but surely … if Al had met Lucky and heard that mouth start shrieking … he wouldn’t have tried to pair the two of them up. It was trying to toss James Bond to a jackal in a flowery dress, hoping he’d pull something prettier out of her than a cackle and those teeth.
Mitch bared his own to her, a sneer that twisted his expression while she tried to twist his balls the way she’d done in his apartment the morning after. Even slammed with a hangover she’d been so damn sure of her version of events, ready to toss each little issue in his face. Was she planning on him snapping here? Running his tongue behind the shell of his upper teeth, he eyed the bar itself for a second before his gaze slid back to her. The woman he’d been just a little hopeful over bolted past him, not that he could blame her. ”You need a hand up onto the bar to take a swing?” he asked lightly. Like those little fists could do anything, except slap pancake batter around and grip at his hair like it was the only anchor in that sea of sharp edged pleasure.
That one time sea of sharp edged pleasure. He wasn’t that fucking hard up.
Mitch’s thumb bounced on his bicep, his centre of balance held back like he’d have to step out of range of those tiny swiping hands. His nose up in the air almost imperiously, like he hadn’t spent plenty of time at the club, sinking into its depths, the ones that left that little shiver rolling down his spine still. ”You’re right,” he crooned lightly, his lips quirking indulgently. ”I’m not one of those fucking schmucks who throws his money away in a place like that. I guess the tips must be a bonus though, if you’re sweet enough to talk the suckers out of them.” Oh, he could do the calculations on the odds of losing his shirt easily enough. He could put a rocket right in the centre of her table if he wanted to, the numbers flying through his head, rolling from his fingertips as they were inputted. There was a reason he’d been good at his job, a reason it’d torn his gut out to leave it behind on the expectation of more.
Maybe he should’ve given Jnr a call, given him a new avenue for some fun. The old man would’ve loved seeing a woman trying to take lumps out of his son’s ego, like maybe once enough of it was stripped away he’d be ready to throw in the towel and come running home.
His hands peeled off of his biceps, rising in the air with a snort. The name drop had been unintentional, but there was a burst of satisfaction as the jab hit. Must’ve been a bitch having a name like that as a kid – so many opportunities to twist it around. Mitch narrowed his eyes down to hazel slits, watching those delicate fingers pluck a cocktail umbrella up out of Not-Lucy’s abandoned drink. ”Touch me with it and you’ll be choking on it,” he said immediately. ”You want me to take lucky out of my vocabulary? You weren’t complaining when I said it the last time.” Growled into the damp hollow of her throat at the finish, reverberating on his lips as he’d stayed there, trying to catch his breath with his sticky hands still on her lean thighs.
That wasn’t the way tonight was ending, his masochistic streak wasn’t that wide. Mitch turned half away as she downed the abandoned drink and dropped the glass back on the bar. He propped his elbows on the edge of the bar, gesturing the bartender over with two fingers before she started sniping at him again. Straightening up slowly he eyed her dubiously. This was like a hornet asking you to stick your hand into the nest knowing that the sting was gonna come. ”So you can bitch about it again after?” he asked. ”Do I look like a sucker for punishment to you? You’re fucking crazy.” The bartender was there, Mitch was already lifting his chin to the guy to indicate the bottles of liquor behind the bar.
Alcohol obviously wasn’t the siren it had been the last time. Fun not including downing enough to have a sailor fucking wobbling his way across a still deck. She was heading for the door, that mischievous grin still in place as she shot a dare over her shoulder. For fuck’s sake, was she gonna scream everything from the rooftops … how … He pulled away from the bar as the bartender shot a ‘hey buddy’ at him. He hadn’t shifted, not in front of her, but obviously she’d dug something out of him he couldn’t remember spilling. Catching up to her at the door, he dragged her out through it by one skinny bicep.
Outside he shoved her up against the side of his car, pressing in with his shoulders hunched like that was going to block the rest of this nosy ass town out. ”What the hell are you planning on getting me into? Tossing shit like that around in there … telling women I can’t get it up … that’s enough fucking up of my life for you huh?” He dipped his head close to hers, his teeth bared as he met those pale eyes. ”This how you get your kicks honey? Repeatedly trying to jab a guy where it hurts?” Like one of those puny verbal blows would take him down. Even if she rammed one of those bony knees between his thighs she had no hope of taking him down.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Aug 1, 2022 14:51:10 GMT
ANGE likes this
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Aug 1, 2022 14:51:10 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
Maybe she wasn’t all too upset about another ride around the block with Mitch, even if he was annoying and quite possibly the tallest, dumbest asshole she’d ever met. Lucky had booked off the night, as she’d said, and it was a waste to hang out alone. She could go back to Cynthia with a heavily-edited story about how nice Michael was, too. He’d just have to be willing to play along a little bit.
Clearly, he wasn’t. Boo fucking hoo. “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t drink as much this time. Saves you and your little problem from ruining the night again,” Lucky cackled as she strolled towards the door, sending the following line over her shoulder━certain this one would stick better than any mention of his package.
And it had. It wasn’t Lucky’s entire intention to truly spend the night with him━she was just a ball-buster by nature━but watching him freak out the way men did was fun. Dragging her out by her arm, crowding over her to pin her to the car, trying to throw around his weight and be intimidating. Any other girl might’ve been, but Lucky simply turned her chin up and smirked, meeting Mitch’s eye as he went through his tantrum.
“I’m just having fun, Mitchell. You should try it sometime; you’re too pent up.” Brown eyes narrowed at his lighter, green-speckled ones, though there was still that grin on her face like she was waiting to spit the punchline. “Now get the fuck out of my face.” Lucky started moving forward as though she was ten times bigger than she was (and an equal match for him), like the way they say you should swim at a shark if you want to throw it off. However, Lucky wasn’t a little fish waiting to get chomped on; in her head, she was the Great White━and she knew for certain that her balls were far bigger than Mitchell’s.
If he didn’t move, though, she wasn’t scared of getting closer. He’d already leaned down to her height and Lucky didn’t cower away━she could feel the heat of his body lingering on her skin. “Hate to break it to ya, baby, but you’re not that important━I just wanted to do somethin’ with my night. But I get it, too scared of daddy to put another toe out of line, right?” Lucky lifted a brow, pulling up what she’d dug out of his mind while he was sleeping. His breath was warm on her face, reminiscent of that morning when it felt like they shared everything; sweat, spit, air. “You and I both know you don’t have the balls to do anything else that’s gonna upset him. I’ll go find me some better company tonight. Y’know, a real man.”
Whether or not he decided to surprise her didn’t matter much to Lucky. Some men didn’t pass the tests she set out, and that was fine━they were left behind for weaker women. But she wouldn’t lie; it’d be a hell of a lot easier to stick with the same asshole than to go out hunting again tonight.
MITCHELL DAVIS | |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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thorn
Aug 10, 2022 20:02:12 GMT
Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Aug 10, 2022 20:02:12 GMT
”I’m the five year old?” Jesus. She was gonna have him on the floor, laughing so damn hard he couldn’t get up. Mitch tipped his head back chuckling up at the ceiling. Her recollection and his of the night he’d taken her home were two very different things. There’d been time. Great patches of it like dead grass in the green of his memory. The sense that hours had rolled by in a blink somehow. The stumble through the door, hands still greedy then, mouths too preoccupied with trying to suck out each other’s souls to bitch and moan, well, bitch at least.
Teeth bared, Mitch glanced at the rows of bottles behind the bar, wondering for a moment how many of them it’d take to stop the bitching this time. He grunted, the ‘sufficient’ finally sinking in enough. Sufficient enough that she hadn’t exactly been strolling when she’d walked out of there. ”I’m gonna get you a fucking dictionary for Christmas,” he threatened. Adjust her definition of some words a little – including lucky. Being cursed with it as a name didn’t mean she got to dictate every damn use of it.
Sure as hell wasn’t gonna stop him tossing it in the next book. It was a total cliché to get your own back on people by dropping them into your writing but murdering an asshole on the page in some perfectly karmic way was satisfying beyond belief. The hero tumbling in the sheets Bond Girl style until he figured out that the Bond Girl type he was with was gonna stab him in the back and got there first. Bare bones but decent enough. He could start playing around with it more, once he got back what was gonna be a solo dinner now. Or that had been his intention.
Wariness rolled through his stomach in a way he’d learned to pay attention to. Walking out would’ve been the wise move – alone. Mitch breathed in deep through his nose. Maybe he ought to get her drunk, it had shut her up the last time, until the next morning anyway. Then he’d shown her that he had zero problems in the way she was accusing him of. Manners would’ve had him keeping his mouth shut as he followed her towards the door but his laugh slid out too, low and a little mean (the world’s great dictators wouldn’t get close to the amount of it running through her tiny network of veins and arteries). ”Doesn’t save me from having to put up with you sober though. It’s a toss up which I’m gonna prefer.” It still fucking galled him though, that little pang in the pit of his stomach that had him wanting to toss her into the back seat of his car to prove his lack of issues again.
Was that her plan? Prod at him every time until he caved and gave her exactly what she wanted? If he hadn’t let Lucky under his skin he’d have told her to go fuck herself instead, but she was there, an itch that was almost as bad as the clap (not that he’d ever had issues with that either).
It burned like alcohol in an open wound as she tried again. Sharp little verbal nails digging and finding enough purchase that he hated showing she’d found her mark. Mitch’s own grip grew tight as he snapped, pushing in close until he could practically feel every one of her breaths through his own chest. She knew she’d gotten to him and the pride in that smirk had him wanting to wipe it all from that porcelain doll face. ”Twisted fucking fun huh? I didn’t think you liked it last time I had some with you. No, scratch that, you weren’t bitching too hard right after I got it all out. Don’t like it this time?” He made a little crooning noise at her, not backing off a damn inch, even when she moved forward like she’d chew right through him. He’d carried the mark of those teeth for a good ten minutes after she’d left his place, a red ring reminding him to stay clear.
How much had she dug out of him while he’d been spaced the last time? All the talk of his old man, of not stepping out of line, dig, dig, dig with those nails like she could pry every one of his family’s skeletons out of the closet. Mitch dipped his head closer, lips a centimetre from hers now, how gaze fixed on those big green eyes. He sneered, laughing low enough that it was more like a vibration in that hair’s breadth between them. ”You wanted to piss me off enough to liven it up? I hate to break it to you honey, the daddy issues don’t even come into it.” She wasn’t that far fucking wrong though. Mitch loosened one hand off of her arm, sliding it down until he had a slender hand clutched in his hand, his fingertips almost grazing the bottom edge of that dress. ”You wanna go again? That idea of better company or is this you putting a real offer on the table here?” Ante up. You got nothing from throwing the cards in and she’d know it too. Lucky was the sort to go all in and laugh as the saps around her folded out of fear. A pair of twos ruling it all.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Sept 2, 2022 22:44:02 GMT
ANGE likes this
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Sept 2, 2022 22:44:02 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
It didn’t seem like she would once they were outside, though. A bystander might’ve worried that Lucky wasn’t in control here, that some big man was taking advantage of her. Lucky, however, was exactly where she wanted to be. Even if she’d try to move away and got stuck by the big, ginger shitbag, she’d make do with her situation━still in control. Never not in control. She could spit in his face if she wanted━or drive her knee between his legs ‘til his balls were in his throat━but that wasn’t so fun. Maybe she liked that he was so close, liked the danger, the crackle of energy across her skin. Mitch’s breath danced across her lips, his fingers sure to leave engravings in her skin for later, and still, she smirked.
Again, he tried to jab her with the aftermath. Yes, she liked it after she got on him, wasn’t that the point? It was almost entertaining how brainless he could be━men were so simple; they missed the little nuances and underlying details. He didn’t seem to understand that she’d been manipulating him this whole time. Maybe he was just getting it now.
“I’m doin’ just fine. You’re the one who’s gonna get burned.” She practically hissed, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. They weren’t dry, not really, but he was so close that she grazed him as it slid over her upper lip. Lucky could taste him again; this time he didn’t have the addition of alcohol on his mouth━the sweetness of Not-Lucy’s cocktail was still on hers, though. She’d blame his flavour on that, and the reason she wanted to fully press into his lips and greedily take until she was satisfied.
Lucky smiled guilelessly, batting her lashes like she was the big-t*ttied, dumb, blonde bitch who’d escaped the heat of this interaction. His laugh spread over her skin, tickling the peach fuzz on her face, spreading from her neck all the way to her core. Lucky didn’t let the fire die, though━she wouldn’t bend to the likes of him.
And she didn’t buy his bullshit for one minute. “Hmm, sounds like bullshit. We both know you’re dreading that next phone call━the one where you wake up hungover and have to listen to your dad tell you what a fucking disappointment you are. Shoulda been a politician, Mitch; you’ve got the spine for it.” The grin was back, though it was far sharper around the edges this time. “Just because you hint in an interview every once in a while that they’re dumbasses doesn’t mean you’re doing some grand act of rebellion━doesn’t mean you’re dad’s gonna stop changing his face to step out on your mom.”
He seemed to be… softening? What the hell was that? Mitch reached down to grab her hand, and Lucky stayed frozen for a moment, listening to his bullshit question (and waiting for something better to come). When it didn’t, she turned her hand in his grip and threaded their fingers together, then started trying to painfully bend his hand back. “Why’re you holding my hand like a little fucking girl?” She snapped, “I’m not offering you fuck all. You either decide to play along or fuck off home to cry and beat off into your pillow.” Trying to shake off his hand (because she wasn’t winning a strength battle when he had an unfair advantage), Lucky nodded upwards at him, narrowing her eyes for another challenge. She wouldn’t admit it, but he was doing well so far.
“You wanna really stick it to ‘em? Do something better than mouth off like a teenager. I bet you’re too scared to do anything real, though, am I right? A slippery little shitbag━just like your dad.” With her chin, she indicated over his shoulder at a car in the dimly-lit lot. “How do you think he’d feel about his Golden Boy stealing a car, huh? You’re supposed to be good with electrical shit, right? Think you can hotwire that thing?” It seemed like the easiest, most accessible task in the vicinity, and daring enough to actually test him. This was so much farther than she had planned to go━or had ever gone with another guy before━but maybe Mitch would really impress her. She wasn’t holding her breath.
MITCHELL DAVIS | |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Sept 12, 2022 18:48:30 GMT
Burned. Like he was a piece of kindling she could spark up with just a single word. That little voice in the back of his head, the one that whined like a bitch until it usually had him seeing the sense he was resistant to, cackled – he had followed her out of the bar after all, when he could’ve stayed put and drank the place dry. She’d had him blazing in his kitchen back all those weeks ago. The tinderbox of her temper and that shrew’s mouth working together to send sparks flying at him until just enough caught. Then it’d been a forest fire, charging under his skin as he’d wanted to burn her, to leave behind a mark that would itch as badly as he had while it healed. That infuriatingly unscratchable reminder of just who’d shown who.
Mitch could feel her doing it again. She had been since she’d chased off the woman in the bar. Each word another brush of that nettle like tongue, leaving the sting and itch in its wake. Mitch’s fingertips found the groove in her biceps and looked to find purchase in it, some anchor to stop him from scratching it by flipping her around against the car. He huffed out a breath, one just a little ragged. Hazel eyes watched her tongue wet her lips, lingering as it ghosted over his and he remembered the way it had brushed his own. ”I think you’re overestimating just how hot you are,” he crooned, not letting himself hiss the way she had. He wasn’t going to leap into those flames, even if the temptation of shutting her up was just a hair’s breadth away.
Now she was playing coy? Ha! It didn’t suit her, although he didn’t think that ever stopped her. Mitch pulled her in, letting her feel his laugh as much as hear it. He heard her snipe through his bones, like the aftershocks of a bullet passing through his flesh – not leaving any lasting damage, they never did, but palpable though. His index fingers slid up the underside of her biceps, the tips grazing her ribs. ”You sound just like him. How’s it feel to know you’re as big a c*nt as a second generation politician?” Second generation, second rate. That laugh was back, although the edge of it was rougher now. ”Why would I bother rebelling against him if he’s as shitty you’re making out. He calls, I’ll tell him to go fuck himself, like I have every other time.” Only it always felt hollow, like that pit opening up in his stomach as she somehow managed to dig through his head again.
If he shook her hard enough would she admit that she wasn’t just a supreme judge of assholes? She’d found out somehow about his dad, that sick feeling spread through his stomach at it. For years Junior had used what they were as an excuse to dip his wick whenever and wherever he felt like it, acting like if it was done with someone else’s face it didn’t count as cheating. Slowly, almost tenderly – almost picturing Junior here with his hands all over the little bitch – Mitch slid his hand, taking hers, yelping as her reciprocation turned into a fucking bitch move and she started bending it back. He growled, twisting hers right back until he had her hauled up against him, her hand twisted between them. ”Why are you trying to act the big balls by trying to tear mine off? If you’re not offering it, you wanna stop trying to dangle all that BDE right in my face.” Mealy mouthed bitch. It was a surprise someone hadn’t torn her tongue out by now.
He felt her try and pull away and tapped his forefinger against the underside of her wrist as a reminder not to try. All that BDE trying to bubble up out of that Christmas tree angel body. Mitch started to laugh again, his other hand sliding down to pat her on the ass – good try with the double dog fucking dare. He rolled his eyes, rolled them back to her with his teeth flashing. ”Wrong. Like ya always are. The only slippery thing around here is you honey.” Or she was gonna be any minute now. He paused as those big eyes of her – the ones big enough to drink a man’s soul right down – rolled over her shoulder, emphasised with that dagger of a chin he’d felt dig in to the hollow of his collarbone the last time around. Stealing a car, like a fucking intelligence starved teenager looking for a juvie record. ”This a suggestion of a fuck you for my old man? It’s pretty fucking pathetic.” As an act of rebellion it would be. If he was driving they wouldn’t get caught.
Mitch dropped his mouth, hesitating for just a moment to flinch like a coward scared she’d open her yap and bite her like a viper, then smacked his lips against hers, dragging at her bottom one with his teeth before he patted her ass again and backed up. He wasn’t gonna say there wasn’t a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach again – bestselling author throws his career away by being tempted into a life of crime by the bitch he made the mistake of taking home – as he scuttled across the lot. Shoulders hunched in the shadowy lea of the car, he held out his hand to her, wiggled his fingers. ”You got any pins in that rat’s nest?” He could muscle it if he had to, but that was as bad as doing it in the first fucking place. The wires at least would take a different sort of subtlety, one that he wouldn’t have to rely on her for.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Sept 15, 2022 20:15:26 GMT
ANGE likes this
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Sept 15, 2022 20:15:26 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
He laughed when he insulted her, and Lucky laughed with him, giving nothing in the way of offence taken. Mitch was trying, but he wasn’t quite meeting the mark. She could feel the anger rush through his body━literally━and let it drive her, tipping her chin up proudly. He was forgetting what she’d already dropped plenty of hints to━Lucky knew everything. “But you don’t. You wish you could be that honest with him, don’t you? It’s all just excuses about penguin suits instead of telling him you fucking hate him.” Her heart beat quicker with fury, losing its origin somewhere along the way━was it his or her own? It didn’t matter, anyway━it was all shared in her body. He was there, on the outside, completely unaffected while Lucky was here, a walking, talking totem of both of them.
She felt the pain shoot through his hand when she bent it back, though it was meant to conquer him only. That was her fault, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t like the pain she’d felt before━like when Patrick died━so she’d get over it. It was gone in seconds, replaced by the feeling of Mitch’s body against hers, pinning Lucky to yet another hard surface. “I can’t help it if my balls are twice the size of yours, Mitchell.” Lucky sneered, though she had to bend her neck almost all the way back to catch his eyes. That didn’t stop or slow her, though she tried to wriggle free.
He’d caught her like a fish on a hook. Lucky shifted and pushed, but he didn’t budge, just tapped her skin as if to fucking gloat. She was gonna bite him if he got any closer. Lucky leaned in, assessing with her eyes if she could grab anything more than the flat, rock-solid plane of his chest, but she was shit outta… options.
Her suggestion came next. It was a little desperate on her part, but she was pretty wrapped up, and so what if it bordered on juvenile? It was the perfect stunt.
Wrong? No, he was just in fucking denial. Lucky smirked, ‘cause she knew she was getting somewhere. “Pathetic is as pathetic does.” Lucky practically sing-songed, humming lightly as she grinned up at him, watching Mitch drop his mouth, hesitate, and then press them together. He didn’t hate her so much, now, did he? He just had to sneak in a kiss to make it all worth it. The burn and tingle below her belly was only intensified by his own, making Lucky’s legs feel like jello. She rolled and pressed harder into him. The combined feeling was a little overwhelming, causing a soft moan to slip out as Mitch broke away, leaving Lucky to glare after him.
She sucked in one sharp breath to clear her head before his fear flooded her gut. Lucky crossed her arms over her chest and strutted over, far slower than Mitch, revelling in this moment. As cool as ever, she lifted a hand and pulled a bobby pin out from the side of her head. Handing it over, Lucky considered sticking him in the eye with it, but resigned to her spot towards the back of the car instead. Leaning on the rear door, Lucky’s gaze slid out into the darkness of the parking lot, then across to the door where light pooled out from the bar. Yes, she was keeping watch━Mitch might’ve been an idiot desperate to prove himself, but Lucky had a kid to take care of. One who wouldn’t benefit from losing her only parent to a jail cell.
“I know I’m not wrong, by the way.” She hummed, her gaze slowly finding its way to Mitch. “You see it all the time━how alike you are to him. How you could get out of shit just as easily; change your face and be done with it.” Lucky smirked, raising a brow as she watched him. “You’re so scared of being like him that you became him, just a different flavour. Makes you sick, huh?” God, she needed a fucking cigarette. Lucky shifted her eyes to the dark sky, tilting her head back against the car. “Would disgust me.” Not just his dad, but hers, too. She’d rather die than be the kind of parent he was.
MITCHELL DAVIS | |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Oct 3, 2022 21:41:22 GMT
Mitch jerked his head back, his upper lip curving. Those bony little fingers weren’t half as pleasurable there as where they’d dug in elsewhere. He bared his teeth like he could nip at them, an irritated dog biting. Like he hadn’t heard funnier shit about his looks before. He’d been in the army, they weren’t exactly known for sweet talking each other. Every single Jimmy Durante and Dumbo joke had come his way and been sarcastically cackled away before he’d even got out of basic training. Some weak come back from this chick wasn’t gonna have him crying into her non-existent cleavage now. ”I don’t remember you complaining about it before,” he crooned, keeping his head tilt back to stare the length of that potato of a nose at her. It hadn’t been fingers bumping it then though and the only complaints she’d had were knocked out of her before she staggered out, leaving him to clean up.
At least that part was gonna be someone else’s problem if they stayed out here. She could slap him around, try dragging all the skeletons out of his closet – the equally non-existent ones – it still wasn’t gonna get him riled up enough to throw her up on the hood of the car and risk actually pissing Jnr off when the newspaper here screamed about the son of a Canadian muckety-muck getting arrested for public indecency. He’d still stick two fingers up at him, but Mitch knew he’d lose some of the ground he’d kept like a no man’s land between him and the hallowed halls he’d never wanted to walk. ”You listening in now? Trying to find something else to throw in my face like confetti. You tell your dad you hated him?” Cause one of those bony fingers had find one of those sore spots, he drilled a far thicker finger back into hers, almost smelling her irritation on the air. It was better than the scent of spilled pancake batter at least.
That shrill tongue would deny it every time, his unerring aim covered up with that quick twist of violence. The little bitch.
His own irritation rolled through, bitter as burnt toast. One jolt of pain returned with another. Mitch doused his with a chuckle, his hand soothing himself through that casual bending of her wrist and that slender form hauled up against his, dwarfed by him, although she’d have denied it, claiming to occupy a space twice as big – her balls needing all that room to swing in his direction. ”Your imaginary ones huh? I hate to break it to ya, honey, you can’t wish them into existence.” They were there, no matter how he tried to cut them off though, swinging between them, leaving that shooting pain in the pit of his stomach that had him wanting to prove to her once and for all just who really had a pair here. And it wasn’t the short ass who had to practically lay her head back between her shoulder blades to look him in the eye.
Had nobody ever taught her that wriggling a body that size to get away from a man his size was like trying to cause a tsunami by paddling at the edge of the sea? Size didn’t always make as much of a difference as people liked to think, but size and training trumped practically everything except stupidity. Maybe patting her on the ass was that, but she had no physical come back, even if she tried by invading his space. Can’t bite his nose or tear his balls off, but dangling temptation right there? Ha! Just as fucking ridiculous as everything else … if he let a little of the stupid in.
Get caught flashing his ass in the parking lot of a restaurant, or get caught driving round in a car that wasn’t his – chances were they wouldn’t catch him while he was hotwiring it, not unless he’d really lost his touch. He continued to look down his nose at her, not entirely where she was looking, but close enough. ”You’d know,” Mitch muttered weakly, some kid with no school yard game. Fuck.
Stupid was as stupid did and this was top of the fucking list. Knowing he’d regret this in more ways than one, Mitch kissed her, like it would seal the deal, or somehow break it. He could’ve made that happen, giving in to the press of her as the kiss did what his mouth hadn’t done before. Fingers dropping down, curving over, around her to pull her in, performing the greater of the two evils, at least in terms of getting his ass into trouble. She moaned as he pulled back, but he was the one with a hitch in his walk as he strolled away from her. Shoulders up, smug with them as Lucky strutted after him, arms across her chest like none of them had got her worked up (oh, he could still feel the way she’d rolled into him, he hadn’t forgotten that). Mitch tilted his head as she fished in her hair, his hazel eyes narrowing. ”Don’t go thinking about how else you could use that.” He’d have it out of her fingers, and not gently, before she could ram it into some delicate part of him.
Dropping to his knees next to the car, Mitch squinted at the lock as he worked the pin into it. It woulda been easier with the right tools, but she’d not exactly given him much warning before she’d tried to goad him into a life of crime. He frowned, working the pin deeper with an unexpectedly delicate touch. ”Fuck off.” The words rolled out automatically, sharply, leaving him cursing as he felt the pin slip on the tumblers. ”You disgust me. That your talent? Pissing guys off enough that they walk out on you? That’s a real fucking talent you’ve got. Stay out of my head. Keep your nose out of whatever you think’s gone off with him.” The alcohol he’d barely sniffed back in the bar rolled up into the back of his throat.
The lock clicked, a satisfying little sound that he hoped would bore its way into her brain, right down to that balloon of her ego. Mitch straightened up slowly, baring his teeth as he opened the car door for her. ”The lady’s chariot awaits … if I can even call you that …” There were other far more fitting words, ones he wanted to spit at her now as she somehow dug around in his head. He could change his face, could fool everybody in this town, except for this woman who seemed ready to tear off each mask he slipped on to reveal that seething cess-pool of self-loathing inside.
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LUCKY CHRISTMAS
Psychic
Posts: 101
Played by:
Julia
Last seen Nov 16, 2024 23:24:26 GMT
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thorn
Oct 10, 2022 21:41:08 GMT
ANGE likes this
Post by LUCKY CHRISTMAS on Oct 10, 2022 21:41:08 GMT
━ i'm something bad ━
Lucky scoffed at his ‘imaginary balls’ comment; she knew the truth, and so did he. Keeping her trapped in his arms as a show of physical strength was just Mitch trying to show off his man-ego, which meant she was one step closer to her desired outcome. He even kissed her in the middle of that tense moment, which was far more than she’d expecting. She was damn good, huh?
‘You’d know.’
Well, he wasn’t. Lucky cackled as she walked after him, letting her laughter speak for itself━he could feel all that shame without a verbal response, she was sure of it.
Presenting the bobby pin, she wondered (for a moment) if he was the one in her head now, but only smiled sourly back at him. It wasn’t so hard to guess, really━at least he was self-aware. Resting on the edge of the car, she thought about her dad again, which was likely the unintended consequence of going after Mitch. Whatever, though━she had far fewer memories of her father than he did, and that was the point. They were still in contact; he was still wrapped around his dad’s finger like a fucking child.
An automatic grin spread over her face at his sharp response. The words didn’t matter so much as his anger; Lucky wasn’t insulted by them whatsoever. Actually, she was delighted that he got so worked up. Rolling her head up, she turned to smile down at him, “Actually, it’s getting guys to buck up and make something of themselves. You’re welcome.” Lucky made a buzzer sound like he’d called out the incorrect answer on a game show. “Nope, wrong again, not in anyone’s head. Just stop making it so entertaining to watch you be a dickless shit, and then I’ll stay out of it.”
Pushing off the car, she closed the small space between them, taking a moment to slide past Mitch, purposefully brushing against him while she got in. “Finally,” Lucky smirked up at him before dropping down on the seat, waiting for Mitch to get in on the other side. He hated her so much, she disgusted him, and yet he was willing to stay long enough to prove her wrong. Men.
“So, now we’re in; here’s the hard part.” The silent let’s see if you can actually do it lingered in the air as Lucky leaned on the armrest between their seats, spying judgementally.
Eventually, the car sputtered to life, and Lucky settled back into her seat, grinning. “Ah, look at that; you’re good for something. Let’s start driving before you get caught and Daddy finds out, huh?” She said the words casually, as though it cost nothing for her to fling insults at him. It didn’t, not really, but they were said with purpose━all to get the right reaction from him.
During the drive, her approach shifted somewhat. Lucky would never not have that razor-sharp tongue in her mouth, but crossing her legs dragged the hem of her dress towards her hips, and dropping an elbow onto the armrest made the fabric around her chest pucker, offering more of that bare, milky-white skin. Each new dig was accented with her touch, fingers settling on Mitch’s arm, moving idly━as if she didn’t know what she was doing.
“Take a left up here,” Lucky ordered, knowing it would take them to a dead-end road at the edge of town surrounded by trees. The perfect spot to murder him in… but also a place where he could let out some steam. Anger, probably, but adrenaline, too. She could feel it from him, creating little sparks in her belly, forcing her heart to thunder beneath her ribs. Lucky glanced over her shoulder at the back seats, wide enough for her to get on his lap, facing the windshield, hands on the front seats for support, head hanging while she focused on nothing but his heat on hers.
Not a bad “blind date” in the end, she supposed, but she wouldn’t be thanking fucking Cynthia for it.
MITCHELL DAVIS | end w yours? |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Nov 5, 2022 20:20:54 GMT
Well whoop-de-fucking-doop for her. Mitch felt the envy crawl at the base of his throat. There were enough reasons for him to have cut Jr off a lifetime ago, a million little threads that connected them that he’d already severed. The main cord still stretched between the two of them though, like some part of him was scared to slice through it, while his father refused to believe that he wouldn’t cave and come crawling back up it one day. It was a fucking shame Lucky hadn’t been blessed with what he had. She could’ve plastered on his face, done it for him while he’d stood and watched the old man finally crumble at the news that the legacy was dying out with him.
That didn’t mean he was scared though. Oh, his balls were just as big as hers, he just didn’t go swinging them in everybody’s face the same way she was. Mitch imagined them there between the two of them as he penned her in, wondering how long it was going to take her to try kneeing him in them again. The little jabs she’d already made were sucker punches, swung for what was meant to be the softest part of him, tough luck for her that most of them had scarred over a good decade before. He felt the little pin pricks of annoyance in them, like pins and needles in places that shouldn’t have been able to feel it as she trailed behind him, that cackle filling the air again. She could think what she wanted, that mean little opinion was gonna change when he proved again that he wasn’t as soft and feeble as she liked to make out he was.
Thick fingers gripped the tiny pin, his teeth bared above it as she shot him a sour smile. Oh he knew she’d have taken the jab if it would’ve pleased her. Jabbed in his ear or an eyeball, the cackle rising as she walked away from the damage. He was offering fun of another kind up now though, limbering himself up to try and leap over the pyre she was trying to make of the life he’d built here. Maybe he should’ve just boosted her up on the trunk of the car to change her mind instead.
Brows furrowed, he worked the pin into the lock. He was rusty, fingers more used to hammering on keys to do everything theoretically these days. The tiny beads at the ends of the metal arms caught, the tiny clicks of them reawakening those long numbed nerves. ”You call this making something of myself? You’ve got some twisted fucking ideas, you know that?” And methods that worked. One brow rose as he looked up at her, not far up, he was almost eye to eye with her down here. Bullshit. She wasn’t going anywhere while there was an ounce of satisfaction between them. She knew there was flesh to continue jabbing and God, he wasn’t about to let her have the last word here. He’d rather stick the bobby pin down his throat and choke on it like a fish bone.
She could probably fish that out with her mind too, and torment him as she dragged it out one millimetre at a time. Mitch shoved the pin into the pocket of his pants as he stood up, sneering down at that smirk she aimed at him. He didn’t pull back as she pushed past him on purpose, didn’t get her the satisfaction, just slammed the door a split second after she got in. Long legs didn’t take a moment to round the car, the question of his own sanity stayed put longer. He should’ve walked away, called the last time a mistake and put it behind him instead of trying to repeat it to shut her the fuck up.
Mitch tilted his head, laughing low as he plucked the wires from beneath the wheel. Hard part. For hands that small maybe. ”Speaking from experience? What was it, stealing the car of the last dumb fuck who let you in? Smash it up, pay him back.” Tempt him into the breaking the law maybe, cackling as she laid all the blame at his feet and left his ass rotting in jail. The wires brushed together, the car starting up moments later. Thank fuck for the sort of asshole who hadn’t kept up with changing technology. With a modern car he wouldn’t have managed it even with an hour to fiddle with the electrics.
He ignored the bite of Lucky’s accusations. The car was jammed in gear, one last glance cast over his shoulder as he accelerated out of the lot, hopefully hard enough to have her teeth rattling. He had no intention of getting caught now. He’d shown her what he was good for once, and this was just another push back that probably wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall on that near non-existent ass. Maybe there was a little flicker of enjoyment in the pit of his stomach as he roared down dark roads, evening quiet, thankfully bare of any sheriff’s cars – especially when that dress (the one he wouldn’t have told her looked good on her) rode up, pale thighs revealed. Mitch glanced aside, swallowing hard as she dropped another dare with the play of her fingers on his arm. What was this, an attempt to have him running the two of them off the road as she prompted him to putting that useless thing to work again.
Running past the turn she ordered him to take would’ve given him some petty satisfaction, but Mitch did as he was told, squealing off road. He should’ve slowed as the lights fell away, but he kept his speed up, steering on autopilot, like he was expecting mortars to drop from the sky at any moment. The gate crossed the end of the road, suddenly visible in the headlights. Mitch didn’t slow down until the last minute, sending gravel spinning up behind them as he stomped the breaks. The car rocked to a stop millimetres before the metal gate.
There wasn’t half the control on him as he tore the door open, dragging her out with him. He hadn’t missed that look she’d cast behind herself and knew exactly what it meant. She was dragging around by some delicate part of him and he was dumb enough to go with it. There was some special place upstairs for morons like him, but at least it was up, surely women like her were headed somewhere else after. ”You’re a pain in my fucking ass,” he muttered as he pushed her down on the back seat, rougher than he would’ve been – she could handle it – oh, he’d seen that before. Bumping his head on the ceiling of the car with a curse, he followed her in on his knees, all that irritation pouring out as he dipped down and kissed her again. Rough and demanding, enough to shut her up, although undoubtedly she’d still try and take those bites out of him … and he’d let her because he was a masochistic fucking idiot.
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