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Post by ALEXANDRA FITZPATRICK on Mar 14, 2010 22:56:55 GMT -5
she said - he's so sweet,  I wanna lick the wrapper. Ah, what a wonderful spring afternoon in the fields of the academy - wasn't it? There wasn't any annoying students around since most of them were just released for their lunch break, allowing the guards and a few staff members to relax for a few hours. It wasn't much but it was better than working the whole entire half day. The Irish mob princess released a loud yawn of comfort before fading entirely into the lawn chair in the middle of fresh cut green grass, the smooth winds glowing through her long hair. As the wind continued to blow, the ruffled area of her skirt rose a few inches higher to reveal her naturally smooth thighs - the reflecting from a bright sun creating the healthy creme flesh to sparkle. Alex didn't seem to mind an continued to bop her head in a steady motion, both ears occupied by an overlarge set of headphones while playing one of her favorite songs. Who would have guessed hip hop was so interesting? Something about the beat was entirely addicting, following by the rough voices and sudden instinct to create trouble at the same time - being completely bad ass at the same time. That silly husband of hers could learn a few things by just watching a few of those music videos that came on TV.
"Shawty said the nigga that she with ain't shit, shawty said the nigga that she with ain't this . . ." A soft delicate voice escaped her chapstick covered tiers as they moved to the beat of the lyrics, attempting to mimic the same sultry voice of an infamous rapper. "Shawty said the nigga that she with can't hit." Something about this certain song spoke to her in a way which couldn't be easily explained but was constantly listening to it ever since she discovered the music video earlier this morning. Sadly she only had a few minutes to enjoy it before Ayden awoke from his sleep and came inside her room, interrupting her whilst she was dancing. Even though they've been married for a few months now - she still couldn't get used to a half naked man walking into her room to discover her dancing in a pair of polka dot panties and nothing else. Who the hell does that?! Privacy was still something kept between them as a golden rule, whether they were married or not, she didn't feel that comfortable around him. In fact it came rarely she ever felt so ever. Ayden Fitzpatrick was his name - a known deaf and the closest member of the mafia family, a favorite of her father. He has tall, handsome and completely deaf. After all these years of being assigned to him for small missions before their fixed marriage and she still didn't realize it - certainly explained why he was always the quiet one.
Like it mattered anyway, she confronted those minor feelings of embarrassment to the back of her mind, knowing that in a few months to perhaps a year - she would finally take place as head of the mafia family. Alex kept her promise of living peacefully in an area by making a life for herself, something unrelated to crime but how long did this facade had to last? Weeks of doing the same routine started to get boring and even a few fist fights here and there weren't cutting it anymore. As she shrugged and continued to be cradled by the lyrics of artists, sudden blur passed from her arranged seating position towards the bushes. Green irises fluttered open to attention and slowly rose from the starting point where this stranger suddenly ran, figuring it was a student trying to cut class. "What the flyin' hell?!" In a few minutes the irish maiden was already lifted from her chair with the headphones still intact, shuffling over to the supposed hiding place to lean forward. A teenage boy squealed with surprise finding the pink haired guard above him, realizing from her annoyed features - this wasn't going to end well. "Ya stupid bastard, the hell do you think you're doin' out here?! Get the fuck back to class before I shove this size seven foot up your arse!" A strong hand gripped the edge of his collar shirt to lift him away from the bushes, throwing him like a simple rag doll into the ground. The teenager flinched with pain and scrambled to find the nearest entrance to the academy without being caught by other guards, leaving her in slight sour mood. "Stupid bitch ass punk." She muttered while crossing both arms, suddenly not in the mood to go back to her lawn chair and relax for the rest of her break. Soft lips wrinkled in a visible frown, both arms crossed like a childish brat and pouting for all that peaceful time wasted.
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Post by AYDEN FITZPATRICK on Mar 16, 2010 20:10:36 GMT -5
[/size][/s] hush, child, darkness will rise from the deep[/color] and why is it that you don't even want me nowyou won't understand the cause of your grief[/i] it’s a dirty free for all[/size][/s][/font] ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫[/center]
There was something to be said for the life Ayden Fitzpatrick, a sort of paradise unrivaled that most men would kill for a chance at, a break in the monotonous press of scarlet violence that colored his soundless world. He wouldn’t trade it for anything, presses his fingertips to a trigger and smiles at the resulting wallpaper décor. Ayden won’t let her go unless she begs for it, holds his wife to him like a thief does its greatest heist and simply enjoys her presence in as far as she lets him. He’s drunk on the way his wife dances about in her own world, catches sight of her movements and spends a moment enraptured by her perfection. Sometimes she makes him feel old and ashamed of his of bloody hands, makes him wish he could hear her laugh at his failures. But he can’t and there isn’t much use dwelling on the thought, not as he tries his hardest at ignoring the always cold side of his bed.
His wife is his in name alone, no consummation or lingering warmth to see him through the days ahead.
Alexandra hates him. There’s no real secret to her, no encryption to unlock the mysteries of her feminine wiles. The wife he loves would rather see him dead if not for the convenient stepping stool he presented her with, and he hasn’t the heart to tell the woman that her beloved role is already his. He cleans his gun when she isn’t around, slips it under his pillow without worry that she’ll find the thing. Ayden wears the weapon with pride, out so far in the open that if she would just look past the aggravation presented that she might reconsider his worth. But it is a vain hope, one near neutered by years of service and her constant mental conceptions of his uselessness. Alas, the man in question is beyond caring, drags his body from his bed when he feels the vibrations in the floor from when she slams the door. Oh yes, he may be deaf but he is not without his methods.
A cigarette to his lips, lit with a practiced flip and click of silver encased flame, calms his nerves even as he wills himself to the kitchen to begin preparing a lunch of sorts for his wayward wife.
It’s a strange skill for a syndicate head to have, a bit odder that he’s picked it up from far too many perusals and abuses of Julia Child’s assembled literary works. He takes a drag while quick fingers deftly turn the page, a mental menu already being calculated with great bias towards the contents. His wife likes her days spent with an edge, but at the end expects life to be sweet and wonderful. The decision is quick, all measuring cups and flashing steel dancing through a myriad of eclectic ingredients and clattering dishes. He finishes just in time to whip the apron off and toss it to the side, dashes to the bathroom to take a breakneck shower while the lot cooks. And as always, Ayden dresses to impress the one person who could really care less, black slacks and an immaculately pressed dress shirt that get covered in paisley print apron as soon as he dashes back around the corner. His hair can wait, not while he ices and ladles the fruit of his morning’s labors. When it’s all packaged fit for a princess he bothers with himself, ties up his hair and straps on his revolver in sheer habit. And all kit up like he’s out for a date, Ayden Fitzpatrick goes to bring his wife her lunch.
He loves how she handles her charges, wishes he could hear what she’s yelling at the right little wanker, but he’s too far away to read her lips to see how she deals with it. But it’s no matter to him, not as he uses the lapse in her attention to slip in her shadow to watch the brat run off. When she pouts it’s the most darling thing he’s ever seen, and if he was a lesser man she’d be bundled up in a hug she never wanted. But Ayden is made of sterner stuff than that, settles instead for making sure he’s more than an arm’s length away from her before clearing his throat.
“Lunch.” Sure Ayden isn’t the nicest thing to listen to in the world, but his point gets across and that’s all that matters. And just in case the woman in question decides to pretend she can’t understand his deaf mutterings, he holds up the picnic basket in question with a slight smile on his face. “Rice. Chicken curry. Bread. Cupcakes.” And as he talks his eyes close with the effort of feeling the vibrations and measuring the sounds with his tongue. This would be much easier if he could just sign it to his beloved wife, but as he doubts she’d appreciate having to learn a whole new language when she could just have her husband make a minor fool of himself. But his eyes open to watch her mouth, a sort of fixation that on anyone else would be perversion but for him is preservation.
♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ x ♫ livejournal ||LINEUP
legare ||MASTER
hubby dearest ||CORPSE
8744 ||BONES
dynamite rider – masafumi takada ||ORGAN
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Post by ALEXANDRA FITZPATRICK on Mar 16, 2010 21:19:47 GMT -5
she said - he's so sweet, I wanna lick the wrapper. "@)*%&@)@%!!" A sudden stream of inaudible curses flew from her mouth, both hands poised against her sides and feet planted firmly against the ground. "@)(!_! You @_(%}@, son of a )@{#%*!!" That little boy just ran like his life depended on it, which it did, fading until he was nothing more but a passing memory. Alex wasn't in the mood for any bullshit and she had to be interrupted by some useless punk who thought he could be wise and try to catch glimpses under her skirt. Hell, her husband wasn't even allowed such pleasure. No one was. Curtains of pink hair fell before her face as a pale hand wandered through its tangles for a moment, placing her hat back into place before taking in another deep breath. She couldn't have chased him down and beat the living shit out of him like she wanted, especially if this temper didn't reveal any signs of going down. Although she hasn't been in trouble yet for her violent behavior - it still wasn't a good plan to allow people to see that side of her, the side of a mafia princess. Nothing would please her more than to set this place on fire and watch it burn to the ground but thankfully she had her heart set on winning this little bed and taking the family business.
With a soft puff of fury, she turned by the heel to suddenly find the image of her husband standing in the middle of the fresh cut lawn. Emerald hues quickly observed the manner of his dress without sparing more than two seconds to admire, knowing that despite his god wonderful appearance and smooth attractive smile - she wasn't supposed to feel so physically attracted to him. Not to someone who acts like such a tool and does whatever he was told to. The whole idea of their marriage because her father found him as an incredible asset to the family and a powerful enough warrior to keep her safe never ceased to piss her off. For the six months they have been married - she's noticed that the last thing he's ever killed was a fly who managed to find its way in his face. Deadly? As if! But despite what others thought from noticing how she treated him, she didn't hate him all that much. In fact - not at all. He was kind and always around when it came to feeding her, not to mention a pretty impressive cook. Sadly, dear Alexandra has been too busy noticing his brawn rather than the dedication he pushes into their marriage. Although there are a few signs of her known affection but rather curiosity of the anatomy of a man; making a habit to often sneak into his room while he slept and watching him. Those curious yet hungry green jewels would focus on his nearly naked build; just watching the muscles of his chest rise and fall, those mysteriously erotic grunts he'd mutter whilst struggling to get comfortable - beautiful arching motions whenever he'd move into another position. Of course, Alex would never admit this little habit or how physically drawn she felt to his body.
The irish maiden found herself nearly pouncing the lunchbox as he held it toward her, quickly snapping it open to inspect the lunch he's made. "Eh, what took ya so long? Don't cha realize a workin' girl like me needs to feed?" A pink brow rose in question before picking through the food, instead of sparing the alternate version of how this encounter should go. So nice to see you, honey. "Well at least ya remembered what I liked . . ." Oh darling, thank you for remembering! If only, right? Wrong. Alex sat against the lawn chair before crossing both bare legs, taking the plastic fork from inside and shoveling a few bite fulls into her still speaking mouth. With a small sigh she shoved another fork full of food to chew on, marveling the delicious taste before eying his tall standing figure curiously. Brows suddenly ruffled in a confused yet annoyed state, did he always have to stand with his fucking tall self? "Why dont cha make yourself useful and stop standin' around like a moron, aye? Put some of that sun tan lotion on these legs." The same hand which held the now clean fork pointed to the little brown bottle near the lawn chair, waiting for him to crouch to at least her level of height any minute now. Thank god work was early this evening - after lunch all the kids went to take their monthly tests and confide themselves in their rooms all evening. It was necessary anyway ever since that rumored day of kids sneaking in and out of the classroom in order to get answers from other students or well educated adults. Without another moment to spare one slender creme shaded leg lifted and placed itself near his knee cap, poised and ready for his attention.
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