mark-charmichael

[mark-charmichael]

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

Mark couldn’t help the small smile and shake of his head as her fingers pulled his tie loose and then laid on his chest for a few seconds before he took them with one of his, holding both and nodding. “As the lady demands then” he spoke and reached to with his free hand to take the whiskey glass he had left, leaving the almost burned out cigarette on the marble counter, no ashtray to the side. Picking up the glass by its bottom and holding it between his fingers he took a sip before offering it to her, his light eyes following her features. The situation was not what he was used to. Usually the woman would be over him from the car and he would carry her up the stairs without the need of further wooing. Perhaps this spoke more on him and his choices than on the women, but for a few years now this was a routine and it brought him peace. “So, Miss Holsen”, he said as he moved a thumb at the edge of her lips to brush away a nonexistent drop of the amber liquid. “where would I have had a chance to see you before? ”

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

CILLIAN MURPHY Inception (2010) dir. Christopher Nolan

[mark-charmichael]

A chuckle was his reply to her remark on the killer. He had never really personally killed anyone, so she was right that he was not a serial killer, despite his dabbling in the underworld of America until he had settled in this town. As he put a hand on her lower back to guide her to the car, following his driver who had been enjoying his time at the bar, he was realizing that she was indeed very drunk with the steps she took and the support he offered. In the car, she seemed mostly out of it, which stopped his urge to put his hands underneath her dress and push it up so he could trail his fingers up her tights while his lips would have been on her neck. But despite all his flaws he considered himself a gentleman in this regard. If only this. So he sat, looking outside the window as they drove to the outskirts and the old apartment building where the owners were rich and inconspicuous.

Walking up the stairs, he kept a hand on her back again to balance her in her heels. The glaze in her eyes as she took in the entryway and living room, in its beige and white and art deco French style that he had agreed to keep and only renovate made him smile. He let her question roll around him and did not reply for a while as he took off his suit jacket and took out the metal cigarette pack to light another one. Once cigarettes hadn't been allowed anywhere but by the window in the kitchen or under the hood for the stove. Now the smell had replaced any previous ones and was sticking slightly to the couch and curtains.

"I live alone," he said at last as he went to the coffee table and opened the decanter with whiskey and poured a glass for himself, pulling at the collar of his shirt with the hand that still held the butt of the cigarette. Then, using the same hand to take the glass, he offered her his free one and led her to the kitchen, unused and still brand new. "Would you like something to drink? Or just water?" he asked as his hand travelled down her back again and he let her sit on one of the barstools, lingering next to her. He didn't know her so he wasn't sure if she got sober quickly or even if this state for her was considered too drunk. So he smiled as he exhaled another puff of smoke, standing between her knees as he waited for an answer.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

[mark-charmichael]

He continued observing her as if she were an animal in a cage and he was an onlooker, trying to glimpse at a wonderous creature inside. Her reactions were slow but coherent enough that he still didn't consider her too drunk, so he placed the hand that was not on her knee on the wrist of her hand holding a dead phone. "No inconvenience at all. I have just the perfect place for you to rest if you would like to," he spoke plainly, his gaze on hers conveying the unspoken words that didn't specify. "And I will even promise to take you safely wherever you please in the morning" he finished as his blue irises moved in her light ones. He was not sure even after a few hours if they were blue or grey, the lighting had prevented him from figuring it out.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

Looking so closely into her face and eyes he couldn't help but notice that there was a lack of any similarity whatsoever, however much he had imagined it previously in the night and tried to find something other than the overall feeling of her aura... he did find that he quite liked her features though, especially the blush all over her from alcohol and the warmth that was in the club.

"You are either very bold or very drunk, miss Holsen" he spoke to her, gaining back the distance she had put between them, sitting on the edge beside her. "I will be just the first and ask if you would require a ride somewhere, considering your entourage left you to your lonesome with only me as your company..." He put a hand on her knee, moving a finger along the soft fabric of her dress. He hoped she wasn't too drunk and maybe he could have his way and then order some flowers be sent so that she could have the night finished off with a good memory and then be forgotten with time. But he couldn't be sure, considering the way her eyes were focusing as if too loosely on everything.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

Mark couldn't help but smile at the woman's statement, knowing neither of them would probably have any vivid memories of the night considering their state. But he didn't feel the need to note this as they started downing the shots he had brought. He leaned forward to take his barely touched glass of whiskey which he used to wet his lips occasionally since 11 pm when he had arrived for the night.

While the next three trays of shots were brought up and down the stairs into the lounge the group got even louder and hardly noticed his silence as he observed them, sober as a judge, the music booming louder once the terrace's glass walls were cracked a bit. He laughed when they said something which in their drunken state seemed to be funny, smiled as they asked questions and kept to himself, observing the blonde that had brought them here the whole time. In the beginning, she had been the soberest one but after a few of the shots her cheeks had reddened even more making his thoughts fly in inappropriate directions as they giggled and their whispers became shouts. He was sure that he could take the brunette in the blue dress down to the toilet and enjoy a second orgasm tonight, but he wasn't sure it was worth it, considering she would probably be inadequate. He always preferred to first have sex and then buy a drink for a girl. But he did enjoy the company, or pretend he had company as they all enjoyed themselves and he was diving deep into his happier memories, the surroundings making that easy

As two of them ran down the stairs, probably to cover for each other while they threw up, another seemed asleep in the corner and the last one was making out with a guy who had come with two friends later on, regular blokes that often left big sums of money, he smiled again at Genevieve and rose a hand as if to call her to him. He had noticed she had stopped drinking some time ago, sticking to water bottles. He rose up from the armchair where he had stood for all this time and walked toward her. "It seems the night is ending for your friends... all in their all way", he spoke as he neared her, keeping his voice louder so she could hear him. "I hope you had a nice time this evening miss Holsen." he put a hand on the back of the couch she was sitting on, leaning in so he wouldn't need to shout.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

@pchelka_lesya

[mark-charmichael]

Genevieve Holsen. He memorized the name more than he had bothered to remember the previous four, or more than he had interest in remembering them. The tone of her voice and the deepness of it were both so familiar and new. His smile was hard to keep for the first few seconds, being so close and hearing it, but then he internally chastised himself and chuckled instead of frowning.

“Just your first name would have been okay with me, but I do enjoy any further information shared“ he said with an amused tone, as he returned to the armchair, putting his elbows on his knees as he kept her gaze for a few more seconds, the warmth of her hand still pronounced on his lips, more than that of the other before her. He could see the sparkle in her eyes and could recognize the emotion too well. 

“I’ll go get the shots!“ Kiara announced as if to take his attention back to her, his eyes still on Genevieve. She was struggling to get up once again, seemingly feeling the alcohol so much stronger now that she had once sat down and stopped dancing. “No need, love.“ he interrupted as he rose a hand towards the stairs and as if appearing from thin air after less than a minute one of the waitresses stopped next to them. “A tray of shots with something good in them, Maria. And waters, please.“ he nodded at her, and then returned his gaze to the women opposite him, as the girl quickly headed away. Kiara was whispering something at the blonde’s ear and he couldn’t help the wider grin at his lip.

“So, ladies. Is this the end of a bachelorette or would you like additional entertainment. This club can arrange all if asked... nicely“ he spoke to all but his blue irises were glued to Genevieve, appearing as if this fact may be making her uncomfortable. And she was the most adequate of all of them.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

Headcannons

Name - Mark Charmichael

Age - 32

Born - Manchester

Occupation - owner of a nightclub and a burlesque club, owns an Italian restaurant via third parties, imports and sells drugs

Moved to America when he was 19 to escape an abusive mother, tried to study in university but dropped out first year

Began dealing with the wrong crowds at 21, stashing money and living in a basement off of cans 

At 27 he had a few good friends, managed to create connections and become rather rich

Invested in a club where he deals drugs

At 29 he got engaged to a Canadian theatre actress. She was killed in a rather violent shootout two months before the wedding

Has bought the basement of the apartment complex where he used to live and turned it into a secret home. Owns a two bedroom apartment in the outskirts of the city for a publicly known home

[mark-charmichael]

“Seems like you will have a lucky man soon“, was Mark’s answer as his first impression was confirmed by the giggling group. He was smiling with a wider smile now, still not reaching his eyes. He had always enjoyed the company, be it men or women to speak to, but especially women. Even if for the past three years they had been mostly distractions and filling of time, considering how little he could share with them  and there were just so many times you could discuss the glamour of night life and cultural and political events before getting repetitive. With women in this club he rarely said more than a few sentences, but considering there were more than two of them here, he couldn’t slide between them and offer them drinks and sensual touches to stop all further discussions. 

He ignored the comment of the brunette in the blue dress, reminding him of too many previous women in her place, something in her eyes and face speaking of cheap thrills. Without moving his gaze to where his attention was focused he gave a silent chuckle. “You ladies can call me Mr Carmichael. I’d be happy to be a host of the time left of your festivities here. I am weak at the sigh of such a happy group.” he spoke the flattery in his usual low voice, possible not that the glass wall was fully pulled. He nodded at Blake who returned to his position by the stairs. 

The group of women went ahead and were quick to introduce themselves and he got up, taking each one’s hand and placing a kiss on them. The woman in the blue dress with her flirtorious tongue licking her lips was Sheryl, the bride-to-be in white - Kiara, Lindsey whose black velvet dress seemed ready to slip down, and then Rachel in pink. He repeated their names and then finally gave his hand to the blonde because of which they had all were now there. The first time in the last minute and a half of giggling and smiles in which he looked at her, pinning his gaze to hers as he waited. ��And last of all...?“

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

He heard the group before he saw it, giggling emitting as they were walking up, his ears too used to the music and able to catch other sounds with a bit more ease than one would. He spent most of his nights either at this club or the burlesque one he owned in the other part of town. He was rarely needed at the restaurant, owned under a benefactor so quit wasn’t the typical venue of choice. But these women, in their dresses, ignoring the state they were in, did belong in a piano bar rather than here, in an expensive club that was also so cheap at times.

With the beat picking volume and shouts emitting from below he was not able to distinguish words from the group but he put a hand up to pull at the collar of his white shirt before extending an arm to the couches as an invitation. He could bring them anything the bar offered, both on and off the menu to distract the group while his eyes stayed glued to the blonde in red dress, still more coherent than the rest apparently. He gave a smile he knew would be found charming, even if for him it was simply a movement of his lips, as they all skittered towards the lounge area and settled themselves. Mark did the same and sat on a small armchair in the same white color as all other furniture and waved for one of the remaining bodyguards to pull at the glass wall of the balcony at one side so that the music would be at least a little quitter.

“What are we celebrating, ladies?“ he asked, pulling from the cigarettes, which led it to burn out and the ash to fall on his lap, the hot air in his mouth burning his throat in a familiar and calming way. He pushed the ash off before returning his eyes on them with another smirk. He still gave no name for them to remember, however unlikely that seemed in their state. His blue irises lingered over the blonde before turning to the rest and staying there.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

Mark was enjoying the view a lot and once the blonde’s eyes turned upward he gave her a smile, barely seen in the darkness, and a nod as he put the bud to his lips and inhaled. The reddish glow of the cigarette lightened half of his face for a second before it died down while he kept the smoke in his lungs.

With another wave of his hand Bill approached. The guy had been with him for 12 years, through thick and thin, saved his life three times when they had been doing business outside of Seattle and even took a knife to the side once in a petty squabble when Mark had been caught with his hand under the skirt of a married woman…. And in the bed which she shared with her husband. The man appreciated him more than almost anyone in his life even if on nights like this he didn’t show it as he used him for a busboy.

“Would you be a dear and see if they want to come up? And then you can take the rest of the evening off if you want.” He spoke in his deep voice with slight hints of his British accent in some words. The two men nodded at each other and once the burly bodyguard descended down to the groups of people, Mark pulled away to the couches to get a hit before a party would hopefully unveil.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

So, what do you sing? Anything you want.

[mark-charmichael]

The five women had received a tray of shots and four of them were downing them one after the other, and Mark’s blue eyes were lazily following the action. Money were flying quickly with whatever the celebration was with them. But his interest was on the woman with the red dress. Not only because she looked like a fucking picture and the dress left both a lot and little to his imagination. He was sure he had seen her somewhere and knew the legs under that dress looked good enough to be wrapped around his waist.

He looked at Bill as he finally walked back up alone and rose the hand holding the but of the cigarette. “Get that group one of the good champagnes, and make sure the waitress shakes it enough for a shower, will you?” he said as he pointed at the group. 

He continued leaning on the railing as he watched his order followed, a girl in a very short dress, part of the uniform, coming out from the back after a few minutes with a big bottle on a tray held up in the air, proceeding then to shake while what appeared to be the very inebriated part of the group laughed and then, even through the loud music, he could hear the hysterical laughter that followed while the liquid exploded once the cork was pulled off.

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

[mark-charmichael]

❝Lord help anyone who stands in my way... for I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and I am not afraid to make you wish that I was.

The music was booming around and the club was as packed as expected at 1am on a Friday night. Mark was sitting in the VIP balcony with the guards by the stairs to keep drunk people from trying to sneak up and hookup in the darkness. He was smoking the dozenth cigarette of the night while a girl was on her knees in front of him, pleasuring him without much of his notice but a hand in her hair to show her as not to stop.

His pale blue eyes had been roaming earlier, looking at faces before stopping on the petite with a sloppy but what seemed to be not very experienced mouth on him and he had decided that he wouldn’t see any other to interest him... right up until she had undid his fly and a group of women had walked in through the doors, lit up in neon lights falling from the ceiling. 

Pushing the girl’s face lower so that he can release the building tension he closed his eyes for a few seconds, holding her close before letting her dive up for air, coughing. 

“Thank you, love. You can keep ordering for free until the end of the night“ he smiled a cold smile at her before grabbing a tissue from the low table to get cleaned up and tucking himself in. He ignored her protest and the way her hands sneaked up his body as if to beg for more, motioning for Bill the bodyguard to take her down from the balcony. He rose up to let his eyes wander the group, wondering with very little interest if they were a wild group out for a bachelorette. He lit up another cigarette and leaned at the railing.