A/N (( AU/ OC. Just an idea I came up with, hopefully everyone likes it, again SEASON 5 SPOILERS. The story's based off much of the core season but still lives in its own universe for the sake of the idea I'm running with. I don't own anything, just an avid fan. )

"You got me under a spell
You look like heaven, oh, but you put me through hell
God knows there's nothing to gain
Well who am I to deny, we're both playing the same game
All too familiar, the moment it blows up
Now everything I know seems to fly

And I know that you're no good for me
And it makes no sense at all
Still I keep coming back for more
'Cause I'm addicted to your call
I know you ain't no good for me
And all the lies and the lines you fed to me
The way you kept coming back for me
Like the last breath left of the air I need." – Tristan Prettyman, My oh My.

The darkness always felt superbly weightless, the rushing sensation of air passing around her reminding her that the most beautiful part was always the fall. Spinning so quickly her body became a slender blur she slid down the long seemingly endless length of stark white silk. The stage some fifteen feet below always a constant reminder that there was no safety net and that was just how she liked it. It always served to elicit a heart racing thrill that kept her adrenaline up, and at the same time quieted a part of Dakota that always felt as if it were drowning, being swallowed whole by a static sea. Arching her body outward using only core strength, she reached upward gripping the fabric and pulling herself upward until her hands gripped the edge of the steel hoop. Hooking both legs upward through the hoop she let go and only using her legs she continued to spin, arms outstretched the blue and green lights above the stage casting a dreamlike glow on her skin. Turning slowly, arching her body hands reaching upward as she pulled herself up inside the hoop the crowd around the circular stage slowly became visible as it began to lower down. As the music faded and her silver glitter stacked heels touched the black lacquer stage Dakota was once again thrust back into the forefront of reality, the static sea rushing up to crush her beneath its weight.

The sultry sound of Lana Del Rey's "Diet Mountain Dew" began playing through the clubs sound system and she slipped out of the hoop. Stretching her arms above her head she lowered them down fingertips caressing her throat, feather light touch trailing down along her bare sides the lights gleaming off the rhinestone lingerie. One careful step in front of the other as she gyrated to the beat hips swaying from side to side knowing all eyes were on her, the crush of their applause making the air hard to breath. To the dozens of men watching her dance, she seemed as calm as could be. Each one of them thinking the smile she wore was meant just for them, her touch was their touch, and for those ten minutes on stage she was their personal fantasy an escape from their dismal reality. But there was no real escape for Dakota. That door had closed to her a long time ago and it seemed fate had done everything in its power to lose the key. Once the song ended she blew a kiss to the crowd, a quick wink and proceeded to exit the stage disappearing down the set of stairs and through a dimly lit corridor, the slam of her dressing room door silent in the rush of deafening music.

Had Dakota looked out into the crowd just off the side near the bar she would have seen him, a glass of wild turkey gripped so tightly in his hand the glass nearly shattered. Eyes never leaving her the entire time she moved beneath the spotlights, wanting nothing more than to tear her down from its glare. Destroy every single man who breathed, who dared to imagine even for the slightest second she could possibly be theirs. Using every ounce of will power he remained glued to his post, the whiskey never even touching his lips. Slamming it down on the bar he was moving swiftly through the crowd of people, back out the front door and into the hot sweltering California night. One glance at the leather Cut and people gave him a wide berth, anyone with common sense knew the prominent Reaper patch was the only indication they needed to get the hell out of his way. The roar of the engine cut through the otherwise quiet evening, red tail light glowing in the darkness and fading out of sight down the long stretch of lonely road.

Taking her hands, Dakota splashed a handful of hot water onto her face vigerously scrubbing away the last of her stage makeup. Eyes stinging slightly from the soap, she ignored the discomfort toweling her face dry she blinked hard at her reflection. The door to her dressing room popped open the blaring music pounding in her private space as a tall leggy blonde stepped inside, wearing nothing but a lace and rhinestone thong. Her state of undress was nothing shocking to Dakota, working in a strip club even as high end as Halcyon's you became fairly desensitized towards a wide variety of things. Smiling in a friendly way she acknowledged the other woman.

"Hey Jolie, how many sets you got tonight?"

The blonde returned her smile. "Just two thank god, then I'm off for three days…But hey I can't chat long I just wanted to say you looked great out there, Dean's ecstatic doesn't want to fucking admit your idea kicked ass but it's pulling in the people from town. Have Joshua walk you out to your car…those guys are getting really crazy Dean doesn't want you going out by yourself."

Dakota rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror hands deftly moving to pull her long dark hair into a pony tail.

"You mean Dean doesn't want me assaulting another customer for thinking he can lay a hand on me."

Jolie sighed, her smile fading slightly.

"Baby you broke his hand and fractured his nose…he almost pressed charges. If you would just let Joshua escort you out like he's supposed to these things wouldn't happen, great ideas or not Dean's not going to keep giving you second chances." Jolie chastised softly, knowing it would only serve to annoy the other woman.

Biting her tongue, Dakota held back knowing arguing about the matter wouldn't change anything. Jolie was right it was amazing she hadn't gotten fired for her hot temper already, if it wasn't for the fact that Dean was soft on her she would been out of a job a long time ago.

Full lips pursing together she turned to the look at the blonde again. "Fine, I promise to let Joshua walk me to my car…Have a good night Jolie I'm off til Tuesday have a good weekend."

Nodding Jolie took this as her cue to leave, needing to get on set soon anyway. Rummaging through her bags Dakota stood up from her vanity pulling on a tight fitting pair of blood red skinny jeans, she left them unbuttoned. Turning back to her mirror topless, she stopped to apply a balm to the newest tattoo, a beautifully outlined and shaded rendition of a rosary it snaked around her left side it's intricately designed cross laying along the front of her hip. It was one of many decorating her body, the most noticeable in her collection being the cherry blossoms beginning just behind her right ear and cascading down her shoulder. A solid black heart printed behind her left ear hidden behind her hair. But the most infamous was the name that ran in elaborate script down the inside of her right forearm.

Delaney

Pulling on her black tank top, knee high combat boots soon to follow she buttoned the jeans taking one last look in the mirror. At 26 she had a slender and athletic build, legs that seemed never ending and lovely tan skin from lazy summer afternoons lying out in the sun. High cheek bones and full lips she was ever the picture of unconventional beauty. Glancing at the clock on the wall, its numbers telling her it was almost 1am. Sighing she began cramming her makeup and hair products into the gold metallic Versace duffle bag sitting on her vanity. It was definitely time to go home, that much she could agree on.

Tired and worn out, Dakota trudged through her houses front door shutting it softly behind her hopping on one foot and then the other as she pulled off her long boots. Letting them drop loudly on the polished wood floors, her duffle bag already forgotten in the hall. Scratching her long nails against her scalp she gave a contented sigh running her fingers through her hair pulling out the hair tie. A long hot twenty minute shower later and Dakota emerged from her bathroom wrapped in a thin white towel that stopped mid thigh. Steam billowed out gently from the open doorway behind her, head rising up slowly Dakota's heart stopped. Sitting on the edge of her bed dressed in a black button up shirt and jeans was the last man she ever dreamed to see in her home.

The one, the only Tig Trager.

A/N ((Dakota is the result of a relationship Otto had with another woman when he and Luanne first got together. I would describe her as being an extremely loyal person to the club despite that she's spent an extended amount of time away from it. She's every bit her father's daughter, very intelligent with a hot temper and unavoidable attraction to danger. Later chapters will be rated for sexual situations/swearing etc later on. R-R please.))