#mayantm

“Do you have children?” Jasper question, hand waving to already dismiss his question, cigarette smoke being fanned around in the process. “I have one and she’s still a hassle even if she’s grown up-- she made me watch The Phantom of The Opera and now I’ve got all the whole musical in my head. It’s been two weeks.” Clearly he’s a man at his wit’s end. Save him.

                Anna stooped down so that she could investigate the bike more closely and see if there was anything she could do, especially anything that wouldn’t take too long to fix. She knew how precious a bike was to a man and didn’t want to separate them long.  ❝I can certainly try,❞  she commented.  ❝And if I can’t, well...Samcro oughta fire me.❞  She flashed a teasing grin before going back to the bike again.

the leather that snugs across the broad shoulders of a stranger you’ve seen too many times for coincidence, leaves her puzzled. brooke’s gaze lingered for a moment, manicured brows twitch upward, and she pawns a curious glint in dark sun-glowing irises. was she old enough to be in the bar? ha, barely. and what the hell was someone who had a designer hand-bag tossed over her shoulder doing in a god damn biker bar that would have those long blonde locks lingering the smell of smoke? no idea -- maybe she was trying to ask questions she didn’t need the answers to, maybe she was following a buddy of her father’s she saw sneakily creeping out the backdoor of their house one afternoon..  ❝ mayans huh?  ❞ she taunts a gaze, slinking one leg over the other as if she had any idea what she was talking about.  ❝ let me guess -- book club. ❞ the playful glint in her eyes may not be as appreciated as she first thought. 

never  has  description  of  ‘QUIET’   ––––   or,  frankly,  anything  remotely  akin  to  such  a  considered  trait   –––––   been  bestowed  upon  her.   though  she’s  proved  such,   trembling  digits  baring  about  the  handle  of  the  crimson      stained  point.   STILL  MOVES,   despite  of  the  concern  that’s  knit  into  her  brow,   the  uncertainty,    and  turns  on  her  heel.   ❛                      right.   okay.   sorry. ❜   the  shift  from  stillness  to  solemnity  is  evident.   CRESCENDO   OF   SHEER   STILLNESS   BECOMES   DEAFENING.   the  weapon  is  cold  betwixt  her  fingers,   still  corroded  with  the  freshness  of  the  other’s  brain.   SO, YOU WATCH OBSERVE / CONCLUDE. she  steps  forward,   it  was  truly  a  mistake,   placing  a  hand  soft  to  his  shoulder.  there  may  had  been  a  boundary,   maybe,   but  her  brows  curve  and  perks/    ❛  you     you  okay  ?  cause  . . .  if  not,  i  mean.  you  know.  ❜

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 ✉ RAF ♥ ] ➞ what guy?? [ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 ✉ RAF ♥ ] ➞ ben??? he’s from work. he was driving me nuts last night. probably why i was missing you so bad [ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 ✉ RAF ♥ ] ➞ don’t do what? what do you think i did, rafael?

its what i deserve

          “  so there i was,  “  he begins,  a grand sweep of his hands,  “  the plane going down.  the parachute straps broken.  i had to jump and hold on and hope for the best,  hope that i didn’t let go,  hope that it went off.  “ 

depends. was it a unisex bathroom? follow up question, was it a ladies handwriting?