Feb 26
Got extremely busy irl these months, a lot of bullshit, wasn’t online for so long :(((
BUT ANYWAYS SOME BUBBLES DRAWINGS
Probably won’t be online for a long time again, pls oomfs don’t forget me
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from United States
Got extremely busy irl these months, a lot of bullshit, wasn’t online for so long :(((
BUT ANYWAYS SOME BUBBLES DRAWINGS
Probably won’t be online for a long time again, pls oomfs don’t forget me
GET IN THE CAER!!!!!
idk they might be going back to jail
more memes as an apology for being mega late
“There’s a Girl Across the Road and It’s a Problem”
Description: Julian’s seen a lot of bullshit in Sunnyvale, but nothing like her. The new girl across the road is clean-cut, polite, and soft in all the ways this place isn’t. And Julian doesn’t trust it. She doesn’t belong here
-Slow-burn, and pretty long-
Content Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, sexual content, (fem!reader), mentions of drug use, and themes of emotional manipulation sorta, power dynamics, and eventual NSFW/explicit scenes coming in pt.2.
18+ only. Minors, scram
a/n: guys I’m sorry for being gone a bit, I’ve been doing school and it’s brutal. Anyways enjoy. Smut coming soon hopefully. But I’m in the mood for some tension. Hope y'all like! Reblogs welcomed!!
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Chapter I
There was a clean-cut way about her. Julian could spot it from a mile away. The tucked-in blouses, the curve-hugging bootcut jeans, the soft-spoken “good mornings” she offered while walking past his trailer. They all screamed polished, contained, and uncomfortably out of place.
No one like that moved into Sunnyvale by accident.
She’d shown up about two weeks ago, settling into the trailer just across the road. Two weeks of sunshine smiles, routine trips to work, and the newfound appearance of a potted flowers in her front yard. Julian hadn’t introduced himself. He didn’t see the point.
People like her didn’t last long here.
Worse, they sometimes did.
She was some daycare teacher. Steady job, perfect credit score, and no criminal record. Jim Lahey practically salivated to get her into the park, calling her a “breath of fresh air” to anyone who’d listen.
But Julian didn’t buy it. Any woman with such an outward appearance of innocence spurred skepticism in Julian. He had his reasons. Tanya had taught him well. She’d worn a similar smile. Played up her helplessness just enough to sink her claws in. He had made the mistake of taking a woman at face value once. And once was enough for him to learn his lesson.
But still, He watched silently from across the street. Not in an obvious way. He wasn’t Ricky. But over the last couple weeks, Julian caught himself noticing more than he should: her arms full of groceries, how she danced to her headphones while vacuuming, the way her laugh drifted faintly across the road when she chatted with Bubbles.
She was too sweet.
Too damn soft.
He didn’t trust softness.
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Chapter II
The afternoon sun was beating down. Saturday’s reprieve from her busy daycare job was being wasted, as Y/N had been struggling to unpack her belongings. She looked around the trailer’s living room, exasperated with her own lack of progress. Currently, her living situation was weaving between opened, but not unpacked, brown boxes. Her queen-sized mattress was still on the floor, the desk untouched in the corner, and her body ached from the awkward sleeping situation. Despite her outward put-together image, the inside of her trailer was still very much a work in progress. She really didn’t want to struggle through putting together her bedframe. So, in the spirit of procrastination, she began to unpack the boxes she had been putting off for the last two weeks. Slowly she made progress, having her kitchen stuff put away, and all her pale blue matching appliances placed neatly on the countertop. Even y/n’s living room was beginning to look livable. Her grey couch, wooden coffee table, and flowery area rug were no longer obscured by the mess of moving boxes. The trailer looked more like a home. Y/N’s bedroom was also quite nice now. Her clothes were put away in her closet, and her nightstands were set up on either side of the bed. However, her new bedframe and desk were still in their boxes, propped up against the wall in the short hallway.
She sighed.
“Eh… I’ll get to that tomorrow,” she muttered aloud, even though she knew damn well tomorrow wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Still, the space was starting to look like a home. Her matching pale blue kitchen appliances lined the counters perfectly, and the grey couch and flowery rug gave the living room some warmth.
It was all so her, soft, bright, hopeful.
She didn’t realize how much it clashed with the world just outside her door.
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Tuesday had rolled around. Julian had been holed up in his trailer with Ricky, pouring over fudged receipts he’d have to redo.
“Ricky, what the fuck were you doing with these?” Julian snapped, waving the crumpled pages in the air.
Ricky shrugged, joint dangling from his lips. “Fucking nothing, man. The computer was being all fucked and shit so maybe there’s a few typos and shit. That’s not on me.” Ricky replied, defensively.
Julian rubbed his temples, already done with this day, with Ricky, with everything. As per usual, if he wanted something done, Julian would just have to do it himself. He pushed himself off the couch and headed to the kitchen, topping off his rum and coke with a bit more rum than coke.
Turning to head back to the couch, through the front window, Julian caught site of his neighbour. Julian wasn’t the nosey type, but the sight he saw had him pausing to make sense of what he was seeing.
Y/N, in her living room, crouched awkwardly on the floor in nothing but a bra and a pair of sleep shorts. She was struggling to assemble her desk; clearly unaware the world could see her through the window.
Julian didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
She was flushed, muttering something to herself as she tried to jam one piece into another. Her hair was a mess, sticking to her forehead in strands. There was nothing deliberate about it. No performance. No seduction. Just her. Real, soft, frustrated.
Julian was almost in awe of how unkempt his seemingly modest neighbour was. Seeing her in this state began to paint a different picture of her in his head. A picture of just a regular person. “Fuck she’s hot.” Ricky spoke; head turned towards the window now. “Shut up, Ricky.” He replied. He crossed the room and yanked the curtains shut, jaw clenched tight.
He had enough shit on his plate. He didn’t need this.
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Chapter III
A while later, in Y/N’s Trailer
Somewhere between the missing instruction manual and stripped screws, Y/N admitted defeat. She padded into the kitchen and pulled the corded phone off the wall, dialing the one number she hoped would bring wine and sympathy. After a few moments, Y/N heard someone pick up. “Hey babes, what’s up?” Sarah said on the other side of the line. Loud shouting echoing in the background. “Hey girl, I was wondering if you wanted to crack into a bottle of white with me, and put this dumbass desk together? I’ve been struggling for hours.” Y/N spoke. There was a pause on Sarah’s end, the silence being filled with a loud crash and more yelling. “Sorry, girl. Can’t. Ricky showed up drunk and high, and now he and Lucy are screaming at each other. I gotta stay here and make sure no one throws a chair through a window.” Sarah finally spoke, followed by a strained laugh. Y/N slumped against the counter. “Great. There goes my plan to bribe you with chardonnay.”
“Julian lives across from you, doesn’t he?” Sarah said, and Y/N could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Go askhim. I’m sure he’s got time.”
There was another loud bang, and a man’s voice cursing about hitting his head on a cupboard door. “I can’t just—” Y/N paused. “He barely talks to me.” Sarah scoffed. “So? Just bat those Disney princess eyes and ask. He’s always helping people out around the park.” Y/N laughed softly, said her goodbyes and hung up, not wanting any part of this lover’s quarrel. Maybe this was a chance for her to get to know her evasive neighbour.
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Chapter IV
Julian was still on the couch, fixing Ricky’s mistakes. Bubbles had stopped by earlier, but had since left to take some shopping carts to the mall, and sell them back. Julian was trying hard to concentrate, but kept mauling over something Bubbles had said during his brief visit earlier that day. “I don’t know Julian, she seems like a nice lady, Y/N. She brought by this kitty she found at work. Said he’d be better off here in the trailer park than wandering around town.” Bubbles pulled back one of the curtains as he spoke. “Nothing fishy about her. You just don’t like her because you’ve got the hots for her.” Julian had denied his accusations. Now it was later in the evening. The sun had already set, and aside from the occasional barking of dogs, the park was quiet.
The knock was soft.
Julian barely looked up from the receipts, already knowing who it was. Ricky had wandered off somewhere, and the trailer was quiet again. When he opened the door, Y/N stood there, hands folded in front of her, a hesitant smile on her lips. “Hi. I, uh… I’m sorry to bother you,” she began. “But I’m struggling with this desk. And Sarah’s busy, and, would you maybe mind helping me?”
Julian stared at her for a moment too long. Her tank top clung to her curves, bra strap slightly visible beneath the thin fabric. He hated how quickly his brain betrayed him, flashing images of her bent over, her mouth open, her voice breathy.
He cleared his throat.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll help.”
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The desk wasn’t complicated. Julian had it assembled in under ten minutes. She hovered nearby, glass of wine in one hand, a refill of rum and coke in the other, watching with wide, curious eyes.
“Thank you so much, Julian,” she said, offering him a refill of his drink. “I didn’t think it’d be that heavy, or hard. But I guess that’s what I get for buying it online.”
He shrugged, taking the glass from her. “No problem.” Her voice lowered, almost teasing. “Thank God I have such a strapping neighbor.” Julian’s jaw tightened. Suddenly he remembered, he shouldn’t be there.
Julian subconsciously licked his lips, inhaling sharply through his nose, before breaking their eye contact. He was unsettled by the disturbing thoughts racing through his brain. A fistful of her h/c hair, her soft lips wrapped around his cock, and those innocent doe eyes looking up at him while he was fucking her throat. Julian took a sip of his drink, blinking away the image in his mind. Y/N laughed, smiling sweetly up at him. He wanted nothing more than to see her mascara running down that sweet little face. Would her moans be just as sweet as her laugh? How long could he have her bent over that new desk before she was a babbling mess on his cock? God, he needed to snap out of this. He shot a tight-lipped smile back at her, followed by a quick nod. “Ricky and I have some work to do soon,” he said quickly, deflecting. “I should head back.”
Julian crossed the kitchen towards the door, before he paused in front of the hallway. But before he could leave, he caught sight of the unopened bedframe in the hallway.
“You still need to put that together?”
Y/N followed his gaze, hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… still haven’t gotten around to it.”
He didn’t even wait for her to ask. “I’ll do it.” Y/N turned to face him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Inwardly she was battling whether to shoo him out or not, the sticky feeling between her legs needing desperate attention. But shouldn’t she take advantage of the free labour?
Julian picked up the box like it was nothing, drink still in one hand, sparking a familiar throbbing in Y/N’s cunt. She awkwardly followed him to her bedroom.
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The mattress was pushed up against the wall. Julian worked fast, steady, efficient. Y/N watched from the doorway, her pulse beating fast for reasons that had little to do with gratitude. The way his arms flexed, the calm command in his tone, it stirred something in her. Something desperate.
As he lowered the mattress onto the newly built frame, she stepped around him to smooth the sheets. Her body brushed his. His breath caught. She was so close. And when she bent to fix the covers, the hem of her shorts rode up just enough to make him clench his fists. He took a long sip from his drink, trying not to trace the curve of her ass and thighs.
She didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe she did.
The phone rang in the kitchen, and she slipped out to answer it. Julian stood in the bedroom; eyes fixed on the spot where she’d just been. From the kitchen he heard her say “Yeah, he’s here. I’ll tell him.” He already knew it was Lucy or Sarah, calling him about Ricky’s bullshit. He stepped out into the hallway, giving her a quiet nod as he passed.
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Chapter V
Julian didn’t sleep that night. He lay in bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling while the shadows shifted above him. Outside, the trailer park settled into its usual late-night chaos, Ricky yelling at a barking dog from the car, Bubbles humming to his cats, and the faint rumble of Lahey’s cruiser circling like a buzzard. But inside Julian’s trailer, it was still.
Still and far too quiet for a man with a mind racing the way his was. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Bending over the bed, adjusting the covers, her voice light and cheerful as if she had no idea the effect she had on him. Or maybe she did. Maybe that was the worst part.
She was soft.
Warm.
Curious.
And Julian wanted to ruin that in ways he hadn’t wanted in years.
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It’d been a few days since Julian had helped Y/N put together her desk and bed. Julian tried to focus on the shitstorm Ricky had stirred up, more fake invoices, another busted car door, something about a missing stash, but his mind kept wandering. More accurately, his mind kept drifting back across the street, to her.
Y/N. With her perfect posture and well-worn copy of Little Women tucked under her arm. Y/N, who wore cutesy little sundresses and leaned too close when she handed him a glass. Y/N, who bent over her bed like she didn’t know what she was doing to him. Or worse, like she did.
He couldn’t decide which would worst.
He’d been careful since Tanya. Never again, he told himself. No more falling for a pretty face hiding a sharp edge. And yet… every time he thought of Y/N’s flushed cheeks, her soft voice saying “sweetheart,” he felt himself slipping.
She hadn’t knocked on his door since he built her bed. No casual wave through the window. Just quiet. Distance. Which should’ve made it easier, but it didn’t.
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Chapter VI
The weekend – Late Morning
Y/N slept in.
The sun filtered through her curtains in soft gold; the kind of light that made everything feel hopeful. Her body was buzzing from her unresolved issues a few days prior. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Julian looked under the dim bedroom light, stoic, quiet, muscles flexing as he worked without a word. He hadn’t made a move, hadn’t lingered, hadn’t even looked at her too long. But she felt something in the air.
And it made her stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t felt since she was sixteen.
After a quick shower, she threw on a little sundress, soft blue, fluttery hem, one that made her feel feminine without trying too hard. She didn’t plan to see him. But part of her hoped she might.
She stepped outside with a bag of garbage, pretending to fuss with the bins longer than necessary. Across the street, his door creaked open.
Julian emerged shirtless, cigarette hanging from his mouth, rum and coke in one hand, and a clipboard under his arm. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, and the morning sun carved every line across his chest.
He caught her staring.
Y/N blushed and quickly looked away. But not fast enough.
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A week later – The Grocery Store
She was standing in front of the dairy cooler, trying to decide between almond and oat milk when his voice slid in beside her.
“You’ll just end up throwing that almond shit out.”
She turned, startled, then smiled.
“Julian.”
He stood there in his all-black uniform: tight t-shirt, jeans, sunglasses. Casual, but imposing. He nodded toward the pink capped 2%.
“Go with that one. The real shit.”
She tilted her head, amused. “Your grocery shopping too?”
“Only ‘cause Ricky forgets everything on the list.”
He held up a basket filled with cereal, and three packs of hot dogs.
“Very nutritious,” she said with a smirk.
“Balanced diet,” he replied. “Protein, carbs, regret.”
They walked down the aisle together, neither saying much, but neither moving away. It was comfortable in a way that made her heart race.
She stopped in front of the peanut butter. He stopped just behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne under the tobacco.
“Smooth or crunchy?” she asked.
His voice dropped slightly. “Smooth.”
She swallowed. “Figures.”
“Why?”
“You seem like the kind of guy who likes things easy.”
Julian was unreadable. “You have no idea what kind of guy I am.” Their eyes met. A moment passed too long. He gave her a nod and continued down the aisle. Heart racing, she turned back to the shelves, pulse thundering in her ears.
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Chapter VII
That Evening – Her Trailer
It started with a knock again. Julian stood at her door with a small tool kit in one hand.
“You said the cabinet in your kitchen was loose.”
She blinked, surprised. “I… yeah. I did. two weeks ago.”
“I remembered.”
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, and she stepped aside, heart fluttering.
She watched him work again, quiet, focused, grounded in a way that made her ache. There was something deeply masculine about how he existed in a space. Like it bent itself around him without permission.
“Thank you,” she said, offering him a drink. “You don’t have to keep fixing all my stuff.”
“I know.”
He took the drink anyway.
They sat on the couch. Close. Too close. The room felt charged.
“I feel like you don’t like me,” she said suddenly. Julian raised an eyebrow. “I just fixed your cabinet.”
“You avoid me. You barely talk.”
“I don’t do small talk.” She nodded. “What do you do?”
His eyes held hers, sharp and unreadable.
“I do real talk. Or none at all.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Okay. Then what do you want to say?” He leaned back on the couch, stretching an arm along the top behind her. She felt the heat of his body, the quiet weight of that gaze.
“You don’t belong here,” he said finally.
Her lips parted. “Excuse me?”
“You’re too… soft. Too good. This place’ll chew that up.”
“I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or not.”
“You’re too soft.”
That landed deeper than she expected.
She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I’m not as soft as you think.”
“I’ve seen you dancing in your kitchen.” She smiled. “Spying?”
“You keep your blinds open,” he admitted. “Hard not to notice things.”
Their eyes met again.
Silence stretched, slow and heavy.
She tilted her head, voice low. “What else do you notice?”
Julian didn’t answer.
Instead, his hand moved, just slightly, just enough to brush her shoulder. It stayed there, fingers lightly grazing her skin, barely a touch. But it burned.
Y/N’s breath hitched. “Julian…” His eyes dropped to her lips. And for a moment, he leaned in.
So fucking close.
But he stopped. A breath away. His voice was a rasp. “Don’t let me do this.” Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up and touched his wrist.
“I won’t stop you.”
He swore under his breath, low and sharp, before pulling away completely. “I need to go.” Y/N stayed frozen on the couch, skin still tingling where he’d touched her. The screen door clicked shut behind him. Y/N exhaled, heart pounding, knowing this was only the beginning of something dangerous.
Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.
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Chapter VIII
Thursday Evening had rolled around. Y/N stood in her bathroom, toweling her hair dry. She still hadn’t shaken the heat from Sunday night, not just from how Julian’s arms looked, screwdriver in hand, but from the electricity of having him in her space. Close enough to touch. Close enough to smell the sharp tang of his cologne and the softness of his aftershave.
He’d almost kissed her. And if it weren’t for how standoffish he’d been all week, she would have thought she imagined it.
He’d stared down at her like he was fighting himself—and losing.
She liked that.
God help her, she liked the idea of someone like him losing control for someone like her.
She slipped into her usual bedtime getup: matching cropped sweater and fuzzy sleep shorts that barely counted. No bra. She wasn’t expecting company. But when she wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water and saw his lights still on… an idea sparked. She hesitated at the door, hand resting on the knob. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped outside.
Julian wasn’t expecting a knock. Certainly not this knock- soft, hesitant, uncertain. When he opened the door and saw her, his gut tightened. She stood barefoot on his porch, clutching a bowl awkwardly in both hands.
“Hey,” she said, quiet and sweet. “I made banana bread.”
Julian stared. “You… baked?”
She smiled. “I do that sometimes. Helps me relax.”
His eyes flicked down—bare legs, warm skin, tiny shorts. Fuck. He stepped aside, silently inviting her in. “I thought maybe you’d like some,” she added, slipping inside. “For helping with the desk, and the bed, and the cabinet.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” That stopped him cold. She met his eyes, and for once, there wasn’t a single trace of girlish teasing in her gaze. Just honesty. And heat. Julian clenched his jaw. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
He stepped closer. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you bake banana bread for.” But Y/N didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’m not as sweet as you think.” Julian laughed, low and dark. “You want me to believe that?” He was eyeing her fuzzy blue lounge set, something straight off a mannequin at La Senza. She just shrugged, pretending to be casual. “You haven’t really tried to get to know me.” She replied. Her words hit like a slap. They were true. Despite how much he was trying not to get close, he kept choosing to put himself in her space. And now Julian was suddenly inches away from her, the tension thick enough to choke on. “Thanks,” he said, voice rough. “For the banana bread.”
“Well, thank you for being a good neighbour.” She stepped back out the door. He cursed under his breath and turned away, pacing. This was insanity. She was twenty-one. He was pushing forty. He’d seen shit she couldn’t imagine, done things she shouldn’t ever have to understand. He shouldn’t touch her. But the moment she reached out and touched his arm, light, hesitant, he was lost.
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Chapter IX
It was just past noon, and Julian had already gone through half a bottle of rum. Not that Ricky noticed. He was too busy munching on pepperoni sticks, and already drunk himself.
“You’re tellin’ me you went over there, put her bed together, and then just walked the fuck out?” Ricky’s eyes were wide with disbelief, a lit joint hanging dangerously off his bottom lip. “What the fuck, Julian?” Bubbles peered through his glasses, clearly trying to stay neutral, but not succeeding. “That girl’s real sweet, Julian. Real sweet. You sure you’re not just scared to admit you like her?”
Julian took a long pull from his drink and said nothing. Not because he didn’t have a response, but because he had too many. She’d been in his head every hour of every day since that night. That goddamn sundress. The way she looked at him like she didn’t know what she was doing, but still dared him to do something about it. “I’m not scared,” Julian muttered finally.
Ricky scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re fucking chicken.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Fuck off, Ricky.” He wasn’t looking for another hook up. Yet he also wasn’t sure if he was looking to settle down. Because the version of himself he tried to keep under control, the one built on instinct, need, and power, was banging on the fucking door. Every time she looked at him with those wide eyes, spoke to him with that soft voice…
He wanted to ruin her.
“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute, though?” Bubbles said, gently patting a kitten off his lap. “She made you tea the other day, didn’t she?” Julian grimaced. “She steeped it. Put honey in it. Fuckin’ stirred it and everything.” Bubbles laughed, delighted. “Well that fucking domestic.”
“Exactly,” Julian snapped. “I’m not built to be domestic. She’s the kind of girl who knits and has cute mugs with flowers and shit. What the hell am I gonna do with that, man?” Ricky barked out a laugh. “You know exactly what you’re gonna do with that.”
Julian stood abruptly, jaw clenched, heading for the door. He needed air. He needed distance. He needed to stop thinking about what her thighs would feel like around his waist.
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Across the Street – Y/N’s Trailer
She had the window open again.
Julian leaned against the hood of his car, sunglasses on, drink in hand, trying to act like he wasn’t watching her fold laundry while mouthing the words to some old country song. She was wearing shorts again.
Of course she was. He couldn’t fucking breathe.
She danced a little as she folded, hips swaying, unbothered and content in her own world. No idea how close he was to losing his goddamn mind.
Or maybe she did know.
He didn’t trust it.
He didn’t trust her innocence, or his reaction to it. Because when she looked up and caught him watching, she didn’t blush this time. She smiled. And that smile? It wasn’t shy anymore.
It was curious.
It was mischievous.
Julian turned, heading toward his trailer, muttering, “Fuck this.”
That Evening – Her Front Porch
He wasn’t sure why he walked over. Just that he did. One minute he was pacing around his living room like a caged dog. The next, he was knocking on her door like he wasn’t seconds from doing something stupid. Y/N opened the door barefoot, in another damn tank top that did nothing to hide the swell of her chest.
“Julian,” she said, surprised. “Everything okay?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing his voice low. “You still need that dresser built?” She blinked. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, I haven’t even taken it out of the box yet.”
He nodded once. “Then let’s get it done.”
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The box was heavier than it looked.
Julian dropped it beside the wall and started pulling out pieces without waiting for instruction. He needed something to do with his hands. Needed to keep his focus off the way her scent filled the room. She sat on the bed behind him, sipping from a mug. “You don’t have to keep helping me, you know.”
“I know.”
A beat passed. Quiet.
“Then why do you?”
He didn’t look up. “Because it’s easier to fix your furniture than think about all the shit I want to do to you.” The silence after that was deafening. Y/N swallowed, setting her mug on the nightstand. “You’ve been thinking about it?” Julian set down the screwdriver, hands braced on his knees. Still not facing her.
“Every goddamn day.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t joke to lighten it. She just said, softly, “You haven’t done anything.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Why?”
Julian turned then, slowly, eyes locking onto hers, darker than she’d ever seen them.
“Because once I do, there’s no going back. And I don’t think you understand what that means.” Y/N’s throat went dry. “Then explain it to me.” He stood, crossing the room in two steps. She backed up instinctively until the backs of her knees hit the bed. His hand reached out, curling loosely around her wrist, not tight, just there. His voice dropped to a warning growl. “It means the second I let myself touch you the way I want to, you’re mine. No games. No pretending. No getting to walk away when you decide it’s too much.” Her breath hitched.
“And is that what you want?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
Julian stared at her for a long moment. Then slowly, carefully, he let her go.
“You should think about that,” he said. “Before I stop giving you the choice.”
And then he walked out, leaving her standing there, skin buzzing, knees weak, wanting nothing more than to stop thinking.
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Chapter X
It was nearing noon when Y/N stepped out into the crisp spring air, a small plastic grocery bag tucked under her arm. She’d been feeling cooped up, stir-crazy. The Julian situation, whatever it was, had her walking mental circles all morning.
The tension from that night at the club hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse. He’d acted like nothing happened. So, naturally, she did too. But every time she caught him outside, shirt tight over those ridiculous arms and sunglasses hiding half his expression, she wanted to scream. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
She crossed the trailer park and made her way to the shed, the familiar sound of tools clinking and soft mews echoing out into the sun.
“Hey, Bubs,” she called, peeking her head in. Bubbles looked up from where he was reattaching a wheel to a cat stroller. “Y/N! Hey there. What’s up?” She stepped inside, the smell of sawdust and warm fur wrapping around her like a blanket. “Brought a little something for your crew.”
She held out the bag of cat food. Bubbles took it like it was gold, eyes widening. “Frig, this is the good stuff! Real meat, no by-products… You’re spoilin’ ‘em more than I do.”
“Just returning the favour,” she said with a grin. “You helped me with my cat situation, remember?” He gave a modest shrug. They chatted for a bit while Bubbles worked, Y/N kneeling to peek at the new kitten in the crate. Then, after a brief pause, Bubbles glanced sideways at her.
“You seen Julian lately?”
Y/N’s spine stiffened just slightly. “A bit.”
He hummed. “He mentioned you the other day. Said you were ‘settling in okay.’ Which is Julian-speak for ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about her and don’t know what to do with my hands.’”
Y/N barked out a laugh, caught off guard. “Oh really?”
“I’m readin’ between the lines. He’s not great with feelings—unless it’s for rum or stress.”
“Or Ricky,” Y/N added.
“Exactly,” Bubbles grinned. “But you… you’re new. You’re clean-cut, steady job, all that. You make him nervous.”
Y/N’s brows lifted, feigning offense. “I’m not that boring.”
“No,” Bubbles said, more serious now. “You’re just… good. He’s used to people who want somethin’ from him. You don’t. And I think that messes with his head.” She bit her lip, glancing down at her hands. “I don’t think he’s really looking for something right now, or with me.”
“Oh, he is,” Bubbles said. “He just pretends he isn’t. It’s Julian’s way of not screwing things up.” He moved toward a nearby crate, pulling out a toy mouse and tossing it gently into a pen. “If I were you… I’d keep being yourself. Don’t play it cool just ‘cause he is.”
Y/N looked up at him, eyes searching. “You think it’s worth it?” Bubbles gave her a rare, firm nod. “I do. Julian’s got his shit, yeah, but he’s a good guy. And if you’re the person who makes him actually believe in something better… well, I’d call that a damn miracle.”
Y/N smiled; a bit dazed. “Thanks, Bubs.”
He waved her off, blushing slightly. “Don’t thank me. I’ve got a good tux for when the time comes.” She was still laughing when she stepped out of the shed. The conversation left her heart a little lighter, stomach a little flutterier.
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Chapter XI
The party at Sarah and Lucy’s was already in full swing by the time Julian showed up. He wasn’t much for parties unless he had a reason—and tonight, he wasn’t sure if he did or didn’t. Ricky had been bugging him to come by, and he figured it was better to keep an eye on the idiot than to hear about a blown-out trailer later. Bass thumped through the thin walls of the double-wide. Julian stepped inside, greeted by the familiar haze of cheap weed and perfume. Ricky was already blitzed, hunched over the kitchen sink arguing with the toaster like it had personally wronged him.
Julian rolled his eyes and scanned the crowd for trouble—mostly the usual faces. Then his gaze caught on her.
Y/N was out back.
Through the sliding glass door, he spotted her standing on the deck, laughing at something Sarah said, holding a red Solo cup in one hand… and a cigarette in the other.
He blinked, once.
Then twice.
Nope. Not a fruity flavoured vape.
Y/N was smoking.
He wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The sight of the cigarette between her fingers or the fact that she was doing it like she’d done it before. His first reaction was disbelief. His second was irritation. And his third, which came too fast for his own comfort, was… arousal.
‘What the fuck.’
Julian slid the door open and stepped out. The night air was cool, but not enough to keep the backyard from being packed with people. Y/N noticed him immediately, her expression didn’t falter, didn’t shift like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Julian,” she said with a smile, lifting her cup. “Didn’t think you were coming.” He ignored the pleasantries, eyes locked on the cigarette. “Didn’t think you smoked.”
She took a drag, held it, and exhaled slowly. “Don’t usually. Just felt like one tonight.”
Julian stared at her, arms folded across his chest, drink still in hand. The smoke curled up into her hair, catching in the soft light of the patio lanterns.
“You got a problem with it?” she asked, tone casual but curious.
“Didn’t say that,” he muttered. “Just surprised.”
She offered him the cigarette. “Want a drag?”
He shook his head, jaw clenched. “No, I’m quitting.”
“Well, so am I. Guess we’re both liars tonight.”
That grin she gave him, it was knowing. Teasing. Almost dangerous in the way it danced on her lips like she knew exactly what kind of chaos she was stirring in him. He took a long sip of his drink, trying to cool down the heat rising in his chest. “You trying to prove something?”
“Not everything I do is about you, Julian.” Her voice was smooth, amused. But when she stepped a little closer, her smile dimmed, softened into something smaller. “But it’s nice to know you’re watching.”
Goddamn it.
He wanted to drag her into the shadows and show her that he wasn’t a guy you teased. He wanted to press her against the trailer wall, hand on her throat, that cigarette still warm on her breath. Instead, he reached down, plucked the cigarette from her fingers, and flicked it over the deck railing.
“Hey—!”
“You don’t need that,” he muttered.
She blinked. “You mad?”
He met her eyes. “Yeah.”
“It’s not like we’re together, Julian.”
“You don’t get to walk around here being perfect, then do shit like that and make it look hot.”
Y/N’s lips parted slightly. The silence stretched.
Then she laughed, quietly, breathily, like it surprised her too. “You think I’m perfect?” Julian didn’t answer. He just turned away and stepped back into the house, heart pounding, glass nearly empty. He didn’t see her eyes linger on him as he left, or the small smile tug at the corner of her mouth.
______________________________________________________________________________
Julian had watched her from a distance the whole night, his drink going untouched in his hand. The twitch in his jaw was back, tighter now, harder. He watched as Y/N danced around in a short, tight party dress. A major shift from her usual daytime attire.
That’s when Ricky wandered over, absolutely fucked. He slapped a hand on Julian’s shoulder like they were sharing a joke. “Man, you’re a dumbass, you know that?” Julian’s eyebrow lifted, dangerously slow. “What?” Ricky leaned in, slurring. “You got that across the street from you? She’s got the hots for you, and you’re just sittin’ there actin’ like you don’t got a dick.” Julian shoved him off, taking a sip from his glass, and wandered out onto the porch.
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Chapter XII
The party had started to taper off. A few die-hards were still on the porch, yelling about hash coins and drinking warm beer, but most of the crowd had either passed out inside or stumbled back to their own trailers. Julian hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner of the living room. He was nursing what might’ve been his eighth rum and coke, pretending he gave a shit about whatever Corey and Trevor were rambling about. But his eyes kept drifting to the sliding glass door.
Waiting.
Eventually, he saw her. Y/N stepped out from the house, denim jacket over her shoulders, Solo cup gone. Her hair was a little messier than before, like she’d been laying down or running her fingers through it too much. The cigarette was gone too. Good. She glanced over her shoulder once, then started walking across the lawn toward her trailer.
Alone. Julian didn’t think about it. He just moved.
By the time she was halfway to the gravel path, he’d caught up.
“You gonna walk home by yourself?” he asked. She jumped slightly, then turned, eyes softening when she saw it was him. “Didn’t realize I had a bodyguard.”
“You don’t,” he said, matching her pace. “It’s dark. You’re tipsy. Lotta raccoons around.”
She laughed under her breath. “Raccoons?”
“They’re fuckin’ ruthless this time of year.”
The path between Lucy’s place and her trailer wasn’t far, but it was just long enough to let the quiet settle between them. Gravel crunched under their shoes. The party noise faded behind them, leaving only the hum of distant power lines and the chirp of insects in the trees. Y/N shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “You always this dramatic about a cigarette?”
Julian glanced sideways. “I’m not mad about the cigarette.” She tilted her head. “Could’ve fooled me.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—” He stopped himself, shook his head. “You’re not like the other people around here.” She smirked. “You keep saying that. Starting to think it’s an insult.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it?” Julian didn’t answer right away. They reached her trailer steps. She paused at the bottom, and he stood one step below, close enough that her perfume mixed with the damp scent of night air. He looked at her, really looked at her—bare legs, tight dress, arms not pulled through the sleeves of her jacket, eyes catching the light like warm glass. “You’re good,” he said finally. “Too good for this place.”
Y/N blinked. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
She searched his face, trying to read him. “You act like that’s a compliment, but I’m starting to get irritated by it.” Julian’s jaw flexed. He didn’t respond. Didn’t trust himself to. “I’m not made of glass, Julian,” she said softly. “You don’t have to keep looking at me like I’m gonna break if you touch me.” He stepped forward before he could stop himself. One hand on the trailer’s railing, the other barely grazing her thigh. His voice dropped low, quiet.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
Her breath caught. “Then what are you worried about?” The silence between them turned heavier, charged. She didn’t move away. Didn’t speak. Then the porch light above them flickered to life, motion sensor. It was enough to snap them both out of it.
Julian cleared his throat, stepped back. “Get some sleep.”
She lingered a second longer, watching him.
Then she nodded. “Goodnight, Julian.”
He turned and walked away, not looking back. And she stood there on the steps, lips parted, heart beating a little too fast, wondering just how much longer either of them could keep pretending.
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Chapter XIII
Julian’s phone buzzed around four in the afternoon.
He glanced at the screen.
Y/N: Any chance you could pick me up from work? My ride bailed.
Y/N: I’ll buy you dinner.
Julian didn’t even hesitate before texting back.
Julian: Be there in ten.
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The daycare was on the edge of Dartmouth, wedged between a curling rink and an empty strip mall. Julian pulled up to the curb and spotted her right away—standing outside with her bag slung over one shoulder, waving at a coworker who was heading in the opposite direction.
She looked… Fuck. She looked cute.
Her hair was in a half-up ponytail, a little messy from the long day, and she wore a white cardigan over a light sundress dotted with little flowers. Pastel sneakers. A heart-shaped lanyard around her neck. Julian blinked once, slowly, trying not to look too hard. But there was no helping it, his chest tightened in a way he didn’t like. Y/N opened the door and slid into the passenger seat with a smile, cheeks a little flushed from the heat. “Thanks for coming.”
“You bribe me with food. Smart move.” She laughed and buckled in. “You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Good,” she grinned. “There’s a drive-thru just a few blocks away. You like burgers?”
He gave her a side glance. “What kind of question is that?” She just smiled, content, as they pulled away from the curb.
______________________________________________________________________________
They rolled through the drive-thru, windows down, the smell of grease and summer air thick in the cab. Y/N placed their order with the kind of practiced sweetness that made Julian glance at her out of the corner of his eye.
“You flirt with the speaker box like that with everyone?” he muttered.
“It’s called manners. You should try it sometime.”
When they pulled up to the pay window, she reached for her purse in her lap—but instead of passing him the cash, she leaned across him to hand it directly to the cashier. Julian froze. She was practically in his lap, soft cardigan brushing against his chest, gourmand perfume in his nose. One of her hands landed lightly on his thigh for balance, and he swore under his breath. The cashier handed back the change, but Julian barely registered it. His whole body had gone still, like something hot and sharp had lodged under his skin. Y/N sat back in her seat, casually organizing the receipt. “You okay?”
He gripped the steering wheel. “What was that?”
“What?”
“You leaned all the way over me.”
“I was paying,” she said, blinking innocently. “You want me to give you my purse next time or something?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She tilted her head, smile twitching at the edges. “You sure? You’re looking kind of tense.”
Julian exhaled through his nose. “Don’t play fucking dumb with me.”
“Fuck, hangry much”
Their food arrived at the next window. Y/N took the bags, thanking the worker again with that syrupy voice, and settled back into her seat like nothing had happened. Julian didn’t speak until they were halfway down the street, the smell of fries thick between them, the heat from her still lingering on his skin. “You do this on purpose,” he muttered. She popped a fry in her mouth, legs crossed, voice light. “Do what?”
“Push me.”
Y/N glanced at him with a slow, deliberate smile.
“Maybe I just like the view from the passenger seat.”
Goddamn it.
He gripped the wheel tighter, shifting in his seat. This girl, this soft, good, sunshine-wrapped girl, had him wrapped around her finger.
And the worst part?
He liked it.
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Chapter XIV
Julian pulled the car off the main road, tires crunching on gravel as he turned down the old access lane behind the elementary school. The path opened into a clearing near the forgotten soccer field, long grass swallowing the posts, the swing set rusting quietly in one corner. No cars. No people. Just them and the sharp tang of summer dust. He cut the engine. Silence wrapped around them, thick and humming. Secluded. Quiet. Y/N peeled open her burger wrapper, legs curled up in the seat like she owned it. “Didn’t peg you for a scenic-eating kind of guy.”
“I’m not,” Julian said. “Just don’t like eating with a lineup of cars behind me.”
“Right,” she smirked. “You’re so mysterious.” He didn’t answer—just reached for a fry, eyes flicking to her knee, where her sundress had slipped just enough to show a little more of her thigh. He looked away just as fast.
But she noticed.
She always did.
“So,” she said casually, picking at her food, “was I imagining things, or were you actually flustered earlier?”
Julian turned toward her, brows raised. “At the drive-thru?”
She nodded, chewing slowly, eyes innocent.
“You leaned over me like you were trying to climb in my lap.”
“I was paying for dinner.”
“You were in my space.”
Her voice dropped just a hair. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
That was it. That was the spark.
Julian leaned across the console before he could talk himself out of it, fingers curling around her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. Her breath hitched—but she didn’t pull away. She tilted into him.
And then he kissed her.
God, her lips were soft. Sweet from soda and still warm from the sun. She made this quiet sound, almost a sigh, and that was nearly enough to break him. He deepened it without thinking, tasting her, pulling her closer like he needed her to breathe. She climbed halfway over the console to meet him, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his shirt. Her body molded against his, small and warm and eager, like she’d been waiting for this just as long.
It was firm at first, urgent, frustrated, but softened when she made a small, almost startled sound in her throat. Her hand slid to his chest, anchoring herself, and he pulled her closer. The kiss deepened. Hungry. Months of stolen looks and smartass remarks and tension wrapped up in that one moment.
And Julian wanted her.
He wanted to have her so bad.
But just when her fingers started to drift lower, to the hem of his shirt, he stopped.
He pulled back, panting, hand still cradling her jaw.
She blinked, dazed. “What—?”
“We’re not doing this here.”
Y/N swallowed, voice small. “Why not?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Because I’m not fucking you in the backseat like some drunk hookup behind the Legion.”
Her breath caught.
“This—” he said, voice hoarse, “—this thing between us? It’s not fucking happening, not in the back of my car.”
Silence.
Then, “Julian…”
He kissed her again, gentler, like he couldn’t help himself, but then pushed her carefully back into her seat. He grabbed his drink, took a long pull like it could cool him down.
Eat your fries,” he said, voice flat. “Before they go cold.” Y/N sat there, flushed, lips kissed pink, heart jackhammering in her chest.
“…You’re such a bullshitter, you know that?” she said after a beat.
Julian didn’t look at her. She rolled her eyes and reached to take his drink from the cupholder, only for his hand to stop her, firm over her wrist. “You’re the one full of shit, with your whole innocent act.”
“What do you mean ‘act’?” she demanded. “You think I’m just some little girl? Like I don’t know what I want?” He didn’t respond fast enough. “What do you mean ‘act’? It’s like you think I’m some little girl and not a woman with actual feelings.” He pushed her wrist back towards her. She leaned back in, closer, stubborn.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into with me.”
“Well, I know I’m getting sexually frustrated here.” She snapped
That got him. Julian choked on air, coughing once, hard. The bluntness of her confession had his blood pressure up. Then he slammed the car into drive and peeled off down the road, gravel kicking behind the tires. “Maybe stop beating ‘round the bush and just tell me why this can’t happen? You come over to my place, unannounced, to fix my stuff. You get all controlling on me at Lucy and Sarah’s last week, now you kiss me. And now I’m the one who doesn’t know what I’m doing?” Julian just pressed down on the gas, white knuckling the steering wheel.
“You gonna keep dodging me forever?” she challenged, arms crossed tight. “Or maybe grow a pair and admit you feel something?”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.
“Seriously, Julian. You act like you don’t want me and then nearly rip my clothes off every time I smile at you.”
“That’s not—” he cut himself off, trying to keep the steering wheel straight.
Y/N turned toward the window, lips tight, trying not to say something she couldn’t take back.
But in the silence that followed, Julian's voice came low, rough.
“…It’s not that I don’t want you,” he said finally, his voice low and sharp like gravel underfoot. “It’s that I don’t trust myself not to wreck your life.” Y/N froze. The weight of his words hit harder than she expected. Not just “wreck you.” He hadn’t said hurt, or mess up, or complicate. He’d said wreck your life. Like she was something fragile. Like he was something toxic. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Julian didn’t look at her. Didn’t soften. He stared straight ahead, hands clenched on the wheel, jaw locked.
“You think you want me now, but you don’t know what that actually means,” he added, bitter now. “I’m not the kind of man who makes your life better, Y/N. I’m the guy people barely survive knowing.”
She didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
Because whatever he was trying to do, to protect her, to push her away, to pretend he wasn’t already in too deep, it landed like a slap. And the way her chest ached told her: maybe he hadn’t just hurt her. Maybe he’d already started proving himself right.