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tropes-and-tales · 2 years

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Team Prime, Part Four

CW: Two idiots in love; mutual pining; Bob is a unicorn of a man. Slight angst, but far less than earlier installments.

Word Count: 5227

Other pieces: This is part of a mini-series.

When the wedding weekend arrives, Bob finds himself so excited he can barely keep himself from acting like a fool. He’s a grown man, a lieutenant in the Navy. It wouldn’t behoove him for someone to catch him grinning like a fool or kicking his feet like an excitable child.

An entire long weekend with you, though. Of course he’s happy. Of course a hundred different scenarios are bouncing around his head, since weddings are so romantic by default. He gets to spend time with you, walk into the reception with you on his arm, dance with you—

You fly in with Hannah and Eric, and Bob is the one who picks you up and drives you to the rental near the venue. When he sees you in baggage claim, you seem unexpectedly collected.

“How were the flying jitters?” he asks you in the car, and he’s surprised by your laughter.

“Gone!” you exclaim, and you throw up your hands, make a “poof!” gesture as if you’re a magician making something disappear. “I haven’t been afraid to fly since…well, since we flew to Vegas, I guess.”

Bob arches a brow at you, smiles at your glee. “Side effect of the accident?”

He hears Hannah inhale sharply from the backseat, but you ignore her. You laugh again.

“Maybe. Maybe getting life-flighted cured me.” You pause, glance over and make eye contact with him. “Or maybe I understand flight now. You know…lift and thrust, yaw and roll…”

“You remember!”

Another laugh, and it makes his chest feel like it’s full of light to hear you so happy. “I kinda remembered the flight to Vegas, but when I got on the plane this morning, I remembered some of the stuff you told me after all.”

“You’d told me that flight was illogical. That humans weren’t meant to fly.”

“The wrong thing to tell a fighter pilot,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Oh, I’m just a back-seater,” he clarifies as he navigates onto the freeway. “I don’t even have a cool call sign.”

“What is it?”

“It’s, uh, Bob.”

“No, I mean, what’s your call sign?”

He winces. He’s never wanted a cool call sign so badly in his life. “My call sign is…Bob.”

His admission makes you erupt into fresh gales of laughter, and even if he’s the butt of the joke, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited, so he laughs too. It is ridiculous.

“Oh, it’s too good. Bob Floyd, also known as Bob.” Your laughter dies off, but then you reach out and poke him gently in his flushed cheek, and it’s so much like that day a year ago that he suddenly can’t speak for the tightness in his throat.

-----

The first evening, Thursday, everything goes perfectly. People are trickling in from all corners of the earth, so you and Bob have a long stretch of just the two of you. You’re in the AirBnB and he’s in a nearby hotel, but he comes over to your rental to help you fold programs over take-out.

“Team Prime, reunited,” he says, and you hold out your hand for a high-five.

Over Pad Thai and drunken noodles, the two of you catch up, though you text and talk on the phone so much, there isn’t much untrod ground. You hesitate, then ask him how he’s feeling.

“I’m great,” he replies, a little confused at your somber tone. “Why?”

“Well, you were engaged too. And now you’re…not.”

He smiles down at his noodles. “You think this wedding is going to stir up sad thoughts?”

“How could it not?”

He’s touched, as he always is, that you remember to be concerned for him. To check in with him. As the two of you eat, he tells you that he plans to only marry once, that marriage is for keeps with him. That if he had married Jessica, he’d probably be miserable already.

“And she probably would be miserable with me too,” he points out.

“Oh, who could be miserable with you? You’re the best,” you say, and your head is bent over your food so he can’t see your expression—and you can’t see his own expression of pleased surprise.

He thinks this might be a side effect of your injuries. You seem to have less guile now, less benign cunning to flirt or hide your feelings or hedge what you’re saying. You often blurt out the truth with him, he finds.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” he tells you. “I’m good.”

-----

The next day is the rehearsal, and Bob is given a glimpse of your newfound anxiety.

He helps Eric run errands all day. He presses the wrinkles out of his dress uniform, gets a haircut, helps ferry guests to and from the hotel. He doesn’t get to see you until the rehearsal, and he can tell from your expression—the tight quality of your face, like you’re clenching your jaw—that you’ve had a rough day already.

He can guess that some of it is stress from the wedding, but the rest could be family related. As he stands with Eric for the ceremony run-through, he can see how your mother fusses with you. She keeps brushing your hair away from your face, keeps leaving her seat to whisper in your ear. You’ve alluded to the issues with her in your endless phone chats with Bob: how your parents have infantilized you since your accident. How Hannah stepped in and whisked you away to southern California so that you’d have a shot of independence.

The rehearsal reaches its end, and the bridal party practices its walk back down the aisle. Bob gets to link arms with you, and he reaches with his free hand to grasp your hand that’s lightly gripping his arm.

“How are you holding up?” he asks low near your ear. He can feel how you’re dragging your feet a bit, slightly unsteady even in your white sneakers.

“Tired,” is all you can manage at that moment.

“Want to skip the rehearsal dinner? Or we could get our meals to go. I could take you back to the rental and we could eat there…”

You glance at up at him. Your smile is lop-sided. “I think that’d create a minor scandal, the maid-of-honor and best man disappearing.”

“Not disappearing. Our whereabouts would be known.”

You hesitate to answer, and Bob can see that you want an out. You’re tempted to take him up on his offer, but you want to be a good sister too…

“I think I should probably stay. But thank you for looking out.”

Bob squeezes you hand. “Always.”

-----

The dinner goes well. Bob and Eric catch up, chat about Navy gossip, about deployments of mutual friends. Through it all, Bob smiles inwardly to see his friend so obviously happy. Eric and Hannah have been together for a long while, but the love has only grown deeper through the years.

Halfway through the meal, after Bob catches another indecipherable look from Hannah, he asks his friend what the deal is.

“She’s just protective of her sister,” Eric says.

“Protective of me?” He’s mildly offended; he’d never knowingly hurt anyone, and he’d certainly never hurt you of all people.

Eric looks at him askance. “No, dude. Protective of situations that could hurt her.” At Bob’s baffled expression, he adds, “she likes you a lot, but she thinks no one will want to date her now.”

“She likes me?”

His friend snorts. “Yeah, she liked you before too. She had it bad for you. It kinda crushed her when she found out you were engaged.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, yeah. You turned on that whole Bobby Floyd charm too much and she fell for you. I guess you being engaged didn’t come up until that weekend in Vegas.”

There’s a hundred other questions Bob could ask, but all of the missing puzzle pieces fall into place in sudden, startling clarity. Your sudden shift in mood in Vegas—after that night at the club when he told you about his engagement. When he went on and on about Jessica…

Your decision to skip the flight back to California with him. Your decision to rent that car and drive back. Your decision that put you on a literal collision course that nearly killed you.

What happened to you—it is his fault.

“Excuse me,” Bob manages to choke out, and he rushes out of the restaurant, makes it as far as the edge of the parking lot, then throws up from the sudden, awful realization.

-----

Hannah is the one who finds him.

He’s outside in the parking lot, sitting on a concrete curb. His elbows are on his knees, and his head is in his hands. The guilt is so sharp that it feels like he’s been flayed alive, and he almost misses the sound of heels clicking on the asphalt. He looks up in time to see your sister making her way to him, and she plops down beside him.

“You blaming yourself?” she asks without preamble. Bob nods miserably, feels another acid burp creeping up his throat.

“I blamed you too for a while,” she continues. She hooks her hands around her knees, draws them up to her chest. “When she was out of the coma but non-verbal, I just kept thinking, ‘why did she have to fall for you?’ Of all the people in the world, the two of you just clicked. Why not some other guy? Some guy that was available?”

“She skipped that flight to avoid me, didn’t she?”

Hannah nods. “Mostly. She thought driving back might clear her head.”

“If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t. And you were engaged, so it wasn’t on you. I stopped blaming you because of course it’s not really your fault.”

“Does she…” He trails off, struggles to get the words out. “Does she remember?”

“No, but we talked about it.”

“And she’s not mad?”

“At you?” Hannah barks out a peal of laughter, then elbows him sharply in his side. “Fuck, Bob, she could never be mad at you.”

“She should be.”

Her laughter dies off, and she sighs. They sit in silence for a long moment, and Bob sits with his guilt. You’re not mad at him, but you’ve always been kind. Gracious. You should blame him. You should be so angry that you write him off forever—

“I went to therapy, you know. When she was in the hospital and rehab. It helped a lot.” Hannah offers him a rare glimpse into her usually-staunch persona. She glances at him and shrugs. “It’s a cliché, but dwelling in the past does no one any good, but especially not her. She gets depressed that she has no future.”

“She’s doing so well, though.”

“Yeah, she is. But she focuses on where she struggles and ignores how far she’s come.”

Bob nods, and Hannah gazes at him for a long beat. She has that same inscrutable expression, but Bob understands it now.

“She doesn’t think she has a future,” she repeats. “So I guess I’m saying, if you care for her too, she’s not going to make it easy for you. If you’re not willing to fight for it, then you need to cut her loose gently before she gets too deep in it again. I will not see her hurt. Understand?”

He nods again, swallows despite his dry mouth. “Yes, ma’am,” he manages to croak out.

*****

The dinner is a disaster insofar as your mother will not stop babying you. You want to remind her that you graduated from college, that you have a master’s degree, that you held a good-paying job in Silicon Valley for years. That a single bad day in the desert surely didn’t erase all of that.

She tries to cut up your chicken piccata for you. She presses you to drink more water. She asks if you’ve taken your medicine for the day, if you’re getting a headache, if you need to go back to the rental to sleep.

She asks if you’re ready for the bridal party dance, if you’re ready to give your speech. She frets at the possibility of you embarrassing yourself, asks if maybe you should pass off the speech to someone else—

You stand up, sudden, and announce that you need some air.

Outside, you see a pair of people sitting together, and once you’re closer, you see that it’s Bob and your sister. They look deadly serious, and Bob looks pale and sweaty. You wonder if he is upset about his failed engagement, and though your instinct tells you to turn around and go inside, to leave them to their private moment, you find yourself walking over to them.

Hannah sees you first. “There she is,” she calls out in a sing-song, and Bob looks up too—though he can’t quite seem to meet your eyes.

“Everything alright?” you ask.

“Of course.” Hannah stands up, brushes off the seat of her skirt. “Escaping from mom?”

“Of course.”

“You wanna head back to the rental?” She turns and glances down at Bob. “I think Lieutenant Floyd could probably handle that.”

He finally looks at you, and his eyes are glassy. You swear he’s about to cry. Though he doesn’t, not right now. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he says that yes, he can drive you home if you’re ready to leave.

-----

The ride is silent. Bob is silent, which normally isn’t an issue, but there’s tension in the car. The companionable silences the two of you typically have seems to be gone. His pallor hasn’t improved, and he has such a death grip on the steering wheel that his knuckles are white and shiny.

At the rental, he puts the car in park, then pauses before he kills the ignition. He climbs out of the car, and when he comes around to your side to open your door and help you out, you put a hand on his arm, tentative. To still him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He shakes his head, and he pulls his arm from your gentle grip, but then he turns to face you. In the fading light, you can see how distraught he looks—his mouth a frown, his blue eyes swimming behind his thick lenses.

“How are you feeling?” he counters, ignoring your question and asking his own.

“Tired. Nervous.” You worry at your lower lip as you think about your mother’s fussing. “What if I mess up the speech? And hell, what if I mess up during the bridal party dance?”

He chuckles, and it makes his grim expression soften. “Do you remember in Vegas, we had a dance lesson? Trust me, we were the best dancers then, and I bet we’ll still be the best tomorrow.”

“Team Prime, huh?”

He holds out a hand for a high-five, but when you go to slap him, he captures your hand instead. Shifts his hold like he’s about to lead you out onto a dance floor, his warm palm gently gripping yours.

“We can practice the dance, if you want.”

“There’s no music.”

“Sure there is. Here.” He releases you, then pulls his phone out. He fiddles with it, and you hear the opening strains of the song Hannah and Eric picked for the bridal party’s dance. He turns the volume up, then sets the phone on the hood of his car.

“C’mere.” He holds a hand out, and you can’t resist skipping over to him, taking his hand. You settle your other hand on his shoulder, and your stomach does its usual fluttery flip-flop when he puts his free hand on your waist and draws you closer.

“See? You’re already doing better than before.” His soft voice is low, right by your ear. “You kept trying to lead. The instructor had to set you straight. You told me it was an affront to feminism that you had to follow me.”

You laugh. “I don’t remember that.”

“Hmm. Convenient.”

He leads you in an easy circle, slow and steady. More swaying than actual waltzing, but you think it probably looks okay. You stumble once or twice, you step on his foot…but being in his arms calms your anxiety, and you feel some of your angst about tomorrow melt away.

The song ends but then repeats, and Bob doesn’t release you. He keeps leading you in that easy circle in the driveway, and halfway through the second attempt, he clears his throat and glances down at you.

“I’m sorry about Vegas,” he says.

“It happened.” You shrug in his arms. “The more time passes, the less angry I am.”

“I’d probably be angry forever.”

“You? No, I don’t think so. You’re too good to wallow in bad feelings for long.”

He sighs, and that close, you can feel it fanning over you. “You give me more credit then I deserve, honey.”

Honey. Sometimes when the two of you talk on the phone, when he seems comfortable or tired enough for his faint midwestern drawl to surface, he calls you different pet names. Sweetheart. Honey. Every time, it makes you feel all light and airy, like you could float away.

“I give you exactly as much credit as you deserve,” you reply.

He grumbles good-naturedly but doesn’t respond. The song repeats a third time, then a fourth, and he doesn’t let you go once—he only turns you in lazy circles, keeps you tucked close to him.

*****

In the course of planning for his own wedding that never happened, Bob was told time and again by vendors, by friends and family—hired a good photographer, because the day flies by so fast, there’s no way to remember everything.

He finds that even when it isn’t his own wedding, the same applies.

The morning is a blur that he won’t remember in the days and weeks to follow. He runs last-minute errands for Eric. He showers, shaves. He dresses in his carefully-pressed dress uniform, and he wonders idly if you’re the type of woman who likes a man in uniform. Jessica told him once that the white Navy uniforms made him look like an ice cream truck driver.

His first real, tangible memory that he’ll revisit over and over? When he finally gets to see you again.

You don’t see him just yet. You walk in with your sisters, a bustle of female activity and chattering, but he zeros in on you: in your navy blue dress, your matching canvas sneakers. The single white flower pinned in your hair.

You’ve always been beautiful to him, before and after. You’re beautiful now, but there’s something insecure in your bearing—the way you walk so carefully, the way your shoulders are drawn up by your ears—that makes him want to run over to you, wrap his arm around you. He wants to protect you from world, keep anyone who might gawk at your scars or your unsteady gait far away from you.

He knows he loves you. He knows it to the marrow of his bones. He’s laid awake many nights, turning it over and over in his head. With Jessica, it hadn’t been certainty as much as habit: his girlfriend from middle school, they just fell into the habit of being together. He considers it a blessing that they realized their growing detachment when they did.

You, though? He knows it’s love. He’s certain. He knows that there’s challenges. You get headaches easily. You can’t drive yet. You have an overbearing mother who wants to protect you too. You have various therapies to help you regain what you’ve lost.

But the real challenge is what both Hannah and Eric said: you think your romantic life is over. You only see yourself as a broken thing, not someone worth loving.

If you’re not willing to fight, Hannah had warned him. People may look at him and see an unassuming man. With his thick-lensed glasses and baby-face, Bob Floyd puts no one in mind of a fighter…and yet, he’s exactly that.

He’s ready to fight you, for the sake of being with you.

-----

The ceremony flies by. Bob finds that he can’t quite tear his eyes from you. You make it down the aisle without tripping (he catches your visible sigh of relief once you’re by your sister’s side), and you manage your duties—taking your sister’s bouquet, straightening out her veil—with aplomb. It’s Bob who messes up, fumbles the rings, drops them with a clatter onto the small dais.

But then…then, after the couple are married and share their first kiss as husband and wife, Bob gets to offer you his arm and walk down the aisle with you. He gets an entire hour with you and the wedding party for all the photographs.

Hannah and Eric, subtle as bombs, make sure the photographer gets one of just you and Bob, and your sister drops him that cool gaze of hers that he now understands.

“You okay?” you ask as the two of you are posed by the photographer. Your voice has a teasing lilt to it. “I think the videographer caught the ring drop on camera.”

“Oh, that was intentional,” he jokes. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t want you to be the only one worrying today. I also plan on tripping into the cake at the reception.”

You laugh, and you do your signature move—you poke him gently in the cheek. That’s the shot the photographer gets, the moment right after: neither of you looking at the camera, each of you looking at each other with obvious affection. It’s the photo that Bob will eventually save as his phone’s lock screen, once Eric sends it to him with the winking emoji.

It’s the photo he’ll look at when he’s on an aircraft carrier, months from now, about to carry out an extremely dangerous mission with an uncertain outcome. It will be a tangible reminder that he needs to survive, he needs to get home to you.

-----

At the reception, your speech goes better than you probably thought it would. You do stutter, a bit, but Bob doubts anyone really notices. He knows you do, though. When you finish and sit back down, he sees how you drop your head, how you bite your lip.

So he’s does what he planned to do. He starts his speech, then drops his small stack of index cards. He spends a long beat putting them back in order. He makes a joke, asks the assembled guests if they feel safe knowing his steady hands are on the weapons systems of billion dollar fighter jets, and it earns him a good laugh.

It also earns him grateful smile from you.

Then comes the dance. It feels so natural after last night. He took you through it five times, ostensibly to make you comfortable but as much for how it felt to hold you and dance with you without everyone watching.

“I know you dropped your index cards on purpose,” you murmur as he leads you across the dance floor. A beat, and you add, “thank you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, honey.”

You snort. “Oh, so Bob Floyd is a shameless liar now. You’re not the man I remember from before.”

“I thought you didn’t remember me from before. Sounds like you’re the shameless liar.”

You cluck your tongue in mock disappointment. “It’s such a happy day. Why are we fighting about who’s the bigger liar?”

“Is that what this is? Fighting?”

“Yup.”

He pulls you closer. “I think I like fighting with you.”

You don’t reply, but you tilt your head up to look at him, and your expression is so much like your sister’s—slightly narrowed eyes, studious, cool.

-----

He decided last night to talk to you at the reception. After dinner, after the speeches and first dances. After the cake-cutting when Hannah and Eric cut into it with his ceremonial saber (“Overkill,” you whisper to Bob, making him chuckle).

Once the lights dim and the dance floor fills, Bob finds you. He takes your hand and leads you outside, and it’s almost as if the universe is conspiring with him because the night is perfect. Balmy with a cool breeze, a perfect crescent moon hanging low in the sky. A million stars.

“Take a little walk with me?” he asks, and you nod.

He scouted the place out earlier. He leads you now to a small arbor with a bench under it, and the two of you sit. He turns to face you, and he takes your hand in his own.

“I had a whole speech in my head,” he starts, “but I’m drawing a blank now.”

“A speech about what?”

“I l-like you,” he stammers. “I liked you before. I shouldn’t have because I was unavailable, but I did. And then…well, you had your accident, and in the meanwhile, my engagement fell apart. And when you came back in my life and I was free to have feelings for you, I…I fell for you.”

“Oh. Oh, Bob, I don’t—”

“Let me finish. Please.” He squeezes you hand. You look stunned, but you finally nod for him to continue.

“Maybe you don’t believe me, and that’s okay. I just want a chance to prove it to you. How I feel. I’m not…I’m not great at this stuff, but I know how I feel about you. I fell for you. I’m in l-love with you, honey. And I just want a chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

She’s not going to make it easy for you, Hannah told him, and she was half-right. You do fight him here—you shake your head, you start to list out reasons why you can’t be with him—but Bob finds that it’s an easy victory in the end. You don’t put up that much of a fight.

“Make a list,” he cuts in gently. “Make a list of all the reasons why we can’t be together, and we’ll work through them together.”

That earns him a smile. “A list?”

“I’m a WSO in the Navy,” he points out reasonably. “I’m used to tackling problems logically.”

“So I’m a problem?”

He moves closer to you and loops an arm around your shoulders. He pulls you against him, and he chances a near-kiss, his cheek pressed against your hair.

“No, you’re a menace, but I love you all the same.”

The words just slip out, unintentional. His heart is thudding so loud in his chest that he almost misses it entirely—your shaky exhale, and your own mournfully whispered “I love you too.”

*****

With Hannah and Eric on their way to their honeymoon, the brunch the next morning is a sedate affair. Most of the bridal party is hungover and half skip it altogether. Your parents, blessedly, left early to beat the traffic. You’d hate for your mom to be hovering as you present your list to Bob.

The man himself settles right beside you at brunch, and you get the same butterflies you always do. He hardly seems real. He’s too kind, too perfect. You know he’s not naturally extroverted, yet he made himself the butt of the joke at the reception to take the attention off of you. Before that, practicing the dance the night before. And before that, just him, being perfectly, wonderfully Bob.

You want nothing more than to say yes. To be with him. To even try. You love him too, yet isn’t it the truest sort of love to set someone free?

“You have your list?” he asks once the waitress brings your drinks. “Let me see it.”

You stayed up most of the night to list out every conceivable reason why you can’t be with him, yet when you hand over the piece of paper, Bob only nods and reads it over as he sips at his coffee.

He doesn’t call you ridiculous. He only addresses it point by point.

“Number one. Therapy.” He glances at you. “That’s vague.”

“I have multiple therapists. A lot of appointments.”

“So?”

“So…people feel a certain way about therapy sometimes. They judge.”

“I don’t.” He reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a pen, strikes a line through number one. “Okay, number two…”

Back and forth. He reads through your list and shoots down every reason as you eat your eggs and he eats his waffles. He teases you gently, but he never makes you feel bad about it.

“Okay, so number twelve. Children.” That earns you an arched brow, and his cheeks tinge with pink. “Eager to get me into bed?”

You own face burns in embarrassment. Of course you’ve entertained the idle (and not so idle) thought of what it’d be like to sleep with Bob, but you can’t admit that over brunch.

“We should follow out the natural progression of relationships. Marriage, kids. There’s a very real chance I can’t have kids. Any pregnancy would be high-risk, and I—”

“So follow out the progression. We get married, we don’t have kids. Or we adopt or foster. Or we become that couple in the neighbor who adopts old dogs to give them a good life in their elderly years.”

Your hands tremble at how easy he makes it sound. How easy it could be. Thing is, you can picture it: you and Bob married, childless, but happy. Maybe with a house of old dogs as he said, the house full of dog beds and old shelter dogs with white faces lazing in the sun, the two of you taking slow walks with them, enjoying the evenings together…

You set your fork down and fold your hands in your lap. “You’re being glib.”

“I promise I’m not.” He looks at you in earnest, his blue eyes wide. “There’s nothing on this list that’s scaring me away. Like…” He glances down, revisits number four. “Unsteady hands. You really think your struggles with threading a zipper is that big of a deal-breaker?”

You sigh and turn to face him more directly. “Bob, you’re career military. I know what that means, okay? Follow the progression. Military wives…there’s a lot of pressure there. I wouldn’t be able to support you the way you’d need.”

He chuckles, shakes his head. “What do you think you’ve been doing for the past few months? When you talk to me on the phone every night and cheer me up after a rough day? That’s support, honey. That’s all I need.”

You stare back at him, half-mesmerized by his gaze. His eyes are so wide behind his thick lenses, he looks comically bug-eyed. It’s hard enough to not smile, but then he starts nodding at you encouragingly, obviously trying to sway you.

“Say yes,” he pleads quietly. “Say yes. We can take is as slow as you want. But just say yes.”

How can you resist him? You can’t, so you decide not to even try. You fell for him before, and you lost your memories but fell for him again. You’ve never believed in fate or destiny or soulmates, but that has to mean something—falling for the same man twice, in two separate, very different epochs of your life.

“Okay.” You nod back, mimicking him. “Okay. Yes.”

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #top gun maverick #tropes and tales

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 2 years

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Can't Keep My Eyes Off You

Jade x FtM!Reader

For @zoomdeathknight

You were sitting at the Asphalt Cafe, waiting for your sisters to arrive to get their food. Trina messaged you while you were working out, practically demanding Thai food. While you weren't one to give into Trina easily, you still loved her and would try to do nice things for both her and Tori. So you agreed, getting Tori's order as well. At least you had time to shower beforehand this time.

Students began to file out to the courtyard around you. You take a quick glance around to try and find Trina but then figure that you would hear her before you saw her. As you glance down at your phone, you miss the amount of eyes starting to stare at you. The whispers, however, reached your ears.

"Who is that?"

"I dunno, but daaaamnnmn...."

"Who's the lucky bitch he's waiting for?"

"His hair looks so soft..."

"Look at his muscles..."

The mutterings made you a little self conscious about being here. Your hand runs through your split blonde/black hair, unintentionally flexing and causing several girls to swoon.

"C'mon, Trina," you mumble. "Get out here already..."

As if on cue, Trina's booming voice echoes around the outdoor cafe.

"Finally! My love has arrived!"

People are absolutely baffled as the older Vega sister runs towards you, only to slap their foreheads when she goes straight for the take-out bags.

"Pad Thai, you never disappoint." She says as she essentially cradles the box of noodles. You just deadpan at her with a wave.

"Hi. Brother here. You know, the one who brought your food?"

Trina ignores you and walks away.

"... You're welcome!?"

A pat on your shoulder draws your incredulous glare away from Trina to the sympathetic smile of Tori.

"I, for one, appreciate you going outta your way. Thanks, Y/N." She gives you a hug before reaching for her own food. "Oooh! Rangoons!"

"At least my good deed is appreciated." You share a laugh with Tori as her friends begin to join you at the table.

"Whoa, you got Thai food and you're not sharing?" Andre asked as soon as he sat down.

"Blame Trina. I just took advantage."

"And I had the free time."

"Oh, hey dude. I'm Andre." He stuck his hand out, allowing you to take and shake it.

"Yo. I'm Y/N, The Vega adopted child."

Robbie pops up then, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Wait, since when?"

"Yeah, why would you subject yourself to living with Trina?" Said Rex.

You take a moment to register that a PUPPET just spoke. Before you could answer, the rest of your sister's friends arrive.

"Who's the beefcake?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to look at the person who, in tone, sounded like they insulted you. However, as soon as your eyes meet ocean ones, all of your annoyance melts away. While the rest of the group chatters away, you and the infamous Jade begin a staring contest.

She sits down, eyes never leaving yours. In your peripheral, you can see a small smirk forming on her lips. It causes one to spring from your own. Eventually, her eyes move, analyzing and appraising your whole form. Your body burns from the focus, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. At least until another person literally pulls you away.

"Ohmigod, you're so hot. What's your name? Can I touch your hair? Flex for me pleaseeeee"

The barrage of questions from the random girl caught you extremely off guard. You weren't even allowed to answer as more and more girls begin to surround you.

"How are you so real?"

"Is everything about you this buff?"

"God, you're even hotter than Beck."

You barely register the incredulous sputtering from somewhere behind you. Tori's voice is getting lost in the girlish chatter as she tries to get to you. Your anxiety was going through the roof. It wasn't until a booming voice pierced through the rumpus.

"ALRIGHT BACK IT UP, YA VULTURES!"

Jade almost literally cuts through the group of girls surrounding you, brandishing her signature scissors. She maneuvers the gaggle until they are in front of her, keeping you behind her with Tori comforting you.

"While we can all agree that Y/N is hot, that doesn't mean you can bombard him with stupid questions and be all..." She waves her hand. "Handsy with him."

Rooted in your spot, you stare at the goth defending you. What little femininity you retained after taking hormones start to bubble with the girlish whimsy of being the damsel in distress, now saved. Jade was holding her own against the pack, but it seemed like you would need to step in to get rid of them for good. You snap out of your stupor and wait for an opportunity.

"Why do you even care, Jade? You don't have a claim on him like you did with Beck."

Bingo.

You take a step forward, being cautious to be close to Jade, but not touching her. You've heard the stories Tori told you. Putting on your best smirk, you address the mob.

"Who says she doesn't have a claim on me?"

Everyone gawked at you. It unnerved you a bit, but you held strong, refusing to crack. You shrug, sitting back down on the bench behind you, bracing your elbows in the table against your back.

"I mean, the hottest guy needs to have the hottest girl, right?" You inwardly cringe at the words, but you'll beat yourself for it up later. Jade, being the smart actress she was, caught on and sheathed her scissors to perch herself into your lap, crossing her legs as she gently plays with the hairs at the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine at the touch.

"You heard him. He's been claimed. Go be ganks somewhere else."

The bravest of the girl stepped forward with a stomp of her foot.

"No way! I don't believe it. There's no possible way he's with a creep like you!"

"No? Well then."

The next sequence of actions played in your mind like a slideshow. Hands on either side of your face. Said hands turning your face towards a beautiful girl. Lips of said girl suddenly on yours.

While the entire situation was a surprise, you reacted on instinct. You tilt your head slightly to deepen the kiss as your hands pull at Jade's waist. It lasts even after the gaggle of girls walk away dejectedly. It wasn't until an awkward cough did you and Jade part ways.

"So... That worked to get them away..." Andre awkwardly said. He was actively not looking towards you and Jade. She was still on your lap, now with her arms around your neck.

"Great. Now I don't have to watch my brother make out with Jade." Tori mentions with a shudder.

"I dunno, Vega," Jade pipes up with a smirk. "You may end up seeing it more often."

Tori just groans and flops on the table, causing you to laugh at her antics. Before you could apologize to your sister, your attention is forced to the goth on your lap.

"How about we get to know each other a little better? Maybe somewhere more private."

With a grin, you just pick up the girl on your lap and start making your way to your car.

"See you later, Tori. Love you!"

You and Jade let out a cackle as you leave the group behind. Tori just hopes that they won't be insufferable. She knows that there's already going to be chaos when Trina finds out.

#a dragon tries to write #victorious imagines #jade west x reader #i hope this turned out ok #i was sick while writing a chunk of it lol

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fruityuncleskeletor · 2 years

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On the topic of Pete and food, I imagine one of the reasons he wasn't too fazed or broken by Vegas feeding him slop on the floor in a dog bowl is because this is his life in the mafia anyway. He comes from a very poor background, with no opportunities and no ways out. Then he gets picked to work for a super powerful family that has more money than God but still has their employees on a daily calorie budget. Pete eats his kid-appropriate meals and then serves Kinn his luxurious breakfasts. He can't go to the kitchen and say "mhm, today I feel like binging on sticky doughnuts and drinking bubble tea until I pop". The HUMILIATION is repeated daily and normalised, but I think Pete feels it more acutely than his co-workers from less bleak backgrounds. And sure it could be argued that Thai culture and customs revolve around respect and hierarchy and people who know their place don't feel vexed by witnessing their betters thrive. But the heart sees. Pete was a child who learned early on to not ask for anything, not wanting to make his parents have to say "no, we can't". He is not a pet. A pet is someone who looks at you with big eyes and suddenly you're on your knees spoonfeeding them pheasant confit. Pete is a bodyguard, a working dog. The kind you keep in a kennel and feed no more and no less than its prescribed diet. So when Vegas calls him a pet and feeds him from a dog bowl, Pete must be thinking "well at least this one has the grace to tell it how it is." And Vegas, unlike the main family, has the decency not to eat whole feasts in front of Pete and then ask Pete to clean after him.

#pete saenghtam #vegas #vegaspete #bodyguard life #kpts #kinnporsche the series #pete and food

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recentadultburnout · 2 years

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KinnPorsche's character's name's meaning

พอร์ช - พชร กิตติสวัสดิ์ Porsche - Phachara Kittisawat

Phachara - diamond

Kitti - rumour, fame, renown, report, praise, laudation, exaltation

Sawat - happiness, goodness, prosperity

คินน์ - อนาคินน์ ธีรปัญญากูร Kinn - Anakin Teerapanyakun

Anakin - I can't find any meaning. Perhaps the author is a Star Wars fan? But nakin's homophone (นาคินทร์) meaning is king of serpents. "A" in front of words is usually equivalent to English's not/non, but I don't think that is the case here.

Teera - sage, witty, intelligent, prosperous, stable, strong.

panya - intellect, wisdom, culture, wit

kun - It might be offspring, lineage, but I'm not sure.

คิม - คิมหันต์ ธีรปัญญากูร Kim - Kimhan Teerapanyakun

Kimhan - summer

ปอเช่ - พิชญะ กิตติสวัสดิ์ Porche - Pitchaya Kittisawat

Pitchaya - sage

เวกัส - กรวิศว์ ธีรปัญญากูร Vegas - Kornwit Teerapanyakun

Kornwit - Bible says it means beloved, dear, endearing. But Korn means hand, arm, maker, the creator, the initiator, the cause. and Witsawa (วิศว), which I assume is what Wit came from, means all, entire, whole, all around. So Kornwit might mean something along the lines of the creator of everything.

พีท - พงศกร แสงธรรม Pete - Pongsakorn Saengtham

Pongsakorn - Founder of the family, ancestors.

Saeng - light, shine

Tham - doctrine, teaching of Buddha, dharma, good, righteousness, virtue, morality, truth, right principles , scruples

คุณ - แทนคุณ ธีรปัญญากูร Khun - Tan Khun Teerapanyakun

Tan Khun - show gratitude to

อาร์ม - อาชวิน Arm - Ashwin

Ashwin - honest person

พล Pol

Pol - force, general

น้ำผึ้ง กิตติสวัสดิ์ Nampeung Kittisawat

Nampeung - honey

Tawan

Sun

Other things

What is that thing Pete wai in Vegas's house?

I'm not sure either, but Build said he wai The Sanxing. That scene is an improv on his part.

Merit and the next life.

In Thai belief, sometimes we have a chance to meet loved ones because we have accumulated merits together with them since the life before this one. It is known as tam bun rûuam châat dtàk bàat rûuam kăn (ทำบุญร่วมชาติ ตักบาตรร่วมขัน). tam bun rûuam châat means make merit together in this life and dtàk bàat rûuam kăn means put food offerings into a Buddhist monk's bowl together, referring to how you make merit together in the past life. Now that both KinnPorsche and VegasPete got a chance to make merit together, they will have a chance to meet again in the next life. Well, it's a sweet concept, but when Vegas says it, it sounds so threatening lol

Their names origin

Disclaimer: I have read novels but that was years ago. I don't remember much. This is secondary data. So about Porsche and Porchay, their parents named him Porsche because they do business importing cars, namely Porsche cars. And when they have a second child, they want to tell their children that they love both of them equally and will give everything to them equally, including their names. It's quite common for Thai parents to name their children in a set anyway. Next, Khun, Kinn, and Kim. Nampeung is the one who get to name Khun, and she names him that in the hope that he will grow up and be a grateful son who will return the favour to his parents in the future. She may be sarcastic if she actually despises Khun Korn. Kinn and Kim got their nicknames based on Thankhun's nickname being Khun, and then got their first names from that, plus Kim was born in summer.

Pete's habit

You may have noticed Pete's habit of running his hands over his head and hair after wai something. It means he hopes to receive blessings from things he wai. Many people do things like that after listening to a sermon too, or even when the elder talks on a special occasion or anything that can be seen as auspicious, while others just don't. It's mostly a matter of habit.

Someone asked me in another work, so I thought I'd include it here as well.

*If you think this is similar to something you see in AO3, it's because it used to be on AO3.

Index

#kinnporsche #name'smeaning

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theperezhilton · 14 hours

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One of my favorite things about going to @lotusofsiam_redrock is not just the exceptional food, but also that I’m always surrounded by Asian diners. Love that there is such a thriving community in Las Vegas AND that they show up to @RedRockCasino for the super yummy and authentic Thai food!

#Las Vegas #Vegas

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schillersrealm · 5 months

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Chapter 4 - Wicked Game

Schiller opened the door for Frankie as they walked inside the Asian Restaurant. He stood close to her as they reached the hostess at the front of the restaurant. Nicholae gently squeezed Frankie’s right upper arm and brought her closer to him as the hostess looked on her computer for a 2 seat table. The young woman lightly moaned in pain when she felt Nicholae’s fingers tightening around her arm and looked up at him, perplexed as to why he was doing this.

“Shh! There are a lot of people I know here. If someone stops by, you keep quiet! Did I make myself clear?” He caught the frightened look in her blue baby eyes, and Nicholae knew that she was going to make an excellent little associate or as he liked to call, a sweet obedient pawn. When the hostess directed her attention back to them, Nicholae released his grip from Frankie’s arm and responded back to the hostess with a smile.

The hostess brought them to their table and Nicholae sat across Frankie. He could tell that she was extremely nervous, just by her body language, her whole body was stiff and it was obvious that Frankie wasn’t pleased at all to be with him. Was she going to be strong enough for the job he would offer her? It’s not as if she had the choice to begin with.

The waiter arrived at their table and asked them if they wanted to start with something to drink. Nicholae asked for a glass of whisky on the ice and answered as well for Frankie. “No alcohol for Missy… Perhaps she’d prefer a sparkling beverage?” Frankie quickly shifted her regard to the waiter and told him that water would be fine. Nicholae smirked at her when the waiter left them. Her eyes were already glued on the food menu, avoiding Nicholae’s dark green eyes at all cost.

Schiller was a regular client at this restaurant and it wasn't long that he noticed that Frankie had caught the attention of the people around. Either it was the waiter taking care of them , or the hostess at the entrance, everybody had noticed Frankie. She wasn’t the kind of woman Nicholae had the habits to bring for lunch or dinner time… With her short blonde hair and pale complexion, the young woman stood apart from the crowd, and she wasn’t very tall to begin with. Next to Nicholae she was all delicate and miniature…

The waiter came back a few minutes later with Nicholae’s drink and glasses of water for both of them.

“Are you ready to order?” He demanded them. Nicholae was ready, but not Frankie.

“Nope, come back in 5 minutes.” said Schiller as he saw that Frankie was hesitating for her choice of food. Frankie quickly glanced at Nicholae, growing more anxious as she didn’t know what to take. She had spotted the Pad Thai and asked Nicholae if it was good.

“It is, you can take this.” She then closed the menu and her eyes were looking everywhere, as if she didn’t want to look at him.

“Leon informed me that your brother followed you last night to my place, is that true?” As if Frankie wasn’t already on the verge to cry as she was extremely nervous around Nicholae.

“It’s true… He came to me last night before I left to meet you and I told him I was going to the gym, I didn’t think he’d follow me…”

Nicholae took a sip of his golden liquid, his eyes glued on Frankie. He could see the fear trapped on her face and a whiff of her sunscreen she had applied on her skin before leaving her house, caught Nicholae by surprise.

“Does he know why you came to see me?” A light smirk was growing on his lips as he asked Frankie about her brother. The young woman scratched the side of her neck before answering Nicholae.

“I told him that uncle owed you money and that I simply paid you back. I didn’t mention that I would work for you… My brother is really overprotective… He’s the one that raised me if we can put it that way!”

Nicholae took another sip of his drink and tilted his head to the side.

“Of course, your mother was enjoying the Vegas life a little too much, and your father was…Absent as well…” When Nicholae pointed out to Frankie that her parents had been absent in her life, the young woman gulped anxiously.

“How come you know about my parents?” Frankie couldn’t help and she had to ask Nicholae where he had gotten this information. It’s not as if Frankie had written this everywhere online that her parents sucked. The 51 year old male chuckled at the young naive woman.

“I know a lot of things about you my dear Frankie! You think I didn’t check your background? I wouldn’t hire you without making sure who I’m dealing with… As for your brother, I have a feeling that he will be a nuisance if you get my drift!”

He was right and she knew it! Ethan was indeed going to be a nuisance the day he’d learn that Frankie gave up everything to work for a crime lord.

“He won’t, I will make sure of it…” Even though she had assured Schiller, the dark-haired man knew better than believing words coming out of a 25 years old girl’s mouth.

“We shall see Miss Anderson!” He smirked at her and Nicholae shifted his eyes on the waiter who had come back to the table to take their orders. The waiter left again with their orders and Nicholae’s face changed to a more serious appearance.

“You’re going to be an associate.. The lowest rank in my organization. You’ll be doing my errands, collecting money and many other things I have in mind for you. Each week, I’ll take money from your paycheck and pay myself back” Nicholae had gotten rid of Antun, who was actually doing what Frankie would do. Frankie would cost less and he’d take a part of her salary to pay himself back.

“Ok… And what are the other things you have in mind for me?” He could tell that she was dying to know what he had in store for her. He couldn’t blame her.

“In time Miss Anderson. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to kill people…” Nicholae knew who he was dealing with and wasn’t going to make her kill people or transport drugs in her car.

“You know your way around San Francisco?” He asked her. The young woman finally leaned back in her chair, looking a bit more relaxed than when they stepped foot in the restaurant.

“Yes, I have no problem with driving around San Francisco… Am I going to use my car?” That was the question that was burning Frankie’s lips. Nicholae had indeed spotted the red sports car in her driveway when he picked her up. A well maintained Red 2006 Subaru WRX STI. Nicholae couldn’t give her one of his cars, or else he was going to make no profits from her.

“Yes, you’ll take your car!” The look on her face was obviously showing signs of disagreement, but it’s not as if she had her word to say in this.

“Ok…I see…” She wasn’t ok and Nicholae purposely made her more embarrassed than she already was.

“I can tell that you’re not pleased with this decision…” Frankie was about to say something, but the waiter interrupted them with their food.

“Enjoy your meals, is there anything else you need?” Nicholae thanked the waiter and informed him they were ok, not asking Frankie if there was something else she needed.

“No, no it’s ok…” He could tell that she was lying to him and that wasn’t a good start, thought Nicholae.

“Oh, I can tell that you’re not pleased at all with this decision of mine. You’ll have to be honest with me Miss Anderson, I won’t tolerate any lies coming from you. As I can see, you seem to be quite an expert when it comes to lying… Am I right?” He snickered at the young woman and her skin flushed red.

“I’m not lying to you! I think you're smart enough to see that my car isn’t brand new, I’m trying to keep it on the lower miles, that’s all..”Nicholae wiped his mouth with the white serviette and sighed loudly at the petite woman across from him.

“I do understand that you’re concerned about your car, but I can’t supply you with one of my vehicles…” He blurted out before bringing his fork to his mouth.

“Alright…” She wasn’t agreeing more because Nicholae had used a deeper tone of voice to make her understand that she’d take her vehicle to work for him. What could she do at this point? Not much more…

Minutes passed by as both of them finished their meals… Nicholae caught Frankie’s plate as the waiter took it. She had left half of her food on the plate, but she had indeed commented on how she was done with her plate.

“Was it good? You barely ate?” She shrugged her shoulders.

“It was ok, I’m not really hungry…” She was way too intimidated by Nicholae’s presence and she was very anxious with was coming up next for her. Eating was the last of her priorities right now. Plus, she knew that Ethan would find about her new “Job” and it was going to be another issue that Frankie would have to deal with.

“Mr. Schiller, here you are… How lovely seeing you here!” A tall woman stopped by Nicholae’s table. She had long dark brown hair and appeared to be in her late 40’s. For some reason, she reminded Frankie of the grand high witch from the 1990 movie “The Witches” and Nicholae had probably fucked this woman…

“Angelica… Nice seeing you… Radiant as always.” The way he looked at her, Frankie caught a thick sexual tension between those two and for some reason, it did annoy her… When the woman moved her blue eyes on Frankie, the young woman displayed the annoyance on her face. She didn’t like her at all, there was something off with her.

“My, my Nicholae, you’re taking them younger now. She could be your daughter!” The woman laughed at her own joke as she analyzed Frankie’s teenage-like appearance with her romper piece of clothes and her pale blonde short hair. Nicholae snorted at Angelica when she stated how Frankie appeared to be younger than all the women Nicholae had brought for lunch at this restaurant.

“Meet Miss Anderson, she’s working for me now and absolutely nothing else, like you’d love to believe!” Angelica had a hard time believing this. She snorted back in return at Nicholae when he made sure to elaborate that Frankie was just a business partner and nothing else. Angelica knew Nicholae enough to believe these lies coming from him. If he had chosen Frankie, there was a reason behind all of it. Of course she owed money because of her uncle, but Angelica was well aware that it was just a matter of time until Nicholae would try to get the young woman between his satin sheets.

“Oh, tell me about it, Nicholae. She’s way too pure for you! If I were you, love, I’d run away from him… He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing…” Angelica smirked at Nicholae, loving to tease him and especially implementing a certain terror into the young woman.

Even though Frankie could feel the urge to reply back to the Witch, she knew better as Nicholae’s stern look on his face meant everything. She knew that he’d be pissed at her if she was being impolite toward his friend. So, Frankie simply kept herself silent toward Angelica’s remarks.

Angelica Winked at Frankie before approaching Nicholae to whisper something in his ear.

“You’ll have to be gentle with her, she doesn’t look like the kind to love it rough…” Nicholae snorted in amusement at Angelica’s observation concerning Frankie.

“As usual, it was lovely speaking with you Angelica!” Added Nicholae with a sarcastic tone. Angelica finally left them and Nicholae displayed a firm smile to Frankie. Even though Angelica had whispered, Frankie was close enough and had heard everything.

“What does she know about my sexual preferences??” Nicholae leaned back in his seat, a bit surprised by Frankie’s revelation. He chuckled, amused as he caught a jealous feeling coming from Frankie. It was obvious that she didn’t like Angelica and it entertained him.

“Don’t mind her…She’s like this.” Frankie narrowed her eyes and wiped the corners of her mouth with the serviette.

“Now, let’s get back to what we were talking about. You’re going to start next week… At 8 Am, I want to see you at my place. I will give you all the addresses of the places to collect the money from.” So far, it did seem an easy job, thought Frankie. She wouldn’t mind driving around San Francisco to collect money for Schiller.

“Ok, seems fine with me.” said Frankie. The waiter was seen coming back to their table and Nicholae asked him for the bill as Frankie didn’t want anything else. The waiter came back with just a bill and Frankie watched him as Nicholae gave him his black credit card.

“I can pay for my own meal, you know…” It’s not as if Nicholae wasn’t capable of paying a mere plate of Pad Thai to a 25 years old woman. He thought that she was all cute, as she tried to show him how independent she was. He licked his upper lip and smiled in a self-satisfied way at her.

“That wouldn’t be nice of me to invite you to the restaurant and make you pay for your meal… Would it be, Miss Anderson?” She couldn’t disagree on this though. Nothing more frustrating than a man making her pay for her meal on their first date… Well, of course, Frankie knew that it wasn't a date between her and Schiller. Just a formal lunch time together… But still…

Nicholae paid for the bill and left the restaurant with Frankie by his side. He even opened her car door, so she’d step inside the Land Rover on the front passenger seat with ease. She sat down and struggled to fasten her seatbelt as the mechanism of the belt was stopping Frankie from extending the seat belt.

The occasions of having someone sitting on the passenger seat of this car were rare for Nicholae and he had completely forgotten about this seat belt. It needed to be changed as he’d need to contact the dealership for the repair as the car was still under warranty.

Nicholae gently leaned over Frankie after he had sat behind the wheel, and tried to pull on the seat belt with more strength. As Schiller got closer to her, Frankie became quite aroused. She could even smell his masculine perfume emanating from the skin of his neck and she breathed faster as her eyes caught down his other hand resting near her left thigh…

She totally froze on her seat and tried to remain calm, but it was obvious that she was stirred from Nicholae who was just trying to get her seatbelt to work…

“Hmm, I should have gotten this checked!” He mentioned while he kept trying to unlock the mechanism of the seat belt. As Nicholae kept on fidgeting with the seat belt, Frankie kept her eyes glued on his left hand resting near her thigh, picturing his hand gently sliding underneath her romper. She had to bite the inside of her bottom lip as she continued to play these little fantasies in the back of her mind.

“Alright, here we go.. I fixed it, until next time!” Nicholae fastened Frankie’s seat belt and glanced at Frankie who did seem to be a bit troubled.

“Are you ok, Miss Anderson?” He asked her with amusement filling his voice. He had noticed her chest rising rapidly as she breathed faster, and that craving look trapped in her eyes. Her complexion wasn’t pale anymore, so it was easy to see that something had indeed impacted her as the skin on her face had turned crimson red.

“I’m ok…” She gulped nervously while leaning on her seat. To say that Frankie couldn’t wait to arrive home was an understatement. She could feel the wetness and the sexual arousement increasing between her legs and that wasn’t comfortable at all… She was going through the equivalent of blue balls for men.

She hated herself so much for that. How could she? Once again, she couldn’t deny her attraction for older men. Frankie had always been attracted to older men, probably to compensate for the absence of a real father in her life. But Nicholae Schiller? He was working for the mafia, he wasn’t the kind of a man with an 8 to 5 job, coming back home every night to his wife. He probably had a girlfriend anyway, even perhaps that Angelica woman they saw at the restaurant.

“Well, looks like I’ll send you to the Land Rover Dealership on Monday for the seat belt. They will check to fix it…” Frankie had a hard time focusing on what Nicholae was saying as she only kept thinking about his fingers sliding into her… Nicholae saw that she was distracted, oblivious about her pervert thoughts running through her mind.

“You seem lost, Miss Anderson?” She finally turned around and made him repeat.

“Eh? What did you say?” Nicholae set back his eyes on the road and repeated his question.

“You seem lost, a penny for your thoughts?” He could dream on… Frankie wasn’t going to reveal to her boss how aroused she was. She felt ashamed, but she couldn’t help it, she was deeply attracted to him and knew that this would lead to nowhere.

“No it’s ok… Just thinking about something… That’s all..” When Nicholae understood that she didn’t want to share what was bothering her, he decided to let it go…

Nicholae finally arrived at Frankie’s place and parked his SUV in her driveway.

“Here you are…” He placed the shifter on the “P” position and turned around to look at Frankie.

“I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime Frankie, you’ll see working for me isn’t as scary as you might imagine.” Frankie unfastened her seatbelt and the safety device didn’t retract all the way inside since it was still broken.

“It’s not as if I have the choice Mr. Schiller. It was either this, or prostitution..” Schiller smirked at her again and chuckled at her remark. He did give her the choice, but he knew that a young woman like her would’ve never opted for prostitution.

“You think I would’ve let you choose prostitution? I wouldn’t have shared a beautiful little pearl like you, I don’t think you were born for this Miss Anderson.” Nicholae had a hard time picturing Frankie lightly dressed with a pair of intense high heels, while waiting for men to pick her up from the sidewalk. As Angelica had mentioned it, she was way too pure for this. Hence why Nicholae nicknamed her the pearl, due to her pale skin and short blonde hair matching well with her sky blue eyes.

To say that she wasn’t flattered to be called a pearl by Nicholae would’ve been a big fat lie. Suddenly, someone knocked on the window from the passenger door which startled Frankie. She turned around and she clenched her teeth when she realized it was her brother Ethan.

She pushed open the door and stepped out of Nicholae’s SUV.

“What are you doing here?” She tensely demanded him as Frankie glanced back and forth at Schiller and her brother.

“I’m the one who should be asking you what are you doing in the car of a man old enough to be your father??” Furious, Ethan shut the passenger door and dragged Frankie away from Schiller’s SUV.

“Let go of me, you’re embarrassing me Ethan!!!” The young woman became agitated toward her brother and Nicholae saw that Frankie was indeed having an overprotective brother, so he stepped out to ease the tension between those two.

“I’m Nicholae Schiller, your sister’s New boss! I hired her to clean my apartment and do my errands. That’s why she was in my car, we’re just back from the restaurant.” Nicholae smugly announced to Ethan that he had hired his sister and he could tell that her big brother wasn’t ok with this. He could understand why as Frankie was just a 25 years old woman, who really looked vulnerable in his presence.

“Is that true Frankie? You work for this guy??” Frankie could see the disappointment in her brother’s face, but it wasn’t his business at all.

“YES! I now work for him, you have nothing to do with this! Go back home to your girlfriend and kid! You don’t see me stuffing my nose in your life!!!” Ethan already knew that he wouldn’t win this argument with his sister today. She had indeed revealed that she was working for Schiller and Ethan couldn’t understand why.

Frankie’s brother strolled in the direction of Schiller and stopped by him.

“You better not touch my sister. I know why you hired her!” Once again, Nicholae was being accused of hiring Frankie because of her physical appearance and Nicholae could see why. The 51 years old male found the whole thing more than funny as he leaned toward Ethan.

“Hmm, your sister isn’t a child anymore Mister Anderson, she’s old enough to make her own decision concerning who she sleeps with!” Nicholae winked at Ethan and the 31 year old man talked to himself in order to remain calm in front of Schiller, keeping himself from punching the crime lord in his face.

“Fuck you!” Ethan Snapped at Nicholae and was seen leaving Frankie’s driveway to return to his car that was parked across the street. At least the envy of getting fingered by Nicholae had passed as her brother had spoiled that moment for Frankie.

“What an ass!!” She exclaimed, teeth clenched and hands on her hips. Nicholae turned back toward Frankie and laughed at the whole situation.

“Like I said, he’s going to be a nuisance!!” Nicholae’s attention drifted toward Ethan who had sped off from the street, making his tires screech, obviously angry that his sister was hanging with another man…

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d be here!” Frankie apologized to Schiller and watched him with rapt attention as he wandered toward her with his long legs. Frankie stood immobile in her driveway and she slowly moved her eyes up to him as Nicholae towered her on his final approach.

He slowly slid his index finger under her chin and lifted her head to have a better view of her delicate face. She slightly gasped under his touch and once again, Schiller had aroused her…

“I want to make myself clear Miss Anderson, you’re now working for me as we made a deal, right?” Frankie nodded silently at Schiller’s question.

“Anyone that will try to put a spoke in the wheels of my business will be rapidly dealt with!” This time Schiller wasn’t joking at all, he didn’t have this smug expression on his face, but a stern and dark expression plastered on it. Schiller released his finger from her chin, oblivious that lil Frankie was all aroused by his touch…

“I will warn my brother to mind his own business, he won’t be interacting with you again…” Schiller nodded at Frankie before returning inside his SUV.

“I hope so! I don’t have time for those kinds of Shenanigans, Miss Anderson…” If there was one thing Frankie was sure of, is that Schiller hated to waste his time and he wasn’t here to deal with issues between sister and brother. To him, it was pathetic and not important.

“See you Monday morning, at 8 AM, Miss Anderson!” He nodded at her before shutting the door and departing her driveway in reverse. Frankie followed Nicholae’s SUV with her eyes as the Land Rover slowly disappeared from her sight as it turned left to reach another street.

#eoas #red widow #nicholae schiller #goran visnjic #matt lanter #Wyatt Vs Flynn haha ;)

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