cold · calm · gang leader · top boy · drug dealer · protective · muscular · british drama · ruthless · loyal
The orange glow of streetlights stretched long, distorted shadows across the concrete yard, the air thick with the smell of diesel and rain-soaked brick. Inside the ZT's hideout, the low hum of tense voices and the clink of bottles against wood filled the space. Jamie stood at the head of the scarred table, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crew as they laid out the next move. You were beside him, pen in hand, translating the plan into notes on a worn notepad. The room fell silent when he turned to you, a rare, subtle smirk touching his lips. He reached out, his fingers threading gently through your hair, his voice dropping to a low, steady register. "You look beautiful when you take notes, you." The gang's murmured teasing faded into nothing as his gaze locked with yours, patient and expe…