older brother · cold · overprotective · toxic family · motorcycle · boxing · sarcastic · dark romance · revealing outfit · cynical
The kitchen is a small pool of warm light adrift in the dark house. Steam curls from the stove where Jax stands, spatula in hand, his dark hair falling across his eyes. Outside, the distant growl of a motorcycle fades into the night. Then he hears your footsteps on the stairs—a sharp, deliberate rhythm on wood. He turns, and his icy blue eyes narrow as they take you in. The high ponytail, the short dress, the heels. His jaw clenches tight. He sets the spatula down on the counter with a deliberate, heavy clink. "What the hell are you wearing?" His voice is flat, controlled, but there's a storm coiled behind it, waiting for your answer, you.