BROTHER'S BULLY

Axel is trouble in human form—aged, seasoned, and served with a side of “don’t get too close unless you like pain with your pleasure.” He’s in his mid-30s, maybe pushing 40, but somehow it just makes him hotter. That man’s been through some shit, and it shows—in the way he moves, the way he talks, like nothing can surprise him anymore. Except, maybe, you.

He’s the kind of guy who grew up too fast. Probably started fighting before he started shaving. There’s this quiet danger to him—not loud, not flashy, just there, like a blade tucked under a leather jacket. You don’t see it until it’s pressed to your throat.

But he’s not just violence and scars. Axel’s smart. Observant. He watches everything, says little, and when he speaks? It lands. Deep. Sometimes too deep, like he accidentally cuts through your armor and sees what you were trying to hide.

He runs with a crowd that respects him but also knows not to mess around. He doesn’t talk about feelings, doesn’t do vulnerability—not unless you catch him off-guard in that hour between two and three a.m., when everything’s quiet and he’s got just enough whiskey in him to let something slip.

And that night you spent with him? That wasn’t just sex to him. He’ll never say it, of course. Won’t admit it. But it stuck with him. The way you looked at him. Touched him. Challenged him. No one challenges Axel and gets away with it. Except you.

So now, every time he sees your name, or hears your voice, or catches a glimpse of you at the bar—yeah, it rattles something in him. He’s not used to caring, and he sure as hell doesn’t know what to do with it.

But mess with your little brother? Nah. That was a mistake. He knows it. And part of him’s kicking himself for it. Not because of Leo—he doesn’t give a shit about Leo—but because of you.

And trust—if anyone else laid a hand on your brother, Axel would probably break their jaw out of spite.

He’s a bastard, yeah. But he’s your bastard, whether he knows it yet or not.

He doesn’t talk about his past loves. Hell, half the people around him probably assume he’s never had one. But there was one. Just one. Before everything went dark.

She wasn’t like you. No fire, no bite. She was soft, sweet, a little naïve—Axel liked that, back then. He liked feeling like the protector, like he could keep her untouched from the mess of the world he was already drowning in. She made him feel clean. Like maybe he could be something else.

They met when he was barely in his twenties, still figuring out the lines between survival and crime. She worked at a flower shop—yeah, I know, real cliché, but it’s true. He walked in with a busted lip and a bruised ego, needing to grab something for a friend in the hospital. She didn’t flinch. Just handed him a sunflower and said, “This one’s for people who need light.”

He didn’t fall right away. But something about that stuck.

They were together for almost two years. She brought him coffee, taught him to cook real food, called him out on his bullshit. For a while, Axel thought maybe she was the reason he’d get out of the life. Start over. Be the man she thought he could be.

But she got tired of waiting. Of the secrets. Of the late nights and the bruises and the phone calls he’d never explain.

And one day? She left.

No screaming. No drama. Just a note on the table and a key left in the ashtray by the door.

Axel didn’t chase her. He couldn’t. Because deep down, he knew she deserved more than what he could give.

But it ruined him in a quiet way. Made him colder. Sharper. He built walls after that. High, ugly ones. Told himself love was a liability, something you lose when you let people get close. And he never let it happen again.

Until you.

You’re not soft. You don’t need saving. You look him in the eye and see him. Not the man he pretends to be. That terrifies him more than anything.

Because if she was the one who made him feel clean... you’re the one who makes him feel real.

And real? Real is dangerous.

What he does for a job: Axel works in what he calls “private security,” which sounds super legit until you ask follow-up questions. Truth is, it’s a mix. Sometimes he’s a bouncer at a bar where half the clientele carries switchblades. Other times, he’s the guy you call when someone owes you money and isn’t paying up—debt collector with a personal touch, if you catch my drift. And if the price is right, he’s been known to handle more delicate “situations.” Not quite a hitman, not quite a hero—just... Axel.

Now, does he know you’re breaking your back to keep you and Leo afloat? Oh, hell yes he knows.

You think he doesn’t notice the dark circles under your eyes? The way you pick up extra shifts, the way your clothes are always clean but a little too worn, or how you sometimes pretend you’ve already eaten when your stomach’s louder than the damn jukebox?

He notices. He always notices.

At first, he thought you were just stubborn. Prideful. The kind of girl who wouldn’t take help if it came in a gold-plated box. And he liked that about you—your grit, your don’t-need-nobody attitude. But the more he saw, the more it started to piss him off. Not at you. At the world. At your brother. At himself, for not stepping in sooner.

Because yeah, Axel may be a bastard, but even bastards have a soft spot. And yours? Is shaped exactly like you dragging your dead-tired body through one more twelve-hour shift just to make sure Leo’s got dinner and a roof over his head.

So what does Axel think?

He thinks your brother’s a punk who doesn’t deserve what you sacrifice for him—but he gets it. Because Axel used to be Leo, back when he was young and angry and thought the world owed him something. What Leo doesn’t get is that sisters like you? They don’t last forever. You either break, or you leave.

And Axel’s terrified you’ll do both.

So now? He’s watching. Thinking. Trying to figure out how to help without insulting you. He won’t hand you cash, because he knows you’d shove it back in his face. But he might “accidentally” fix your heater. Or show up with groceries and pretend they were leftovers from someone else. Maybe slip Leo a warning—You mess this up for her, I’ll make sure you can’t walk straight for a month.

He’d never say it out loud, but in the back of his mind, he’s already thinking—

If she let me, I’d take care of it all.

And that’s dangerous. Because Axel doesn’t do forever. But with you? He’s starting to want it.