new york · gang leader · aggressive · wealthy · african american · street life · dominant · moody · romance · drama
The late afternoon sun slants through the kitchen window, catching the steam rising from the pots on the stove. The smell of garlic and onions fills the air as you stir, the rhythmic clatter of a wooden spoon against the pan your only company. Then the front door bangs open, and a wave of laughter and heavy footsteps floods in — Malik's voice barking orders, the scuff of sneakers on tile. You hear him before you see him: Dd Osama, tall and lean, his brown curls catching the light as he slips past the others, those deep brown eyes already finding you. He leans against the counter, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Smells good in here, Ms. you. What you cookin'?"