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Alisia Arabian
Alisia Arabian

Posts : 60
Join date : 2013-10-05
Age : 26
Location : Yerevan, Armenia

Apologies  Empty
PostSubject: Apologies    Apologies  I_icon_minitimeTue Oct 22, 2013 5:15 am

Alisia couldn't remember why she'd let him into her house in the first place.

The Armenian of only twenty stood in the arch of her front door, bags already slid from her arms to the floor as she stared in horror at the mess before her. Broken vases, her couch overturned, chairs smashed and bent, her pantries looted, and....were those pants on the ceiling fan? An angry red splotched on her cheeks, her hands clenching into shaking fists. She was finally going to do it. She wouldn't let him bowl her over anymore. She was going to stand up to him.

With heavy steps, she marched towards his bedroom. Or, the bedroom in her house she'd allowed him to use. Her knock was urgent, and she breathed heavily. 'Keep it together Alisia.' She'd failed in standing up to him before, but today was different. It didn't matter who the media said he was, how he could charm his way out of behind bars. When he didn't answer, she grit her teeth, before stiffening. Thud. Thud. Thud. Was that...her bedroom? Alisia paled, wondering what in God's-name he'd being doing in her bedroom. She trudged back down the hall, throwing the door open.

And wished she hadn't.

There he was, Iain Kirkland, hunched and half naked, on her bed, a woman with mouth gaped in ecstasy beneath him.

Her last bag fell to the floor with a thud.

A head of blonde and ruby red swiveled towards her, but Alisia was well gone. She could hear the gruff shout of her name, but she didn't care. Well, that was far from the truth. She did care. Too much, and it was tearing her apart. She didn't stop running until she was in the sanctity of the guest bathroom, all the way on the other side of the house. How many times had he done this? Her and Iain weren't....anything. He was a washed up guitarist, using her home as a refuge. How many times now had she regretted that one night, the night where she found him drunk, stumbling along his car. If she'd let him drive home....well, he might not even be here now. Using her. Her home.

It wasn't so much that she had a rude, inconsiderate, lazy, messy, immoral man using her house like a trashheap, then treating her like a child or she was part of that trashheap. No, that wasn't even close to the worst part of it all. It was the way her heart thumped at high speeds when he walked to close. The way a single brush of skin could heat her to the core. The way her heart fluttered when she watched him sleep on her couch, peaceful and harmless.

She'd fallen for the most infuriating man on the whole planet, and she hated it.


A drowsy, half naked Scot stumbled from his host's room, dark bags under his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. "Feckin'....hangover...." Cecilia....was that her name? Or was it Dorothy? Maybe Bethany......Anyway, the blonde girl had left the house hours before, leaving nothing but a card with her number, and a twenty dollar bill slapped right down next to it. It'd made him chuckle. What, was HE the prostitute? He didn't really care though, it'd buy him a few extra drinks, which he could always use.

The first sign that something was off, VERY off, was the emptiness of the kitchen. He blinked, eyes narrowing. No smell of freshly-baked pastries, no light, soft humming as the small girl worked to prepare a delicious breakfast. Iain rubbed at his eyes, blinking again. Nope, still empty. "The feck?" His eyes searched lazily for her, but he gaze up quite quickly, shrugging and dragging himself to the fridge. He threw it open with a clang, half-empty and empty bottles of alcohol rolling from the disheveled shelves. He raised a thick eyebrow, before kicking one aside gruffly. This was beyond strange....she hadn't even cleaned it up! Whenever Iain had fun while she was out, she'd always pick up his messes. Every single time, without fail. And eventually she'd even done it without complaint. The way Iain preferred. But THIS....was beyond weird. He wrinkled his nose, plucking up one of the half-empty bottles, not caring that some sloshed onto the floor as he took a swig. He was sure she'd clean that up too. He loosened the string on his pajama pants, letting them drift comfortably off his hips. Hell, if she'd let him, Iain'd be running around naked 24/7.

He was about to collapse comfortably on her couch, only to find that it was still overturned. He made a face. Alright, now THIS was just going to get annoying. She could move, couldn't she? "Woman shoul' be doin' her damn job..." he grumbled. He dragged his foot through the house, angry eyes searching. "'EY. ALISIA. YE FORGO' ABOOT THA' COUCH!" No answer made him blink in confusion. "....Wha' is she feckin' dead?" He was about to turn to look back in her bedroom, and froze.

Was that....... sniffling?

Slowly, he turned back around, pressing his ear against the door of the guest bathroom. His eyes widened slightly, fingers closing around the doorknob, pushing it open just a crack. He watched as she raked her nails against the wall, her body shaking with muffled sobs. Her hair was a tattered mess, and he couldn't see her face with her back turned. He let the door fall open the rest of the way, staring at her wide surprised eyes, and her body stiffened. She'd heard. Slowly she turned, and it was only then that Iain could see what a mess she was. Chocolate eyes laced with red, her small, delicate hands shaking, wavy locks tattered about her face. Just how long had she been crying for?

"....The feck's wrong with ya?"

Ok, that was probably the wrong thing to say, judging by how she winced. She turned from him, standing shakily and rubbing her eyes dry out of embarrassment. "N-nothing." Was all she said, turning and brushing right by him. Iain raised an eyebrow. She always had something to say about his behavior. The lack of a lecture was surprising him, as well as many things. More beer sloshing onto the carpet, he followed her. He wondered if she was returning to normal. She bent low to the fridge.....and drew out an apricot. Her feet dragged, and he saw her glance at her room, cringe, then shove the couch back into place, collapsing against it.

"....Nae breakfast?"

No reaction whatsoever. Her teeth sunk into the fruit, eyes trained on the wall ahead of her. Iain cringed, slamming his bottle down on the coffee table in front of her. She winced at that, but nothing more. He couldn't help but let out an angry growl, slamming an angry gloved hand next to her face, leaning in close. "Ye gonna tell me wha' the feck the problem is?" He saw her, shaking slightly, her eyes not daring to meet his.

"Just....go away."

He blinked at that. Go away? He'd never heard her sound so defeated before. "And if I say nae?" No answer. "Alisia." She looked at him then. He rarely ever addressed her by first name, but she quickly wished she hadn't. Before he could say anything else hurtful, she ducked under his arm, quickly making a run for the kitchen. The Scot growled, quickly following after her. She ran behind a counter, trying to keep some distance between them. Iain snorted, throwing appliances off the counter with ease, easily hurtling himself over and landing right in front of her. "Ye gonna stop runnin'?" She shook her head, turning and darting for the back of the kitchen, right for the backdoor. Iain shook his head, catching up to her with ease. He yanked her roughly back by the shoulder, slamming her against a wall with furious emeralds. "Alrigh'. Ye done? Good." She was shaking again, staring at him with frightened brown eyes. "Ye see tha'?" He made a gesture to the alcohol mess splattered in front of her fridge, broken glass and all. "Ye shoul'a had tha' cleaned up hours ago. Nae tae mention I'm still feckin' hungry." He wrinkled his nose. "An' ye're jus' in there, sobbin' like a wee babe while-"


He'd never in his life expect for Alisia to shove him of all people, but she looked genuinely hurt. Not that Iain cared, when did he ever? Her eyes narrowed to furious slits, and she stomped her foot against the ground. Another foreign gesture to the Scot. "You can't just treat me like......like some slave!" She pointed towards her room. "You bring some WHORE into my house! A-and...and...you just...FUCK her! Did you ever ask ME if I wanted some filthy slut in my house?! Did you!?" Tears were streaming from her already bloodshot eyes, but Iain only rose an eyebrow. "...I donnae see why ye'd care, i's nae like this is new. I bri-" "I KNOW you bring them in all the time!" She gestured to the messes he'd left. "A-and..you...you have no remorse! No regard for how I feel whatsoever! And you just wreck my house and....." she sucked in a huge breath, roaring at him. "And I'M DONE!"

He stared at her with shock.

"If you love your whores so much, g-go bunk with one of them!" She threw a random appliance at him, before slumping against a counter, face falling into her hands. Really...what was wrong with this girl? She'd never complained like this before, and certainly had never...well, yelled at him. She'd just taken his verbal abuse, his crassness, everything. A long moment of silence passed between them, only the sounds of her sobs could be heard.


Alisia stiffened. "Wha-" "Ye heard me." He leaned casually against a wall, shrugging broad shoulders. "I like i' here. Three goo' meals a day, bed tae res' in....Nae. I donnae think I'll leave." He smirked, knowing how she'd hate that answer. Teasing or frustrating her always brought him a sick glee. She was the only one that let him get away with it. ....Well, unless it was a whore, but his dick usually did the trick for that. With Alisia well....it was a different case. She wasn't that physically appealing...why did he stick around? "N-no....just....Go!" She pointed towards the front door, other hand still covering her face. Iain sighed, rolling his eyes and marching up to her. Long, rough fingers laced around the trembling delicate hand covering her face, and she froze instantly. He lowered it slowly, with a surprisingly gentle force. He caught the faint pink on her cheeks.

And smirked.

"Ah, I ge' i' now." Her eyes widened in question, and he chuckled darkly, folding her hand in his, letting his fingers stroke the skin lazily. He watched her confused, flustered eyes dart from their adjoined hands, then back to his eyes, over and over. Well, why hadn't he seen this sooner? He was probably too lazy to look, but it was painfully obvious. "I swear, ye're like a book." it was more of a mumble, and he lightly let his lips skim over one knuckle, then another, then another....


He glanced up back her, a lewd grin stretching across his face. "Why?" His fingers massaged at her palm, his fingers snaking down her hand to wrap around her wrist, bringing her flush against him with one sharp tug. Her face was a blooming red, and she looked so conflicted......Iain was loving it. "Ye'd be lonely withoot me..." He backed her up until she hit the wall. "Who else woul' keep ye company? Ye have nae friends, an' yer family's dead." He pressed her wrist against the wall, leaning his face closer..."An' ye're the one tha' brought me here in the first place, fed me, made be all be'ter..." He didn't stop until only a hair's-breadth separated their lips, and she was shaking like a leaf. He could see all her flash of emotions, right in those beautiful brown eyes. Hate, anger, confusion, hope......He knew what it all meant, and it nearly made his grin split his face in two.

"Nae tae mention ye' love me."

Alisia jerked against him, trying to get out of his grip, trying to run, but only collided face-first with his bare chest. He laughed, pressing his face into her hair. "Where ye goin' lass?" His whisper was sultry, smooth as butter, and it had her weak in the knees. "L-let...me go..." "Why shoul' I do tha'?" She tensed, trying to shove him again, but the second grip placed itself on her back, keeping her flush against him. "I-I won't be one of them!"

Iain blinked, staring down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Wai'. One of who-" "T-those whores!" She practically sobbed it out, her hands clenched into fists. "You don't care about me! Y-you care about your whiskey! And your sex, and...y-your stupid debt! The one you use ME to hide from! You don't care if you break my stuff o-or bring dirty sluts into my house and...o-on MY bed and....." She made a light gasp as a long finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. "Ah, tha's wha' yer mad aboot?"

Tears were beading up at the edges of her eyes again, and she made a choking sound. He leaned down slowly, fluidly, until he was eye level with the shorter woman. "Aye, i' seems maybe I have a bi' of a debt tae repay tae ya too, don't I?" He chuckled, and she stared at him with confusion. He was....going to apologize? "I don't.....you....." she gulped, "never apologize...."

He smirked, pressing his body hard against hers.

"Who sai' i' was an apology?"
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