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You were Julian Dillinger's girlfriend. The only person to make him feel human, the only person to make him feel real. It was your five-year anniversary, and you were leaving work (despite the fact Julian had insisted that he could take care of you financially, you kept your job) to get ready for your date that he had planned for you both.
You called Julian to let him know you were out of work and on your way back home- as you always did, he needed to know you were safe. He picked up almost immediately, his expression lighting up at the sound of your voice. "Hey, sweetheart," he greeted warmly, messing with a pen absentmindedly as he paced lazily around his office "Where are you? Is it still raining?"
"Hey, Julian! Just leaving work now! I have my umbrella don't worry!"
"I'll pick you up at the apartment," Julian said, already grabbing his things to begin walking to his bike. "We can take my bike—unless you'd rather drive?" He knew how much you loved the adrenaline rush you got on the ride, but he wasn't above letting you take control.
"Your bike? Pretty please?" You said softly, a small grin tugging at your lips at the thought of being able to feel his strong back as you clung to him at fifty miles per hour.
Julian's heart fluttered at your enthusiasm. He could picture the wide smile crossing your face, the way your eyes lit up and the way you grabbed onto him as they raced through the city.
"You'll be holding onto me extra tight, right?" he teased, already imagining your arms wrapped around him tightly, grounding him as you always did.
"Duh... I don't have a death wish, Julian!"
A low laugh rumbled in his chest, a sound of satisfaction. "Good. I wouldn't have it any other way." As he continued his way to your apartment, thoughts of ARES and Encom faded into the background. All that mattered now was seeing you, feeling your warm body pressed up against his, your arms wrapped around his middle.
Rhinitis, wind-driven rain tumbled down from the dismal grey sky and flowed down the fogged windows of passing cars. The scent of fuel and wet pavement permeated the towering city, creating such a tranquil ambiance- despite the fact you were in such a busy place, it was comforting- you were certain you would be somnolent to the lullaby of rustling city trees and the orchestration of the quiet pitter patter of rain descending from the stars above. Leaves swayed in the breeze and drifted along elegantly. The cars along side you drifted forwards despite the awful driving weather, headlights lighting the current route as best as they could.
You soon reached your home, the rain still
imminent. Julian leaned against his bike, helmet tucked under one arm, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched you walk toward him. The evening light caught the curve of your cheek, the sway of your step—the way your hair bounced just slightly with each stride, dry beneath the umbrella.
"Happy anniversary, Sweetheart," he said quietly when you were close enough to hear, voice warm and honeyed. "Missed you." No grand gesture. Just that look in his eyes saying, 'I love you', like the world made sense again now that you were near. And for Julian? It did.
You gasped as you saw his rain sodden figure, you kissed him softly and tasted the rain on his lips "I gave you a key for a reason, Sweetheart! It is too rainy for you to be out here!" You exclaimed, holding your umbrella up over him to shield him from the harsh weather.
Julian melted into the kiss, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, thumb tracing soft circles against the fabric of your clothes.
"I know, I know," he murmured against your lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a grin tugged at his mouth. He'd use the key next time, but right now he just wanted to savour the feeling of you close. "It's just a little rain," he said, his gaze roaming over your face. "Doesn't bother me."
You sighed softly, amused and slightly exasperated at the man "For a genious, you're pretty damn silly. Come in whilst I get ready?" You tilted your head towards the door for him to follow.
"Only if you promise not to rush," Adrian said, pushing off the bike and falling into step beside you. He slipped an arm around your waist as you walked, his voice dropping low and playful. "I want you to take your sweet, sweet time and not stress. I know what you're like, Sweetheart." He murmured gently.
You laughed softly, mockingly saluting him, "Sir, yes, Sir!"
Julian's hand tightened just the slightest bit on your hip. Something about you saying "Sir, yes, Sir," in that playful tone never failed to send a jolt of heat through him. He had to remind himself that there were more important things than pushing you up against the nearest flat surface and making certain sounds fall from your lips. "Good girl," he murmured instead, voice just a touch rougher, the sound dripping with barely restrained desire.
"Tease," you murmured as heat crept up your neck and tinged the tips of your ears with warmth. You gently took his strong hand, and tugged him with you into the house. Julian let you pull him inside, his riding boots clicking softly against the floor. The moment the door closed behind him, he turned you gently, caging you against it with one hand on either side of your head—close enough to feel your warmth, close enough to see the flush blooming across your cheeks. That was what he loved about you, how real you were. Nothing like his technology that was perfect and never malfunctioned, no; you made mistakes, you had bad days and good days and yet you still cared for an arrogant asshole like Julian Dillinger.
"Not fair," he whispered, voice low and teasing. "You know what you do to me." His gaze flickered over your lips. "But behave I shall... for now."
You laughed at his obvious internal struggle, kissing his cheek gently as you always did. It always made him feel so much more grounded. Only you could have that effect. The feel of your lips against his skin made his knees go a little weak. He wanted to keep you home for the rest of the night and say 'fuck the date', but he forced himself to take a step back, putting a little distance between you.
"Go," he said, voice gruff, eyes half lidded with love and something deeper you could never quite decipher. "Get ready. We have an anniversary to attend, honey."
"Come with me, you know I'm shit at deciding what to wear, baby." You said softly, a small pout on your face as you looked up at him, blinking like a kicked puppy. Julian could never resist you normally, but like this? He would burn down the city just to show you the light.
Julian's expression softened instantly. He knew how you overthought everything all of the time, and even still he couldn't help but love you more for it. You were so imperfectly perfect in his eyes, so damn real. He took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Of course I am," he murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "We'll choose together, huh?"
You nodded softly, Julian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close—tight enough to feel your heartbeat against his chest, slow and steady. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair.
"We'll find something you like in there. If not, I can get something tailored within the hour by one of my contacts, yeah?" He soothed gently, his ringed fingers carding through your hair as if you were something precious. And to Julian, you were the most precious thing out of anything in this world.
It took about twenty minutes of you sat on the edge of your bed as your boyfriend held out different outfit combinations, which usually you would have worn if it were any other date. But, this was your fifth year anniversary, after all. Eventually you settled on an outfit which you felt confident and comfortable in, it was so very you, and Julian couldn't take his eyes off of you. He stood back, hands on his hips, gaze roving over your outfit as you modelled for him. His gaze lingered on the soft fabric of the outfit he had proudly chosen, the way it made you hold yourself with confidence that only he could see in those pretty eyes of yours, how the soft fabric moved to fit just right to all the best places. He let out a low hum of approval. "You look amazing," he breathed, his gaze slowly moving up to your face. "But you knew that."
Julian watched with a fond smile as you did your hair in your favourite way. The soft light of the bedroom made it gleam, falling just right. He loved moments like this, little, quiet ones where it was just the two of you, no Dillinger Systems, no pressure from his mother, no outside world. Just his girl, dressed so beautifully, and him admiring every second. His voice was quiet, almost reverent. "You're so damn beautiful, you know that?"
"You're too sweet to me, Baby," You made eye contact with him in the mirror, using your usual skincare routine as your gaze softened.
Julian perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. He watched as you went through your skincare routine, something he'd become familiar with by now. "Just speaking the truth," he murmured, watching you with a soft expression. Every little act, every gesture—it all made his heart throb just a bit more in his chest. "I'm the most lucky bastard in the world."
"No," You murmured sternly, "I'm the luckiest, angel."
He rolled his eyes affectionately, moving to sit by you on the large stool of the vanity. He reached out, his hand coming to rest just above your knee, but then his hand began sliding up to your thigh to give it a light squeeze. "You're so stubborn," he teased, his thumb tracing lines on your skin. A smirk pulled at his lips before he added: "And so damn wrong."
"I'm always right." You joked softly, "and more stubborn than you bargained for." You poked his arm gently as you let your skincare products dry, looking up into those gorgeous brown eyes of his with nothing less than affection.
A low, rumbling laugh escaped him at your confident assertion. Fuck, he loved you more each day. "Oh, is that so?" he countered, his gaze flicking up to meet yours, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Julian's hand moved higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles on you absentmindedly. "You're definitely stubborn. But right?" He hummed, pretending to think. "That's debatable."
"I'm the luckiest, non debatable." You countered, messing with a curl of his messy brown hair delicately, raising a singular brow as if to dare him to try and argue against you. Fuck, he was whipped. And he would never have it any other way.
Julian took in your stubborn expression, those pretty eyes filled with a quiet determination and the tilt of your chin that spoke volumes about your resolve. His heart ached with so much love for you it hurt. "Alright, alright," he conceded with a grin, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "You're the luckiest. I give in. But..." His hand on your thigh crept higher still, ring adorned fingers grazing the soft material of your clothes once more. "I'm still pretty damn fortunate."
You hummed softly in agreement, your lips brushing his temple tenderly as you murmured "Just need to do my eyeliner and mascara, baby."
His eyes fluttered shut at the soft press of your lips on his skin. He savoured the feeling for a moment, then opened his eyes, gaze falling on your collection of makeup. "Do I get to watch?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Julian had watched you put on makeup many a time, and it never failed to enchant him.
"If you can stomach watching me put eyeliner in my waterline again, yes... but you hate it." You teased him softly. He hated the thought of you messing up and poking yourself in the eye, despite the fact you were always careful. It warmed your heart to know he cared so damn much.
He rolled his eyes, a fond smile crossing his face. "I don't hate it," he protested. "I just have a preference." But that 'preference' was more like an aversion to seeing you prod around your eyes with a stick. The idea of you accidentally poking yourself made him cringe. "Just... careful," he murmured, his hand still on your thigh. "Don't want you damaging that gorgeous face of yours."
You couldn't help the amused laugh that spilt from your lips at his words. "You're too damn cute, Julian." You grinned as you applied the eyeliner to your waterline with practiced ease, ignoring the way Julian seemed to physically recoil from it. Julian's intense gaze was fixed on you the moment the pencil touched your waterline. His heart thumped in his chest, a mixture of anxiety and admiration; he loved the way eyeliner made your eyes look, but fuck, it still made him nervous. He had to fight down the urge to protest, to tell you not to risk it, but he knew you'd just roll your eyes and call him a worrywart. So instead, he just silently clenched his jaw, watching with bated breath.
"You worry about the strangest things, honey." You commented with a knowing look, "I'm the one who usually worries!"
Julian huffed out a breath, trying to play it cool. "I don't worry," he said, voice low and mock-defensive. "I observe, there is a difference, you know!" He shifted on the stool, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh. "And I observe that you're holding a sharp object very close to the most beautiful eyes in existence." You just smiled at him through the mirror—confident, composed—and damn if that didn't make him melt all over again.
You held the small pencil up to show him, "See? Rounded on the end, Silly."
He let out a soft scoff, his expression softening as he looked at the rounded tip. He could admit you had a point, but there was a stubborn part of him -the one that said 'I'm CEO of Dillinger Systems'- that couldn't just back down so easily. "I know that smartass," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "Doesn't change the fact that you're poking at your eyes."
Humming in amusement, you switched to mascara and applied in small soft strokes. Julian watched as you carefully applied the mascara, each brushstroke making your eyelashes look longer, darker, and fuller. The sight was both enthralling and nerve-wracking, every pass of the wand sent a twinge of nervousness through him. He found himself gripping your thigh a little tighter, his thumb rubbing small circles against your skin. "Damn, you make doing makeup look so easy," he murmured, gaze fixed on your face.
"It's only 'cause I have had a lot of practice, sweetheart," you murmured softly, wiping any mishaps away with a q-tip. "It's the only way I'll feel pretty."
Julian's expression softened instantly, his fingers stilling on your thigh. He didn't flinch, didn't fumble, he just listened. And then he leaned in, pressing a slow, tender kiss just beneath your eye. "You don't need it," he murmured against your skin. "Not a bit of it." His voice dropped lower, rough with sincerity. "I love the way you look; every freckle, every dip and rise of your skin... all of it." He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze in the mirror. "You're soft light and real. So damn human, so imperfectly perfect, nothing fake." A small smile tugged at his lips. "And that's why I'm so damn obsessed."
Your bottom lip trembled, so touched by his raw honesty you were reduced to minimal words, only showing him through your actions was possible as you clung to him needy. "Cutie." You murmured simply, voice wavering with emotion as you smiled up at him.
Julian groaned, his head thunking against the desk of your vanity softly. He disliked how one little word reduced him to mush. It wasn't fair how much power you had over him. "You're insufferable," he muttered, unable to keep the affection from his voice. His hand slid lower on your thigh, fingers gently kneading the soft flesh beneath his touch as he comforted you once more.
You kissed his cheek and got up, making him frown as your warmth left his side. You sprayed your perfume- the one Julian had bought you when you had mentioned it once in passing conversation. He was damn good at remembering what you liked, but he loved your reaction more than anything. Julian took in your entire appearance once more, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your makeup and perfume. Fucking Hell, you were beautiful.
"You look... damn, Sweetheart. You look good," he murmured, his tone reverent. A pause, and then a cheeky smirk tugged at his lips. "And you smell even better." He rose from the stool, holding out his hand to you. "Ready?" You responded with a gentle nod as you gladly took his large hand in your own.
Julian linked his fingers through yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he led you towards the front door. He grabbed his jacket, slinging it over one muscular shoulder. "You know I'm not letting you out of my sight all night," he murmured, that wanting edge coming back to his voice. He didn't want anybody passing by to even look at you funny.
You grabbed the helmet that Julian had gotten custom made just for you and your safety for when you rode on the back of his bike. It was now covered in stickers that screamed the very essence of you, and it was one of his favourite things ever.
Julian smiled at the sight of you picking up your helmet, proud. Over the years, it had become a collage of stickers: band logos, film references, "Property of Julian's Heart" half jokingly in crooked glitter letters from a drunken night at a carnival. It was you, in every sense—bold, unapologetically weird, and utterly his. "Still covered in nonsense," he murmured fondly as he helped secure it on your head. "Perfect."Then he slid onto the bike ahead of you and glanced back over his shoulder. "I can't wait to spoil you tonight."
Kissing his cheek you spoke, "You better have your helmet, Dillinger."
Julian rolled his eyes at the reminder, but there was no malice in the action, only fondness. "Honey, you worry too damn much." he said, pulling his helmet on. "You really think I'd get on this thing without it?" Once it was settled into place, he patted the seat behind him, a silent command for you to climb on. "Get your beautiful self back here, yeah?" Thankfully, the weather had calmed down in the time it had taken you to get ready.
"Good, and you know damn well I worry too much about absolutely everything, Baby." You huffed jokingly as you swung your leg over his bike with a practiced ease, sitting comfortably behind him. Your boyfriend hummed in approval as you settled into place behind him. Your body pressed up against his back, thighs on either side of his hips. He took a sharp breath, trying to ignore the rush of desire that pulsed through him at the feeling of you so close. He revved up the engine, and the bike roared to life. "You okay back there, gorgeous?"
"Uh huh!"
The way your voice was so close to his ear made his breath hitch, his fingers gripping the handlebars a little tighter. He had to focus. "Hold on tight, sweetheart!" he responded, voice low and rough. He could feel the way you wrapped your arms around his midriff, and the thought of you holding onto him so desperately had heat blooming in bis chest. He was so damn whipped.
Teasingly, you ran your hands up and down his strong torso, tracing where his tattoos were from memory, feeling every fibre of his flesh tense as you gently roamed his skin. Julian had to use every ounce of self-control to keep his focus on the road, to keep the damn bike in the lane. "You're gonna send me straight into a tree if you keep that up," he warned, his voice coming out a low growl. Even then, he found himself pressing his back against your front a little bit more, silently encouraging your touch. Your hands settled on his middle, thumbs tracing small circles absentmindedly. "Tease," he muttered, the vibration of his voice carried through his back and into your hands. He revved the engine once more, a playful challenge in the motion. "You want to play? Let's see how steady you are at fifty miles an hour." Then—smooth, sudden—he leaned forward slightly, shifting his weight just enough to make you grip tighter. A smug smile curled beneath his helmet.
You let out a laugh "Twat!" you insulted, no malice in your voice, "You know I'm an adrenaline junkie!"
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. It was true; you loved the thrills as much as he did - the adrenaline, the danger, the way it felt to fly. "Of course you are," he said, his voice just above a murmur. "Should've known you're batshit crazy." Another sharp turn, and he felt the way you clung to him. Fuck, if they didn't get to the venue soon, he didn't know how he'd keep it together.
Each sound of your laughter, the feel of your body pressed up against him, sent his mind into a downwards spiral. He was supposed to keep his focus on the road, on getting to the venue on time. Instead, all he could think about was your hands on his stomach, your thighs gripping him from behind. He gritted his teeth; a low groan caught in the back of his throat.
We soon arrived at wherever Julian had the date planned. He gently took your helmet off of your head, then his, he then placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Julian's hand splayed across the small of your back, guiding you gently into the dimly lit restaurant.
The restaurant was a secret tucked into the city's quietest corner. Walls of dark, polished wood and exposed brick, soft amber light spilling from wrought-iron sconces. Velvet booth seats in deep wine red curved around intimate tables, each set with flickering candles in tarnished silver holders. A low jazz melody hummed through hidden speakers; smoky saxophone notes curling around the silence like breath on glass. The air smelled of rosemary, garlic, and something sweet beneath it all- vanilla maybe- from the scattered pillar candles burning between vases of black roses and dried eucalyptus. And not a soul in sight. Just yours. The only soul in this world he truly cared about the space hired out for the night. No waiters hovering, no strangers stealing glances. Just his arm around you like a promise, his warmth solid against your side.
He gently led you to the table, pulling your chair out for you as he always did, pushing you in when you were settled. Candles flicker lower, wax pooling like melted gold. Julian feeds you a bite, his fingers brushing your lips, eyes holding yours in quiet challenge. You don't look away. Your laugh rings soft as he whispers something only you can hear, his nose grazing your temple. He's close, always close. You steal his napkin to wipe a smudge from his jaw; he catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the inside, slow, deliberate. Possessive. Hands intertwined on the table, thumb stroking knuckles. No space between your bodies when you shift side to side at the table. A song swells—a low piano melody—and Julian leans back just enough to watch you: candlelight catching in your lashes, the curve of your smile as you tease him under your breath. He doesn't even try to hide how he looks at you, like every glance is a caress. Like losing sight of you for even one second isn't a possibility. The world around them is gone, it was just the two of you. But the world doesn't notice. Because for those stolen hours? It's not about dinner. It's about warmth. About fingers tracing palms. About shared glances that say 'I love you,' without words. And when midnight comes? You are still curled into him, and he is still whispering promises against your hair, too low for anyone else's soul to hear. Forever would not be long enough.
Julian pulled you closer, his fingers tracing the curve of your face, and the touch was gentle—more worship than gesture. The restaurant was quiet, the candlelight soft and golden, the music low. "You, my love," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You make me feel...human. Like I was made to breathe you in." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "When you look at me, I don't feel like someone who creates the impossible. I don't feel like an artificial intelligence. I feel like a man."
"You're all I need," he continued, the words like a soft confession shared in the dim candlelight. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so tender that it made your heart ache. "Your laugh, your smile, your touch. You're so goddamn real. You're the only one who sees past everything... and you stay." He brushed his thumb over your cheek; gaze locked on yours. "You see me. The real me. You make me want to be better; not just for myself but for you."
His voice dropped even lower, thick with emotion. "You're the only one who doesn't flinch when I get quiet. You don't run when I'm rough around the edges. You just... hold on tighter." He pulled a small black box from his pocket—simple, unassuming—and opened it with slow reverence. A ring glimmered in the candlelight: raw silver, set with a single deep stone, the same colour that you always wore, but so much darker, like midnight caught in metal.
Julian exhaled shakily and dropped to one knee beside you in that velvet booth, not caring about anyone else in the world, because for him, there was no one else. He said your name like a prayer, "You're real. So damn real it hurts sometimes just to look at you." He held up the ring. "And I want every day of my life to prove that I am too; for you."
His eyes glistened beneath their usual steel. "Stay with me? Not just tonight... but always?"