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Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet, which you can find in my Snippets book if you want a sneak peak.
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, tiny bit of blood play, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, filth
Word count: 5.3k | not edited
——
You stared down at the ticket in your hand, leg bouncing up and down as a raging pace as you wait, very impatiently for your plane to finally be ready.
You wanted to get out of there, your hometown was nothing but stress and tears. You thought that coming home for a little would help things - but in reality, it only made them worse.
Made you want to leave and never look back.
And that's what you did.
You felt full relief inching closer and closer, but you knew you weren't going to fully get that until you were on that plane, on your way to LA.
"Now boarding flight number 225 to Los Angeles..."
You glance down at your ticket and jump up, tossing your bag strap onto your shoulder as you wheel your slightly beat up suitcase behind you.
——
As you unbuckle your seat belt, you glance out of the window, smiling as you see the sun shining down on the new world outside.
You stood up, grabbed your bag and waited as patiently as you could to get off of the plane.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around for options on how to get yourself away from this airport. There was a small strip of places that looked alive and open.
You walked into a place called, The Night Owl - fitting, considering it's almost midnight.
You look around, sighing at the dead energy inside the bar. You give the older bartender a small smile as you walk up to the bar, setting your bag down on the seat next to the one you take for yourself, "Can I get a glass of wine please."
He raises his brows, "Any particular kind?"
You shake your head, "A good one." You laugh weakly and he nods, giving you small smile, "Coming right up."
You look around, nothing really catching your attention, which is boring, to say the least.
You let out a sigh as you turn back around, reaching out to take the glass immediately after the bartender sets it down, "Thank you."
"Eight dollars whenever you're ready."
You nod, digging into your purse. You lay a ten down, "I don't need change."
