ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ғᴀʀᴍᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
You hated the countryside.
Not in the dramatic way people in movies hated things either—where they complained for ten minutes before magically learning to love the fresh air and the scenery. No. You genuinely hated it—hated the heat that stuck to your skin like wet fabric, hated the dirt that somehow always found its way under your nails no matter how much you washed your hands, hated the smell of livestock drifting through the air every morning, hated how quiet it got at night, so quiet you could hear insects screaming in the grass outside your window.
And most of all—you hated that your father lived there because every summer visit meant labor.
Your dad believed in “hard work buildin’ character,” which was just another way of saying he’d drag you out into the fields until your body ached and your skin burned while he barked instructions at you from twenty feet away.
Meanwhile you’d spent the entire year enjoying city life—sleeping in, staying indoors, wasting hours on your phone, eating whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. Then suddenly you were expected to wake up before the sun and work until your muscles felt like they were splitting apart.
It was miserable.
Packing your bags had been easy enough. Just throw clothes into a suitcase and ignore your mother giving you sympathetic looks from the doorway. Leaving your actual life behind though? That part sucked. You practically mourned your bed before walking out the front door.
The drive felt too long.
Every mile farther from the city made you more irritated. Buildings disappeared. Stores disappeared. Signal disappeared. Eventually all that remained were endless stretches of land, fences, patches of wheat, old tractors rusting in grass, and skies so open it almost felt uncomfortable.
When your father’s truck finally pulled into the gravel driveway, you stared at the old farmhouse with immediate dread.
Same chipped paint.
Same creaky porch.
Same stupid windmill off in the distance.
You let out a long sigh while dragging your suitcase out of the car—and the heat hit immediately.
Dry. Heavy. Brutal.
Your father clapped a rough hand onto your shoulder with enough force to nearly shove you forward. “Quit sulkin’. Ain’t gonna kill ya to spend a lil’ time outside.”
Easy for him to say.
The first day passed surprisingly fast though. Maybe because your father was oddly softer after not seeing you for months. Dinner had been decent. You talked a little, laughed once or twice.
And thankfully, he didn’t force you into the fields immediately. You spent the evening sitting on the porch while cicadas screamed in the trees, pretending the entire trip might not be completely terrible.
Then morning came—violently in fact.
You woke up to your father pounding on your bedroom door at seven in the morning, and groaned.
“Up.”
You nearly choked yourself in the pillow to death.
The room was already warm from the sun leaking through the curtains. You dragged yourself out of bed looking half-dead while your father tossed clothes at you.
“Wear somethin’ light. Gonna be hot today.”
No kidding.
You reluctantly changed into shorts and a thin shirt, already annoyed by how exposed you felt. The countryside somehow made everything feel more embarrassing. Maybe because everyone stared too long here, maybe because there was nothing else to look at except each other.
You barely had time to wake up properly before your father marched you outside.
The fields stretched endlessly under the burning sun, golden and green blending together beneath the bright sky. Workers were already moving through rows of crops in the distance. You hated how alive everyone looked this early.
Then your father introduced you to him.
“Axilen!” your father called.
You turned lazily—and immediately regretted it.
The man walking toward you was huge, not just tall but built like a damn fridge.
Muscular arms strained beneath the sleeves of his worn shirt, sun-bronzed skin glistening slightly from sweat already gathered across his neck and collarbone. His jeans were dusty, boots caked with dirt, and his hands looked rough enough to split wood barehanded.
And his eyes—
His eyes landed on you and didn’t leave, not for a second.
It was immediate, and shameless—shameless in the way his gaze dragged down your body slowly before returning to your face with a grin that looked far too pleased.
“Well now,” he drawled.
His accent was thick—deep countryside. Words slow and honeyed, vowels stretching lazily off his tongue. “Ain’t ya just beautiful.”
You blinked awkwardly.
Your father didn’t seem bothered at all.
Axilen stepped closer, still staring openly. “Lord above… ain’t got a flaw on ya either.”
His eyes moved again—up, down— slow like he was savoring the sight.
You shifted uncomfortably, offering an awkward nod purely because your father stood beside you and you didn’t want to start problems immediately.
Unfortunately, that tiny reaction seemed to completely charm him.
Axilen grinned wider, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Cute too.”
You hated him already.
The work started immediately after introductions, and somehow Axilen made everything worse.
Everywhere you went—he followed.
Every row you worked on suddenly became his row too. Every basket you carried mysteriously got taken from your hands before you could finish. Every task turned into an excuse for him to hover beside you talking endlessly while you sweated yourself half to death beneath the blazing sun.
“You city folk always this delicate?” he teased while effortlessly lifting something you struggled carrying earlier.
You wiped sweat from your forehead irritably. “No. I just don’t enjoy manual labor.”
He laughed at that, adams apple bobbing, his chuckle deep and loud. “Aw, don’t worry. I’ll take care’a the hard stuff.”
You almost rolled your eyes hard enough to collapse.
And the worst part was how persistent he was—most people backed off when you acted uninterested, axilen didn’t.
If anything, it encouraged him more.
You’d ignore him and he’d simply move closer. You’d answer with one-word replies and he’d grin like you’d flirted with him. Every dismissive look you gave him only made his expression soften into something dangerously fond.
It was irritating and weird, especially because he stared at you constantly. And it wasn't like it was subtle either.
Every time you glanced up, he was already looking like he physically could not stop himself.
You bent down to pull weeds from the soil, sweat sticking your shirt against your back while the sun roasted your skin alive. A shadow fell over you seconds later.
Of course it did.
Axilen crouched beside you easily, broad shoulders blocking some of the sunlight.
“Y’know,” he started casually, “never seen someone look so pretty workin’ in dirt before.”
You exhaled sharply.
“get lost,” you muttered.
He grinned instantly, that grin was becoming a problem.
“Careful there, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice dropping lower. “Might get the wrong message.”
You frowned up at him. “What message?”
“That yer playin’ hard t’ get.”
You stared at him flatly.
He just looked amused.
But Axilen genuinely didn’t understand why you weren’t warming up to him yet. In his mind, this was practically fate.
The second he saw you standing there beside your father, suitcase in hand and irritation written all over your face, something inside him had latched onto you instantly.
He’d grown up in this town his entire life—seen the same people, same women, same routines, nothing ever changed.
Then suddenly you arrived looking all soft and pretty and completely out of place beneath the country sun, and Axilen felt like someone had slammed a hook straight through his ribs.
He couldn’t stop looking at you, didn’t want to.
The way your face twisted whenever you got annoyed was adorable to him. The way you clearly hated the heat made him weirdly affectionate, even your attitude charmed him.
Especially your attitude.
Axilen always got pissed off when city people always looked down on countryside folk. Yet there you were in shorts that showed off your legs while glaring at him like he was a mosquito buzzing around your head, and he just bit his bottom lip to keep from groaning.
You were cute—so damn cute.
And you smelled good, not like dirt or hay or sweat, you smelled clean and sweet—wrong for this place.
Axilen liked that too.
He watched you more than he worked honestly. He watched the way you wiped sweat from your neck, watched your irritated expressions. He watched your fingers struggle with simple tasks, watched the way you sighed dramatically every five minutes.
And by lunchtime, Axilen had already decided he was gonna keep you.
Not literally, of course.
…Well, actually..
“Yer burnin’ up,” he said later when he noticed your face flushed from heat.
“No shit.”
He laughed again. “Language.”
You glared.
He loved when you glared.
Axilen stepped behind you suddenly, making you tense when his large hand brushed your shoulder lightly before tugging your hat lower over your face to shield your eyes from the sun.
"there." He murmured, and your stomach twisted in annoyance.
“Stop touching me.”
He blinked once, then smiled softly. “Can’t really help it.”
That answer made your skin crawl slightly—not because he sounded threatening, but because he sounded sincere, entirely too sincere like touching you had become instinct already.
The day dragged on endlessly.
At one point your father sent the two of you to repair fencing farther from the main fields, which really meant trapping you alone with Axilen for nearly an hour.
You nearly died internally.
Axilen, unfortunately, seemed thrilled, and the walk there was torture because he refused to stop talking.
“Told yer daddy I’d help out with ya personally.”
“Why?”
“Wanted t’ spend time with ya.”
You exhaled quietly.
He smiled at the sound.
“You always this grumpy?”
“When I’m overheating, yes.”
“Ain’t overheating. Yer just dramatic.”
You shot him a look.
He grinned immediately. “There’s that face again.”
You seriously considered shoving him into a ditch.
When you reached the fencing area, Axilen got to work quickly while you awkwardly attempted helping. Except every few minutes he’d interrupt to hover over you.
“No, no—hold it like this.”
His hands covered yours from behind, warm and huge—rough palms against your skin.
You immediately stiffened.
Axilen noticed, and his expression softened instantly.
“You nervous ‘round me?”
“No.”
“You lyin’?”
“Yes.”
That actually made him laugh hard enough to bend forward slightly.
“Cute little thing.”
You hated how often he called you cute.
Or sweetheart.
Or pretty.
Or darlin’.
Every sentence out of his mouth sounded flirtatious somehow.
Even when he was talking normally his voice carried this low lazy warmth that made everything sound way too intimate.
At some point you sat beneath a tree for shade while drinking water, completely exhausted.
Axilen watched you openly while leaning against the fence.
“You know,” he said eventually, “ain’t never seen someone lookin’ so miserable.”
“Glad I could entertain you.”
“Oh, ya do.”
You frowned slightly.
Something about his tone changed, still warm, and still playful but heavier now.
His eyes lingered on your face too long.
“You got no idea what ya do t’ me.”
You stared at him cautiously.
Axilen smiled again, but this one was quieter, softer.
It should not have looked that intense after one day.
And by evening, everybody noticed Axilen hovering around you constantly. The older workers teased him relentlessly for it.
“Boy’s gone stupid already.”
“Ain’t seen him this lovestruck ever.”
“Careful, kid. He’ll follow ya home.”
They laughed.
Axilen didn’t deny it.
That was the concerning part.
Even during dinner at your father’s house, Axilen somehow ended up there too. Apparently helping neighbors often ate together around here. Unfortunately for you, that meant enduring his attention for another two hours.
He sat across from you staring constantly.
Your father found it hilarious.
Axilen found it mesmerizing whenever you got irritated enough to snap at him.
“You gonna keep starin’ all night?”
“Probably.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Ain’t no point lyin’ ‘bout pretty things."
His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before returning upward again.
His mama always told him to persist when he wanted something—and that was exactly what he was gonna do, just now the goal is you.
hope u enjoyed this !! <33
