— pae✩

“when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light” i <3 older men

[lvely-prose]

MASTERLIST

pae. writer. marvel lover. introvert. stucky. overthinker. lover girl. cinephile. slow burn.

↳ “ men suffer from imagining too little than too much “

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[lvely-prose]

— her

“ but boy don’t go fallin in love, you can’t stay with me

all you’ll ever have is one day with me ”

pairings: andrew pope cody x rich fem! reader synopsis: it wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. until he got too attached to you. word count: 7.8k warning/content: age gap (early 20 & mid 30s), mature content, mentions of sm*rf, emotionally unavailable reader, casual relationship, semi-public sex, slight angst, drug use, mild daddy issues pae speaks ~ now playing ‘her’ by chase atlantic. just finished season one of animal kingdom and i had to write for him <3

Pope had shown up to your parents coastal mansion unannounced. He’d admit that it wasn’t his greatest idea but he had tried and failed to talk himself out of it. Things at home had gotten too loud and he needed to get out for a little while.

Leaving his car parked on the side street, he walked the rest of the way. He glimpsed the fresh trimmed lawn, the cut grass as bright as emeralds and the hedges so pristine they almost looked fake. There weren’t any gardeners working today—just like he remembered.

Sneaking into your place required knowledge of the staff’s routines and schedules. He’d catalogued every single camera placement around the mansion for situations like these.

Silently, he hopped the fence into the backyard where there was a blindspot, landing without a sound. A large fountain in the center of the yard was spewing water high into the air, crystalline and clean.

Pope knew wealth. He just didn’t know what it was like to not worry about it disappearing.

Carefully, he slipped inside the house from the back door. His dark shoes were stark against the beige marble floor, shining with a recent polish.

He glanced at the large spiral staircase, each step made of thick glass. While staying silent, he walked up them with a patient pace. There was no room for urgency when he knew you were only feet away from him now.

Down the hall, your door was open already, making things easier for him.

At the sight of you, looking so effortlessly beautiful as you stood in front of the floor length mirror, Pope stopped dead in his tracks.

He didn’t announce his presence. He’d always had that quiet intensity about him where his eyes said more than his words ever did.

Pope stood in the doorway, staring at your back like it’d be the last time.

Designer bags were scattered across the floor. Most of them were from Chanel, Christian Dior, or Prada. Just the bags looked like they were costly, making Pope think that the products inside must be the most elegant pieces ever. There were a few Victoria’s Secret bags alongside the others, striped pink and matching the girly, feminine decor of your room.

But no matter how glamorous they seemed, you were the main attraction.

His eyes followed your every move as you moved around in front of the mirror, gently pulling and tugging at the new slip dress you had on. The ballerina pink silk hugged your curves like a second skin, bunching in the right places. Even from a distance he could see the delicate flower design embossed on the fabric.

This was a rare sight. It had a sort of domesticity that Pope never thought he’d get to witness.

Your hair was pinned up in a pearl encrusted claw clip, showing off the dip of your shoulders and the length of your neck. He involuntarily licked his lips, knowing the taste of your skin there.

Just when he thought you hadn’t noticed him, you broke the silence.

“You’re staring.” Your voice drifted over to him like waves of light, eyes still locked on your reflection.

Pope didn’t react to being caught. Instead, he crossed the threshold and shut the door politely behind him before turning back towards you.

“You left your door open,” he said monotonously.

You glanced at him now that he was in the mirrors view, biting your lip in attempt to smother your grin.

He knew what that meant—you’d done it on purpose.

A part of him knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Getting tangled up with you had been both his best and worst decision. He’d ran into you on a job for his matriarch of a mother. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to. Robbing luxury stores wasn’t nearly as thrilling as some of the other jobs he’d been working.

But who was he to complain when it’d brought him to you?

One second he was staring you down through a ski mask and then the next you had pressed a stack of bills into his chest—one with your number on it.

He shouldn’t have called it. If Smurf knew he reached out to the person he was robbing, she would’ve been very disappointed in him.

Yet, he did it anyway.

And right now was one of the few times he didn’t regret it.

“Hm, guess I did.” You turned around, eyes landing fully on him—brunette curls, black button down, jeans. So simple and yet so hot.

Pope barely shifted in his spot as you sauntered over to him, lethal grace in your stride. Admittedly, he was intimidated by you. You were a woman who knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and how to get it. If you wanted it, you got it.

And you wanted him.

He tensed up a little as your arms slid around his neck, bracing his hands on your waist. “Your parents not home?”

His warm, brown eyes never left yours even with your faces so close, feeling his breath fan across your glossy lips that pulled up in that grin you’d been fighting.

“Uh-uh.” You briefly glanced at his lips, noting how they were already parted in anticipation. “Momma’s at work and my daddy’s been gone for months now, so…”

Pope knew better than to question it, knowing that your father walked out on you and your mother a while ago.

You leaned forward, face so close you could count his eyelashes. “‘S just you and me for a few hours.”

Whatever words he was going to say got trapped in his throat as your soft, plump lips captured his. Instantly his eyes slammed shut, stubby fingers gripping your waist tighter.

On the drive here, Pope told himself he wasn’t going to go down this road with you again.

For the past few weeks he kept his visits to a minimum. When he did show up, he kept them short and sweet. It was the only way to ensure he didn’t fall harder than he already had.

Your freshly manicured nails—pale pink glitter gel—slid into his curls. Pope was a sucker for the feeling of your nails scratching against his scalp. Despite not wanting anyone to know his weaknesses, he’d made the mistake of letting you find them. His mind short circuited when your tongue pushed into his mouth, pulling a groan from deep within his throat.

Every sense he had was being overwhelmed by you. Vanilla perfume clogged his nose, tasting it off your lipgloss, listening to your heavy breathing, feeling the impossibly soft silk of your slip.

He was so screwed.

And he stayed anyway.

Momentarily you pulled back, mumbling against his lips while your slender fingers worked the buttons of his shirt. “D’you like it?”

Through his fogged up mind, he was confused as to what you were talking about. That was until he realized the death grip he had on your dress.

Reluctantly, Pope eased up on his grip just enough to keep it from being overbearing. “Yeah,” he rasped out. “You look… wow…”

You smiled, his loss of words of your beauty tugging at something deep down. To save him the embarrassment, you kissed him harder as your hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

“We can do whatever you want,” you muttered.

When the cold air hit his heated skin, it was like a switch was flipped inside of him.

Pope’s rough hands dug in harder before your feet left the floor and he was practically throwing you onto your pristine white bed.

You hardly had time to react when he was already climbing on top of you, fingers pressing hard into your thighs as he yanked you down beneath him.

Taken aback by his sudden dominance, your hands flew to his back as he left harsh kisses down your neck. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest as he sucked hard, no doubt leaving a bruise behind.

Truthfully, Pope hadn’t come here for this. He’d come for comfort, for someone to hold him and tell him he wasn’t insane. To make the most of the short amount of time you gave him to be with you.

But now he was taking advantage of that time. Using it to drown his thoughts in the softness of your body and the sounds he pulled from you.

His breathing was heavy as he worked down over your collarbone and then over the silk covering your chest. “Chanel?” He asked raggedly.

Your fingers tangled in his hair again. “Christian Dior.”

Both those words held a weight that Pope didn’t want to think about.

There was a voice telling him this isn’t enough this isn’t enough this isn’t enough over and over again.

A grunt escaped his lips as his hands slid up your thighs and he gave them a firm squeeze. But then he heard it doesn’t matter.

His mouth crushed against yours. This is pointless.

As much as he didn’t want to believe it, he knew it was true. This was just a distraction for you, nothing more and nothing less. The bags on the floor, the silk under his hands, the way you moaned for him, it was all coming from a place of pain. Not yearning or love.

Reluctantly, Pope placed his hands on either side of your head, putting a sliver of more space between you two.

A frown tugged at your lips at his distance. There was a shift in the air. Something slightly cold, distant.

Sitting up on your elbows, you searched his face for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

Pope wanted to tell you. He truly did. But that was a difficult task. Not because he couldn’t but because he didn’t know how to put it into words.

He remained silent but not absent.

Carefully, his fingers grazed over the gold locket resting on your collarbones. Engraved on the surface read daddy’s lil’ monster.

For a long time Pope wondered what was inside. What person in there was so special that you kept them so close to your heart. He assumed it was your father, considering the words and how he knew that just because the man was gone, you still pretended like he would come back for you.

Your brows furrowed at his hesitation. “What’s wrong?” Your fingers skimmed over his cheek. “Do you not want to fuck me?”

His eyes snapped back to yours, attention breaking away from the necklace. Again, he was quiet for a long moment before he shook his head. “Of course I want to—”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” You pressed, rubbing your thigh against his like that would change his mind.

“Princess,” he said gruffly, brushing your hair back calmly. “I just wanted to ask you how your day was. You know, what you got in those bags.” He watched the way your eyes softened around the edges.

“My bags?”

“Yeah,” he leaned down and kissed your forehead—almost too gentle for whatever this arrangement was. “Show me all the pretty things you got.”

You hesitated before smiling wide. “Okay.”

Pope sat up against your frilly pillows, shirt still off, watching intently as you changed into each designer piece. Occasionally he provided some commentary, simple compliments. It was fascinating how you seemed to know the exact fabric and where it came from. You were high fashion, he knew that, and it was more captivating than he let on.

If only you loved him the way you loved material items.

“You’re driving really fast.”

Pope barely glanced at you, sitting in the passenger side seat of his truck with your expensive sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose and a handbag that probably costed more than an average salary.

His knuckles were nearly white around the steering wheel. This was one of the days where he got to take you out and spoil you, although sometimes it was the other way around. But earlier, before he’d left the Cody house, one of his brothers had said something to piss him off.

Baz had been home, sitting at the kitchen counter. Despite doing his best to ignore him, Pope fell for his brothers words.

“She’s just using you for the sex.” Baz had said, looking up from his phone.

Pope froze by the refrigerator door.

“Rich girl like that? They don’t need a man who makes less than her. I’d just give up now, man. Ain’t worth your time.”

Without looking at him, Pope said, “You don’t know her.”

“I know enough.”

But as Pope stood there, he wondered if Baz would be saying that if he knew how deep his feelings for you ran. Lately, the line between casual and personal affection was starting to blur. His heart beat faster when he was around you now and he was growing attached. It was almost to the point where he was checking his phone every second for your text, he only dreamt of you, and he wanted to follow you around like a lost puppy just in case you needed him and he could be right there.

There wasn’t a moment when he didn’t want to be around you. All he wanted was to be at your side, to know he could protect you and keep you safe.

And deep down, it stung to know there was some truth to Baz’s statement.

“Mall’s packed today,” Pope answered you. “Want to beat the crowd.”

He was right.

The mall was bustling with people trying to beat the summer heat, moving in and out of shops with bags lining up their arms. Thankfully you knew you didn’t have to worry about your arms getting sore when you had a strong man next to you who was more than willing to carry them for you.

His fingers gripped your hand tightly, keeping you right by him so he wouldn’t lose you. His hold was almost possessive, like he’d rather die than let go.

You didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t make it a habit.

Your first stop was at Victoria’s Secret. The pink walls nearly blinded Pope as he followed you to the pretty lingerie lined along the wall, glittering chandeliers providing flattering light. His eyes kept snagging on some of the pieces, completely ignoring the looks he was receiving. Even though he thought girls coming in here with their boyfriends was a normal thing.

If only he was really your boyfriend and not whatever this was.

You dropped his hand as you started to go through some of the lacy panties, picking out a few pairs and holding them up for him to see.

Pope watched you closely, eyeing each one before giving the nod of approval you were searching for.

At the register, when he saw you handing the cashier your card, he quickly replaced it with the cash he’d gotten off his recent job. Jealousy flickered through the woman’s eyes behind the counter as he paid for you without a word.

It set something alight within you.

Not knowing how to show it, you just kissed his cheek and murmured, “thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Pope replied, grabbing the bag and sliding his hand over your waist as he guided you out of the store.

Chanel was next.

The lavish interior made Pope feel like a bull in a china shop. He stayed close by you as you tested out some of the limited edition perfumes. He listened closely as you sweet talked the associate, giving your best smile in attempt at being kind.

But he didn’t miss the way you slowly moved towards the back of the store, pulling him along with you.

You glanced around before pushing open the door to the back room, an employees only sign not stopping you from getting him alone for a moment.

Before he knew it, his back was against the wall and you were all over him.

A groan ripped from his throat as you sucked his tongue into your mouth, his fingers clutching your hips through your lilac skirt. The bag dropped to the floor, forgotten.

Grinning against his lips, you slid your hands under his shirt and dragged your nails over the muscle there. “You spoiling me today?”

Though his chest was heaving now, he managed to keep his voice steady. “That an issue?”

Unwillingly, Baz’s earlier words surfaced through his head. Ain’t worth your time. But Pope now heavily disagreed with that. This, you about to take a risk with him in this room, made everything seem worth it. The fear of getting caught, the thrill of being with a pretty little thing like you.

Pope told himself he could live with this. That the adrenaline in his veins when you tugged at his belt was what made this worth it.

“Not at all.” You smiled, kissing down his neck. His belt came out easily, letting it clink to the floor like it was an inconvenience.

It wasn’t long before he had you hoisted up, smooth legs wrapped around him as he pressed you back into the wall. His lips attacked yours, silencing every one of your sighs and whimpers. Neither of you cared about the risk of someone walking in. Not when his hands were hiking your skirt over your hips and he was yanking your lavender colored panties to the side.

His fingers brushed against your cheek. “Be quiet f’me. Do you think you can do that?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, daddy.”

Then, your hands were in his hair, jaw slack, his pants around his ankles as he sank into you.

Keeping his mouth off of yours was impossible. You were the least silent person he knew, your agreement nothing, and with every trembling noise that escaped you made him pound into your tight heat harder. That way, the only way he could keep you silent was with his tongue shoved into your mouth.

Right now, with his muscles burning and his mind focused on you, Pope didn’t question what he was doing—taking his girl in some back room of Chanel.

There was no talking involved. Just skin against skin and your muffled moans and cries.

“Come with me,” he grunted into your mouth, his hips pistoning even faster to get you to reach that sweet release.

Your climax hit hard when his did, his lips silencing any scream that crawled up your throat. But before the mess you made could incriminate you, he pulled out quickly and got down to clean it with his tongue.

Your legs shook as he set you on your feet, feeling how he worked effortlessly to lap up the evidence.

Then, once the stickiness was gone, Pope tugged your panties and skirt back into place before fixing his jeans, looping his belt back around his hips.

He gave you one last deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips before he grabbed the Victoria’s Secret bag. “Imma get you that perfume.”

You were quick to follow him out of the room, dabbing at your lips to make sure your lipstick wasn’t smudged. “You don’t have to, Pope.”

“I want to.” He answered, surveying the store as the two of you walked out like he hadn’t just made you see stars.

“Pope,” you whined, following his brisk walk towards the perfume shelf.

He didn’t acknowledge it, just waving down the woman from earlier to assist with unlocking the expensive perfume bottle.

It was moments like these when the guilt caught up to you. Watching Pope carry your bags all the way from the mall to his truck then up to your room. Every designer brand name a reminder of all the money he spent on you when you could’ve easily bought it yourself.

Even while knowing how he got the money for it, he put in the effort for it. It was what he knew and you didn’t blame him for that.

But it was a reminder of what you were putting him through.

You couldn’t be there for him. Not in the way you knew he wanted—the way he needed you to be.

And yet, it went both ways, didn’t it?

Drowning yourself in retail therapy was easier than accepting your best friend wasn’t coming back. The man who’d raised you, who’d shown you love while your mom worked hard for the family.

Then one day he was gone and all you had left was the locket and the false hope he’d come back for you.

Pope, on the other hand, was almost nearly more reserved than you were. He was quiet, observant when you didn’t want him to be. Almost like he was trying to see through you and to who you were beneath layers of high end clothing and expensive beauty products.

That? That terrified you beyond words.

So, once he set the bags down in your room, you sat at the end of your bed and gently touched your locket. “My mom will be home soon.”

Pope didn’t look at you right away. Just paused by your nightstand, fingers brushing against the lampshade draped in lace.

“Short work trip.” His voice returned to his usual monotonous lull, a sign of those walls coming back up.

You couldn’t blame him.

You’d never taken yours down.

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your hands. “I meant to tell you earlier and then time got away from me.”

He gave a hum, facing you with a blank expression. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows knit together. “Do what?”

“That.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at you.

Despite wanting to play dumb, you knew exactly what he was talking about—your distance, the way you always drove a wedge between you and him when things got too complicated.

Too real.

Playing it off, you began to take out your golden hoop earrings. “Look, I just really didn’t have time to tell you earlier. We were shopping and then we went into that room and time just… slipped away.”

You knew the scoff that escaped him was purely instinctual.

But now you were starting to get annoyed.

He knew what this was going into this agreement with you. No feelings, no ties. No falling in love.

Yet, deep down, you were so scared he’d already fallen into that territory. He’d overstayed his welcome and you wanted him out before you could dwell on your unwanted feelings for him.

You padded over to your dresser, putting the hoops on a heart shaped tray.

Pope tracked your movements, his jaw clenching.

“You should leave before—”

“I know.” He replied but not before he came up behind you.

He was going to leave. To respect the canyon you desperately tried to keep between the two of you. But he wanted you to know that he would stay if you’d let him.

A shuddering breath passed through you as he pressed his chest to your back, inhaling the scent of you deeply. His nose was close to your neck, hands hovering at your waist.

He desperately memorized the sweet smell of vanilla and something uniquely you. It was the only piece he had of you when he was by himself, alone and craving your attention.

Then, it went cold.

You stood still, listening as his footsteps retreated into the hallway. Once he was gone, you braced your hands on the dresser with a shaky exhale.

Somewhere deep down you knew that you were toeing a line of disappointment and something that terrified you.

Staying far away from Pope was the logical decision in your mind. Seeing him every few weeks was fine, just one day every so often to feel something other than hollow.

However, it was easier to see him and kick him out than let him stay.

You ran a hand over your face, shaking your head. “What am I doing?” You mumbled to yourself, wishing so badly that you could be there for him.

But you couldn’t.

So you stopped reaching out completely.

Pope hadn’t seen you in months. You went to being a near constant in his life to being nothing but radio silence. He tried reaching out a few times, being discreet about asking for a hook up or a mall trip.

That was it.

No emotions involved, no strings attached.

Just willing to give you what you had established all that time ago.

After spring passed, Pope had almost given up. He wasn’t sure why he was still fighting for a connection with you and trying so hard to keep you in his life.

To put it simply, he felt like he was going insane.

His brothers teased him relentlessly about him being so hung up over a woman who used him as a ‘sugar daddy,’ as they called it. It got to the point where Pope started to get aggressive about defending you. He didn’t care what they thought of him but he hated them thinking you were just using him.

Unfortunately, Pope started to question it.

He knew how you kept your emotions hidden from everyone. You only let yourself feel when you were spending money or when he was inside of you. Other than that, you were completely unavailable.

That was just something he had to live with.

Even though he was too deep in his feelings for you that he couldn’t escape them.

All three of his brothers noticed. So did Smurf. They noticed how much he checked his phone, how he was so much more tired than usual, how he stayed clear of other woman they tried to get him with.

Now, at this party he didn’t want to be at, he didn’t expect to see you there.

Pope was standing in the corner of the yard, a beer bottle sweating in his hand. People splashed around in the lit up pool, some just stood around and talked, others were snorting lines off each other. Salty air was now contaminated by the smell of weed and alcohol.

He could’ve left. But then he would’ve missed you.

His steady gaze immediately latched onto you as you slipped out the back door. You weren’t smiling or talking with anyone. Just minding your own business with a red solo cup in your manicured hand.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful than when he last saw you.

You’d gotten a haircut—not much but enough for someone as observant as Pope to notice. His eyes swept over your figure, watching the way your white mini dress with black straps tied at your shoulders moved fluidly with your body.

He’d bought you that dress.

It was vivid inside his mind—that dressing room, his hand sliding over the fabric to smooth it out. The fabric dipped at your chest, exposing the locket still resting on your collarbones.

Well, apparently some things didn’t change.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, his heady gaze followed you as you headed towards a group of girls—presumably your friends.

Pope didn’t know. How could he? You never let him in on your personal life, even something as simple as who you hung around with when he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t sure why you were there. Last time he checked, he didn’t remember parties at the Cody residence being open invitation.

Quickly finishing his beer, he went to find Craig. Maybe he’d know why you showed up after months without speaking to him. Pope found his long haired brother sitting on one of the lounge chairs, a girl in a skimpy bikini next to him doing a bump.

When Craig looked up, Pope grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

“What—”

“What’s she doing here?”

Craig blinked, his coke-addled mind not catching up. “Who are you talking about?”

Pope lowered his head, voice low. “You know who.”

“No, man, I don’t.” Craig sniffed, wiping the back of his hand across his nose.

His cluelessness was testing Pope’s patience. He turned around, finding you now laughing with some guy. Something sharp ripped through his heart. He knew he had nothing to be mad about—you were never anything serious. And yet, he hated that he wasn’t the one making you smile.

“Ohh,” Craig dragged out, finally understanding what his older brother was talking about. “Her.”

“Yes. Her.”

Craig nodded. “Ran into her few weeks ago. She asked me something about a molly supply. Told her she could find some here.”

Instantly, Pope’s fingers curled into fists. During the time he was with you, he’d known you took drugs on occasion. Since he’d grown up around it, it didn’t bother him much.

However, he didn’t support it. He’d rather watch you buy an entire Prada store than ruin yourself in a more permanent way.

He burned holes into the side of Craig’s head.

Before he could say anything, Craig turned towards him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know she’d actually show up. I never took her for the druggie type.”

“Well you should’ve thought about that before inviting her.” Pope snapped, a newfound frustration filling his veins.

“Pope, she’s a good buyer,” Craig threw back. “She’s on time with her payments and pays well.”

Pope leaned closer, heat flaring in his expression. “I. Don’t. Care. You’re gonna ruin her with that shit.”

That pulled a scoff from Craig as he stepped back, shaking his head. “She’s ruining herself, man. No one’s responsible for that except her.”

A muscle in Pope’s jaw ticked, watching his brother walk away. He was right though, that was the worst part. You were drowning yourself in things that didn’t matter—money, clothes, sex, and now drugs.

It hurt to watch it happen. Even worse knowing he’d played a part in most of it.

He scanned the backyard, listening to girls yelling as they got pushed into the pool, the bass of the music, loud laughter.

But he couldn’t see you anymore.

Pope knew he wouldn’t be able to miss you. You were always the most put together person in the room, the prettiest. You knew it, too. And you used it to your advantage.

Before he could decide against it, he started to push through the crowd. While he knew it wasn’t his position to make decisions for you, he needed to make sure you were safe. That no one was taking advantage of your soon-to-be inebriated state.

Surprisingly, the house was relatively empty. Everyone was crowded outback, leaving the house quiet.

Stopping in the kitchen, he listened for any sounds that weren’t coming from outside the glass doors.

For a moment there was nothing.

Until he heard a giggle come from one of the bedrooms—unmistakably you.

He was well acquainted with that light and airy noise. On those nights when it was just the two of you, he’d touch you just so he could draw those little giggles out of you, watching you squirm beneath him.

That frustration hit him again knowing that he wasn’t the one earning it from you now. That some other crack head got to listen to it instead.

Without much thought his feet carried him to the door.

Pope was a strategic man. He was disciplined, logical. There weren’t many times when he just let things slide into place, calculating every little detail before it happened. His brain was programmed that way—always had been.

Except for now.

His emotions led him to burst into the room without any warning, preparing himself for whatever was on the other side.

Instantly your giggles faded, the deep voice accompanying them dying down.

Pope stood in the doorway, staring at the scene—a guy with a mustache lying on the bed, you beside him with a rolled up dollar bill held by your nose. On his stomach was a thin white line. It could’ve a number of things but all of them equally as bad.

His eyes met yours.

In the depths of your irises, he saw a mix of anger and annoyance. Your pupils were like saucers but Pope couldn’t tell if it was because of the dim lighting or if you were already high.

Angrily, you tossed the bill at the guy and stood up in a haste.

There was no time to react when your hands found his chest, shoving him back before you stormed out of the room.

Still stunned from your sudden aggression, Pope didn’t move. Just glanced at your retreating form and back at the lanky guy lying down.

He brought a joint to his lips, inhaling lazily and blowing out the smoke. “Great going, dude. Can’t imagine what you must’ve done.”

Pope had never been more confused in his life. What did he do? All he’d done was try to spend time with you and then he gave you space when he realized you didn’t want his company anymore.

That was respectful, right?

But the guys words also struck a taut nerve inside of him. He had no idea what your relationship was like and he never would.

Deciding you were more important, Pope left the man and his drugs, briskly walking in the direction you’d gone.

He found you in the garage, back towards him with your arms crossed. You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just stood there like you were bracing for something.

Pope stopped short. He didn’t want to crowd you or make you run away again. He just wanted to talk.

But before he could, you spoke up.

“What’s your problem?”

The question hit him square in the chest. For a second he felt winded, at loss for an answer. One he knew he couldn’t give because he truly had no idea what he’d done wrong.

His eyes narrowed in that menacing way. “My problem?”

Finally, you whipped around, piercing him with a wild look. “Yes. Your problem. Sending your brother to invite me to this party? To get me to talk with you?”

At that, Pope could do nothing but blink at you.

He took a small step closer, his voice dropping to that raspy, dark tone. “You really think I’m that desperate, huh? That I’d need to send my brother to bring you back to me?”

Your scoff felt like a gut punch. “I guess so since you couldn’t do it yourself.”

Pope ground his teeth together, that muscle in his jaw ticking. “I texted you. I called. But you wanted space and I gave it to you.”

Glancing off to the side to gather your thoughts, Pope couldn’t wait to hear what you had to say after all these months of wondering.

“Don’t you get it?” You said, exasperated, looking back at him with glassy eyes—tears, not drugs. “I told you. I warned you that first night we were together. I told you not to fall in love with me because I wouldn’t stay!”

Not having expected you to raise your voice, he felt a sting in his chest. He was used to be yelled at, used to being scolded but this felt different.

This wasn’t something he’d screwed up physically. It wasn’t a job gone sideways, wasn’t a robbery he could do time for.

This was the betrayal of his own feelings.

But to him? It meant something.

Slowly, he inched closer. “No,” he breathed out lowly. “I don’t think you get it.”

Your brows raised. “Oh really?”

“I was always there for you,” he said, voice deep and full of conviction. “Whether you liked it or not, you ran to me when things got hard.”

The air between you was heavy, settling over the garage like a weighted blanket. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared at him. All the argument died on your tongue.

Pope got close enough to feel your chest brushing against his, feeling your quick, shallow breaths. You had to tip your head up just a little bit to keep eye contact, knowing he’d force you to otherwise.

“I made the pain better. You don’t have to say it.” He shook his head, his fingers ghosting your forearm. Even that slight of touch made your breath catch.

His head dipped down, lips hovering a hairs breadth over yours. “Let me be there for you again.”

Your eyes went to his lips, avoiding his gaze. The temptation was there. To kiss him and pretend like none of this happened.

Your heart was racing but it wasn’t because of him—it was because you were scared.

Scared that this would become something more. Scared it’d turn into everything you had been running from.

Signals were firing through your brain at rapid speed. Part of you wanted to drag him into the backseat of your Porsche while the other part wanted to shove him away and never see him again.

That thought pulled on your heartstrings.

Never seeing him again felt wrong. You’d be tossing him out like a dog, kicking him to the curb even after everything he’d done for you.

A million conflicting feelings had your head spinning.

You gripped his shoulders, pressing your forehead hard against his. Pope’s hands found your waist with tension filled fingers, clearly trying to respect your boundaries by not pulling you closer.

“I…” you closed your eyes, unable to keep looking at any part of him.

“What?” He rasped out, nearly desperate as his forehead pressed back. “Tell me. Tell me I’m not crazy for this. For wanting you.”

You shook your head, fighting back everything you wanted to say.

Forcing yourself away from him was all you could do.

Pope let you step back, feeling his eyes as they followed you.

You stared at him, a barbed wire wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight. “How… how do I know you won’t leave me like he did? That you won’t abandon me and leave me behind?”

Usually, his facial expressions never changed. If they did, they were very subtle. You saw the way his brows furrowed slightly, like he was shocked that you could even think of him leaving you.

He was choosing his words wisely. You knew it in how long the silence stretched, how he read the hurt and fear written on your pretty face.

“I’m right here,” Pope finally said, palms opening by his sides. “You stayed quiet for months and I’m still here. I waited for you. And I came back.”

That struck you straight in your heart.

You clutched at your chest, bottom lip pulled between your teeth to keep from showing how much his words affected you.

His head tilted slightly, eyes heavy lidded as he looked at you through his lashes. “Please.”

It was one word.

One word that shattered you.

Your hand dropped, your body nearly crumbling to the hard ground before his strong arms wrapped around you.

After months without him, it felt so good to be held by him again.

His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head to his chest. Your fingers curled into his shirt. It made you forget how much you’d missed the warmth of him, his solid frame that you’d mapped times before.

Under your cheek his heart beat steadily, a strong thump thump thump beneath your ear.

Time passed slowly as he held you before eventually he pulled back enough to cup your face. His thumb carefully dragged under your eye, the warmth of his brown eyes holding you in like a forest you could get lost in.

“You gonna let me stay?” He whispered, searching for an answer in your shining irises.

Already anticipating the question, you nodded slowly. “Mhm.”

“Good.”

He leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath fanning over your lips and the fluttering of your eyes gave him permission.

They connected slowly. Pope released a sigh into your mouth before they sealed together, his hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious woman on earth—because to him, you were.

Your lips moved against his at a leisure pace, eyes shut as he kissed you as if he had all the time left to spare. Tilting your head a little bit and parting your lips, his tongue licked into your mouth so slowly to taste everything he’d been missing.

The world narrowed down to this. Just you and him, your mouths moving in sync in the privacy of the Cody family garage.

After a little while longer of making out, you pulled back to catch your breath. “My car,” you breathed against his wet lips.

Usually, he’d go immediately.

This time he shook his head, tugging you flush against his body. “Nah. I’ve got a better idea.”

The cutesy confines of your room were now an oasis of white walls and feminine decorations that encapsulated every moan that fell from your kiss-swollen lips.

Pope was underneath you, gazing up at you with wide eyes and a parted mouth.

When you two arrived at the mansion, you wasted no time in undressing each other. Pope had taken his time, unwrapping you as if you were a present meant only for him to open. His hands worked with careful precision when he’d slid the dress down your body. Then he’d gotten on the ground as he dragged your panties off by his teeth, all the while listening to you pant above him.

There was no rushing like there had been before.

Just slow hands as you unbuttoned his shirt and slid his belt from his jeans. You kept your eyes on him the entire time, knowing the struggle he had with physical touch and gently guided the rough material down his legs along with his boxers.

Once both of your bare bodies were on display, you spent a lot of time just kissing, warming up to such an untouched part of intimacy. One that was full of loving touches and taking the time to appreciate the other.

At first, when your back hit the mattress, he liked it. But then he realized how much more he loved it when he could see all of you.

Now here you were, seated in his lap, stuffed full of him.

He was captivated by you.

Your head was thrown back, your pretty fingers digging into his chest as you rode him slowly and deeply. There had never been another moment when you’d felt pleasure quite like this.

It wasn’t mindless. You were learning how to be connected to him, not just physically but emotionally. Every part of you was tuned to him and every bit of him tuned to you.

Pope sat up, arms banding around your waist as his head dipped into your neck. His lips latched onto your throat, leaving wet kisses behind.

He could feel your breasts rubbing against his chest, your locket bouncing with every lift and drop of your hips. He grunted into your skin, his fingers closing on your hips.

“Feels so good, Andrew,” you whimpered, tilting your head down to look at him, face wrecked with pleasure.

A shiver shot up his spine at the use of his real name.

“Yeah?” He breathed out against your lips.

“Uh huh.” You moaned, knees pressing harder into the mattress as you swirled your hips. “Don’t stop. Never stop. I need you. I lo—”

At your near slip up, Pope felt his world go completely silent. He’d accepted that he was in love with you a while back but to hear it come from you when you were so emotionally not there made him feel like he could have you forever.

“Love you,” he finished your sentence. “I love you. There. Now you don’t have to say it.”

His lips captured yours, stealing a moan out of you as his hand went down to rub loving circles against the swollen bud above where you were connected.

The combination of him stretching you out with every bounce, his lips on yours, his thumb pressing against your sensitive pearl, and his love confession brought you to tears.

“There you go, pretty girl,” Pope said through a grunt. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. ‘M not going anywhere.”

A strangled whine ripped through you, your back arching and your hips stuttering from how close you were. “Andrew…”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss on your lips. “Just let go. ‘M right there with you—ahh—’ve got you. C’mon.”

Your release hit hard as his encouragement took you over. You writhed, his arms keeping you from getting away as he followed right after, holding your hips down as his release flooded inside of you, a guttural groan tearing out of his throat.

Only seconds after did you collapse against him.

Pope never let go. Just held you close despite your sticky, sweaty bodies and the ruined sheets underneath you. His hand soothingly passed over your hair, letting the both of you cool down.

“Such a good girl.” He murmured against your temple before pressing a lengthy kiss there. “Did so good f’me.”

You smiled a little before sitting back, feeling him twitch from where he was still buried inside of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Pope said softly.

“Yeah.”

He ran you a bubble bath that was bubblegum scented. As much as he refused, you ended up getting him to join you.

Afterwards, you dried off and slathered your skin in lotion before pulling on light colored panties and some tiny light pink silk sleep shorts and a matching top with a lace hem.

Pope pulled on the sweatpants he’d left last time he was there, changing the sheets while you did your skincare.

But once the fresh sheets were tucked over the mattress, he set you back on top of him.

You giggled, settling your hands on his shoulders, running them down to his freckled arms.

For a while neither of you said anything until his fingers lifted, touching the necklace at your collarbones. Feeling brave enough, he finally asked his burning question.

“Who’s inside?”

You tapped a manicured finger against the gold heart. “You really wanna know?”

“More than anything.” He answered, kissing your shoulder.

With a smile, you clicked the locket open.

The picture inside stole his breath away.

It was a tiny version of the picture you’d taken with him a long time ago—the only photo you’d ever taken with him. His face was turned away from the camera but his brunette curls gave him away. Your head was on his chest, peering up at him with wide, bright eyes.

So simple and yet it meant so much to him.

A chuckle escaped you at the look of shock that crossed his features. “Not what you were expecting?”

He swallowed hard. “No. Not at all.”

His words made your smile soften and you cupped the back of his head, fiddling with the curls there.

“I know I didn’t show it and it’s still going to be hard for me too but I care about you, Pope. A lot,” you admitted, truth shining in your eyes. “Do you… do you think you can be patient with me?”

He was nodding before you could even finish. “Of course I can. I want to. I want this with you.”

And he meant every word.

No matter how long it took and the difficulties he’d overcome to be here with you, Pope would do it all over again. He was tired of hiding it. He would do anything if only you asked.

For her.

[lvely-prose]

— ringlets

pairings: joel miller x curly hair fem! reader synopsis: you can’t stand your curly hair. joel loves it. word count: 2.1k warnings/content: fluff, age gap (early 20s, mid 40s), reader has curly hair, joel spoils you :) pae speaks ~ as a girlie with curls that i have a love hate relationship with, i’m writing this for the other people who have the same experience <3

“Close your eyes.” You said as soon as you heard the door to the bedroom creak open on its rusty hinges.

Joel instantly paused in the doorway, watching as you ducked down, back hunched from where you sat on your vanity bench. “Why would I close my eyes?”

“Because you can’t see me like this.”

“And now just why can’t I see you like this? You seem clothed and even if you weren’t—”

“Close them!” You shouted, still trying to hide your head from him by keeping it tucked between your knees.

With a reluctant sigh, Joel closed his eyes, the lines around them drawing tight. He’d been with you long enough to have a relative idea of what this was about. It was one of two things—your makeup wasn’t finished or you were going through another hair war.

And by the way you flipped it over to hide it, he had a good feeling it was the latter.

Joel knew his girl better than he knew himself and he was very proud of that fact.

You sat up just a little bit, glancing over at him to see one of his big hands covering his eyes. For a moment you waited to see if he’d lift one of his fingers, nothing but Lana Del Rey’s voice occupying the air between you two in her high, breathy tone.

“Sweetheart, you’re awfully quiet.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Are you gonna peek?”

His lips twitched in a suppressed grin. “I will if ya take any longer.”

A huff escaped your glossy lips as you turned back to look in the vanity mirror. Reflecting back at you was your face—glassy with skin care, a frustrated furrow between your brows—and the unruly mass of your curls. They were still damp from your shower, cool against your lotioned skin. For the last ten minutes you’d been trying to twist them around your finger, working styling product through it, scrunching it with a towel then your hands.

But the more it dried, the more you grew frustrated.

While the curls were there, they were frizzy. They were more defined on top, more wavy underneath. No matter what you did, the strands just wouldn’t turn into ringlets like the top portion would.

You felt stuck.

“Fine,” you sighed, resting your elbows on the white painted wood and covering your face with your hands. “You can look.”

Joel let his hand drop, eyes opening as he found you still sitting at the vanity he built you. He’d done it from scratch—had measured out the proportions of each wood panel, cut it, sanded it, made sure each drawer was deep enough for all the makeup and skincare he bought you. The large oval mirror had a white rim, attached to the table part. It was his most beloved piece he’d ever done.

Mostly because it had brought you so much joy.

But now, you looked like you were seconds away from crying.

His wide gait brought him over to you until he was standing behind you, looking at both of your reflections in the mirror. He looked out of place in his flannel and worn jeans compared to the softness of your nightie. While sometimes it scared him, he didn’t want it any other way.

He tilted his head down so that he was staring at the top of your head.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” He asked lowly in his rough timbre as his hands landed on your shoulders.

You dramatically dropped your hands to your lap, eyeing him through the glass. “Everything.”

He raised his brows. “Everything, huh?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, exasperated. “Look at my hair, Joel! It’s not cooperating and I keep trying to work with it like you’re supposed to but it’s working against me!”

Instead of laughing, Joel moved his gaze to your curls. To him, they looked beautiful. Some ringlets were more defined than others, some strands holding a loose curl instead. He was obsessed with your hair. He loved playing with it, pulling at a strand just to watch it spring back.

Every time this happened, it hurt him a little bit. There was nothing he hated more than listening to you talk bad about yourself.

He spotted the beige bottle on the vanity. “You try that new product?”

“Yes,” you huffed, knocking the bottle over like it personally wronged you. “It did nothing but make it crunchy. The lady said that wouldn’t happen.”

“Can I feel it?”

You slumped back against him, a pout forming on your lips. “I don’t even care anymore.”

Knowing you were frustrated and annoyed, he didn’t get mad at your tone. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen you get discouraged over your curl pattern. You’d spent a lot of money on trying to find the right products and every time, they failed you.

Carefully, he pressed a curl between his fingers. It wasn’t soft like he was expecting.

It was, well… crunchy.

Since being with you, he had been taught many things about your hair type. Things like you didn’t brush it unless wet, don’t fight the curls, don’t touch it while drying. He’d quickly learned that last one in one of the first few weeks of dating you with how you had slapped his hand away.

While Joel had never really cared about his own appearance, he respected that you cared about yours.

And if it was causing you this much trouble, he would do anything he could to help.

Your bottom lip began to tremble and your eyes got glassy with the beginnings of tears. Not because you were sad. You were upset. For as long as you could remember, crying because you were frustrated had always been a part of you.

You didn’t want to and it just made you even more upset but you couldn’t help it.

It made his heart squeeze tight.

“Hey,” he said gently, carefully turning you on the bench so you’d stop staring at your hair. His joints popped and cracked as he crouched down in front of you, bringing a soothing hand to your cheek.

You sniffled, picking at a loose lace thread on the hem of your nightie.

“Hate seein’ my girl so upset over this,” he said gently. Not accusingly, just factual. “But we’ll fix it, okay? We’ll find somethin’ that works even if we have to go through a million bottles to get there.”

You shook your head slightly. “You’ve already spent so much money on that. It’s not fair. It’s not even for you.”

Joel cupped your face, making you look at the unwavering certainty in his eyes. “None’a that talk. I’m gonna spend my money on you and you’re gonna let me.”

Before you could argue, he stood back up and kissed your forehead. “For tonight I’ll help ya braid it. Will that make ya feel a bit better?”

Surprisingly, his offer actually did make you feel better. He wasn’t the best at braiding hair even though he’d braided his daughter’s all the time when she was younger. But it was the effort that he put into it that made up for it.

You gave a nod, wiping at your tears.

He pressed another kiss on the crown of your head. “Okay. Good. We’ll find somethin’, baby, I promise.”

On the weekend, Joel took you to Ulta. You held his hand the entire time, thinking about how grateful you were to have a boyfriend who cared this much about your satisfaction with your hair.

Even though, deep down, you knew it wasn’t just about your hair. He was doing this because he cared about your happiness.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure his girl was happy.

After talking with an associate and finding what was hopefully the right product, you went back home to try it out.

Joel was sitting on the bed when you got out of the shower, steam curling from the bathroom behind you. His full undivided attention turned to you, leaning forward on his elbows.

Soft music played from your phone as you lathered your body in lotion and dressed in a light pink nightie.

He was in awe. You, all soft looking and adorable, standing in your shared bedroom was a sight that made Joel feel like he was in a dream. One of dainty feminine touches that smelled of vanilla and sweet perfume decorated with soft pinks, lace, and bows.

One he hoped he’d never wake from.

After you sat at the vanity and rubbed moisturizer into your face, you grabbed the dusty rose colored bottle—the new curl product.

With a tired sigh and no expectations, you began to apply it to the wet curls.

Joel watched intently, almost like he half expected them to just bounce into place. But he knew that no matter the outcome, he’d still find you and your stubborn curls the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

When you were finished and reached for your lip moisturizer, he finally spoke.

“Well… did it work?”

You glanced over at him, coating your lips in a layer of gloss. His interest in this made your heart warm. He cared so much about you and it was obvious in every little thing he did to make sure you were loved and cared for.

It made you break out into a smile.

“It has to dry first,” you replied, standing up and going over to him.

Joel’s legs instinctively parted for you to stand between, his hands automatically finding your waist. You tilted your head down, his tipping up.

He gave a gentle squeeze. “Remember, if it doesn’t work—”

“We can always try another one,” you finished for him, brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

Some of the tension melted instantly from his shoulders at your soft touch. “I just hate seein’ you so sad. Your hair could be a tangled mess and I’d still think you’re gorgeous.”

Despite the absurdity of his words, you smiled anyway, heat rising to your cheeks. “Yeah, right. As if I’d ever let you see me like that.”

Joel just shook his head, pulling you into his lap so abruptly it made a yelp escape your mouth.

He nuzzled his face in your neck, careful to not touch your drying curls. “You’re a pain in my ass, baby girl.”

You laughed softly, holding the back of his head. “You love me.”

“Yeah. I really do.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss against your throat. “Got me wrapped ‘round your little finger, baby.”

The two of you settled in, deciding on one of Joel’s old western movies to watch while you waited for your hair to dry.

And once it did, you finally felt satisfied.

You stared in the mirror, gently touching your curls as they lay in pretty ringlets over your shoulders. They were still a little frizzy but the definition was definitely there now.

Joel instantly saw the sparkle in your eye. The way you finally seemed pleased with the result.

And in his book, he’d succeeded.

At the store, he’d drilled it into the associates head of exactly what you were looking for.

Your happiness always came before his and he’d spend thousands just to see a smile on those pretty lips of yours.

You practically jumped on top of him, making him groan before you started to attack his face in kisses. Joel barely had time to react, his hands flying to your hips to steady you.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you repeated between kisses before sealing it with a real kiss on his lips.

Joel instantly sighed into your mouth, one hand moving to cradle your jaw. He kissed you for a long moment before pulling back.

His thumb swept over your cheek. “For what, pretty girl?”

“For being so patient with me. For spending all that money on products that failed,” you listed, running your eyes all over his weathered face.

“Don’t gotta thank me.” Joel leaned forward to press a kiss on your nose. “Anything to see you smile.”

His hand slid into your curls, careful not to disturb them. They were soft, incredibly pretty and delicate. You were so precious to him, every inch of you.

“They look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said in a lower tone—his most sincere one and usually reserved only for you.

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies and you smiled, unable to resist kissing him again. “Thank you, Joel. Really. I love you so much.”

The rarest of smiles made his lips curve up, brushing a curl out of your face. “I love you more, sweet girl.”

[lvely-prose]

— if you were my little girl

“ and if you were my little girl

i’d do whatever i could do ”

pairings: shane maguire x fem! reader

synopsis: your father was a raging alcoholic, a man who did the bare minimum and slapped a “best dad of the year” award on it. for years you struggled to make peace with it, to accept that you would never have the love from a father. but when he tried to weasel his way back into your life, you found it in a man who gave you the love and attention he never did.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/content: age gap (early 20s and mid 40s), daddy issues, suggestive content, non-explicit oral (fem! receiving), implied smut, mentions of murder, mentions of cheating (not shane), reader needs constant reassurance, sex as a coping mechanism

pae speaks ~ inspired by the song ‘daddy issues’ by the neighborhood <3

After having yet another pointless argument with your father, you practically ran all the way to Shane’s camp. It was dark out, your only light coming from the moon and the weak flashlight on your phone. He’d probably scold you for it but you were already doing that to yourself.

Tears tracked down your cheeks. Every time you thought they’d stop they just kept coming.

Growing up with a father who cared more about his friends and going to the bar rather than helping your mother raise you had put you off from men for a long time. During your teenage years, you saw the reason your mom divorced him in the first place.

The guilt tripping was what started it.

You didn’t want to watch a movie with him? Suddenly that trip to the beach where he dragged the wagon up the sand meant nothing.

You were busy with your friends for the weekend? Now that time he bought you medicine as a kid was his biggest accomplishment as a father.

From there is was all gaslighting and manipulation over slurred words and empty promises.

At seventeen you felt an emptiness. One that you wanted to be filled by being held in the arms of a man who actually cared, who actually wanted to treat you like someone instead of a burden.

Only a few years later, now an adult, you had been on the lookout for an older man.

Then you found Shane.

He was aware you were too young. Way too young for a man like him to even think twice about. But he couldn’t shake you. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you every time you walked into the general store or when he spotted you on a nice nature walk with your mom.

And when you kissed him that night he was only supposed to be comforting you?

Well, he was gone from there.

Your quiet sniffles and the sound of dried leaves crunching under your shoes were the only giveaway to your arrival at his camp.

Shane was smirking, wondering what his baby girl was doing finding him out in the forest at such a late hour. Usually it was because you were needy, fussy over the heat or the tenderness of your body during ovulation week.

He reveled in your reliance on him. How you, a sweet little thing, could ever need a man like him.

But as soon as he saw your glassy eyes and your puffy lips, his smirk fell.

“Hey, hey,” Shane rushed out, setting his beer bottle down and standing up. He caught your shaking frame with his hands on your arms, a grounding touch. “What’s my baby cryin’ ‘bout, hmm?”

You covered your face with your hands, feeling embarrassed for coming all the way out here just to cry. “My d-dad,” you hiccuped, pressing your forehead against his chest.

This wasn’t anything new. Not to Shane. Your father was a topic that got brought up more often than not. He was one of the leading sources of your sadness, always making you cry when you got the courage to see him again. You wanted to be the kind, loving daughter who had a good relationship with her father but he made that nearly impossible.

Those strong arms wrapped around you, Shane pulling you closer as his jaw tightened. “What’d he do this time?”

Your fingers curled into his dark shirt, keeping him close. “He was drunk again. But he tried telling me he wasn’t and then started rambling about how it was my mom’s fault our family was torn apart.”

While Shane wasn’t the best at comforting people when they were hurt, he was good at getting angry at the others who did the hurting.

There wasn’t another person who hated your father more than Shane. He couldn’t stand the man. Every time your dad got brought up in a conversation, you shut down. Your happiness was stripped away because of the man who’d never shown you the love you needed.

Shane knew it. Of course he did. He’d always questioned why you were with a man like him but the emotional absence of your father was answer enough.

“Stop seeing him,” Shane said firmly.

You shook your head. “I feel bad, Shane. He doesn’t have anyone. All his friends live in another state, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he can’t keep a job. The least I can do is show up.”

There it was—the result of years of manipulation and guilt tripping.

“He’s a grown man, baby,” Shane pulled back, his entire face hard with pent up frustration from how many times this has happened. “He did this to himself.”

You dropped your arms to your sides, staring up at him with glassy eyes.

For too long now you’d heard that. Not only from your boyfriend but everyone else who knew your father. Didn’t mean you knew how to accept it.

“But Shane—”

“Stop that.” His words were harsh, pointing his finger in your face. “Stop defending that sorry excuse of a man. Do you really think he cares about his daughter? Huh?”

“Of course he does!” You fired back before digging your fingers in the camo jacket you had thrown over your nightdress. “In his own way.”

Exasperated, he scoffed with a humorless smile before his face screwed up in rage as he kicked an empty beer bottle. Once he released some of his anger, he ran a hand through his dirty hair, chest heaving.

Taking a tentative step closer, you grabbed onto his arm. “I know he’s not gonna change but… he’s still my dad.”

That was it.

Shane snapped, his fingers digging into your shoulders. “You walked miles in the dark to get away from him. Don’t you dare come to me just to defend him.”

You sniffled, flinching slightly at his tone but you knew he had a point. “I’m sorry, Shane. I just…”

His eyes searched your face before his hand came to squeeze your chin, pulling your head closer. “Just what?” His voice was still rough, angry.

“Just needed you.”

With a grunt, he let go and stepped back, shaking his head. He ran a hand over his blonde stubble, already thinking of ways to get back at your father for making his little girl so upset. He should’ve been thinking about how he could comfort you but since this was a normal occurrence, he just let you situate yourself.

You didn’t want to aggravate him more so you slowly crept around him, going to sit on the log by the fire.

Shane had his back towards you, looking like a statue with how still he was. Even though you’d been with him for a while, you never knew if the stillness would result in him calming himself down or the start of a crash out.

Tonight, you hoped it was the former.

Deciding not to trigger him, you stayed silent, fiddling with the lace hem of your nightdress to keep your hands busy.

Every time you thought those old wounds were healed over, you came to find that they had just been covered up by a thin bandaid. For a long time you didn’t want to believe it. That your own father loved getting drunk more than he loved his wife or child.

“You’re my world” he’d say or “I love my daughter more than anything.”

But his actions said otherwise.

The people in your life who knew of his behavior chalked it up to him being a good person but having his issues. You believed that. Until you didn’t. After you found out he cheated on your mother more than once, it made you sick to your stomach. It happened before their marriage and then during it as well. He made her take care of you while he was out at a bar, slinging beers and hooking up with random women.

There was no accountability either. He always tried to convince you that your mom was actually the bad guy in this situation when you already knew everything.

You knew the type of man he was—selfish, greedy, and the biggest narcissist you’d ever met.

But when you looked up at Shane through your teary eyes? You saw a man who’d actually take care of you. One who wouldn’t treat you like a chore or choose alcohol over you.

His right hand reached back towards his waistband. You saw the way his shirt came up a bit, revealing the matte finish of a 9mm pistol.

It didn’t scare you like it was supposed to. You knew he was a deer hunter, his hands knowing the way around a gun better than most. You’d seen him clean them, hold them, grip them. It made you flustered, watching him run his veiny hand over the sleek barrel.

But as you watched his fingers graze the cold metal, you realized that he only hunted with a rifle or shotgun.

The moment it dawned on you, fear gripped the back of your neck.

You’d seen those types of pistols in movies. The ones used for hunting people—not animals. Which could only mean he was considering tracking your father down and putting a silver bullet right between his eyes.

You swallowed hard, putting your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking. “Shane.”

He didn’t look at you. Instead, he pulled the gun out from his waistband and removed the empty magazine. “What is it?”

Think of something you mentally yelled. You needed to keep him distracted, get him to focus on you and not the twisted sense of anger filling his veins.

“I don’t wanna be alone right now,” you said quietly, the fire popping and crackling in the night air.

Shane slowly turned around, firelight casting dancing shadows over his weathered features. His dark shirt hugged his body in just the right way, revealing his strong biceps and the soft roundness of his belly even though you knew the ridge of his muscles there as well.

If you were anyone else to him, it might’ve been scary. And while you feared he’d do something irreversible to your father, he would never do that to you.

Being with Shane was thrilling. He braved the wilderness every day, sometimes letting you tag along but always making sure you stayed safe. Protection came easily to Shane, making sure his little girl never got hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Reluctantly, he tossed the gun into a duffel bag before moving over to you.

His large hands spanned your waist, lifting you with ease before taking your spot. Just as easily he pulled you into his lap, your back flush against his chest.

You sagged back against him, arms crossed as his locked securely around you.

There were a lot of unsaid words still hanging in the air. Why is he had his gun out, how upset you really were about your absent father, how badly you wanted Shane’s comfort.

He knew that.

He just had no idea how to show it.

His chin rested on your shoulder, bringing one of his hands up to pull your hair to the other side so your bare neck was exposed to him.

With all the gentleness he could muster, his lips pressed lightly against your fluttering pulse. The single touch made you snuggle further into his chest.

A heavy breath was released against your skin as his other hand slipped down to toy with the top of your lacy knee socks.

“Wear these for me, baby?” He rasped lowly into your ear.

“Mmm,” you hummed, brain going fuzzy with his gentle caresses—completely uncharacteristic of him.

But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

You knew he was a rough man. Everyone did. And yet, you were the only one he made an exception for.

His spiky stubble scratched your soft skin and you felt him smirk. “That’s not an answer, pretty girl. Use your words.”

An involuntary whine escaped from your mouth. “Yes, Shane. Wore them for you.”

He let out a pleased hum. “That’s what I thought. Was that so hard? To be honest with me?”

You shook your head against his shoulder. “No, sir.”

“Good girl.” Shane gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze, making your eyes flutter shut as his calloused hands caught on the smooth skin.

Being touched by Shane made everything fade to white noise. It was just you and him, surrounded by miles and miles of untamed forest and mountains that would keep this moment between you two encapsulated from any outside observer.

You listened intently to the bugs chirping, the hoot of a nearby owl, Shane’s ragged breathing and the kissing sounds as he lavished your neck.

However, after the night you had, it would take a lot more than just a few kisses to make you feel better.

“Shane?”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes opened, staring up at the starry sky, silver twinkling against the canvas of black. “You… you aren’t going to cheat on me, right? You wouldn’t… wouldn’t do that to me?”

His kisses came to a halt.

You felt the way he stiffened, his body going ridged and you almost wanted to take your questions back.

But Shane knew exactly what he was getting into when he decided to enter a relationship with a young woman like you. Especially one who had never had a good relationship with any man before since that picture had been ripped to shreds years ago.

From the very start of your relationship with him, he knew you required constant reassurance. You had to know he still wanted you, still wanted to be with you, still wanted to hold you, still loved you.

While, admittedly, he did find it slightly annoying, he gave it to you every time without complaint.

He turned you to face him, now sitting sideways on his lap. “Now, just why would I do that?”

You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him, knowing he’d manhandle you if you didn’t. “I don’t know. Just, please answer me.”

His heady gaze traced over your face, his fingers grazing against your cheek before fitting them loosely around your throat. “Oh, sweet girl, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout that. I’ve got ya now.”

The air seemed to thicken as his face got closer to yours, feeling his breath fan across your lips. “Not your father, not any of those men at the bar. I have you, okay?” He tilted your chin up slightly with his knuckle. “I know what he’s done to you—what he continues to do to you—but I’m not gonna let it happen again, alright? You’re my little girl now. Not his. Mine.”

His words struck a chord within you. One that you didn’t know existed until Shane.

A longing that had been buried by years of neglect was hit dead on just with a few words. It made your heart pump and your cheeks to turn pink.

All that time you’d spent yearning for a man to take care of you and to love you unconditionally felt like nothing now. Not when you had Shane Maguire holding you close and giving you hope that things were finally changing.

“Hey. Look at me,” he said firmly, fingers tightening only a fraction. “Look at me and tell me you understand.”

Your eyes locked on his, glassy again with how overwhelmed you felt with emotion. “I understand, Shane.”

“You better. ‘M not letting you go.”

His mouth met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips without warning. You gasped which just made him kiss you deeper, fingers digging into your throat to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

Your hands flew to his messy hair, latching on to ground yourself.

Shane kissed you like he was starving. Like he needed to prove just how much he meant what he’d said—that he was a man of his word. He knew his girl, knew that you liked gentleness and he was willing to give it to you.

Just not when he needed you to understand how serious his words were.

A lot of your life was a series of words that held no value, empty promises that were never fulfilled by the people you needed them to be fulfilled by.

As his fingers trailed up your thigh to grip the soft flesh, he knew he would be the one to break that cycle.

Your head went blank. His tongue was hot, sliding against yours almost obscenely. He didn’t stop. Not even for a second as he stood up, holding you tight like you were a feather.

Shane all but tossed you onto his sleeping bag. You yelped a little bit but it didn’t hurt. His large frame bent down as he stepped into the tent, zipping it closed behind him.

Then, he was all over you.

His lips were on your knee, pulling the sock away from your shin with his teeth before letting it snap back. All while he worked on getting your cute little shoes off, tossing them in the corner. You were laid back on your elbows, watching him closely with your kiss swollen lips parted. He always made you breathless but when you felt him trailing those wet, sloppy kisses up your leg, oxygen felt far away.

“Take it off,” he growled against your thigh but the way he was taking small pieces of skin and nipping at it was making it hard to focus on anything else.

As a whimper escaped you, his teeth sank harder into the plush muscle. “I said, take it off.”

Quickly, you unzipped the camo jacket and pushed it aside. It left you in your white nightdress—plain, simple, silky. To Shane, it was the prettiest garment he’d ever seen. His eyes traced up your body, the fabric draped over every curve and dip, outlining the softness only he got to touch, kiss, bite. You nearly looked too beautiful to touch with your glassy eyes, swollen lips, red splotches on your cheeks, and messy hair. It sent blood rushing south, his pants instantly getting tighter just from seeing you all laid out for him.

Delicately, the rough pads of his fingertips stroked over your stomach where the silky fabric lay untouched. A shuddering breath left him as he pressed harder, curling his fingers until it bunched beneath his hand.

Shane nuzzled his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply. Gosh, you smelled so good. He did it again until his senses were completely overwhelmed by you.

Your chest rose and fell quickly under his cheek, feeling so much and yet needing more.

Squirming a bit, you pressed your hands hard against his shoulders, tugging his shirt up. “Shane… please.”

His lips curved into a smirk, hearing the desperate lilt of your voice. The feeling of your small hands pulling helplessly at his shirt made him harder and he gladly removed it.

“Stay still for me, baby,” he said, strong hands sliding up your thighs before pushing your nightdress up to your waist. With a groan, his arms wrapped around either of your thighs, pulling them open more.

A ragged groan tore from his throat at the sight of your pretty little panties, a wet spot already staining the center. He couldn’t stop staring, tracing circles on your inner thighs to see it grow.

You tried writhing again, the ache making your body react without your permission.

His grip tightened automatically, bruising in its intensity. “What did I say?”

Despite your best efforts not to, another desperate whimper fell from your lips. “To… to stay still.”

“Mhm,” he hummed before leaning forward, pressing a barely-there kiss right where you wanted him. He could smell your sweetness, making it hard to resist just giving you what you wanted.

“Shane,” you whined, your hips bucking up to try and gain more friction.

“Aww, is my little girl needy tonight?” He smirked, toying with the elastic of your panties, pressing hard into your hips to keep you from wiggling. His thumb pressed down against where you were most sensitive, watching as you tossed your head back in frustration. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll take care of it.”

Finally, his teasing stopped as he finally dragged your panties down your legs and slid them off, keeping your knee socks in place.

Stars burst behind your eyes as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue making direct contact with your wet heat. You thighs went to close at the sudden friction but he quickly tossed your limbs over his shoulders to keep you from going anywhere.

“Shane, oh…” you moaned.

Shane was a dirty man and the sounds he was making of your pleasure were proof of it. You could hear the squelch of his tongue lapping up your arousal, listening to the wet sucking noise as he paid special attention to the main source.

Before you met Shane, boys were never something you really paid any mind to. You were good in school, focusing on your grades and graduating. Your first kiss happened when you were 18 at a New Year’s party your friends had dragged you to.

But that was it. He wasn’t a very good kisser so you went back to not caring.

However, as the issues with your father progressed and you became intertwined with Shane, he changed it all for you.

He awakened something inside you. Something natural, something beautiful. You bloomed out of your shell, turning towards Shane like a sunflower turns to sunlight. He touched you in ways you never could have imagined before, earning those special noises and reactions only reserved for him.

Now, as he made you come for the first time that night, everything felt irrelevant except for him.

Outside the tent came faint footsteps. You blinked awake, the tent walls not doing anything to keep the morning rays away from your slumbering state. Early signs of life filled the forest surrounding the camp—birds chirping joyously, humming bugs singing, the trees rustling in the breeze.

A yawn stretched your mouth wide before it snapped shut again as you ran a hand over your face.

Last night hung in the tent. Your jacket was in a heap, your shoes tossed in the corner, your panties carelessly draped over a lantern. Heat rose into your cheeks, feeling the deep care Shane had given to you deep in your bones.

Shifting slightly to throw the sleeping bag off of you, you winced at the very prominent ache between your thighs. Flashes of why they were sore ran through your mind—his fingertips digging in, his teeth sinking into them, his hips pushing you wide open.

Nervously, you peeled your nightdress up. You sucked in a sharp breath between your teeth as you carefully moved your legs to reveal the redness between them, the bruises on your thighs and hips.

Sometimes you forgot how mean Shane could be. Not in a way that made you feel bad, but in the way that showed you how he expressed his tough love.

Gently, you traced the bruises he left. It made a small shudder pass through you.

His eyes bore into yours, heavy breaths hitting your swollen lips as his hips relentlessly slammed into yours. “C’mon,” he grunted, fingers tightening around your throat. “You can take it. I know you can.”

The sound of the tent zipping open made you flinch, ripping your hand away and pulling your nightdress down like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Shane stepped inside. For a second you thought he hadn’t seen you admiring his work but as soon as he smirked, you knew he had.

“Lookin’ at yourself?” He questioned, sitting by your legs, bracing himself on one hand while the other landed on your calf. “Dirty girl.”

“I…” you knew there was no point in lying. “I’m sore, that’s all.”

His chapped lips stretched wide and instantly you regretted your words, stoking his ego more than you should’ve. “Good. Means I did my job right.” He leaned over you, pressing a harsh kiss on your lips.

At first, you sighed, his kiss a soothing balm to your aching body. But then you tasted something unfamiliar. Something tangy, coppery.

Your face drained of color when you realized what it was—blood.

You pulled back quickly, staring at him in horror.

Already anticipating your reaction, Shane’s grip grew tighter, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Did you really think I’d let that poor excuse of a man get away with what he did to my baby girl?”

Your heart gave a sharp kick into your ribs, panic flaring. “What did you do?”

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone. “What should’ve been done a long time ago. I made sure he won’t hurt you anymore.”

The worst possible scenarios started to spin through your head, nearly making you dizzy. You thought back to the gun, wondering if he’d found a full magazine and used it to make your father pay. It was the most extreme case but knowing Shane, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Shane could see the possibilities of what he’d done flicker over your face and he couldn’t have that.

After getting his sweet girl to cheer up after last night’s events, he didn’t want his success to be wasted by your father striking again.

“Don’t cry,” he said, seeing your bottom lip wobble and your eyes go glossy. “He’s just gonna have a hard time breathing for a little while. And when he’s fine? He’s never gonna hurt you again.”

Last night, after Shane had thoroughly pleasured you, he let you fall asleep on his chest.

But sleep never caught up to him.

He was restless, mind set on the tears he’d seen streaming down your cheeks when you stumbled into his camp when you should’ve been at home, asleep in your own bed. No matter how hard he tried to focus on how hard he’d made you come or the sounds you made when he breached your body, he couldn’t stop thinking about who had caused his little girl to be so upset.

So, before dawn could break over the Yosemite mountains, he had placed a kiss on your forehead and snuck out of the tent.

While he did consider bringing his gun, he knew all your father needed was a fierce right hook to the jaw.

Maybe then he’d get it through his thick skull that he was causing his daughter so much pain.

But once Shane felt his anger transfer from his chest to his fist, he couldn’t stop. It was one after another until your fathers face was a battered mess.

Sparing you the details, he just leaned forward until his lips touched your nose. “Do you trust me?”

Your answer came too quickly. “Yes.”

“Then believe me when I say you’re never gonna have to see him again. You have me now. Just me. Tell me you understand.”

You couldn’t argue. Despite the fact he wasn’t telling you in depth what happened, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know. Your boyfriend was a violent man and there was no use in pretending any different.

“I understand, Shane.”

“Good.” He pressed a softer kiss against your lips this time. “Just need me. I just need you. My sweet, pretty girl.”

[lvely-prose]

— summer loving

pairings: joel miller x fem! reader

synopsis: you’d known mr. miller forever. he was your fathers best friend after all. until one night you acted on your crush for him by kissing him under the fireworks. since then, your relationship remained a secret. you two were good at playing pretend—just wouldn’t stop him from loving on you.

word count: 4.7k

warnings/content: age gap (20s and 50s), fluff, dbf trope, mentions of nudity, suggestive sexual content, implied sex

pae speaks ~ happy joel miller summer! i hope you all enjoy <3 divider from @lariesographic !!

You hadn’t meant to kiss him.

Well…

Yeah, you did.

For as long as you could remember, Joel was just your father’s friend and nothing more. A very helpful friend. In high school, you struggled to get your license due to an overwhelming anxiety about car crashes and drunk drivers. So, you asked the steadiest man you knew to drive you to and from places.

Joel Miller.

You found yourself in his passenger side more often than not, feet kicked up on the dash and wind flying through your hair. He never seemed amused. Just sat there and drove without a single complaint. With how many years you’d known him, you knew he had a soft spot for you. And you teased the heck out of him about it.

It wasn’t embarrassing being seen around with Joel. He never did anything weird or anything to embarrass you. He just wanted to keep you safe. Always had.

After you graduated and left for college, you didn’t see Joel anymore. Once you secured a license, there was no need to hitch a ride with him, especially now that you were across the state getting a higher level of education.

Then summer of 23’ hit.

You had come back to your hometown for the hot season to visit with old friends and family. Your father welcomed you home with open arms, so happy to see his little girl now all grown up with a life of her own.

Then there was Joel.

You had practically leapt into his arms when he showed up in his truck—the one you were very familiar with. He had no idea what to do with himself when you came back all womanly and absolutely beautiful. Joel hated the way he thought about you since he’d never had before.

You had always been his best friend’s daughter.

End of story.

But as he held you, all those new curves and the scent of your expensive perfume wrapped around him, Joel felt his heart stir with feelings that weren’t completely friendly.

As for you? You didn’t think it could get much worse.

Not having a crush on Joel was nearly impossible. He was the classic hot neighbor next door that worked outside all day, knuckle deep in the hood of his truck with oil and grime plastered on his forearms, shirt plastered to his body with sweat. The type of sight that made mouths water and bodies grow ten times hotter on an already scorching summer day.

Your friends loved when you showed up to the functions with Joel as your personal chauffeur. They didn’t even try to hide their ogling. And every time they made comments about how you had him all to yourself, you giggled and shut the idea down.

That all changed when you saw him again.

It was supposed to be Barbie summer. The long anticipated movie was on just about every single girls mind since it’d been announced.

But instead, it was Joel Miller summer.

The entire month of June, the two of you made every and any excuse to be around each other. Driving somewhere? He let you drive the truck. The A/C not working? He let you sleep in his spare room. Nothing to do? You sat in his garage and watched him work.

Things were shifting between you two and neither of you had any plans to stop it.

The Fourth of July was just about everyone you knew‘s favorite holiday. Every house on the block had American flags flying, decorations all in red, white, and blue. Families and groups of friends lined their cars down the street, rich families hosting parties with bathing suits, barbecues, and insurmountable amounts of lemonade, hamburgers, and hot dogs.

You didn’t really celebrate as hard as the people around you did. You just liked dressing cute and handing out refreshments to the people your father invited.

But every year you only looked forward to the fire works.

Yet, it felt a whole lot different with Joel by your side.

Fireworks popped across the sky in a mosaic of bright blues and reds and pinks and golds. It turned the night sky into a massive canvas of crackling colored lights.

A glass coke bottle sweated in your hand, the rim imprinted with red lipstick. Joel was beside you with a beer but he wasn’t focused on the fireworks.

He was looking at you.

When you caught his warm gaze, you gave a smile that was only for him. Then you grabbed his hand, pulling him to the front yard where it was free of any guests.

Just you and Joel.

Both of the glasses were set aside as he tugged you under his arm. It stirred something within you. Something that felt dormant and had been waiting to spark for years. His head tilted down to look at you. That’s when your lips connected to his.

As the night sky crackled with bright colors, Joel held you closer than he ever had before. In that moment, it didn’t matter your dad was only in the backyard while his best friend kissed up on his daughter.

It changed everything.

And you loved it.

The sun was shining high in the clear blue sky as Joel pulled up to your fathers house. You were staying there for the summer. It felt like old times. Except now, he was here for you.

You were lounging on the couch, feet propped up on a small ottoman with a book in your hands. You were excited for the day and couldn’t really focus on the words, reading with your eyes but not actually retaining any information. Ever since the Fourth, you’d been giddy just about every time Joel came around. There was no label on the two of you and you didn’t feel the need for one.

When the knock came from the front door, you practically jumped off the couch, not bothering to fix the flannel hanging off your shoulder. It was one of Joel’s, too big and drowning you. You only ever wore it when your dad was at work so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

Before you could reach the door, Joel was already stepping inside. He practically lived here.

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him with a wide smile.

Joel caught you effortlessly, stumbling only a little bit on impact. “Hi there, sugar.”

“Hi,” you said, eyes roaming over his weathered face.

“Your daddy home?” He asked but could assume the answer was no since you were being all clingy.

You shook your head before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs. Joel was used to you tugging at him like there wasn’t enough hours in the day to get things done and tried to smother his smile.

Once in your room, you pulled out a gingham bikini top. You turned your back to Joel, pulling the flannel off and as much as he was disappointed to see it gone, he admired the new view just as much.

The A/C unit kicked on, cooling Joel’s hot skin if only for a minute. As a way to beat the heat, he planned on taking you swimming before back to his place for the night. Your father wouldn’t care. He knew you enjoyed Joel’s company—just not about the part where you slept in his bed.

Your fingers fiddled with the strings of your top. “Joel, can you please help me?”

Without question, his rough fingers grazed your shoulder blades as he began to tie the strings into a neat bow. He always jumped at the chance to help you. Most of the time you never even had to ask.

Before he stepped away, his large hands settled at your hips. His beard gently scraped against your bare shoulder, fingers toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

A tiny smile made your lips twitch. You had purposefully left his mouth untouched just because you knew he wouldn’t let you leave the house without a kiss. He always got touchy when you didn’t give him what he wanted and you knew it. He just wouldn’t admit it out loud, instead of showing you through his actions.

You turned around and gave his lips a small kiss.

He instantly latched onto your waist. “C’mon, that was weak.”

You gave a small laugh. “Weak? I’m just trying to keep us from being late.”

His thick fingers slipped into the band of your shorts, using his other hand to undo the button. “We have plenty of time.”

Heat crept up your neck as he slowly maneuvered your shorts down your legs. For as old as Joel was, it seemed he was willing to get you under him more often than not. And most times you’d let him.

But you weren’t sure when your father was going to be home and you were really excited to go to spend the day with him.

“Joel,” you said in a whine as he massaged your hips through your cotton panties.

“Darlin’,” he replied like he wasn’t doing anything.

“Behave.”

With a reluctant huff he pressed a kiss to your temple and reached for your bikini bottoms. “Yes, ma’am.”

After finishing dressing you like you were a doll, you slipped into some overalls, leaving one of the straps unclasped. Joel not so subtly watched as you fixed up your hair. Some days he felt like an old pervert for being so fixed on you but it was like he couldn’t help it. He was addicted to your sweetness. How you could love an older man like him and still stay true to yourself. You were a vitamin he needed to take everyday to keep himself from getting so grumpy. And it worked.

Joel started up the truck while you finished getting ready to make sure the seats weren’t sizzling. Texan heat was unbearable.

“Okay, I packed extra sunscreen and water.”

Joel looked over as you pulled yourself into the truck, slinging a crotchet bag into the middle seat. “You’re very prepared,” he stated bluntly.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to look at him with a smile. “It’s too hot out here.”

He settled a hand on your bare thigh. “You’re not wrong about that.”

On the way to the pool, Bruce Springsteen played through the speakers and you let the wind blow through your loose hair, arms folded on the frame. Joel squeezed your thigh every so often, usually when one of the lyrics reminded him of you. He never sang. But sometimes you’d catch him mouthing the words and you’d trace your thumb over the back of his knuckles.

The community pool was packed considering the weather but you managed to find two lounge chairs near the pool edge. Joel was already ticked off as you guided him through to the chairs. Little kids zoomed past his legs and he made it his mission to avoid trampling one of them. He wasn’t a fan of public spaces, especially when there were so many children with the lifeguard yelling at them to walk.

You knew he wasn’t thrilled about it and gave his hand a light squeeze. A way to say thank you for putting up with me.

Yet Joel would do it a million times over if it meant getting to see a smile on your face.

“Seems like this is the place to be.” You put down the bag, glancing around as you took your overalls off.

“Think I need to invest in installing one at the house,” Joel grumbled, peeling off his shirt and leaving him in a dark pair of swim trunks.

You grinned at him, admiring his physique in the golden rays. His belly hung slightly over the waistband and the salt and pepper dusting of hair on his chest made your heart flip. Gosh, he looked too good. Suddenly you wished he would invest in that at-home pool just so you could have the sight all to yourself.

Meanwhile, Joel was struggling not to ogle at you in that little bikini. You looked comfortable in it which was all he cared about.

He grabbed the sunscreen can.

“I can do it,” you said, reaching for the can but he quickly grabbed your arm and turned you around.

“Let me. You won’t be able to reach your back.”

You squealed slightly as the cold spray hit your heated skin. “That’s freezing!”

“Hold still,” Joel said lowly and you instantly stopped squirming.

Music played over hidden speakers, kids screamed as they splashed around, and adults chatted with each other with their feet dangling into the water. It was a lively space, bringing summer to life with colorful bathing suits and swaying trees.

After Joel sprayed your body down, you rubbed some sunscreen onto your face. He watched closely to make sure you rubbed it all the way into your skin. He was always looking out for you even when you weren’t aware of it.

You glanced over at the pool bar and gasped when you saw they were selling popsicles. Before you could rush off, Joel caught your chin between his fingers and smoothed a patch of white into your face.

“You don’t need to baby me,” you said, looking at him through your lashes but really, you weren’t complaining.

“I’m not babying you,” Joel replied, slipping you some cash. “Just taking care of my girl.”

You blushed before kissing his cheek. “Do you want a popsicle?”

“No thanks. Get what you want.”

You headed over to the pool bar and bought a cherry flavored popsicle. The taste made you sigh, the coldness feeling amazing on your tongue as it cooled you down.

You headed back over to Joel who was practically panting like a dog. You sat on the lounge chair beside him, sucking on your popsicle happily. “There’s a pool right there you know.”

Joel squinted his eyes at you, trying and failing not to stare at where the red ice disappeared into your mouth. “I ain’t goin’ in without the woman who dragged me here.”

You gave him a look before handing him a water. “At least drink this.”

He didn’t put up a fight as he cracked open the bottle and took a long drink. It felt nice going down his throat but he still couldn’t help himself from looking at you as your tongue swirled around the popsicle.

You laid back on the lounge chair, hoping to get a bit of a tan. Joel felt damn near hypnotized by you, eyes tracing every dip and curve of your body. His hand extended despite his efforts not to, settling on your shin and gently running his rough palm up and down.

Sugary red liquid dribbled down your chin, leaving a pinkish stain in its wake. Joel’s jaw clenched, shifting in his seat to try and contain himself.

Were you trying to make this impossible for him?

The sun blazed down, perspiration breaking out across his body. Forcing himself to look away, his gaze found the clear waves of the pool. It looked so refreshing that when you finally finished the popsicle and said you were ready to go in, he practically jumped at the chance.

Chills spiraled up your legs as you stepped onto the first step. The water was only at your ankles. Joel was practically already waist deep, holding out a hand for you to take to help ease you in.

“It’s so cold!” You exclaimed, holding your free hand to your chest.

“It’s only cold cause you were hot, baby. It’ll feel better once you get used to it.”

You looked at Joel and as reluctant as you were, you trusted he was right and waded in more. You sucked in a sharp breath as the water splashed against your skin.

“There you go,” Joel said lowly, coaxing you into the deep end.

You were mindful of the people around you as he slowly pulled you further into the water but now the coldness felt very refreshing. Joel didn’t care about the child splashing around to his left or the group of friends conversing to his right. He just focused on you—the water cutting around your frame and how pretty you looked under the afternoon sun.

You never let go of Joel’s hand as you made it to the deep end, your feet no longer touching the rough bottom of the pool. He was still standing though since he was taller, slipping an arm around your waist to keep you from treading the water.

As he held you there, you glanced around at all the faces. None of them seemed too familiar but when your arms wrapped around his neck, you were hit with the fact that any one of these people could be friends with your father.

What would they tell him if they saw you hanging onto his best friend?

Joel brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

You briefly glanced at him. “Just… there’s a lot of people here. What if… what if they know my dad?”

His gaze softened slightly before tightening again, the wrinkles between his brows creasing. “Sweet girl, we talked ‘bout this. If they gotta problem then I’ll handle it.”

“Joel.” His name came firmly from your mouth.

“Sweetheart.” His strong hand lifted your leg so that you wrapped them around him.

“We have to be careful,” you said as he slowly dragged you through the water. “You know that. If my—when my dad finds out, I want it to either come from me or you. Not some random person I’ve only met once.”

“I know.” Joel glanced both ways before pressing a hand against your spine. “But you don’t need to worry. They can be nosy all they want but I got you. This is about you. This is about us, okay?”

You looked at him before reluctantly nodding. “Okay.”

Joel laid a kiss to your sun-kissed nose. “Good. Now let yourself have some fun.”

As the day wore on, Joel’s shoulders were sunburnt and your hair was a tangled mess he kept trying to comb through with his fingers to no avail. You felt energized from all the sun but soon enough the heat seeped in, making you feel sleepy.

Joel noticed, already beginning to pack up your tote bag, securing everything inside.

“You ready to go?”

Squinting, you looked over at him with a nod and began to slip back into your overalls.

When you got back to his house, Joel wanted to skip dinner and take you straight to bed. But you needed a shower and you were hungry from all that swimming.

And Joel always put your needs before his, taking care of his girl always top priority.

He wanted to follow you into the bathroom but refrained, deciding on starting dinner was the best decision just to speed things up.

He loved you so much but never knew how to tell you without embarrassing himself or sounding like a complete idiot. Which was why he was grateful he worked with his hands a lot to make things for you and show you how much he loved you through touch.

By the time you were done with your shower, you were pretty sure you’d just raised Joel’s electric bill by a hefty sum of money. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to deep condition your hair to make sure all the chlorine got out.

You went to his room, which pretty much posed as both your room at this point, and began to get ready for the night. That meant lathering your skin in vanilla scented lotion, moisturizing your entire body after the full shave you just did in the shower. You did your skin care routine and then coated your lips in cherry flavored chapstick, smacking them together a few times before smiling.

You loved that Joel let you have your private time, especially in the summer when the heat made everything overstimulating.

You dried your hair off before putting on some red panties with a little bow and pairing it with his red flannel.

Tonight was supposed to be a movie night but after your teasing all day, you felt he deserved some relief.

Finally, you padded into the kitchen where Joel was at the stove, cooking up dinner with all the concentration of a drill sergeant.

You came up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

Joel was dumb for looking over his shoulder because now he was afraid he’d never get the food done. Every time you wore his clothes it was like he remembered that you were choosing him no matter if he was your dad’s best friend. It was moments like this that made that fact feel completely irrelevant.

“Baby girl,” he said, voice now a low rumble as he set the spatula down and turned around to face you.

You looked up at him with a smile. “Yes?”

Joel’s gaze traveled everywhere visible to him before his rough hands settled on your hips. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Your heart leapt in your chest. He always complimented you but every time it made you feel special. The flannel rose slightly up as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he groaned as your curves moulded into his weathered one. Even under that layer of soft pudge you could feel the muscle still there, just buried under age now.

His hands slid up, gripping your waist now before dipping his head down to brush his beard against your neck. “Look at you, baby. So pretty. My pretty little girl, hmm?”

You smiled into his shoulder, unable to stop yourself from reacting. “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed a kiss on your collarbone before releasing a low hum, his beard scraping against your skin. “What if we skipped dinner?”

With a small laugh, you kissed the side of his head. “No, thank you. All that swimming made me hungry.”

Reluctantly, he pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, I’ll wait. Gotta make sure you eat first.”

Dinner was delicious—you should’ve learned to stop doubting Joel’s cooking skills. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you sat across from him, looking like a vision wrapped in sun kisses and warmth.

His girl.

After dinner, he insisted on doing the dishes while you could go lie down and relax. He didn’t let you argue, threatening to stuff your mouth with his fingers if you didn’t get off your pretty little feet.

Even though you didn’t mind having his fingers in your mouth, you listened anyway.

Settling down into his dark sheets, you instantly buried your face in his pillow. Maybe you were freaked out but you were sure you could get off just by inhaling the scent of him—sawdust, a hint of whiskey, traces of leather, and just a little bit of cheap cologne. Comfort washed over you, resulting in a sigh as you burrowed further into his bedding.

Not much time passed before the door creaked open. Joel stepped inside, already smiling to himself at the sight of you claiming his space as your own.

With a grunt and the sounds of his joints cracking, he lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even make a joke this time. There was no need to. The age difference had been acknowledged long ago and now it was just something that you’d gotten used to.

And you loved your old man just as he was.

His shoes thunked to the floor as he slipped them off, followed by his socks. At the sound of clothes rustling, you peeked out of the pillow to watch as he stripped down to nothing.

Instantly, your mouth watered. His strong back flexed as he reached for some boxers, pulling them up and obscuring your view of his incredible ass.

Since Joel could sense your gaze from ten feet away, he turned around to see your glittering eyes gazing up at him. Adoration and desire welled in his chest, latching onto his heart.

There was nothing Joel Miller wouldn’t do for his lady and he knew he’d go to great lengths just to see you gaze at him like that.

You rolled onto your back as soon as his knees sank into the mattress, his large frame coming up to cage you in.

“Ya don’t have a clue how pretty you look like this,” Joel said, the words rumbling deep in his chest as his knuckles grazed against your sunburnt cheek.

Your eyes softened immediately. Every time you had your handsome man pressing you into his bed, nothing else mattered. Your father, his age, your secrets—they all vanished the second his hand brushed your skin.

“Yeah?” You breathed out dreamily.

His beard burned deliciously against your neck, using his nose to get you to put your head back. His fingers came up to tangle in your damp hair, keeping you exposed to him. “Uh huh,” his tongue licked a stripe over your pulse. “My pretty, pretty baby. All for me. Letting her old man touch her like this.”

Fireworks ignited in your stomach, the fuse burning quickly and landing hot in your lower belly.

Your manicured fingers—thanks to Joel paying for you—threaded through his salt and pepper hair to keep his head from moving away. His tongue lavished your skin with intense focus, his lips occasionally replacing the wet muscle.

One perk of dating an older man was how sensual they could be. Joel didn’t rush or pull or take unless you asked for it. Instead, he took his time, giving attention to every inch of your body.

“Joel—” you gasped as his free hand slipped down to grasp your thigh.

“Hmm, baby?” His words were muffled as they stayed stuck to your skin, licking up the sweet lotion. “You teased me all day. S’not a nice way to treat your old man.”

Whatever you were going to say got trapped in your throat as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Your nerves were overwhelmed, trying to keep up with his hand squeezing your thigh and his tongue sliding against yours.

Suddenly, the summer heat felt like nothing compared to how hot he was making you feel.

Joel pulled back a little, reveling in how you chased his lips and your fingers went to undo one of the buttons on the flannel you were wearing.

“My baby wants me to love on her, huh?” He murmured, mouth still hovering over yours. “You been waitin’ all day, haven’t ya?”

“Yeah.” The word was practically just a breath as you continued to try and unbutton the flannel.

He didn’t know how he managed to get himself in this position. His best friend’s daughter underneath him, breathless and needy for him. For an old man twice her age who shouldn’t have thought twice about how well he knew your body, how much he was taken by you.

But gosh, Joel didn’t care that he felt like a dirty old man as his fingers moved to help you out of the garment.

Your breath caught as it fell open to reveal the roundness of your breasts, nipples pebbled even though the room was anything but cold.

Joel had to close his eyes, pressing his forehead hard against your shoulder. “Baby,” he groaned, curling his fingers hard into your thigh. His breathing was ragged now, teeth scraping against your collarbone like he was fighting to not cave into giving you what you wanted. You had teased him all day but right now he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Look at you,” he panted, his lips sealing over one of the sensitive buds.

It drew a whimper from your throat, back arching already to press your breast further into his mouth. “Oh yeah…” you gasped again as he sucked, feeling as he massaged your thigh.

After giving the other side some attention, his face hovered back over yours. Honey dripped in the warm depths of his irises. One large hand smoothed over your hair before cupping your cheek as he pressed a loving kiss on your lips.

That night, as Joel made sweet love to you, one thing became very clear to both of you.

No matter what happened, no matter who found out, those two months of summer loving were worth every bit of it.

[lvely-prose]

— two banana milkshakes

pairings: benjamin poindexter x fem! reader

synopsis: at the beginning of your relationship with dex, you never let him meet your daughter. until one day she decided she wanted to meet him. and turns out they both really loved banana milkshakes.

word count: 4.9k

warnings/content: reader has a kid named ellie, mentions of violence, canonic bullseye references, suggestive intro, domestic dex, fluff fluff fluff

pae speaks ~ this is purely because i think the concept of dex with children is adorable. i understand it doesn’t make sense canonically <3

The knock came earlier than you expected.

You had agreed to go on a date with your boyfriend but you were supposed to go later in the day. Throughout your relationship, Dex had always been very punctual—never late, never too early. Always on time.

Today seemed to be different.

You jumped up from your vanity, still wrapped in a robe with your makeup half done and your hair still wet. It was a little after noon, the apartment lively with the television playing some cartoon at low volume and your little girl playing loudly with her toys in the room next to yours. Getting ready for a date was easier when she was occupied.

Her father was to pick her up before Dex came over. That way he wouldn’t have to meet her just yet. It still felt too early and well, Dex was absolutely petrified to finally meet the little girl that was your whole world.

Your bare feet slapped against the tile as you raced to the front door, clutching your robe.

Once you stopped in front of it, you took a breath and composed yourself. You always got excited when he came over because he was always busy with… other things.

You opened the door with a smile, eyes landing on Dex. He stood on the other side with a grin, already stepping closer.

“You’re early,” you said but it wasn’t in an accusatory way. Just a simple fact.

His large hands found your hips like they were magnetized, drawing you in closer until you were aligned with his chest. “That a bad thing?”

Your hands snaked up his chest, settling on the back of his neck. “Not at all,” you said with a little smirk and a glint in your eyes.

Dex chuckled lowly, head dipping down close to yours. “Good. I was worried you might kick me out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You murmured before his lips connected to yours in a deep kiss.

Sometimes you weren’t sure if Dex knew how to kiss without acting like it would be the last time he ever got to. He was always thorough, tasting you by licking into your mouth leisurely.

Dex was addicted to your mouth. He loved your lips, how soft they were against his, how they so easily parted for him.

He backed you up further into the apartment without ever taking his lips off of yours. His boot clad foot kicked the door shut behind him. You sighed against his mouth as his hands squeezed your hips tighter. But once they slid down to your ass, that’s when you had to reluctantly pull away.

Dex nearly whined, his forehead pressing against yours. He was always needy for you, wanting to be attached to your hip at all times.

Your hands pressed with a subtle pressure at his broad shoulders. “I need to go finish getting ready.”

His lips had already begun to move down your neck, his breath heavy and hot. “Do you have to?”

“Yes, baby,” you said, smiling to yourself as he continued to shower you with affection. That was one of your favorite things about him. He was so taken with you, always needing to be close to you, touching you in some capacity just to remind himself that he was okay. That he was anchored to shore as long as he had you.

“But you look so pretty like this,” his voice was low as it vibrated against your skin, now wet with his saliva as he licked slowly. He groaned lowly at the salty taste, so good he almost wanted to take a bite.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you fought the whimper climbing up your throat. “I’ll look even prettier after I’m done.”

Reluctantly, Dex pulled back, brushing one last kiss to your lips. “Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll do my best,” you winked, turning around back towards the hallway but not before a squeal passed through your lips as he swatted your ass.

Dex grinned to himself once you were out of sight, shaking his head at the floor. He never understood why a precious thing like you would ever want to be with someone as messed up as he was. Your gentleness and your kindness was what he clung to, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Taking a minute to glance around your apartment, his keen eyes landed on the toys scattered around, the drawings pinned on the refrigerator, the small shoes in the entryway.

Sometimes he forgot that you weren’t just his. That you were a mother and a very good one at that. Your little girl was all you ever talked about and yet every time you did, terror ripped through his chest.

Children had never been on his radar.

He found them obnoxious, sticky, whiny, and too high demanding.

Not only that but Dex knew who he was. He was a dangerous man with lethal hands and a hunger for blood. Any child around him was exposed to his deadly nature, his unstable mind.

Being a stepfather was daunting, but for you, he just needed time to learn.

He just wasn’t expecting that time to be now.

Dex heard the tiny footsteps before he saw who was making them. His whole body tensed up as he registered what those sounds meant—your daughter was home.

When the little girl rounded the corner in her pink pajamas with princess crowns on them, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Dex didn’t move. Just stared down at the tiny human being who stared right back at him.

For a long moment he waited for her to scream. To shout for her mother to come scare off the stranger standing in her home.

Yet all she did was stand there, head tilted all the way back to look up at him.

Gosh, she looked just like you. Same hair and wide eyes. Of course he’d seen photos of her since she was all you talked about most of the time but in person the similarities were unmistakable.

After a long moment, she gave a gapped toothed smile. “You’re tall.”

Dex blinked in surprise, not having expected those two simple words spoken in that quaint little voice. He cleared his throat, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he gave a firm nod. “Yeah. I am.”

She giggled before toddling over to him.

Dex didn’t move a muscle. He stayed perfectly still, holding his breath as the tiny creature approached.

Her chubby cheeks scrunched as she giggled. “You’re a giant.”

Despite the fact she was only five years old, her words struck an insecurity he never even had until now. Certainly he wasn’t that big—she was just really small, Dex thought to himself. That had to be it.

But then he recalled how he looked standing next to you. Literally his phone wallpaper was a mirror picture of you and him. He was positioned behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and his face hidden in your neck. That photo alone showed you were a head shorter than him, his broad shoulders almost like an elephant trying to hide behind a tree.

He chalked it up to prison time making him that way.

Staring down at the little girl did in fact make him feel like giant.

Her head tilted like a curious puppy. “Do you love momma?”

That sentence alone could’ve taken years off his life. He suspected it was supposed to make him ponder how deep his feelings ran for you but it only furthered his opinions on how nosy and annoying children were.

Dex glanced at the hallway where he knew your bedroom was. It took a lot to render New York’s deadliest assassin speechless and yet this tiny thing managed to do it within the first few minutes she’d known him.

This is why I’m never having children Dex’s inner monologue kept repeating although he’d come to that conclusion long ago.

He was a forty year old man with major psychological issues and a ledger that was gushing red.

You knew that and stayed anyway. And even though you had a mini version of you, he couldn’t bring himself to let that go.

So, trying his best to keep his annoyance at bay, he replied with a simple, “maybe.”

“Hmph,” the little girl huffed, her smile instantly morphing into a straight line. “You can’t have my momma then.”

Dex stifled the laugh that came unexpectedly. He couldn’t let her know he found that amusing or else she’d keep going. “Oh really now?”

“Yes.” She stated matter of factly. Nothing more and nothing less.

Since he finally was able to move, he crouched down to her level even though he was still looking down at her.

She didn’t budge. Stubborn, just like her mother.

“I’m sure you’ve been taught what sharing is,” Dex said with a knowing smile.

He watched it click in her head. He may have not have known a lot about kids but he did know how to read people, even if they were only five.

But it seemed she didn’t understand the concept of sharing a person.

“Momma said I have to share my toys and crayons.”

“Yeah?” Dex rose a brow.

“Mhm!” She hummed with a nod. Her small fingers reached out to poke his cheek before gasping as she felt the deep scar slashed across his right one.

He watched as fear grew on her dainty features before it transformed into curiosity again. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to back away. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, just seeing that not all people were whole on the outside.

As her tiny fingertips traced over the scar, you came around the hallway.

“Ellie!” You gasped, making her startle as you jogged over and quickly scooped her into your arms. She squirmed a little as you settled her on your hip.

Your frantic eyes landed on Dex as he stood back up to his full height but he didn’t seem disturbed by the interrogation you knew your daughter had given him. “I’m sorry about her. Her dad’s picking her up later and you got here early so—”

“No need to apologize,” Dex cut you off, analyzing how stressed you were about him finally meeting your daughter.

It hadn’t gone the way you wanted it to. Although you’d been dating Dex for a few months now, you were so careful about the men you brought home and let your daughter meet. She was everything to you and you needed her as safe as possible.

You knew who your boyfriend was. His mental disorders were difficult to handle but you did because he needed you. And more recently, you realized you needed him.

For a long time after your divorce, you didn’t date anyone. You spent all of your hours making sure you were providing Ellie with the best possible care you could give her. That meant working double shifts, taking her everywhere if there wasn’t a babysitter available, and setting her up for success.

In those years, you’d neglected yourself because you so desperately wanted to be a good mother for her.

But once you realized that to be good to her, you needed to be good to yourself.

Entering a relationship with Dex was something you did with the utmost care. And once you found out about his past and his vigilantism, you were admitted a little scared. You didn’t want Ellie around someone that unstable.

Yet, Dex made you happy. He was messed up, that was a fact, but he always handled you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever been allowed to hold. While he did have his moments, he always remembered that he had you and that his world wasn’t falling apart like it sometimes felt like.

You spent a long time building trust with him and now that he was here, your daughter also present, you were putting that trust to the test.

After a moment of gathering your thoughts, you let out a breath and smoothed back Ellie’s messy hair. “Well, I wasn’t planning on doing this today. But Dex, this is Ellie, my daughter.”

Dex nodded. “We’ve been acquainted.”

You smiled a little bit before looking at Ellie and pointing at your boyfriend. “And Ellie, this is Dex, mommy’s boyfriend. He’s going to be around for a while.”

Ellie continued to stare at him just like she had been. She raised a hand to point at his cheek. “What’s that?”

You and Dex shared a look. A silent understanding passed between the two of you. There was no way you were going to corrupt her innocence and so you quickly came up with a child friendly excuse.

“You know those monsters I check for every night?” You asked her gently.

Ellie nodded even though a flicker of fear passed through her eyes.

“Dex beats up those monsters,” you said, gesturing to the scar. “It got him, too, but he’s so strong that he took down the monster.”

She swiveled her head back to Dex where he nodded. “She’s not wrong.”

Deciding that was the truth, Ellie didn’t ask any further questions. Just laid her head on your shoulder and played with your hair that you had just finished with.

That’s when Dex finally took a moment to admire you. And wow, you were definitely right earlier. He loved when you were all natural, no makeup or fancy clothes—just you. But he also loved when you dressed up.

Here you were now, looking like something out of his dreams. You wore simple mom jeans, a flowy black blouse with lace detailing, and matching black heels. Your makeup was done naturally, your hair down around your shoulders.

It wasn’t fancy by any means but he was so taken by how beautiful you looked even while dressing for a casual date.

Now seeing you holding your daughter so naturally while looking so pretty, Dex was hit with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

You were his woman. He had decided that on your second date. But seeing you tend to Ellie made him realize that this was now about both of you.

His girls.

“Mommy,” Ellie said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“You’re wearing your pretty shoes.”

You smiled softly at that. “Yeah, I am.”

“Are you going out?”

Shifting her on your hip, you used your free hand to brush hair behind her ear. “Yes. Dex is taking mommy out on a date and daddy’s gonna pick you up.”

Ellie pouted, snuggling closer to you. “I don’t want to see daddy. He watches tv all the time.”

With a sigh, you glanced at Dex whose jaw seemed a lot tighter now.

You knew how lazy your ex-husband was. During your marriage, he never really did anything to provide for you or Ellie except make a few bucks. He always canceled plans seeing her and you never argued even though it would’ve been nice to have some help.

“Sweetie, daddy waits all week to see you.” Your voice was gentle but the pout of her lips made your heart ache.

“I don’t wanna go.” Ellie said, bottom lip now trembling as tears welled up in her big eyes.

You felt stuck.

Dex was standing there waiting to take you out, to get to spend some time with you before the busy week sucked you back in. He admired how hard you worked but he knew how badly you needed a break.

But you had a child to take care of and she was always first priority. Her needs had always been more important than yours.

He knew that. So he spoke up. “She can come with.”

When you went to object, Ellie’s head shot up. She looked at Dex before at you, slapping a hand against your chest. “I wanna go, mommy!”

“Ellie, honey…”

“Pleaseee?” She drawed out, giving you those puppy eyes that were impossible to say no to.

Instantly, you caved. “Okay,” you sighed out, setting her down on the floor and she took off running to her room with a trail of laughter.

You pushed a hand through your hair and gave a tentative smile at him. “You sure about that offer?”

Dex stepped closer, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his chest. His smile was one of those genuine ones you never really got to see. “If we’re doing this, I want to be in every aspect. That includes this.”

Your heart fluttered but you shook your head. “Dex, I know how you feel about kids. If you don’t want them then I understand if you want to le—”

He cut you off with a kiss on your glossy lips. Instantly, he tasted the vanilla flavor of it—his absolute favorite.

You melted against him as he held his lips against yours for a moment before pulling back.

“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered lowly, his thumb stroking against your knuckles. “Not now, not ever. You understand?”

Stunned, you didn’t say anything for a second before he squeezed your hand. “Yeah,” you breathed out. “I understand.”

As he kissed your forehead, Ellie’s voice rang from her room. “Mommy! I need help!”

With a little smile, you pulled back and headed towards the hallway.

Dex stood there, the monster in him finally silent as he watched his favorite girl go be the mother he adored.

Ellie had a death grip on your hand as the three of you walked down the busy streets. You’d put her in an outfit that matched yours, except she wore black flats instead of heels.

Dex hated to admit it but he found it adorable. And there weren’t many things Benjamin Poindexter found adorable.

You had changed something in him and he didn’t even know what it was.

Bel Aire Diner came into view after a short walk and Dex gladly held the door open, the bell chiming and signaling your arrival. Ellie gasped at the lobster tank once she entered, dropping your hand and running over to it.

Dex put a hand on the small of your back as you followed her, always needing to be touching you in some capacity.

“Fishies!” Ellie exclaimed, fingers to the glass as she peered into the rectangular tank.

“Lobsters,” Dex corrected from where he stood behind her with you.

For a second, you went to tell him she didn’t listen well to people she barely knew but this time, she didn’t mind.

“Lobster,” Ellie repeated the word before waving a tiny hand. “Hi, lobster!”

A smile lifted your lips and you glanced up at Dex who briefly looked shocked he managed to teach her something. He was trying, even though you knew it was hard for a man like him to be gentle—especially with someone so tiny.

You leaned into him a bit in a silent way to say thank you for being good to her.

Since it was free seating, you slid into a booth by the window. Ellie took the window seat, you sliding in beside her while Dex sat across from you. Even with the distance, he found a way to touch you—his boot against your heel, his hand in yours across the table.

Ellie didn’t care at all.

She was practically bouncing in her seat even though she stayed in one place, being taught proper manners and how to act in public.

You looked at her, using your free hand to brush the hair out of her face. It always seemed to get out of control no matter if you put it in braids, pigtails, or a ponytail.

“What do you want, El?” You asked in that motherly tone you’d mastered.

Ellie beamed. “Milkshake!”

That caught Dex’s attention.

He sat forward, forearms braced on the table even though his hand never left yours. “You like milkshakes, huh?”

“Yep,” she smiled brightly at him, kicking her legs.

Dex smiled back. “Ever try the banana one?”

She shook her head furiously, causing more hair to escape its rubber band. Then she looked at you. “Can I get one, momma?”

You nodded with a gentle smile. “Of course you can.”

“Yay!” She exclaimed, climbing into your lap since she could barely see over the edge of the table.

Once she settled in, she grabbed the crayons and the coloring page the diner gave children. A great tactic to keep them occupied for the short while they had to wait.

When the waitress came over, she didn’t look too happy to be there until she saw Ellie whose tongue was poking out slightly in concentration.

“What can I get for y’all today?” She asked, pulling out her notepad.

Dex leaned in to give the order. “One matcha and two banana milkshakes.”

You kept your eyes on him, feeling your heart beat quicker at the fact he memorized what drink you usually ordered and how he thought of Ellie.

The waitress wrote it down before asking, “do you want whip?”

But before he could answer, Ellie beat him to it.

“Yes!” She said, nearly throwing her head back against your chest.

A smile tugged at the waitresses lips despite her attempts to keep it smothered. “Coming right up.”

As Ellie continued to contentedly color in the cartoonish dog, you caught Dex staring at you. He never could keep his eyes off of you, always admiring how beautiful you were even when doing the most basic tasks.

“What?” You said with a little smile.

Dex grinned, the wrinkles etched into his forehead crinkling slightly. “I’m looking at you.”

“I see that.” A pink hue rose into your cheeks. Anyone with two eyes saw just how obsessed he was with you just from a glance. His fingers always on your body somewhere, his eyes never leaving you, his protective behavior radiating off him like an invisible force field.

He leaned forward more, bringing your hand to his lips and brushing a delicate kiss against your knuckles. “You can’t blame me. Not when you’re looking like that. Especially not when you’re my woman.”

Your cheeks burned even more.

He always knew how to make your insides turn to mush. How to get your heart racing. It was like second nature to him, how fast and easy it was to get you flustered.

With your free hand, you smoothed over Ellie’s hair. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Dex said. “This is still a date. We just have a little one tagging along.”

You glanced at Ellie who was so engrossed in her picture that she couldn’t care less about the conversation going on. Even though you didn’t say it, you liked how he was still acknowledging her even though this had originally been planned with the intention of it just being you and him.

The waitress came back over in record time, a tray balanced on her hand with three drinks. She placed down the banana milkshakes first, Dex giving her a mock-polite smile and a gruff, “thank you.”

Ellie gasped, nearly knocking the glass onto the table and you steadied her quickly. “Easy there, sweetie. You won’t be able to drink it if it’s on the floor.”

You thanked the waitress before helping Ellie put the red straw into the shake. She already had the cherry in her mouth, chewing loudly before she found the straw.

Dex had both hands on his glass, taking long sips of the banana milkshake.

You smiled into your matcha as Ellie slapped her hands on the table and began trying to drink hers faster. You found it very amusing that she was trying to race Dex since he was drinking his like it’d be taken away.

“Slow down, turbo,” you said with a small laugh but when Ellie was determined, it was nearly impossible to stop her.

Eventually, she had to pull away and catch her breath, licking the sweetness off her lips. She panted before pinning Dex with a glare. “How do you do that?”

He pulled back from his milkshake, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. “Do what?”

“That!” She pointed at the empty glass, only a bit of whipped cream still at the bottom. “Mommy always says to drink slowly to not get hiccups.”

Dex knew you had a knack for gentle parenting and clearly it was working. “She’s right. You’ll get hiccups if you drink it too fast.”

Ellie pouted before sipping her milkshake again, the frown quickly replaced with a smile. “It’s more yummy like this!”

“Exactly,” Dex nodded. “Listen to your mom, kiddo. She knows best.”

The two of you locked eyes, you giving him a grateful look. You had been parenting practically by yourself for a long time now and hearing Dex say that meant more than you could ever express.

After the three of you ate, you headed back to the apartment. Ellie always got sleepy after she ate a full meal, having you carry her back. But while she was still very small, she did get heavy after holding her for a while.

Dex instantly caught it. He saw the strain in your arms, the way you kept shifting her to find a better position. But Ellie was nearly asleep, her body limp and fragile, head resting on your shoulder.

It was a sight that made something in his cold heart warm just the slightest bit. And he knew you needed help, even if you refused to admit it.

He turned to you on the sidewalk, fingers tentatively brushing against your arm. “Let me carry her back up.”

You stopped walking, tipping your head up at him. For a man of such brutality, he didn’t look it now. A rare gentleness he only reserved for you was now being put into place because of your daughter.

For all of who Dex was, this was something you only could’ve imagined. But now that it was coming to life, you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him.

“Okay,” you replied quietly, gently peeling Ellie off of you and handing her to Dex.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. A man like him didn’t know how to handle children since he never needed to before. His hands were stained with blood and yet, as soon as he cradled her to his chest, something in his world shifted.

This small, soft little human being in his strong arms settled the alarm bells ringing through his head.

Ellie breathed deeply, sound asleep against him and the second her tiny fingers curled into his shirt, Dex felt the ice in his heart chipping away.

You watched intently as he carried her, your heart squeezing at how adorable the sight was. While Dex wasn’t and had never been father material, he was good at adapting and that’s just what he was doing.

Ellie was comfortable with him, you noticed. Instead of sensing someone new was holding her, she curled into Dex like he was a net of warmth and safety.

And if Dex was willing to kill to keep you safe, you knew it was guaranteed he’d do the same for her.

Back in the apartment, you let him put her down for the night. Watching the way he handled her like a breakable porcelain doll made you realize that no matter his problems and how dangerous he was, you didn’t want anyone but him.

Once he flicked the light off and gently closed the door behind him, Dex saw the glassy sheen of your eyes.

His calloused palms landed on your shoulders, drawing you in closer. “What is it, baby, huh? Why are you about to cry?”

You shook your head, trying to blink your tears back. “Just… thank you. For being with me and for being so gentle with Ellie even though I know it’s not easy for you.”

The second those words were uttered, Dex had you enveloped in his big arms right there in the hallway. He pressed you close, whispering into your hair, “I’m not going anywhere. Never. S’just you and me, remember? And Ellie. Just us.”

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the heavy beat of his heart. “You really mean that?” You murmured.

Dex held on even tighter. “You’ve got me.”

After a few moments you pulled back with a little smile on your lips. “You’re good with her.”

“Ellie?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know it’s soon but… what if we had a baby? A little one who’s both you and me? I know Ellie would love a sibling and…” you stopped yourself. “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Forget I said anything.”

Even though Dex was hit with a sense of terror, he didn’t get mad or freak out. His hands came up to cup either side of your neck, forehead pressing against yours.

“You know who I am,” he said quietly, tracing his thumb over your jaw.

You gave a little sigh. “I know.”

“But we can talk about it, okay?” He tilted your head up just a little bit. “You’re it for me. And I’ll do anything to keep you, alright? But you might have to wait.”

A spark of hope flickered through you. Maybe a life with him wasn’t as impossible as you thought it was.

You nodded, trying not to be too eager. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

With that, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips, sealing the deal. Dex wasn’t sure he knew the difference between obsession and love but right now he was sure he was feeling the latter. For as long as he could remember love was just a concept to him, one he never got to know.

But now, speaking of a future with you and stepping into a role that wasn’t of a bloodthirsty vigilante, Dex wanted it more than anything.

[lvely-prose]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MORE F1 DEX THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD

HI!! I will definitely consider writing more F1 Dex 🤭 THANK YOU AND IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[lawboysammyy]

“i’d reach into your body and fix you if i could” but it’s frank castle x reader who wakes up in the middle of the night to find frank after he had a nightmare about maria and the kids again

[lvely-prose]

— isn’t it delicate?

“ my reputation’s never been worse so,

you must like me for me ”

pairings: mark callan x fem! reader

synopsis: after an unfortunate mishap in the law world, you went back to L.A. to get away from it all. which meant rooming with your best friend from law school—the only person who stayed while your reputation crashed and burned around you.

word count: 4.6k

warnings/content: best friends to lovers, crying, cutesy love confession, fluff, inspired by the song ‘delicate’ by taylor swift

pae speaks ~ the lack of mark fics is unacceptable so i’m here for fan service <3 (i love all rise and wilson looks so fine in this show)

Jazzy music played lowly throughout the bar you were in. It was dimly lit, classy, a place of comfort that came from many nights long ago when you had your friends who’d dance with you until closing. Those were fun times. Times before you moved away from everyone—from Mark.

You sat on one of the tall, black leather bar stools, nursing a glass of white wine. Underneath, your black tights stretched over your legs as you crossed them, not bothering to fix your dress when it rode up your thighs.

The bar tender kept glancing at you, nearly mesmerized as your manicured finger traced the rim of your wine glass. A red lipstick imprint was left there and it smudged.

You hadn’t meant to get as tipsy as you did. Not fully drunk but pretty close.

Being back in L.A felt like every dream you had was now crushed.

I’ll be back for Christmas you had told everyone at the firm a couple years ago. They all laughed through their tears, hugging you like you were going away for good. But most of all, they were so happy for you.

Living in New York City had always been your dream. Rent a nice apartment, do your best work at your law firm, and hopefully find love.

Simple, really.

And you did it. Two years in the big city, defending citizens in federal court, and a boyfriend who treated you well.

But once one thing fell, so did another.

Now you were here, holding back tears over your third glass. Your painted red lips were set in a subtle frown that you hadn’t been able to wipe off since the airport.

No one knew you were back in California. Not your family. Not Lola. And certainly not Mark.

With your busy schedules, it was difficult to keep in touch. On the occasion he did text to check up on you, it always made your shoulders feel a little lighter. When you replied with a simple not great he’d say something understanding and encouraging.

Then he’d tag on a stupid selfie of himself, knowing it’d get a smile on your lips no matter the situation.

That’s how you ended up pulling out your phone and clicking on his contact despite the fact you’d reprimanded yourself several times that you wouldn’t tell anyone you were back.

However, that was difficult when you didn’t have a car or a place to stay.

Even though those were problems on their own, you also just really wanted a hug from your best friend whom you hadn’t seen in two years.

So you sent a few simple messages:

Mark.

I am not intoxicated.

But I am here.

And I need you.

After tacking on the address at the end, you set your phone down on the countertop and downed the rest of your wine.

You stared into your empty glass while you waited. Every decision you’d made ran through your mind, regret and humiliation slamming into you over and over and over again.

It got to the point where you had to cover your face with your hands once you felt your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Not now you thought repeatedly.

But damn, if you wanted to.

You were so focused on trying not to let go of the faucet handle that you didn’t see him enter until you heard your name being called.

Turning around slowly, your eyes landed on the man you’d been missing for far too long.

“Mark,” you breathed out in relief, not sparing a second as you slid out of your seat and threw your arms around him.

He caught you instantly, one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. Confused as he was, he didn’t bombard you with questions.

Just held you like no time had passed.

Breathing in the scent of cologne and something uniquely him, it felt like coming home.

Back in law school, Mark had always been there for you and you were there for him. It was a silent understanding between the two of you. If he was having issues with his dad, you dropped everything to be by his side. If you were dealing with your crime-ridden family, he was already double checking to see if he could take the case in court.

It was easier back then. You two had a routine set in place, one that never changed unless there was a dire situation to tend to.

He knew how you took your coffee, catalogued every time you did that cute thing with your nose. Mark had always loved the way it scrunched up when you got frustrated and when he said something about it, you immediately denied it. When you did it again, he took a picture he still had in his phone till this day.

You knew how many ties he owned, always buying him new ones for Christmas or his birthday. One time he told you he had too many so you resorted to buying him socks.

Let’s just say he was terrible at hiding the betrayal he felt.

Mark knew you better than anyone. He saw your happy days and the days where you couldn’t stay composed anymore.

Before you left for New York, there was a brief period when you caught feelings.

You hated yourself for it but every time you looked into his eyes, you pretended he was yours. He had a girlfriend at the time—some model you couldn’t name—but you still let yourself imagine that he belonged with you instead.

And you always wondered if he ever shared the same thoughts.

Tonight, as he held you a little tighter, you weren’t thinking about any of that. Just that you were so grateful to be back in his arms.

After a minute, you pulled back to look up at him.

He seemed relatively the same except that he looked more tired than usual, a few new wrinkles creasing his face. What you noticed instantly was that he wasn’t wearing a suit. Just a white shirt and dark jeans with a thin gold chain around his neck.

“Mark,” you said again, holding onto his biceps like he’d vanish.

“Yeah.” He replied, fingers brushing against your elbows. “I missed you so much. I didn’t expect to see you for—”

“Another four months?” You finished for him. “I know. I just… I needed to come back and I wanted to see you and my friends and you and—”

“Hey, slow down,” Mark said calmly, eyes widening a little bit with concern. He glanced over your shoulder just in time to see the bartender clear your empty glass.

You watched as it dawned on him. “No. I’m not drunk.”

“No wonder you’re a defense attorney. You suck at lying,” he countered before looking down at your suitcase by his leg.

“I only had three glasses. But that’s not…” you took a deep breath. “That’s not the point.”

Mark’s eyes returned to yours. “Then what is the point? Why are you back so soon? I’m not complaining, you’re just worrying me.”

Your chest heaved slightly as you recalled exactly why you were there. Suddenly, you felt terrified of telling him what happened even though you also questioned that. Mark had never gotten angry at you for something that wasn’t your fault.

Yet, deep down, a part of you did believe this was your fault.

You felt the hem of his shirt sleeve, trying to ground yourself to the reality of him standing in front of you.

“Mark, I think…” you trailed off, a chainlink wrapping tight around your throat. “I think I messed up.”

The air felt heavier with your admission. A look of concern immediately transformed his handsome features, already brainstorming questions like this was some sort of trial and you were the witness.

Just as quickly, it morphed into something like protection. He looked around before grabbing your suitcase handle and your hand.

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet and then we can talk. You’ve got me, princess, you know that.”

His apartment was clean since he was rarely ever home, the small space minimal but cozy with the dark accents and dim lights. Just how you remembered it.

Mark put your suitcase in his room before going to the kitchen to make you your favorite tea. He still kept a few bags even when you weren’t there.

“This space has always been yours as much as it is mine. You don’t have to just stand there,” Mark said, watching as you stood by the counter.

You weren’t listening though.

The events of the past week came back to you. Not in flashes but in vivid detail, like you were reliving it.

Your boyfriend. The court room. How the judge looked down on you. The juries stares. Their whispers.

“Hey.”

You snapped your gaze towards Mark who was now right by you, mug in hand. Neither of you cared about the tea right now.

He set it down on the counter with a small clink. “What’s got my favorite girl so upset that she had to fly all the way here, huh?”

You tugged at your dress before looking up towards the ceilings, blinking back the salt in your eyes.

Mark immediately noticed, watching as your bottom lip trembled slightly and the way your eyes glossed over.

“My… my boyfriend,” you began quietly, blowing out a breath while turning your focus to the counter. “Well, ex-boyfriend now. He uh…”

Your heart started to race and your hands began to shake. You hadn’t told anyone since that whole entire court room had already witnessed it.

Mark placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and gently led you over to the sofa.

You sat down, bringing your legs up even though your heels were still on. Any other time he would’ve corrected you but he could read a room and now was not the time.

He sat close beside you, knee nearly touching yours but still giving you space. “Just breathe. I’m right here.”

You bit your bottom lip as a stray tear fell. “He humiliated me in front of everyone. It was like he purposefully made me lose it but I… I know I’m better than that. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if I can show my face there again, Mark.”

Staying quiet, he soaked in every word even as the anger began to settle into his chest.

Mark had met your ex-boyfriend over the phone only a few times before suddenly you stopped calling all together. He never asked you why, figuring you were just busy or preferred texting. But somewhere in his mind he knew that guy had something to do with it.

Did it sometimes sting to see you with another man? Yeah, it did.

He knew it was so wrong. He’d had a girlfriend that you were practically friends with but every time he saw Ryan’s name mentioned, some unfamiliar feeling came from somewhere he couldn’t place.

Your words were just furthering his point that his intuition was right.

You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand. “The client was fine. But Ryan just kept pushing and pushing and I snapped. I threw things and gosh, it was horrible. Like I wasn’t even in control of myself.”

Mark ran a hand over his stubbled jaw before putting it on the back of your neck. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, you turned your head to face him.

“I know that feeling. Of just wanting to wreck the court room, especially when things get heated. And honestly? I think it’s pretty cool that you actually did it.” He smirked slightly.

You let out a laugh that bordered on a scoff. “Don’t say that. It’s… embarrassing.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “You know what’s embarrassing? Your ex. Clearly he wasn’t being very professional either.”

“I guess,” you mumbled, picking at your nails.

He noticed instantly. His hand came to rest over yours. “They’re too pretty to ruin,” he said, his smirk turning into something softer.

You didn’t know why but your heart did a little flip.

No. He’s your best friend. He’s just comforting you since you’re the one who showed up out of nowhere.

You sniffed, feeling better now that someone else knew and didn’t hate you. Mark always knew how to handle these sort of situations.

“So you don’t think I’m a maniac?” You asked, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Absolutely not,” Mark replied matter of factly.

Even though your reputation was in shambles, he didn’t care. He let you into his home without a second thought and was sitting next to you like he wasn’t going anywhere until you told him to.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before you glanced around. “I’m assuming your girlfriend isn’t here.”

Mark sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring at the wall. “She isn’t coming back here anymore.”

Your eyes instantly widened. “You two broke up?”

He pretended to fix his watch but it was only to give his hands something to do. “Yeah. I meant to tell you sooner. We’ve just been busy and—”

“I know,” you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Mark reached over and threaded his fingers through yours. It was an action so small but it made your heart seem to grow in size. “It’s late. You’ve had a long day. And I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Right.” You closed your eyes for a second, listening to his breathing that sounded slightly more shallow than usual.

After another quiet moment, he released a deep exhale and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll go get the bed ready for you.” He stood up, fixing his shirt and went into his bedroom.

You wanted to argue that you could’ve slept on the couch but you had a long flight, you were exhausted, and a real bed sounded amazing.

As you sat there, it hit you just how much you had missed him. Two years without being able to just walk a few blocks to his apartment when you couldn’t sleep. On those nights, the two of you would sit around the coffee table and chat or play a board game to quiet your mind.

You weren’t sure when you were going to go back to New York but right now, all you wanted was his bed and the smell of him on the sheets.

Eventually, you followed after him. You leaned against the doorframe, watching as he fluffed a pillow.

A tired laugh escaped your lips, causing him to whirl around.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you answered though the smile didn’t leave your lips.

Mark pointed at you. “Again, terrible liar.”

Your smile widened and you stepped further into the room. “I forgot how neat you were.”

He gave a pat to the pillow. “Only the best for the princess. Unless you prefer flat pillows then by all means go ahead.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him before slipping off your heels at the end of the bed. You sat down, placing your hands in your lap.

Mark watched you for a beat before coming around to stand in front of you. He looked down at you and something flared in his chest. Something he remembered burying a while ago but stood no chance against how you managed to always make it surface.

Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice. “I really missed you. Just… I just wanted you to know.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident. You only heard it when he really, truly meant something.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, memorizing the exact color of hazel in his eyes. “More than I thought.”

That hit Mark square in the chest but he had no idea how to express what he was feeling. He gave a firm nod. “I’m glad you called me. Now, get some sleep. You deserve it.”

“I will.” You gave a tentative smile. “Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

That night, once your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light. As you inhaled the scent of him on his pillow, his face appeared in your dreams. Smiling, looking at you like you were worth more than your reputation ever was.

And you never wanted to wake up.

The apartment was quiet in the morning. Sun rays stretched across the floor, inching towards the bed where you started to stir awake. You blinked your bleary eyes before shifting onto your back. Feeling the soft, dark sheets beneath you reminded you of where you were—your best friend’s bed.

You dragged a hand over your face before swinging your legs over the edge. A yawn stretched your mouth wide as sleep escaped your body.

As you padded into the kitchen, you found a pot of tea with a sticky note next to it.

Made you tea. I’ll be home late but feel free to use what you need and leave the apartment ~ Mark

Against your will a smile lifted your lips. He always thought of you, made sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed.

It only made your suppressed feelings for him worse.

As the day wore on, you did what he suggested.

You took an ‘everything shower’ to cheer yourself up and show yourself some love before putting on a black leather skirt and a cream colored halter top, pairing it with your heels. You put on some makeup and headed out.

Los Angeles was exactly what you remembered it being. It wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as New York and it felt like a breath of fresh air.

By the time you got back to Mark’s place, you had several bags of groceries. He had never been good at stocking up considering he lived alone most of the time so you figured you’d do him a favor.

Surprisingly, you managed to have a nice day. It felt like your reputation was now burning up miles away in a city you got to pick when you’d return to.

As the sun began to set, you changed into a silky, navy blue colored nightgown. It was your normal nightwear but for some reason, you wanted to have a certain someone do a double take.

You let your hair down around your shoulders and headed into the kitchen. You turned on some music, not too loud, beginning to work on dinner.

Eventually, as the noodles began to soften and the sauce began to pop, night had fallen. Mark still wasn’t home but you would just leave a bowl in the microwave for him.

You ate by yourself, avoiding your phone and instead watched a movie on the television.

Right as you finished your food, the door opened.

Mark walked in, suit still pristine but his styled hair a little more tousled now. He set his briefcase down and braced his hands on the counter, closing his eyes. His shoulders were tense as he exhaled and slid off his suit jacket, draping it over a bar stool.

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, setting the bowl down and going over to him. “Rough day?”

His head snapped towards you like he hadn’t remembered you were staying in his apartment. But at the sight of you, his whole body seemed to drain of tension.

“You have no idea,” he said, voice gruff.

“I’m sorry.” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day fade from his muscles. “I made you food. It’s in the microwave if you’re hungry. Eat and then we can talk about it, yeah?”

Hesitantly, he nodded before going to get his dinner.

Afterwards, he went to find you so he could talk to you about what happened but as he stepped into the bedroom, his train of thought derailed.

You were sitting in the middle of his bed, reading a book with your legs crossed.

It was a normal sight, just his best friend reading in bed. But it was his bed. The navy blue of your nightgown against his dark bedding made you look soft to the touch. A softness he wanted so badly to wrap himself up in and forget about court.

You looked up as his heavy footsteps got closer. Mark was already kicking off his shoes and discarding his tie.

His finger hit the light switch, drenching the room in darkness with only the city lights glittering through the window. Your phone lit up on the nightstand, guiding him over to you.

On his way, he removed the rest of his clothes, leaving him a pair of boxer briefs. He pulled on a pair of dark sweatpants, trading sophistication for comfort.

“Are you okay?” You asked into the dark, setting your book to the side when you felt the bed dip.

Before you could ask, his weight settled over you. His hands parted your thighs so he could fit between them before nestling down, his cheek pressing against your stomach.

Your breath caught instantly.

In the time you’d been best friends with Mark Callan, you two showed affection through gift giving and quality time. Of course you hugged from time to time but this?

This was what you had dreamed about.

Mark released a heavy sigh. “Choi benched me today.”

Your heart instantly sank for him. Law school had been the first to teach you how much Mark valued his work, how much time and effort he put into it. Some days you thought he loved his job more than anything else in the world.

To hear that his boss benched him almost made you feel like he did it to you.

“He did?”

“Mhm,” he hummed into your nightgown. Gosh, it was so soft he could’ve fallen asleep there. “Told me I take things into my own hands. That I don’t listen to him.”

You opened your mouth to defend him before closing it. As you gathered your words, your hands fell into his hair which made him relax further against you.

“Well, you do take things into your own hands.”

“For good reason!” Mark fired back before dropping his forehead against your belly. “Sorry, just… I don’t know why he can’t understand that.”

“I know, Mark,” you said gently. “It’s a delicate situation. One that I think you need to respect until he calls you back in.”

He pulled his head back enough to look up at you. For a moment, he wasn’t thinking about the conversation anymore.

You looked so beautiful, Mark thought. Your eyes glistened in the faint light, your lips red and plush from exfoliating them with a lip scrub earlier.

For so long he thought you were the prettiest girl ever. But he never had the confidence to tell you.

Instead, he got with other women, fell for them because he knew he could never have you. It cured the ache, the want inside of him. Quelled the yearning until it broke whenever he’d seen you in that bar only last night.

Mark was terrified of losing you. He was so scared he’d cross a line he couldn’t come back from.

But right now, with you under him in the darkened room, he so desperately wanted to toe the line and finally see if you felt the same way.

“Mark?” You asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said, blinking. “Yeah, you’re right. I should respect his decision.”

You went to say something when you felt his fingers on your arm. At first, you didn’t think anything of it until they ghosted over your shoulder and up your neck. He tucked your hair behind your ear, a habit he knew you did all the time.

It sent a wave of flustered heat through you, those dormant butterflies beating around.

Then, before you knew it, the words came bursting out.

“I like you.” You blurted, cheeks going hot and your heart racing under your ribs.

You didn’t give him time to say anything. “I… I like you, Mark. Really like you. I have for so long and I never said anything because our friendship means so much to me—”

The words died on your lips when he took them for himself.

His lips crashed into your, his body surging up. His hands settled beside your head but once he felt you kissing back, one of them slipped down to your waist. You couldn’t think of anything but him as his fingers curled into the silk, pulling you closer.

Kissing Mark was unlike any previous kiss. He knew when to use his tongue, when to angle his mouth to kiss you deeper.

It was an out of body experience. You couldn’t move your hands so he grabbed them, pinning them by your head as his mouth continued to move over yours.

Mark had spent so many restless nights thinking of this exact moment. He’d always imagined what you’d taste like, how warm you’d feel, how you’d respond to him.

But he never thought you’d kiss him back and admit you liked him for longer than he could’ve expected.

When your lungs felt like they were burning, you forcefully pulled your mouth away from his.

Mark chased your lips for a second before his forehead dropped to yours, breathing equally as hard.

There were so many things he wanted to say. But none of them could express how much he wanted this.

Once he caught his breath, he whispered, “was it too soon?”

You smiled a little, lips still kiss swollen and wet. “No. Not all. It’s been a long time coming.”

Mark returned your smile and brushed a thumb beneath your eye. He took in your flushed appearance, having a difficult time reminding himself that this wasn’t just a figment of his imagination anymore.

But you had to address why you had waited so long to tell him, even if he already knew.

With a sigh, you whispered, “what does this mean for us? Because I don’t think I can handle losing you.”

Mark loosened his grip on your hand before carefully laying beside you. He didn’t move far, propping himself up on his elbow and spanning his fingers over your stomach.

“I can’t make any promises that this’ll last,” he admitted honestly.

Every relationship he’d ever been in ended faster than he could keep up with. But he wanted this more than anything. He wanted you, all of you, not just your friendly care and affection.

When he saw the frown threatening your lips, he quickly continued. “But I want it to. More than you even know, princess. I’ve wanted you for a long time. But like you… I was too afraid to ruin us.”

You sat up slightly, wanting to be close to him. Your fingers brushed against his bicep.

“Then we don’t,” you said simply. “We won’t let it ruin us. Even if it doesn’t work out, we stay friends.”

Mark gave a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His hand went to your thigh, yanking you closer until you were draped over him now.

“That’s the problem. I don’t think I can just be friends with you anymore. Ever since law school, I always looked for you in the women I dated. But they weren’t you. They could never be you.”

His confession made your eyes soften, your heart feeling warm like he was holding it in the palms of his hands.

“Well then,” you said, shifting to rest your head on his chest. “I’m staying right here forever. I’m not sharing anymore.”

Mark chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. “Neither am I. I’m not letting you go ever again. No matter how many court room tantrums you throw.”

With a smile, you buried your face in his neck. “You must like me for me then.”

He pressed a kiss to your head with a soft hum. “Always.”

[lvely-prose]

— just keep watching | F1 AU

pairings: f1 driver dex x fem! reader

synopsis: dex was his team’s star driver. his need for order came in the way he could handle a race car, in how he could push to first place all by himself. everyone loved him. until you came along as his new teammate.

word count: 9.8k

warnings/content: dex is kind of a bully, rivals to lovers, tension. implied car sex, aggressive making out, me acting like i know what i’m talking about (unfortunately i’m a poser)

pae speaks ~ got this idea from beautiful art by @sun-snatcher !! i don’t know a lot about f1 so please bear with me. i might rewrite this at a later date but i hope you enjoy <3

The track was alive as ever. Engines revved loudly, tires screeched against the track, the crowds were wild as they cheered on their favorite driver. It was the place to be. Anticipation buzzed through the air as the race cars whizzed by in blurs of red and white.

Dex sat comfortably within the confines of his vehicle, breathing steadily as though he were the only racer on the road.

Outside the lights blurred in streaks as he kept his foot on the pedal, hands gripping the trembling wheel as he took a sharp turn and prevented himself from spinning out.

Everything else was irrelevant to him as he sped forward, passing others without any remorse.

Winning was all that mattered.

He had been the fastest driver for years now. It was all he did. Training day in and day out, keeping his body in mint condition and his joints oiled. Precision mattered more to him on the track than anything else did. His mental illness didn’t seem to exist when he was pushing 160mph, the world nothing but the roar of the motor and his breathing. Benjamin Poindexter had been F1’s reigning champion for so long that winning was practically second nature by now.

The fastest man alive, some would say.

Dex liked that the tabloids knew what he was. Seemed to be the only time they told the truth.

As the last lap came around, he glanced at his rear view mirror, glimpsing a sleek Mercedes. Mentally he eye rolled.

His fingers tightened around the wheel before pulling on one of the paddle shifters, changing his gear at the last minute.

His tires touched the finish line right as the Mercedes gained on him.

The acknowledgement of his victory happened just as it usually did. He took his victory lap before pulling into the garage and weighed in. Everything else went by quickly as he received his trophy and stood on the podium, sticky with champagne, smile a mix of smugness and gratefulness like he had already been standing there since he was racing. The interviews were a blur, his lines rehearsed.

Dex liked the glory but he loved the sport more.

His team congratulated him, shaking his shoulders and slapping their hands against his back. His smile stayed on his lips but fell around his eyes.

“You did it again, Dex,” the team principal, Elliot, grinned, placing a firm hand on his arm.

Dex gave a firm nod, tugging his racing gloves off. “You know it.” He winked.

Not of letting go of his arm, Elliot angled his body away from him. “Before your manager drags you off to some party, I must deliver the news that Matt has quit. His injuries are serious and he won’t be able to drive anymore.”

The news should’ve knocked the wind out of Dex. Matt Murdock had been his teammate for years now, the man slower and not as skilled as Dex in most areas. They both had handled their wins and losses differently but both racked up points for Red Bull.

But if his closest rival couldn’t drive anymore, that meant Matt would no longer be something holding the team back.

“That’s really hard,” Dex replied, knocking back a sip of cold water from a bottle someone slipped him.

“Yeah,” Elliot said with a sigh before he brightened back up. “But we were prepared and signed in a new contract with your new teammate.”

Dex furrowed his brows. How did they manage to already get another driver so fast?

Elliot extended an arm towards the group. “Here she is.”

That’s when he saw you.

Dex watched as your hips swayed as you made your way over to them, a kind smile already plastered on your face. You wore a black bomber jacket with the Red Bull symbol on it along with other sponsoring patches and words. Your hair was down, fluttering around your shoulders from the breeze drifting into the garage.

He was so focused on examining you that he didn’t notice you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Benjamin, isn’t it?” You asked, voice high in that friendly way people put on for show.

Dex finally blinked, outstretching his own hand. “I go by Dex,” he said bluntly, long fingers curving around yours. The handshake was firm, him already trying to assert his position to the new rookie.

You gave a small, polite laugh and gave your name with an apology for getting his wrong.

Elliot was grinning ear to ear. “First competitive female F1 driver in over 30 years. Can you believe that?”

Dex watched as you smiled at Elliot. It made his jaw clench. He’d only read stories about women drivers in the past and he’d always held a respect for them. He didn’t doubt you’d be a good driver but he didn’t like the prospect of his new teammate being so new to the sport. But he wouldn’t let you slow him down.

“Wow,” he said, tracing your face. You were being too nice. He didn’t trust people who were too nice. Not in such a competitive sport like F1 racing.

Your smile was too confident for a rookie. Rookies were usually nervous around him, as it should be. But clearly you weren’t.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you said with the slight tilt of your head. “F1’s toughest to beat.”

He tipped his chin up, only subtly. “Does that make you nervous?”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t drop your smile. “Should it?”

Yes. “No.”

“Good.”

Elliot clapped his hands together. “I have a good feeling about you two. Gonna make me proud.”

You turned your gaze back on Dex and found him already staring into your skull.

“Yes, we are.”

But somewhere in the stirring tension, you both knew that there was going to be a big problem.

On Friday for practice, you weren’t going to show anyone your full potential. Not until you knew they’d all be watching. Clearly your new teammate was cocky and you didn’t blame him.

You’d read about Benjamin Poindexter in several articles over the years. So when you got a contract with Red Bull, it was slightly intimidating. But you knew your skills, your limits, how far you could go and when to take a step back. Even while taking it seriously, you let yourself have fun.

Unlike a certain someone.

Dex had barely looked at you since he arrived. Every word was clipped, cold, short.

You understood that at the end of the day you were his rival and he was yours. But he seemed to be taking it to the extreme.

The qualifying rounds on Saturday were easy. It also showed you up close how good Dex truly was. But it didn’t intimidate you in the slightest. No matter how good someone was, there was always someone who was better.

When Sunday came, you were ready. The team was very helpful, making sure you were well prepared and hydrated. This was your first Grand Prix and all you wanted was to leave a long lasting impression. First place was ideal but realistically, there were many other amazing drivers on that track who deserved it just as much.

Once fitted into your racing uniform, gloves secured, you put on your game face and squared your shoulders.

You let out a deep exhale, rolling your wrists and neck before your eyes landed on the one driver who still made it his life’s mission to ignore you.

He wasn’t going to get away with it. Not anymore.

“Hey!” You said, trying to grab his attention as you jogged over to him.

Pretending he didn’t hear you, he just zipped up his racing suit and threw back some water. Dex didn’t need you to try and get into his head or give him some sort of pep talk.

You slowed to a walk as you got closer. “Excuse me? I’m trying to talk to you.”

Finally, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer, he looked at you, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. “Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

You didn’t flinch. If he wanted to do it this way then you would welcome it. No point in trying to be friendly anymore if he had already decided to not want anything to do with you.

“Too bad,” you said, having to speak over the roar of engines now. “I’ll gladly go down this road with you, Dex, but I just wanted to say that I hope you have a good race.”

He nearly scoffed, turning away from you. “Don’t waste your breath, rookie. There’s only room for one of us out there.”

You watched as he retreated and frustration flared through your veins. He wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain for you anymore.

But if he wanted to play that way, you’d be willing to be a pawn.

After the National Anthem, you got settled into your vehicle. It felt nice, smoothing your fingers over the interior and getting a feel for the space you’d be in for the next few hours.

The race engineer headed over to you accompanied by Elliot.

You looked up at him through the open visor of your helmet.

“Your first race. How you feeling?” He asked.

You grinned. “Amazing.”

Elliot returned your wide grin. “That’s what I like to hear. You do good out there, okay?”

You gave him a salute and a wink before they called for the formation lap. You released a breath, letting the anxiety roll off of you as you gripped the wheel. “We got this.”

Over the loud speakers, you heard them announcing Red Bull’s new Formula One driver.

You.

The first competitive female racer in over 30 years, on the younger side, prepared to knock the socks of the crowd. Everything you told the press pretty much.

You were positioned somewhere in the middle of the initial formation, feeling your heart start to beat with anticipation.

Up ahead at the very front was Dex. You could only see his car but just knowing he was inside it made you annoyed. The fastest man alive was about to have a reality check.

Once the lights flashed, it was off to the races.

Your foot hit the pedal, peeling off after the people in front of you.

The world went quiet.

There was only you and the car and the winding track.

Every opening your eyes landed on, you took it. You sped past the other drivers, weaving through them.

“Come on, girl,” you whispered to the car, putting your trust in the vehicle you’d spent days testing and getting to know like it was an extension of your body.

It wasn’t long before you were on Dex’s tail. It was only the beginning of the race but you wished so badly you could’ve seen the look of shock on his face.

Multiple voices were coming in through the radio, you replying with short sentences. The team was good, really good. They were setting you up for success but you also knew they were doing the same thing with Dex.

It was a smooth race for the most part. Except for the fact that Dex was awfully good at staying up front.

On the last lap, you felt alive. Your first real race and you felt accomplished.

The world came back to you as soon as your tires crossed the line.

Once you got out of the car, you ripped off your helmet and balaclava and smiled wide. People were cheering, clapping in the stands, all because of you.

Standing up on that podium felt so amazing. Like everything you ever dreamed of.

You were clapping for everyone, for yourself, smiling widely as you received your third place trophy. You felt like you were on top of the world. Nothing could ruin that for you now.

You went back to your team. They were already cracking open drinks, even though you were drenched in champagne and sweat.

Then Dex came in with his first place glory.

But he didn’t look like he just won anything.

He stormed in, fuming. The deep scar slashing through his cheek was pulled taut, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. He didn’t stop until he was up in your face, the room growing tense as they took in his clear disdain for whatever he was mad at.

“What the hell was that?” He seethed, voice low and dangerous.

You stared up at him, your smile fading. “What was what?”

“Those stunts you pulled were reckless. Did you not see that car on that turn?”

Your face morphed with confusion. “I’m sorry? I didn’t get any penalties or break any rules.”

“Maybe not but you could’ve cost us.”

Bitter frustration made your eyes harden. “I don’t know what your problem is with me but if you think this is going to get me to leave, you’re wrong. I’m here to stay, Benjamin. I’m a good driver and you know it. You’re just afraid I’m better than you.”

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

Dex stared at you, a simmering rage bubbling below the surface. He couldn’t believe you had the audacity to waltz in here and then accuse him of being intimidated by you.

Elliot immediately sensed the heat and jumped in. “Okay, that’s enough. Get your asses out of here before you rip each other’s throat out.”

Fed up, you turned away but Dex kept his eyes pinned on you until you were out of sight.

Who does he think he is? You thought as you changed out of your driving suit, knowing you were supposed to be on a jet to Spain within a few hours. You were upset that your racing career was practically riding on the fact that your teammate hated the idea of actually working together for the benefit of the team. You didn’t have to like each other but there was no mutual respect.

Later the next day, you were eating some healthy snack your assistant brought, scrolling through your phone when you came across a new video. Dex was there, that cocky smile pulling at his lips.

You set the spoon down into the bowl, locking in on the interviewer’s questions.

“So, Dex, you must be getting tired of winning with all these races you keep running.”

He somehow grinned wider, hands on his hips. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to do it without the engineers. But at the end of the day, it comes down to the driver in the seat.”

“Of course. Bet Red Bull gives themselves a pat on the back for signing you in. Speaking of which, we just spoke to your teammate.”

You ground your jaw together as you thought about the interview they had you do after the race. You were on cloud nine, having trouble expressing your feelings of being able to get the podium on your first race. Looking back, you wished you’d written a short speech beforehand but you weren’t like Dex—you didn’t bet on yourself winning.

The camera captured the moment where his grin almost slipped at the mention of you.

“And what’d she say?”

“She was overjoyed at her win. How do you, reigning champion, feel about this?”

Dex looked at a point in the distance before back at the interviewer. “Third place must be exciting for a rookie. Especially on her first race. But I might just call that luck.”

“You just said it came down to the person in the car.”

You let out a little snort, feeling immense satisfaction in the person for using his words against him.

Dex chuckled and it irked you how unfazed he seemed. “Exactly.”

Then it hit you as to what he was insinuating.

Before you could react by tossing your phone across the room, your mother walked in. She was side eyeing you as she entered, giving you that motherly look that told you she knew something was wrong.

“You seem pretty agitated for a girl who just got third place in the F1 standings.”

You took a deep breath but your body stayed tense. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

She gave a bored, unamused look. “Really? Cause your gripping your phone like you’re the Hulk.”

You glanced down at the way your knuckles were white from how hard you were holding the device. With a groan, you let it fall to the counter and put your head in your hands.

Your mother didn’t pry. Just nonchalantly opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass.

Finally, you sighed. “Did I make a mistake?”

“By throwing your thousand dollar phone on the granite countertop?”

“Mom.”

“What?” She asked, pouring in some orange juice. “I can’t read minds, you know.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, shoulders slumping. “By signing up with Red Bull.”

She looked at you over the glass as she took a sip. “You think you living out your dream is a mistake?”

You gave an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe.”

A loud clink sounded as she practically slammed the cup on the counter. “It’s because of that man, isn’t it? Poindexter?”

How she always knew what was bugging you, you had no idea. But because she was right, you found no use in dodging the situation anymore.

“He called me a bad driver. That my score was only because of luck.”

She gave a laugh but it lacked any humor. “Really now?”

“Well, the first part wasn’t explicitly stated but clearly he was hinting at it. He basically told everyone that it was only a one time thing.”

This time, her expression hardened. She seemed to be reeling in her anger before taking a deep breath and speaking. “You know me, I don’t believe in luck. What you did out there on that track, that was a talent only few have.”

“Was it, though? I mean, that was my first race and I got third place, momma. Third! Do you know how unlikely that is?” You asked, almost exasperated.

You were disappointed and mad at yourself for letting Dex get into your head. You’d known him for four days now and you were already letting his poor sportsmanship get to you.

Your mother looked deep into your eyes. “That’s because you are a good driver and anyone watching knows that. That Dex guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

As you went to open your mouth, she quickly shut it.

“And I didn’t raise a girl who put her worth in a man. Especially one as arrogant as that.”

Her words landed hard. She was right. You had never let a man stop you or let them push you around. You held your ground and let them move around you.

Which was exactly what you were going to do.

After a week of relentless training, you were more than ready for race weekend. You blew right through qualifications, giving yourself a starting position of P5. Better than the last time.

Dex was at Pole Position, as usual. But you weren’t going to let him stay there.

Once the red lights turned off, all engines roared to life.

You had a new strategy this time—let him wear himself out.

But halfway through, you realized that was going to be a little more difficult than you thought.

You shifted gears on a turn, glancing at your rearview mirror before narrowing your eyes on the track ahead. His car was right there and he was doing everything to keep you from passing.

Dex gritted his teeth. Don’t drive angry he kept repeating to himself. His skills required focus, strategy, not whatever reckless feelings you were pulling from him.

His sharp eyes flicked to your car in his rearview.

“You’re fast, I’ll give you that,” he muttered to himself before deciding to take a tight turn.

You took the turn wide, giving him time to put distance between the two of you.

Dex grinned to himself.

But you learned to never celebrate too early.

You saw how his tires were wearing out, causing him to lose speed. You had needed him to focus on you and not the state of his wheels. When his team deemed it necessary for a change, it put you right where you wanted to be.

Dex didn’t let the pit stop delay him any.

He caught up quickly but this time, you were quicker.

The whole race stayed pretty close between the two Red Bull cars but you managed to beat Benjamin Poindexter at his own game.

You placed first.

He placed second.

That never happened.

On the podium, you didn’t look at him no matter how tempting it was to see his forced smile. You had just beat the multiple-time world champion and you wouldn’t let anyone or anything ruin your accomplishment.

Elliot whooped when you entered the garage. “That’s what I talk about!”

“I did it!” You cheered with everyone, beaming as they patted your back and squeezed your shoulders.

Then, the mood shifted as soon as Dex arrived.

That’s when you finally looked in his direction.

Beneath his perfectly crafted stoicism, you saw the rage burning in his eyes like a scalding blue flame. He couldn’t accept defeat. Even coming in second place felt like last. Not when he was so thoroughly beaten by the rookie. The one who’d been here for two weeks and already had kicked him off his number one spot on the podium.

He didn’t care if it was still good for the team. It ran deeper than that for him.

It was personal now.

You half expected him to blow up on you, to get in your face like he did last time. But he didn’t.

So, to add fuel to the fire, you sent a wink in his direction before being dragged away for the interview.

And Dex? Oh he was starting to spiral.

He’d put his blood, sweat, and tears into racing. His career was everything to him. His North Star. What guided him when it felt like he had nothing else. On the track with the wind behind him, it was like nothing ever could matter more than knowing he hit the bullseye every time.

Now you, a girl who had just gotten there and already was becoming a challenge for him, made his blood boil.

He never minded a challenge. In fact, he welcomed it because he knew he was that good.

But being replaced was what scared him more than anything.

As Dex soaked in a cold ice bath to soothe his aching muscles, he thought back to the unwelcome surge of frustration he felt on the track.

It made him feel out of control. And an out of control driver meant an uncontrolled car.

His fingers curled into a tight fist and a huff of air escaped him.

No. No. No.

He wouldn’t let you get to him. Not like this. You were just a rookie, an obstacle in his way.

And Benjamin Poindexter came after those willing to cross his path.

DEX LOSING HIS EDGE?

Race after race after race and Red Bull has gained more traction than ever before. With their multiple-time world champion Ben Poindexter, they also seemed to have uncovered a hidden gem in the racing world.

Read to find out more!

The headline came in after Australia. You’d taken first place yet again. The season was mid-way through and it seemed the tabloids only cared about the obvious rivalry between Red Bull’s rookie and their star driver.

Dex avoided you for the most part.

He didn’t bring you up in interviews unless he was asked about you (which he was almost every time). There was no trash talk, only facts. But that didn’t stop him from being rude to your face.

Dex wasn’t one for bragging about his wins, his experience, or his success. But he made it known that he didn’t like you. Which you did right back.

And yet, he stayed up late most nights, studying your lap times and what strategies you seemed to use to figure out just how you were beating him by only a tenth of a second.

His eyes followed every moment you took a turn, every subtle change in speed.

Every detail counted.

That was his excuse when he basically started to stalk you on the internet.

Any social media platform you were on, he found it. Every article written about you, he read it. He watched every interview or podcast you’d been featured on, learned about your close relationship with your mom, and found out that you’d been driving since you were very young.

Dex stored away every minuscule detail into his memory. Anything that’d help him strike a nerve or give him an advantage on the track.

He still very much disliked you but now he felt as though he had a more valid reason for it.

The day before race weekend started, the team was piled into a press room. Cameras and reporters stood all around, getting every angle possible.

This was the first time you were being interviewed alongside him.

And everyone knew it was going to go terribly.

Elliot had been stressing all day, afraid his two drivers were going to make the team seem like a laughing stock on live television. It didn’t matter how media trained you two were, he knew just how venomous your words could be.

Dex sat with his arms folded on the table in front of him, expression unreadable.

His back was killing him. The giant scar on his spine was aching dully, not a lot but just enough to cause him pain. Just enough to make him more irritable.

Beside him, you sat with your hands in your lap with a smile on your face.

This was your first Formula One podium appearance and you had no reason to be upset.

The moderator looked at the crowd. “Congratulations to both of these lovely drivers. Floor is now open to questions.”

Immediately, hands flew into the air.

Elliot did the job of picking people to ask whatever burning questions they had.

The first few were easy enough. Nothing to spark an argument or debate over something silly.

Until one reporter had to break the streak.

“I have a question for Dex.”

His brows raised as if he hadn’t expected it (he did) and leaned forward slightly. “Yes?”

“Your partner has finished ahead of you for the last three races. Do you have concerns with becoming the number two driver on the team?”

Silence quickly settled. Heavy. Full of anticipation. And underlying frustrations.

Some of the reporters leaned in, microphones and cameras honed in on him.

You nearly wanted to roll your eyes.

Dex, on the other hand, sat eerily still. He didn’t blink. Didn’t toss you a glance.

Just… smiled. The scar on his cheek moved with it.

“No.”

“Even with her recent standings?”

His head finally turned towards you. “She’s fast,” he said, the admission surprising everyone.

Especially you.

“But,” he continued, “a few good races don’t define the rest of the season.”

There it was again. Challenge.

Dex couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he stared into your eyes, watching how they flickered with annoyance. A taste of your own medicine, he thought.

The tension stirred and settled heavy over the room. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. Elliot had a hand at his mouth, physically holding himself back from intervening.

The reporter didn’t catch the hint. “So you’re saying she hasn’t proven herself yet?”

Dex gave a subtle shrug of his massive shoulders. “What I’m saying is that she’s new. Anything’s possible.”

You snorted.

The reporter noticed and turned to you. “What do you have to say to that?”

You leaned forward. “What do I have to say?”

You turned your body towards him, speaking directly to him instead of the camera since he decided to talk about you like you weren’t there.

“I think you’re scared,” you said with unwavering certainty. “I think you think no one can beat you.”

Dex stared right back at you.

Everyone held tense, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you.

He didn’t say anything for a minute.

You smiled sweetly, knowing you hit a nerve. “Am I right?”

His fingers curled again and he heard a high pitched whine enter his ears. “No comment.”

The room exploded with laughter and whispers.

Your heady gazes lingered on each other before you sat back in your seat, happy knowing you managed to get under his skin in front of the press.

Elliot caught Dex’s eyes, slowly shaking his head with a look that said do not engage. Don’t make it worse.

Another reporter stood up. “So are we looking at a championship between teammates?”

You went to speak.

Dex quickly beat you to it. “If she can keep up.”

More laughter erupted and this time, it was Dex’s turn to feel smug.

You turned towards him again, making Elliot hold back the urge to facepalm.

“Keep up?”

Something glimmered in his eyes. Amusement this time.

“You heard me.”

Camera clicked faster. Every journalist present knew tomorrow’s headline, probably already writing their whole story at this point.

But you didn’t take your eyes off of him and he didn’t take his off of you. For the first time since you met him, you realized that he actually might enjoy fighting with you.

And you weren’t too far from the truth.

Madrid was a close one. You got knocked back down to the third place after a car malfunction but you couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with how Dex had talked about you in the interview.

Nothing had changed since the last time. He genuinely believed it was only luck making you win, that your wins were only because you were new.

So when Elliot decided to drag you to a party to boost your mood, you went without question.

For the past few months you’d been so hard on yourself. You pushed yourself to the limit, making sure you put all of your effort into each and every race. You wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it. That you were there because you were talented and you wanted to see your dream out the best you could.

But deep down, you knew you were also trying to prove to Dex that you were meant to be there.

And it was exhausting.

Which was why you decided to get dolled up and let loose for a few hours without him breathing down your neck about how he was such a better driver.

You wore a blue satin dress that dipped at the chest to expose an array of gold necklaces, pairing it with some black red bottom heels. You did your own makeup and hair, sprayed your perfume, and left the hotel to meet Elliot.

He was already in the club by the time you arrived, talking with some other big name people you didn’t know.

Since he seemed to be in his own world, you left him to his own devices and went to grab a drink.

The bass thumped through the floor of the elaborate room, girls spinning in hoops overhead and people literally blowing fire into their drinks. It was a place to get lost in, revelry meant for celebration over just about anything.

Crystal draped chandeliers clinked above, the place lit up by bright LEDs. You found yourself smiling at how lively it was. Everyone was dressed in their finery, gold chains and Rolexes glittering in the lights.

You knocked back some fancy drink with a kebab of fruit in it. It tasted delicious and you immediately asked for another one.

Your hips swayed as you moved through the crowd, smiling at nothing into your wide-rimmed glass.

Here there was no competition. No stress over the next race.

No Dex.

Just the thought of him at a party like this made you laugh to yourself.

At some point, you got whisked away into a crowd of dancing people. Some of them recognized you and were fangirling over you, snapping photos that you happily posed for—usually with your tongue out or giving a wink.

You felt lighter here, like the racing world was a lifetime away and was waiting for you for whenever you felt like returning to.

A Tate McRae song came on and you squealed. “I love this song!”

Yet, somehow, midway through it someone latched onto your waist and pulled you into their orbit.

You looked up at a man you’d seen a few times. He was a driver, you realized. Competition. But it wasn’t Dex so you just smiled and let him dance with you.

“You’re the new champion, right?” He yelled over the music.

“Huh?!” You shouted back through a grin.

He repeated himself and you beamed, the alcohol making you more outgoing. “Yes! I am! I did that. Can you believe that?”

He laughed before tracing his fingers down your neck. “No! Being beaten by a woman is not very nice on the ego.”

That immediately made you snap out of whatever careless behavior you’d fallen into.

You put a hand on his shoulder, pushing slightly. “Well, good thing I don’t care about your ego!”

“Hey, hey,” he said, his fingers tightening on your waist. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

You cut him a glare. “I don’t want to entertain this conversation anymore. Please let go of me now, thank you!”

His grip only tightened. “Come on, I—”

“That wasn’t a suggestion!” You shouted before shoving him off, silently thanking all of your relentless training for the strong biceps you’d acquired.

As soon as you turned around, you ran into something hard. Solid as a rock. This time when you looked up, you immediately shook your head. “Nope,” you said, going to walk away but he was quicker.

Dex tugged you back to him. “Don’t fight me,” he said lowly, only meant for your ears.

He was wearing a dark blue shirt, nearly matching your dress, the fabric hugging his broad frame. His hair wasn’t styled and he wore a single, thin chain around his neck.

Damn it, he looked and smelled good. Too bad he’s the most annoying man to ever exist, you thought.

You gave an irritated huff, not wanting to make a bigger scene. “Dex, I swear if you’re only doing this to scare off that guy—”

Dex turned so his massive back was facing the guy who was still grumbling about your rejection. “I don’t care about him. He was just using you to gain some popularity.”

You scoffed. “Wow, I couldn’t have guessed.”

He kept his face stoic, eyes avoiding yours even as he kept his hand respectful on your waist. “What are you doing here?”

Your hands came up to rest on his chest even though you wanted to sucker punch him. “That’s a question I should be asking you.”

Without looking down, he said, “you’re wearing my color.”

“Really? Your color?”

“My color.” He confirmed.

“Whatever. Answer my question.”

He released a heavy breath. “Elliot made me come.”

That made your eyes widen. Was this a ploy the entire time? To get you two to warm up to each other?

“Shocking, we have something in common.” You said over the music and that’s when you watched it dawn on him.

Dex finally looked down at you, a subtle furrow between his brows. “He set us up?”

“That’s what it seems like,” you replied, trying to shield your face with your hair in case anyone decided to take an incriminating photo of Red Bull’s rivals dancing together.

His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking. His grip tightened on your waist before loosening it almost immediately. “Damn it.”

You tilted your head slightly. “So why are you still dancing with me?”

His eyes narrowed, pinning you to the spot. It was a valid question. So he answered as best he could. “During the interview you said that I was scared. Now every F1 fan and driver out there thinks that.”

The smirk threatening your lips was too hard to contain. “Not my problem.”

Dex dipped his head lower, voice dropping. “Are you trying to ruin my image, huh? Cause if you are, you haven’t been here long and I can easily tear your reputation up if that’s where you wanna go.”

Despite the spike of fear of his words, you didn’t let it show that he was intimidating you. Instead, you put on a brave face and leaned in until you could feel his breath against your lips.

“Is that a threat, Dex?“

His eyes turned molten again. Both of you had stopped dancing, standing like two statues in the middle of a swarm of sweating bodies.

“No,” he said firmly. “It’s a promise.”

As you opened your mouth to retaliate, a fan skipped up. “Can I get your autographs please?”

You pulled back instantly but Dex was slower, clearly not caring about being seen with you in the public eye. With the kindest smile you could muster, you signed the girl’s picture of you.

Dex did it half-heartedly. He didn’t mind his fans but now was not the time for it.

As soon as she ran away to go tell her friends, you were walking in the opposite direction. You had come to have a good time and clearly that’s not what Elliot had intended. Talking with Dex was the last thing you wanted to do, let alone dance with him. He was attractive, too attractive, but that was exactly it.

You didn’t need him to do well with your career. You knew who you were and that was good enough for you.

Dex watched as you headed off, eyes locked on the satin blue of your dress as it moved with your every step. He quickly averted his gaze once you were gone but gosh, he couldn’t stand you.

And the worst part? He knew it wasn’t just because you were almost a better driver than him.

You were gorgeous, you had a family who supported you, you were hardworking, you had everyone in your corner.

Everything he wasn’t or didn’t have.

Dex wasn’t jealous—he deemed himself too old for that—but he wanted to be like you. He wanted what you had.

But he’d never say it to your face which was why demeaning you was easier.

On your way out, you somehow found Elliot and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the group of people he was talking with.

His white suit was pressed, no wrinkle in sight and his hair was slicked back. It almost bothered you how unaffected he looked.

“What are—”

“What is this?” You cut him off, pointing over at Dex who was trying to get over there himself.

A flash of recognition passed over his face. “What is what?”

Your eyes hardened and your jaw clenched. “You know what, Elliot. Don’t play dumb.”

He took a sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could blow up on him, you saw Dex approaching and quickly turned away to leave. You were angry. Furious, even. This time, more at Elliot than Dex which said a lot.

When Dex caught up, you were already gone. He stared at the door as he approached before stopping in front of Elliot, pinning him with a sharp glare.

“You know what her deal is?” Elliot asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Dex snapped. “You didn’t tell me or her, apparently, that you invited us both here.”

With a sigh, Elliot set his drink down. “Look, it’s no secret that you two have poor sportsmanship when it comes to each other. I was just trying to… fix that.”

“We don’t need fixing.” Dex fired back and before Elliot could say anymore, he was walking away.

As you broke out of the club into the humid air, you gulped down the freshness of it. How could he have the audacity to play dumb when he set you and Dex up to what? Get along? Reconcile your differences?

The walk to the hotel was quick and as soon as you got inside, you kicked off your heels and peeled off your dress, jumping into bed in only your underwear.

Race weekend began in a day and you weren’t sure your anger would dissipate anytime soon.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

It was raining on the day of the race, the sky shrouded in dark clouds as they rained down on the earth. You were a little worried about it since you’d never raced on a wet track before in front of thousands of people and cameras.

When you walked into the garage that day sipping on a Gatorade, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at either Dex or Elliot.

You couldn’t afford to drive angry, not today, especially in the rain. It required all of your focus and thinking about what happened wasn’t going to help.

After a team meeting, your mother came up to you. She brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You seem distracted.”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “I’m all good.”

“Hmm,” she hummed before zipping up your suit higher. “Anyone in here can feel the tension. What happened?”

“Mom.” You said firmly, looking her dead in the eye. “I don’t want to talk about it now. Go ask Elliot. If he’ll even give you an answer.”

Reluctantly, she pulled back but not before squeezing your shoulder. “Kill ‘em out there, sweetheart.”

Her words got you through the first half of the race. You stayed focused, listening intently to what your team was telling you to do. But just looking at Dex’s car made you frustrated.

“You’re wearing my color.”

You took a corner too sharp.

“I can easily tear your reputation up if that’s where you wanna go.”

You lost control of the car for only a split second, cursing under your breath as you straightened out.

“No. It’s a promise.”

His words were a ricochet through your head as you sped up, gritting your teeth as you weaved through the cars, speeding past him.

You remembered a quote from a movie—don’t think, just do.

That’s exactly what you were doing.

Suddenly, the argument didn’t exist. Elliot felt irrelevant. Dex’s voice went quiet.

It was just you and the car.

And a slight tap on your bumper to make you spin out of control.

Instantly, you got jostled around as you spun out, your tires slipping and sliding over the wet asphalt. The breath got knocked from your lungs as you hit the track barrier.

Your ears erupted with an insistent ringing as you sat there, winded and slightly shell shocked.

It wasn’t long before a group of people rushed to help, engineers and paramedics working to get you out of the crumpled wreckage.

You blinked, the sounds of other cars whizzing by and their voices finally entering your ears again.

“Can you hear us?”

“Can you move?”

“Is she injured?”

Your body felt achy but nothing too serious. You waved a hand. “I’m… I’m okay.”

That’s when your eyes landed on the other Red Bull car across the way. You watched as Dex got out of his burning vehicle, ripping his balaclava off, looking pissed off even though he did a good job of hiding it.

Then you realized what happened.

Your eyes narrowed and your skin felt too hot and too tight. He’s the one that hit you.

Whatever happened next was a blur for you. Your cars were totaled and a Red Flag was raised so they could clear the debris. But both of you were out of the race and there was nothing you could do about it.

The day dragged on but you never left the garage. You stayed sitting there with an ice pack on your shin, sipping on water while everyone cleared out.

No one said anything to you. You didn’t want to talk, feeling too embarrassed and angry.

Once mostly everyone had retreated elsewhere, you stepped outside for a moment to feel the moist air. It was raining slightly harder now, the heavy drops illuminated by the street lamps.

You looked up at the sky, now dark since night had fallen. Closing your eyes, you let the rain soak your face and took a deep breath.

You’re meant to be here. Younger you would be so proud of how far you’ve come.

The words cycled through your head and you weren’t sure if they were making you feel any better. You were angry for what Dex did. Everyone kept saying it was an accident, that he was on slick tires and that the rain made him lose control before he could make a pit stop.

But knowing him and how he seemed to do anything to beat you, it was hard to put it past him. If sabotaging your career was what it took to make him feel better than you found it was just something you had to accept.

The sound of feet scuffing behind you caught your attention.

You turned around slowly only to see the one person you didn’t want to.

Anger surged through you and you couldn’t stop yourself from walking right up to him. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” You shouted over the downpour, hands connecting with his sturdy chest.

Dex didn’t budge but that didn’t stop you.

“Are you trying to sabotage me?” You just about screamed, shoving harder. “Are you trying to get me out of here, is that it? Well, let me tell you what, Dex, I’m not going anywhere!”

You stepped back, breathing hard from your exasperated state.

His face was unreadable as usual. Almost like he was carved from stone. For a long moment he didn’t say anything, the rain pounding around the two of you.

You scoffed. “Yeah. Of course. Don’t say anything because you know I’m right.”

Dex remained still until finally he spoke up. “What happened today was a technical malfunction—”

“Oh don’t you fucking dare try that bullshit on me,” you snapped. “Everyone saw the footage! You saw a chance to get me out of the race and you took it!”

“It took me out, too,” Dex said firmly, the tension in his neck prominent. “Why would I do that to myself, huh?”

“I don’t know!” You replied honestly. You were starting to scare yourself because you were going for blood now. He always knew where to poke at you and now you finally found where he was weakest.

You took a single, slow step forward. “Does it have something to do with your accident?”

His entire body seemed to lock up.

But you didn’t relent.

“Yeah, I know about that. They said you’d never drive again and yet here you are, Formula One’s best driver. The fastest man alive. Now you’re terrified someone is going to take your place.”

Dex stared at you, unnervingly calm even though you saw his rage simmering in his eyes.

You knew you should probably be afraid. But right now? You wanted him to feel your anger.

Weeks ago you’d found out about his crash. The scar on his cheek was the most visible reminder but you read about the spinal surgery they had to do to fix his back. It took years off his career and now it made so much more sense as to why he was clinging so hard to his titles and position as Red Bull’s star driver.

Your chest heaved, hair plastered to your neck as you stared at him. “Say something!”

Dex broke.

He surged forward, getting in your face. “Fine. I ran you off the track and got myself a penalty. I did that and I don’t care that I did.”

“But why?” You said, refusing to back down. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

Dex didn’t say it out loud. He’d never admit that he was scared. Scared that he would be replaced. Scared that you would become something more to him than his rival. But the last part was already true.

Dex hated himself for it. He couldn’t stand the fact that he had grown attached to you driving alongside him. After months of watching your interviews and seeing you interact with people, Dex wanted that. He was in awe of how understanding you were, how easily you dealt with losses like you’d just try harder the next time. You were determined and still managed to stay calm.

And the more he watched, the harder it became to act as if he hated you for being better than him.

He hated that you could see straight through him. Like he was a glass wall and all his secrets were horribly hidden behind it.

Except for one.

The rain seemed to only pour harder, making you squint your eyes up at him. “Tell me why, Dex, and I will—”

His lips crashed onto yours before you could finish.

His hands were at your face, holding onto you like you’d run away and disappear from the face of the earth.

You stood frozen, not sure what to do or how to react. A thousand signals fired at once and you pulled away, your body reacting before your mind could.

He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

You stared into his eyes, breathing heavier before kissing him even harder. Your hands cupped his face as his tongue slipped between your lips and you both groaned.

His hands settled on your waist, no gentleness in sight. Just raw passion and pent up tension that had nowhere to go except in a physical form.

Your nails subtly dug into his skin and he groaned again at the sharp pain zipping through his scar. “I hate you,” you murmured barely against his lips.

Dex slid his hands to the backs of yours thighs and hauled you off your feet, forcing your legs around him. “I know,” he murmured back.

Even as he laid you down in the back of his sports car, you didn’t let up on your statement.

Nothing about it was gentle or careful. It was all skin and heat and desire clashing with months of frustration and anger towards the other.

His lips were all over you, sucking and nipping at your neck.

“I… I really hate you, Dex.” You repeated, pushing and pulling at his broad shoulders that took up nearly the entire backseat.

“Uh huh,” he rasped out even as he pulled off your shirt, reaching for your pants next. He was so consumed by your heat, wanting to take you apart like you’d already been doing to him for months now.

His lips crashed back to yours, the windows fogging up almost instantly.

“Really…” a hard kiss to your lips.

“Fucking…” a sharp nip to your bottom lip.

“Hate…” his fingers dug into your waist.

“You…” his hips snapped into yours.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Ending up naked in the back of Benjamin Poindexter’s car was the last thing you had ever expected. Actually, it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Yet here you were, tangled up with him. There was a delicious ache in your hips and thighs, your lips kiss bitten and swollen. All because of the man who was supposed to be your rival.

The backseat was not nearly big enough for him let alone the two of you but you made it work.

You laid on his chest, his head propped up against the door and his legs bent at the knee. His skilled fingers trailed softly over your smooth spine—he hadn’t felt one in so long.

The rain had slowed to a steady patter on the roof, nearly pulling you into sleep.

“I still hate you,” you said quietly but now it didn’t hold so much weight.

Dex let out a gruff laugh, the sound rumbling his chest beneath your ear. “I know.”

Slowly, you slid your hand to the back of his neck before your fingers dipped just a little further down. They found the jagged flesh of his spinal scar.

He let out a shaky breath as you carefully touched the sensitive skin.

You pulled your head back just a little to look at him. “When… when you first started racing, did you think of the consequences?” You asked softly.

A long moment of silence stretched before he answered. “Things happen. Every driver out there knows anything could go wrong at any given second. Hydraulic failure, slick track, tire degradation, collisions… we know it can and will happen sooner or later. We’re all doing the same thing out there. Best not to let it get in your head.”

You let out a single laugh. “Well, I think we both should take that into consideration.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. His dark eyes roamed over your face before his rough fingers brushed some hair behind your ear despite his attempts to act indifferent.

Your eyes softened a little. “So, what do we do now?”

The question he’d been dreading to answer. Not because he didn’t know but because after months of watching you, gathering information on how you were as a driver to who you were as a person, Dex couldn’t bring himself to let you go now.

He’d smelled the shampoo in your hair, tasted the sweetness of your lips, felt the warmth of your body. He knew you as a woman, not just his rival on the track.

“No one can know,” he answered, voice gravelly. “It’d have to be our own little secret.”

A small smile touched your lips. “I can do secrets.”

And you did.

Hiding whatever new feelings you had for your teammate was pretty easy. The team didn’t suspect a thing since you and Dex still put up a good front. Yelling after a race, radio silence on off days, avoiding each other. Everything felt as it was. Only now, he snuck into your hotel room, stole kisses when no one was looking, and messaged you every thought he came up with about you.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, the two of you. But since it did, keeping your relationship secret had become one of your top priorities.

For Dex, it wasn’t that simple.

He had been obsessed with you since he started stalking you on the internet. He was fascinated by how you drove, how passionate you were about the sport. Now that he could express it, it was all he wanted to do.

It was a hot day in Montréal. You were going over strategy with your car engineers when you saw Dex.

He was standing across the room in his driving suit, his broad back towards you. Oracle was written across his back with two red bull’s beneath it. He was tossing a ball between his hands, rolling his neck in preparation for the race.

The images that flashed through your mind were far from PG-13. You’d always thought he was attractive but now it was just a straight up distraction.

Heat spread down between your legs that had nothing to do with the weather. It was almost embarrassing how much he affected you still, even now when you clearly didn’t hate him as much as you said you did.

Before they called for the formation lap, you walked up to him, expression neutral.

Dex spotted you immediately even though he knew he was still supposed to act like he wanted nothing to do with you.

“What do you want?” He snapped, feeling Elliot’s eyes on him.

“Nothing,” you replied, even though you reached past him to grab a rag. In doing so, you let your chest skim his only subtly. But you heard the change in his breathing, felt him go tense.

You pulled back just as quickly and walked away like nothing happened. Because to anyone else, it didn’t.

But to Dex? Oh he was going to get you back for that.

You won first place in Montréal after a tough race. It always felt most accomplishing to bag a win when the odds were fair and there was some challenge presented.

After the race and the team dinner, you ended up in your hotel room with Dex.

He was lying next to you on the fancy sheets, kissing on your neck as you replied to emails. It was fairly distracting but you didn’t mind.

Finally once you were done, you laid down beside him with a smug smile. “I beat you. Again.”

Dex returned your smile and settled a hand on your waist, tugging you closer. “I’ll have you know that I let you win.”

“Oh, please,” you said, throwing your head back dramatically before sitting up on your elbow. “Anyone could’ve passed me and they didn’t. Including you.”

He sighed loudly, rolling onto his back and practically yanking you onto his lap. “Yeah, yeah.”

You balanced your hands on his chest. With a raise of your brows you replied, “Yeah, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed lowly, his fingers rubbing slow circles into your hips through your spandex shorts. “Because I could’ve passed you if I wanted to.”

“Shut it.” You said, playfully slapping his chest.

He caught your wrist, bringing it to his lips and giving a gentle kiss. The small action made your heart skip. “Fine. I relent. You won fair and square.”

A grin lifted your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You leaned down and kissed him deeply, Dex letting out a low hum. His hand slid up your back, the other tangling in your hair.

Before it could get too heated, he pulled back just a bit to whisper against your lips, “who’s the better driver?”

You smiled, tracing his scar. “Me, of course. Don’t forget it.”

He chuckled, fingers playing with the soft strands. “I won’t argue. Yet.”

You laughed softly before silence crept in but it wasn’t awkward or filled with tension. It was instead filled with all the unspoken words and feelings neither of you knew how to express.

You went from hating each other to this—mutual respect that also came with shared late night hotel visits.

It was several steps up from the yelling and fighting you had long since grown tired of.

The two of you could always fight for first place and get into arguments during interviews but there was something there now that neither of you could ignore. He wanted to be like you and you admired his skills and instead of hating each other for it, you respected each other.

Even with your competitive streak, Dex wanted this.

As long as he could keep up.

Hi!! Here’s the amazing artwork that inspired this fic <3 (not mine!! all credits go to the mention above!!)

[firehart9]

I love Dex fanartists but we need to stop with the Dex belly erasure. He has abs, yes, but he also has some tummy. Both can be true. Please stop drawing him only rock hard and skinny, you are starving him 😔

[lvely-prose]

— wild one

pairings: shane maguire x fem! reader

synopsis: yosemite held so many secrets. thousands of stories were held within those ancient trees, whispers of those lost in the breeze. then there was you—the forest girl. completely wild and untamed. you were good at hiding, at running, just like a forest animal. but you weren’t the only one who thrived in the wilderness.

word count: 10.4k

warnings/content: unspecified legal age gap, fluff, hunter x prey trope, slow burn but storyline is kind of fast paced (?), blood, injuries, switch pov, mentions of death, inexperienced reader but not naive, suggestive content, descriptive making out, implied intimacy (non-descriptive oral f!receiving), mentions of nudity

pae speaks ~ i just watched untamed and i absolutely loved it. this is definitely a longer one but i’m really happy with the way it turned out and hope you do too :) divider by @toastray

The forest was unpredictable, much like you, a girl out of touch with civilized reality. It was a choice, living out where the trees bent too low and the smell of pine often accompanied your rundown shack out in the middle of nowhere.

Nature had become a part of you. The wilderness lived twisted in vines through your skeleton, ran deep like water in your blood, settled in like soil in your skin. You breathed with the breeze, moved with the leaves. You were apart of the landscape of vast forests and underbrush and tributaries.

People agreed Yosemite could never be fully uncovered. There was too much land and mountains. Too much uncharted territory and trees that seemed to wrap their limbs around people, dragging them deeper and deeper until they became ghosts to the world.

Lost.

A simple word that held so much weight.

Some people said you were lost. That you had taken a wrong turn, stepped off the trail.

You didn’t need a trail. Just the map in your head and the untouched vastness of the forest.

Others believed you were some type of mythical creature or a monster. They made up stories about the Forest Girl, or worse, the Forest Creature. Parents told their children to stay close on hikes for fear of the Forest Girl leading them astray in the unforgiving wilderness. Every missing case filed somehow led to a possibility of Yosemite’s creature with pointy teeth and sharp claws luring innocent tourists to their demise.

To you, there was no need in telling them any different. That really, you were just a girl who’d been abandoned and somehow found her footing in a park of wild animals and flowering growth.

Deep within the tall trees was a shack. Long ago in a memory you’d rather forget you’d come across it, not caring what it was or what it used to be. Those simple four walls became your sanctuary of safety from the elements. But your true home was the natural woods and open meadows. A place you knew by heart. One where there was always something more to discover.

The park rangers knew you existed. To your surprise they didn’t put it in their little pamphlets as a tourist attraction of a girl who somehow survived out there all by herself. Come get a glimpse of our wild girl you sometimes expected the brochure to read.

But just because they knew you were out there didn’t mean they felt the need to drive you away.

Maybe some believed the crazy stories people came up with about you but even if they ever did come to take you away from your home, you made sure they’d never be able to catch you.

You were a deer, prancing through a forest that provided food, water, and shelter.

But that meant you were also a prime target for those who wanted to kill innocence and butcher your peace for no good reason.

Living in fear kept you alive. Trusting another human was something you never dared to touch.

Until one day running turned into a chase.

Trees whizzed past your face, branches scraping your skin. Your palms were scraped up from using the bark to pull yourself through the forest, hoping it’d make you go faster. The limp in your gait was very noticeable, pain searing up your leg every time you stepped.

Some steel, man-made trap had sunk deep into the flesh of your left leg. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it. Usually you found the signs of hunters. Even if people called you an animal, you were much more keen on knowing the whereabouts of humans in your vicinity. Staying clear of camp grounds and trails was easy enough. Spotting bear traps was even easier.

But whatever strange contraption that had caught you had been a blind spot.

Stubborn tears stung at your eyes as you pushed open the door to the shack. It was a small wooden building deep within low hanging branches, nearly invisible to the ordinary eye.

In one corner lay a messy heap of old quilts on a dingy mattress that smelled of mildew. There was a tiny table, one of the legs broken and being held up with a book. On it was a candlestick, a box of matches, and a med kit you’d stolen from one of the less attentive park rangers. Tattered clothes were draped over a ripped cushion and a wooden figurine of a fox stood on a rusty stool.

It wasn’t much but you got by.

Blood dripped onto the rickety floorboards as you sank to the ground, biting your lip to keep from alerting any nearby predators. Although, you were pretty sure the blood trail you left was more incriminating than any escaped whimper.

Carefully, you began to unwind the wire that was cut deep into your skin. The pain was enough to make your vision go black at the edges.

Somehow you managed to remove it and moved onto soaking up the blood with one of your shirts. It came away sopping but unfortunately it would have to work. It staunched the flow as best it could and you went to wrapping it in leaves, securing it with a bandage from the kit.

It did little to help the pain but you were sure it would subside at some point.

For a moment you just sat against the mattress, breathing hard.

You listened for an animal to come scratching at your door, pawing to use you as it’s next meal. In your reckless attempt to fix your leg, you had given just about every creature out there your location.

That simply wouldn’t do.

At least an hour had passed before you reached for a pail of water tucked beside the table. You carefully poured it over the wound before splashing some onto your face.

Today was a close call.

One you couldn’t let happen again.

With caution, you slowly pushed open the door and listened. Out there deep in the wilderness, it was never as quiet as people made it seem. There was always a bug buzzing, a bird chirping, a squirrel chittering. They were sounds that lulled you to sleep every night, along with the trickling of a nearby stream.

But right now, you listened closely for a predator stalking through the tall grass or the tell-tale growl of one with a need to sate their hunger.

You knew a thing or two about starvation. It took a while but at some point you’d gotten used to the feeling of an empty stomach most days. Normally you got by on berries and nuts paired with a roasted rodent or reptile. Only a few times had you been fortunate enough to catch a slippery fish or a juicy bird or deer.

Everything when pushed so far into hunger would eventually become a predator.

Time passed quickly but you could’ve easily been sitting in the doorway for hours waiting for something to come and snatch you up.

Soon enough you deemed it safe enough to venture out. You winced as you limped, following the darkened trail you’d left and covering up your tracks with leaves. You scrambled the dirt, doing your best to flip over bloody leaves and trying to wipe any off of nearby rocks.

You were mad at yourself for being so careless about leaving such an easy way for someone to find you.

It didn’t happen often but when it did, you wouldn’t sleep until it was covered up.

Coming across a small stream, you sat down by it and sighed in relief as you dipped your hurt leg in. Crimson bloomed in the current before washing away.

How easy it was to rid yourself of evidence. It was a wonder how nobody managed to track you down.

Glancing up at the canopy, you took note of the way the sun rays streamed through. At the slant they were at, it was nearing mid-day. Time seemed to have gotten away from you with your earlier injury.

Around you, the forest was alive. The sweet smell of Aspen filled your nose as you walked, leaves and twigs crunching softly under your bare feet.

The forest seemed to welcome you as one of its own. A family made of ancient trees and soil. Sometimes you’d whisper just to hear your voice carry with the breeze, wondering if maybe one day your words would reach some other lonesome forest dweller.

Your feet carried you through to a clearing. The meadow was covered in swaying yellow grass, a few wildflowers sprouted over the land. Bugs danced in the warm afternoon light, filling you with a sense of comfort.

They were living. Minding their business just like you were.

Yet it was so juxtaposing how such an undisturbed scene could just as easily be ruined.

You flinched at the sound of a whinnying horse, ducking behind a tree before you could spot it or they could spot you.

The park was so big that sometimes you just took your chances of finding somewhere that looked too far away for an outsider to find. But you never got close enough to know when they would go off-roading.

Carefully, you peeked just a single eye around the tree. In the distance was a horse with a brown coat and a man sitting comfortably on top. You knew who he was. Everyone in Yosemite knew Kyle Turner.

But he didn’t need to know you.

Even with your bad leg you managed to scurry off quick enough that the leaves would settle before they could give you away.

You slowed down once you felt far enough and your leg was burning again. Maybe exploring would have to wait for a day when you weren’t struggling to walk.

As you began your trek back to the shack, you stopped in your tracks when you heard the sound of a motor racing down the trail.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d stumbled upon a trail until you looked down and saw your toes crossing the line where grass met packed dirt.

As the ATV grew closer, you backed up and went to flatten yourself against the ground.

But he’d already seen you.

You felt frozen, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. The breeze snagged on your tattered white dress suddenly a lot more roughly, the air shifting as another presence entered your orbit. Gravity shifted, throwing you off your axis.

You’d seen him before. Shane something? He was a deer hunter for the most part, you knew, but you were also aware of the shady business he sometimes got himself involved in. You’d come across his camp a few times, picking through his belongings and then making it sure it looked just as it did before.

He was a dangerous man. An excellent hunter with that rifle that always sent alarm bells ringing through your head.

So you turned and bolted like a startled rabbit.

You didn’t know if he’d make chase but you weren’t going to stick around and find out either.

Adrenaline made it possible for you to run and not feel the way your leg screamed in agony, the wrap tearing on brambles as you dashed through the thicket.

“Hey!” His deep voice boomed, practically resounding off the trees. His boots pounded against the forest floor, breaking sticks and smashing pine cones. Fear zigzagged through your spine, listening to the way that rifle clinked against his body with every footfall.

Despite the heat of the chase, you gave him credit for being brave enough to stray from the path. To most people, that was a lifeline. No one seemed stupid enough to venture off the path that meant being found.

Except for Shane.

You ran like your life depended on it because out there, it did. Anything willing to give chase was a threat. Especially if you’d given no reason for him to be provoked. You were the uncivilized one but the fear of being caught in a hunters net was what kept your feet moving.

Knowing leading him right to your shack would be a death wish, you snatched a stone and dipped behind a thick tree.

Your chest heaved as you clutched the stone tight to your chest. It was your only weapon against the man with a gun strapped to him.

Shane eventually broke through the branches. You couldn’t see him and you wouldn’t dare to either. Hiding was what you were good at. You didn’t have claws and sharp teeth like people said you did.

You were just a girl who learned how prey stayed clear of the predator.

He was breathing somewhat regularly even after all that running, his rustling giving away his position.

He was close. Too close.

Maybe he wasn’t hunting you or maybe he was. Maybe he just wanted to know more about the tall tale of the Forest Girl up close and personal.

But you’d rather let the vultures pick your carcass clean before you ever let someone get close to you.

Your fingers tightened around the stone as the snap of a twig sounded close to your right.

“I know you’re there,” Shane called, making birds scatter into the sky and you to flinch. “You’re not the only one who knows this forest.”

Trying hard not to breathe too heavily, you matched it to the breeze, becoming one with the air to throw him off track.

But he was a hunter. A really good one at that.

“I know about you,” he continued, his voice nearly taunting. Like he was playing with his next meal. “Our little Forest Girl, ain’t that right?”

Slowly, so slowly, you began to crouch down into the grass. Running wasn’t an option anymore. Hiding only worked so well until you were found.

So, like a katydid, you blended into your surroundings. The grass obscured you as you got low, belly pressing into the ground.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Shane spoke like he meant it but you didn’t believe him. Not by a long shot. You once watched him shoot a deer from miles away without any hesitation. For all you knew you were just some doe he was looking to hang on his wall.

He turned his attention to behind the tree. You were already long gone, only leaving behind a mark of blood now soaking into the earth.

To anyone who’d even caught a whisper of the Forest Girl stories always seemed to ask more questions about her. Where did she come from? Was she a girl at all? How did she survive in those conditions for so long? The list went on. Some believed she was just a myth. Others thought she was a monster. The park rangers thought she was just a girl who wanted to be left alone.

But Shane Maguire needed her to understand that she didn’t own the forest.

Ever since he heard about her, he’d been fascinated. How could a frail thing like that make it on her own? There were so many things to worry about alone in the wilderness. Diseases were one thing, not to mention hypothermia and heat stroke in certain climates, parasites, venomous reptiles, bloodthirsty wolves and bears, and that was only scratching the surface.

Yet, the more he watched her, the more he started to understand how the wild could raise a person.

Shane was an excellent tracker and hunter, he knew that. Everyone knew that. But catching up to that girl was damn near impossible.

There was no getting close to you. No way to ambush you or trap you. It was like you used the trees and bushes as your eyes and ears.

The closest any ranger had gotten to you was Kyle.

And Shane was more jealous than he should’ve been.

When he wasn’t hunting deer, he was watching you. If and when he could find you. Sometimes he found footprints in the mud, no shoes. Other times he could feel another presence lingering. Almost like you were watching him too.

Usually, he watched you through the scope of his rifle. It was easier that way. It meant you wouldn’t flee, becoming a precious little fawn under his observation.

A sight for him and for him alone.

He was so taken by you. You were as free as a bird, running around in a dirty, tattered dress with wild hair that clearly hadn’t been cut in a while. He observed how wary you were when there was a sudden noise or shift in the air.

But what got him the most was how serene you were when it was just you and the forest. You were so untouched by the world, so pure and untamed.

And no one but him got to witness it.

A part of him wondered what people would say about him if he caught you. If everyone knew that Shane Maguire was the one to get close to the Forest Girl.

But the other, stronger part of him wanted to keep you as his secret. Clearly that’s what you wanted—to remain unseen, hidden in the underbrush or high up in the trees. And he was willing to give you that if only he could be apart of it.

Chasing after you wasn’t the best idea he’d had. You ran like a crazed animal, just like he knew you would.

Then he’d found out you were bleeding. And somehow, you managed to cover your trail this time.

When he got back to his camp, he decided he’d use a different strategy than his previous approaches to get you close. This time, he’d lure you out of hiding instead of chasing you into it.

Shane found a tin of salve in his camp, one he kept on standby just in case of an emergency. But you needed it more than he did.

There was no telling when you’d come back around, especially after what he pulled. And if you did, chances were that you’d stay far, far away from him.

But he knew desperate creatures. How somehow, someway they would be drawn to a safety net.

So he left it a few feet away from his camp, lid unscrewed and left open for the taking.

Patience was something he’d mastered in the army. Waiting was easy for him, having the forest to keep him company. When he thought about it, he came to the conclusion that it was the same way for you.

The day bled into night and back to morning. The adrenaline had long since worn off, leaving your leg throbbing in pain. You barely had gotten any sleep, the mixture of pain and fear of Shane finding your shack being the leading cause.

But it was a new day and you had to fix your leg and fast before infection could finally catch up to you.

On your adventure to find a way to heal your wounds, you came across shed antlers and a bees nest. Usually you’d stop and examine both of them but not today.

Eventually, you could barely walk. Your entire body ached, unusual for you since all you did was move. But the wound was making your muscles and joints tighten, which made everything more difficult.

Just when you thought you had to find a ranger and steal from them, you found a tin with some sort of thick substance inside.

Hesitantly, you took it. It felt like a trap, like it’d been left out for you. But the second you smeared it onto your leg, your defenses dropped a little bit. The relief felt like plunging into a cold river after a long, hot day in the sun. You sighed, leaning back against a tree as the pain slowly but surely eased.

That’s when you felt his gaze.

Like before, you dropped to your stomach, the grass tickling your exposed sun-kissed skin as you watched through the tufts.

Not too far away, you saw Shane. Knowing running would cost you the relief, you didn’t move. You just stayed hunkered down in the foliage, keeping your sharp eyes trained on him like a bird of prey.

He didn’t seem to be doing much. Just sitting there, sipping on a beer. The sun caught the blonde stubble on his chin and jaw, the breeze ruffling his hair.

From afar, he didn’t look like the man who’d chased you through the woods yesterday. He looked calm. Just a man enjoying beautiful Yosemite.

But you weren’t that trusting. Never had you put your trust in a person. You had learned they were unreliable, changing so suddenly that any solid ground would break open at any given moment.

Natures change was constant. The weather, the migration patterns, the seasons. You couldn’t control them, but you knew when they would happen. That’s what made living wild second nature to you.

A few days passed and you steered clear of Shane as best you could. It got easier as your leg started to heal properly thanks to that salve he so generously left out for you. You were wary about it. No person would just do that if they didn’t want something in return.

Which was why you crept around his camp more often now.

You still kept your distance, making sure you were concealed just in case he came wandering back. Sometimes it kept you up at night, thinking about what he’d do if he ever managed to catch you.

As far as you knew, people would pay good money to see the Forest Girl become a tourist attraction. Putting a wild animal in a cage already caught people’s interest so you wondered how much they’d pay to see a wild girl be put in its place.

Shane was rarely at his camp, you noticed. All he did there was eat, drink, and sleep. But when he wasn’t there, he was out hunting deer or you.

On a particularly sunny day, you found a berry bush. You needed to stock up on your food supply and picked a bunch, putting them into the bucket that was usually for water. The forest seemed calm today, like maybe all the predators had taken a break for once.

The suns rays warmed your skin as you walked through the trees, snacking on a few berries. Delicious flavors burst onto your tongue. The juice stained your fingers and you wiped them on your dress, leaving behind dark blue prints.

Finally, for the first time in weeks, you felt like you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.

But it was what was right in front of you that made you freeze.

You darted behind low branches, hiding in the leaves as you watched two park rangers hover by the door to your shack.

Kyle and Naya, dressed in uniform, stood around your slice of safety. They were talking but you weren’t sure what was coming out of their mouths.

You knew they were the only two rangers who knew where you lived. But you never got close enough to know what they wanted from you.

It wasn’t long before Kyle started back towards his horse, Naya looking around before following.

You stayed hidden for long after they were gone before slowly creeping out and approaching the shack with hastened steps.

Before you could open the door, you felt the air shift. Not a bear, not a mountain lion. A person.

Did they come back? Did they somehow see you?

You quickly rushed inside, pushing the small table in front of the door before crouching below the tiny window and looking out at the tree line.

No one stepped out. There was no movement, no noise. Yet, you didn’t stop looking until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore.

For some unknown reason, you began to hang around Shane’s camp more often now. You even started to inch closer just because you wanted to know more. Until one day he wasn’t there anymore. You assumed he’d just moved his camp somewhere else and after days of tracking him through the forest, it led you right to his cabin. You felt better knowing you had eyes on him instead of the other way around.

He was a creature of habit, you noticed, as most people are. He was gone for long periods of time and when he got back he just went through the motions.

You hated living in fear. Paranoia had settled into your bones like an unwanted visitor. But Shane was unpredictable and coexisting with him seemed too hard for both of you.

One night, you sat under the glow of the flickering candle in your shack. Sitting on your bed with a book you couldn’t read, you snacked on some berries and ate parts of a cooked bird you managed to catch.

Outside the tiny four walls, an owl let out a long hoot and the crickets chirped loudly. Wax dripped in a rhythmic pattern against the table, the only sign of human life so deep in the forest.

You skimmed through the pages of a picture book, taking in the pretty drawings of whales and dolphins and sea turtles. Whoever left it rotting on that bench deserved a thank you for giving you such entertainment.

It was hard to focus, though. Your eyes kept darting to the door, to the small window, expecting to see a passing shadow. You stared holes into the broken latch of the door, barely keeping you tucked away from the dangers that lurked in the dark.

But you were prepared.

Next to you was a pile of rocks for throwing and a large bucks antler for wielding. Just a precaution.

And it seemed like you were going to need them.

With the moon high in the starry sky, you were fighting sleep when you heard it. Soft footsteps were coming from the surrounding woods, but there was no clink of metal. A sign of a hunter who knew what they were doing.

You leapt to your feet, rock in hand as you yanked the door open. Frantically, your eyes scanned the darkened woods, expecting anything to jump out at you.

Then the moonlight caught his eye.

Shane emerged from the trees, stepping into the small clearing with his hands raised. You immediately reared the rock back.

“Woah there,” he said lowly but you couldn’t stop staring at the rifle slung over his shoulder. “I ain’t here to hurt ya.”

Your nostrils flared and you launched the rock. “Get away from me!”

Shane barely flinched, just moving enough to dodge the projectile. He watched as you quickly grabbed another rock and secured the antler into your other hand before coming right back out.

“This isn’t your land!” Shane called.

“I still live here!” You shouted back. “I ain’t causing no trouble.”

He let out a deep chuckle, one that sent chills spiraling up your arms. “You scare off the tourists. But I guess you do keep most of them from going off the trails.”

You breathed heavily and threw another rock. “I know what they say ‘bout me. But I did nothin’ to anyone!”

Shane knew you were telling the truth. You were skilled to be able to live out there alone and clearly you could hunt with your bare hands. As much as fables and stories were spread around, none of them came up with a lie about the Forest Girl attacking campers and hikers.

“Now go!” You nearly screamed, flinging yet another rock at him.

This one grazed his arm but he wasn’t bothered by it. He just stared at you, eyes feral and hair unruly. You really did belong in the wilderness.

But he wasn’t giving up that easily.

Slowly, he slipped a thumb under the strap of his rifle. You watched intently, heart beating like a drum. All he did was slip it off his shoulder and toss it into the grass.

“You really are a wild one, huh?” He asked rhetorically, his lips curving into an amused smile.

You knew you’d lose in a fight against him. He was big and broad, strong from carrying around deer carcasses and heavy equipment. You had some height to you but you didn’t have the muscle strength like he did.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you want from me?”

His brows raised, not expecting such a candid question. “Let’s start off simple; what’s your name?”

It was so simple. Didn’t everyone ask for a name the first time they met someone? For your whole life no one had ever cared about your real name. The one that gave you an identity.

Despite it all, your fear and anger, you found yourself wanting to tell him. To be something other than Forest Girl to someone. So you did.

Shane repeated the name, tasting it on his tongue and it felt strange and almost… nice. You hadn’t heard your name in years. You were surprised you even still remembered it.

“Pretty name,” he said before slipping his hand into his pocket.

You tightened your grip on the antler.

“Easy now.” Shane pulled out a few items, crinkling them in his hands. He held them up, showing that they were just snacks—a beef jerky stick, a pack of cheese slices, and a granola bar.

Was this some type of peace offering? You assumed it was considering how he knew you wouldn’t take them and instead tossed them towards you.

They landed in the grass at your feet with a muted thud.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Shane said, staying rooted to his spot. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone out here looking out for you?” Even though I already do.

“I don’t need anything from you,” you replied, voice clipped and cold. “Or—or anyone.”

Yet, somewhere deep down, you were open to this idea of not being completely alone in the world. It was a desire you’d pushed deep down under moss and roots, but somehow it still kept sprouting when watered upon.

And Shane Maguire was giving it back to you.

“Suit yourself.” Was all he said before picking up his rifle and turning back from where he came. Before he disappeared, he gave you one last glance. “See you around, sweetheart.” Then he left, whistling without a care.

For a moment you didn’t move. You stared at the rustling leaves he’d just disturbed until you could no longer hear his whistles or footsteps.

Eventually you looked down at the food he left. The stubborn part of you didn’t want to take it but you knew that would be a foolish thing to do.

Without a word, you gathered them and went back inside. You ate the granola bar quickly, quietly, like some scavenger would come and take it away. Once your stomach felt satisfied, you laid on your springy mattress and pulled the scratchy quilts over your body.

You counted the lines in the floor as you drifted to sleep. When you finally closed your eyes, Shane was there and this time? You didn’t feel afraid.

A storm had settled over Yosemite, bringing the heavy scent of rain and covering the pines with a thick mist. Rivers and streams were rushing with the downpour and you could hear it even from the shack. Tiny cracks in the ceiling exposed you to the elements, causing a rhythmic drip drip drip as it hit the floor.

At some point you’d gotten annoyed and headed out into the storm.

The smell of damp earth and rain refreshed your system, your feet sinking into the soft soil. The cool air was a nice change from the heat that had swept through the valley.

As you walked, you realized you hadn’t been looking over your shoulder as much. You kept thinking about Shanes words: wouldn’t it be nice to have someone out here looking out for you?

For years you’d made it on your own. But now that someone was offering? It almost hurt how much you wanted to accept it.

You came across a small pond teeming with life. Dragonflies zipped across the surface, fish swam beneath, frogs croaked on lily pads. You sat on the lip above the water where a branch had fallen, letting your toes skim the top. Ripples spread over the water, disorienting your reflection.

You knew what you looked like but out where no one could see you, you didn’t care.

“Hello there,” you said in a soft voice, smiling as a salamander sidled up next to you. You held out a hand, letting it crawl into your palm before stroking its slimy head with a single finger.

“Well would you look at that.”

Your head snapped to the direction of his voice, watching as Shane approached from the other side of the pond. Still, you felt a need to run but you didn’t. Not yet.

“Like a real life Snow White,” Shane said, crouching down to examine the lively pond.

You tracked his every move carefully. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Not surprised.” He breathed out gruffly before looking at you sitting on that branch like some sort of nature princess.

Surprisingly neither of you said much. Just enjoyed the moist atmosphere and the little ecosystem in front of you. You noticed that he didn’t have his rifle on him today. Just a small hand gun tucked into a holster at his belt.

And they consider me as the barbarian you thought to yourself.

Shane, on the other hand, was not thinking about his weapon or even the peaceful forest. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your smooth, untouched skin and how the rain made your thin white dress cling to your curves. It became clear to him that you weren’t wearing a bra, being able to see the faint pink of your breasts and how your nipples perked up in the cold air.

He felt like a dirty man and tried averting his eyes to your hair, frizzy in the humidity and how your lashes caught raindrops. You were so beautiful, he thought. How had no one noticed before?

And right here, right now, he had you all to himself.

He stood up, keeping his hand away from his pistol. “I came out to tell you the storms gonna get worse. Thought I’d give you a heads up.”

You took a brief glance up at the sky. The dark clouds were gathering quickly. They were most likely going to result in a thunderstorm and you definitely didn’t want to be around when the lightning struck.

Gently, you set the salamander down and got to your feet. You didn’t wait for Shane as you turned in the direction of your shack but halfway there a loud crack of thunder rattled through the forest, scattering birds on their perches.

You quickened your pace but the downpour was already there, drenching you.

“Hey!” Shane called over the heavy rain a few steps behind you. You turned around, squinting. He gestured aimlessly. “My cabin is dryer. Plus, sleeping on a mildew infested mattress isn’t healthy.”

You blinked. “How did you know—”

He was already walking in the opposite direction. You stood there for a moment, hesitant. You’d followed people before but not because they wanted you to. This sort of felt like walking into another trap but as another thunderclap hit, you headed off after him.

His cabin wasn’t too far but once you were there, you stopped in the doorway.

Shane ran a hand through his wet hair, his dark shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and thick biceps. He glanced over his shoulder at you, looking like a lost puppy. “Come on. It’s cold out there.”

You still didn’t move.

With a heavy sigh, he disarmed himself and put more distance between the two of you.

With all your courage, you stepped inside. The sleek boards under your feet felt different as you tracked in mud, leaving prints behind. Inside was warm, the walls made of mahogany wood boards and there was a small, stone fireplace on one side. There was a practical kitchen, a table, and two sofas in the main room before a narrow hallway extended into the rest of the rooms.

You tried your best to keep your jaw from falling off as you took it all in. This was how people lived?

You let out a startled gasp as you turned your head only to be met face to face with a taxidermy elk head mounted on the wall. You took a step back, losing your footing on the slippery floor and crashed into the ground.

Shane quickly went to help but you were already up, still locked on that elk head.

He didn’t say anything. You were observing his home, just like he’d done with yours. It wasn’t much but it was exactly what he wanted.

He watched as you reached out to touch the dead elk, a sly smirk making his lips curve. He found it rather endearing, your curiosity. Then he saw how you shivered, goosebumps speckling your arms. You were dirty and probably bathed in the rivers or lakes. And Shane wanted to be the one to give you your first, real, warm bath.

While you observed the decorations, he went down the hallway to the small bathroom and ran the tub.

You listened carefully to the flow of water and wondered where it was coming from. You tip toed after him, peeking around the doorframe as he bent over the bathtub.

Sensing your presence, Shane glanced over at you with a slight smile. “You ever had a bath before?”

You kept your hands braced on the frame as you answered, “couple times. A really long time ago.”

Shane’s mind began to spiral with questions about what truly happened to you. He dipped a hand into the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot before stepping back. “Should be a nice experience then.”

You took a steadying breath before stepping into the bathroom and before Shane could leave, you already had your dress over your head.

A thousand emotions fired through his head as he watched you undress. That was the last thing he was expecting. But it really put it into perspective of how wild you were deep down.

Carefully, you stepped into the warmth and gasped at the temperature. It wasn’t too hot. It felt amazing against your cold skin as you began to sink down into it.

Shane knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop staring. Every soft curve looked so inviting, and the bliss on your face made his heart do something it hadn’t in a while. He got the sudden urge to take care of you. To treat you how you should’ve been treated long, long ago.

He knelt back down by the side of the tub, almost as if he were approaching a skittish animal. “Do you need help?”

You opened your mouth to tell him no but the warm water had made your limbs go slack. In the small room, you didn’t have to watch your back. It was just Shane and he wanted to help you. No one had ever wanted to do that before.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Okay.”

He scooped some water into his large hands, bringing it up to your shoulder. You flinched at the prospect of being touched. He caught on and let the water fall back. “It’s alright. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

His words made your eyes widen a fraction. He was being patient, respectful.

Putting on a brave face, you said, “You can.”

Taken slightly aback by your permission, he nodded and brought the water to your shoulders again. He let it wash over your skin, his fingers just barely grazing you.

But all it took was that one little brush to wake up all of your nerve endings.

Your body felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the water, the contact of another persons skin on yours making it feel like you had been struck by lightning. It was like coming alive from being trapped in your own head for far too long.

Shane noticed this but said nothing. Just kept washing you with gentle hands. Using his soap, he started to carefully detangle your hair and wash it thoroughly. The sensation felt so good that you closed your eyes and sighed.

Thunder boomed outside, breaking whatever trance you’d fallen into but he pressed a heavy hand on your back.

“Hey,” he said, making you look at him. “You’re safe in here, you got that?”

You slowly nodded before he began to wash the suds out of your hair.

After your bath came to an end, he wrapped a towel around you before going off to find you clean clothes and not the tatters of your dress.

While you waited, you stared at yourself in the mirror. It was different than seeing yourself in the ripples of the water. You brought your fingers to your face, touching the shape of it.

Maybe the days of you fending for yourself were over.

Maybe this was the start of something new for your life.

Shane came back with a grey flannel and sweatpants, handing them to you. “You know how to dress yourself, right?”

You took the clothes, the fabric soft from multiple wears. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll go… make you something.”

Once he was gone, finally giving you privacy, you changed into his clothes. They swallowed you whole. It made you look like a trout caught in the mouth of a shark. You gawked at yourself in the mirror, tugging at the sleeves and the sweatpants that wouldn’t stay around your hips. It wasn’t like you were super small, he was just really big.

Deciding you didn’t like the pants, you left them on the floor and padded back into the main space.

A fire had been lit in the hearth and instantly you were drawn to its heat. You sat down on the floor, wondering at the flames contained in the cave-like stone structure.

Shane walked over, crouching down and handing you a piece of toast on a napkin.

You took it with a hesitant hand.

He sat down beside you with a heavy breath.

You nibbled on the bread, too afraid it wouldn’t stave off the hunger if you ate it too quickly. A long silence passed before you decided to speak.

“Did you tell anyone about me?”

Shane looked over at you. Your hair seemed to glow in the firelight, catching on the faint, fading scars on your knees.

“Now just why would I do that?”

“Because any of your ranger friends would throw me in a net if they found me.”

“They ain’t my friends,” Shane replied, unbothered. “But I don’t doubt they would. That’s why I wanted to find you first.”

You looked at him, brows furrowed. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You were following me.”

“I wasn’t following you.”

“You just said you did.”

“Those weren’t my words.”

You gave a huff. “But you were still watching me.”

Shane smirked, showing his teeth. “Don’t act like you weren’t doin’ the same thing.”

Surprised by his knowledge, you turned your attention to the fire and shoved a bite of bread into your mouth.

It almost bothered you how satisfied he was with himself for rendering you speechless. His grin widened but shockingly enough he let it go for now.

“So, how long you been out there?”

Anticipating the question, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not good with time.”

Shane shifted, resting his arms on his knees. “Do you at least know how you got out there?”

The answer to that question was something you hadn’t thought of in a very long time. You chose not to think about what had happened, why you had been thrown into the forest to fend for yourself. But it didn’t bother you as much anymore.

It was the first chapter in a story that was lost to people who thought they knew the whole book.

“Forever ago,” you began solemnly. “Car accident. I… lived, they died. Like a normal child I was terrified, lost in the great unknown by myself. But my dad, I think, had taught me how to handle being lost, how to navigate the woods. That’s what kept me alive.”

Shane watched you, hard eyes softening as much as they could for a man like him. Car crashes weren’t rare for the park but a missing girl as a result of one definitely was.

As he thought back, it suddenly started to click. That case from years ago, the one where they had found out the parents had a daughter but they never did find her body.

Most came to the conclusion that she had been dragged away by some hungry wolves, maybe a mountain lion. But the idea of a girl running into the forest by herself and surviving seemed way too ludicrous for anyone to really believe that theory.

Shane was struck with the fact he had just uncovered the truth to a case that’d been laid to rest so long ago.

“You’re her.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? However you know me, I don’t care. I adapted and I endured. I was—I am—happy out there and that’s it.”

“Hey,” Shane said sternly, resting a heavy hand on your knee. Again, his touch felt like electricity shooting up through your leg. It stirred something low in your stomach. Something hot and intimidating.

His eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze enough to start a wildfire. “Stop that. You want to be a secret than you’re going to be a secret. You hear me?”

Too taken aback by the determination in his voice, you just stared at him like he was speaking another language.

His grip tightened. “Look at me and tell me you understand.”

You swallowed hard before nodding. “I understand.”

Every day after that, it wasn’t just the forest anymore. It was the forest and Shane.

There was an understanding between the two of you now—he was still the hunter but never again would you be the one with a target on your back.

After finding the wreckage of what the storm did to your shack, you cried. It was the only piece of you you’d ever had truly to yourself. But instead of having no where to go, Shane let you stay in his cabin.

For months you treated the cabin as just somewhere to stay out of the extreme weather and a place to rest your head.

During the day, you never went there, afraid some ranger would come knocking on his door. So you stayed within the only home that had never collapsed on you—the forest.

Shane got used to taking care of you. He fed you, let you sleep on the floor of his room because you were too scared to sleep elsewhere, bathed you just because he wanted to.

It was easy. You never asked for much, only taking what he gave you.

When he started spending money on you, that’s when Shane knew you were more than just a girl seeking solace in his company.

At first it was just the basics—food, water, feminine and hygiene products. Then it became him buying you clothes, only picking out dresses or loose fitting shorts and shirts because he noticed you hated feeling restricted. Your toothbrush sat on the counter next to his, your floral soap always filling his senses because he found you took interest in scented things. He bought you a pair of shoes that you never wore because again, they felt like they were squeezing your feet even though they were the right size.

You appreciated it more than you could ever express. But it was the moments where it was just the two of you and the quiet of the cabin that spoke louder than any material item.

Most nights you two sat on the floor with dinner, feeling the warmth of the fire on colder days. Around the cabin you liked staying bundled in one of his flannels because it felt like being embraced without actually being touched.

Shane did good keeping his hands to himself since he noted how petrified you looked every time his skin did as much as just graze yours.

But you were not petrified.

Human touch was something you’d gone so long without that it felt overwhelming. Every time his fingers brushed against you, you felt as if you were on a tiny boat in the ocean and it capsized.

But he was also the one who flipped it right side up again.

Being afraid of it became a heady, consuming yearning to be closer. To feel his hands on your unmapped skin. To understand those feelings shoved so far down.

He made you laugh, made you smile, made your heart feel a sort of happiness that you never felt before.

You knew he wasn’t the best man but he was the only one who had ever actually cared.

That was all that mattered to you.

It was a cold November night, Shane just having finished the dishes he’d been putting off for too long. You, of course, were sitting by the fire, curled up in one of the arm chairs instead of the ground for once.

Your fingers ran over the pretty pictures in one of the books Shane had given you. You had a collection piling up of books and magazines just because you liked observing more than reading. He always bought you a new one every time he went by the general store.

“Gray wolf,” you sounded out slowly, fingertips tracing the watercolor lines of the wolf on paper.

Shane glanced over at you, drying his hands on a rag. “Fun fact, gray wolves mate for life.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the page, just nodding along. “Yeah. And once one dies, they typically stay alone for the rest of their life. True love.”

He smothered his smile, finding it almost adorable at you calling animal romance true love.

You glanced over at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

Shane shook his head, raising his hands. “I would never do such a thing.”

You gave a bored look, tilting your head. “You’re laughing at me.”

He couldn’t help it, finding your strict face too cute to stand. He smiled. “Fine. Maybe just a little bit but not because I’m making fun of you.”

“Hmph.” You turned back to your book, flipping the page to a section about birds of prey.

After a while, you spoke up, “did you know sparrowhawks eat smaller males?”

He raised his brows. “Do they now?”

“Yep. It says it right here in my book.”

Shane crossed the room in a few long strides, leaning over you as he scanned the page for where it talked about sparrowhawks. But there wasn’t anything about that type of bird.

His eyes slowly turned to you but you were already smiling. It lit up your eyes, crinkling the corners of them and he couldn’t stop looking. “I think you’re just nature’s greatest observer.”

You laughed softly, closing the book. “I think I can agree with you on that.”

Shane was about to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear before there was a knock. Who could possibly be here at this hour?

You had already leapt to your feet, steering clear of the windows as you made a beeline for his bedroom.

“Open up, Maguire! It’s Kyle!”

A sliver of relief passed through you knowing it was just Kyle but you didn’t trust him. Not like you had found yourself trusting Shane.

You hunkered in his closet, keeping an eye on the window just in case you needed to make an escape.

Moments passed. You couldn’t make out their conversation, only listening to their muffled voices but they both sounded aggravated. Then when Kyle finally left, Shane’s heavy footsteps came down the hallway.

You didn’t emerge until you saw him enter. Once you came out of your hiding spot, he nearly looked relieved.

“What was that about?” You asked quietly, almost afraid you might set off a land mine.

His jaw was tense and his eyes were dark with frustration but it bordered on something more feral. “He saw your shack. Wanted to know if I had anything to do with it.”

It didn’t seem that bad so you just left it be. You hadn’t been in enough arguments to feel confident starting one.

Silently, you stepped closer to the window. You peered into the dark wilderness, still feeling like apart of it even from inside four walls. It was peaceful and you hadn’t realized how scared you were of Kyle ruining that. You liked this slice of tranquil space with Shane, not wanting anyone to intervene.

Shane was frustrated Kyle had almost intruded on it. His anger simmered low in his blood, waiting for a fuse to spark but it never did.

Not when he saw you.

Your hair caught the silver moon, bathing you in liquid steel. His flannel draped over your frame—one he had seen too many times and yet barely got to appreciate.

He wanted to change that.

Shane took a few steps toward you, careful not to crowd but enough for you to feel his warmth.

You felt the shift in the air before you even saw him. Something about it made your heart leap, kickstarting it into a gallop.

Without a word, he brushed his calloused fingers against yours, instantly making your breath hitch.

“Shh,” he shushed quietly, like talking to a startled animal. “It’s alright. Just me.”

You let his fingers curl around yours, the contact making you feel dizzy. He noticed the way you seemed to stop breathing and brought a thumb to your lip. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

His touch was searing. Your brain was sending so many signals to so many different parts of your body, making you nearly malfunction.

Outside you were still a wild one, but in here, you were finally tamed if only for a moment.

One more small step and his body was almost pressing against yours. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your pulse racing under your skin.

He lowered his head slightly, so close you could feel his breath against yours lips which had already started to tingle. “You trust me, right?”

A moment passed as you tried to gather what he was asking you. “Mhm,” you managed to hum. “I do.”

Those two little words were something you never thought you’d ever say to trusting anyone, let alone the man who used to hunt you.

“Good.”

You didn’t have time to grasp what was happening when his lips sealed against yours. You gasped, body freezing up at the foreign feeling.

You couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

All you could feel was his warmth and the scratch of his stubble against your chin and gosh, it felt so amazing.

Shane sensed your shock and pulled away slightly but, feeling brave enough, you put your lips right back to his.

He released a low sound, almost like a growl, as he felt you return what he’d been waiting so long for.

His strong hands settled carefully on your waist but the sensation sent a hot zip of pleasure up your spine. It was a feeling so overwhelmingly and yet you couldn’t get enough.

Despite his best efforts to keep it slow, he deepened it. His tongue pressed against yours lips and you clearly didn’t get the hint so he just pushed right past the barrier. Instantly he groaned at the hot wetness of your mouth, licking into it like he needed to show you what his burning feelings felt like.

He was wary of your reactions, to make sure to pull back if it was too much but it was quite the opposite.

You gasped yet again, only allowing him deeper access. One hand slid up to your nape, fingers tangling in your hair and tilting your head up so he could reach you better.

You both were intoxicating each other. He smelled of pine, rain, cedar, and something distinctly manly. It clogged your senses while he inhaled the scent of your floral shampoo and the way the forest still clung to your skin.

For someone with no experience, he knew you were a fast learner and the way you finally got your hands to grip the fabric of his shirt was proof enough.

He didn’t know how long the two of you stood like that for but when you finally pulled away for air, the sight of you was like a match to gasoline. Your hair was messy from his hand, your pretty lips swollen and wet from his kiss.

“Baby,” he rasped out the nickname like it hurt, pressing his forehead hard against yours.

“Shane.” You whispered shakily, breathily, feeling completely bereft of oxygen.

Somewhere deep in your mind you knew that topped any first kiss ever.

When your knees felt like they were going to buckle, he quickly slipped an arm around your waist, keeping you upright. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You blinked up at him, wide eyed but something sparkled within those depths. Something new. Something unfamiliar.

And he knew exactly what it was.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Shane asked, smoothing a hand over your hair before pressing a lighter kiss on your lips this time. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

His restraint was fraying and you were not helping at all.

You panted, a new type of high that didn’t come from gallivanting through the forest. “Um… I… my heart’s beating really fast.”

His lips twitched with a smile. “Yeah? So is mine.”

You could feel it beating hard under his chest. It told you that he was feeling very similar to you.

“And… I feel like I can’t get enough air. And I’m uncomfortable because there’s something wet between my legs.”

Shane felt heat lick at his neck and spread far down south. His grip tightened at the implication of your words and had to force himself not to react the way he wanted to.

“Yeah, baby? It’s uncomfortable down there?”

You nodded with a slight pout on your lips. “What is it, Shane?”

Just like before, he found your cluelessness adorable but this time, he felt a possessive urge to help you understand your body and how it was reacting because of him.

“It’s normal,” he said, forcing his voice to be steady. “It’s your body letting you know it wants something.”

Your brows furrowed. “Wants what?”

Shane cupped your face, rough palms catching on soft skin. “Me.”

It clicked to you then, what he was talking about. You read it in books, witnessed it in the wild. How humans and animals weren’t so different in that sense.

He saw when it dawned on you and he saw how panic immediately threatened to seize you.

“We don’t have to do anything, okay?” He whispered. “It’s up to you. But I want you to know that even if you don’t want it, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You considered his words, eyes searching his face and you saw the sincerity mixed with his desire. You believed him. You trusted he wouldn’t get mad.

But the ache was getting worse and you whimpered softly. “Can you at least make it go away?”

Shane just about lit up at the request but he nodded, brushing a kiss to your forehead and then your nose and then your cheeks. “Of course I can, baby.”

That night, you felt all your loneliness dissipate. It vanished into the cold night air, going back to cling to the trees the way it had before it clung to you. His hands mapped you like you were a new landscape he had always wanted to explore, tracing every valley and dip of your body.

When he found that wet heat of your need, he dove in without ever thinking about breathing again.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you like being caught in the rapids, being thrown every which way and gasping for air every time you surfaced.

Sweat rolled down your chest like snow melt in early spring, your back arching like one of the bridges you stood on to feel like you were flying.

Now? Now you didn’t feel like flying.

As Shane lapped and sucked and licked, you felt like you had slipped off the edge. You barreled towards the ground hard and fast, light rippling behind your eyelids as you crashed into the canopy.

Once you landed, everything felt wet and sticky, tumbling in a lake before crawling onto a ground covered in tacky sap.

And after it was all over? You laid down in a calm meadow where you caught your breath, racing heart slowing down from a high you’d been chasing your entire life.

But you weren’t alone this time.

Shane crawled over you, hands pressing against the mattress and tracing your cheek with a reverence that made you feel warm and wanted.

“You okay?” He whispered, his mouth and chin glistening with your sweetness. He watched how the afterglow set in, your eyes and face relaxed in a way he’d never seen before.

You nodded slowly, a blissed out smile gracing your lips. “Thank you.”

His heart gave a thud before he kissed you, letting you taste your nectar on your tongue. “Don’t needa thank me. Just a man showing his woman what it’s like to not be alone.”

His woman.

You weren’t the Forest Girl anymore. That felt like a distant dream now. You were just a woman who had been by herself her entire life who finally found someone who wanted to show her love.

That night you slept in his bed, his arm draped loosely around your waist. He listened to your heartbeat and traced slow circles on your stomach.

Everyone treated you like you were a monster or a myth or something to be afraid of.

But here in the quiet of his room, Shane Maguire knew he’d follow you blindly through the forest any day if only it meant getting to see his wild girl happy.

He brought his mouth to your ear, hoping you were still awake enough to hear him.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

hi!! i enjoyed writing this so much and i want to share some songs i listened to while writing it…

— white feather hawktail deer hunter | lana del rey

— can’t catch me now | olivia rodrigo

— carolina | taylor swift

— nettles | ethel cain

— out of the woods | taylor swift

thank you for reading <3

[lvely-prose]

— watching, hoping

pairings: benjamin poindexter x fem! stark reader synopsis: dex had nearly forgotten all about that girl. almost. after joining the fbi, he didn’t think much of his bad childhood. not even the parts that were slightly better. as for you, getting away from your parents was your priority. so you moved to the city. little did you know a certain boy had found his way there too. word count: 3.7k warnings/content: start of dex’s stalker era, mentions of mental disorders, weed, intoxication, cannabis consumption, fbi dex, based around season 3, reader is a bit of an oversharer and alcoholic pae speaks ~ hello lovelies! I apologize for my inconsistent posting but i will be trying my best to stay more consistent. i hope you enjoy <3

2017, Hell’s Kitchen, New York

City life was much different than your “simple” life in the suburbs of Portsmouth. However, your life was never really simple. Not with your father being the billionaire Tony Stark. For a long time you never associated yourself with him, using your mother’s maiden name since they were never married, even though Stark popped up in your name on paper. As far as you were aware, he was now engaged to a woman named Pepper Potts.

You felt indifferent towards your father. Sure, he’d never really taken up the position but at least he acknowledged your existence by putting a hefty amount of money into your bank account.

Surely living in a nice penthouse in Hudson Yards would be the logical choice. A nice view of the city, less crime rates, more people around with wealth…

Instead you settled on a relatively decent apartment in Hell’s Kitchen.

Deep down it felt wrong to use your father’s money to buy some luxurious home for only yourself. It wasn’t necessary. Quite frankly you didn’t really want the money because sometimes it made you feel like Mr. Stark’s charity case. When in reality, you managed to get by fine on your own. Keeping a stable job, buying groceries once a week, paying bills… the adult life you’d dreamed of.

After moving away from Portsmouth, you’d been able to get into a good college. That’s when your artful talent really got the time to shine. It was a fun time in your early adult years.

But now that you were nearing your late twenties, things were starting to slow down just a little.

Despite your strained relationship with both your mother (who still lived in that old mansion in Portsmouth) and your billionaire father, you were happier without them. Mostly.

You were single, living a good life, and yet you still felt like there was something missing. Something you promised someone or yourself but for years and years you never could figure out what that empty space was. It ate at you when things got too quiet—when the city quieted, when the vigilantes returned to their holes after a while, when people took a break from calling your phone.

So you smoked.

The unhealthy addiction started when you were a teenager, still living under the roof of a woman who made you wear skirts and heels in freezing climates. Teenage rebellion had always been a common thing but yours wasn’t so much about wanting to defy your parents but rather you trying to escape their perfect little world.

You took up smoking joints when you found an old bag of weed stashed in your step-father’s closet back when he fought in Vietnam. And if not that, then it was cigarettes.

Just always enough to take the edge off.

Currently, that’s what you wished you were doing.

Golden glows of dim lights illuminated the hotel you were invited to. A big name publisher wanted to speak with you about putting your drawings into a book and you were more than interested in the offer.

Yet, standing in the lobby of a hotel that was staging as a prison for Wilson Fisk was the last place you wanted to be. With the extra anxieties of being recognized for your work, you suddenly wished you would’ve at least taken an edible or downed a glass of cheap wine before showing up.

You stood in front of one of the big paintings, hands tucked into the pockets of your black coat with fur trim on the collar and sleeves. Classy yet simple.

Admiring art was one of your pastimes. All you ever did was wind up in museums if you weren’t high as a kite or drunk off your rocker. But sometimes even that wasn’t enough to keep you away from staring at lines and swoops and shapes and colors.

“Ms. Stark?”

At first, you didn’t turn around. It didn’t even register in your head that you in fact were a Stark.

Only when they repeated themselves did you turn your attention to the man and his assistant. You gave the best smile you could, red lined lips flashing white teeth with what you hoped to be kind.

“That’s me,” you said, trying to sound like you genuinely wanted to be there even as your palms sweated and your heart raced. “Although, I don’t go by that name.”

The man gave a nod. “Right. My apologies. But if you don’t mind me asking… are you related to Tony Stark in any way?”

Your smile nearly slipped, stomach dropping like a stone just settled in it. “No.” The lie came smoothly—as it usually did. “Just a fun coincidence.”

For the rest of the meeting, they didn’t question it again.

Dex knew it was a lie.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but was it really eavesdropping if they were speaking out loud? Besides, she didn’t even need to say anything for him to know she was lying about who her father really was. A persons tell was easy to spot when you knew when to look for it—a shift in tone, the twitch of an eye, the subtle curl of their fingers. And that slight little drop at the corner of her lips told him everything.

Not that he cared. It was his job.

When he was recruited into the FBI, he didn’t expect to be assigned to Fisk’s protection detail. Better yet, he didn’t expect to spend all of his time in a fancy hotel serving Fisk meals on a silver platter.

Now, he stood by the grand staircase in the lobby, hands clasped in front of him as he surveyed the open floor plan. Guests bustled about with their luggage on bellman carts, people on business trips strutted through in dark glasses, locals choosing to sit at the hotel bar/restaurant.

It was a boring day for Dex. There was no action to be taken care of and no threats to detain. Even on lookout he took the time to listen on people’s conversations.

Maybe then he might get a smidge of entertainment.

Time had a way of holding memories hostage. Sometimes a moment could be held onto for years, decades even given the circumstances. Other times time made people forget.

That’s what happened to Dex.

In a buzzing hotel lobby, his past had no jurisdiction over him anymore. Dex didn’t wallow in self pity or think back on his rocky childhood. There was no need. He had found a therapist, served in the military, worked for a suicide hotline, and now was part of the FBI. He’d moved on with his life.

For the most part.

2003, Portsmouth, New Hampshire

Somehow, someway, his life had been put on steadier ground. The boys home was the same as ever but he wasn’t as alone as he was before he met his therapist.

Dr. Mercer was everything Dex never knew he needed. After the baseball incident, she’d been working with him ever since. And he was terrified to know what his life would look like without her.

But at the end of the day, he was still a teenage boy. His mind may not have worked the same as the other boys but he no longer felt like he was constantly standing on shifting sands. Mostly, he had control. Being medicated and having the help of Dr. Mercer really made a difference for a boy who once had nothing but a drawer of drawings and a baseball.

If only for a little while, he had the chance to be normal.

The sun was high in the sky as Dex made his way down to the corner store. His beat up sneakers kicked rocks down the sidewalk, watching them skitter over concrete in precise lines. An old song played in his headphones as he rolled a coin between his fingers.

The bell above the door chimed open as he entered, keeping his music playing. Life was better when he had other people’s thoughts looping through his mind, he found.

As he pulled open the fridge door to grab a cool drink, he noticed a group of teens his age.

There was two guys and three girls. The boys were wearing faded t-shirts with a long sleeve underneath and washed out baggy jeans. Two of the girls wore low rise jeans, tight shirts, and had necklaces dangling from their necks.

But the other girl caught his eye.

She was wearing a skirt instead and a cream colored halter top with bracelets that clinked together on her wrists. Her feet were adorned in matching heels and her lips glistened with pink lipgloss.

Dex was used to seeing kids his age, especially now that he was almost eighteen. But this particular group of teenagers put him off a little bit. They seemed to be laughing, which he didn’t know what could be so funny in a little convenient store. Turning away towards the register, he decided they weren’t worth his time.

After paying for his beverage, he exited without looking back. Today felt like a good day. Something Benjamin Poindexter didn’t get to have most times.

There was a tap on his shoulder.

Dex wanted to just keep walking. He could already feel his patience slipping and he hadn’t even looked at who had grabbed his attention.

Despite his burning desire to ignore them, he slowly turned around, slipping one headphone off his ear. In front of him was the girl from inside with the bracelets. For a long moment he studied her. She felt… familiar, almost. To him, it was off putting. He didn’t know many people, not familiar with faces.

But there was something about her he couldn’t place.

The girl was holding a cigarette. She held it up without a care in the world. “Do you have a lighter?”

Her words pulled him out of whatever trance he’d gone into. Blinking, he shook his head and stepped back. “No. I don’t.”

She sighed, looking down at her painted toes. “That’s okay.”

Dex barely gave a curt nod and went to walk away when she stopped him again. “Have I seen you before?”

Now a little further away, he faced her. Gosh, she was annoying he thought. But he had to admit she’d voiced the same thing that crossed his mind.

“I don’t think so,” he replied bluntly, his fingers flexing around the now condensing bottle in his hand.

“Hmm,” she hummed and the sound made his mind buzz with familiarity. “Well, maybe I’m thinking of somebody else then.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

She bit her lip for a second before holding up the cigarette again. “These things suck. I’ve been trying to quit.”

Why would he care? Smoking never seemed appealing to him. This random girl wouldn’t change that for him.

He watched her hair flutter in the light breeze. She didn’t falter under his heavy gaze, instead she glanced back towards the doors. “They’re a lot sometimes. Honestly? I don’t think they really care about me either.”

And neither do I Dex wanted to say because right now he just wanted to put his music back on and leave the public behind.

Yet for some reason when she met his eyes again, he didn’t feel quite as annoyed anymore. She flashed him a smile. It was almost eager, like she had been waiting for this moment.

Her friends walked out and before she could say anything more, he disappeared down the sidewalk.

Later that day he took a walk, wanting to stay away from the orphanage since there wasn’t really anything to do there.

His legs carried him down by the water, smelling salt and something fishy. And something like a strong plant.

Dex hadn’t meant to follow the sound of someone humming but eventually he found himself looking down at the girl from the store.

She was sitting on the docks, tucked away behind some old cargo crates with smoke billowing from her mouth. Not cigarette smoke. Weed.

“Oh,” she said softly in surprise. “Hello again.”

Knowing he should probably walk away and leave her to get high by herself, Dex couldn’t get his feet to move. His eyes were locked on the joint between her fingers as it burned.

Then, for no logical reason whatsoever, he found himself sitting beside her, trading the joint back and forth. He’d never been high before as the effects began to settle in, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it.

It wasn’t long before they were lying on their backs. The girl had a motor on her mouth, talking and talking and talking about every single thing her mind could conjure. Something about rich fathers and rare bird species.

Dex stayed silent while she yapped his ear off. With his smoke addled mind, he was only halfway paying attention.

Even then, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

He’d never really had a true crush before. There were so many other things in his life that he was focused on that something as silly as a crush never existed.

But there was something about you that he couldn’t seem to comprehend why he was so drawn to.

And when you were up and gone, Dex never wondered if you’d come back. For once in his life he let the moment be fleeting.

Present day

He could’ve spotted her from a mile away.

You.

He’d seen you walk into the Presidential Hotel. At first he was just making sure there weren’t any threats but then he noticed your hair. The same strands that he remembered spilling over your shoulders. Then he spotted the smudged graphite on your fingertips. An artists hand.

Now Dex wasn’t completely sure that he was seeing the girl he knew all that time ago. It might’ve been a stretch considering how many years had passed and how he was in a complete different state now. Portsmouth was barely a distant memory for him.

And yet he’d recognize that face anywhere.

That day on the dock, no matter how much weed he’d smoked, he remembered the way your lips had wrapped around the joint. How the smoke poured out like gray silk. Your eyes had been glassy, wide with passion for whatever it was that you were talking about. The one whose pages he still kept hidden in a box buried in his closet along with that watch. Hidden relics he hadn’t seen in forever and yet still held onto them for unknown reasons.

Here you were.

Different.

Much different.

Dex shifted from where he stood like a silent sentinel, trying to seem like he was just doing his job. His eyes tracked you, watching the way you kept your hand in your pockets. Seemed like life had put a dent in your youthful confidence.

He couldn’t believe you were here. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his shoulders were tense.

The past had a way of vanishing and then slipping through cracks that had been messily covered up. Dex thought he’d rid himself of any ties connecting him to who he used to be.

Turns out he was wrong.

He watched as you interacted with two people dressed in finery. They looked professional, legit. Part of him wanted to know more. Who were you after all this time? Where had life taken you?

Even from afar he heard the click of boots on tile as you headed towards the bar area, red lips moving fast just like in his memory. Although for how much you talked, he never knew your name. Suddenly, that’s all he wanted to know.

At one point in time you’d been kind to him. Albeit that you left, he’d found you again at that convenient store and now again at his place of work. Life was different for both of you now. Maybe you would remember him to.

Dex almost immediately shut that idea down. Why would you remember him? There was no answer he could give.

All those times you’d gifted him something shouldn’t have been affecting him this far down the line. But what if it could be that way again?

Two nameless people giving and receiving from each other.

What could be the harm?

The meeting with the publisher was about the equivalent of a small earthquake. Unfortunately, you weren’t very surprised. Everything seemed to have been going well. Smiles over wine, discussing how your art could be incorporated into something that could put you on the map. That was until you realized they were only trying to take credit for it all.

You’d paid for the wine. Then threw the white liquor into the publishers pressed suit.

For over the past year you’d felt like you were stuck in a never ending Monday. Every day felt like you had to pull yourself out of bed, most times with a hangover, and trudge through your day and do it all over again.

Today was no different except for the fact you were tired of living in everybody else’s shadow.

The quiet of your apartment was interrupted by the sound of you barging in, tossing your purse on the counter and making a beeline for the bottle of hard liquor. Without so much as a glance, you snatched it and ripped the cork out.

It burned going down your throat but it felt better than the disappointment your heart still ached with.

“Everyone sucks,” you grumbled under your breath, the bottle hanging lose from your hand as you walked over to the sofa and sank down into the cushions.

Becoming a functioning alcoholic had never been on your radar until your loneliness caught up to you. No mother who cared. A father who never wanted to take care of his daughter. Friends who would’ve jumped at the chance to hang out with you if they knew you were a Stark.

Some days it felt like you’d been screwed over since the beginning. The second Tony had given your mother the opportunity to get out of the city, she took it. New York could’ve been your home instead of that town you hated.

You just wanted to be something to someone. Simple as that.

Hours had passed and you stirred from the sleep you hadn’t meant to fall into. New York’s lights were twinkling outside your window, the sun having set a while ago.

A groan dragged from your throat as you rubbed at your head where an ache was forming. Down on the floor was the empty bottle of liquor. Your coat was twisted and your hair was a mess.

To put it bluntly, you felt disgusting.

After a hot bath in which you did just about everything, you slipped into a large shirt and made yourself a microwave dinner with a glass of wine.

When this became your life, you weren’t sure. Maybe it happened between the time you actually enjoyed your life during college and when you realized no one cared enough to reach out and ask how you were doing from time to time.

For a long time it’d just been you. Walking around in the dark shadows of people who only wanted something from you and then left once they got it.

“What am I doing?” a whisper from you to yourself in the emptiness of your apartment.

Soft tapping came from your window.

You nearly broke your neck with how fast your head turned towards the sound. By the fire escape, you didn’t see anything. There was no one playing a prank. Not even a web slinging vigilante.

Curiosity got the best of you as you set your food down and approached the window cautiously. You glanced all around before carefully sliding it open.

Nothing.

“Hmm.” You were about to shut it when something on the windowsill caught your eye.

A single shining coin.

You weren’t sure how it got there. It wasn’t like people just decided they were going to climb the fire escape, especially since it was a safety hazard. And why would someone just leave money lying around?

Despite the fact your food was getting cold, you stuck half of your body out of the window and looked up. How would a coin have landed so perfectly?

With a sigh, you picked up the shiny copper. Bringing it to the light, your breath caught.

This wasn’t just any coin. It was a 1943 Copper Lincoln Penny. You only remembered the design from back when your step father showed you his collection of rare coins. He’d given you one—the one you were holding now.

Then the memory hit you.

That boy from the orphanage. Lyndhurst, wasn’t it?

That felt like a lifetime ago now. But the past had a funny thing about becoming the future.

Back then you’d only ever wanted a friend. Seems like things hadn’t completely changed. For the longest time after your mother had banned you from giving your drawings to that boy, you told yourself you’d go back for him.

And you had.

At seventeen you’d run into him at that corner store, the one closest to your home and where all the young people went to bribe the cashier for smokes or cheap liquor.

You recalled how annoying your friends had been that day. Come to find out they were only your friends because of the wealth your family possessed. Then you’d seen him walk in.

He didn’t remember you. But you had remembered him and didn’t have the guts to tell him.

And when you had smoked that weed with him on the docks? You wished every day after that you had asked for his name. Because he had listened. Even though you could never remember what words were spoken, he had been the only one who paid attention.

The penny you held now was like a token of the past.

It was one of the items you had gifted to him. Yet another thing of your stepfathers that you’d given away for a good reason.

Maybe this was just a coincidence and you were reading into it too much but the more you stared at it, the more you could see his face piece together behind your eyelids.

Was he in the city? Did he recognize you after all those years? How did he find you? Was it even him?

“Jeez,” you breathed out, running a hand down your face. Maybe you really were losing it.

But for the inkling of a chance you weren’t, you rummaged around some and found one of your recent drawings of a red-tailed hawk.

Once it was settled on the windowsill, you knew you had been pulled right back into the game.

[lvely-prose]

https://www.tumblr.com/lvely-prose/812215828192821248/pretty-when-you-cry

ohhh bby this one hurt so bad but you wrote that soooo beautifully you’re soo talented :(( there’s not many mikey fics but this one is just so so amazing i dont even have the words

oh my goodness this is so sweet. that actually means so much to me and i’m so glad you enjoyed reading it 🥹🫶🏼 i love writing about Mikey and im so happy to hear that you liked it

[lvely-prose]

— hello lovelies!!

Hi! Sooo I’ve never made a post like this before but I just wanted to say how grateful I am for all the support on my fics. It genuinely means so much to me that you enjoy my work.

Thank you so so so much for 300 followers!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 I’m so grateful for every one of you.

I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember. Being able to share my stories and words to others is such a blessing. For all of you who read my work, thank you from the bottom of my heart ~ Pae 🤍

[lvely-prose]

— pretty boy

pairings: benjamin poindexter x fem! stark reader

synopsis: no words were spoken to the other. not a friendly hello or a name to be recalled. nothing to hang onto. but as all young children are curious, you left him a gift. simple. kind. only because he looked like he had had a bad day. it was the kindest thing someone had ever done for him. so he returned the favor. all up until they were gone.

word count: 2.8k

warnings/content: mental illness, dex killing his coach with a baseball (as it is in the show), flashback beginning, people being rude to dex, abandonment, mentions of abuse

pae speaks ~ this is the ‘prologue’ of sorts to this series. it will establish dex and the readers pasts and their previous connection. i hope you enjoy <3

1995 | Portsmouth, New Hampshire

There was a boy wearing a black bullseye cap. He didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone except the Lyndhurst Home for Boys. The orphanage stood on the end of a narrow street, surrounded by trees shedding autumn leaves and a wrought iron fence. To most children, the place looked like a towering prison only because of its rows of old wooden posts and ancient window frames that lined the walls.

Lyndhurst was the best orphanage in the state. There was a routine. The boys stuck by it. They participated in activities, getting to go outside the four walls nearly every day unless they were bedridden with a fever or something else just as bad.

For the boy in the bullseye cap, it was different.

He was isolated from his peers, choosing to stay away from them. The only reason he didn’t have a place to call home was because his parents had passed on.

They left him all alone. Now, he was too afraid someone else might choose to abandon him. Death wasn’t random. It wasn’t a choice. But to him, it was easier to blame them for taking the easy way out.

Autumn had arrived. Portsmouth was filled with red, yellow, and orange, dried leaves blowing down every corner of the town. There was a chill in the air now, the breeze from the coast sweeping through like a guest who showed up annually.

Perfect baseball weather.

Dex sat in front of a brick wall, a metal plaque reading Lyndhurst Home for Boys next to the hole he was drilling into the red brick. A rhythmic thunk resounded in the open air. The baseball was doing more damage to the wall than the boy thought was possible. Although, he had been doing this since he arrived there. Time had finally weathered it down. The boy knew the headmaster didn’t like it. He did it anyway.

Coach Bradley had said it was good practice. The validation was only part of why he kept going. People around knew the boy was skilled. Perfectionist even at ten years old. His joints were like oiled hinges—no friction, just ease. One day he was going to pitch a perfect game, he was sure of it.

The boy knew nothing but the orphanage and baseball. That was his life.

Then there was you.

The boy was sat in his usual spot, staring straight ahead at the overgrown vines that the headmaster had only cut around the Lyndhurst sign. The hole was only getting deeper as the baseball kept pounding into it.

A melodic hum then drifted with the breeze and into his ears. No one usually ever came close to the orphanage unless there was a new boy arriving or some of the older boys went out for the day.

But the sound of the hum wasn’t male. It was light and feminine, like that of a doves song.

The boy held the baseball in the glove as he drew his attention to where it was coming from.

A few feet away, he made out the outline of a girl.

Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders and back like a veil. Even from a distance he could see how her feet didn’t reach the ground. She was young, just like him.

But where were her parents? Why was she sitting on a bench in front of a home for boys by herself?

Her head was bent, eyes trained on something in her lap. From his view he couldn’t make out what it was. Maybe she was just waiting for something. Maybe she was praying. Maybe she was just enjoying the cool autumn breeze.

Whatever it was wasn’t his business and the boy never really had been interested in girls before.

When he went to continue his practice, she lifted her hand. In it was a graphite pencil. So she was drawing. Usually he wouldn’t care. Why would he care about some random girl who could draw?

That’s when he saw it.

She shifted, turning slightly so he could see her profile—the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the ridge of her brows. Balanced on her knee was a sketchbook and on the cream-tinted paper was a bird. Thin gray lines made up the wings, dark shading giving it depth. A single black raven. For someone her age it was mighty impressive to the boy who also took interest in drawing.

His eyes drifted up towards her face again before following the direction in which her gaze went.

Across the street perched a lonesome raven. Its sleek black feathers rustled softly with the breeze. The bird was just sitting on the fence, head cocking only occasionally.

What’s so special about a raven? the boy thought.

Clearly, she was intrigued.

Then her eyes met his.

It was a simple glance. Just a survey of your surroundings. To take note of the strangers on the street just like your father had taught you.

This boy didn’t have parents, you realized. You’d seen the sign out front. Lyndhurst. A boys home for those who’d been orphaned. You couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like to be without your parents. Even though your father was a billionaire who didn’t have time to raise a kid, you still got to live with your mother here in Portsmouth.

On a walk, you’d seen the raven. It was by itself, minding its own business without a care in the world. The sidewalk was empty, giving it space to exist without interference.

Knowing your mother was just down the street in some boutique, you’d quietly slipped away and took a seat on the bench in front of the orphanage.

Ever since you’d been gifted the leather bound sketchbook for your birthday, you’d taken it everywhere. You drew just about anything and everything that caught your interest, including a lot of random things most people wouldn’t pay attention to.

It was an escape from the reality of where you came from. You came from a family of wealth (mostly because your father had sent your mother off with money) so growing up in an old mansion in the South End, you were alone a lot of the time. Your mother and all her pageant schemes took away from the love she should’ve been giving to her children. She only seemed to care about looking young and upholding her reputation. As for your father, he was too busy running Stark Industries and other things you never understood.

Here you were now, staring into the eyes of a boy who had no family.

You noticed the cap on his head. The white bullseye symbol caught your attention first. Maybe it’s his team name you thought.

He looked away quickly, almost like he was embarrassed about being caught. As he went back to throwing the baseball into the good sized hole in the brick wall, you noticed how upset he looked.

There were many things you could think of as to why he was that way. But none of them even scraped the surface.

You turned your attention back to the journal on your knee, suddenly feeling the need to brighten his day with a kind gesture. For the longest time that’s all you ever did.

As your feet hit the concrete, you started to head over to a nearby patch of flowers. They were in one of the planters lining the sidewalk, a group of small white buds clustered together. Carefully, you plucked a few stems and arranged them neatly.

The boy was too occupied to notice you slip your arm between the fence bars, lying the bundle of flowers on the concrete without a word.

That’s when your name was called.

Your head whipped to the side to see your mother storming down the street. Her curls were pinned behind her head and she reminded you of a model.

When she reached you, she gripped your arm tight, yanking you away from the fence. “What do you think you’re doing, missy, hanging around this poor orphan boy?”

“Momma—”

“Look at him,” she snapped, scrutinizing the boy who was now throwing the baseball harder. “Vandalizing the only place that’d take him in. What a selfish little prick.”

You were almost knocked off your feet when she began to drag you away. “But my journal…”

She didn’t listen. All you could do was follow and hope the boy found your gift.

Gifts were a very rare thing for the boy. He barely received any due to the lack of people in his life. But once he’d seen her place down those flowers, he wanted to think they were for him. So he took them.

In the following days they went from bright white to a dull yellow as they dried up and withered away on the single nightstand by his bed. Even when they were completely dead, he didn’t remove them. He didn’t understand why he kept them there but every night as he fell asleep he’d stare at them until he drifted off. A strange little girl had left them for him and for some reason the gesture made him feel like maybe there was someone else in the world who cared.

But it didn’t end there.

On a Wednesday afternoon, he found a watch. It was old but it was the nicest thing he’d seen in a while. So, again, he took it. He wore it every day, sometimes even forgetting to take it off before bed. It was how he finally learned to tell the time.

The next day when they let him outside, he watched for the girl instead of tossing the baseball.

With each stranger that passed by, he hoped to see the one with ink stained fingertips and curious eyes. The one who chose to be kind to him when no one else wanted to.

Unfortunately he never did see her.

Before he was called in for dinner, he decided to return the favor. Instead of receiving, he placed his worn baseball on the concrete slab before heading inside.

The second he was allowed to check, the boy rushed out to find that the baseball had been taken. And for once in a very long time he had smiled. And that wasn’t it.

In its place was a folded piece of paper. Trying and failing not to be too eager, he quickly unfolded it and found a simple drawing—a bullseye.

His hand automatically went to the stitched circles on his hat. She had noticed.

Every day after that the boy would wait. He threw the ball against the wall, watched the sidewalk, threw the ball, and repeat. But he never did see the girl. All he could imagine was her fingertips, colored in dark ink and her hair falling over her shoulders. To him, that was enough.

From then on, he clung to her drawings. With every baseball he left, she returned it with a drawing.

He looked forward to it every afternoon, having to wait too long in his opinion to see what she had made for him that day.

Then he had found her journal.

On a trip to the headmaster’s office, he’d seen it in the lost and found, the burgundy leather weathered and cracked. Despite knowing he could get in trouble, he stole it. But was it really stealing if he was going to return it?

That night he had sat in his small twin-sized bed, listening to the other boy chatter and play cards around him. The drawer next to him was filled with her drawings but now he had something even more valuable.

Many of the pages were filled with colorless pictures of random things—fountains, mailboxes, half of people’s faces, birds, teeth, lampposts, shells. It seemed she’d seen things he never even thought to look twice at.

Disappointment settled in when he came to the last picture—the raven. His fingers traced over the lines and immediately retracted them when he saw how easily it smudged.

The selfish part of him wanted to keep it. To know that none of the other boys could ever see something so unique and special as her drawings he felt were only for his eyes. He would’ve let that part win over if he hadn’t remembered the look on her face when her mother had dragged her away.

So, instead of a baseball, he had left the journal.

The next day he found the usual piece of paper. Except this one was lined and no pictures were present—just a few words he’d cling to forever.

Thank you for giving my journal back. You’re a very kind person ~ your friend

Then Dex began losing control.

On a particularly hard day, he was waiting for your gift to show up. He had started to rely on those personal little gestures to make everything in his brain quiet.

Until today.

There was no gift. The cement slab was bare. There was no paper, no colorful drawing, no trinket or gadget. Nothing.

Dex was back to angrily drilling a hole into the brick wall, so close to imagining it was her instead. He was so upset, frustrated beyond words that she had taken away the one thing that made him feel like he was seen. For months he felt like he actually had a friend. One who wanted to help him even though he’d only seen her once. Why did no one stay? She didn’t even know him really and she still left.

Coach Bradley came over. He was talking about how there was an upcoming game and the traffic was bad but Dex was hardly paying attention until he brought up the hole in the wall.

That’s when he brought up that he had a gift.

Instantly, Dex lit up when Coach Bradley handed him a brand new baseball glove. So he did get a gift after all.

On the field dressed in his striped jersey with Dex 3 written on the back, he was dead set on pitching a perfect game. If it’s perfect, they’ll come back.

Then Coach Bradley intervened, crushing Dex’s false hopes of his parents coming back.

So he crushed his coaches skull instead.

You were sound asleep when you woke up to a commotion downstairs. It was late. You went to bed early as usual but now your parents seemed to have disregarded their daughters need for a good nights rest.

With a small yawn, you put on your slippers and padded downstairs to find your mother nose deep in the newspaper with your step-father hovering over her shoulder. You yawned again, finally coming to.

It may have been late but you were still upset.

Your mother had found out about you giving those drawings to the orphan boy. She just about lost her mind when she found out you’d been leaving them every time you went to get the mail. When she did, she took away all your pencils, pens, markers, crayons—just about any and every drawing utensil she could find. All you could do was watch and cry.

When she looked up from the newspaper, her eyes got dark and she snapped her fingers.

Reluctantly, you headed over to her.

She shoved the paper in your face. “Do you see that? That little orphan boy murdered his coach!”

That’s when the world seemed to tip on his axis. You stared at the paper but you could barely make out the tiny words. You looked at your mother before up at your step-dad. He looked tired and confused.

Murder? You knew that was a bad thing. Of course you did. But a little boy? The one that had so kindly returned your journal to you? There was no way.

“Sweetheart,” he said, placing his hand on her silk covered shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t show—”

“She was giving him stuff!” The woman shouted. “She gave him your old watch!”

Even if you were to argue, there was no use. You had gifted the boy your step-father’s watch. Vaguely, you knew that orphans didn’t receive many gifts from anyone. So you stepped up.

You wanted to be the boys friend. He looked so alone sitting by himself, ricocheting that baseball like it was the only thing he knew. So you did what you could in hopes he got the message.

But now that there was no way she was going to let you go back there, there was no way for you to ever know if he wanted the same thing.

As your parents began arguing back and forth, you slipped back upstairs with silent tears streaming down your face.

Quietly, you slipped out a hidden piece of paper from where your mattress met the wall.

Unfolding it, you stared at the drawing you never got to give to him. You’d seen him in his baseball uniform once. Just enough of a glimpse for you to make a portrait of the boy who deserved a second chance.

Gently curved lines formed his shoulders and his head, his back turned to show the number 3 in bold. But the place where his name was supposed to be was blank. You hadn’t managed to catch that part.

Yet, you promised yourself you’d go back to him, just to let him know he wasn’t alone.

[lvely-prose]

— as the past does series

" you tried to wade in cause you wanted

just to tell me who you were "

pairings: benjamin poindexter x fem! stark reader synopsis: it all started in portsmouth, new hampshire. an orphan boy abandoned by everyone he’d ever loved and a rich girl who had never been properly cared for. they never knew each other. not really. just small things passed back and forth like peace offerings. then time happened. years flew by, dex trying to keep his head and you getting by on your own. all it took was one glimpse for an old, buried memory to surface and take root. and a single coin left on your windowsill was enough to pull you back into the game. pae speaks ~ hello lovely people! there is a tag list for this fic and just let me know if you’d like to join!! i hope you all enjoy <3 | divider by @angeliicide !! disclaimer: this fic will be loosely inspired by the song ‘dust bowl’ by ethel cain. time periods are not completely accurate considering there is no concrete date for the events taken place in daredevil season 3.

part 1 — pretty boy — 2.8k | fluff | past

no words were spoken to the other. not a friendly hello or a name to be recalled. nothing to hang onto. but as all young children are curious, you left him a gift. simple. kind. only because he looked like he had had a bad day. it was the kindest thing someone had ever done for him. so he returned the favor. all up until they were gone.

part 2 — watching, hoping — 3.7k | fluff | invisible string

dex had nearly forgotten all about that girl. almost. after joining the fbi, he didn’t think much of his bad childhood. not even the parts that were slightly better. as for you, getting away from your parents was your priority. so you moved to the city. little did you know a certain boy had found his way there too.

part 3 — his eyes (coming soon)

he was in the city and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you—the girl who haunted his memory. the game was on but since there were no set rules, it was every man for themselves. it was only a matter of time until one of them got too close.

DISCONTINUED AS OF 6/17/26