Hello my darlings! I’ve finally decided to produce my list of works for you all. I’ve also added a rec list of fics for each fandom for you to enjoy as a BIWoC!✨
Black writers
Song Prompts
Outer Banks
Rec List
Characters
I’m Sick of This | JJ Maybank
Sneak Peek for Wish You Well | JJ Maybank (BlWoC readers)
Summer in Bluebell Wade Kinsella x GN!Reader (AO3)
Summary: A summer cookout at the river is supposed to be nothing more than good food, old friends, and a long day in the Alabama sun, but something about the way Wade is looking at you through out the day changes a few things.
Tags: Fluff, Kissing, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Feelings Realizations, Friends to Lovers, Pet Names (Darlin', Sugar other country nicknames...), Yearning
a/n: I'm only on s1 so it might not be biblically accurate. Please enjoy, <333 If any pronouns are in here, I'm sorry and send me a dm to let me know. I'm trying to make my fics as GN as possible so all can enjoy.
dividers by uzmacchiato
The Alabama sun sits high and heavy over the river lot by the time you finish setting up the last folding table. Sweat beads at your temples, and you swipe at it with the back of your wrist, looking at the property with a bit of satisfaction. The old boathouse leans slightly to one side like it has for the past thirty years, the dock stretches out over water.
This place has been in your family longer than you've been alive. Every summer of your childhood happened here: scraped knees on the dock, the taste of river water, your mother's laughter carrying across the lawn. Now it's yours to maintain, yours to share, and on a Saturday in the thick of summer, that means opening it up to everyone you know and love.
Your phone buzzes. Lavon's texted that he's five minutes out. You're pulling sweet tea from the cooler when you hear tires on gravel.
The first vehicle that rolls up isn't Lavon's. It's a classic Chevelle-beat-up enough to be charming, polished enough to show he cares about it, and your stomach does something stupid and fluttery that you absolutely refuse to examine. Wade gets out from the driver's seat, all lazy confidence and sun-bronzed skin, wearing a faded t-shirt that's seen better days and a smile that hasn't.
"Well, hey there," he calls out, grabbing a case of beer from his Chevelle's trunk. "Figured I'd get here early, make myself useful for once."
"Wade Kinsella, useful?" You raise an eyebrow. "Should I be worried? Is this a sign of the apocalypse?"
"Darlin', I'm plenty useful." He sets the beer down near your cooler, and something about the way he says darlin' in such a casual way, like he's said it a thousand times, but it still makes your heart skip. "You just never ask for the right kind of help. You and Wade always seemed to have such a flirty friendship.
You're saved from having to figure out what Wade means by the arrival of Lavon's Lincoln followed immediately by George's vehicle. Within twenty minutes, the property transforms.
Annabeth arrives with homemade potato salad. Lemon steps carefully across the grass, in shoes entirely too nice for a river lot, with George trailing behind carrying enough supplies for a week-long camping trip.
"Lemon, you know we have plates here, right?" you ask, watching George unload what appears to be a complete dining set.
"I've seen your paper plates," Lemon says with a sniff. "They're flimsy. What if someone wants seconds of potato salad? The structural integrity would be completely compromised."
"God forbid," Wade mutters next to you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
Brick and Tom show up next, both of them immediately gravitating toward the horseshoe pit.
Someone starts the grill, and soon the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid mingles with sunscreen and cut grass. Kids from down the river show up, like they always do when they see trucks at your lot, and within an hour there are bodies launching themselves off the dock, their shrieks of laughter bouncing across the water.
You're barefoot in the grass, having kicked off your sandals sometime around noon, and the grass is warm and slightly damp beneath your feet. An old country station plays from someone's truck radio.
"You want a drink?"
You turn to find Wade standing there, holding out a bottle of beer. You hadn't asked for one. Hadn't even thought about it yet.
"How'd you know I wanted one?" you ask, taking it from him.
Wade shrugs, that easy smile playing at his lips. "Just seemed like the right time." You twist off the cap and take a long drink, the cold cutting through the heat in your throat. Wade watches you for a moment, just a moment before Brick calls him over to help with the grill, and he ambles away.
You tell yourself the flutter in your chest is just the cold beer hitting your system.
The afternoon drifts. You find yourself at the picnic table where Annabeth and Wanda are setting out food, and you're reaching for a chip when you realize you're not grabbing from the communal bowl. You're stealing a handful from the plate Wade left sitting there, the one he'd piled high with his particular combination of chips, pickles, and what looks like half a burger.
You freeze with a chip halfway to your mouth. "He won't miss a few."
"Uh-huh." Annabeth's smile is knowing in a way that makes you want to throw a pickle at her. But you eat the chips anyway. And when Wade comes back and sees his half empty plate, he just laughs, low and warm and says, "Help yourself, sugar," before sliding the whole plate toward you.
Sugar.
You clear your throat. "I was just-"
"I know what you were doing." Wade's eyes crinkle at the corners. "You've been stealing food off my plate since we were in high school."
Have you? You try to remember, but the memories blur together bonfires and football games and late nights at the Rammer Jammer. Maybe you have, this is just what you do with Wade, this casual intimacy that you've never bothered to name.
"Horseshoes!" Brick calls out. "We need teams!"
Wade looks at you, "partners?" he asks.
"Only if you promise not to throw like you did last Fourth of July," you say. "I'm still traumatized."
"That was one bad throw, okay, I think I can handle it."
"It ended up in the river, Wade."
You're laughing as you follow him to the horseshoe pit, and somehow your shoulder bumps against his arm, and neither of you moves away. The game is less about horseshoes and more about the four of you talking trash and laughing so hard you can barely throw straight. Wade stands behind you at one point to 'show you the proper form,' his hand warm on your elbow, his voice low near your ear.
"You gotta follow through, darlin'. Like this."
He guides your arm through the motion, and you're aware of every point of contact: his chest near your back and his breath on your neck. You manage to throw the horseshoe, and it actually rings the stake.
"See?" Wade's voice is full of pride, like he's personally responsible for your win. "Natural."
You turn your head to respond and find his face closer than you expected. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, close enough to count the freckles the sun's brought out across his nose.
"Lucky shot," you manage.
"Luck's got nothing to do with it." He steps back, grinning. "That's all skill, baby."
Baby. Oh, hell. You win the game barely and Wade celebrates by lifting you clean off your feet in a hug that lasts two seconds too long to be purely friendly. When he sets you down, his hands linger on your waist, and you're suddenly aware of how much you don't want him to let go.
"Boat ride!" Lavon announces. "Who's coming?"
A group forms quickly: Lavon, George, Annabeth, you, and Wade. The boat has been in your family almost as long as the lot itself, and it putters out onto the river. The sun is starting its descent, turning the sky shades of orange and pink. You end up sitting next to Wade on the back bench, thighs pressed together. The boat rocks gently, and every small movement pushes you closer to Wade's side.
His arm stretches out along the back of the bench. Not around you, exactly, but close enough that you can feel the warmth of it behind your shoulders.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Wade says quietly, and you realize he's not looking at the sunset. He's looking at you looking at the sunset.
"Yeah," you say, not turning your head. "Really pretty."
His fingers brush your shoulder. Once, twice. Like he's testing something, or maybe like he can't help himself, but you don't move away. The boat ride last about another twenty minutes before Lavon is heading back to the dock.
Back on shore, the sun is properly setting now, and someone's started the fire. The group gravitates toward it naturally, pulling chairs and blankets into a loose circle around the ring.
You can't take your eyes off him.
The firelight catches in his hair, on his face, making shadows dance across his features. Every time Wade glances up and catches your eye across the fire. Every time he smiles at something someone says, that easy, genuine smile that makes your chest ache.
You realize, suddenly and completely, that you don't want this day to end. More specifically, you don't want this... whatever this is with Wade to end. The thought should scare you. Instead, it settles into your chest like it's been waiting there all along.
"I should head out," Lavon says eventually, checking his phone. "Got an early meeting with the county commissioner tomorrow."
Lemon stands a few mintues after Lavon, brushing invisible dirt from her dress. "Finally. The mosquitoes here are absolutely vicious."
"You've been sitting by the fire for two hours, Lemon," George points out. "The smoke keeps them away."
Lemon makes some kind of irritated noise before George gets the message and starts gathering their things. George gives you an apologetic look as Lemon pulls him toward their car. "Great party. Really. We'll have to do it again soon."
Eventually everyone packs up their stuff in their vehicles and heads off the bumpy road that leads to the main one. Before you know it, it's just you and Wade and the dying fire. The silence should be awkward, but it's not.
Wade pokes at the embers with a stick. "Hell of a day."
"Yeah," you agree. "It was."
You should probably start cleaning up. Should gather the plates and cups, should make sure the grill is properly off, should do all the responsible host things you're supposed to do.
Instead, you stand up and walk toward the dock. The wood is warm under your feet, still holding the heat. You walk to the very end and sit down, letting your legs dangle over the edge. The sky is deep purple now, scattered with stars.
You're thinking about Wade. About his hands on your waist after the horseshoe game. About the way he said darlin' and sugar like the words were made for you. About how many times today you found yourself next to him without planning it, without trying.
The dock creaks softly, and you don't have to turn around to know it's him. Wade settles beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. He doesn't say anything at first, just sits there with his own feet dangling, looking out at the water.
"Pretty night," Wade says finally.
"Yeah."
"Pretty day, too."
Another silence. His shoulder presses more firmly against yours, and you realize he's shifted closer.
"Can I tell you something?" Wade's voice is quieter now, more serious than you're used to hearing it.
Your heart kicks up. "Okay."
"I didn't come early to be helpful." He's still looking at the water, not at you. "I came early because I wanted to see you. Before everyone else got here. Just... you."
Oh. Oh.
"Wade-"
"And all day," he continues, like now that he's started he can't stop, "all day I kept finding reasons to be near you. Kept looking for you in the crowd. Kept thinking about how your laugh sounds, and how you steal food off my plate, and how you fit perfectly under my arm during that hug, and..." He stops. Takes a breath. "And I think I've been doing this for a while. Longer than just today. I just didn't let myself see it."
You turn to look at him, and he finally turns to look at you.
"Darlin'," Wade says, and this time when he says it, you feel it everywhere—in your chest, in your stomach, in the tips of your fingers. "I really want to kiss you right now."
"Yeah," you breathe. "Yeah, okay."
He moves slowly, giving you time to change your mind, time to pull away, but you don't. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and the touch is so gentle it makes your throat tight.
When his lips meet yours, it's soft. You make a small sound, and Wade takes it as permission to deepen the kiss. His other hand finds your waist, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you reach up to fist your hand in his shirt. The kiss breaks for just a moment, both of you breathing hard, and Wade rests his forehead against yours.
"Jesus," he mutters.
"Yeah."
"Can I-"
"Yes."
You don't even know what he's asking, but the answer is yes. Yes to all of it. This time when he kisses you, it's deeper and hungrier. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you open for him, tasting beer and smoke and something that's just Wade. Your hands move from his shirt to his hair, fingers threading through it, and he groans low in his throat.
The sound does something to you. Unravels something. You shift closer, practically climbing into his lap there on the dock, and Wade's hands tighten on your waist, holding you steady, holding you close.
"Sugar," he murmurs against your mouth, and the word sends heat spiraling through you.
You've never been kissed like this. Like he's been waiting for this and now that he has it, he never wants to stop. You don't want to stop either. Wade's mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses down to the sensitive spot below your ear, and you gasp, tilting your head to give him better access. His teeth graze your skin and you actually whimper.
"You like that, darlin'?" His voice is rough, wrecked, and you've never heard anything sexier in your life.
"Yes," you breathe. "God, yes."
He comes back to your mouth, and this kiss is slower but no less intense. Deep and thorough, like he's trying to learn every inch of you. Your hands roam over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt, and you think distantly that you should probably slow down, should probably think about what this means.
You're not sure how long you stay like that minutes or hours, time has lost all meaning, but eventually you have to break apart to breathe. You're both panting, foreheads pressed together, hands still clutching at each other like you're afraid to let go.
"Holy hell," Wade says.
You laugh, breathless and giddy. "Yeah."
"I don't..." He stops, swallows hard. "I don't want this to end."
"Me neither."
"So let's not let it." He pulls back to look at you properly, and his expression is so open, so honest, it makes your chest ache. "Stay. Stay here with me. We can sit on this dock all night if you want. I don't care. I just, I don't want you to go."
"I'm not going anywhere," you promise, and you mean it. You mean it more than you've meant anything in a long time.
Wade's smile is so bright you can't help but mirror it. He shifts so you're tucked against his side, his arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, still racing, matching your own.
"This is crazy," you say quietly. "We've known each other for years."
"I know."
"Why now? Why today?"
Wade is quiet for a moment, his hand tracing absent patterns on your arm. "Maybe it's always been now. Maybe we just finally stopped pretending it wasn't."
You think about that. About all the times over the years when you found yourself looking for Wade in a crowd. About how his laugh always made you smile. About the way you felt comfortable with him in a way you weren't with anyone else.
Maybe he's right. "I'm glad we stopped pretending," you say.
⤷ ✶ Shane Maguire follows you to your room while the party continues downstairs ✶
Warnings: Shane is dad's best friend! Smoking. Explicit Sexual Language. Unprotected sex. Risky sex. Exactly one use of "daddy" (I really tried not to y'all! but he's so yummy). Breeding kink and cockwarming if you squint. Shane is a menace.
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: As usual, English is not my native language, so please let me know if you find any grammar or spelling mistake.
Hope you enjoy!
If you could, you'd have already screamed at Shane Maguire. Alas, there was too many people in the damn party your father decided to throw last minute.
It is early June and the wind blowing through your childhood bedroom is cold, enough to push you to wear the ugly but warm cardigan you found somewhere in the house.
The crack on the floor behind the closed door makes you turn around like a deer in the headlights, but you quickly remember you no longer are the teenager who used to smoke in secret. If your parents didn't like a smoker in the house you'd gladly stay the rest of the holiday on a hotel somewhere else.
The cigarette burns your fingertips, as if it's on your parents side, and you hiss. You throw the butts in the ashtray.
"I thought I'd find you here," murmurs the voice you least wanted to hear.
"Don't act like this is normal, Maguire." The deep breath do little to calm you. "In fact, if you could just leave my room, that'd be great."
"So you don't mind if I stay in the house?"
The malice in his tone isn't lost to you, it is ignored. You don't dare face him either, that is, until the door banged so loudly you chastise him.
"Sorry, angel. Don't you want your father to know I'm here?"
"You know damn well why that is. Don't play coy now."
Shane is so close now the smell of him infects everything, stronger than the nicotine. The glint coloring his eyes is not unfamiliar to you, but it's a danger you can't afford to get trapped by.
The things left unsaid burn more than the actual words could. The windowsill hits hard against your back when you step back. The ashtray makes a loud thud when it finds the lawn all the way down — you jump.
"Fuck."
"It's okay, angel." His arms surround you, feeling the texture of the ugly cardigan on your hip and back. "Your parents already moved to the front porch."
Fighting him previously proved to be useless, so you do the next dumb thing. Shane smiles when your hands find his nape.
"What are you doing here, Shane?" You yank his hair, pulling him close. "We had an agreement — not to make our life miserable. You're not supposed to come to my house!"
"Ow! Keep your claws away!" He grab your wrists in his hands and you fight him despite yourself. It is too attempting.
"Let go of me first!"
"No!" he hiss into your mouth. The hold he has in you is steady, you fighting did nothing but bring you closer. "I didn't come to your house. I haven't been there since last spring, as you may remember. I'm at my friend's."
"You know what I meant."
"Will you stop it? I'll let go"
"You've proven you can't let go of me."
He groans and you feel the humming deep in his chest, but let go.
"Dammit."
"Shane," you try to reason. "Please. This is futile. You know we can't."
And yet…, he thought, noticing you failed to step away from him. Your warmth still burns his skin.
"You're right," he allows, for your sake. "I can't keep away from you. I don't want to. And the agreement was to keep away to not make us suffer."
In the end, it was you whom broke the distance and kissed him.
But it was him who pulled you closer still to him. Him who deepened the kiss. Him who lifted your skirt all the way up.
"Shane. C'mon," you push his chest, turn your face. But there's no real fight in your tone and he catches it.
"Don't worry," he smile between kisses in your cheek and neck. "Let me take care of you."
He pushes you up into the windowsill and you gasp. The fucker uses the opportunity to kiss you again, working his tongue on your open mouth. You're way too docile when he have his lips on you — at the back of your mind you make note to at least try to resist his ministrations the next time. Then he buries his hand on your hair and yank it — his revenge, you know — and you're putty on his hand.
He lower his kisses to your neck.
The thought of someone leaving the kitchen to walk the garden makes you shiver for all the wrong reasons and you beg Shane to hurry. But in truth you trust him not to expose you like this, he knows you are in a tight spot professionally and the party is but a ploy to launch your entry into a firm. There is important people present, your future defends on it.
All the more reasons this excites you.
The whine around his name that leaves your mouth is entirely involuntary when he squeezes your ass and thrust hard against your center.
"God, angel. I bet you're soaked," he whispers in your neck. He bite down hard, then kisses lazily in apology. "You weren't this needy the first time. Did you miss me?"
Your back arches. If you opened your eyes, you'd see your favorite constellation above you. You were too entertained with the feeling of his dexterous fingers against your pantyhose to care for anything else.
You almost lose the cue to answer him.
"Will you just fuck me already?" you squeeze him tighter, pressing your face on his chest. "You know we don't have much time."
"Oh, still bratty. That I remember."
You chuckle.
"You're right, though." He rips a hole in your pantyhose. "No time to play."
You help him out of his jeans, the belts clinking a lovely sound.
"You'll have to be quiet. Can you manage?"
"Yes," you whine. "Please, Shane. Just… hurry."
"As you wish, pretty girl. Take a deep breath."
Then he is inside you, all of his glorious length in one thrust — you are wet enough to make it go in smoothly.
The first moan was inevitable, you could only hope the following is muffled by his thick sweater.
If you had feared falling down before, it is in the past now. The grip Shane has on your back and nape is unmovable and he pulls you closer at each thrust of his hip. You cling unto his neck for life and moan with abandon. He too lets out groans of pleasure, but is ultimately better at keeping it down.
The party is still going downstairs but you can't help it. It had been too long since you last saw him. He smells the same as before, bark and musk and something entirely him — it leaves you inebriated. The wide of him fills you perfectly, the stretch makes you all the more wetter and eager. And he haven't shut up, whispering such filthy in that raspy tone you adored.
Then he pushes you against the wall, his dick somehow managing to go deeper than before. You have to bite your lip to hold the obscene moan threatening to fall off.
"Shane," you beg. Your leg work as a lock on his back, keep you secure in place. "Shane."
"I know, angel. I know. I'm close too."
He hips pistons unto you, reaching that special spot with accuracy, the noise maddening.
"Where do you want me?"
"Inside."
Shane groans at that. Its not like you have time to clean up after. And you want to keep him inside for longer.
Just the thought of it — of going back to the guests with the remains of him in you, smelling of his perfume — do the trick. You look up, chasing his lips, and ride the feeling the best you can, humping him as much as the thigh grip on your hips allow. The pantyhose is drenched in your fluids, Shane's cock fucks into you slower than before, erratically.
Soon enough, Shane is kissing and biting and moaning in union with you. His cock is so deep inside you. Having his arms around you gives a feeling of comfort and security.
You don't want to let go. You swallow it all.
"You're squeezing me so hard, angel"
"Daddy."
"Oh, baby, I know." He don't let go of you right away; instead, he allows you to have your moment and keep his dick inside of you. He kisses you cheek, petting your disheveled hair. "How do you feel now?"
"Better," you clear your throat. "Thank you, Shane."
"Don't thank me yet, angel." He uncross your legs and set you down. Legs wobbly.
"What do you mean?" You lean on him for support. Still vulnerable. Still pliable.
"I love you, angel. I'm not letting anyone take you away from me."
"I love you too, Shane," you smile, hugging his frame.
With his face buried in your hair, he takes a deep breath of you. Hugs you closer.
"Your parents saw us from the garden."
A/N: Before you ask, yes, I really meant to say it was cold in June. I imagine most readers are from the Northern Hemisphere (considering this fic is written in english)and it's spring for you guys, but here in the Southern Hemisphere it's autumn and it's cold.
I know that Shane lives in the United States and all that, but since it's fiction (and such a small detail) I took this liberty.
It's really not that big of a deal, probably no one took notice, but I wanted to clarify.
Likes and reblogs are always welcome! Let me know if you liked it!
shane who's an asshole to everyone but has a soft spot for you. he's the type of boyfriend to have a cold stare 24/7 but as soon as he sees you, his face softens. everyone always asks how you made a man like that to fall in love with you but you don't know. he just felt a spark with you the first time you met and pursued you ever since.
shane tries, really tries so hard to act tough with you but his facade comes apart the second he looks at your pretty eyes. part of him is just used to being mean and sarcastic with people but he just can't bring himself to give you a cold shoulder, especially for no reason.
shane who's amazing at holding eye contact. he enjoys staring at you and your features a bit too much for his liking. he starts scanning your eyes, nose, cheeks, lips whenever you're talking to somebody else. the thing is, he gets distracted without noticing. he could be in a group conversation inspecting you who's at the opposite side of the room - people around him notice and tease him.
shane loves any type of physical contact and does not give a shit about what other people think. he especially enjoys playing with your hair, curling it between his fingers. you get mad at him for messing up your hard work but it's an instinct - he can't stop. if his hands aren't on your hair then they're either resting on your lower back or on your shoulder.
shane doesn't like to admit that he loves nuzzling his face in your neck. especially late at night right before he's about to fall asleep. you just smell so good and your skin is so soft and he can't help it. if you ever mention it, he will either ignore you or bite back with some sarcastic comeback.
shane who's voice softens when he speaks with you. you don't even notice until your friends mention it - they were caught off guard when they heard him talking with you. he certainly didn't sound like that usually. after that you start noticing it too. for example, his voice is deep and raspy when he's talking to a waiter and as soon as you're in the picture, his voice just changes to a softer, gentler tone. you figured out he does it unintentionally because he didn't know what you meant.
shane does a lot of things that make your heart skip a beat. however, when he leans down on your level, tilts his head and teasingly asks "oh, yeah?" it makes your whole being go wild. your cheeks are flushed, your stomach's feeling butterflies. your whole body has a reaction whenever he's flirty. and another thing - whenever you're in the way - he always moves you aside with a hand on your waist and it makes you feel things.
shane is a type of boyfriend who ties your shoelaces and zips up your jacket. he just does it instinctively and you can't even complain. he also lets you fidget with his hands and lay your head on his shoulder whenever you feel stressed. shane never says no to you ever if you ask to borrow his jacket when you're cold outside.
shane may not seem like a husband material to everyone else but he's a fixer at home. if something is broken at home, best to know he'll fix it. you could be breaking down, not knowing how to solve the problem and as soon as you tell him about it, he's locked in. "I'll take care of it" he calms you.
shane who hates when people bother you. if someone is making you uncomfortable, he doesn’t care who they are. friends, strangers, people twice his size - they’re all getting the exact same cold stare. he won’t always say something right away. sometimes just standing beside you is enough. there’s something about the way he looks at people that makes them suddenly remember somewhere else they need to be.
shane who can never stay annoyed at you for long. maybe you’re teasing him, maybe you stole something of his again, maybe you’re trying not to laugh while he’s pretending to be serious. he’ll cross his arms and tell you to knock it off, but the moment you smile at him, whatever point he was trying to make completely disappears.
shane who secretly keeps things that remind him of you. little notes, random pictures, a hair tie you forgot about months ago. if anyone found out, he’d deny it until his last breath. but every single one of those things ends up tucked away somewhere safe because throwing them out never feels right.
shane who looks at you differently than he looks at anyone else. it’s subtle enough that he thinks nobody notices, but they do. there’s a softness there that only appears when you’re around, like all the sharp edges of his personality smooth out for a second. he could spend the entire day acting like the world annoys him, but the second his eyes find you, it’s obvious you’ve always been his favorite person.
tags: mdni; explicit sexual content; fem!reader; no use of y/n; manipulative asshole Shane; dark undertones; no seriously he’s an asshole here; dad’s friend Shane; age gap (all parties are consensual adults); block if you don’t like, don’t report, this is just a text
tags for this chapter: MDNI; strongly suggestive content; manipulative behavior; fem!reader; gun usage; shane is an asshole; use of pet names (sweetheart, babygirl, baby, sugar); slightly dubcon, but doesn’t get too far
words: 4,6k (lmao this was supposed to be a blurb)
You were expecting this summer like nothing else. You daddy was serving as a ranger in Yosemite national park for several years now, but he’s been quite reluctant to invite you to spend some time with your old man. He was either busy or just…worried, like all good fathers are sometimes.
However, this time? Oh, you were ready. You packed all your favorite clothes, gathered all the necessary means to make this vacation more pleasant. After all, you weren't an angsty teenager anymore (to be fair, you used to be) who hated nature and any implication of staying away from the big city in the summer.
Your dad greeted you with an open arms, telling you how happy he is to have you by his side this summer. That his princess is back again, and this particular summer? He is so ready to show you the wonderful nature of this park in all glory. He was just walking you to his personnel cabin, which was far away from the guest's side. He told you that despite common belief, rangers and staff weren’t living in a village in a big friend group, as people tended to think.
‘’Yeah?’’ you smile at him, carrying your baggage. “Who’s living the most far away?’’
Your dad’s face changed, like a shadow crossed it. But he quickly put on his usual kind gnome’s face, cheering you up and entertaining you like he planned.
‘’Nobody to worry about, my dear. Sometimes rangers go nuts in the wilderness.’’
That stuck with you for whatever reason. You weren’t going to pry, but…You guessed your curiosity for this massive landscape got the best of you, really. The park was so big and so beautiful, it was hard to imagine anything bad. Big mistake. Bad things happened everywhere. Anywhere if a man was involved, at least.
Your first week went smoothly, a bit drawled, though. Rangers approximately your age either were busy, or non-existent. Most of the folk were your dad’s age, maybe give or take 10 years. Your dad was your lovely company, bounding with his daughter and taking days off to show you waterfalls. You two were passing El Capitan in the horse’s saddle, and you noticed dots on a giant rock.
‘’Is there really people?’’ you asked with wonder, perking up your head high. ‘’My god, I can’t imagine climbing there even if they pay me to do it’’.
Your dad laughed, ‘’Fortunately for you, I don’t have the money for equipment. So you don't have to’’.
You turned your horse into a different direction, still processing the fact that people were just…doing that. Climbing that cliff with a safety net. What a weird hobby to have, no shade.
‘’Come on, I know a better spot’’, your father chuckled, maneuvering the horse into the woods.
‘’You don’t have a feeling of being watched?’’ you grumbled, tossing brunches off your face. Your gray horse made a puff with its mouth.
‘’These woods are ancient’’, he laughed heartedly. ‘’Who knows, girl. Maybe they are.’’
No, you had a feeling of being watched point-on. Like someone has made themselves comfortable on a wood floor, unblinking eyes tracking the way you moved in the saddle. Lazy gaze, sharp one. A target mark painted, fitting your frame into itself, like a drawn circle with a loving steady hand.
‘’So, have you made friends here?’’ you nudged his sore spot. Your dad never was the one for big city life, he was drowning in it. Too much noise, too many angry, delusional people. No, he was better off in the wilderness, making himself useful watching over the park territory.
‘’Stop it, you sound just like your mother’’, he grunted, rolling his eyes. ‘’Yes, I have. You happy?’’
‘’Will you tell me their names?’’ you teased him, your horse matching the stride of his. ‘’Horses don’t count’’.
‘’I have a few, okay? Not very friendly by themselves, but seem like nice folks. Some woman with a kid your age, a former doctor. And an ex army ranger.’’
‘’Ough, where’s the juicy gossip?’’ you laughed, your horse huffed in agreement.
‘’I can introduce her to you later.’’
‘’And an army guy?’’ you raised an eyebrow.
Your father stared at you with an unreadable look, his eyes shadowed by some deep worry, until he said firmly.
‘’If we’re lucky, you won’t see him for the rest of your stay here. And I would prefer it that way.’’
You didn’t press, feeling the nauseating tingle in your stomach. Maybe your dad was just protective, as usual. Maybe something was off, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
You were riding for another half an hour, until both of you reached the meadow. It was a marvelous sight, weeds and flowers moving with the wind. But best of all? A whole herd of deer and doe. Beautiful, eating grass and moving their ears. You stopped dead in the track.
‘’Come on’’, your dad nudged your side lightly. ‘’If we’re on a horse, we can ride through them. Want to see them up-close?’’
‘’Yeah’’, your lips barely moved. Like a goddamn Disney movie, the wind caught your hair, a few does whipped their heads up, sniffing. But they haven’t tried to run or fight.
‘’It’s not a mating season’’, your dad said quietly. ‘’So they’re okay with people being here until we bother them’’.
‘’Do rangers hunt stags?’’ you asked quietly, your body moving in the saddle like a ripple on the water.
‘’Yeah, hunters do’’, he nodded. ‘’Controlling the population, or they can get very aggressive, especially in rut.’’
You were trying to reply your dad, until…A loud, explosive gunshot. Stags and does went running in different directions, you covered your head with your hands. Luckily, you had a trained horse which didn’t went running too, though its definitely tried to jerk its body underneath you.
‘’What the fuck?’’ you said loudly, hearing your own heart beating in your throat a hundred miles per hour.
‘’Stay close’’, your dad said tensely, he was hauling his horse to stay still. He pulled out his own gun, pointing it to the woods that framed the meadow.
‘’Dad, what’s going on?’’ you yelped, anxiously holding the horse’s reins.
From the side of the woods, a dark figure moved, in the saddle too. Dark rider with a rifle.
‘’Goddamn it’’, your dad muttered through gritted teeth.
‘’What? Who is he?’’ you asked, narrowing your eyes to get a better look in the sun. Rider was getting close, until you could properly see his relaxed face and cocky smile. Not a polite one.
‘’Are you out of your mind, Shane?’’ your father spat, still holding a gun reluctantly, before he put it down.
‘’Sorry’’, the rider drawled lazily, ogling you. ‘’The rifle went out. Didn’t mean to scare y’all.’’
He wasn’t sorry at all, judging by his relentless shit-eating grin.
‘’I can take that to the sheriff’s office’’, your dad pointed out. ‘’You’re not supposed to shoot people, goddamn you’’.
‘’It was an accident’’, he murmured in a rough, smooth voice. ‘’Who is she?’’
‘’I’m his daughter’’, you said, despite the warning look from your father. You were trying to find any energy to talk through fear, something about Shane was…concerning.
‘’You haven’t mentioned you had one’’, Shane turned his sharp dark gaze to your dad. You should be offended, really. You should. But the words stuck down your throat, and you were worried that any sound coming off your mouth would be like doe’s bleating. ‘’Nice to meet you here, girl’’.
‘’We would say likewise, if you haven’t used that rifle’’, your dad gathered some peace of mind after the accident, his eyes warmed up towards the hunter. ‘’What the hell are you doing here?’’
‘’Checkin’ trails, was followin’ a buck’’, he drawled gruffly, his eyes never left you. ‘’Maybe he has rabies. Rifle went off, old shit keeps gettin’ stuck. Where are you two heading?’’
‘’Just…riding’’, you said, feeling like a prey under his eyes. ‘’I’m on vacation here, visiting’’.
He smiled, like he won a lottery. A crooked, wary smile. A valuable piece of information, courtesy of you.
‘’Ain’t that sweet’’, he murmured. ‘’Family reunion. Can I crush your party and join?’’
‘’Sure, Shane’’, your dad tensed visibly, his eyes not leaving the ranger's frame for a second. Then he looked at you, ‘’that’s a friend I told you about.’’
‘’Oh!’’, you chirped, memories coming back after being startled. ‘’An ex-army! Hi.’’
‘’Hi’’, Shane’s smile was downright disgusting, but maybe that’s how he is. Dad said some rangers go nuts in the woods, maybe he’s just…Not used to contact with people a lot. If only you knew more.
‘’I was showing her the lake’’, your dad said after giving up. Now, after Shane was dead locked on his new target, no way he would just stride into the woods.
‘’That lake is no fun for a city girl’’, Shane hummed, tilting his head. ‘’I know better places.’’
’’Of course you do’’, your father sighed, rubbing the back of his head. ‘’He knows everything about these places. Every route, every trail, every tree’’
‘’That’s nice’’, you offered a polite smile. ‘’Will you be our guide?’’
‘’Happy to oblige’’, Shane smirked. ‘’Can even show how to use that bad boy, if you ask nicely’’.
He caressed his rifle lovingly. Even that gesture made your stomach drop to your ass, but you dismissed that.
‘’Sure’’.
‘’She just met you, be a gentleman’’, your dad hissed, hauling his horse towards Shane’s direction.
‘’I’m always a gentleman’’, the ranger said, winking at you. ‘’Just wait and see how gentleman’y I can be, if the circumstances are right’’.
‘’Don’t’’, your dad said with warning, they exchanged glances. You had no idea what the silent agreement was about, like you missed a juicy piece of their shared story. Probably that was true. But Shane jerked his shoulders, averting his gaze from you. ‘’Come on, I need to show you a place before nightfall. Woods aren’t pleasant if you wander past midnight.’’
You breathed out after he turned your back to you, riding his mare. You were equally mortified and intrigued by Shane. Like a mystery wrapped in a man’s clothes. Something primal was lurking underneath his eyes. Your dad knew more than you, that’s for sure.
But after that? Things went smoothly. Shane was occasionally talking about these places, naming the trails and where they are leading to. He wasn’t looking at you, focused on the road like a perfect tour guide.
He was even cracking jokes, and you completely waved the first introduction senses to the fear. Yes, his rifle probably went off, it happens. With a closed look, Shane was pretty calm. Not the soul of the friend company, but collected, polite. Your dad visibly relaxed too, laughing at something Shane said.
‘’Why aren’t you a tour guide for real?’’ you giggled, looking at his back. Shane mildly turned around, giving you a warm smile.
‘’They don’t pay me enough to drag poor bastards out of the bear's claws. Besides, I like it that way.’’
‘’Living in the woods?’’ you teased him, not noticing how a tone darker his eyes went.
‘’Yeah’’, he drawled, voice as smooth as a cheetah's purrs. ‘’Real comfy. I shoulda show you how it works, when you camp in the middle of nowhere’’.
You laughed, soft and clear as the mountain’s stream.
‘’No, thanks for the offer tho. I don’t think I can survive without a shower.’’
Your dad snickered too, he was too familiar with patrols in the heat of the summer or dead in the winter, when you’re knee deep in the snow.
‘’It's nature, sweetheart’’, Shane said, a glimmer in his eyes betraying his fun. ‘’Not a 5 star hotel’’.
Weirdly, his lazy tone and sweet names started to get to you, making you look at him longer, and as a hunter, he knew when he was being watched. Though, he paid no attention to it, stopped giving you lazy grins and winks altogether, knowing your dad was watching his six too.
‘’What made you join your old man, instead of…I don’t even know’’, he asked with interest. ‘’What do you kids do? Pool parties, bars? Ah, right, clubs’’.
‘’I don’t go there’’, you replied with a huff and eye roll, which Shane definitely approved. ‘’And not a kid.’’
He eye-sided you, voice dropping just an octave so your dad would miss that. ‘’My bad. You’re definitely not a kid’’.
You look at his face, his crow’s feet, going like sun beams from his eyes, but the smug grin hasn’t changed. He knows you’re looking and he knows you like what you’re seeing. He wasn’t born yesterday for sure, even more? He seemed to be enabling you, holding your occasional gazes.
‘’So what is it then?’’ he murmured. ‘’Reconnecting with your pops? Nature?’’
‘’Both’’, you laughed softly, shaking your head. ‘’I guess I got tired from summer’s heat. Instead of being locked in a condo all summer, I thought I could see what this place is about’’.
‘’Enjoy your stay’’, Shane licked his lips. ‘’This place gets better the longer you look at it’’.
Despite his lazy tone, you felt shivers down your spine, like a bucket of cold water was splashed on your neck.
‘’These city kids don’t even want to go here anymore’’, your dad complained loudly. ‘’Not fun for them to stare at the forest and the mountains’’.
‘’Maybe that’s for the best’’, Shane chuckled roughly. ‘’I am not haulin’ another kid’s ipad from the river. City kids tend to wander off…’’
He looked at you, as if trying to ask ‘’you too, huh?’’.
‘’I think you’re just two old mean bastards’’, you giggled, caressing your horse’s neck.
‘’I’m not old’’, Shane said immediately, defensive.
‘’And I’m not mean’’, your dad said with a loud barking laugh. ‘’You’re cruel to us, dear’’.
‘’So very cruel’’, Shane confirmed, his gaze traveled down your legs when you three matched in line on a broader part of the trail. ‘’So mean’’.
‘’Hey, now that's manipulation’’, you snickered softly. ‘’I’m not, you’re complaining about city’s kids as if you both would happily to be their tour guides.’’
Shane slightly leaned to your side.
‘’Don’t worry, consider me booked, sweetheart’’.
You felt the same shiver down your neck from the side where he leaned a bit closer, knowing he’s looking at you shamelessly. Like a hungry wolf, noticing a weakening spot in your armor.
‘’Anyway, I’m too fed up with their antics’’, he continued like nothing happened, riding forward. ‘’I’m not a fucking entertainer. And they all want to be entertained. Taken care of.’’
You had a weird feeling like he was talking about you, without making it obvious.
‘’You’re just a snob and an ass’’, your dad remarked with a smile. ‘’That’s why they never ask you to be a tour guide’’.
‘’Thank fuck’’, Shane spat, something changed about his demeanor, but easily dissolved, like a fish in the dark waters. ‘’I’m good at being a deer hunter, it makes it fun’’.
‘’You enjoy your job?’’ you asked with interest.
‘’Yeah, babygirl’’, he said teasingly, savoring each word. ‘’Nothin’ is just as close to fun as that’’.
‘’Shane’’, your father said calmly, but pointedly so. Shane shrugged, like a dog on a leash, forcing his lips from a grin to a small smile. He didn’t mind being bossed around, you noticed. Maybe he respected your old man, maybe some unspoken male solidarity bullshit, but he immediately dropped his act.
‘’We’re close to the river, now be careful. Not just humans wander here, animals come hunting too. And you don’t want to meet a bear when he’s fishing’’.
Shane easily knew every path, every detour. You just followed him and now you were standing at the river bank, looking at the glass-sharp water which traveled down with roaring speed. Shane smirked.
‘’Wanna go for a swim?”
You looked absolutely terrified, ‘’no, I think not’’.
‘’Smart girl’’, he drawled, his voice barely audible from the noises of water splashing over the rocks. Heat had no reign here; cold, clear water brought breeze and moisture to your dry skin. You paused and took a whiff, feeling relief.
‘’My ass needs a break’’, you grumbled, jumping from your saddle with grunts and whines, trying to stretch your lower back. ‘’Oh—‘’
‘’Horses can do that to you’’, your father laughed, a low, funny noise. ‘’You should practice more’’.
Shane jumped off his horse more gracefully, which came with practice over the years of being a ranger. Mostly he preferred his ATV, but sometimes? Yeah, horses.
‘’Ridin’ is never a bad idea’’, he said, almost as if not implying. You couldn’t get used to this cocky asshole flirting with you openly all the way to the river, but his words haven’t made you annoyed. No, not at all. To your surprise. ‘’It’s all about the balance and how you hold yourself’’.
Your dad went closer to the river to see if he could notice fish.
‘’I can teach you’’, Shane murmured, stretching his arms near you. On foot he was so much taller than you originally imagined, looming over you like a dark shadow. He didn’t have a smell of wood or something earthy, no, he reeked of sweat and that didn’t make you take a step away. He bared his teeth in a smile. ‘’Or you’re scared of big bad men?’’
‘’No,’’ you retorted. ‘’Just dislike men who think they can get whatever they want’’.
Shane took that as a challenge, clearly, because his grin was getting only wider, a bit crooked. He looked at you like a wolf staring at a lamb, an animal of a different kind. But a dog is still a dog.
‘’Relax, I’m just messin’ with you’’, he nudged your side lightly with his sharp elbow, laughing. ‘’Don’t wanna upset your pops, sugar’’.
‘’I’m not his property for you to worry about him more than you need to worry about what I want’’, you grumbled. Men usually took that as bait, getting angry and defensive. But Shane? He laughed under his breath, more of a huff.
‘’Smart girl’’, he managed. ‘’So what? Wanna ride like a pro, or get your ass beaten red by saddle?’’
You rolled your eyes. A hint as old as time, offering his help to get you alone. Two could play this game, and you considered yourself a decent player.
‘’Prolly said to you more words than to anyone in the past month’’, Shane said, his smile vanishing, frown appearing. He seemed older when he frowned, when his face wasn’t brightened by a crooked cocky grin.
‘’I’ll take that as a compliment’’, you replied calmly, watching him fix his saddle and straps on his old pants.
‘’You should’’, he nodded seriously.
He was still very much of an asshole. You still very much wanted to knock him down a peg for funsies, but he was aware of your every move before you did it. It was fun and at the same time it made your skin crawl.
‘’How do I know that bullet wasn’t intentional?’’ you asked, pretending to look at the river where your dad was crouching.
‘’You don’t’’, Shane was suddenly behind you, voice low. ‘’But if it was? You wouldn’t be standin’ here. I don’t miss’’.
You swallowed. Shane moved past you to the river, that heavy, languid walk.
However, you three couldn’t stay there long. The day was slowly, but surely leaning towards the sunset, when all the light got eaten by Half Dome. Your horse was tired and moody, tapping its leg like an upset toddler. Shane took the reins, looking into its eyes.
‘’Come on, baby, don’t be mad’’, he was far more gentle with animals when they served some purpose. Then he turned to you. ‘’Guessin’ you won’t be riding that one, unless you want to kiss a grovel’’.
‘’Great’’, you sighed. Walking all the way to the village? Sounded like a nightmare fuel. Shane jumped easily on his saddle, his muscular body moving, like a cheetah. He padded on his saddle, giving you a full-on grin. ‘’Come on, girl’’.
‘’Hell no’’, your dad intervened, but more than riding back with Shane you hated the idea that he held you accountable for what you boldly said with your loose tongue. That you’re not daddy’s property. Shane expectantly cocked an eyebrow, as if saying ‘’so?’’.
You sighed louder, furious to be caught on your own words, like a liar, and took his rough hand to jump on his horse. Shane immediately wrapped one hand over your hip, steading you.
‘’Sorry, pops’’, Shane drawled shamelessly. ‘’I promised that one a lesson in ridin’. You barely hold your own horse, besides, someone has to drag that one’’. He gave an explicit look at your own moody horse, which offendedly glared at you, like a traitor.
You huffed, finding your dad’s firm look, like he was ready to fight Shane if you were uncomfortable, but you waved. ‘’It’s fine. Better than on foot’’.
‘’Good girl’’, Shane whispered behind you, sending shivers down your spine. His hand reluctantly moved from your hip, leaving a warmed up spot cold in the wind. ‘’Take the reins’’.
You swore under your breath, taking leading strings. The horse made a dissatisfied noise, noticing that it wasn’t its owner.
‘’Goo-o-od horse’’, you murmured, making her turn around to the woods.
‘’Easy, girl’’, Shane’s warm breath hit your right ear. ‘’You’re pullin’ too much, she ain’t a hothead. Lightly, there. That’s it’’.
You were feeling like you were in hell already and that was your punishment. Each word from his mouth — pure venom. Looking decent for your oblivious dad, but it was so much not about teaching you how to ride properly.
‘’You’re too tense’’, he huffed, his massive arm wrapped around your torso, like wire. ‘’Relax your arse. You’re overworkin’ your pelvic floor, gonna be sore’’.
You forced a smile at your dad, who was hauling your horse in front of you, looking over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay.
‘’That’s it’’, he rumbled over your ear. You could feel him and smell him, a wall of tense muscles behind your back. Each step of a horse resulted in his thighs grinding into you. Oh, he was having a blast today. ‘’Stay relaxed for me. Good job’’.
You were convinced that he’s doing it all on purpose to get a rise from you, so you stayed quiet. Which was hard, because he breathed, chucked, and moved behind you. You were wondering if your pants could hold the amount of slick you were producing because of what he was doing. Hell, maybe he was aware. Maybe he wanted it that way, to hold your mind captive.
‘’Horse is listening to you, always,’’ Shane murmured, bucking his hips forward just for fun, not able to see how hard you bit your lip. ‘’See? That one is a good one. She loves to ride.’’
You couldn’t even tell him to shut the fuck up, because your dad would immediately come to your rescue. But just this time, perhaps you didn’t want to be saved. Shane has found a perfect loophole to tease you mercilessly. You leaned back for leverage (yeaaah), feeling his firm torso, holding you. He smiled.
‘’Tired, babygirl?’’ he drawled, clicking his tongue.
‘’Zip it’’, you managed to say quietly through gritted teeth, so your dad wouldn’t hear.
‘’Nah’’, he muttered, his breath even hotter in the dying of the daylight. ‘’I think you like the way I am’’.
You ignored that sentence completely, because all you needed is to smack him so hard, he would go flying from the saddle.
‘’Your pops is a guardin’ one’’, he continued quietly. ‘’Watchin’ over you like a hawk. He would shoot without thinkin’ twice.’’
‘’Him not the only one.’’
‘’I’m wounded’’, he huffed into your hair. ‘’I thought you’re enjoyin’ this ride’’.
You couldn’t just tell him how much. Your panties were completely drenched, making the saddle uncomfortable even more so due to wetness. You shivered with your whole body, he smiled.
‘’Cold?’’
You lied, ‘’a bit’’.
Shane sighed, removing his hands from the saddle and reins completely, fumbling behind. You felt him move with your back and your ass, growing more and more annoyed. You were tired, exhausted, hungry and completely soaked, so yeah. ‘’What are you doing back there?’’
Instead of response, a heavy weight dropped on your shoulders. His ranger jacket, smelling like dirt and sweat.
‘’The weather can be decievin’’’, he said. ‘’One hour it’s boiling hot, but in the evening? On sweat and tense back from ridin’, you won’t be able to move tomorrow.’’
You paused, thinking.
‘’Thank you’’.
He chuckled behind you, ‘’always, sweetheart’’.
Though, his politeness hasn’t lasted much longer. His hand sneaked below the jacket, finding its way to your belly.
‘’Shane’’, you hissed quietly, catching a moment when your dad got distracted by the wiggling trail.
‘’What?’’ he breathed, pressing closer. ‘’So mean, jeez.’’
His fingers sneaked underneath your shirt, making you inhale sharply.
‘’Not a peep’’, he said lazily, cocky. ‘’Or you’re walkin’ home’’.
You bit back all the curses you had in mind for him. Now you could get a clear picture why your dad was so against you two meeting each other. Shane was a fucking disgusting human being, more of a freaked out, pent-up ex military with zero manners and grace. He didn’t care when, didn’t care how, but he loved the thrill of this.
‘’Fuck’’, he huffed, getting off on your restrained unpleased sounds, his fingers brushing over the hem of your cargo pants. To his non-existent honor, he wasn’t trying to unzip them yet, nor crook his fingers inside the line. ‘’Yer skin is soft as a fucking peach, baby’’.
You rolled your eyes, managing to lead the horse.
Shane laughed, low and pleased.
‘’What? Don’t like my compliments?’’
‘’I’m not a fucking fruit’’, you grumbled, getting more annoyed. Yet, you haven’t pushed his hand off.
‘’And I bet you are. You know why?’’ he whispered right into your ear. ‘’I think you taste fucking sweet like honey when you cum’’.
You gasped, forgetting where you are and with who.
Your dad turned around. ‘’You two are okay?’’
You hissed and cursed quietly, giving him a reassuring smile. ‘’Yeah, just hit a rock’’.
Shane laughed loudly, his chest was shaking with the force of it.
‘’Hang on, we’re near the village, dear’’, your dad gave you an apologetic look, as if saying sorry for the horse and his fucking friend at the same time. You were wondering what your dad even found in Shane, that he put him so highly in the rank of people he liked in the Yosemite staff crew.
‘’Too bad’’, Shane groaned into your ear tiredly, yet satisfied. ‘’Guess we had enough adventures for today, huh?’’
When you got inside the territory, he helped you get off the horse with a practiced ease, his steady hand holding yours with warmth and strength. He looked at you from up down, nodding.
‘’Been a pleasure get to know such a nice young lady.’’ Shane nodded to your dad too, striding off. First his horse walked, then he hurried her and disappeared back into the woods.
Your dad looked at you apologetically again, holding the reins from both horses. ‘’He’s not a good guy, dear. I didn’t want this day to be like that’’.
You snorted, trying not to pour your frustration to your poor old pa.
‘’Yeah, he’s a rare prick. But knows his way around. I need a shower’’.
‘’You go inside’’, your dad placed his hand gently on your shoulder, patting. Then he looked over at you. ‘’He gave you his jacket?’’
You looked at your shoulders, biting back a heavy swear word. ‘’Yeah, I got cold’’.
Your eyes followed the woods, where Shane had vanished.
‘’Guess I need to return it’’.
________
so that’s part one! reblog and comment if you need to be tagged for part two ❤️
i don’t give my permission to use this work in any way outside of this site, don’t copy it, or feed it to ai.
Summary: You come to Bluebell for a job Lavon offered you, and yet, the Founder's Day parade turning into absolute chaos was never part of the plan.
Warnings: Nothing 18+! This is based on the show Hart of Dixie, so it's very sweet and Southern-style. Lots of tenderness between Wade and the reader. Movie references. Maybe a little bit of cringe! (I hope not). Slow burn, strangers to lovers? This episode is based on 1x02 of the show.
Words: 8.7k
Author's note: Hiii! I've been watching Hart of Dixie, and I got the urge to write a Wade Kinsella story, literally. So here we are, LOL. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I already have quite a few ideas in mind. For now I'll tag Dex (Benjamin Poindexter) in the tags, because I've seen people post Shane fanfics too, but I don't know if that would be annoying 😭. Either way, it's mostly because the Hart of Dixie community is very dead — if the tag bothers anyone, let me know, mwah (´ε｀ )
You still couldn't believe you were headed to Alabama; the "Welcome to Bluebell" sign was already coming into view, little by little. It was hard to believe it had all started just two weeks ago.
Your phone had rung in your city studio, and on the other end of the line, someone with a deep, enthusiastic voice was speaking. "Hello! How are you? I'm Lavon Hayes. I played in the NFL with your uncle. He told me... if there's anyone who can save the pride of a small town in Alabama, it's you." He explained, between laughs, that Bluebell was in the middle of a diplomatic and artistic war with the neighboring town of Fillmore.
At first you hesitated, because it was far from your city, and you didn't know if the town would be to your liking. But Lavon wasn't going to give up that easily (of course), and he encouraged you to come, even offering you a deal. He'd pay for a comfortable cabin and your materials, whatever you needed, as long as you showed up at the town events for the decorations and art.
After a brief negotiation between the two of you, you finally accepted with pleasure. After all, maybe leaving the city would give you a breath of fresh air, and maybe it wasn't so bad to step out of your comfort zone.
So here you are, driving through Bluebell, taking in the sweltering atmosphere and the nature all around. It was incredible, and really beautiful, truth be told.
Lavon had sent you an address, where his mansion was. As you parked, you took a good look before getting out. It was a completely white house, big... maybe with lots of rooms, but the first thing you'd noticed was the exaggerated heat everywhere, which made you take off your jacket, leaving you in a black tank top, which honestly didn't improve the situation, because the heat was still just as bad.
You were fanning yourself with your hand as you walked up to the door, but Lavon opened it before you even knocked, as if he'd been watching you from the window.
"Welcome!" he said, coming down the steps two at a time. "I was starting to think the folks from Fillmore had kidnapped you." He added, laughing. "Here, let me help you with that."
"Oh, are you sure? It's too heav—..."
You watched as he lifted almost all your material and luggage effortlessly, with a smile. Your jaw dropped before you closed your mouth. "Oh—oh, okay, sure." You said, nervously.
You grabbed a loose suitcase and started walking at his pace.
"Well, welcome to Bluebell, the jewel of Alabama. I know the trip's been long and exhausting... but I need to give you at least a tourist guide so you don't get lost," he said as you kept walking. "I don't want you wandering around alone and ending up in a lake with alligators."
"There are alligators?" you asked, in disbelief.
"Believe me, if you get into a lake, you'll find alligators. I love 'em." He confessed, enthusiastically. "In fact, I've got one as a pet. He's a cutie..."
You nodded, not knowing what to say. Having an alligator as a pet wasn't the best idea to you, especially if Lavon treated it like a defenseless little puppy.
"This is the plantation, my house, as you've seen," he added with pride. "If you go past those oak trees, you'll find the barn, which will be your studio. Don't worry, no animals will bother you. And then..." He pointed or tried to point to another spot. "That little cabin over there, that's your new home for the next few months."
You took a look from a distance. It was plain, rustic, wood on the outside. You liked that it was somewhat big, and yet, what scared you a little was the lake right next to it. And just as Lavon had said about the alligators, now you imagined them attacking and devouring you at night. A wonderful start.
(Oh gosh... the cabin is so pretty! It's like living in "Secret Window"... though if I'm going to go crazy from isolation, I at least hope my neighbor looks like Johnny Depp, I wish.)
Lavon had no idea of the state you were in; he simply kept talking enthusiastically. "The cabin's on natural land, very peaceful. And you won't be alone, of course. Next door you've got another cabin, Wade's, Wade Kinsella. He's, uh..." He tried to find a word that wouldn't sound too rude. "He's a good guy," he said simply, before adding, "Although it's hard to get him to work sometimes. One thing, if you hear music or people shouting from his cabin, tell him the Mayor has requested absolute silence. Seriously, it works 90% of the time!"
You pressed your lips together, filing that information in your head. "So, is he a musician or something?" you asked curiously.
"Musician?" He looks at you and shakes his head. "Not exactly... Let's just say he plays more with... moods." He laughs. That made you frown, not quite understanding. And he adds, "Well, he's got an old guitar that barely stays in tune, if that counts. But the noise is usually of a different nature, you know?"
You nod. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Nature." You said, with confidence and a smile.
(I understood nothing.)
Lavon held your gaze for a moment, with a half-amused smile, as if he knew perfectly well you were faking it. But instead of explaining, he just gave you a couple of pats on the shoulder and added, "You'll figure it out, don't worry. Come on, I'll show you the cabin."
Lavon kept walking, now pointing to a cabin just a few yards beyond yours, a little more... "fixed up," though it still kept that Southern touch. "And here," Lavon stopped, gesturing broadly, "we have your other neighbor. Dr. Zoe Hart. She just arrived from New York a little while ago. She's very smart, very urban, and if you have any medical problems, she's the one to see, believe me."
You nod again, watching him as you think. (Oh... she's new too. I'll go see her later; I'm sure she's feeling pretty lonely.)
"I'm sure she's lovely," you manage to say, smiling at him. "I'll go see her later."
You walked a couple of minutes, until you climbed the steps to your new home. He handed you the key, letting you be the first to open the door.
"If Wade crosses the line, just mention my name and tell him the Mayor's looking for volunteers to clean the barn. You'll see how fast he shuts up," he comments, watching you open the door. You let in a gust of cool air that, at least for a moment, relieved you from the stifling heat.
"You've got a fully equipped kitchen, with the basics. A bed, bathroom, living room... You'll be comfortable, I assure you," he said with confidence. He let out a soft sigh as he let you explore on your own, leaving your things in the living room while you wandered through the cabin at your own pace.
"Seriously, thanks for coming. Take today to settle in. And if you want, tomorrow I'll take you to the Rammer Jammer for breakfast so you can meet the rest of the locals. How does that sound?"
You opened your mouth, turning around slowly, with a smile. "Are there pancakes?" you ask, with enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah, there sure are." He smiles at your enthusiasm.
You smile back, and before he leaves, you remember something you'd prepared in a bag. "Wait!" you say, rummaging through your things until you find a decorated little box. You hold it up and open it carefully: cookies. You'd made them for yourself, and if the occasion arose, for others. It's a good time to introduce yourself kindly to the neighbors!
"Here, I made them. I hope you don't have any allergies; they're almond butter." You hold out the box with a charming smile.
Lavon stares at the box for a few seconds before smiling and grabbing an exaggerated handful. "Thank you so much! They look really good." And he tries one; indeed, they were delicious, since you hear him moan with satisfaction, closing his eyes. "I wasn't wrong," he adds, mouth full.
You smile back. "I'm glad you like them!"
He waves goodbye, going down the steps of your cabin as he finishes enjoying the cookie. You, on the other hand, were left alone.
You got to work unpacking your things. First, you added several cushions on a whim; you wanted to give the cabin a touch of yourself. Then, the rest was clothes and a few accessories, like little flower pots, a childhood photo of yourself, and your paints.
At one point, you looked out the window. In front of you was the lake, and everything else was a thick, slightly flowery garden. To your left was Zoe's cabin, just as Lavon had said. That's when you remembered you were going to visit her, and since the cookies weren't finished, what better than to offer her some too?
You took a deep breath, straightening your shirt before stepping outside, walking and feeling the earth beneath your sneakers. You carefully climbed her steps, trying not to stain the wood, and knocked on the door softly.
Zoe didn't take long to open it, looking you over.
"Yes?" she asked, arching an eyebrow and looking you up and down.
You felt small for a moment, but it quickly passed because of the scent of butter. You held the box out a little, showing a kind smile, introducing yourself by name for a few seconds.
"I thought I'd stop by! Lavon told me you'd also arrived a few days ago, so... since we're both new, I thought I'd introduce myself. I brought cookies." You say, showing them. "They're butter and almond."
There's a pause between the two of you. Zoe slowly narrows her eyes, with some distrust. "Is this a trap?" She asks directly.
"Excuse me?"
"Do they have poison or laxatives?" She adds another dramatic question.
"Uhhhh... no? No, they don't." You answer, with a nervous laugh.
"What do you want in return?" She asks again.
"Well... nothing, really. I just wanted to share my cookies with you, because, well, you're new. And I am too." You point to yourself. "Besides, they're really good, seriously." You hold up a cookie. "Come on, open your mouth."
"No way!"
You started moving the cookie like an airplane toward her. Zoe quickly swatted at you. "No, you're not going to poison me!" she said, pressing her lips together.
"I told you they're not poisonous!" you insist.
"That's exactly what a poisoner would say!" She keeps swatting at you.
You wrestled for another second, you trying to bring the cookie closer, her turning her face away as if it were a syringe. Until Zoe suddenly stopped. She looked at you. Looked at the cookie. Looked at you again, and let out a slight sigh, stepping back.
"Fine, fine. I'll try it, but just so you know... this will be the definitive test of my death."
"It's... just a cookie, nothing more. Besides, I'm not a murderer! I never would be," you defend yourself.
"Tell that to the judge."
You opened your mouth, offended and frowning. But you didn't say anything, because Zoe grabbed the cookie, examining it for a couple of seconds before taking a bite. She groaned, frowning a little, and then took another bite, relaxing.
"Oh, God..." she murmurs, in a sigh of satisfaction. You blinked twice, watching her. "Okay, it's good... really good... Would you hate me if I asked for another one?" she asks.
"Not at all." You smile, and grab another cookie to hold out to her.
She stepped aside, looking at you. "Come in," she said with a sigh, snatching the cookie. "Come in before the humidity in this place melts my hair completely..."
When you crossed the threshold, you realized you weren't the only one dealing with moving, although Zoe's method was much more... chaotic. There were half-open cardboard boxes everywhere, designer stilettos mixed with internal medicine books, and a couple of haute couture dresses hanging from the rustic wooden beams. A ceiling fan spun at full speed, making a rhythmic noise that barely moved the thick, hot air.
"Sorry for the mess," Zoe commented, hopping over a box to reach the kitchen counter. "I'm still trying to understand how people survive here... By the way, I'm Zoe. Zoe Hart." She gives you a little smile from the kitchen.
You introduce yourself again, smiling back. You leave the little box on the table, looking curiously at the medical brochures. "A pleasure. And yeah... the heat is hellish, I can't stand it. Lavon told me I'd get used to it, but I think he just didn't want me to run off north."
Zoe let out a dry laugh as she organized her things.
"Run off north?" She shook her head, pouring herself a glass of water. "Believe me, I was about to do it the first day." She takes a sip. "But, looking on the bright side... now I'm not the only one."
You settled into a chair, watching her. "So what exactly brought you out here?" she asks.
"Oh, to the town, you mean?" you answered. "Well, it's a pretty funny story, actually. It turns out Lavon is an old friend of my uncle's; they played together in the NFL years ago. Apparently they kept in touch, and when Lavon panicked because he urgently needed an artist to save the design of the Founder's Day parade float... well, my uncle recommended me."
You made a small pause.
"Lavon painted the situation as if it were a state emergency," you continued, moving your hands with playful drama. "So... ta-da! Here I am!"
Zoe was silent for a while, processing the information in her head. "The Founder's Day parade? I see." She nods, then sighs, resting her elbows on the table, placing her hands on her cheeks as she let out a sigh. "I wish I could be there... These last few days everyone's done nothing but make fun of me for confusing a tick bite with a disease..." she huffs.
"Didn't Lavon ask you to get on board or something?" you ask curiously.
"Of course he did. But... I turned him down." She hisses, squeezing her eyes shut, as well as her mouth, as if she regretted it. "I told him, well, that I didn't like festivals... But now, I need to go. I need people to see me, so they don't think I'm some... extravagant New Yorker. I want to be part of the community," she says, with some sweetness. Until she adds, "And that way I get clients for my clinic, of course."
You nod slowly. "Well... then... you can come with me if you want when I'm preparing things. I'm sure Lavon will love for you to participate; besides, he was the one who gave you the opportunity." You smile.
Just as you were about to add something else, a sound comes from outside, like a hammer blow. You frown, looking toward the window from where you were. Zoe, on the other hand, closed her eyes for a moment, her patience at its limit, lowering her head as her bangs slid across the table.
"Here we go..." she murmurs. She looks up, beginning to walk toward the window, taking a look.
You joined her at the window, pulling the curtain aside a little with your fingers. At first you saw nothing, just the orange light of sunset filtering through the trees and the reflection of the lake in the distance.
And then you saw him.
He was next to the cabin next door, leaning over what seemed to be his car. He had a broad back, his shoulders marked under a white T-shirt sticking to his body from sweat. The hammer went up and down with a precise rhythm, and the dry sound of the blow reached you muffled by the glass.
"There he is," Zoe crosses her arms.
"That's Wade?" you manage to ask.
And she nods, without taking her eyes off him. You didn't answer anything else, because just at that moment, he straightened up, wiped his forearm across his forehead to dry the sweat, and then, with a single fluid movement, pulled the shirt off over his head.
Time stopped for you.
You know those iconic American movies, where there's always a slow-motion scene? Well, that's exactly what your mind was projecting.
(Oh my God.)
He was golden from the sun, with the muscles of his back and arms defined not by the gym, just from hard work, literally. He wiped the back of his neck with his shirt, and then let it drop onto the porch without any care.
Your face was getting closer and closer to the glass. You couldn't help it. It was like a magnet. Like a National Geographic documentary about Southern fauna in its natural habitat.
(A little closer. Just a little more. He won't notice. He's not looking at me. God, those arms...)
Zoe watched you for a few seconds, frowning at your reaction, and laughed a little. "Yeah... the same thing happened to me the first week. You'll get over it. I think..."
You weren't paying attention to her words, honestly; you were just watching him closer, until...
BANG!
"Ouch!" You managed to say, putting your hand on your forehead, stepping back in embarrassment. What if the noise had now caught his attention?
You crouched down by instinct, hand on the floor, rubbing your forehead. "Did he see me, did he see me...?"
"I don't know, shut up a moment," Zoe murmurs, looking out the window.
From outside, Wade's voice was heard, with a sarcastic tone, as he approached the steps.
"Doctor! Was that your head against the glass? Because if so, you'd better go to the hospital, in case you fractured your skull."
"I didn't fall! My head is perfectly fine, thanks."
Wade paused, smiling sideways.
"So, are you spying on me? Because if you wanted to see me without a shirt, you just had to ask."
"That's disgusting... And besides, it's not necessary. Trust me, I've already seen all of you, and it wasn't that impressive."
What?
Wade let out a short laugh, leaning against the railing. "That's not what you said in the car, doctor."
WHAT?
Your head turned toward Zoe —well, toward her ankles, which was what you could see from the floor— with your mouth open. Zoe and Wade? Something had happened between them? Oh, she had so much to tell you.
"That... that was a drunken mistake," Zoe replied, crossing her arms. "I was desperate in my first days."
"Sure, desperation." He laughs under his breath. "That's why you called me three times afterward."
Zoe opened her mouth, but for the first time since you'd met her, no immediate comeback came out. You brought your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh. The situation was too funny.
Taking advantage of the silence, Wade took another step toward the window. His voice sounded closer, clearer, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding.
"By the way, tell your friend she can get up. She's going to break her back."
Zoe turned to you immediately, without being discreet. You looked at her from below, and shook your head with a silent "no."
"I don't see anyone here," she replied, looking at him. "I'm alone. Can't you tell?"
He shakes his head, with that smile as he laughed. "Sure, sure... Tell her there's no need to hide. I'll introduce myself later, properly."
"Get lost," Zoe adds.
Wade raises his hands in surrender, delighted, and goes down the steps, going back to his business.
Zoe turns to you again. "You can get up now." You do so immediately, although you clumsily bump into a small table. You gently rub your head as you hear a sigh from her. "Do you want coffee? I'll explain this whole... matter."
You nod, heading with her to the kitchen. "Well, it all started on my first day, literally. It went horribly because no one in town took me seriously at the clinic. Besides, they thought I looked weird, which is absurd." She pauses, pouring coffee for both herself and you. "In the end... I got drunk and was in the street at nightfall, walking aimlessly. And he appeared... in a car, and what happened happened."
You drank slowly, watching her.
"Well, nothing really happened... No... we got to that point because..." she murmurs something you can't quite hear.
"What did you say?"
She murmurs something again.
"I can't understand you."
"I honked the horn with my butt," she repeats, embarrassed.
There's a brief silence between the two of you before you suppress a laugh, then start laughing out loud. You lower your head, covering your mouth with one hand, trying to stop the laughter, but it was impossible.
"I-I'm sorry, sorry!" you say, between laughs.
She rolls her eyes, not finding it very funny. "And besides... I was drunk! I regretted it immediately and left. Then, well, there were moments when I called him and stuff, but it never went anywhere because I'd regret it at the last moment..."
You nod, clearing your throat as you occasionally let out a few light laughs.
"But I don't like him. He's... irresponsible. Besides, he's slept with most of the girls, and he's very... lazy. He's awful. I'm sure, knowing now that you're new, he'll come after you."
"Oh... I see." You wave your hand. "But I wouldn't want to get into relationships now, or well, whatever that is. Right now, the important thing I have to do is 'work' for the Mayor and prepare for the float. I don't want distractions in my path. If he flirts with me, I'll ignore him."
"Well said." She raises her cup before drinking. "I wouldn't recommend getting involved, honestly, it's not worth it... Though I don't want to meddle in your life, of course. You're free to decide," she adds, to avoid misunderstandings.
You take another sip. "Yeah, don't worry. I won't do anything weird."
You continued talking calmly, until finally, at dusk, you decided to go home, saying goodbye to Zoe with a smile.
You went to the cabin, where you stayed until nightfall. You'd already settled everything, had dinner, put on your pajamas (shorts and a tank top), and brushed your teeth. You were about to go to bed, but something was bothering you.
It turned out that next door there was an incredibly loud noise you could hear from your window, like a guitar, plus music.
At first you tried to sleep, covering yourself under the blankets to not hear so much, but it was impossible. You stayed like that for several minutes, until you couldn't take it anymore.
You went down the steps carefully, barefoot, feeling the earth under your feet. And you followed the noise until you came to a cabin beside yours. Indeed, it was Wade's house. The closer you got, the more music you heard, and a couple of laughs, but you couldn't see anything. You knocked on the door, a little hard so it would be heard.
You waited several seconds, and nothing, so you knocked again, harder, waiting.
The door finally opens, revealing Wade behind it. He had a guitar hanging from him, looking at you. "Oh, look who it is." He smiles, looking you up and down again, without hiding it. "Nice pajamas."
"Thanks, uh..." You smile, frowning at that compliment. "Well, I came here because I need you to... turn down the volume in your house. I can't sleep."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He raises his hands. "You don't introduce yourself after just arriving, and you're already giving me orders?"
"Well... that's true, sorry." You half-laugh. And you hold out your hand, about to introduce yourself. "I'm..."
"Don't tell me, you're the neighbor who was spying on me earlier." He smiles, not accepting your handshake.
You opened your mouth, and all you could manage was a nervous laugh. "Oh—well—uhm... No, I think you're mistaken. I wasn't spying on you, I don't know what you're talking about." You say, lowering your hand.
"Oh, no?" He puts his hand to his chest, feigning disappointment. "What a shame... And I thought my neighbor found me interesting..."
"Well, interesting..." You murmur, not finishing the sentence.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing." You shook your head. "Look, I just came here for you to turn down the volume, that's all. Could you do it, please?"
"Uh... no?" He says, frowning.
"No?" You repeat incredulously. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Not even a... I don't know, 'sorry, I'll turn it down now'?"
He smiles, as if he didn't care. "The thing is, I'm not sorry, really. It's Friday, and I'm here with my friends having fun."
(This man is impossible.)
You shake your head, unable to believe it. "Alright, good night. Sorry for bothering you." And you turn around, walking back toward your cabin.
"Hey."
You turned. Wade had stepped away from the doorframe, looking at you with a different expression, less mocking this time.
"I'll turn it down. I was joking," he adds.
"Really?" you ask, with bright eyes.
And he starts laughing. "No! Of course not," he says between laughs. "Alright, good night." And he goes into his house, closing the door.
Your jaw dropped at the sudden change. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable, that was all you could say in your head. You went back home, exhausted, and as you kept walking, you noticed there was less noise. Had he turned it down after all? you wondered. I mean, you could still hear the music, but it wasn't as loud as before, which was appreciated.
It seemed he had finally given in to your request.
You lay down gently in bed, able to sleep more comfortably now.
"I'm telling you, I saw a frog this morning!" you said, walking alongside Lavon through the streets. "I have to say it was really cute, but it almost jumped on my head," you add.
The morning had already passed; you'd woken up and the first thing you saw was a frog on your chest, literally. The best part was that it spent more than twenty minutes hopping around your house while you tried to catch it.
On this occasion, you'd put on a checkered tank top with straps, shorts, and sneakers.
"Well, I don't think that frog was poisonous," Lavon says, hands in his pockets.
You opened your mouth, a little scared. "There are poisonous ones around here?"
"Some, but don't worry, they don't show up often."
You look ahead, giving up. The route was calm; you could see three ladies sitting on a bench, watching you with curiosity because of your recent arrival, then talking among themselves. Then you could see children fluttering around the parks, playing. And at last, you arrived at the Rammer Jammer.
Upon entering, you took in the atmosphere. It smelled of bacon, literally. The rays of sunlight warmly illuminated the inside. You could already see three people at the bar, drinking coffee or waiting patiently for their drinks; in fact, you half-heard Lavon greeting people with warmth.
You sat at a table in the middle, watching him. "You already know what I'm going to order," you said, leaning your elbows on the table, smiling at him.
Right then a waitress, Shelley, came over cheerfully. Lavon ordered two plates of pancakes while your gaze drifted away. With your hand on your cheek, you kept observing the atmosphere.
Until you found him again. Him.
You opened your eyes for a moment. It was Wade again, but now, he was working behind the bar. Was he a waiter too? You'd imagined he didn't work, from what both Lavon and Zoe had told you.
"He works here too?" you say, looking at Lavon.
"He's got to earn a living somehow, don't you think?" he asks, watching you.
You look back at him from your seat. And as if by coincidence, his gaze falls on you, and he smiles. You smile back, before looking at Lavon, who was watching you with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" you ask, innocently.
"Oh, nothing," he answered, smiling at you.
You glanced back at Wade, then at Lavon twice, before looking at him again. "I'll be right back." You smile at Lavon before standing up.
You went over to the bar, leaning on it as you watched him bustle from one side to the other, attending to customers. Until when he finally has a free moment, he comes over to you. He slung the rag over his shoulder, offering a crooked smile.
"Well, well." He leaned on the bar, with his bare forearms on the wood, looking at you. "First you spy on me, then you come to my house, and now you're chasing me? I'm starting to think you like me."
You shake your head sweetly, laughing. "No, no, not at all. I came because Lavon invited me for pancakes... In any case, I came here just to thank you." You smile.
"Thank me?" He narrows his eyes, smiling at you. "What for?"
You frown for a few seconds. "Because you turned the volume down in the end. It was a nice detail."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He laughs, cleaning a glass.
"Oh... of course, it must have been the wind. My mistake." You raise your hands in surrender.
"The Alabama wind is very strong. Don't underestimate it." He put the glass down on the bar and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "But since you've come to thank me for something I didn't do, don't you also want to formally introduce yourself? Last night you were left with your hand out and everything."
You laugh, shaking your head. "Right, I'm..."
"Wait." He lifted a finger, stopping you. Then, theatrically, he wiped his hand on the rag before shaking yours. "Now. Wade Kinsella, a pleasure."
You smiled, accepting his hand as you introduced yourself. His hand was warm and rough, and the handshake lasted maybe a second longer than strictly necessary.
"A pleasure, Wade," you replied, without looking away.
You glanced at Lavon for a moment and saw he was watching you —or rather, the two of you. Because your hands were still moving as if nothing had happened. You looked at your hands right away and let go delicately. And immediately you said goodbye to Wade, somewhat embarrassed. He simply waved with his usual smile, watching you as you sat back down.
Lavon raised an eyebrow while he watched you sit. "I'm not going to say anything about what I just saw," he says, starting to cut his pancakes.
You nod, also starting to cut them, eating alongside him. You had to change the subject quickly, because otherwise he'd start asking questions and you wouldn't like it. "Zoe told me she wants to join in on the float," you say, chewing.
"Oh yeah? I thought she didn't want to," he replies.
"Yeah, at first. But I talked to her yesterday, and she said she regretted it... So, can she join?"
"Of course, the more the merrier, really." He smiles.
The rest of breakfast passed without further incident. Lavon told you stories from his NFL days that you didn't ask for but enjoyed all the same, and when Shelley cleared the empty plates, you realized you'd eaten three pancakes without noticing.
When you left the Rammer Jammer, the morning heat was already starting to press. Lavon walked you back to the plantation and, before saying goodbye, pointed out the dirt path leading to the barn.
"It's all yours. If you need more materials, let me know. You can start whenever you want, although first you should wait for your partner, so I recommend you wait," he says, smiling at you.
You frown. "Partner?"
He laughs under his breath, like a child, as he turns around and starts walking to his house.
"Wait! What do you mean? Who is it?" you say out loud, trying to get his attention, but he says nothing. You sigh, and you don't see anyone around the barn. You suppose you'll have to go back to the cabin to rest and come back later. So yes, you did that.
A couple of hours later, when the sun was starting to go down a little, you decided to return to the barn. You'd changed clothes —an old T-shirt you didn't mind staining— and carried your paint box under your arm.
The barn had changed a bit; now there was some kind of platform in the middle, a mini truck with the back full of wires and wood... And among the straw, sunbathing, was your partner.
Wade. Again.
Seriously, who invited this guy?
"Wade?" you ask, narrowing your eyes from a distance, trying to see him, though the sun blinded you.
Wade looks up, putting a hand to his forehead to see you better. "Oh, if it isn't my partner." He gets up, brushing off his clothes and coming closer. "Good thing you came; I was just about to leave."
"What?" you ask. "Already? But we just saw each other a second ago. Besides..." you look around. "You haven't... done anything."
He frowns, indignant. "What do you mean I haven't done anything? I brought all this here. And that... exhausted me." He adds, with a touch of drama. "But back to what I was saying. I have to go to work again. There's... been a mishap with a coworker's shift, yeah."
You nod, believing him. "I see... Will you be here later then?"
"Oh, sure, sure. I'll be here later to help you, don't worry. Do you know how to tie those wires?" He points to the truck.
"Mmh... no, I don't," you confess.
"You just have to use the staple gun, literally." He puts his hand in his pocket, rummaging for something, then holds it out. "Here, this is the plan Lavon wants. It's a float with our flag."
You look delicately at the float, nodding softly. "Alright, it'll be a piece of cake. Don't worry." And suddenly you make a military gesture, dramatically. "I'll do everything within my power!"
He gives you a couple of pats on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you. See you later." He says, then leaves.
You were left alone in the barn, with the plan in one hand and the staple gun in the other. You unfolded the plan on the worktable. Wade's design was... surprisingly good. Clean lines, correct proportions, notes in the margins in messy but legible handwriting.
You got to work. The wires were very stubborn, impossible to glue since they bent easily; stapling them was necessary to make the base. The staple gun jammed every three attempts, and the heat was sticky. But as you progressed, the skeleton of the float began to take shape under your fingers. You weren't even paying attention to how much time had passed.
Next, you grabbed a couple of wooden boards, plus nails and a hammer, and started pounding hard to make the floor. So much so that on several occasions you accidentally hit your hand —what pain!
You put a bandage on your hand and kept working, painting the base white, getting your clothes a bit dirty. At a certain point in the afternoon, someone called your name, making you turn around.
It was Zoe, looking more gangster-like, it seemed. And she wasn't alone; there was a younger girl beside her. "Hi!"
You greeted them with a smile, looking at them from above. "Meet Rose."
"Hi, nice to meet you!" she said. And you responded charmingly. "Likewise."
"Have you been doing all this alone?" Zoe asks, bewildered as she walked around.
"Oh, well, yes. Wade was going to help me, but he said he had a shift. But no worries! If he had work to do, I'm glad. He seems responsible at his job," you said, while painting.
"But I saw him in his cabin, playing the guitar," Rose responds.
"Oh," you add, stopping suddenly.
"Yeah, oh," Zoe crosses her arms. "You know what? I'm going to find him. I'll bring him here. I'm not going to let him get out of work. Besides, you've already done enough," she says firmly, turning around and heading in the direction of the meadow.
You get down from the float, trying not to lean any part of your body on the fresh paint until your feet touch the ground. And you look at Rose. Slowly, you hold out a paintbrush. "Want to paint?"
"I'd love to." She gently grabs the brush.
The two of you mutually began to paint the whole carriage, and later, you started carefully attaching various ribbons that represented the flag.
It wasn't long before you heard footsteps at the barn entrance. This time there were two pairs. Looking up, you saw Zoe, with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, and behind her, Wade, with an expression of discomfort.
"Wow," he said, crossing his arms. "You really have worked."
You hummed at his response as you continued painting and stapling various parts of the float.
Wade instead nodded, and then, to your surprise, came over to you, snatching the staple gun. "Come on, leave that. I'll take over."
"Why?" you ask, frowning.
"You're terrible at stapling these things, and besides, you're exhausted. So let me do it," he insists, without looking at you as he settles in to start.
You stay silent for a few seconds, then shrug, accepting his sudden change of heart to help. You went over to the straw in front of you, lying down while gazing at the orange sky above.
You hadn't realized that in the end, you fell asleep on the straw.
The next morning, the sun hits you right in the face, literally, the only head poking out of the pile of straw.
It turns out you'd fallen asleep, and no one had told you. You opened your eyes slowly, turning your head side to side, until you saw that the float was ready, decorated and everything! Only the final details were missing.
You started half-listening to a conversation between Rose and Wade —well, Rose mainly, because Wade was getting tired of listening to her.
"His name is Frederick Dean. He has two first names, something about that is so classic and cool. And my God... I saw he was reading Chew the other day, which is my favorite comic! But I didn't know how to tell him."
Wade interrupts, glancing at her sideways.
"Look, girl, do I look like iCarly to you? If I hear the name Frederick Dean one more time, I'm gonna glue your lips shut with hot glue."
Rose narrows her eyes. "Where is your sense of romance?"
Zoe comes in with several things in her hands, but she was coming for you, asking, "Where is she?" with a frown.
Wade jerked his thumb backward without looking up from what he was doing. "In the straw."
Your hand emerged from it, lifting as if to indicate where you were. "I can't feel my body..." you said, with a hoarse voice.
Zoe blinked. Then she looked at Wade with narrowed eyes. "She fell asleep here?"
"She dropped like a stone," Wade said, shrugging. "And before you say anything, you were the one who told me not to wake her up."
"Because she was exhausted! She did almost all the work herself," Zoe responds.
"Yeah, yeah." Wade raised his hands in peace. "It's fine by me. She's still there, breathing, alive and everything."
"It's not the first time someone's slept like that," Rose adds, taking a photo. "For my blog," she murmurs.
Zoe slowly approaches you, extending a hand and pulling you out of the pile of straw. Wade suppresses a laugh and looks forward, trying not to look at the absurd state you were in, but it was impossible.
"You look a mess," Wade said, now looking at you.
"It's my new look, it's called straw-chic." You do a twirl, theatrically showing yourself off ridiculously. You had straw everywhere, even in your messy hair.
"It suits you, in the bad way," he replied, while Zoe laughed along with Rose.
"Aww, thanks..." you say, looking at him.
"That wasn't a compliment." He smiles, shaking his head.
You laugh softly, looking at the float, and are surprised. "Oh, wow... It looks..."
"Amazing!" Lavon responds, arriving on the scene. "Better than I ever imagined. Wade, my friend, I knew I could count on you..." He chuckles. "And Rose Hattenbarger, well, since you're joining us, would you do me the honor of wearing the Alabama costume?"
"I'd love to, sir!" she responds, enthusiastically.
Lavon nods, until he looks at you. His face changes expression. "Ugh, heavens... But what happened to you?"
You wave your hand vaguely. "I fell asleep, it's nothing."
"What do you mean it's nothing?" Lavon looked you up and down with a mix of horror and amusement. "It looks like a scarecrow exploded on your head."
"It's her new look!" Wade intervened, not looking up from a wire. "It's called straw-chic. Isn't she modern?"
"It's... something," Lavon conceded, clearly not understanding the concept. "Well, go to your cabin, shower and fix yourself up. The parade starts in a couple of hours and I want my artist in the front row. And presentable, please."
"Yes, sir," you said, smiling at him. "I'll take a shower. See you all later." You wave briefly at everyone, heading off.
The parade was about to begin!
The mid-morning sun beat down on the main street of Bluebell, but no one seemed to mind. Blue and red bunting fluttered among the trees, children's laughter fluttered like birds, and the smell of sweet corn and cotton candy floated in the air. The Founder's Day parade was in full swing.
You had placed yourself in a discreet background, leaning against a lamppost. You'd showered, put on a light flowered dress, and gathered your hair in a low ponytail, leaving behind the straw-chic look to Lavon's relief.
The float was moving slowly down the street, pulled by a tractor driven by Wade himself. It was beautiful. The flags fluttered, the rugby ball gleamed in the sun, and Rose, perched on the back in the Alabama costume (which was, in fact, a bird), waved at the crowd as if she were the queen of the carnival.
"Look!" a child shouted next to you.
Rose spotted you in the crowd and gave you an enthusiastic two-handed wave. You waved back, laughing.
You felt happy in that moment, seeing so many people together and with such enthusiasm; it felt good. Better than California, truth be told.
On the back, behind Rose, were Zoe and Lavon waving at everyone. As soon as they saw you, they waved too, and you returned the greeting affectionately.
And behind them, in a brief silence, appeared the Hell's Belles float, led by Lemon Belle. Truthfully, her float seemed beautiful to you; it had floral details everywhere, and on top of that, a live dance! It was charming, like those classic period films. You applauded, more for the work they'd done, not knowing that that woman was the devil incarnate.
More floats came after, one with greenish and bluish tones, another representing a country... The whole event was beautiful.
However, at one point, something happened up ahead.
You couldn't tell exactly what, but Zoe suddenly said something to Lavon, going directly to Wade's tractor, and suddenly... were they struggling? You didn't know what was happening, but it seemed she wanted him to stop the tractor. And yet, Wade refused.
That's when things got out of control.
While struggling the whole time, the tractor veered off course, crashing into various festival items: tables, a bench... even a fire hydrant, which caused water to spray everywhere. The carriage moved across the grass, slowly getting damaged, until finally, the tractor stopped.
Since the float ahead stopped, the one behind (the Belles') crashed into yours, causing a domino effect with the following floats, sending several decorations tumbling down.
It was horrible.
You quickly approached your float. And God, it was in bad shape.
"Well... at least the rugby goal hasn't fallen," you murmured.
Suddenly, that goal wobbled, until it fell to the ground and broke, scaring several people.
Damn.
You slowly walked toward the street, observing the disaster more clearly.
"What the hell was that?!" Lavon was saying, looking down at Zoe.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I promise I'll explain, but please, just try to cover for me!" Zoe said, nervous and ashamed.
Lavon gets off the float, heading straight to his post, microphone in hand, and starts talking.
"Well, welcome to another year in the parade of..."
As you listened to him, your gaze went to Rose, who was wobbling on the float. You headed toward her, raising your hands. "Get down, Rose, I'll catch you!"
Rose crouches down trembling; you couldn't see her expression because of the bird mask, but you guessed she was a bit scared by the whole sudden situation. She grabs your hands and you help her down carefully. "Are you okay?" you ask.
"Yes, yes, I'm okay..." she says, voice muffled.
"How about we go with the others, yeah?" You try to calm her down, and she nods, guiding her toward the crowd.
Everything was chaos. People moved from one place to another, upset by the situation; some trying to help people from other floats, in case another accident happened.
A while later, when things had calmed down, the remaining people started cleaning the streets. The event itself had been ruined and "canceled," so to speak. Lavon's speech was excellent, of course, but the parade was not.
You found yourself sweeping up the mess, alongside Rose and Wade, who was looking over the tractor. And at an unexpected moment, Frederick Dean appeared for Rose.
"Hey, Rose... I saw the accident, are you okay?" he asks, looking at her.
"Yes, I am," she replies firmly. "Shouldn't you be with the little princess of Magnolia?" she adds abruptly, catching you off guard as you swept.
"Oh... okay," he said, confused, about to leave.
"Hey, Rose," Wade calls, looking at her. "Do you... have the latest issue of Chew? I'd like you to lend it to me."
Frederick turns around, watching her. "You read Chew?"
"Yeah, man, she reads it... She's practically the president of the fan club," Wade adds.
Rose smiles, "Except I think releasing issue twenty-seven out of order was really weird."
"Me too! I don't understand why you'd do that, especially when the USDA's suicide mission was so great in the eighteenth century," Frederick adds, starting a conversation with her.
That gesture makes you smile, because of Wade's intentions, and so you kept sweeping, processing everything that had happened.
"I'll ask you for it later," Wade says, stepping away from the tractor to leave them alone. And he headed toward you.
"Hey," he adds.
You look up, watching him before continuing. "Hey."
"Need help?" he asks, nodding toward the broom.
You shake your head. "Oh, no, no. I'm almost done."
"Good." He leaned against the lamppost, arms crossed. "Because I wasn't actually going to help you. I was just trying to be polite."
You let out a low laugh, shaking your head. There was a silent pause; there wasn't much cheer after the accident.
"What a mess, huh?" he says, breaking the ice, trying to get a laugh or something. But you didn't respond; you were focused on sweeping up the remains.
"I'm sorry about the float," he adds, watching you as you swept. "I mean, well, that you'd worked so much only for it to get destroyed... must be tough."
"Yeah... it's a shame. But oh well..." You shrugged, without stopping sweeping. "We saw it finished. It was beautiful. And during the little bit of parade that lasted, people applauded. That's already more than I expected when I got here." You smile a little.
Although you couldn't see his face, he smiled a little, watching you.
"You know what? Leave the broom," he says, coming closer.
"What?"
Wade gently takes the broom from you, starting to sweep himself. He didn't say anything about it, and you just stood there watching him as he swept up the remains.
"Thank you..." you add, smiling at him warmly. And slowly, you started walking toward your house.
Night had fallen over Bluebell quickly. The heat finally relented, and the song of crickets filled the silence over the fields. You were in your cabin, wrapped in a light blanket on the sofa, with your bare feet on the cushions you'd put out the first day. Tea steamed between your hands, and a box of saltine crackers sat half-finished on the coffee table. You weren't really hungry; you just needed something to do with your hands.
There was a knock at the door. Two soft, almost timid knocks.
When you opened it, you found Zoe on the porch. She was wearing the same dress from the parade, but her updo had come undone and her makeup was a little smudged.
"Hi..." she said, with a smaller voice than usual. "Can I come in? I brought tea. Well, you already have tea. But I brought..." She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a crumpled bag. "Supermarket cookies. They're terrible. I'm sorry..."
"Come in," you said, stepping aside. "I was just about to pour more tea."
Zoe came in and sank onto the sofa with the weight of someone who'd carried a whole day on her shoulders. For a while, neither of you said anything. You poured her a cup, and she took it with both hands, staring into the dark liquid as if looking for answers.
"I'm an idiot..." she finally said, breaking the silence. "I'm an idiot, I ruined the parade. And the town hates me..." she takes a sip. "I'm so sorry about the float, really. I can explain."
You look at her, taking a sip.
"See... there was this patient, from the Belles. It turns out she has an illness, and I flat-out refused to let her join the parade. It was dangerous, but she didn't want to hear it. So... I prescribed her some pills; obviously I told her to take just one, because they're really strong. And... it turns out she took more than she should have, which caused an overdose in the middle of the parade. When I saw her before she passed out, I tried to stop everything before it got that far. But... I just caused more problems."
There was a brief pause, and you hummed in response. "That makes sense... no wonder you were struggling with Wade."
She nods, staring into space.
"Listen... it's not your fault, really. And if you're wondering, I'm not mad or anything."
"But... you did the whole float for the parade..."
"I know, but that's not right, because we all did it, not just me. But the thing is, it's not your fault. You know what would have happened if you hadn't intervened? Imagine the poor girl fainting and falling to the ground. She could have had a concussion," you say, watching her. "You did what you could, really. And I'm grateful you helped her..."
"I wish people saw it that way..." she sighs.
"They will, just wait," you reply, smiling at her.
She laughs, her back falling against the sofa. "You know what I miss about New York?" She closes her eyes.
"Mmm?"
"Watching series or TV shows... especially sitcoms, I love them."
Your gaze slides toward the television, then back to her. "Well... there's a TV. Do you feel like watching some series... with me?" you ask, making Zoe open her eyes and look at you softly.
"I'd love to," she replies, with a slight, charming pout.
You hand her the remote, letting her be the one to choose. Meanwhile, you adjust the blanket, covering her completely.
Zoe turned on the TV and started zapping. She passed a news channel, a rerun of a cooking reality show, an American football game Lavon was probably watching at his mansion. Until she stopped on a channel airing reruns of Friends.
"This one okay?" she asked, twirling the remote between her fingers.
"It's perfect." You sank a little deeper into the sofa. "But I warn you, I know all the dialogue."
Zoe let out a soft laugh and set the remote aside. On screen, Monica, Rachel, Chandler, Joey, Phoebe, and Ross appeared at the fountain in the opening credits, and you hummed along softly, just to annoy her. Zoe rolled her eyes, but said nothing. And when you turned to grab another saltine cracker, you saw her smiling.
"Thank you..." she said, without looking at you, her eyes fixed on the TV.
"Nothing to thank." You shrugged. "That's what friends are for," you add warmly.
You couldn't see Zoe's reaction because you were focused on the show, but her eyes sparkled a little, as if having you confirm you were already friends had lifted her spirits.
"I'm glad you're my neighbor," she says, glancing at you sideways.
"Me too." You look at her, smiling.
Just then, Chandler's first joke filled the room. The two of you laughed quietly as the night wore on and the show played on.
Synopsis: 10 Months after meeting the woman his mother introduced him to, Michael ended up getting attached faster than he expected. He never expected his days to shine a little differently.
A.N: Hi! Here is part 2! Enjoy. (Part 1)
Tag: @slut4michaelbakari
From the forced introduction in the Photo Booth to late night calls on the phone during press tours. Michael made well on his promise to his mama to at least court Y/n.
Michael was nervous at the beginning. Not because things were awkward or bad. Quite the opposite actually.
The man was catching feelings. Fast. Everyone noticed it— his crew, colleagues, and especially his family.
It was little things. How his smiled lingered on his face whenever he got off the phone with you. The extra attention and time he spent when planning his schedule for the months.
He was a busy man. Always on the go, but he learned from last relationships that making time is necessary. Even if it’s a few text messages, or short Face Time call.
It was even better when you told him you understood his work life. That he can’t be there all the time. That messages would stay on delivered. He’s an Award winning actor, so it’s obvious he’s in demand for films and television shows.
That’s why Sundays were a special day. Both of you are free and can wind down together.
“Baby, what do you want for breakfast?!” You shout from the kitchen. Your voice carrying across the rented mid-luxury townhome. The place you call home since moving to LA.
“Cook whatever! You know I’ll eat anything you make,” Michael replies back. That deep, raspy morning voice echoed from the back bathroom.
Opening up the fridge, you look inside searching what to throw together. After being with him for a few months, you come to realize how much that man can eat. It’s the fifth time this month you’ve went grocery shopping and had groceries delivered just to keep the fridge stocked.
You even went out to purchase a deep freezer, just to keep extra food in. Pantry stays full too.
Light footsteps sound in the hallway. Michael makes his way into the kitchen, humming a random tune as he slides into a stool at the kitchen island.
“So, what’s on the menu today chef?” He teases. Those dark eyes tracing over every inch of your frame in the multi-colored muumuu. Not in a creepy, perverted way.
The man always looked at you in adoration. Admiring the beautiful woman he calls his. He especially loved when you dressed comfortably. Whether it’s one of his shirts, a nightgown or even basketball shorts with a tank top. He always thought you were fine. Bonnet and all.
“I was thinking high protein french toast with fried eggs, bacon and croissants with jam. What do you think?” You ask while still looking in the refrigerator.
It’s silent for a few seconds. Scrunching your face, you turn around. “Babe, did you hear me- mm!”
Michael silences you with a quick kiss. It catches you off guard. He tilts his head down a bit, studying your reaction again before pressing another kiss to your lips.
This one slow, reverent, and attentive. Pulling back a few centimeters, he lets out a small breath. “Wewe ni mrembo..” he exclaims while wrapping his toned arms around your waist.
You practically melt into his arms when he speaks Swahili to you. A shy grin appears on your face as a giggle slips out.
“Asante, mpenzi wangu.” You reply back, eyes tracing over his features.
“Someone’s been practicing, huh?” He asks with that famous grin. His dimples showing a bit.
“Well, I do have a great teacher.”
“Damn right. Sounds good coming out your mouth, too.” He presses his face into your neck, kissing softly.
“Mm, baby..don’t be starting that..” your voice goes up an octave slightly.
“Aight, fine. I know you still tired from the past two days,” Michael pulls back with a mocking laugh. “You usually able to keep with me, baby. Whats got you feeling like this?”
“Maybe because my man can’t keep his hands off of me.”
“I will never, ever, keep my hands off you. You will always be mine.”
“Always? How you know that for sure?” You tease with a slight raised eyebrow.
“Don’t play with me. You ain’t going nowhere. For several reasons,” he counters while moving around the kitchen.
“Please enlighten me on these reasons since you seem so sure.” You had over to the cabinet near the sink, bending down to grab the large mixing bowl.
“For one, my mama loves you. So that’s locked in. Since day one.” His says proudly as he stands a couple of feet behind you. “Two, you practically live with me and I’m always here with you. Third, I really don’t feel like returning this.”
You scrunch your face in confusion. “Returning what baby?” You ask as you stand back up holding the glass bowl. Turning around, you find Michael down on one knee.
A red velvet box in hand.
The top of it open. Revealing the clean, shiny gold resting inside. The rainbow reflection of the radiant cut diamond resting inside.
It stared back at you in all of its expensive glory. You study it and look back to him and then the ring. The back again at him.
“Michael-“
“I know.”
“You serious?”
“Yes. Very serious.”
“That’s like 3 carats.”
“5. It’s 5 carats. An ideal diamond. VVS1, Color D, radiant cut. Has that vintage and nature look you love.”
“Michael..” your voice lowers a little. Your hands holding the glass bowl firmer.
“Baby, I love you. Everything about you. Since the day I saw you at the Golden Globes, I knew there was something about you that I couldn’t understand. Then you came to my moms house. And I just knew God was telling me something,” he takes a shaky breath. You can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s looking at you.
“These months with you, have changed me in ways I never thought possible. You are mine. Not just in the physical sense, but I feel that spiritual connection with you. One that I’ve never got with anybody. So, I’m asking you, right here, right now..”
Your breath stills. The atmosphere becoming raw and intimate.
“Will you marry me?”
Excitement crawls up your spine, but you can’t resist to tease him.
“You asking me to be the Chi Chi to your Goku, Michael?” The anime reference slipping out your mouth. He snorts out a laugh.
“Girl, yes. I’m asking for that. Please be my Chi Chi. Goku couldn’t survive without her and I can’t survive without you.”
“Yes. I’ll marry you baby. A hundred times yes.” You laugh as you bend over and place both hands on his face, kissing him.
He slides the back of his hand to the nape of your neck, his fingers gripping the back of your hair gently as he deepens it. The overwhelming emotion flowing out of you both.
“If you don’t like the ring, we can get it changed-“
“No. I love it. You did amazing. Don’t change a thing.”
“Yeah? Cmere so I can put it on.” He takes your hand and slide it over your ring finger.
“Who all knows about this?”
“My parents. Yours. They were all over the moon about it. Especially our mamas. They both mentioned grand babies.” He laughs at the memory. You roll your eyes playfully.
“Of course they did.”
He reaches into his right pocket and pulls out his phone. He opens Instagram and swipes over to the camera.
“Uhn Uhn baby, I look ugly right now-“
“You look like mine. Don’t disrespect what’s mine.”
That took you by surprise and you look at him. He smiles at the camera as he records. “She said yes! And yes, we’re together for everyone who didn’t know..”
“Everyone didn’t know, baby.” You chuckle gently. Raising up your left hand, the ring flashes the screen. He kisses your neck while cheesing hard.
He ends the recording and rewatches it. Without hesitation, he posts it.
“I gotta prep myself for these DMs from your fans and random strangers now.”
“As long as no niggas get bold.”
“Oh my goodness, Michael-“
“Nah, nah. You know who I’m talking about.”
“For the last time, Daniel is not into me.”
“Please. I’m not blind. Nigga was standing too close to you when we were at that pool party. Even touched your face.”
“He was removing a spider web.”
“Nigga think he spider-man..tryna remove spider webs and shit-“
Benny realize that if your wife decide to open a bussines, the husband is automatically employed to help. Maybe reader can make jewellery and stuff. Something funny and maybe benny taking to the club to sell some of the stuff 😄
well of course! i love Benny <3
When Benny started dating you the boys had no clue their rebel of a friend would change so drastically. And for a while, he was the same old Benny, quiet, keeping to himself. He got in trouble almost constantly, fights, crashes, arrests.
Then Benny proposed. You got married within the month, and that’s when Benny began to change. Just in simple ways. He was still riding, fighting and cussing out cops. But, he would come to the club with printed flower patterned business cards. He’d hand them out to the boys with girlfriends or wives and he’d try his best to support his girl.
Because shortly after you married Benny, you started your own handmade jewellery business. You were proud of it, so proud that Benny couldn’t say no to helping you promote it.
“Do you think the other women will be there tonight?” Your voice is innocent as Benny tugs a white shirt over his muscled shoulders.
“Yeah baby,” he turns to face you as he picks his vandals jacket up off the end of the bed. He loves the way you’re looking at him now, sweet as sugar. You bat your eyelashes and take a step towards him and he knows what you’re going to ask.
“D’you think you could take some of the stock down there? To the club?”
Benny breathes a sigh as your cold hands come to rest over his chest, so chilly he can feel the temperature through the fabric of his shirt. He reaches up and holds your cool fingers in his warm ones.
“You asking me to move the merch baby?”
That pulls a laugh from you, and Benny latches onto the smile that spreads on your face. “You make it sound like I’m a criminal!” You lean in closer, giving him a quick kiss. “But yes honey, please move the merchandise.”
So Benny does. Later that night he shows up to the club with a small crate of your hand crafted necklaces tied securely to the back of his bike.
“She got to working overtime, huh?” The boys call, teasing as he enters. But Benny ignores the sniggers from his friends as he moves toward the ladies table in the centre of the room. They’ve all gathered together as usual on Friday nights, and Benny places the crate down in the middle of the table without saying a thing.
“What’s this?” Monica grumbles, before standing to get a better look inside the crate. Benny doesn’t say a word, letting your work speak for itself. “Is this part of your wife’s business? The one from the card last week?” Her accent is thick, like a lot of the people here, and Benny just nods.
Some of the other women stand to look inside the crate, sifting through with gentle hands. He can hear the boys chuckling somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t bother to look. He doesn’t mind doing this, despite the shit he gets given for it. Especially when he comes home and gets his grateful and loving wife all to himself.
“How much is this one?” A brunette girl Benny doesn’t recognise holds up an elegant silver necklace.
“Thirty.” You told Benny to sell everything at twenty dollars, unsure if it was good enough to go at any higher rate. But Benny sees the work you put in, knows it’s worth more than your imposter syndrome implies.
The woman thinks it over, then nods and fishes out thirty dollars in cash from her wallet. As soon as she does the other women seem to get a spark of confidence and start asking Benny the prices for other things. He’s become a salesman in a matter of minutes, and he’s acquired one hundred and fifty dollars by the time the women are done with him.
When he gets home, admittedly after a few drinks with the boys, he saunters into the bedroom trying to mask a smile. He’s not an upbeat guy, he’s no one’s personal cheerleader, but his heart beats a little faster now as he sees you brushing your hair at the vanity.
When you see his reflection in the mirror you spin around “How was it?”
“Good. The boys are going for a ride tomorrow.” He knows it’s not what you meant. He watches you deflate and instantly feels just a little bad about it.
“Oh that’s nice.” You spin back around to the mirror, trying to act as though you aren’t disappointed. “Are you going with them?”
Benny watches as you pick up your hairbrush again, absentmindedly pulling it through your hair. He moves slow toward you, leaning down and placing kisses along your neck and bare shoulders.
“Mhm, I’m gonna go with ‘em” he mumbles against your skin, hand slipping into his jeans pocket to grab the hard earned money from tonight. “I figured you’d want some time alone.” He kisses the sweet spot on your neck that he knows you like, “since you gotta do something with this.” He places the cash on your vanity, watching your eyes go wide.
“Benny,” his name comes out a shocked gasp from your lips. “You made sales?” You stand from your seat, letting him pull you around to face him. His hands are warm on your hips as he tugs you closer.
“You told me to move the merchandise,” he answers, one hand moving up to the strap of your nightgown. “So I moved it.”
You let out an excited laugh, grabbing his face to kiss him. It’s rough and overjoyed, but Benny loves it. Loves you.
“How much did you make?” You say when you pull away from his lips.
Benny plays with the thin strap of your nightgown some more. “One fifty.” His touch gently brushing the skin of your shoulder makes you shiver.
“One hundred and fifty dollars?” You sound like you can’t quite believe it. In fact, you don’t believe it at all.
“Mhm.” Benny’s gaze is locked onto you, unable to move from the ever growing smile on your face. The smile he’s dying to kiss away from your lips until all that’s left is an ‘oh’ shape as you cry out for more of whatever he gives you.
“Oh my god, Benny that’s amazing!” You pull him in to kiss you again, and he accepts all the love you have to give. He’s proud of you, happy that you’re proud of yourself too, though he doubts he could find the words to ever say it aloud. But he doesn’t have to, because you just keep kissing him, tugging him toward the bed. And who’s he to deny you?
THE BIKERIDERS TAGLIST: @zablife
GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @s00buwu
As I said last week, I went through some writing to see if there was anything I could post during this writing lull period for me and found this.
Here’s a sample, let me know what you think or if you would be interested in this. If enough people are, I’ll try to polish it up. A heads up that this is 18+. Austin and Reader get busy in it.
You smiled to yourself as you felt the slightest bit of cold air hit your back. It was a contrast to the steaming hot water hitting your chest and cascading down your body. A shiver crept up your spine, but not from the cold, it was from the body that suddenly pressed up against you. It was somehow warmer than the water itself, adding to the heat of the moment. You let your body lean into his as his hands found your hips and slowly crept up to your ribs. You knew exactly what mood Austin was in by how he kissed you before you disappeared into the bathroom earlier, surprising you with how long it took him to join you.
“Took you long enough” you said as you spun in his arms to face him.
“I had to calm down a little.” Austin mumbled out as he pressed kisses down your neck, lips lingering after each one.
“Oh?” You whispered, half distracted by his actions. He pushed you up against the tiled wall and placed his hands on either side of your head, caging you between him and the hard surface behind you.
summary: after a big event behind you, you're finally able to relax into the arms of your husband
Your hand found his bare chest, right above his heart, tracing faint hairs of gold. Chill air blew past the curtains, but it was dark outside, you didn't have to worry about anyone seeing you, except for the moon hung up bright in the sky.
Austin's arms were wrapped around your body, skin pressed on skin, breaths touching each other in the most intimate of ways. Neither of you spoke for a while as you let the day linger on your skin, the tranquility a stark contrast to what the day had been.
Big wedding, bigger cake, with laughter so loud no one cared about the music. It was a good day— seeing two people you cared about happy and in love would make any day a good day.
The day was theirs, but the evening was yours. And you both made sure you'd remember that the following day as well. Lips bruised the skin above his chest, trailing cheekily to his jaw, right there where you knew he liked. Austin's lips were a plump pink— beautifully seductive that made you blush at the thought of his sweet torture.
You let out a soft sigh, feeling content and relaxed in the warmth and safety of his arms. God, you were happy. Did he know that he made you the happiest? Did he know that you blushed at the vague mention of his name?
"You know I love you?" you asked, shuffling against him, your jaw settling on his pectorals. Austin smiled softly, squeezing your hip.
"Yeah, baby. I think you made that very clear tonight." His tone was laced with playfulness, but he didn't quite understand that you loved loved him.
"I love your hair— It's blonde and it's pretty. And I know it's weird, but I love your body hair as well. It's golden—" Austin let out a laugh, his head squishing against the pillow impossibly further. But you didn't stop.
"I love that little scar on your eyebrow—"
He interrupted you, amused. "The one I got from filming Elvis?"
You nodded, no longer blushing at your love being finally given a proper voice. "Yeah, because that was the moment where I was like, yup, I'm gonna marry that man." You smiled a little at the memory of yourself sitting on a plush chair at the cinema. "That leather jumpsuit did a number on me."
Austin hummed, eyes softening as he looked at you. "I'm glad my discomfort served a purpose."
"I love it when you get mad as well, because it's always a fine line of you looking like this adorable lion cub and sexy, hot husband," you grinned to yourself, then halted, giving his chest a light slap. "But I don't love it when you're mad at me— You've never been mad at me though, right, Aus?"
"No, baby. I could never be mad at you. You're my wife."
You squirmed, muffling your squeal against his skin. "And when you call me your wife. Lord, do I love that." Your rant went on for another two or three minutes, your lips twitched into smiles and your hands moved animatedly— you couldn't even pay attention to the man you loved himself.
"God, baby, you don't even know what you do to me." His lips pressed to your temple, lingering warmth with eyes fluttered shut. "I'm not good enough with words... But you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You blinked gently. "Really?"
Austin breathed out, his hand reaching to your hair, brushing it behind your ear. "Baby, you have no idea. The day you looked at me was the best day of my life. I remember sweating and thinking, there is no way this girl is single. And there is no way she'd have me, she's too good to be true."
You chuckled. "No, you didn't think that." But he nodded, dead serious.
"Oh big time. Then at some point I wanted to ask you out, but chickened out and went to the bathroom instead." Austin shook his head. "Then Callum told me that you liked me too, and the rest is history.”
You hummed. "So we owe our marriage to Callum?"
"Eh, let's not give him full credit for that. He gave me a boost of courage."
"Bless him," you mumbled and placed a kiss on his chest. "Either way, my monolgue comes to an end and I hoped you loved every word of it."
Austin let out a chuckle, bringing his hand to your cheeks, squeezing them together to place a wet kiss on your lips. "Now, since my monologue sucked—"
"—I loved it."
"Let me show you with actions." In a quick motion you were flipped on your back, contagious laughter falling from your lips, but his delicious torture had just started.
Summary: At the premiere of Sinners, Michael B. Jordan becomes intrigued by an interviewer whose unique style stands out from everyone else on the red carpet. Their playful interview and undeniable chemistry quickly go viral online, with fans obsessing over every interaction between them. After running into each other again at another event, the connection between them grows more genuine away from the cameras, eventually leading Michael to finally ask her out.
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while I hope you guys enjoy. Also leave some comments if you liked it. And you can ask if there’s anything or anyone you want me to write about.
The carpet outside the premiere for Sinners was loud in the way only Hollywood premieres could be.
Cameras flashing nonstop.
Publicists yelling names over each other.
Reporters trying to squeeze in one last question before talent got pulled away.
And through all of it, Michael B. Jordan moved through the chaos like he’d been born for it. Black suit perfectly tailored. Gold watch catching under the lights. Easy smile. Calm. Controlled.
Everybody around him looked exactly how you expected them to look at an event like this.
Neutral colors.
Designer gowns.
Safe.
Predictable.
Then his eyes landed on you.
And he paused.
Not long enough for anyone else to notice.
But long enough for his manager walking beside him to follow his line of sight.
You were standing near the middle of the press line holding a microphone with your station’s logo on it, waiting for your turn. Your outfit looked nothing like everybody else’s. A patchwork mini dress in warm jewel tones hugged your body before falling into soft ruffled layers, paired with vintage Dior mule heels covered in handwritten-style details and tiny carved hearts. Gold coin anklets wrapped around your ankle, softly clinking when you moved, while your huge halo of curls, glossy lips, and stacks of rings made you look less like an interviewer and more like the main event.
And the biggest difference?
Your hair.
Styled in a way that looked inspired by anime characters more than Hollywood glam.
People kept glancing at you.
Some confused.
Some judgmental.
You didn’t care.
Michael noticed that immediately.
“What outlet is she with?” he asked casually.
His publicist looked over. “The one in the silver chains?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to skip it?”
He kept watching you while another interviewer talked at him.
“Nah,” he said. “Actually… make sure we stop there.”
—
By the time he finally reached your section of the carpet, social media was already halfway losing its mind because clips of him staring in your direction were spreading online.
You didn’t know that yet.
You were fixing your cue cards when his team suddenly stepped in.
“Michael’s coming to you next.”
You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”
The assistant grinned. “Seriously.”
Before you could respond, there he was.
Closer than expected.
Tall.
Warm cologne.
Smile dangerous enough to make people forget basic sentences.
“Hey,” he said smoothly. “How you doin’?”
Professional.
Stay professional.
“I’m good,” you answered, lifting the mic. “You?”
“Better now.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly.
Oh.
So this was the energy.
Behind the cameras, you heard somebody cough trying not to laugh.
The interview started normal enough.
Questions about the movie.
Filming.
Cast chemistry.
But Michael kept looking at you a little too long after every answer.
And you definitely noticed.
“So,” you said, glancing at your notes. “Fans online say this might be your most intense role yet.”
“Probably,” he admitted. “I had to lock in different for this one.”
“You strike me as somebody who gets obsessed with characters.”
“I do.”
“Like anime level obsessed?”
His face lit up immediately.
“Oh nah, you watch anime?”
You laughed. “Why you sound shocked?”
“Nobody on this carpet brought up anime all night.”
“That’s because they boring.”
He stared at you for a second before laughing hard enough to lean back.
The staff behind the cameras started laughing too.
“Oh, nah,” he grinned. “You funny.”
“You saying I’m wrong?”
“I’m saying you brave for saying it out loud.”
“What’s your favorite anime?” you asked.
“Depends. You judging my answer?”
“Absolutely.”
He pointed at you dramatically. “See? This why I gotta think carefully.”
The chemistry shifted right there.
Everybody around you felt it.
The teasing.
The eye contact.
The way he kept smiling before answering questions now.
At one point he looked down at your rings.
“You got a whole anime-villain aesthetic going on.”
“You like it though.”
His eyes flicked back up to yours.
“…Maybe I do.”
Oh, the internet was about to explode.
—
And explode it did.
By the time you got home that night, your phone looked insane.
TikTok edits.
Tweets.
Slow-motion clips.
People zooming in on the way Michael looked at you.
One tweet had over 300k likes:
Michael B. Jordan looked at her like she was the post-credit scene.
You laughed so hard you almost dropped your phone.
Your friend called immediately.
“GIRL.”
“I know!”
“No, you don’t understand. Black Twitter is writing wedding vows already.”
You opened another video.
This one zoomed in on Michael smiling after you called everybody on the carpet boring.
The comments were even worse.
HE WANT HER BAD.
That man folded over anime.
The chemistry??? Oh this dangerous.
Honestly?
You found the whole thing hilarious.
A little flattering too.
But mostly funny.
Until you saw Michael himself liked one of the clips.
Then another.
Then another.
“Oh,” you muttered to yourself.
Okay.
Maybe not entirely funny.
—
About three weeks later, you saw him again unexpectedly at a fashion event in New York City.
You were talking to another journalist when you heard somebody behind you say:
“So you been roasting me online?”
You turned around fast.
Michael stood there wearing all black again, hands in his pockets, smiling like he already knew your reaction.
You laughed immediately. “I did not roast you.”
“You reposted a tweet calling me animated.”
“Because your facial expressions were dramatic.”
“That’s hate.”
“That’s honesty.”
He shook his head, grinning.
This time there were no cameras directly in your face.
No interview format.
No rush.
So the conversation came easier.
Longer.
He asked about your job.
You asked about filming overseas.
You ended up talking about anime again for nearly twenty minutes beside the bar while people passing by kept recognizing both of you from the viral clips.
One girl literally walked past whispering:
“That’s them.”
You covered your face laughing.
“This is ridiculous.”
Michael looked way too pleased about it.
“You don’t like the internet shipping us?”
“I think the internet needs hobbies.”
“Mmm.” He tilted his head slightly. “I ain’t say they was wrong though.”
Your stomach flipped annoyingly.
He noticed.
And for the first time since meeting you, Michael looked slightly nervous himself.
Not actor smooth.
Not red carpet polished.
Just nervous.
He rubbed the back of his neck once before speaking.
“So…” he started carefully. “You maybe wanna hang out sometime when millions of people not watching?”
You raised an eyebrow on purpose. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Trying?”
“You making me work for it.”
You pretended to think about it while he watched you closely.
Then you smiled.
“Okay,” you said. “But if you pick a bad restaurant, I’m tweeting about it.”
Michael laughed immediately, relief written all over his face.
“Aight,” he nodded. “That’s fair.”
-
Michael stared at you for another second after you agreed.
Not the cocky red-carpet stare everybody online kept making edits about.
Something softer.
Like he was surprised you actually said yes.
“Aight,” he said slowly, smiling to himself. “Cool. Cool.”
“You nervous?” you teased.
“Nah.”
“You rubbed the back of your neck.”
“That don’t mean nothing.”
“It means everything.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “See? This why talking to you stressful.”
“And yet here you are.”
“And yet here I am.”
The silence after that wasn’t awkward either.
Just charged.
The kind where both people are suddenly very aware they’re standing too close.
Music from the event pulsed softly around you while guests floated past in designer outfits pretending not to stare.
Michael leaned slightly closer. “Lemme get your number before the internet somehow leaks it first.”
“That’s actually fair.”
You handed him your phone.
His fingers brushed yours for maybe half a second too long.
Intentional.
Definitely intentional.
You watched him type his contact in.
Michael 🖤
You looked at the name and snorted.
“Oh you got game.”
“I got confidence.”
“Barely.”
He placed a hand dramatically over his chest like you wounded him. “Damn.”
“You survived.”
“Not emotionally.”
—
The internet got worse after the second event.
Much worse.
Because this time there were photos.
Clear ones.
Pictures of you and Michael B. Jordan standing in the corner talking like nobody else existed.
One blurry clip caught him leaning close so he could hear you better over the music.
Another showed you laughing while touching his arm.
People lost their minds.
Again.
You were sitting on your couch in an oversized T-shirt scrolling through Twitter when your phone buzzed.
It was Michael
Michael 🖤:
So apparently we trending again.
You:
“Again” sounds tired. You enjoying this.
Michael 🖤:
Little bit.
Another text came immediately after.
Michael 🖤:
They saying I look at you like I discovered love.
You nearly choked laughing.
You:
The edits are INSANE.
Michael 🖤:
Send me your favorite one.
You:
Absolutely not.
Michael 🖤:
Coward.
You ended up sending him three anyway.
Which turned into both of you texting until almost two in the morning.
It was easy in a way you didn’t expect.
No forced flirting.
No weird celebrity ego.
Just conversation.
Anime.
Movies.
Music.
Horrible premiere food.
He sent voice notes sometimes, his deep voice rougher late at night.
You hated how much you liked hearing them.
At one point he sent:
Aight but be honest… you really thought I was staring at you first night?
You smirked at your phone before replying.
Michael. Half the internet noticed.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
Yeah… okay. Maybe I was.
Your stomach did an annoying little flip again.
—
Your actual first date happened quietly.
No paparazzi.
No red carpet.
Just a tucked-away Japanese restaurant in Los Angeles Michael swore nobody would bother you at.
He was already there when you arrived.
Black hoodie.
Gold chain.
Baseball cap low over his eyes.
Still unfairly attractive.
“You late,” he said the second you sat down.
“You got here twenty minutes early. That doesn’t count.”
“That’s called preparation.”
“That’s called anxious.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You invited me.”
“And I regret it.”
You laughed, settling into the booth.
God, this felt dangerously natural already.
The waitress came over, clearly recognizing him immediately but trying to stay professional.
Michael ordered first, then looked at you.
“You trust me to pick dessert?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How bad your taste is.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You really came here to bully me.”
“You like it.”
His grin gave him away instantly.
The date stretched longer than either of you planned.
Dinner turned into walking through the city afterward because neither of you wanted to go home yet.
The night air was cool, streets glowing with neon and traffic lights while people occasionally recognized Michael in passing.
Most left him alone.
A few asked for pictures.
You noticed how patient he was every single time.
At one point while crossing the street, his hand brushed yours.
Then stayed there.
Not fully holding your hand yet.
Just touching.
Testing.
You looked down briefly before looking back at him.
Michael glanced at you carefully. “You cool with this?”
Your lips twitched.
“You asking permission?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s new for Hollywood men.”
“Nah,” he said quietly. “Just for stuff I care about.”
And there it was again.
That softness.
That sincerity he tried to hide under jokes and confidence.
You let your fingers slide fully between his.
His expression changed instantly.
Subtle.
But real.
Like something settled inside him.
“There you go smiling again,” you teased.
“I can’t help it.”
“You absolutely can.”
“Nah.” He looked over at you while still walking. “Think I’m cooked actually.”
You laughed so hard you had to look away.
And somewhere across the street, somebody definitely took a blurry picture of the two of you holding hands beneath the city lights.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the fic if you want a part two just let me know. PEACE & LOVE 🧡
Did anyone else notice last night during the bed time story thst he slipped into some of this accent? Or are we all just still hung up on that, the puppies & the movie? I know I am.
Synopsis:-A routine debrief with Agent Whiskey turns into sharp banter and escalating tension when a disagreement over mission tactics becomes something far more personal.
Word Count:- 650
Warnings:- Flirtatious conflict, enemies-to-lovers vibes, workplace tension, suggestive dialogue, kissing, sexual tension, dominant/confident behaviour, cocky male lead, innuendo, emotionally charged confrontation, close physical contact, power-play undertones, spy/action setting references, and Star Wars references throughout.
Thanks for the read everyone. See you all tomorrow.
“You improvised.” You don’t even look up from the file as you say it. Across the table, Jack leans back in his chair like the word doesn’t apply to him at all.
“I adapted,” he corrects.
“That’s not what the report says.”
“Well, the report wasn’t there.”
You finally glance up. He’s watching you already. Of course he is. Hat tipped back slightly, sleeves rolled, that easy confidence sitting on him like it’s permanent.
“You went off-plan,” you say.
“I solved the problem.”
“You escalated the problem.”
“I handled it.”
You close the file with a quiet snap.
“That’s not the same thing.”
He leans forward now, elbows on the table, interest sharpening.
“Funny,” he says, “because everyone’s still breathing. Mostly.” You don’t react to that.
“You shot first.”
“Damn right I did.” You pause.
Then tilt your head.
“…that’s not how that goes.”
He blinks once. Slow.
“Excuse me?” You fold your arms, settling back slightly.
“That’s a whole debate. & you’re wrong.”
He takes a moment before he smiles. Not polite. Not subtle. Interested.
“I’m never wrong.”
“You are right now.”
His chair scrapes quietly against the floor as he shifts closer, not quite standing, not quite staying where he was either.
“Careful,” he says, voice dropping just slightly. “You’re treading into dangerous territory.”
“You mean disagreeing with you?” you reply. “I think I’ll survive.”
“That confidence,” he murmurs, studying you now, “is either admirable… or a bad decision.”
You don’t move.
“Good thing I make my own decisions.” That lands. His eyes flick over your face, slower this time. Measuring. Contemplating.
“This would be a whole lot easier,” he says, almost thoughtful now, “if you were Princess Leia.”
You blink.
“…what?” This has come completely out of blue.He gestures vaguely between the two of you.
“You know. Less arguing. More…”
“No,” you cut in immediately. “Absolutely not.”
He grins.
“Worth a shot.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“& yet,” he says, pushing up from the chair now, closing the distance properly, “you’re still standing there.”
You should step back. You don’t.
“You’re impossible,” you say instead.
“Been called worse.”
He stops just close enough that you can feel the shift in the air. That moment where this stops being a debrief & starts being something else entirely.
His gaze drops briefly, your hands, your shoulders, then back to your face.
“You’re trembling,” he says. You scoff, too quick.
“I’m not.”
His eyebrow lifts. He’s Smug & arrogant.
“Sure.”
Heat creeps up your neck. You hate that he noticed.
“You always get like this,” he continues, voice lower now, quieter, “when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t?” Your breath catches, just slightly.
“Or is it just me?” he adds.
You meet his gaze properly now. Steady. Unimpressed.
“…don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he says, softer still. “I don’t need to.”
That lands somewhere you weren’t expecting. Too close & direct.
“You’re insufferable,” you say. “I like nice men…”
“& yet…”
You don’t let him finish. You grab the front of his shirt & pull him in.
The kiss hits fast. Sharp.
Like you’ve both been standing on the edge of it for longer than either of you want to admit. A little frenzied, all mouth & tongue in a mad rush at the beginning.
He stills for half a second,just enough to register it. Then he’s there.
Hand coming up to steady you at your waist, pulling you closer like he’s not about to let you second guess it.
It’s not soft & certainly not careful. It’s heat, a challenge & something dangerously close to a victory smirk pressed into it.
When you pull back, it’s only just. Barely any space between you. His eyes are darker now. Satisfied. Both panting.
“Told you,” he murmurs, voice low against your lips, “this would be easier.”
