I loved these beautiful posts from the Family Switch movie about the Wariana ship of Wyatt Walker and Ariana together, especially because I love that there are four pictures of Wyatt and Ariana, but also because I love how in the first picture we see Ariana in the hallway of her school, but at the same time, and above all because I also love how we see Wyatt is at home, but at the same time, and especially because I also love how in the third image we see Wyatt (his dad Bill when he switched bodies) with Ariana during the scene of Wyatt's bullying party, but at the same time, and especially because I also would have loved to see Wyatt and Ariana kissing in the fourth image at the end of the movie, but also because I also would have loved to see them together for much longer and to see them having more romantic moments, and to see Wyatt helping Ariana with her homework, helping her with things she didn't understand (when in reality she understood everything but wanted to spend time with the boy she liked), but at the same time, and especially because I too would have loved to see them kissing under the mistletoe, and to have seen them making snow angels together, and to have seen them looking at the stars together but at the same time also because I also loved these beautiful publications because she was my best friend @moonlightchild-888 also likes the interracial boat of the 2 together in every possible way
By the way, these beautiful publications of theirs is not mine and the credits are not for me but I warn you that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator of this beautiful masterpiece on Tumblr
Tumblr. Pure effervescent enrichment. Old internet energy. Home of the Reblogs. All the art you never knew you needed. All the fandoms you c
I also did it for: @moonlightchild-888 and @true-justice And especially because my best friend @moonlightchild-888 also likes Ariana and Wyatt’s ship interracial together from Family Switch
I loved this beautiful fan art of the Family Switch movie, specifically the Wariana ship of Wyatt Walker and Ariana together. I especially love that it shows Wyatt and Ariana kissing, but also that they're kissing in one of their rooms at the same time. I also love the beautiful and romantic couple they make in the Family Switch Christmas movie. I would have loved to see them have many more romantic scenes, and I also would have loved to see Ariana find out that Wyatt and his dad had changed bodies between the 2 of them but at the same time too and especially because in addition to that I would also have loved to see that we would have seen Ariana and Wyatt being in the library together or that we would have also painted them together but also because I love imagining the idea that we would have seen Wyatt buying him a teddy bear and that we would have also seen him buying his beloved girlfriend a beautiful and romantic Christmas gift but at the same time also because I also loved this beautiful Fanart because she was my best friend @moonlightchild-888 also likes the interracial boat of the 2oonlight together in every possible way
By the way, this beautiful Fanart of theirs is not mine and the credits are not for me but I warn you that right here I am going to leave you the link of the true creator of this beautiful masterpiece on Tumblr
Tumblr. Pure effervescent enrichment. Old internet energy. Home of the Reblogs. All the art you never knew you needed. All the fandoms you c
I also did it for: @moonlightchild-888 and @true-justice And especially because my best friend @moonlightchild-888 also likes Ariana and Wyatt’s ship interracial together from Family Switch
Bleed American - Wyatt Walker ("Ida Red" 2021) x Fem OC
* Part 3 : Sugar * (final chapter)
A/N : I don't know...it's the final chapter, that's it. Pretty sure I'm literally the only person who has uploaded Wyatt Walker fics to the internet (at least to A03). Also, I feel a pattern has emerged of me writing self indulgent fics with very self-insert OC's who are rescued from their unfulfilling lives by beautiful, affectionate men. Ya girl is depressed as hell. (my gif)
Warnings for : very brief consensual sexual content, and some angst with a happy/hopeful ending
CHAPTER 1 : SALT CHAPTER 2 : SWEAT
HARTNETT MASTERLIST
(( word count ~ 2,900 ))
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It had been nearly four months since Lex and Wyatt had met, that first uncomfortable to confusing night. It had been about three since their first night together in her cheap motel room, and a pattern had developed. Every week or two, Wyatt would happen to show up to one of her local shows – local to her or himself – and they would go through the brief awkward stage of “How've you been?” and “What are you doin', tonight?”. Without fail, they always managed to end up in bed together, always parting with long embraces the next morning, and the conversation would pick up for a few days right after, and then fade again. And every time the conversation would dry up, it was Lex who would cease to respond in a timely manner, Wyatt questioning what held her back, over and over again. He had his theories, the competing top two being his criminal history, and the distance. Mentions of his unlawfulness were rarely hinted at, and never openly discussed, but as time went on, he began to suspect she'd read up on his exploits.
His suspicions, however, leaned heavier on the side of the distance between them, more than any other plausible reason. It had been as recent as the last time she'd played a show in his area, that he had brought up the distance, and he'd ended up snapping, not at her, rather at the situation, though she had felt attacked nonetheless. At the mention of her band experiencing two different line-up changes in the last three times he'd seen her, he'd suggested she could always leave as well. “You change guitarists more often than you change the oil in your car...which isn't nearly enough, by the-”
"Wyatt, I didn't come here for an automotive lecture-"
“Then why did you come?” he'd snapped, Lex standing in the middle of his living room while he hunched over on the couch, staring at him, mouth slightly ajar before she pursed her lips tight, her head shaking a subtle, silent 'no' as she started to take steps backward. “Lex, I...fuck, I didn't mean to say it like that, I just...Alexandria,” he huffed as she made steps toward the door, Wyatt nearly reaching out to catch her arm, his hand freezing in midair. Taking a deep breath instead, and letting it out, he calmly followed her out the front entrance. She was halfway down the drive before he spoke up again, and she paused in her footsteps, glancing back over her shoulder. Wyatt was relieved to see her feet come to a stop, hesitant to let his own take him a step further. “Lex...I ain't tryin' to attack you, or nothin', I just...”
“I know-”
“No, I'm not sure you do,” he cut her off, and before she could utter another word, he reached toward her and dragged her body into his arms, his cheek against her teal hair. Her hands gripped lightly at the bottom of his button-down as he continued. “Whenever you're here with me, or I'm somewhere else with you, it's great, it's amazin', it's...I feel like I never want you to go...and when we go our separate ways, it's like...it's like you disappear. And I don't know what I'm doin' wrong, or-”
“You're not, you're...it's not you-”
“Then what is it? What do I gotta do to...” his words fell away as she clung to his shirt, gripping tight the woven fabric as his arms became more lax around her, and at the same time drawing her more flush to him as he felt his shirt grow damp where she hid her face against his chest.
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“I think your boyfriend's here,” Lex heard her bandmate whisper as he leaned in to grab a water bottle where Lex crouched, behind the curtain of the stage.
“He's not my boyf-” she began to mutter back, immediately cut off by the group's current lead guitarist.
“Does he know that?” he asked, before disappearing back through the curtain.
Nearly three weeks had passed since the last time they'd seen each other, frustrated and holding each other in the middle of his driveway, and just over a week since they'd spoken. Dozens of times, both of them had started to type out a message, but neither had committed to sending them through, and so silence had defined their relationship for nearly eight days. And Wyatt was at the end of his tether of self control, of keeping his distance. And when Lex peered out beyond the curtain, she found him with his back to her, leaning against the stage. Waiting.
“I just wanna talk,” Wyatt spoke, his face still turned away from her, before she could disappear behind the walls of heavy fabric again. “It doesn't have to be at wherever you're stayin'-”
“I didn't get a room,” Lex cut in, and the Tulsa local glanced back over his shoulder at her, seeing her face in person for the first time in what felt like months. “I'm going home toni-”
“Alexandria, please,” he uttered, his whole body turning to face the stage as she crouched down between the twin curtains. “Don't run off and leave me, again,” he implored, brushing his chestnut hair back and dropping the sunglasses he'd worn into his shirt pocket. His hand reached out for hers just as she heard her name being called from the hidden side of the curtain. “Please,” Wyatt pressed, stroking her knuckles as her fingers curled reflexively around his.
“Wyatt, I've gotta-”
“Let me take you out to dinner, or somethin',” he insisted, and her gaze drifted from the small crowd beyond them, to the man clutching her hand like she'd vanish before his eyes, should he let go.
“I...okay, dinner, but that's-”
“I'll wait for you,” Wyatt cut in as the curtain began to shift around her, the rest of her band making their last adjustments before the huge pieces of fabric were split apart.
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“Well, this feels familiar,” Wyatt mumbled as he stepped through the back door beyond the stage of the band's venue for the night, the sprinkling that had just started when he'd walked in the front door that night long transformed into pouring rain, accompanied by the cracking of thunder in the distance, the booming noises becoming more frequent by the minute.
“Yeah,” Lex mumbled as she stepped out behind him, the two of them only just covered by the overhang of the roof above.
“You still gonna let me take you to dinner?” he queried as he looked behind himself, grasping her hand as she slipped it into his, breathing in the scent of his deodorant and body wash, a combination of citrus and something botanical.
“Why don't we just get something and take it home,” Lex mumbled and Wyatt began to fish around in his pockets for his keys. “To your home...obviously,” she corrected when she noticed him pause briefly in his movements.
“Obviously,” Wyatt repeated, taking in a breath as he loosed her hand from his, bringing the back of it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to it, before hopping off the concrete stairs and darting through the parking lot to pull his truck around. By the time he circled back in the dry comfort of his Chevy, she'd stepped inside and back out again, testing the lock on her car with her key remote from a distance, and climbing up into the passenger seat of the pickup when Wyatt pushed the door open from inside.
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The ride to the take-out restaurant, and on to his house, stayed mostly quiet, neither quite ready to open up and speak their minds, as if each were waiting on the other to break the silence. Only the sounds of rain, thunder, and lighter than usual traffic met their ears on the way to his front door, after they'd collected their food. To neither one's surprise, it was Wyatt who spoke up first.
“So, are we gonna talk about this?” he finally asked as he sat down on the lone upholstered chair, by the corner of the sofa where Lex sat with her bare feet up and legs crossed beneath her. “I know you can't be that mad at me-”
“I'm not,” she breathed out as she leaned forward, staring at an invisible spot on the floor. “I'm not mad at you. It's not...I'm not mad,” Lex finally mumbled, and Wyatt let out a groan as he stretched his legs out, his shoes on the ottoman before him.
“Well, you ain't happy,” he noted, and she shrugged slightly. “Sweetheart, I don't know what I did, or-”
“You didn't,” Lex interrupted, lying her head against the ancient stuffing of the couch cushions, watching Wyatt as he climbed out of his chair to sit at the closest end of his couch, opposite his guest.
“So tell me what's going on, up in that over-thinkin' brain of yours, then,” Wyatt prodded, reaching a hand out to give her knee a gentle squeeze before relaxing his back against the upholstered corner. “ 'Cause we seem to have a nice time, every time you're here, and then you leave and I don't know what happens, but you...you go all quiet and cold on me.” When she parted her lips to speak, and closed them again without a word, Wyatt spoke up again, “Is it my record?”
Not even feigning surprise, Lex glanced back up at him, shifting in her chosen spot and leaning her temple against the worn, woven fabric. “No, it's not that,” she confirmed.
“I mean, I don't know how much you know, but-”
“I know about as much as your criminal background check turned up,” she clarified, and he nodded slightly. “Now, if you had a record like Dallas, that would absolutely be part of the problem-”
“So, there is a problem,” Wyatt suggested, and the young woman on his couch glanced his way again before she shifted her gaze elsewhere.
“I just...There's almost a hundred miles between us, and-”
“There ain't but five feet between...us,” Wyatt began to retort, staring on at her figure, shrouded in shadow as the power flicked off and on for a few seconds.
“You know what I...,” she began, but a sigh finally escaped her instead as the power flickered again, the lights around them and the air conditioner going dark, and quiet, and not resuming their function. Just like half the houses on the street, Wyatt noticed, as he leaned toward the wall, and glanced out the window. “Great,” Lex mumbled.
After a few more seconds of silence, Wyatt took in an audible breath, and pushed it out again. He reached out to grasp Lex's hand, manipulating her body as he drew her closer, not ceasing in his silent direction until he'd successfully pulled her between his parted thighs, with her back to his chest on his side of the couch. “Maybe not being able to look at me will help,” he mumbled as he encircled her with his arms. “Now that there ain't but an inch between us...Let's here it, baby doll.”
“...I just...” she began, shifting her body in his embrace so her shoulder and temple lay against his chest, her knees bent and raised closer to her torso, as if she were trying to make herself even smaller than she normally was. “I've done the whole-long distance thing before, and-”
“It ain't that long a-”
“Do you want me to talk, or not?” she huffed, and Wyatt pursed his lips, placing the palm of his hand against the damp denim of her jean-clad thigh. “I've tried the long distance relationship thing before, multiple times, and it never...it always...I just don't wanna get invested in something that I know is gonna...fall apart,” she finally managed, her voice becoming less stable as she spoke, the breath she took in at the end deep and shuddering.
“It doesn't have to fall apart, if we don't let it,” Wyatt finally answered when he was sure she'd reached the end of her explanation. “And if it's the distance that bothers you so much...maybe we should do somethin' about it,” he suggested.
“Like what?” Lex mumbled against his shirt, content to lie in the embrace of his arms as he cradled her body to his.
“Like...you movin' up here,” he offered, and Lex released a noisy sigh as she glanced up at him.
“I can't just move up here,” she stated, not as firmly as she intended, and Wyatt placed his chin against her crown as his hand swept gently, back and forth, over her outer thigh.
“What's keepin' you there,” Wyatt asked, and a few thoughtful seconds passed before Lex parted her lips to speak.
“I've got my job-”
“That you hate,” Wyatt interrupted, and she let out a sigh as she glanced up at him, again. “Well, you do. You've made that real clear. What else?”
“My...well, my band, obviously-”
“Completely made up of different people, except for yourself, than it was the night we met...You really think there ain't any local bands around here in need of a drummer, or a bassist?”
“I guess...but I can't just up and move without a new job lined up, or-”
“Darlin', I know it don't exactly show, just lookin' around, but...I promise you, I live way below my means...there's a lot of money that ain't never been recovered from my...well, my run-ins with the law,” he explained, as vague as he could manage. “We can find you a little place, or you can move in here with me...can't imagine you're gonna run up my bills more than I can handle.”
“So that's your plan for me? Turn me into some kinda..'kept woman',” she queried, though Wyatt was relieved to here a bit of warmth return to her voice.
“Long as you're my woman, you can do as you please,” he insisted, lifting his free hand to brush strands of teal out of her face. When she parted her lips to speak, but ended up softly frowning instead, he spoke up again, “You don't gotta decide tonight...just promise me you'll think on it.”
“...Okay,” she finally mumbled, turning her face back to his chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as she lie against him. His own eyes fell closed as a more comfortable silence emerged around them, the storms outside raging, Lex seeming to practically dissolve against the heat of Wyatt's body.
“I also think you oughta stay the night,” the man breathed, barely audible, receiving his answer in the nod of affirmation against his damp shirt, Lex letting out the tiniest noise of agreement.
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The lights, and everything else electronic, were still out of commission by the time Wyatt stirred from his nap on the sofa, a glance at his watch confirming he'd only been out a few hours. It took a moment to recall what he was doing on the couch in the first place, and with the briefest moment of panic, he sat up from his position of leisure to find himself alone in the living room, a small breath of relief leaving him when he heard the water faucet activate from down the hall, in the bathroom. A few moments later, a familiar figure stepped out into the shadow of the hallway.
“Thought you up and left me,” Wyatt croaked in his sleep-hoarse voice as Lex shuffled into the living room, and stepped around the table to claim one of his hands.
“You drove,” she reminded as she ushered him off the couch, and stepped behind him to guide him to the bedroom they hadn't quite made it to.
“Don't mean you couldn't of called an-”
“Wyatt...hush,” she mumbled, her voice just as scratchy as his own, as her hands dropped away from his waist, the sounds of light-weigh pieces of something falling to the floor behind him.
“What are you-mmph,” Wyatt began, his voice falling away as she turned him around by the sleeve of his button-down and dragged him down for a kiss, most of her clothes in half-dry piles on the floor.
“I realize it's probably instinct for you to not trust people...but if I'm gonna stay here, you're gonna have to start trusting me,” Lex explained, her hands at his shirt buttons as his own hands flew down to his belt and the fly of his jeans.
“If you stay,” Wyatt repeated, his hands grasping at her waist as she walked him backwards to the edge of the bed, and followed him on top of it, his jeans at his ankles and his boxer-briefs half-way down his thighs as her naked body straddled him.
“You didn't change your mind, did you?” she murmured as her hand drifted down to his cock, not quite ready for her, but on the precipice, as so she was for him.
“I...mmphh...absolutely not,” Wyatt sighed, his hips bucking lightly against the air as she slid the underside of his cock along the saliva-slick folds of her nethers. “Stay with me,” he softly pleaded as she worked his length in her careful grip, his own hands seeking out her jaw as he drew her closer, aching even more for her kiss than the warm embrace of her sex. “Just stay.”
Bleed American - Wyatt Walker ("Ida Red" 2021) x Fem OC
* Part 2 : Sweat *
(( NSFW ))
A/N : Even though Chapter 1 of this story was not the first Josh Hartnett character fic I posted, it actually was the very first one I started writing for his characters. It's nice to come back to his story. It's sad to know it's going to disappear into the void like the last 5 fics/chapters I posted. It's...possibly a little ooc for Wyatt, but who's to say, since we don't show see him with anything close to even a 'like' interest during the entire film. Who's to fucking say? (my gif)
Warnings for : semi-dubious consent sexual content and mentions of THC Edibles and Alcohol consumption
CHAPTER 1 : SALT JOSH HARTNETT MASTERLIST
(( word count ~ 7,900 ))
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“All are welcome here except racists, sexists, homophobes...and assholes,” Wyatt quietly read aloud the big, bold sign beside the entrance of the Mercury Lounge, a local dive bar that happened to double as a live music venue, featuring one of the tiniest stages he'd ever seen. Between the sign and entryway stood a propped up piece of chalkboard featuring scribbled names of drinks and their prices, and the name of the band performing that night – a band with whom he was familiar with due to one of its members. And she hadn't even told him about it. That, alone, frustrated him.
It had been almost a month since that first fateful night in a completely different bar, that night which had gone from bad to worse, and somehow ended amazingly. Sure, he hadn't actually gotten to do all he wanted to do that night, but considering he had expected less than nothing, and ended up with her phone number, well...he couldn't have asked for much more. Since that night, they had maintained a mostly casual correspondence, texting almost every day, occasionally calling. The phone calls always seemed to devolve into the less than casual, eventually, so they had been fewer than he'd like. The little surprise texts he'd become accustomed to, however, were a welcome change to his circumstances. Throughout all their conversations, though, she had not mentioned once that she was performing in Tulsa, not even ten minutes from his shop. If it weren't for his little sister, Darla, stalking the band's social media, he might not have found out at all.
“-not alone 'cause the TV's on, yeah...” Somewhat off-key singing filled the bar as Wyatt stepped inside, stopped immediately by an employee with a rubber stamp, and a cash box. “I'm not crazy 'cause I take the right pills...every day...” Digging out his wallet, Wyatt traded a ten dollar bill for a star-shaped stamp of ink on the back of his hand, and stepped inside the musically inclined building. “Clean your conscience...Clear your thoughts,” the frontman sang into his microphone at the opposite end of the structure – face, voice and song all unfamiliar. Neither the guitarist at one side, nor the bassist on the other, looked anything like the woman he'd met, several weeks ago, and he had to step closer to the bar to see through to the very back of the stage, and the young woman with a head of indigo blue hair, rhythmically beating a drum kit. “...Salt, Sweat...Sugar on the asphalt...” the singer continued, the familiar face in the back gazing to the assembly of percussion before her. Keeping his back to the stage as he ordered a bottle of beer, Wyatt stayed as out of sight as he could manage until the music ceased.
“Can I have your autograph?” Wyatt asked in jest as he neared the drummer, the room filled only with sound in the form of talking and clinking glass, the band on a brief break before the second half of their set.
“I thought that was you,” Lex admitted as she turned around, a towel in her hand, and sweat all over her face and upper chest that she proceeded to wipe away. “Are you stalking me?” she asked, unserious, gazing down from her crouched position on the stage to the man who had only a month ago been a stranger.
“No, but...Darla might be, a little,” he explained, and she looked up thoughtfully and nodded. “Maybe I should be, though,” Wyatt continued, almost too quiet to hear among the noisy conversations of the bar. “How come you didn't tell me you were comin' t' town?”
“I...was gonna call you after we finished up,” Lex answered as she glanced around the bar beyond him, and to the clock that told her she had only a few minutes more to speak.
“What, you don't want me watchin' you perform?” he asked, glancing down to the other side of the stage as Lex's current bandmates began to filter back onto it.
“Not really,” Lex asserted, glancing up to the clock again. “We've only got, like...five more songs-”
“I ain't goin' nowhere,” Wyatt uttered, his tone reassuring, and she let out a sigh as she glanced away from him, just to be drawn back when he reached up to her and placed his large hand at the back of her head, drawing her a few inches closer for a kiss that the whole band 'Ooohed' at.
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“Thought you said you played bass,” Wyatt spoke louder than normal to be heard over the crowd of event attendees, pre-recorded music pumping through the speakers as the band packed up their equipment.
“I said I usually play bass,” Lex corrected as she worked, placing a heavy electronic piece in his arms to carry as she finished up, and finally leading him out the back to load it into the band's van. “I play drums when I can...it's not as rough on my hands.” The conversation went dry until everything was packed up and in its proper, mobile place again. “What are you up to, tonight?” Lex finally ventured as the rest of her bandmates retreated back into the bar to take advantage of their discounted drinks, leaving the drummer and her 'groupie' as they called him, alone in the rear parking area.
“I, uh...I actually have plans tonight,” Wyatt admitted, and his heart sank a bit as he watched the glow in the drummer's features fade a touch.
“Oh,” was all she managed as she diverted her gaze to the scenery around her, Wyatt taking in a breath as he watched her.
“It's not a date, or nothin' like that,” he quickly clarified, Lex glancing his way for a moment before they shifted to a sudden noise beyond the open back door of the bar, behind them. “I promised Dallas I'd help him with a...well, somethin' he's gotta do,” Wyatt explained, vaguely. “If I'd known in advance, I mighta been able to-”
“It's okay,” Lex mumbled, putting on an unconvincing smile as she finally looked back up at him, shrugging slightly.
“I ain't gotta leave for a little bit, though...” Wyatt clarified, reaching his hand out for Lex's, slightly rough from the utilization of her drum sticks. “I was hopin' I might spend some time with you, if you haven't got plans already.”
Gazing down to the large hand that dwarfed her own, Lex gave it a soft squeeze as she glanced back up to Wyatt's hopeful features, and the olive green lenses of his glasses. “I don't have any plans,” she mumbled as he stroked at the softer parts of her hand with the pad of his thumb.
“Well, let's get the hell outta here, then.”
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“What happened to the purple?” Wyatt queried as he sat with his knees spread wide, on the rounded edge of the sidewalk that had become their impromptu picnic area. Unbeknownst to Lex, Wyatt had already missed a call from Dallas, complaining about his tardiness, but he was uninterested in missing a single minute of the sparse amount of time they had to enjoy each other's company. There certainly wouldn't be time enough to enjoy each other in other ways, so he had to make due – even if it ended in a scolding.
“Oh, there's definitely still purple in there,” Lex assured, grasping some of the long strands from her ponytail and drawing them into view. “It was pink before, and I decided to go blue when I ran out of purple dye, but...I didn't fade it enough and it came out kinda indigo,” she explained, realizing as soon as her words ceased that she was probably boring him.
“Are you going green next?” Wyatt questioned aloud, to Lex's surprise, and she looked away from the chicken strips in the paper basket in her hands – untasted and still too hot to eat – to the man beside her.
“I...dunno,” she admitted, Wyatt reaching his undirtied hand out to stroke gently at her cheek, her jaw. “How would you feel about that?” she asked.
“Well, I don't see how my opinion matters either way,” he immediately affirmed, and she appreciated his words more than she expected. “But I like green just fine,” he continued, his umber brown eyes staring into the forest green of her own.
“That's good to know,” Lex mumbled, wishing she'd waited to order the greasy fried food in her grasp.
“I haven't changed mine at all in a while. Maybe I should-”
“No, I like it,” Lex mumbled, reaching a hand out briefly, but drawing it back as she noticed the sheen of oil from the fried food on her fingertips, glancing back up to Wyatt's kind facade. “I think I should've ordered something a little cleaner,” she mumbled, but Wyatt shook his head slightly as he reached the brief distance between them, gently grasping her jaw as he placed a soft kiss against her lips.
“You order up anything you want, sweetheart. I'll just have to do the touchin' for both of us,” he mumbled, placing his free hand on her knee and grasping it, as his other hand swept around into her indigo hair to encourage her closer, his kiss more intense as she moaned softly into his mouth, the container of her food almost slipping out of her hand.
“Wyatt...” she finally whispered as the insistence of his lips faded into something more tender, his forehead resting against hers as Tulsa natives strode by the two of them, down the concrete trail beyond them.
“Hmm?” he murmured as his lips ghosted along her jaw, his large hand at her knee slowly proceeding up her leg.
“As much as I appreciate...whatever this is,” Lex managed, slightly shrinking away from his hand, “didn't you say you had somewhere to be?”
Wyatt's hands paused in their movements as he let out a sigh, glancing away from the drummer at his side to seek out his phone from his pocket. “Shit...” he grumbled as he stared down at the multiple texts and missed calls on the screen. “I'm gonna be hearin' 'bout this, all night,” he sighed, pressing his phone back into the pocket he'd extracted it from.
“Gotta go?” Lex mumbled as she sat her container of food down on the cement, hoping the ants didn't immediately target it. Wyatt raised his brows and nodded, standing up and stretching slightly before he reached a hand out to her.
“Yeah, I gotta,” he conceded, glancing to her deep green eyes as he tugged out his own olive-lensed sunglasses, and slipped them into place. “I wouldn't mind bein' a little later, though, if you need a ride back to your motel,” Wyatt hedged.
“Now, there's a good idea,” Lex mumbled as she stood beside him, dusting herself off after she reached back down for her food.
“What was that?” Wyatt requested to hear again what he had not missed the first time around, and she glanced his way, and elsewhere again as she let out a sigh.
“You sure you're not just trying to get me alone?” Lex stated a bit louder, accepting his hand when he offered it, as the two of them began to make the trek back to the venue.
“Are you questioning my intentions?” Wyatt quipped, feigning offense as he walked alongside her, holding her smaller hand in his larger one.
“It wouldn't be the first time you took me to a secluded location, just the two of us, and...we both know how things went down last time,” Lex astutely pointed out, and Wyatt let out a groan.
“As I recall, they didn't go down,” Wyatt pointed out, glancing to the young woman at his side as the venue came into sight. “And not for lack of tryin'-”
“I remember,” Lex admitted, letting herself be drawn nearer to the man at her side when he tugged her closer, and wrapped his arm around her, his palm against the side of her slender waist. “I also remember you stopping when I asked you to,” she acknowledged as they reached the parking lot of the venue, shoes crunching tiny pebbles as the sounds of the dive bar finally reached their ears.
“So what are you nervous about, then?” Wyatt questioned as he directed her not toward his truck, but the backdoor of the venue, instead.
“I wouldn't go as far as nervous,” Lex answered as they reached the closed, but unlocked, back door that separated them from the tiny stage inside. “I just...” her voice faded as she considered him.
“You just what, darlin'?” Wyatt asked as he leaned against the wall of the building, tugging her closer with the hand of hers that he still held.
“I...can't decide if it's gonna be harder to say goodbye now, or...in the privacy of my room,” she admitted, casting her gaze elsewhere. “You're not the only one who wants to get laid.”
Wyatt's brows raised in surprise at her words, caught slightly off guard from her confession, flattered. “That so?” he quipped, and she rolled her eyes and glanced back at him.
“Among other reasons...I think, mostly, I just don't wanna say goodbye. I was hoping we could spend more time together than this, after a month of just talking, but...I guess that's my fault for-”
“Alexandria,” Wyatt spoke up, taking in and letting out an audible breath. “Not that I think you've got anything to be embarrassed about,” he began, tugged her closer with the hand that still held on to hers, “but I understand. It ain't like I don't got aspects of my life that I...that I'm not itching for you to know about.” Wyatt did not miss the shift in her gaze in silent answer to his words, but he did not acknowledge it aloud, either. “I'm pretty sure Dallas and I are gonna be workin' til pretty late, but I'll also be at the shop in the mornin'...maybe I can stop by your motel, or you can pop by my office before you have to go.”
🎶 🎵 🎶
“This is...,” Wyatt began, searching for a positive as he looked around Lex's very simple, aged motel room.
“It's cheap, is what it is,” Lex clarified, glancing around the unremarkable space, and dropping what she'd carried with her from the venue, onto the bed.
“And yet, my couch is completely free,” he pointed out, and received a dramatic sigh in return.
“Okay, you win! Next time I'm gonna be in the area, I'll say something in advance,” she huffed, stepping into the tiny bathroom to wash her hands as Wyatt plopped down on an empty area of the bed, surprised at the quality of the bedspread, in contrast to the rest of the room.
“I hope so,” he answered quietly, running his hands over the fabric below him. “Did you pay a little extra for better linens, or something?”
“Hmm?” she asked wordlessly, stepping out of the restroom again, hands degreased and ready to touch whatever she pleased. “Oh, no, those are mine. I bring my own bedding from home. I prefer knowing who's slept, and done whatever else, on the sheets I'm sandwiched between.” Lex watched as Wyatt nodded along, thoughtful, and proceeded to lie back against the cloth-covered surface. Closing his eyes, he relaxed against the cushioned surface, and Lex stepped up beside him, carefully curling her finger around one of his belt loops. “I thought you had to go,” she whispered, Wyatt letting out a breath as he finally looked back up at her.
“I do,” he admitted, reaching for her hand, and stroking her knuckles lightly when he grasped it in his own. “But, I don't want to,” Wyatt continued.
“I know,” Lex whispered, sitting down on the bed beside his waist, and leaning nearer when he motioned her closer with his unoccupied hand. “Wyatt, I don't wanna get you in trouble,” she breathed, Wyatt's eyes finally flitting open to take in the sight of her from his lounging position.
“I know you don't, sweetheart,” he acknowledged, his hand raising to stroke at her cheek, and glide his digits into the tied-up hair. “So, you better kiss me goodbye,” he continued, his gaze shifting from her eyes, to her lips, to the boat neck collar of her shirt, and all it revealed. Just as she began to lean closer, his mint-freshened breath against her skin, the phone in his pocket rattled and raged to life, Wyatt closing his eyes tight as he tugged it out, lips pursed in frustration as he let out a breath through his nose.
“Dallas?” Lex predicted, sitting back up, despite Wyatt's wishes.
“He says he's gonna hunt me down if I don't get my ass over there,” he sighed, shoving the phone out of sight again. “I really gotta go,” he affirmed, pushing himself up into a sitting position, Lex's body still quite close to his own. “I'll text you later, okay?” he promised, Lex leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, hesitant to do anything more. “I'm sorry about this.”
“Me, too,” Lex mumbled as she watched him gather what little he'd brought inside her room, the two slipping into an embrace that could not last long enough, and the drummer watched with a frown when Wyatt finally stepped out of sight.
🎶 🎵 🎶
Dallas was already out the door and stepping onto the porch when Wyatt rolled up to his house, hands on his hips, watching as his nephew parked and hopped out of his matte black pickup. “Glad to see you didn't break all your fingers,” the tatted up older man proclaimed as he watched the younger man approach, looking more put-upon than usual. “I know your phone ain't dead, cause I had to sit through the ringing every time I...Wyatt!”
“What?!” the younger man snapped as he walked past his uncle and stepped inside, immediately plopping down on the couch.
“What...” Dallas repeated under his breath as he stepped inside as well and closed the door. “Fuck's going on?” he asked as he stared at his nephew, his muscular arms crossed over his mesh-covered chest.
Wyatt closed his eyes as he leaned back against the aged surface of the sofa cushions, shaking his head slightly, running his hands through his chestnut hair. “Nothin',” he finally answered with a sigh.
“Doesn't look like nothin',” Dallas answered as he stepped into the kitchen, reemerging a few seconds later with a couple of bottles of beer. “Somethin' happen?” he asked, voice calmer as he placed an ice-cold bottle down on the coffee table, covered in scratches and dents and water stains. Wyatt shook his head, eyes still closed. “Somethin' almost happen?” Dallas pushed, and Wyatt let out an audible breath through his nose. “Somethin' good almost happen?” he continued, and Wyatt finally opened his eyes again, glancing to his uncle.
“We gonna do this, or what?” Wyatt answered, and Dallas' brows knit together as he observed the younger man.
“I ain't seen you this upset since that rocker girly left,” he calmly observed, and Wyatt let out another sigh, and leaned forward to snag the bottle on the table, gripping it tight as he twisted the cap off. “Why do I get the feelin' I'm keepin' you from somethin'?”
“Let's just get this done,” Wyatt ignored the older man's words again, glancing up to his standing form as he dragged off his Ray-Ban's and pocketed them. The sun that had began to set on his way to the house was nearly sunk completely beyond the horizon by the time the two men left, Dallas opting to drive as his nephew seemed to be unusually preoccupied with his phone.
🎶 🎵 🎶
< aren't you supposed to be busy > Lex typed onto her phone, Wyatt not even gone half an hour and already texting her.
< I am. I'm not driving. > Wyatt answered, gazing up to the road, and glancing his uncle's way when he felt eyes on himself. “Watch the road,” he mumbled, slipping the device into his shirt pocket.
“Am I fuckin' up your plans, or somethin'?” Dallas quipped as he brought the car to a temporary pause at a red light. “We've put off casing the place for almost a month, and the window's closin' up.”
“I'm here, ain't I?” Wyatt spoke aloud, reaching to his pocket when it began to buzz.
“Not really,” Dallas answered, turning into a side street as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and pulling over, parking the car. Before Wyatt could say a thing, Dallas snatched the phone out of his nephew's hand before he could put it away, again. “Jesus, Wyatt, you're forty one, not fourteen...,” he added, swiping on the screen Wyatt had not locked in time. “Did I guess right? This that girl from last month, at the bar?”
“...Yeah,” Wyatt mumbled, relaxing his back against the leather of his seat. “I found out last night her band was gonna be here today.”
“So she told you-”
“No, I said I found out. She didn't tell me. I guess she was plannin' on calling me after, and I messed up her plans,” he explained.
Dallas was quiet for several seconds, only speaking when the younger man glanced his way, “Is that how you got that stamp on your hand?” When Wyatt nodded his head, silent, Dallas bluntly asked, “did I cock-block you?"
"It ain't always just about that," Wyatt answered with a sigh, “But, yeah, probably...wasn't about just that, though,” he insisted, and accepted his phone's return, pocketing it once more. “I know you probably think that's my problem-”
“No, it ain't your problem,” Dallas cut in, and Wyatt glanced across to his uncle. “I know you got higher standards...and you always were a sensitive kid-”
“You're not even 14 years older than me,” Wyatt retorted, pushing his hair out of his face. Dallas was quiet for several seconds before he finally spoke up.
“We can do this another night,” the older man offered, placing his foot on the brake as he shifted the car into reverse. “I'm not gonna watch you walk around, sad and sappy, for another month, because you missed your opportunity,” he explained, as Wyatt realized he'd turned the car around, when he pulled back onto the main street.
🎶 🎵 🎶
When it had become indisputably clear that Wyatt would not be returning that night, probably caught up for the foreseeable hours in whatever he and his uncle were wrapped up in, the drummer shifted to her back-up plan – the cannabinoid gummies she had brought along on the trip. Lex could only speculate on what the two Walker men were involving themselves in for the evening, given the results of the criminal history checks she'd looked into for both men, expecting to find nothing, and instead discovering way more than she'd ever fathomed. Wyatt's record had been far less expansive and colorful than Dallas', but it, and he, were certainly not clean. Lex had opted not to mention the substances she'd brought along with her, to the man whom she'd spent less hours with than she'd hoped for, that evening. And she'd been as careful as she could manage to not give any indication of her knowledge of his shadier behaviors. Much as her findings should have thrown up so many red flags, she'd arrived in town with bubbling enthusiasm to see him, and hopefully get a second chance at a first night together.
The edibles in her system, and a stopwatch on her phone set to allow her more predictability in the initial effects, she went about setting up the room the way she liked it, introducing her go-to motel mainstays, and stripping the clothes she'd sweated in onstage to prepare for a very careful washing of her indigo-stained hair, and a relaxing shower. Almost an hour exactly from the moment she'd set the reverse timer on her phone, her hair and body still surrounded by damp towels, she heard a knock at her motel room door.
Staying silent as she searched for her phone, looking for new texts, and finding nothing indicating a return of the man who'd left her room, a few hours before, she tiptoed near the window as another knocking sound erupted from the door, and let out an audible sigh of relief at the sight of his familiar Chevy Silverado. “Wyatt?” she called through the closed door as she shuffled near it, met by his familiar voice.
“It's me,” he confirmed, reaching his hand toward the doorknob and testing it. Locked, as he'd assumed.
“Okay, hold on, I...gimme a minute,” Lex answered, her voice a little softer, and with her body and hair still damp from the shower, she started to wander around the room, gathering the pieces of clothing she'd tossed throughout, and finding only her shorts, shirt, and bra. Her legs were already a bit wobbly as she searched around, the beginning stages of her gummy experience already stirring into motion.
“Catch you at a bad time, baby doll?” he asked as he quietly slumped against the door, his own motor functions just slightly impaired from the beers, and the shot of whiskey, he'd drank down with his uncle.
“No, not...I just got out of the shower,” she answered, stepping closer to the door to speak, not wishing to disclose her delicate state to anyone other than the man on the other side. Her movements were not as smooth as she would have liked, and she had to take a moment to grab something stable as she paused in her hunt for her panties, finally giving up the search, and crossing carefully to her bag to grab her taser, just in case. Her bandmates hadn't even been keen on letting him drive off with her after their set, and she wasn't going to completely abandon her sense of self-preservation when there wasn't even a peephole to look through.
Lex's steps were slightly unsteady as she approached the door, blinking slowly, and glancing down to the electric weapon in her hand, the trigger ready to activate. With her free hand, she unlocked the door, chain still in place, and glanced through the opening to see a very familiar face. Before Wyatt could say a word, Lex closed the door in his face again, a rattling noise coming through, and the door opened again, wide and unrestrained.
“Did you forget someth-?” Lex asked immediately, and Wyatt spoke no words, simply stepped through the freshly opened door, and grasped her jaw, drawing her unsuspecting lips into his insistent kiss.
“I got released on good behavior,” Wyatt breathed, leaning away only long enough to speak, and claiming her lips with his again. He tasted like something stronger than the beer he'd drank during their impromptu dinner.
“Wyatt, hold on a...” Lex mumbled as she put the most minute amount of distance between them, but his soft lips were against her unmoisturized cheek, her jaw, her throat. The tee she wore, slightly damp from the haphazard drying job she'd done with the towel, clung uncomfortably to her skin. “W-...Wyatt,” she huffed as he tipped her chin back with his thumbs and placed open-mouthed kisses against her throat. Under different, soberer circumstances, she might have pushed her hands against his chest, and not curled her fingers around the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Even the man with his hand at her jaw, and in her damp, indigo hair, was a tad surprised at the delicate scrape of her fingernails at his skin, and drew away just enough to find her gaze.
“Miss me that much, darlin'?” Wyatt breathed as he stood up taller, brushing blue strands out of her face, and cradling her cheeks in his palms.
“You kissed me,” she mumbled as her hands drifted away from his button-down collar, to his broad shoulders, gripping him like she could lose her balance at any moment, and Wyatt noticed.
“Lex...are you alright? You seem a little, uh...” he uttered, watching as her eyes closed, almost dreamily, when his large hands lowered to her waist. If he didn't know full well it was impossible, he would have assumed her intoxicated. “You didn't pick tonight to start drinkin', did ya?”
Brows furrowed in mild confusion, Lex stared at Wyatt for a few moments in silence, before she shook her head slightly and mumbled, “No, I took an edible.”
“You took an edible?” Wyatt retorted, his surprise transparent.
“Is there an echo in the room?” Lex huffed, staring up at him. “Are you upset or someth-”
“Nah, not at all, I just...I didn't realize you, uh...partook,” he defended, stroking lightly at her sides through her damp shirt, watching as she twitched at the light touch. “Thought you were, uh...straight edge.”
“I am, mostly,” Lex admitted, her hands drifting down his biceps, surprisingly thick with muscle under the sleeves. “I only take edibles, I don't...”
“Yeah, I know you hate smoke,” Wyatt recollected. “What's that gotta do with me not being here, though,” he inquired.
“...I didn't say it had anything to-”
“Yeah, you did, you said I wasn't coming back,” he repeated again, and she nodded slowly, the inebriant in her system becoming more noticeable to them both.
“I didn't think you were...Wait, why are you here again? I don't want you getting in trouble because of-”
“No, sweetheart, you ain't gonna get me in any trouble. Dallas, uh...dismissed me,” Wyatt explained, his hands stilling as she draped her arms over his shoulders, and around his neck. “...Lex?” A 'hmm?' sounded from her throat, and he continued. “Darlin', I, uh...You're makin' it kinda hard to be...upstandin',” Wyatt breathed, as his fingers splayed apart at her waist, gripping her smaller frame as she leaned in even closer to him, their bodies flush against each other.
“So don't be,” Lex whispered, her hands gripping his shirt collar, and his hair, when he leaned nearer to place his parted lips against her throat. “I didn't think you were coming back...and I didn't have anywhere to go, so I just...”
Wyatt's mouth kissed a damp line up the side of her neck, his hot breath against her hyper-sensitive skin, making her whole body flex, “Thought you'd get a little high?” When she nodded slightly, her breath coming out through her parted lips, his hands dipped lower, palming both her cheeks, and manipulating her hips to work against his. “Is this what it does to you?” he sighed, his gaze falling to her features, calm and serene, sans the furrow of her brows.
“Mmhmm,” she sighed, and immediately took in a sharp breath when he rutted lightly against her, every little movement of her body against his helping to stir his cock to life beneath his jeans.
“You weren't thinkin' about calling someone else over, were ya?” he whispered, his gaze lifting away from the sight of her to pass quickly over the room. Though his question was mostly in jest, he did take a moment to scan for changes of the order of the room, since he'd left almost 2 hours before. Nothing stood out, nothing out of place, except for the presence of something green on the floor, just beyond the corner of the bed.
“Of course not,” she reassured, and her haze lifted slightly as she felt Wyatt's fingers at the small of her back, felt the tips of them disappear below the edge of the denim. “What are you-”
“Didja forget somethin'?” he murmured as his hands dipped further beneath the scratchy, blue fabric, grasping her ass with both hands as she ground against him, her grip on him tightening.
“I was still in a towel when you knocked...I grabbed enough to open the door,” she mumbled as Wyatt slowly extracted his hands from the tight squeeze of Lex's denim shorts, and leisurely wrapped his arms around her back.
“So, if this is what it does to you, what'd me leavin' have anything to do with it?”
“Well, I was hoping we might...pick up where we left off that first night, in your office,” Lex confessed, and Wyatt's thick, dark brows lifted a bit at he comprehended her meaning. “But you left, and I didn't think you were coming back, and...”
“I take it, it doesn't just make ya...,” he paused to consider, and choose his words very carefully, “acquiescent?”
“Ooh, good word choice,” Lex quipped, her hands slipping back around to his chest, gripping lightly the button-down shirt he wore. “No, it also makes me, uh...extra sensitive, and...”
“Horny?” Wyatt concluded with a grin, and she let out a sigh in answer.
“Well, if you wanna be crass about it...” she mumbled.
“So you decided you'd just take things into your own hands?”
“More or less,” Lex admitted.
“So let me see if I understand this right,” Wyatt articulated as he held her in his careful embrace, ready to grab her if she became a bit too unstable on her feet. “You took the edible to help yourself come, because I wasn't here to do it for you?”
“Mostly...” Lex admitted, gazing at his chest as she plucked at the highest fastened button of his shirt.
“Do you want me to make you come?” the ex-con breathed into her ear as he dipped lower, his arms pulling away from their chaste position around her waist, his hands finding her hips, tucking his thumbs into her belt loops.
“Yes, please...” Lex sighed against his throat as she leaned in closer, pressing damp kisses against his stubbled skin.
“I just...mmph, I don't want you to regret this in the mornin',” Wyatt whispered, lying his forehead against her crown and breathing in the lingering scent of conditioner from her freshly washed hair. “Damn, you smell so good,” he huffed as she plucked at more of his buttons.
“If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have let you drive me back here in the first place,” Lex pointed out, finishing with his last button and lifting her hands to press the shoulders of his structured shirt down his biceps. “Unless you don't want to,” she added as she tugged his shirt completely off, tossing it toward the chest of drawers, and missing completely.
Grasping her wrist and twirling her around, her free hand grabbing for him in an attempt to keep her balance, he held her denim-covered ass against the crotch of his jeans, cotton fabric taut and distorted from the bulge behind his zipper. “I ain't that respectable,” he rasped against her throat as he leaned over her shoulder. Similar to the previous actions of his own, the hand that had grabbed hold of Wyatt for balance pushed blindly beneath the closure of his jeans, and the clingy boxer-briefs below, grasping his quickly stiffening member in her hand, running the pad of her thumb over the tiny slit, and palming his leaking juices to wrap her hand around the head. The hand at her wrist dropped to where the other fell, gripping the loops of her jean shorts and cupping her denim-clad nethers, manipulating her with his fingers as best he could through the thick fabric. “You gonna let me finish what I started the last time you were in town?” Wyatt huffed, his warm breath brushing her oversensitive skin, the hands at the crotch of her jeans seeking out the button snap, and the zipper below.
“I never should have made you wait,” she whimpered as his parted lips pressed damp kisses along her throat, sucking at the most sensitive spots – not fully aware of how much her edible-infused system practically left the whole of her an erogenous zone.
“No, baby, don't say that...don't you ever second guess yourself over what you think I want,” Wyatt muttered against the delicate flesh of her earlobe. “And, besides...,” he continued, tugging at the sides of her opened shorts with both hands, and easing them down her thighs, “We ain't gonna stop 'til we're both satisfied, tonight.” Through their battle to get her shorts off, they'd edged closer to the bed, and as Lex gripped his thick forearms to step out of them, he scooped up her half-naked body and gently dropped her onto the bed.
Adjusting himself inside his still-zipped jeans, Wyatt glanced up to watch Lex strip the last of her clothes away, tossing them out of sight and reaching for his hand when she found him watching her. “Wyatt, please...” she whimpered, her eyelids and the rest of her body seemingly weighed down as if gravity had increased, another effect of the edible she'd ingested. Reaching blindly for his hand as he crawled atop her, her whole frame seemed to flex away from the bed as she felt his lips wrap around one of her stiff little peaks that he'd had the pleasure of tasting that first night, weeks ago.
“God damn, girl,” Wyatt groaned out as he lie his body more flush to hers, her essence slicking his chest as he shifted to lap and suck at the taut bud's twin. “Barely touched ya,” he whispered as her hands carded through his disheveled chestnut hair. “Am I just that good, or is that gummy you ate doin' the heavy lifting?”
“It's probably a little more 'the gummy',” she confessed, lightly massaging at his scalp as he shifted to the flat valley between her breasts, “but it doesn't do anything if I'm not, you know...stimulated...mentally. It's not like I haven't imagined this particular scenario, before,” she admitted.
“You sayin' I got you off before, and I wasn't even there for it?” he queried, his scruff brushing pleasantly against her naked skin.
“I guess I...I never thought about it, that way,” she murmured, her fingers in his hair curling a little tighter as his kisses began to travel south, “Wyatt...I...please...”
“Relax, baby,” Wyatt breathed against her delicate skin as his lips kissed a damp trail down her concave stomach, and along her hip, her thigh that fell farther to the side. “Is this what you like?” he rasped as he gripped her thighs and dragged them further apart, exposing her damn-near dripping pussy to the artificially chilled air. Her answer came not on her lips, but in her fingers, carding more insistently through his silky hair, and lightly rutting her hips.
“Yes...,” she whimpered, Wyatt flicking his tongue over her little bud and sucking at it as he held her insistent thighs apart.
“Didn't you say this was what you missed most?” he questioned, twitching and stroking his tongue against her needy clit, as she whimpered and sighed. “What you miss most about dating...gettin' your pussy ate out?”
“Wyatt,” she huffed his name, flushed from his attentions, and his unashamed words. “I can't believe you remember that...I thought you were...drunk,” she sighed, faintly recalling one of their many late night phone calls, the ones that so often glided into non-platonic territory.
“I could be blacked out and remember something like that,” he sighed, ghosting over her sensitive bud with his lips before letting his tongue travel all the way back to her last hole, gripping her thighs tighter when she instinctively pulled away, lapping at her puckered skin and pressing the tip of his tongue inside.
“Fingers,” she mumbled as she reached for his hair, willing him flush to her skin, her inhibitions falling further away by the moment. “Use your fingers,” Lex softly begged. When Wyatt glimpsed her way, lips curling into a grin when he drew his tongue away, and feeling her fingers in his hair again. “No, don't st-...” she whimpered, and Wyatt pressed his tongue back inside, deeper, before pulling back.
“You better get on your knees then, sweetheart,” he rasped, and without a moment's hesitation, she did just that, not even grasping for a pillow as her cheek met her sheets, Wyatt's hands at her hips as he manipulated her body into position and pressed the tip of his tongue in her tighter hole.
“Fuck me with your fingers,” she pleaded, and Wyatt swept an arm around her thigh to shove his fingers inside her unoccupied entrance.
“You gonna let me put my cock up here, too?” the man rasped, sliding his fingertips over her clit, rubbing until her thighs shook, and shoving two of his fingers insider her, stroking at her spongy walls until the rest of her shook, her face against the mattress to drown out her whimpers and sobs.
“You can...you can fuck me wherever you want...just make me cum in your mouth, first,” she begged, and her whole body trembled as Wyatt grabbed her hips to flip her, and pressed her ass back against the sheets.
“You know...” Wyatt mumbled as he pressed kisses along her inner thigh, nearing her needy center, “the more that comes out your mouth, the more I think I shouldn't be-”
Lex's hand fisted in the man's hair, tugging him just slightly away from his intended destination as she felt his breath on her skin. “I've wanted you since the night we met,” she huffed, her grip loosening as he began to dip closer to her folds, slick from his mouth and her essence, guiding two familiar digits inside, the pads of them already a bit wrinkled from her stimulation. “I only ate the-nngh...” she began, her voice shifting into a whimper as his fingers began to curl against her spongy upper wall. “Fuck...I only...mmph...I only took it 'cause I...'cause I thought I couldn't have you...” she stammered, both her hands in his mop of hair as his tongue lapped ceaselessly at her abused clit, his fingers pumping furiously.
“Darlin', if I'd known you needed me this much, I never would've left,” Wyatt mumbled against her skin before he began to suck at her again, his fingers hastening inside her as she began to rut against him more erratically. When she groped around for a pillow, and held it against her mouth as her moans escalated to cries, Wyatt's fingers only twitched faster, her damp walls flexing around his digits, his mouth working at her over-indulged skin, maintaining all contact until she began to press weakly at the crown of his head with her fingertips.
“Wyatt, please,” she whimpered, eyes half lidded as she peered down her body at him.
“Too much?” Wyatt breathed against her thigh, crawling up her seemingly spent form to return to her parted lips.
“Not enough,” she huffed, and the man drew slightly away.
“Did I not make you-”
“No, you did, you...but when I take those...when I'm like this...it just keeps going, as long as I...as long as I don't stop,” she whimpered out between breaths, Wyatt's hands working at the buckle of his belt as he began to strip the rest of his clothes away.
“So, basically...” Wyatt rasped as he hastily tossed everything that adorned his body to the threadbare carpet, “You need me to fuck you?”
“Please,” she practically begged, her hands grasping at the sheets as Wyatt slipped back onto the bed, dragging the bottoms of her thighs up the tops of his own, so her dripping sex slid against the underside of his cock. A groan escaped him as the young woman's hips humped up against him, Lex desperate to be filled by him.
“Fuck, darlin'...drug-addled or not, the way you...” he sighed, eyes screwed tight as she humped up against him at just the perfect angle, and he plunged inside, her quivering walls hugging, so deliciously, his cock. “I don't think I've ever felt so...so wanted,” he admitted, adjusting even closer as she wound her legs around his waist, desperate for the sense of fullness he provided. “I could get used to feeling like this,” Wyatt sighed, his hips pumping steadily as he fucked her needy pussy.
“I've never...I've never been with anyone else when I'm...when I'm like this,” Lex confessed as she clung to him, her whole frame bobbing from the insistence of his pumping hips.
“No, I...oh, fuck...baby doll, I mean...mmphh, I mean you and me,” Wyatt huffed out, wishing once again she'd let him know about her show ahead of time. He'd gone too long without showing himself some special attention, and she felt too god damn good, gripping him like a vice as he pumped inside her throbbing sex. In his thoroughly distracted state, he barely noticed her lack of acknowledgment to his words. He was aware only of the bouncing hips that rutted against him, of her flexing walls that swallowed him so needily, and her hands gripping his disheveled hair as her whole body began to practically convulse, mouth ajar, unfiltered moans pouring out of her as she came for him, again. “Holy shit...fuck, you weren't kidding,” Wyatt mumbled as he pumped his cock inside her, the twitching and flexing of her overstimulated walls seemingly unending. Lex could do little more than wrap her arms around him as her thighs fell apart at his sides, her hips still matching his thrusts. She finally willed her eyes open again when he began to spew profanities.
“What...what's wrong...” she breathed, holding his floppy hair away from his tensed features. He didn't look anywhere near as distressed as he sounded.
“Dallas gave me condoms...I completely forgot 'em,” he groaned, his hips refusing to still.
“It's okay...just don't-”
“I'm gonna...fuck, I'm gonna come-” Wyatt huffed, his fingers practically curling into claws where they gripped her. Before he could register her sliding away from him, Wyatt felt hands pressing against his chest, and he instinctively scrambled off of her before he could form a word, and his back fell flat against the blanket as he felt the wet cavern of Lex's mouth around the head of his cock. “Oh, sweetheart, you don't...oh...oh, fuck, don't stop...” Wyatt went through a gamut of priorities as he felt her wondrous mouth sucking at his length, all sense of chivalry dying the moment he felt the back of her throat against the head of his cock. “God damn,” he groaned, his hand fisting in her hair as she bobbed over him, gripping tighter as she moaned around him, and his hips flexed and shook as he released in the welcoming cavern of her mouth.
Lex's whole body seemed to tremble when he helped her up to her knees, his lips consuming her residual moans, their mouths full of the taste of each other that neither gave a thought to pulling away from.
'Twas the Saturday Night Before Christmas - Wyatt Walker x Fem Reader
This fic is a combined fulfillment of my 2 remaining Wyatt Walker requests from last year, for dialogue prompts "I'd kiss you if you let me" and "I'd spoil you rotten if I got the chance" (both from anons). This is a winter holiday-centered fic, and was intended to be posted about a month ago, but...my motivation has been practically non-existent, and my mental health is in the gutter. I kind of fell out of love with this fic TBH (a crappy personal Christmas probably didn't help), which is probably why it took so long to finish, but hopefully some of you will enjoy it anyway. Gif is mine, as always.
PS : Moodboard at the bottom is not meant to be ethnicity-specific. I just had a very specific item of clothing in mind and there was only one model in the photos.
(( word count ~ 4,400 ))
“I don't need help!” the young woman shouted against the noise of passing traffic, before Wyatt had even closed the driver-side door of his truck. She hadn't even looked up at him as he slowly began to step toward her, loose gravel crunching under his boots. “Seriously,” she called out, finally glancing up from her own activities, toward the stranger in the 'Hibdon Tires Plus' button-down, the blinding sun at his back. “I've got this.”
Wyatt had been traveling down a stretch of highway toward his uncle Dallas' place to plan an upcoming heist, and had driven past a car pulled over on the side of the road – a not uncommon site. It had been in his rear-view mirror as he passed, when he'd noticed a young woman on the passenger side, fiddling within the confines of the wheel well, and he had taken the next exit to circle back around. He hadn't expected to be snapped at as a result, but he continued to approach anyway.
“I've got a better jack in my truck-”
“Look, mister...I'm a big girl,” she answered as he neared close enough to touch the bumper of her car, pausing in his steps to listen to the stranger, who, contrary to her phrasing, looked rather petite in comparison to himself. “I've already done most of the work. I don't need help.” The standard tire, low on air, was indeed leaning against the car, halfway between herself and Wyatt, the spare tire bolted into place. Wyatt glanced at her hands, gripping the crank handle, grease and blood on her knuckles.
“I see you've, uh...scraped yourself up, there,” Wyatt pointed out, and she glanced down to her wounds, exhaling with an eye roll, and looking back up to him. “Wouldn't be any trouble,” he insisted, taking a step forward, and reaching a hand out. “Ain't no reason for you to hurt yourself any more than you already have,” he added, and she let out a breath from her squat position on the pavement.
“Fine,” she finally breathed out, holding out the steel rod for the stranger to take.
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“Are you always that stubborn?” Wyatt asked as he sat across from the stranger in the booth of a breakfast-centric diner, flipping through the menu, deciding between waffles and pancakes. True to her exasperated word, the work to change her flat tire had been mostly complete, but she had admittedly appreciated his assistance in the finishing touches of the task, and had agreed to join him for a meal after.
“I'm just...having a bad day, alright?” she declared, shrugging her shoulders as she gazed at the laminated pages.
“I bet,” Wyatt agreed, glancing up at her while she was distracted. If he'd caught proper sight of her the first time around, he'd have pulled over immediately. “Nothing like a popped tire to ruin your afternoon,” he continued, and she shook her head slightly.
“More like, dealing with the cost of replacing it,” she mumbled, picking up her glass to take a drink of watered-down soda. “I, uh...never mind,” she began and immediately ended, but Wyatt spoke up instantly.
“Maybe you didn't notice, but, uh...” Wyatt indicated the patch on his shirt. “I can get you a good deal-”
“I got laid off, today,” she suddenly piped up, and Wyatt's brows knit together as he sat up straighter. “My department got downsized, as of...” she glanced at her phone screen, “Fifty-seven minutes ago.”
“Wow, that's...shitty,” he admitted, unable to form a more articulate response, and she shrugged before dropping her shoulders and slumping back against the cracked, vinyl upholstery of the booth.
“It sure is,” she stated simply, staring at the handsome but ill-timed stranger across the table. “They say this shit comes in three's, so...you're not gonna dine and dash, and stick me with the bill, or something, are you?” she asked, a defeated half-smile across her lips.
“No, of course not. I, uh...I was just thinkin' that, um...” he hesitated, running his fingers through his hair, as he stared at the young woman across from him – pleasing to his eyes, and charming, despite the unfortunate circumstances they'd met under.
“I hope you're not about to ask me out,” she mumbled, glancing away from his umber eyes as their waitress came into view from across the restaurant. “No offense, but now is so incredibly not the time-”
“Well, actually, I was gonna ask how you'd feel about working at my car shop.”
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“Think ya' got enough ornaments up there?” Wyatt asked as he stepped into the lobby of his auto sales and repair shop, watching the young woman who had infiltrated his life so completely over the last several months, hanging baubles on an artificial tree.
“I think there's still space for a few more,” she retorted, glancing down from her perch on the step-stool, toward the boss she had a less-than-professional relationship with. “You're welcome to make adjustments-”
“No, I, uh...you look like you've got it under control,” he answered immediately, standing to the side to observe her efforts.
It had been almost half a year since that chance day when he'd found her changing a tire on the side of the highway, and near-instantly offered her a job before he even knew her last name. At the time, he hadn't even been certain there was enough work around the shop, outside of sales and repair, to consistently fill up a forty-hour work week, but Wyatt had quickly found he'd underestimated the value she could bring to his business. Filing, secretarial work, payroll – mostly the excess responsibilities that fell on his own shoulders, he had placed onto hers, but she had become so much more than that. Not only to himself, but to the entirety of his staff, she'd become a near-constant morale boost, to the point that work simply didn't feel right when she was out during regular operating hours. It had even been her idea to have a small Christmas party, including a 'Secret Santa' gift exchange, and with several of the men without partners or much family to speak of, no one had turned their nose up at the idea. It had, unsurprisingly, fallen on her to decorate for the event, and so she found herself putting the almost final touches on the tree, preparing for the small, upcoming party.
It certainly looked more festive than anything Wyatt had put out for the season at home, the owner realized, as he glanced around beyond the tree, to the strings of lights and garland, the paper snowflakes adhered to the windows. His exploratory gaze did not go unnoticed.
“Am I missing anything?” a feminine voice spoke up, and Wyatt directed his vision back toward the young woman within arm's reach.
“Hmm?” Wyatt mumbled in answer, and the young woman took a step down the short ladder, closer to the floor.
“You look like you're searching for something specific,” she clarified, and Wyatt shrugged in response.
“I was, uh...makin' sure there wasn't any mistletoe hangin' around,” he answered, and she gave him a quizzical look.
“No, that...hadn't exactly occurred to me,” she answered, her brows quirked as she considered him. "Who are you gonna kiss in a shop full of dudes, anyway?"
"I'd kiss you if you let me," Wyatt blurted out, the words automatically falling from his lips before his brain could catch up. He instantly closed his eyes, his mouth opening and closing again without any more sound escaping, and when he finally opened his eyes again, he was not surprised to find her staring at him. The look on her face was not as easily discernible as he'd hoped. Before he could come up with something intelligent to say, the sound of his name being shouted across the shop caught both their attentions, and the two glanced in the direction of the voice. When Wyatt glanced back up in her direction before leaving the lobby, he found her back to him, her nimble fingers working at the artificial tree, her response still unstated.
When Wyatt arrived at the source of the shouting of his name, he found a semi-familiar man who occasionally delivered auto parts, watching out not for Wyatt, but the young woman in the lobby he leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of.
“I don't know how you get any work done with that hot little piece hangin' around here all day,” the delivery man uttered as he continued to stare, holding out a clipboard requiring signatures.
“How about you show a little respect, and stop starin',” Wyatt muttered as he scribbled his name on the form, pressing it back into the other man's hand, who voiced something sleazy in response. “Hey,” The shop owner spoke up again when his recommendation was ignored. “Why don'tcha pop your eyes back in your head before I rip 'em outta your skull?”
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The shop was mostly silent between the hours of closing, and the scheduled party, no one left at the auto-centric business save for the boss and his secretary, the Saturday before Christmas. All the mechanics had gone home in the mean time, for a proper meal, a shower, and whatever else, leaving the remaining two to do whatever it was they did when they were alone together. Rumors had swirled for months, though no one outside Wyatt and his secretary much cared about whatever was going on between the two of them. It had mostly just come to be a light source of amusement for the auto technicians, watching their employer and the only woman in the shop pretend that things were completely professional between them. It didn't much help their case of said professionalism when both had traded between themselves and the auto workers to make sure they had each other's names for Secret Santa.
“Wow,” Wyatt had stated simply as he stepped out of his office, through the garage portion of the building, and into the lobby. “This looks...I really don't pay you enough, do I?” he mumbled as his eyes scanned the tables full of laid out foodstuffs, the individually marked bags under the tree that would soon be joined with the Santa gifts, filled with 'masculine' treats like miniature bottles of liquor, meat snacks, each man's favorite candy, and of course – their holiday bonus checks. More festive decor dressed up the generally plain room, and the occasional ornament that didn't seem to quite fit in with the shiny, vivid baubles, dotted the tree.
“Probably not,” he heard a soft voice behind himself, and he swiveled about to find his only female employee, expecting to find her dressed in the same slacks and button-down she'd worn during the day. Wyatt's mouth opened slightly before closing again, no sound escaping, as he stared at her, and the shimmery blue dress that clung to her frame, and flowed out to end half way down her thighs. When he remained silent, and simply stared, she spoke up again. “Do you think it's too much?”
“I, uh...I think it might be a little too...little,” he answered, more articulate words alluding him. “Not sure how I feel about my guys seeing you like this,” Wyatt continued as she started to wander closer, watching his eyes, as his own focused on what she wore and what it failed to cover.
“I'm not worried about them,” she mumbled, reaching for his hand when he extended it toward her, staring at him intently as his gaze finally made it back up to her eyes. When he reverted back to silence again, his fingers stroking her hand and wrist as traffic flowed beyond the large windows, she glanced to the tree that she had put so much time into decorating. “So, um...how does everything look?”
“Looks great,” Wyatt murmured immediately, and she rolled her eyes and smiled, reaching her hand up to his cheek, and directing him toward the display beyond herself that she'd put so much effort into.
“I meant the tree,” she emphasized, taking a step back to watch him as he scrutinized her work. Beyond the vivid, reflective, jewel-toned baubles, Wyatt found far older pieces hanging on the occasional branch, made not of glass or plastic, but of cotton and pipe cleaners, construction paper and googly eyes. Wyatt stared at the aged crafts in silence, glancing over half a dozen trinkets from the past, finally reaching out to pluck off a miniature tree, made of glued-together Popsicle sticks, decorated with green paint and pom-pom balls of various colors. Flipping it over in his large hand, he found his own name scrawled on the back, misspelled and in his own handwriting, along with the year of the ornament's creation.
“Where...” was all he could manage as he held the school craft – older than the woman beside him – in his hand, his umber eyes twinkling from the reflections of the colorful lights, and his sudden, overwhelming emotions.
“Dallas,” she immediately answered, Wyatt's gaze drifting back to the tree to return the extracted ornament, and tug off another. “He found some boxes of...well, Walker history I guess, in his basement. Including your, uh...handmade ornaments,” she continued, as Wyatt began to explore the tree more thoroughly, drawing off each hand-crafted piece he found to inspect it more closely. “If anybody asks, I'll say they're mine,” she suddenly mumbled as the two of them watched a vehicle pull in off the street, and onto the lot the shop resided on.
“Think I'm gonna get embarrassed, or somethin'?” he questioned as he looked back at her, and she glanced out the window, at the second car that pulled in, noticing the beginnings of fluffy snow, falling from the sky, and reaching a few dozen windshields.
“I think you're already starting to get misty-eyed,” she confirmed, reaching for his empty hand when familiar mechanics started emptying out of their respective vehicles. “Hey, um...I need something in the back, and I need a tall person to help me get it,” she suddenly spoke up, and Wyatt's brows drew together as he followed her, dragged along by the smaller hand that gripped his larger one. The two of them eventually stepped into a narrow room full of boxes of files – not much more than a glorified closet – and Wyatt's gaze fell upon the tallest of the stacks as the lobby door opened, and new voices began to filter in.
“Which one?” he inquired simply as he glanced around, his secretary pointing to the door instead, or rather a piece of something plastic and green sat above the moulding. Wyatt reached up to grasp the faux foliage, comprised of green leaves and white berries, and before he could utter another word, his employee gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her height, her lips mushing against his. The fake mistletoe fell out of Wyatt's hand as he reached to cup her cheek instead, her back meeting a wall almost immediately as he pressed her against it, her body dwarfed by his own as his palms gently cradled her face. The sounds of their kisses were completely drowned out by the collective noises of the men that had begun to filter in to the lobby. “Is this because of what I said the other day?” he queried as he loomed over her. “Or is this my Christmas gift,” he added, nudging the green bundle on the floor with his shoe.
“The first one...kind of,” she confirmed, placing her hands against Wyatt's chest and gripping the fabric that draped over it. “I guess I also just...kinda got tired of waiting,” she added, shrugging her shoulders, closing her eyes as he leaned over her, placing his forehead against hers after he captured another quick kiss.
“The first day we met, you made it clear you didn't want me askin' you out,” he reminded, and she took a breath and sighed, shaking her head, the tips of their noses brushing against one another. “And! I wouldn't ever wanna make you uncomfortable, with you bein' my employee and all.”
“Do I look uncomfortable to you?” she spoke up, and Wyatt stood back up straight, carefully cupping her jaw as he looked over her features. “Funny,” she mumbled, reaching up to grasp his hand.
“I'm serious, though...I'd rather you be comfortable than prioritize my own...” his words fell away as she stood up on tip-toe to steal a kiss, then another, Wyatt chuckling when she nudged him back against the closed door. “Think we oughta get out there, before the boys start dippin' in to the eggnog,” he mumbled, though his arms continued to rest around her waist.
“Wait, not...hold on,” she answered suddenly, slipping out of Wyatt's grasp as she stepped back toward a stack of boxes, reaching an arm through the crack of shadowy space between them. “Why don't you go ahead and, uh...open your gift,” she mumbled, pressing a pristinely wrapped present into his hand, the paper's pattern distinct and aged.
“I can wait-”
“No, really...go ahead,” she encouraged, and he lowered his gaze to the paper-sheathed box. Glancing up at her for a moment, he cast his eyes back to the item in his hands, and began to carefully open it, guiding a finger between the edges of wrap. Pulling the paper away, a confused look formed across his face, and he managed a simple, questioning, “You shouldn't have?”
“Oh my g-...keep opening,” she huffed, and Wyatt's brows drew together as he stared at a box meant for fuses, but he continued along, finally drawing out something rectangular from inside, packed with green tissue paper. Glancing up at her expectant face once more, Wyatt tore the remaining paper away and stared at the framed photo in his hand. His eyes darted back to hers, and down to the picture again – a joyous moment between a child-version of himself, and his deceased mother, captured on film.
“Dallas?” Wyatt asked simply, his mouth pressing into a strained frown as moisture began to well up at the corners of his eyes.
“Of course, Dallas,” she mumbled, reaching up to brush fallen strands of hair from his face as he wiped away quickly-forming hot tears from his cheeks. “I didn't quite hit the $25 limit, but-” A pounding on his office door, beyond the file closet they stood in, cut off her words, and Wyatt wiped more tears away from his eyes as he stood up straighter. “I, um...I knew you wouldn't wanna cry in front of your guys,” she whispered, and Wyatt's gaze met hers, lifting up a tear-dampened hand to brush her hair back from her face. “Do you like it?”
Wyatt tilted his head as he considered her, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, “I love it.”
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To neither Wyatt's, nor his secretary's surprise, the party was already a festive, joyous success by the time they made it out of the closet, their emergence fortunately going unnoticed. The mechanics, and guests who had arrived as their plus-one's, quickly dived into the food and drink, including the alcohol-infused eggnog, and a collection of gifts – mostly in holiday-themed bags – began to accumulate under the tree, among the initial shop-financed gift bags. A particularly shiny box was eventually added after Wyatt disappeared briefly to his office, and within an hour of the gathering beginning, bags and boxes from under the tree had slowly began to disappear as they were collected and opened.
Eyes glancing around the room to make sure all the employees and their guests were distracted, the secretary dropped her gaze to the box in her hand, wrapped in a way that displayed effort despite a lack of skills – the paper metallic and holographic, the edges cut jagged from failed attempts to slice a pristine line. The tag on the gift stated it was from 'Santa', but the handwriting was instantly recognizable as Wyatt's, and she glanced his way, relieved to see his eyes focused elsewhere, before she began to pluck at the clear tape. A wave of discomfort washed over her as she exposed the interior, a smaller box inside the larger box, this one upholstered in a velvet-like fabric. When she glanced back up again, she found Wyatt's umber eyes trained on her from across the lobby, a bottle of domestic beer in his grasp. Taking a deep, nervous breath, she inched the smaller box open, and was met with a loud smack of hinged edges meeting each other when she let it close again. Staring at the fabric-covered box, she glimpsed inside once more, then quickly closed it again. Wyatt let out a sigh from his isolated corner of the bustling room as he watched her cross it, and disappear down the short hallway that led to his office.
She was plopped down in his swivel chair by the time he entered his office, himself, to join her, away from the noise of the party.
“So, you make me make the first move after almost six months-”
“I didn't make-”
“And then you draw my name for a $25 gift, and end up spending...do I even wanna know how much you spent on this?” you asked, exasperated as she gripped the jewelry box in her hand. His silent stare drew a sigh out of her, and she sat the box down on the desk. “More than my rent?” Wyatt looked away to some invisible spot on the wall. “Two months of my rent?” Still no answer. “Please...tell me there isn't anything on the sales lot priced lower than what you spent,” she implored, and her boss glanced toward the parking lot beyond the window at her back. “Wyatt?!”
“I'm thinking!” he answered, watching her slump back in his chair. “I can't remember the price of every car out there off the top of my head,” he insisted, but both the boss and his employee knew that wasn't true. He was too meticulous for that, which only served to validate her irritation. “Do you not like it, or-”
“It's not...this isn't about whether I like it or not-”
“So, you do like it,” he interrupted, and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly.
“...Well, of course I like it,” she finally mumbled, a smile finally returning to Wyatt's lips as he pushed off the door with his foot and took a few steps, sliding into the stationary chair on the opposite side of his desk than normal. “But, that isn't the point,” she huffed, watching him as his shoulders shifted, as he made himself comfortable. “This is...this is way too much.”
“There's no such thing,” he responded, and she slumped further against his chair, glancing toward the door at the sound of a clatter beyond it. “I'd spoil you rotten if I got the chance, darlin',” he continued, “If you gave me that chance.”
“I don't need you to spoil me,” she muttered as he stood up and stepped around the desk, sinking down to sit on the floor by her feet, his legs crossed. “Just be normal...ask me out on an actual date, or something,” she offered, a roar of laughter from a handful of voices erupting from the lobby, drawing both of their attentions.
“So...should I take the necklace back, and-” he began, but she swiped the box before he could lay a hand on it from beside the desk. “No?”
“No...I like it,” she admitted, opening up the box again, finally drawing out a pendant hanging from a delicate, silver-toned chain. “What is it, anyway?” she asked, gazing at the flashes of color that seemed to shift in the glow of the flood lights, streaming in from the window.
“Uh...Tanzanite?” he confirmed, though he sounded a bit uncertain. “I never heard of it, but I guess it's your birth stone?” he explained.
“One of them,” she confirmed. “Certainly the most expensive.”
“Well...I also thought it was the prettiest,” he insisted, tugging his phone out of a denim pocket and shining the flash light on the gem. It shifted deep blue to vibrant green, hints of violent at the furthest edges. “Rare, and unique, and...beautiful,” he continued, staring at the glistening stone before his gaze shifted higher, to the eyes of the young woman that sat before him.
“Guess I'm...lucky you pulled my name,” she finally mumbled, and he winced as he began to stand up, his knees aching a bit as he rose, the sound of something breaking in the lobby convincing him it was time to rejoin the festivities.
“Actually, I had to trade with one of the guys,” he admitted, taking her hand to give her leverage to stand, her feet a tad unsteady as the booze-spiked eggnog she'd enjoyed earlier began to take noticeable effect. “He didn't wanna give up your name, either.”
“That's funny, I had to trade for yours, too,” she answered, grasping the box in one hand as Wyatt held the other. “But, um...he was kind of thrilled to get rid of it.” Wyatt shrugged as he reached his empty hand for the doorknob, but his secretary grasped it gently as his fingers formed a grip around the brass-toned metal. “I wouldn't have taken no for an answer though, just so you...” she finally shrugged, and Wyatt leaned against the door to watch her flustered form. “I wasn't gonna let someone else make you cry,” she murmured, and he chuckled softly as he recalled the gift, or rather gifts that she had given him. Not just the photo, or the ornaments, he realized. She'd dug up a piece of his past he'd thought long gone, and he was grateful for it, and for her. As he began to lean in toward the expectant young woman before him, the knob in his hand seemed to turn of its own accord, and the door opened up to reveal a few of the more inebriated employees, mentally returned to their teen years, trying to catch a sight not meant for them. The door immediately closed again in their faces as Wyatt shoved his palm against it, his other hand weaving into the young woman's hair as he leaned in for a kiss.
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