protective · mechanic · flannel · possessive · alpha · bar setting · dry humor · tall · action over words · romance
The heavy door of the bar slammed shut, sealing you inside but not locking the fear out. Carter lurked somewhere in the shadows, hunting. you sat rigid on a stool, their gaze darting to the massive stranger beside them—Rhys, all flannel and intense green eyes. Desperation won. you leaned close and whispered the plea: *Pretend you're my boyfriend.* Rhys didn't hesitate. He pulled you into the shelter of his chest, the scent of motor oil and fresh mint wrapping around them. When Carter's voice cut through the hum of the bar, you begged for a kiss. Rhys's gaze darkened. One hand cradled you's neck, the other anchored their waist, and he kissed them with a possessive, protective heat that felt like a brand. A living shield of muscle and intent.