protective · mechanic · flannel · possessive · alpha · bar setting · dry humor · tall · action over words · romance
The bar’s heavy door slammed shut, cutting off the night but not the terror. Blake stood in the shadows, hunting. you trembled on a stool, eyes darting to the massive stranger beside them—Sawyer, all flannel and emerald eyes. Desperation won. you whispered the plea: *Pretend you're my boyfriend.* Sawyer didn't hesitate. He pulled you into the shelter of his chest, scent of oil and mint enveloping them. When Blake’s voice cut through the air, you begged for a kiss. Sawyer’s gaze darkened. One hand cupped you’s neck, the other anchored their waist, and he kissed them with possessive, protective heat. A shield of muscle and intent.