#stetson cap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 8 months ago

Text

he’s a good time, cowboy casanova!

pair: cowboy!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 9.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, alternate universe/no powers, swearing, drinking, smoking, probably some inaccuracies about ranch life idk i haven't been around a horse in like two years, logan working a lasso yes god, age gap (early 40s/mid 20s), THE COWBOY HAT RULE RAAAHHH, nasty dirty talk, i was so horny for kissing when i was writing this jesus, p in v, unprotected sex (do as sex ed tells you, not as i write), semi-public sex, riding, creampie, some emotional constipation cause it’s me, porn with a little too much plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: another purely self indulgent work...i just fucking love cowboys what can i say. it's practically ingrained in me by this point. logan would never dance but like who cares he's my barbie i can make him do whatever i want! kisses <3

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

a cowboy and the governor’s daughter walk into a barn...

The ranch is alive like you've never seen before, almost every acre lit up in celebration of your father's recent inauguration.

Twinkling lights strung around the barn's ceiling cast a warm orange glow all around you, flickering like fireflies on a summer night.

People are everywhere—laughing, mingling, drinking. Their faces both familiar and new, dressed in everything from head-to-toe denim to their Sunday best.

The lively music from the band floats through the space, couples on the makeshift dance floor twirling to the familiar twang of an acoustic guitar.

You take it all in from your spot against the wall, drink in hand as your eyes scan the room.

You did your share of mingling earlier in the evening, greeting the higher-up’s in your city with hugs and thanks.

You posed for pictures that’ll be splashed across the front pages of Monday’s paper, listened to your father’s speech as you stood by his side with a smile.

This is the first moment you've gotten to yourself since the ball started, one you've spent in content silence while enjoying the perks of an open bar.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by your lonesome?"

The honeyed rasp of a voice filtering in from your left paired with the jingling sound of spurs against the soft ground grabs your attention.

At first, you turn ready to greet a stray boutique or feedstore owner you may have missed earlier. You’re pleasantly surprised to see Marie sauntering towards you instead, a bright grin on her face that makes you smile right back.

Marie was one of the first people you met after moving to Texas at the beginning of your father's campaign, and you've only gotten closer since she started as a ranch hand down at Blackbird.

Her unruly red curls spill out from under her Stetson, the bouncy strands swinging in time with the white fringe of her show-shirt as she opens her arms.

"Thought you might have gotten lost in all the fancy folk," she teases, nearly crushing you with the strength of her hug.

You laugh as you hug her back, the warmth of her embrace a welcome interruption to your moment of peace and quiet. Her scent wraps around you, the familiar dust and lavender that's seeped into her clothes.

"Definitely not lost," you say, stepping back to meet her gaze. "Just taking it all in."

Marie smirks, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside you, crossing her arms as she watches the crowd.

"Sure is a good night for it," she says, glancing over at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Lookin' for anyone in particular? A nice night cap?"

You snort, taking another sip of your drink. Marie has always been more invested in your love life than you, hand picking guys from around town she deems worthy enough of your attention.

You know she means well, and it's almost as endearing as it is pesky, so you let her play matchmaker from time to time.

“I don’t need a night cap,” you laugh, shaking your head sluggishly. "I’m perfectly fine spending tonight alone."

Before Marie can respond, a stir from outside filters in. Loud cheers and hollers, hooves beating against dirt, the distinct whistle of a lasso slicing through the air.

Marie practically squeals, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet as she peers through the barn doors. “It’s starting!”

You don’t have time to ask what ‘it’ is before she’s snatching up your wrist and turning to haul you outside.

"Marie! Where the hell are we going?" You practically trip over your own feet trying to keep up with her, your drink splashing up against the rim of your glass precariously.

Marie laughs as she pulls you out into the cool evening air, her boots crunching on the gravel as she drags you toward the commotion. “You’ll see!”

You weave through the crowd forming around the training ring, Marie’s grip still tight around your wrist as she pushes toward the front until you’re right up against the railing.

You peer over it, eyes adjusting to the floodlights surrounding the ring, illuminating the clouds of dust kicked up by the different ranch hands perched on horses.

A few riders take turns showing off their skills, each of them in the same show-shirt as Marie, expertly swinging lassos and wrangling cattle with practiced ease.

The energy is contagious, and you find yourself smiling, soaking in the excitement pulsing through the crowd.

Marie leans closer, her voice low and laced with something knowing. “Just wait for it, honey. It’s about to get good.”

You give her a puzzled look, but she’s already grinning ear to ear, her attention fully focused on a new rider that chargers into the ring.

You follow her gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

He rides in like he owns the place, his coal black horse cutting through the fog of dirt like a shadow, sleek and powerful beneath him.

A black Stetson sits low over his face, casting shadows that only add to the rugged allure of his jawline, a jawline that could cut glass.

As he leans forward to grab the rope tossed at him by one of the other riders, his muscles flex, a kind of strength that isn’t there for show, but for real work.

His show-shirt is stretched over the width of his chest, over broad shoulders that look like they were carved from stone, made for lifting hay bales and hundred pound feed bags.

The sleeves rolled up to expose forearms dusted with dark hair and more than a few scars. His gloved hands rest on the reins with an ease that tells you he’s more than familiar on a saddle.

He’s not the flashiest rider, but there’s something commanding in his presence as he races his horse towards the steer, lasso circling high above his head.

He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to put on a show—he is the show.

Marie’s grip on your wrist tightens, and she leans in again, her voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

“That’s Logan,” she says, practically glowing with pride. ”He’s the foreman down at Blackbird, might just be the best damn cowboy in the whole state.”

You blink, hardly able to tear your gaze away from Logan, who’s riding like he’s part of the horse, one seamless, commanding figure cutting through the chaos in the ring.

His focus is sharp, and as his lasso snaps through the air, catching the steers back leg in a clean loop, the crowd erupts in applause.

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement flashing beneath the shadow of his hat.

Marie nudges you, her grin widening as she catches the look on your face. “Told you he was worth watching,” she teases, winking. “And he’s got a bit of a reputation for bein’ hard to impress—one of those strong, silent types, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster as Logan turns his horse, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before it lands on you.

Your cheeks warm under his stare, trying to subtly make out the different features of his face from this far. His head tilts just slightly, as if he’s sizing you up from across the ring.

For a second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones there. The cheers from the audience dulling into white noise all around you, everything in your peripheral blurring together—everything but him.

“He’s good…” Your voice has gone light, airy as you watch Logan turn his horse back to lead the steer into the ring's stall with all the others.

Marie's grin only widens as she leans against the post, clever eyes trained on the side of your face. "You still 'perfectly find spendin' the night alone'?"

You don't respond, too busy watching the strong muscle of Logan's back ripple under his shirt as he rides out of the ring—to your complete dismay—almost as fast as he rode in.

You're only snapped out of your trance when you can't make out his silhouette any longer. The crowd around you dissipates, filtering back into the barn while you're stuck to the fence straining your eyes for broad shoulders and a black cowboy hat.

“Show’s over, sugar.” Marie says with a snort, gently tugging you away from the post. “Come on, let’s get you another drink.”

You lost your company ten minutes ago, but you knew you didn’t stand a chance when Remy found the two of you huddled at the bar.

Sheepishly coming up to Marie with his hat in his hand, pressing it to his chest as he asked her for a dance.

You waved them off with a smile, assuring Marie you'd be fine on your own for a couple songs.

It gave you a chance to step out for some fresh air, to lean against the side of the barn and sneak a cigarette while your father was busy dancing with the town's best real estate agent money can buy.

You take a slow drag, eyes peering up at the stars so you can trace the constellations. You think that this might just be your favorite part of the move.

Nevada has never been known for its clear skies, you can count the times you’d been able to see the stars on one hand.

You still remember the first night after you settled into your new house, the stress of the move and your fathers inauguration weighed on you enough that sleep was hard to come by.

You finally crept out of bed around three, climbing over your balcony to perch yourself on the roof, carton of cigarettes and a lighter shoved in the waistband of your shorts.

The first time you looked out over the horizon was like stepping into a whole new world.

The stars had never felt so close, hung through the air like diamonds. So bright against the vast nothingness that stretched out beyond the too-big ranch house on the too-many acres the state appointed you and your father.

It was like you could almost reach out and touch them, pluck them from the sky like fruit off a tree.

You’d been used to the city lights, the constant hum of noise that swallowed up the stars, but here? It was different.

The air smelled of dust and rainwater, and the silence was louder than anything you’d ever known.

You remember the deep, quiet hum of the night, almost like it was waiting for you to catch up, to adjust to the new rhythm of the world you were suddenly a part of.

It was a moment of peace, a brief stillness from the mess crowding your head, and you found comfort in that isolation.

You take another long drag, letting the smoke curl around your fingers, the orange embers glowing bright against the darkness.

As the faint scent of tobacco mixes with the cool air, you find that same sense of peace returning, the same stillness settling over your chest.

You tilt your head back to rest on the barn, eyes fluttering shut as you let the crisp breeze lull you into its serenity.

"Those'll kill you, y'know."

A voice comes from just over your shoulder, warm and low. A smooth drawl ringing out from the shadows.

You slip your eyes open, expecting to see one of the older ranch hands or maybe even a city official looking to lecture the governor's kid.

It takes you a second, but the black Stetson and squared shoulders register quickly enough—Logan.

You nearly swallow your tongue, eyes widening as you take in the way he leans against the barn a few feet away from you. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching you.

The moonlight dances across his face, highlighting the rough line of his jaw and the confident tilt of his smirk.

“I didn’t think cowboys were one’s for giving lectures.” You’re shocked at the stillness of your voice, the beat of your heart picking up the tiniest bit.

Logan’s smirk only widens as he pushes off the wall, gravel crunching under his boots as he makes his way over to you, slow and deliberate. He’s still dressed in the same outfit from before, a lasso still coiled in one hand.

He comes to a stop next to you, leaning his shoulder just inches from yours. "Not usually. But when I see a pretty girl puffin' away on somethin' that's bound to ruin her, I make an exception."

You smirk, lifting the cigarette to your lips again just to make a point, even as your pulse jumps a little under his gaze. "Guess we all have our vices.” You say, blowing out the smoke slowly, watching the way his gaze tracks its lazy drift.

Logan’s eyes trail back to yours, and you can see the color of them now that he’s closer. A mix of different greens and browns fading together, like a forest in the thick of summer.

The lightest dusting of freckles decorate the bridge of his nose, trailing along his cheeks until they disappear under his beard, a product of being out in the sun so often.

You’re struck by how pretty he is, all long lashes and red lips.

Well, pretty for a cowboy anyway.

“You plan on sharin’?”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, brow raising skeptically. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan just shrugs, a lazy half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I reckon’ it’s rude to let a lady smoke alone.”

You huff lightly, reaching into the pocket of your dress. You flick the top of your Marlboros open, slipping a cigarette out and offering it to Logan silently.

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours enough to send a spark through you. It travels up your arm and all around your shoulders to seep down through your entire body, resting in your stomach to swirl through the heat simmering there.

“Got a light?” He asks, words muffled around the filter.

You roll your eyes, but reach back into your pocket regardless. Logan leans closer as you flip your zippo open, taking his hat off to cover the side of his face, blocking the flame from the lazy breeze.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he nears closer. You didn’t expect he’d want you to light it for him. You will your hand to steady as you raise the flame to the tip, holding it close enough that the small light illuminates his face.

The intoxicating mix of leather and musk invades your senses. You fight the urge to lean into it entirely, to close the gap.

When the flame flickers and catches the end of his cigarette, Logan pulls back, taking a languid drag, the embers glowing between his lips.

His eyes don't leave yours as he exhales deeply, the smoke curling from his lips in slow tendrils. You can’t tell if it’s the nicotine or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head spin.

You break eye contact, feeling the flush creeping up your neck, and lean back against the barn to cool yourself off. Logan leans beside you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you, just the soft crackling of cigarettes and distant music filling the space between.

Logan puts his hat back on, his voice breaking through the quiet as he does. “You’re Governor Wright’s daughter, ain't you?”

You nod slowly, exhaling another long plume of smoke. It’s still weird hearing it out loud. “I am.”

Logan hums, turning his head to face you again. The silver moonlight catching the glint in his eye.

“Saw your picture in the paper.” His gaze rakes from the top of your head, all the way down to the tips of your boots. “Looked real nice.”

The air feels heavier as Logan’s eyes travel over you, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, before meeting your gaze again. His eyes hold a hint of amusement, the green of them darker than before. The heat swims through you faster, stronger.

“Congratulations.” He adds, almost like an afterthought. A quick pivot to take some attention away from how his eyes swept over your body so shamelessly.

You snort before you can stop yourself. If you had a dollar for every time you’ve heard that over the past few weeks. “Yeah,” you say, kicking at some rocks near your feet. “Thank you.”

You can see the way Logan’s brow raises out of the corner of your eye, his gaze burning a hole along your profile.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he comments, exhaling lazily. “That why you’re hidin’ out here?”

You shrug, leaning back against the barn and tapping your cigarette to shake off some ash. “Maybe I just like the quiet,” you say. “Or maybe I’m avoiding another round of ‘how proud are you of your daddy’ small talk.”

Logan stays quiet, and you feel the overwhelming need to explain yourself. A need to fill the silence, like he’s some kind of magnet that soothes the truth from people.

You sigh, turning your eyes to the dark sky again. “I’m happy for my dad, of course I am but…” You trail off, searching for the right words. “It’s just a lot.”

He chuckles lightly, a low rumble that feels more real than the sounds of laughter from inside the barn. “Hell, I don’t blame you,” he says, his eyes flicking up to the stars too. “Nothin’ wrong with takin' a breather now and then.”

You both stand there in comfortable silence, the night stretching out around you, as vast and open as the sky above. You let yourself study Logan out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way he seems at ease, like he’s as much a part of this land as the grass and stars.

Finally, he looks over, and you feel that sharp gaze settle on you again. “You keep starin’ like that,” he says, a teasing note creeping into his voice, “I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re more interested in somethin' other than the stars.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, heat rushing to your ears as you search for something to say.

Logan’s smirk widens as he catches the way your breath stutters, and for a moment, the silence is thick, the air between you charged.

You force a laugh, trying to play it off, but it’s weak, and you can feel the heat creeping up your neck again. "I—"

Back inside the barn, the band switches songs, saving you from your embarrassment. A softer melody floats through the air, slow and sweet as molasses. It’s muffled enough that it sounds almost hazy, like a soundtrack to the most wonderful dreams.

Logan turns to watch the shadows move in the light spilling through the open doors. Couples pairing off, taking to the dancefloor. All warm embraces and slow moving circles, swaying to the gentle beat.

He turns back to you, running his thumb over the coarse lasso in his hand. “Care for a dance?”

You raise your brow, skepticism written all over your face. “I don’t really do that.”

Logan doesn’t back down, tilting his head with an easy grin. “Seems like a waste not dancin’ in a dress like that.”

You can’t fight the smile that tugs your lips up, shaking your head with a quiet laugh as you peer down at the nice floral fabric of your sundress. The wind makes it swish along your sides, the flowy fabric swaying over the knee of your boots.

“Maybe another time, Logan.” You try to ignore how good his name feels rolling off your tongue.

He takes one last drag off his cigarette before he’s stubbing it out on the worn leather of his belt and slipping the butt in his jean pocket. It’s both the strangest and most endearing thing you’ve ever seen—a cowboy that refuses to litter.

“Well I’m gonna have to insist.” He crosses his arms over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, a dare.

“Oh, you’re insisting, are you?” You repeat doubtfully, lolling your head to the side languidly, your hair flowing with it. ”And how are you gonna do that?”

Logan doesn’t answer with words, just raises his arm to start twirling his lasso through the air with a smug grin. He circles once, twice, three times before a deft flick of his wrist sends the rope across the way to you.

It slips over your shoulders, sliding down to catch on the curve of your hips.

You raise a brow, reluctant smile still playing on your lips. “Do you carry this thing with you everywhere you go?”

Logan cocks a brow, tugging on his end of the rope so it tightens around you, forcing you a step closer.

You stumble forward with a soft laugh, eyes darting up to meet Logan's. The lasso feels snug, but not tight enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s in control, and the thought sends a spark straight down to your core.

“You sure you don’t dance?” He tugs you a few steps closer, his smirk only deepening as he effortlessly reels you in.

You bite your lip to stifle a smile, shaking your head. “You sure are persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Logan doesn’t wait for you to say anything else, instead taking that final step forward. His grip tightens slightly on the lasso, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you.

You can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath.

“Some would say it’s my best quality,” he teases quietly, voice dropping to something lower, like gravel and velvet. “Now, you gonna fight me the whole way through, or are we gonna dance?”

You glance up at him, your chest fluttering in spite of yourself. A thousand lame excuses run through your mind, but all you can manage is a breathless laugh, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and nerves.

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you murmur, hands tentatively coming to rest on his shoulders. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan’s smile softens, his hand slinking around your hips to loosen the lasso, letting it slip down your legs so you can step out of it.

Big hands settle on your waist, brushing the soft fabric of your dress, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, guiding you effortlessly into an easy sway.

The moment you fall into the rhythm of the music, your body moves naturally against Logan’s, and you can feel the charge between you intensify with each step.

His boots scrape against the dirt as he leads you in a slow, almost languid circle. Your feet match his without thinking, the sound of your boots in sync with the soft country tune playing from the barn.

“See? Not so bad, huh?” His voice is low, a soft whisper against the backdrop of the music.

You nod slowly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. The rough scrape of his jeans against your bare legs sends a delicious shiver skittering up your spine.

“Not so bad,” you agree, your voice quieter now, the playful edge slipping away as something deeper stirs between you.

You tilt your head up, breath catching in your chest when you find him already looking down at you. His lips quirk up slightly, but there’s a new intensity there now, something sharper than the teasing glimmer from before.

"Logan," you murmur, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost to the night air.

His free hand slides up the length of your spine, trailing along your neck until he’s cupping the side of your face. His thumb grazes your cheekbone with a gentleness you never thought men like him to be capable of.

The space between you shrinks even more as Logan dips his head, his nose brushing against yours in a featherlight touch that sends a shiver down your spine

“You gonna tell me to stop?” He murmurs, his lips so close now you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Your throat works to form words, but they’re gone, stolen by the way his hands slide a fraction lower on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitches again, and without thinking, you close the space, lips pressing against his, soft at first, unsure. Logan deepens it almost immediately, tugging you impossibly closer.

It’s tender–achingly so. Logan’s lips are surprisingly soft, he tastes like top-shelf whiskey and your Marlboro Golds. They mold to yours with a gentle pressure, warm and inviting. His hand on your face tilts your head slightly, angling you just right as his thumb continues to trace soft circles over your cheek.

The warmth of it spreads through you, settling low in your stomach, and you think you could stay like this the whole night, wrapped in the quiet safety of him.

All too soon, Logan’s pulling away. You whine pathetically, lips chasing his own. You’d be embarrassed if it wasn't for the pure need coursing through you.

“You were right,” he mutters lowly, running his thumb along the slick expanse of your bottom lip. “This is a hell of a lot better than dancin’.”

“Shut up.” You drag him back down by the fistfuls of his shirt, your own lips hungrily seeking out his again.

This kiss is different, something filthier, something messier. It’s like a dam breaking to let a rush of water break free, all the tension unraveling itself as you meet again.

The gentle tilt of Logan’s head changes, and when his teeth catch your bottom lip with just enough pressure, your knees feel dangerously close to buckling.

His hand slides down from your cheek, skimming your jawline before tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. His tongue sweeps past your lips, and the taste of whiskey and smoke is heady, stronger, dizzying.

Logan’s mouth moves against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You let out a soft, involuntary sound, and that only spurs him on, the hand in your hair tightening as he presses you back against the rough wood of the barn.

It digs into your body harshly, scratching at the bare skin of your shoulders and backs of your thighs. You hardly care.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off so you can tug him closer as your tongues slide together lewdly. Logan groans into your mouth at the sting of his scalp, you can feel the rumble of it in your bones.

His beard scratches against your chin and cheeks so deliciously that you can’t help but imagine where else it might rub your skin red and raw. The thought alone has a shudder running through you, your hips arching off the barn unconsciously.

The subtle grind when your hips slot together is enough to have Logan’s grip tightening around your hips. His fingers flexing where they’re still tangled in your hair. You moan softly at the hard length tenting his jeans, pressing insistently against your lower stomach, big even trapped in the rough denim.

Your body reacts to the thick plane of heat almost viscerally, your pussy aching with the need to be filled.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because neither of you can breathe.

Logan pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths that match your own. His pupils are blown wide, dark and intense. You dazedly think back to the sleek coat of his horse, black as ink and shining under the rings lights.

His lips are an angry red and slightly swollen, glistening in the pale moonlight, and the sight of him—disheveled and wanting��sends another wave of heat blooming through your core to leak wet and sticky in your panties.

“Your daddy would shoot me between the eyes if he caught us like this, darlin’.”

You hide your pleased smile in the crook of his neck, trailing soft kisses from his jaw to his ear. “Then we should find somewhere a little more private, shouldn’t we?”

Logan groans, hands bunching the fabric of your dress in tight fists as your lips brush against the lobe of his ear with every word, teasing. “I reckon’ we should.”

You step back, fingers trailing down to toy with the shiny belt buckle sitting pretty on his waist. “Lead the way.”

Logan smirks, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

He bends to grab his hat from where it lays at his feet, pushing his hair away from his eyes before dropping it back on his head. His hand finds the small of your back, turning to lead you away from the barn.

You try not to notice how well it fits.

Turns out, ‘somewhere a little more private’ is just another barn. This one filled with stray mountains of hay and empty horse stalls instead of the watchful eyes of partygoers.

You can’t bring yourself to care, not when Logan’s got you pressed to the closed door, his hands roaming down your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip.

“Christ, you’re somethin’ else,” Logan mutters, his voice thick with want as his lips ghost along the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your knees shake.

His breath is hot against your ear when he adds, “Bet you’re soaked for me already, aren’t you, darlin’?”

The rough pads of his fingers drag along your bare thighs as he hikes your dress higher, the fabric bunching at your waist. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between your legs as his palms knead the soft flesh.

You bite your lip to stifle the embarrassing moan that threatens to escape, but he catches the sound anyway, pressing a cocky grin to the side of your cheek.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now.” His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The low groan that escapes him when he feels how wet you are is pure sin, vibrating against your neck as his fingers trace over the damp cotton. “Fuck, barely touched you and you’re already drippin’ for me.”

“Logan—” You start, but your words dissolve into a sharp gasp as he hooks a finger beneath the fabric, pulling it to the side.

The first drag of his finger through your slick folds has your head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. A high moan falls from your parted lips, embarrassing and needy as your thighs clench around his wrist.

Logan just hums, pressing a kiss to the corner of your slack mouth. “Is she hurtin’ real bad, baby?” he asks softly, his thumb pressed over your pulsing clit. “Just gotta give you some sweet kisses and she gets all worked up, huh?”

Your only response is a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for stability as he teases you with slow, torturous circles around your clit.

His thick pointer finger slides through the slick seam of your pussy, catching on your dripping entrance before it’s sinking to the knuckle in one slow thrust.

You arch into him, your hips rocking instinctively to take him deeper, desperate for more. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek as his gaze locks onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip, your breath hitching as he watches every little expression cross your face.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he coaxes, sliding his finger in and out at a maddeningly slow pace. “Look at you, so fuckin’ beautiful. Takin’ my fingers so good, baby.”

“Please,” you gasp, the need in your voice making his smirk widen.

“Please what?” he teases, curling his finger inside you and grinning when you nearly sob at the sensation. “Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as you manage to stutter out, “Kiss…kiss me.”

Logan groans, brows twitching up like that wasn’t what he was expecting to fall from your slick, kiss bitten lips. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning in to capture your mouth with his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperate and bruising.

His lips part against yours, tongue sliding in to meet yours, hot and eager, as he sinks a second finger inside your clenching hole.

The kiss deepens, becoming a rhythm of its own, each stroke of his tongue matching the languid thrust of his fingers.

Logan's lips move hungrily against yours, his pace never faltering even as his fingers curl inside you, searching, teasing, until—there.

The moment he brushes against that spot, your back arches off the barn wall, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. He grins against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, “There she is.”

The slick sound of his fingers pumping into you fills the quiet barn, mingling with your soft, breathy whimpers. His thumb circles your clit with devastating precision, each pass of his fingers inside you coaxing your body closer to the edge.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight, honey,” he groans, his voice rough and dripping with praise. “Can feel how close you are. Bet you’re gonna fall apart for me so pretty, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head, your breath coming in soft pants. “No.” Your hand snakes down to his wrist, halting his movements. “Wanna finish with you inside me.”

Logan stills, his breath catching as your words hang heavy in the air. His fingers stay buried inside you, the slight curl of them making your thighs quake as his eyes search yours.

The fire there burns hotter now, feral and barely restrained.

“Yeah?” The raw hunger in his voice makes your pulse spike. “You want me inside you, huh? Wanna feel me stretch you open, baby?”

You nod eagerly, your chest heaving as his words fan the flames of your desire.

“Alright,” he mutters darkly, voice gone low and smoky. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Logan slips his fingers from the warm grip of your pussy, the sudden emptiness stealing all the air from your lungs. You miss the stretch almost immediately, clenching around nothing with a soft moan.

He lifts his hand between you, his fingers glistening with your wetness in the dim light. “Look at that,” he says softly, almost in awe, before slipping his fingers into his mouth and groaning at the taste.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your cheeks burning at the sight.

Logan catches your gaze, a wicked smirk spreading across his face as he leans in close. “C’mon,” he whispers softly against the skin of your neck, hands slipping around the backs of your thighs and squeezing gently. “Up.”

You hitch your legs up around his waist, a soft breath escaping you at the way he lifts you with ease, like you weigh nothing.

You can’t help but run your hands over the thick muscle of his biceps as he walks you further into the barn, lips trailing wet kisses along where his shirt’s top button popped open, exposing more of his tan skin to your greedy eyes.

Logan falls back against a knocked over bale of hay, you feel the hot length of his hard cock grinding over the slick fabric of your panties as he positions you over his lap.

You waste no time, stray pieces of hay digging into your knees as your trembling hands reach for his buckle. Your fingers brush over the cool metal as you fumble sliding the worn leather through his belt loops.

Logan just watches you, leaning back on his forearms with a smirk—cool as ever.

Once his belt is undone and his zipper dragged down, you shove at his jeans, watching with a mix of anticipation and desire as his cock springs free, thick and heavy and already leaking for you.

You’ve heard the expression ‘hung like a horse’ countless times. You always thought it was a gross exaggeration, until now.

Logan’s hand glides down his stomach to start stroking himself lazily, his eyes never leaving yours. “Been hard since the second I laid eyes on you tonight. Could barely keep my hands to myself, watchin’ you all dolled up like that. Drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your mouth waters with the need to taste, eyes tracking the thick line of pre-come leaking from his flushed tip.

The phantom ache in your jaw almost has you dropping to your stomach right there, but you know that your time here is limited, and you need Logan inside of you more than anything.

You lean back, lifting your legs so you can shimmy your soaked panties down and off, tossing them behind you haphazardly the same way you tossed his belt.

His eyes are locked onto yours as you crawl back towards him, situating yourself over his lap all over again. You take a steadying breath as you reach for his cock, nearly moaning at the heft of it in your hand, at the near scalding touch of his silky skin against your palm.

“Hang on, baby.” Logan’s hands fall to your hips, stopping you just as the tip of his cock brushes against your dripping pussy. “You wanna ride, you gotta look the part.”

He drags his hands lower, calloused palms rough against the soft skin of your thighs. It’s enough to make you shiver, hips twitching down with the desperate need to be filled.

“Got the boots,” he murmurs idly, thumbs sliding along the back of your thighs. “Just need the hat.”

Logan reaches up to grab his hat by the crown, pulling it off his head to drop it on yours.

You left out a soft breath, feeling the worn felt settle on the top of your head, still warm from his own.

It’s too big, slipping down to shadow your eyes. Logan’s gaze darkens as he adjusts it, tipping it back just enough to frame your face.

“Much better,” he says, flicking the brim once before his hands fall back to your hips. “Alright cowgirl, give it to me good.”

The words shoot straight to your core, igniting something wild and reckless inside you.

You bite your lip, spurred on by the way his hands knead the meat of your hips. Not forcing or pushing, just two steady weights as you slowly start to sink down.

It's nearly torturous, but in the best way possible. The stretch of each inch a pleasant burn as your hips slot against his after what feels like an eternity.

“Fuck.” Logan grits out, his hands tightening on your hips as you settle, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness.

Your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you slowly begin to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles.

Logan’s eyes track every movement, darkened with need, a quiet groan slipping from him as his hands slide lower, gripping your ass, urging you to pick up the pace.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “Takin’ it all so good.”

His praise only encourages you, and you lift yourself up before sinking back down, your hands gripping the scratchy fabric of his shirt for leverage.

The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you with every downward movement, makes your head swim, the pressure building in your core.

The barn is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together lewdly, with the wet gush of your pussy leaking around the base of his cock messily. It has your ears burning, shame and arousal a heady mix in your lower belly.

Logan’s hips start to rise from the barn floor, snapping up to meet yours with every bounce. You can feel him deeper like this, brushing against places that make your legs shake with pleasure.

You’re dangerously close to the edge already, a mess from all the teasing earlier. But from the way Logan’s muscles flex and tense beneath you, you can tell he is too.

“Goddamn,” he growls, his hands moving to grip your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him impossibly faster. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby, so fucking perfect. Don’t stop.”

His words make your head spin, the filthy praise sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands scramble for the front of his shirt, tugging and pulling until it’s loose enough to show off the toned muscle of his chest.

You rake your nails through the dark hair decorating his skin, hardly paying any attention to the brand burned into the skin across his left pec.

"Tell me how it feels," he groans, his voice dark and commanding. "Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel."

"So good," you manage to gasp, your voice breaking as he grinds against that perfect spot inside you. "Logan, I—"

“You’re close,” he rasps, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you harder. “I can feel you, baby. So fuckin’ close. Gonna come for me, aren’t ya? Gonna milk my cock like a good girl?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach clenches, tighter and tighter. Your head lolls back to the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as you near the edge.

"C’mon honey," Logan groans, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, let it all fuckin’ out.”

You're helpless to deny him, the thick stretch of his cock paired with the gentle pressure of his thumb on your clit tightening your body like a bowstring threatening to snap.

“Logan—oh God—Logan!” Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping as your walls shake around him.

Logan’s hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he groans low in his throat. “Goddamn,” he growls, his voice wrecked. “So fuckin’ perfect, squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—”

With a few more rough thrusts, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body going rigid against yours as he finds his own release, groaning your name like it’s the only word he knows.

You slump onto him gracelessly, your body spent and trembling as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His cock jumps and pulses inside you, sending little aftershocks through your sensitive core as you feel the slick spray of his come painting your walls.

The rough fabric of his shirt feels oddly comforting on the overheated skin of your cheek as you rest your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath.

The brand catches your eye again, more pronounced now that the wiry hair dusted along his chest lays flush, slick with a thin sheen of sweat.

You raise your hand, gently tracing over the raised skin, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. A curved ‘X’ scarred right over his heart.

The same ‘X’ that was embroidered on the front of Marie’s shirt, that hangs above the doors of the very barn you lay in, that’s scattered all throughout the property.

You read once that not all cowboys choose the brand, only the most loyal to the ranch. A kind of fierce loyalty that knows no bounds, that has no limits—it may be the only loyalty most will ever know.

You think back to your grandmother sitting you down at her weathered kitchen table a few days before your father and you made the move. The stern talking to she gave you felt silly at the time, useless information that you’d never actually need.

Now that you're here, her words ring in your ears for the first time in months, blaring and unavoidable.

“Don’t go and get mixed up in any cowboy business, honey. They’ll never love you more than the life, you’ll always be in the rearview mirror.”

Logan takes your hand in his, bringing it from his chest to his lips for a quick kiss before pointedly lowering it to his jean clad thigh. You can feel the way his fingers flex around your wrist, telling.

You swallow hard, the air in the barn suddenly feeling thick and heavy.

You're pushing yourself to your feet before you even realize what you're doing, ignoring the dull ache as his spent cock slips from inside you.

Logan hisses at the sensation, but he's pushing himself to his feet all the same. You're dying to sneak a peek at the look on his face, but you refuse to turn to him.

Maybe out of shame, maybe out of fear for what you might find if you do.

You straighten the wrinkled fabric of your dress, trying in vain to make yourself look as half as presentable as you did before walking into this barn.

The distant sound of a zipper being tugged up and the whisper of denim against denim catches your attention. Your eyes flick to the doors, your brain going a million miles a minute as you consider your options.

You could always beat him to it. You could walk out right now and pretend this never happened, avoid Blackbird like the plague for the rest of your fathers political career.

You doubt you'd ever see Logan outside these fences, it would be so easy to forget.

You shift on your feet, lip caught between your teeth. The sweet ache between your legs only matches the one in growing your chest, all those good feelings sour at the thought of walking away.

Against your better judgment, you turn back to him.

Logan’s already looking at you, hands busy with slipping his belt back into place.

You’ve always been good at reading people, at gauging what they might be feeling, but as your eyes scan along the flushed skin of his face, you find yourself unable to describe what you see swirling in his eyes.

“When will I see you again?” It’s weak, barely a whisper. You want to kick yourself for sounding so small, for getting so caught up in a man you hardly know.

Logan lets out a soft breath, hands coming to rest on his hips as he searches for something to say. “Whenever you have a reason to I reckon'.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you.

His answer is honest, unpolished—just like him. Something about it hits you deeper than you expect, a bittersweet sting that tightens your chest.

It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s something.

You try to stomp down all the feelings of hope filling your mind, pointedly ignoring the eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“Well if that’s the case,” you say slowly, eyes never leaving Logan’s as you step closer. “Then I guess you better keep these.”

You reach around his waist to slip your panties in the back pocket of his jeans, patting the denim a few times for good measure before you step away again.

“Gives you a reason to come see me again, cowboy.”

Logan chuckles, soft and sweet as he shakes his head bemusedly. He raises his hand, gently taking his hat from your head to drop it back on his own.

“You’re really somethin’ else,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture tender in its unexpectedness.

You let out a shaky breath, heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, everything feels raw.

Too raw. Like you're teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating, something you’re not sure you’re ready to handle.

You let your gaze drop to the floor, biting the inside of your cheek as you resist the urge to say something else, to push the moment further.

Instead, you turn, taking a slow step toward the barn doors.

Just before you reach them, you hear him again, his voice steady, but there’s something in it that makes you pause, hands lingering on the doorframe.

"Don’t be a stranger, alright?" he calls after you.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: lowkey want to make this a series...like this was so fun to write and i have a few more ideas...let me know chickens <3

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attapullman · 1 year ago

Text

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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rootedinrevisions · 5 months ago

Text

Shattered and Rebuilt

SUMMARY: After a week of poor decisions drifts you and Tyler apart, a life-threatening tornado brings you and Tyler face to face with your deepest fears. Amidst the wreckage of the storm, you discover the vulnerability and love you've been hiding from each other. As you navigate jealousy, insecurity, and past mistakes, you must find a way to rebuild what was almost lost and redefine what it means to be truly vulnerable with each other.

A/N: Thank you so much to @imagine-all-the-fandoms for sending this request in! I know you sent it back in November, and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get it posted. I wrote this and then kept adding more and more to it because I kept coming up with new ideas or ways to develop the story even further. Hopefully you enjoy it! xx

WORD COUNT: 11.9k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hum of Tyler’s red Dodge pickup truck filled the air as the tires crunched over gravel, signaling your arrival at the roadside gast station. Out the window, Oklahoma stretched endlessly, a patchwork of flat fields and distant clouds that carried a whisper of the chaos you were chasing this week.

A “Once in a Lifetime Tornado Outbreak” they had called it. And as soon as Tyler got wind of it, you and the rest of the team were loading up the gear and making your way from Arkansas to Oklahoma.

“All right,” Tyler announced, his voice warm but laced with a slight hint of his usual no-nonsense drawl. “Gas stop. Grab whatever you need ‘cause after this, we’re not stoppin’.”

From your spot in the backseat, you stretched, bumping into Ben, the South London journalist currently occupying your personal space as you were squished between him and some of the gear Tyler kept in the backseat. He shifted awkwardly with an apologetic smile.

"Quite the operation you’ve got here," Ben said, his crisp accent standing out like a sore thumb in this dusty corner of America. "I imagine this stop isn’t just about petrol, though. Snacks are the real fuel, yeah?"

Boone, in the passenger seat, barked out a laugh and twisted around to face us. "Damn straight, mate. Tyler’s got a thing for gas station jerky. Won’t admit it, but he eats that stuff like it’s gourmet."

Tyler shot Boone a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, and you’re one to talk with your armful of chocolate donuts every time we stop. Besides,"—his gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror, locking with yours for just a second too long—"some people come outta these places with enough candy to stock a piñata."

You smirked, leaning forward between the seats so your chin rested on the back of Tyler's shoulder. "Are you saying you have a problem with my impeccable snack choices, Owens?"

He didn’t look at you, but you didn’t miss the twitch of his lips. "Didn’t say that. Just pointin’ out that your ‘impeccable choices’ mean sticky fingers all over my truck."

"Like jerky grease is any better?" You shot back, raising a brow.

Boone groaned, pulling a ball cap down over his face. "Here we go again."

Ben leaned over, amused. "This feels like foreplay, doesn’t it?"

"Ben!" I shot him a look, feeling heat crawl up my neck, but Tyler, ever unflappable, simply chuckled as he parked by the gas pump.

"Y’all are hopeless," Tyler said, pushing open his door. He turned to you, one boot on the pavement and an easy grin playing on his lips. "You comin’, or are you too busy defendin’ your snack habits to stretch your legs?"

"Depends," You said, hopping out of the truck and closing the door with a satisfying slam. "You gonna buy me a drink, or are you just here to trash talk my love of Skittles?"

His eyes glinted under the brim of his weathered Stetson. "That depends. You gonna keep makin’ me regret lettin’ you in my truck, or you finally gonna admit you’d be bored if you rode with Lily?"

You rolled your eyes, tossing Tyler a glance over your shoulder as you headed toward the gas station with Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani in tow. "If I admit it, you’ll never let me live it down. And we can’t have that."

Tyler’s laughter followed you as the glass doors of the gas station swung shut behind you, the cool air blasting away the lingering warmth of the Oklahoma sun. The gas station smelled like cheap coffee and cleaning supplies, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead.

You stood in the candy aisle, staring at the two options of brightly colored Skittles packets as if your life depended on the choice between regular and sour.

"Regular or sour," You muttered under your breath, weighing the pros and cons as if this wasn’t a completely ridiculous debate. Regular was classic, reliable—always good. Sour was bold, unexpected, a little more fun. Your fingers hovered between the two when a glimpse of movement outside the window caught your attention.

You glanced over the top of the shelf, peering out into the midday sun, where Tyler’s familiar figure was strolling across the grassy lot. Your brow furrowed slightly as you followed his path to…her.

She was standing just off to the side of the gas station, her light hair pulled up with a claw clip swaying in the breeze as she gazed out at the horizon. She was new. Or at least you assumed since you’d never seen her. She was apparently tagging along with Storm Par for the week, and while you didn’t know much about her, she seemed okay.

Tyler reached her, and you watched as she turned to him as he said something. He gestured out toward the horizon, his hands moving as he spoke, probably talking about something weather-related.

That was just Tyler—always the helpful one. Always looking out for everyone, wanting to make them feel welcome.

That’s all it was, you told myself. Just him being his usual kind, good-natured self. But then he gave her that smirk. The one that was all effortless charm and made you feel like you were the only person in the world he cared to talk to.

A strange pang stirred in your chest, sharp and sudden, and you quickly looked away.

It’s nothing. You grabbed the bag of regular Skittles off the shelf, hesitated, and grabbed the sour ones too. He’s allowed to talk to whoever he wants. He’s even allowed to flirt with whoever he wants.

Still, the pang lingered as you made your way toward the checkout. Passing the jerky section, you paused, scanning the shelves until you found it—Tyler’s favorite brand and flavor. Without thinking, you grabbed two bags and tucked them under your arm.

At the drink cooler, you slid open the glass door and grabbed two bottles of his usual drink. It was an easy rhythm, something you’d done countless times without a second thought. He’d grumble and tease you about spoiling him, but you always noticed how he’d crack a smile and finish every bite and sip.

By the time you reached the register, your arms were full. Skittles for you, jerky and drinks for Tyler.

You dumped the lot onto the counter, pulling a crumpled twenty out of your pocket as the cashier scanned the items. You focused intently on the cashier’s polite small talk, anything to keep from glancing out the window again.

Because you didn’t care. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling myself.

* * *

The motel’s neon vacancy sign buzzed faintly in the warm night air later that day, casting a faint red glow across the gravel lot where the storm-chasing teams had gathered. Most of the trucks were parked in a line, their roof racks empty, and gear scattered across the lot as repairs and tune-ups were underway.

The hum of your laptop filled the air as you and Dani hunched over the screen. The numbers were staggering.

“Nearly fifty thousand people at one time,” Dani said, leaning closer to the screen. She looked at you with wide eyes and a grin. “This is huge. One of our biggest streams yet.”

“Yeah, we did it,” Boone said from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame.

“Now we gotta figure out how to top it,” Dani smirked, nudging your shoulder. She glanced at you slyly. “Maybe we should give the viewers more of you and Tyler. That always gets people talking.”

You rolled your eyes, though your face heated at the comment. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chatter outside.

“City girl.”

The nickname made your head snap up. You turned toward the roof of the truck, seeing Tyler perched, his hands still fiddling with a piece of equipment as he looked up toward the staircase.

Your gaze followed his line of sight to see Kate— that was her name—standing on the landing of the second-floor staircase. She leaned casually against the railing, looking down at Tyler with a faint, curious smile.

“The cells to the west will choke each other out, she said. The one to the east will put on a show,” Tyler recited, his tone laced with amusement.

“Didn’t throw you off the scent,” Kate replied smoothly, her expression unreadable.

“Hey, that’s what makes Tyler famous,” Boone chimed in, grinning as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“You mean on YouTube?” Kate raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in a barely-there smirk.

Tyler froze for a second, glancing up from the equipment in his hands, and you could almost see the flash of slight irritation in his eyes. He hated when people reduced what he did to just being about clout.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, we’re on the YouTube,” he said, trying to recover with his usual confidence. “We’ve got, what, about a million subscribers now?”

“Yes, sir!” Lily called from across the lot, her voice cheerful as the rest of the group laughed.

“Kate what?” Ben interrupted, scribbling furiously in his notepad. He glanced up at her, pen poised. “Your surname, just in case I include you in my piece.”

Kate hesitated, her posture shifting slightly as if the question made her uncomfortable. “Oh, um, just Kate’s fine,” she said finally.

“She’s a tricky one,” Tyler said, his voice light but teasing.

Boone pointed his finger toward Kate, grinning. “Actually, you made a good call earlier. That eastern cell? It looked stronger, but the cap never broke. You nailed it.”

“Where did you guys all meet?” Kate asked, quickly steering the conversation away from herself. “Did you, uh, study meteorology at the U of A?”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the group. Dani shook her head, Lily and Dexter chuckled, and you stifled a smile.

“No, no,” Boone said, raising a hand. “All right, Kate, me? I just flow with the wind, you know? Never went to, like, school or nothing.” He pointed toward Tyler. “Now, Tyler, though—he studied meteorology.”

“Him?” Kate asked, her tone incredulous as she looked at Tyler.

Tyler simply nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, he’s a cowboy scientist,” Boone continued. “He’s got this natural instinct. Taught me everything I know—”

“Boone,” Tyler interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut Boone off before he said too much. Boone just shrugged. “Our crew’s not like your crew, Kate. We don’t need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do. I guarantee you these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else in this lot combined.”

“Is that right?” Kate said, her tone thick with skepticism.

Tyler leaned back against his truck, lifting a can of Budweiser to his lips. “But if you can keep up, we’ll put you in the episode,” he said with a smirk before taking a slow sip.

“Wow,” Kate replied dryly, her sarcasm thick.

“Where are you chasing tomorrow?” Lily asked, looking up at Kate.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Tyler said, cutting in before Kate could answer. “Not falling for that again. Kate’s from New York. Can’t trust a thing she says.”

Kate shot back without missing a beat. “Well, can always trust a guy who puts his face on a T-shirt.”

The group erupted into laughter, and you glanced over at Tyler, catching the way he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in response to her quick jab.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he’s flustered, you thought, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe he was letting her get to him like this.

* * *

THE NEXT EVENING

The team returned to the motel just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The exhaustion from the day’s chaos was written all over everyone’s faces. After hours of chasing storms, and helping devastated families sift through the rubble of their lives, the weight of it hung heavy in the air. But there was a collective unspoken agreement—you needed to decompress before the next round.

Boone stretched his arms overhead as he leaned against the truck, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Alright, I don’t know about y’all, but I need a drink. There’s a bar down the road that looked promising. Who’s in?”

Dani perked up immediately. “Count me in. I could use a little fun after today.”

Dexter didn’t even hesitate. “I’m game.”

Ben nodded, brushing dust off his shirt. “Sounds nice.”

You glanced at Tyler, who stood off to the side, wiping his hands on a rag after finishing some last-minute adjustments to the equipment. “What about you, Ty? You coming?”

He paused, tossing the rag onto the tailgate before meeting your gaze. “Think I’m gonna sit this one out. Got some old friends from the rodeo circuit in town. Thought I’d swing by and catch up.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, crossing your arms. “You can’t leave me with these guys.” You gestured toward Boone, Dani, Lily, Ben and Dexter, who were already debating what drink to start with. “And besides who’s going to make sure I don’t get into trouble?”

Tyler chuckled, his smile easy but firm. “You’ll be fine. Besides,” he said, pointing a finger at Boone and Dani, “if anyone’s gonna get into trouble, it’s those two.”

You hesitated for a second, then ventured, “I could come with you instead. I don’t mind skipping the bar.”

He shook his head, a soft look in his eyes as he leaned against the truck. “Nah, you go have fun. You earned it.” He smirked. “Just don’t go using my credit card this time. Pay for your own drinks, sweetheart.”

Boone let out a loud laugh. “You hear that, sweetheart? Daddy Tyler says no spending his hard-earned YouTube money!”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as Tyler fought to hide his grin.

“Seriously, though,” Tyler said, his tone lighter but still genuine, “go unwind. You guys deserve it after today. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

With that, he grabbed his hat off the dash and settled it onto his head, giving you one last nod before heading off in his truck. You watched him for a moment as he drove away, the familiar rumble of his engine fading into the night.

“Well,” Boone said, clapping his hands together, “guess it’s just us. Let’s go get a drink.”

You followed the others down the road, but your thoughts lingered on Tyler. Something about the way he’d brushed off your offer to join him left a strange feeling in your chest.

Shaking it off, you decided to focus on the night ahead—Tyler could handle himself, and so could you.

The bar was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and a live band playing a familiar country tune in the corner. Boone and Dexter were deep into a game of darts while Dani and Ben sat at the bar debating their drink choices. You sipped your second drink of the night, enjoying the rare chance to unwind after the chaos of the day.

Just as you started to relax, your phone buzzed on the table. At first, you ignored it, assuming it was some random notification, but the persistent buzz caught your attention. Picking it up, you saw the words that sent a chill through your veins: Tornado Warning: Seek Shelter Immediately.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you quickly opened your weather app. Your fingers moved on autopilot, pulling up the radar. The ominous red box of the warning covered the area around the motel, and the storm cell you saw forming earlier had grown stronger—far stronger.

“Oh, my God,” you muttered, your eyes locking on the radar.

The tornado wasn’t just nearby. It was forming right over the motel and the rodeo.

The others noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “What’s up?” Boone asked, stepping closer as he wiped his hands on his shorts.

“There’s a tornado warning,” you said, your voice tight. “It’s right over the motel—where Tyler is.”

Boone’s face went pale. “Are you sure?”

You spun the screen around to show him. The rotating cell was unmistakable, its path heading straight for where Tyler and the equipment were. “We have to go. Now.”

Ben stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. “Is it normal for one to form that fast like that?”

Dani shook her head and grabbed her phone, already calling Tyler, but the call went straight to voicemail.

“He’s not picking up,” she said, her voice edged with panic.

You grabbed your keys, adrenaline surging as you bolted toward the exit. “We can’t wait. We need to get to him and warn him before it touches down.”

The group rushed outside, the once-clear night now eerily still. The wind had picked up, and the air carried that unmistakable electric charge that came before a storm. Clouds swirled above, illuminated by flashes of lightning.

As you all piled into Boone’s van, your hands shook, not just from fear but from the overwhelming thought of Tyler being caught in the middle of it. You could only hope he’d noticed the signs in time to take cover, but with the storm forming so quickly, the chances felt slim.

Just minutes later the van screeched to a halt in front of the motel, and all you could do was stare at the scene before you. The motel looked like a warzone. The roof had caved in on one side, chunks of debris littering the parking lot. A power line was down, sparking dangerously near the edge of the lot. The neon motel sign flickered weakly, barely clinging to life.

Your breath caught when you saw Tyler’s truck. The hood and windshield were buried under a pile of rubble. But it was there.

He’s here.

Without waiting for the others, you threw the door open and bolted out into the night. Boone’s voice called after you, but it was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Tyler! Tyler!” you shouted, your voice cracking as you scanned the wreckage. You tripped over a piece of broken siding but barely noticed, your eyes darting frantically through the chaos. “Tyler!”

And then, through the haze of rain and debris, you saw movement by the pool. A figure emerged, soaked to the bone and covered in dirt, but unmistakably him.

Tyler.

Your feet moved on instinct, the world around you a blur as you sprinted toward him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Each step felt impossibly long, the distance between you and him stretching endlessly even as you pushed yourself harder. The rain soaked through your clothes, stinging your skin as debris crunched beneath your feet, but none of it mattered. All you could see was him, standing there, alive.

When you reached him, you didn’t slow down. Your body collided with his, and your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him with everything you had. It was as if letting go would make him vanish, as if the storm might take him from you after all.

“Tyler,” you choked out, your voice thick with relief and fear. Your fingers dug into his soaked shirt, gripping it like it was your lifeline.

His arms came around you immediately, strong and steady, pulling you against him with a quiet desperation. You could feel the warmth of his skin beneath the chill of his wet clothes, the solid reassurance of his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands splayed across your back, holding you tightly, as though he needed the contact as much as you did.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the tremor in it. His breath was warm against your temple as he pressed his cheek to your head, his lips grazing your hair. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m fine. I promise.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face against his neck, the faint scent of rain and dirt clinging to him. “I thought—” Your words caught in your throat, a sob threatening to break free. “I thought I lost you.”

He pulled you even closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. “You didn’t,” he said softly, his voice firm and steady now, as if willing you to believe it. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

The strength in his embrace felt like a shield against everything—the storm, the fear, the chaos. In that moment, nothing else existed. It was just you and him, the rest of the world fading into a dull hum.

Finally, you pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands still clutching his arms. His green eyes met yours, and you saw a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable. Rain dripped from his hair, streaking down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His focus was entirely on you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. His hands stayed on you, one at your waist, the other brushing lightly against your shoulder. The air between you felt heavy, charged with emotions too raw to name.

Then a voice broke through the moment. “Kate! Are you okay?” Dani called out, her voice carrying across the rubble.

You turned your head, and your stomach dropped. There, climbing out of the pool behind Tyler, was Kate. She was just as soaked, her hair plastered to her face, and she looked shaken but unharmed. Behind her, a mother and her young daughter emerged as well, both clutching each other tightly.

Your chest tightened. Kate was with him?

You looked back at Tyler, and something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe, or concern. You couldn’t tell.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost afraid of the answer.

“I’ll explain later,” he said, his tone even but weary. His arms loosened around you, and he took a small step back, his gaze shifting briefly to Kate and the others.

You felt Boone’s hand on your shoulder as he and the others caught up. Dani and Lily rushed to check on Kate and the mother and daughter, their voices buzzing with questions.

But you couldn’t focus on them. Your eyes stayed on Tyler, searching his face for something—an answer, an explanation, anything to quiet the unease now gnawing at you.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, a pale glow stretching across the room and nudging you awake. The sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand pulled you the rest of the way from sleep. With a groggy groan, you rolled over and grabbed it, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

It was a text in the group chat, from Tyler.

“Not looking like an active day for storms. You guys take the day off, relax a little. I’ll be back later—gotta go do something.”

You stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times. There were no details, no clues about where he was going or what he needed to do. Just that vague statement—gotta go do something. It was so typically Tyler, giving just enough information to let you know he’d be fine, but not enough to satisfy your curiosity.

A faint pang of unease settled in your chest. After everything that had happened yesterday, you weren’t sure you liked the idea of him heading off on his own, even if the radar was clear. But Tyler wasn’t the type to sit still when something was on his mind.

The group chat pinged again. Boone was the first to respond. “Copy that. Holler if you need backup.”

Dani chimed in next. “What’s the plan for later? We still grilling? Going into town? Let us know!”

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to ask Tyler where he was going, but you stopped yourself. If he wanted to tell you, he would have.

Instead, you sent a quick reply. “Okay. Be safe, Tyler.”

The unease didn’t fade as you set your phone back down and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but wonder what it was he needed to do—and why he felt like he had to do it alone.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY

The next afternoon, you still hadn’t heard from Tyler. His silence gnawed at you more than you cared to admit. You told yourself he was fine—that if something had gone wrong, someone would have heard about it by now. But that didn’t stop your mind from replaying yesterday’s text or the way he’d disappeared without a word.

When your phone lit up with his name, your stomach did a little flip. For a second, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. You wanted to answer. You wanted to hear his voice, to ask him where he’d been and what the hell he’d been doing for the past day and a half. But you didn’t.

With a frustrated sigh, you let the call go to voicemail and tossed your phone onto the bed.

Boone raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting across the room, scrolling through weather models. “Was that Tyler?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“Why didn’t you pick up?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “He disappeared for a day and a half without telling anyone. He can wait a little longer.”

Boone didn’t push it, but the look he gave you said he didn’t quite buy your indifference.

It wasn’t long after that when Lily’s phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen, then at you. “It’s Tyler.”

Your stomach twisted as she answered, putting him on speaker.

“Tyler?” she said.

“Hey, Lil,” came his familiar voice, sounding calm and easy, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “I need your help with something.”

“Where are you?” Lily asked, her tone more concerned than yours had been.

“I’m a few hours away. We’re headed to a trailer dealership outside of town. I’ll send you the address.”

There was a pause as Lily glanced at you, her eyebrows raised. Boone leaned forward, curious.

“What are you doing at a trailer dealership?” Lily asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

“I’ll explain when you get here,” Tyler said, his tone giving nothing away. “Can you come?”

Lily sighed and looked to you, Boone, and the others for input. When you didn’t say anything, Boone nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I’ll text you the address.”

When the call ended, Lily turned to you. “So, are we going?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. As annoyed as you were with him, you couldn’t ignore the slight urgency in his voice—or the curiosity bubbling up inside you.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Let’s go see what this is about.”

The team pulled into the dealership parking lot, the mid-afternoon sun glaring off the rows of shiny new trailers. Your stomach twisted with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as Boone parked the van.

“Is that… Kate?” Lily said, squinting toward the far side of the lot.

You followed her gaze, and sure enough, there she was—climbing out of Tyler’s truck. Your breath hitched. Tyler was already walking around to meet her, his familiar, easy smile plastered on his face as they exchanged a few words.

Boone let out a low whistle, smirking as he glanced over at you. “Well, well, well. Looks like Kate’s the new partner-in-crime.”

“Relax,” you said quickly, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Dani chimed in, her tone teasing as she leaned over the seat to get a better look. “Because it kinda seems like it is.”

“Guys, come on,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing despite your best efforts.

“You’re totally jealous,” Boone added with a grin.

“I’m not jealous,” you shot back, maybe a little too quickly.

Boone and Dani exchanged knowing looks, but you ignored them, crossing your arms as you watched Tyler and Kate make their way over.

When Tyler reached you, his expression softened, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Hey,” you replied, your tone guarded as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

“I’m sorry for disappearing yesterday,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “I should’ve told you where I was going.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine. I wasn’t upset.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering like he didn’t quite believe you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, looking away. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t. Not really. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly. It was the sting of realizing you didn’t mean as much to him as you thought you did. You’d always assumed the team was more than just a group of storm chasers to Tyler, that you were family. His silence, his absence, had left a hollow ache in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Tyler didn’t press the issue, but the way his lips pressed into a thin line told you he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“So,” Boone said, breaking the tension as he stepped forward, clapping Tyler on the shoulder. “What’s with the trailer dealership?”

A grin spread across Tyler’s face, his previous seriousness melting away.

“Follow me,” he said, motioning for you all to follow him.

As the group trailed behind, you couldn’t help but glance back at Kate. She was chatting with Lily about the drone, her smile bright and easy, and you hated the way it made your chest tighten. Shaking your head, you focused on Tyler, determined not to let your insecurities get the best of you.

The energy in the group shifted after Tyler and Kate’s arrival at the dealership. While everyone seemed excited about the new trailer and the possibilities Kate’s glorified science experiment brought, you couldn’t shake the knot in your chest. The idea of Kate tagging along, so comfortable around Tyler, and his seeming indifference to the team yesterday had left you feeling off-kilter.

You stayed back, letting the others crowd around Tyler and pepper him with questions about Kate’s experiment. You only half-listened, nodding absently when someone directed a comment your way.

Tyler glanced at you a few times, his eyes narrowing in quiet concern, but you avoided his gaze, pretending to be preoccupied with your phone or the horizon.

The drive back to regroup was tense in your own head. When Boone brought up seating arrangments now that Kate was traveling with the team, you quickly volunteered to ride with Lily in the van.

“Whoa, breaking tradition?” Boone teased as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You always ride with Tyler.”

“I figured she could use some company for once,” you said lightly, keeping your tone casual even as you avoided Dani’s raised brow.

Tyler didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you from across the parking lot as you climbed into the van.

The day unfolded like a blur. The forecast showed a massive storm system moving in, with conditions that could easily spawn tornadoes. There wasn’t much time for idle chatter as everyone scrambled to prep equipment and finalize routes. You busied yourself with anything that kept you moving, anything that didn’t involve standing still long enough for Tyler to corner you with questions.

He tried a couple of times, calling your name softly as you passed, but you brushed him off with hurried excuses. “Sorry, I need to grab this,” or “Let me double-check the radar first.”

Tyler wasn’t one to push, but the way his jaw tightened each time you slipped away told you he noticed.

By the time the team split into vehicles to chase the storm, the air was thick with tension—not just from the impending weather, but from whatever had shifted between you and Tyler.

“You sure you don’t want to switch back?” Boone asked as you climbed into the passenger seat of the van.

“I’m good,” you said, forcing a smile.

From the side mirror, you caught a glimpse of Tyler in his truck. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the road ahead.

The storm loomed dark on the horizon, a swirling mass of gray and green that promised chaos. You focused on the task at hand, pushing everything else to the back of your mind. Whatever conversation Tyler wanted to have would have to wait—assuming he still wanted to have it after today.

The storm had reached its peak intensity, and you were well aware of it. The air was thick with tension, but it wasn’t just from the storm—it was from everything that had been building between you and Tyler over the past days. But that was all drowned out by the noise of the wind, the clattering of debris, and the sound of the storm tearing through the world around you.

The team had done everything they could to guide people to shelter. You were now in the theater with the others, feeling the tremors of the wind pushing against the walls, the heavy sounds of destruction that seemed to grow louder by the second. It was chaos—people crying out, the wailing of the sirens, and the unrelenting storm closing in fast.

You’d just seen Tyler heading toward Kate, and the pang in your chest was sharper than before, but before you could even process it, the ceiling above you gave way. A deafening crash followed by an intense, blinding flash of debris. The next thing you knew, you were on the floor, trapped beneath the wreckage. The weight of it made it hard to breathe, and panic set in as you struggled to move, only to realize you were pinned down.

"Tyler!" you screamed out, his name being the first thing that came to your brain. But you barely heard your own voice over the wind outside was deafening, the sound of the tornado ripping apart everything in its path—closer now, just outside the building. You knew he probably wouldn't hear you.

The world around you felt like it was collapsing, and the reality of it hit hard. This wasn’t a close call. You were in the storm’s path, and you had no idea if you’d make it out. Your chest tightened as you cried, helpless.

You were terrified—scared out of your mind—and the thought that this was how your life would end, trapped here under rubble with nothing you could do, made you feel utterly alone.

Then you felt a hand. His hand. You knew it without having to look. His strong, warm hand took yours, and everything in you instantly calmed just a fraction.

“Tyler, please—go find something to hold onto!” you managed to shout.

Tyler’s voice, loud but distant, called out to you through the noise, his words a lifeline. “I’m not leaving you.”

The wind howled, tearing through the air with force, and the walls of the theater groaned. But Tyler’s grip never wavered, his hand wrapping tighter around yours, holding you in place. His other hand reached out and wrapped around the metal chair leg next to you, anchoring himself as best as he could to something solid, something that could keep you both from being swept away.

You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. The storm was closing in, its fury pressing down on the entire town, and you knew that at any moment it could sweep through the building and tear you apart.

It was a sickening feeling—waiting, knowing that every second might be your last. But as you lay there, thoughts of what could have been surged inside you. All the things you’d never get to do with Tyler, all the feelings you’d never be able to express if this was truly the end of your life. You saw flashes of what a life together might have looked like: a first date that you’d spent months fantasizing about, a wedding, a family. You’d never even gotten the chance to tell him how you felt.

And then, in the quietest moment, you turned your head toward him. His face was intense, focused, trying to keep you safe. You locked eyes, and you knew—this was your moment, even if it seemed impossible.

“I love you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with emotion.

But the wind was too loud, the storm too ferocious. He couldn’t hear you over the chaos. He glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “What?” he yelled back, his face a mask of confusion.

You shook your head, frustrated, heart pounding, but there was no use in trying to say it again. The storm was too loud, and you could barely catch your breath.

But at least you said it. Even if it was in the middle of this madness, even if he couldn’t hear you. You said it. And that was enough.

You squeezed his hand harder, letting the feeling of it fill you. You were scared, yes, but you weren’t alone anymore. Tyler was there. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get you through. Or at least let you die in peace knowing that the one person you loved most was with you when you took your last breath.

The storm passed as suddenly as it had come, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in its wake. The deafening roar of the wind disappeared, and for a moment, the world felt still—too still after everything. You blinked, disoriented, the faint ringing in your ears slowly fading, and then the reality of the situation set in. Boone and Dexter were kneeling beside you, their voices sounding distant at first, then clearer as they checked on you.

"Are you okay?" Boone's voice was sharp, urgent, but also full of concern.

You tried to speak, but your throat was raw. Instead, you muttered Tyler’s name, your breath coming in shallow gasps. His hand—his warmth—was gone. And that instant panic surged again. You reached for where his hand had been, but the space was empty. You looked around, your eyes darting, searching for him.

“T-Tyler. Is he—?” Your heart skipped, the thought barely finished before it threatened to break you. Were you alone again? Had you been abandoned in this moment of chaos?

Boone and Dexter exchanged a quick glance before assuring you, "He’s fine. He’s okay." They both turned their heads to glance at Tyler, who was standing at the front of the theater, his body tense, scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone.

You felt your pulse calm just slightly. He was alive, and that was something. But then, the silence between the men and you stretched long, and your chest tightened again. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the weight of the last few minutes of your life flashing before you.

But as they started to help remove the debris from you, trying to free you from the mess of broken wood and metal, you couldn’t help but watch Tyler.

For a second, you held on to the hope that he’d come over, that he would check on you. You had been through hell together in the last few minutes. You thought, maybe, just maybe, he’d come running to you now, just like he did during the storm. You waited, your body aching, heart racing, trying to ignore the pain as you glanced over at him, your chest tight with anticipation.

But that hope shattered as soon as you saw him climb onto the stage, his attention locked outside, and without a glance in your direction, he bolted for the exit. Your heart dropped like a stone in your chest. He didn’t even hesitate, not even for a second. He and Javi rushed out, their voices barely audible as they called for Kate, their shouts cutting through the stillness.

The silence in the theater felt deafening, and it echoed in your head as your world seemed to spin. In that moment, it hit you like a punch to the gut. Tyler hadn’t even looked back at you before running to her. All the things you thought you had between you, all the moments you’d shared that made you believe you were more than just a passing person in his life… none of it seemed to matter.

Tyler was gone, running after someone else.

Your vision blurred, your knees buckled, and your body felt weightless as everything you’d been holding back came crashing down. A sob broke free from your chest, a sound so raw and painful that it felt like it was tearing you apart. You couldn’t even catch your breath before your legs gave way entirely.

Before you hit the ground, Boone’s arms were there, catching you. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his grip strong around your shoulders. But his words were drowned out by the sound of your heart shattering.

It felt like the world had closed in around you, like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All you could do was fall, over and over again. You wished, for just a moment, that Tyler would have come to you. But it was too late now.

And as Boone gently helped you back up, you couldn’t shake the feeling that a piece of you had just been lost forever.

* * *

The paramedic’s voice was a soft hum in the background, but all you could focus on was the sharp ache in your chest. They had checked your vitals—pulse, blood pressure, everything. You had a slight concussion, they said, but nothing too serious. Some cuts, bruises, and a few scratches, nothing compared to what could have happened. You nodded along with the questions, but your mind was elsewhere, and your gaze kept flickering to the ambulance beside you.

Kate was on the stretcher. Her eyes were closed, and Tyler stood beside her, speaking in a calm tone to the paramedic who was tending to the cut on her head. He was focused on her—his attention so completely on her that it felt like the world around you shrank. Your heart fell, almost as if it were being dragged down into your stomach.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, the ache inside growing stronger with every passing second. The images from the past few days started to replay in your mind. Tyler, always by her side. The way he complimented her ideas, how he seemed to listen to her like he had no other cares in the world. How he just... dropped everything to help her, as if she were the only one who mattered.

And now, even after everything—after the storm, after the danger he’d been in right alongside you—here he was, tending to her. He hadn't even come to check on you.

It felt like the last little thread that had been holding you together snapped.

You looked down at your hands, fingers trembling as you tried to push the thoughts away. Why does it hurt so much? You had no right to feel jealous or upset. Kate was a part of the team now, and Tyler was always protective of everyone.

But something in you felt like it wasn’t just about the tornado. It was about the way he kept gravitating toward her in a way he never did with you.

It wasn’t just the storm anymore. It wasn’t just the crisis. It was... something more. Something you hadn’t wanted to admit. The realization settled like a stone in your chest. You had cared for him, and you still did. More than you’d let yourself believe, more than you could let go of. But he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He wasn’t thinking of you when things got complicated. He was looking at Kate, helping her, being there for her, even now.

A wave of bitterness washed over you, but you couldn’t make yourself leave. You didn’t know if you wanted to be near him or as far away as possible, but all you could do was sit there, watching him talk to her as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

Lily’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, her tone gentle but full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?” She’s standing nearby, her arms crossed, her eyes searching your face, sensing the distance in your gaze.

You force a small nod, but it’s not enough to convince anyone, not even yourself. You swallow, trying to push down the tightness in your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little... tired, I guess.”

Dani, who’s standing with Lily, watches you for a beat before speaking up, her voice a little quieter now. “Are you sure? You’ve been through a lot, you don’t have to push yourself.”

You shake your head again, feeling the weight of everything pressing on you—everything you’d been ignoring. “I think... I think I need a break.” The words slip out before you can stop them. “Maybe it’s time I head home. Take a step back from everything. Sit the next few chases out, you know? Take a few weeks off...maybe longer even.”

Lily exchanges a look with Dani, but they both nod, understanding. It’s not like they hadn’t noticed how distant you’d been, how quiet you’d grown since the storm.

Dani gives your shoulder a light squeeze, trying to offer comfort without pushing too hard. “You do what you need to do,” she says softly. “We’ll hold down the fort here.”

Before you can respond, you hear Tyler’s voice from behind you. You don’t have to turn to know it’s him, the way his footsteps slow as he approaches, the weight of his presence so familiar it almost hurts. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?”

Your chest tightens. You want to look at him, to tell him everything that’s been swirling around inside you since the storm. But all you can do is shake your head. “I’m really tired, Tyler. I think I’m just going to head back to the motel. You should stay with Kate. Make sure she’s okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

His eyes lock onto you, the regret and confusion in them almost enough to make you change your mind. Almost. But you can’t do it. You can’t have that conversation with him now, not when it feels like everything is unraveling at once.

Tyler opens his mouth to say something, but then stops himself. He takes a breath, clearly fighting the urge to press, to make you listen to him. Instead, his shoulders slump slightly, and he nods, his voice quieter now. “Okay... I’ll... I’ll check in on you later.”

You force yourself to look at him, your heart aching as you meet his gaze. There’s so much you want to say, but all that comes out is a soft, “Thanks.”

You turn away before you can see his reaction, before you can see the disappointment or confusion written across his face. You walk toward the back of the ambulance, the air around you feeling heavier with each step. You know this is what you need, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Tyler doesn’t chase you this time. And maybe that’s what hurts the most.

Tyler watches you retreat into the distance, his heart heavy, something gnawing at him that he can’t quite put into words. He exhales sharply, his mind racing, but he tries to push it aside for the moment, turning toward Lily and Dani, who are still standing a few feet away.

“Is she okay?” Tyler asks, trying to mask the tension in his voice, but the question falls flat. His eyes shift between the two of them, but neither of them meet his gaze immediately.

Lily sighs, crossing her arms, her expression a little more intense than usual. "Are you really asking that, Tyler?" she says, her tone laced with a mix of frustration and concern. "You’ve been... oblivious, man. It's clear what’s going on. You’ve been hurting her.”

Dani steps forward, her brow furrowed. "You think she’s just fine? After everything she’s been through, and after all this time? She's been into you, Tyler. It’s obvious, and you’ve been... distant. All week."

Tyler’s chest tightens at her words. His stomach sinks with the realization, as if the weight of it all finally lands on him. He looks away, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts running in circles. Distant? Has he really been that blind? His gaze flickers back to where you’d disappeared, and a heavy sigh escapes him.

He thinks back to the past few days, the way he’d been caught up in whatever this thing with Kate had become—just... busy. He hadn’t meant to pull away from you. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how often he’d been preoccupied with her, how often his focus had shifted, and how often he’d ignored you in the process.

And then, his mind flashes back to the theater. To you, trapped and terrified, and how his heart had pounded in his chest just being by your side. He had held your hand, clung to it like his life depended on it. And in that moment, he felt like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He could still feel the warmth of your touch, the way your hand had fit so perfectly in his, like it was always meant to be that way. He had been so focused on getting through the storm, keeping you safe, that he hadn’t heard you when you shouted, but there was something in the way you looked at him before the wind swallowed everything up.

Something he didn’t catch then... but he swore he saw your lips move. I love you.

His heart stutters at the thought. He’d read your lips. He’d seen it, and yet... he never said anything, never gave you a chance to tell him in a way that could’ve mattered. The weight of it presses down on him now, his mind spinning with the missed opportunity, and the fear of losing you in ways that don’t have anything to do with storms.

The urgency to fix this suddenly takes over. He can’t let you leave like this. Not without trying, not without giving you something—anything to show that he sees you, that he gets it, that he doesn’t want to let you go without telling you what’s been building inside of him.

"I’ve gotta fix this," he mutters to himself, more to his own conscience than to anyone else.

Lily nods, her expression softening just slightly. “You’d better. She deserves to know how you feel before you let her slip away.”

Tyler doesn’t need any more encouragement. He starts moving toward the ambulance where you’d gone, his heart beating harder now. He won’t let it end like this. He can’t.

You'd said you'd talk to him tomorrow. But tomorrow isn’t soon enough for Tyler.

* * *

BACK AT THE MOTEL

You stand frozen for a moment, the knock on your door taking you by surprise. You weren't expecting him—weren't sure you even wanted him to show up. But when you peer through the peephole and see Tyler standing there, looking almost apologetic, your chest tightens. The emotions from the past few days swirl around you—hurt, confusion, and a trace of something else you didn’t want to acknowledge: hope.

You stand there for a beat, considering what to do. Should you let him in? You feel a little too vulnerable, too exposed. But then you hear his voice through the door, low and sincere.

“Please, just give me a chance to explain, darlin’.”

Your heart stirs, but your frustration, the pain of feeling ignored, holds you back. You sigh and open the door, mentally preparing yourself to face him.

“Tyler—” you start, your voice tinged with everything you’ve been holding in, but he cuts you off before you can say anything more.

Without warning, he reaches up, his hand gentle but firm as it cups your face. Your breath catches in your throat as his lips meet yours in a kiss that catches you completely off guard. It’s soft at first, hesitant, as if he’s testing the waters, but then, as if something inside of him snaps when you don't pull away, it deepens, becoming urgent, almost desperate.

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you into the room, walking you backward as the door falls shut with a soft thud behind him. The kiss never breaks, and the moment is so intense, so full of emotion, that it takes every bit of your willpower not to melt into him entirely. His hands slide down your back, pressing you closer to him, while your own hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if you need to anchor yourself.

Tyler pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is ragged, his eyes searching yours, full of regret and something more.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been so stupid, so blind to how much I’ve hurt you. But I need you to know... I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You mean more to me than anything else, and I can’t let you leave thinking otherwise.”

You feel his lips brush against your jaw, trailing soft, warm kisses down your neck. Your breath hitches at the sensation, your heart pounding in your chest. The intensity of it all swirls inside of you—the confusion, the hurt, the aching desire to believe him. But there’s a part of you still hesitant, still unsure.

“Tyler…” you breathe, trying to pull back just enough to make eye contact, but he kisses your neck, whispering apologies and promises against your skin. “You’ve hurt me. All week… you’ve been…. I thought—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder. “I know I hurt you, and I never meant to. I’ve been an idiot, and I’m asking for a second chance. A real chance to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The raw sincerity in his voice, the way his hands hold you as if he’s terrified you’ll slip away, makes your heart flutter despite the ache in your chest. He’s here. Right now, he’s here, trying to make things right.

“I’ve been a fool,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin once more. “But I can’t lose you. Please, forgive me. Let me make it right.”

You close your eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over you, feeling the weight of everything between you two in that single breath. You want to believe him. You want to feel what he’s offering, but the fear of getting hurt again lingers.

But in that moment, with him so close, his presence surrounding you, your heart softens just enough to let him in. Your hands slide to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss—one that’s slow and full of unspoken understanding.

The moment Tyler pulls back just enough to speak, you catch your breath, eyes locked with his as your heart races. His arm slips around your back, pulling you in even closer, his touch possessive but gentle. You feel the heat of his body against yours, the tension between you palpable.

“Jump,” he says, his voice low, urgent.

You hesitate for a brief second, the heat of the moment overwhelming you, but you do as he asks. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold on to him tightly. In one fluid motion, he lifts you effortlessly, his grip firm and confident, one hand on your back while the other moves down to your ass, helping to steady you. The way he holds you makes you feel small, protected, and undeniably wanted, and it makes your chest tighten with a mix of desire and something softer, something more vulnerable.

With ease, he carries you across the room, his steps steady as he approaches the bed. As he lays you down gently, you catch your breath again, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. The weight of everything—the past few days, the uncertainty, the rawness of the moment—it all lingers in the air between you.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you don’t look away. “I’m still mad at you,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach.

Tyler’s gaze softens, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, just studies you with that same intensity that’s been there all along. “I know,” he says, his voice low, sincere.

Before you can respond, he leans back in, his lips capturing yours once again. This time, the kiss is different. It’s not just apologetic or desperate. It’s full of promises—unspoken words, a connection you’ve both been fighting to acknowledge. His lips are warm against yours, and you melt into it, losing yourself in the sensation, the depth of the emotion between you.

His hand moves to your face, brushing back a strand of hair as he deepens the kiss, each movement slow and deliberate. You can feel the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid pressing between you, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the now, the feeling of his body against yours, the way his hands move with intention, as if he’s trying to make up for everything he’s missed.

As the kiss deepens, Tyler’s hands begin to move with purpose, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers slide down your sides, brushing against the soft fabric of your t-shirt. You can feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips leave yours, trailing down to your jaw, then your neck, each kiss a quiet declaration.

His hands grip the bottom of your shirt, tugging it gently as his lips continue their descent, kissing along your collarbone, and then lower, just above your stomach. You can’t help but gasp softly at the sensation, your breath hitching as his lips move slowly, deliberately, pressing light kisses between the curve of your breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, his voice a low murmur, the words vibrating against your body like a promise. “God, you’re perfect.”

He pushes the fabric higher, inch by inch, his lips following the trail as if memorizing every inch of you. Your skin tingles under the heat of his kisses, and you feel the overwhelming pull of desire tighten in your chest. He moves with a careful, almost reverent pace, as though he’s savoring this moment with you, drawing it out.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he breathes against your skin, his hands now lifting your shirt higher, his eyes drinking in every curve, every movement of your body as he works it over your head, leaving you bare under his touch.

His lips trail upward, kissing you again—softer this time, but with just as much intensity as before. You feel his warmth, his presence, his need in every touch, every whispered word. His hands move gently over your body, as if reminding you that you’re not just wanted, you’re wanted deeply.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with the raw sincerity you’ve longed to hear.

You start to undo the buttons on Tyler’s flannel, your fingers brushing against his chest with each movement. His skin feels warm, a contrast to the cold air around you, but you’re too focused on him to notice anything else. His breath hitches slightly when you reach the last button, and he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes as you move your hands to tug it off his shoulders.

The moment the shirt falls to the floor, you reach for the white tank top underneath, eager to see more of him. Tyler leans back slightly, his lips curling into a smirk that melts away any hesitation you might have had. With a smooth motion, he lifts it over his head, revealing his bare torso to you.

Your eyes immediately follow the muscles that line his chest and stomach, the way his abs ripple slightly with every breath, and the trail of dark hair leading downward.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing over the dusting of hair on his chest. The connection feels electric, and you can’t help but marvel at the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, everything about him drawing you in. Your hands trail down, and you can feel the pulse in your fingertips as they brush the waistband of his jeans. Without hesitation, you reach for his belt, your fingers working quickly to undo it, your heart pounding louder with every moment.

Tyler’s eyes lock onto yours, and he watches you with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. “You’re killing me, you know that, sweetheart?” he mutters, voice rough with desire.

His hands are at his sides, waiting, the energy between you both crackling with anticipation. The space between you both feels charged, and you can sense he’s just as eager to see where this moment takes you as you are.

You continue your movements, unbuckling his belt, slowly but steadily, until it’s free. The moment is slow, deliberate—your body aching to feel his against yours.

Tyler’s hands are gentle as he reaches for you again, his fingers brushing against your skin with an almost reverent touch. There’s no rush in the way he moves, only a quiet assurance that makes your heart race. His eyes lock with yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you only find warmth and something deeper—something that has been growing between you for days, for weeks, maybe even longer.

He slowly unclasps your bra, his touch light but firm, as if he’s giving you space to decide, to feel comfortable in this moment. As it slides off, you feel exposed, but not in a way that makes you want to retreat. Instead, you feel seen, truly seen, for the first time in a long while. Tyler’s gaze never wavers from yours as he guides your jeans down, his hands steady, but there’s a softness in them that matches the way his eyes soften when they meet yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with something raw, something unspoken. His words hang in the air between you, and you find your breath catching in your throat. It’s not just the physicality of the moment that feels intimate, but the sincerity behind his words.

As he slides your jeans off, he pauses, his hands resting lightly on your bare skin. He lets out a soft sigh, not in impatience, but in awe of how everything feels so right.

When you’re left in nothing but your panties, Tyler takes a step back for a moment. He looks at you as though trying to commit every detail to memory, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only admiration and something more—something tender that makes your heart flutter.

And when you look at him, really look at him, you see more than just the strong, muscular form in front of you. You see the man who’s been there for you, the one who makes you feel safe, cherished, and—maybe for the first time in a long while—truly desired.

Tyler’s fingers brush your cheek gently as he kneels in front of you. “You don’t have to rush this,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with understanding. “We take it one step at a time. Only if you’re ready.”

You take a breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. There’s no more hesitation, no more uncertainty—just a quiet, steady confidence that you feel in your bones. As you look into Tyler’s eyes, the connection between you feels stronger than ever, a bond forged through everything you’ve been through together.

“I want you, Tyler,” you say, your voice steady, even though your heart is pounding in your chest.

A smile spreads across his face, tender and genuine. His eyes soften, and for a split second, you see something vulnerable there—a rawness that only you’ve seen. Without a word, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that says everything you need to hear. He pulls back just slightly, his hand cupping your cheek.

Tyler takes a step back to finish undressing the rest of the way. His movements are deliberate but unhurried, as though savoring the moment. You watch him, your heart racing, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts, but in this moment, all that matters is him—his closeness, the way his presence fills the space between you.

He stands before you, bare and vulnerable, just like you, and there’s no shame, no fear. There’s just you and him, together in this quiet intimacy, and it feels like everything has finally clicked into place.

Tyler moves back to you, his hands gentle as he reaches for you once more. He pulls you closer, his body flush against yours, and the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

"I don't have a condom, sweetheart."

"I'm clean. And as long as you are, I don't mind. I'm on birth control."

"I'm clean, sweetheart."

As Tyler slowly moves closer, you feel the intensity between you, the emotions that are thick in the air. Everything about this moment feels different, more profound than anything you’ve experienced before.

When he finally slides inside of you, it’s not just physical—it’s as if everything aligns. The way his eyes never leave yours, the way he holds you with such tenderness, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every breath you take.

It feels like he’s giving you a piece of him—his vulnerability, his trust, his love. The connection between you two isn’t just about the act, but about something deeper, something you both crave. This is more than just sex. It’s making love, it’s the two of you sharing something raw, unspoken, and powerful.

The slow, deliberate rhythm between you two feels like it’s meant to last forever. His hands are gentle but firm, guiding you closer to him, pulling you into him with such care that it takes your breath away. Every movement, every soft kiss, every whisper in your ear—it’s all full of love. It’s like he’s telling you, without words, that he’s here, he’s not going anywhere, and that he wants you in every way possible.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locked, and you see everything in them. Desire. Affection. A deep, undeniable connection that’s been building between you for so long. When he looks at you like this, you feel seen. You feel cherished, loved, and completely accepted for who you are.

His lips brush against your forehead, soft and tender, as if to reassure you, and you lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. You let yourself surrender to him, to the love he’s offering. It’s the most vulnerable, intimate thing you’ve ever done, and you can’t help but feel completely safe in his arms.

You know, in this moment, that nothing else matters but the two of you. And for once, you feel like you belong—fully, entirely—right here, with him.

As you and Tyler lay there in the aftermath, the room feels still, the air thick with the emotions that linger between you. You both lay in the warmth of each other’s arms, your bodies entwined under the sheets. He holds you close, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back, and you feel the rise and fall of his breath like a soothing rhythm, grounding you.

Tyler presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there as he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

His voice is low, tender, almost like a whisper, as he speaks, “I love you.”

The words feel like a promise, like they’ve been waiting to be spoken for so long, and now they’re finally free.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze as you settle into the comfort of his embrace. His eyes are full of vulnerability, and you can feel the rawness of everything he’s just shared with you.

He continues, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve been so caught up in helping Kate and trying to figure out this theory and experiment with her... but I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his honesty settle in your chest. “I didn’t know where I stood with you.” You admit in a whisper. “The way you’ve been spending so much time with her... I just couldn’t help but feel like I was losing you.”

Tyler gently tilts your chin up with his finger, guiding your face toward his as he presses a tender kiss to your lips, slow and full of reassurance. “You haven’t lost me,” he says, his voice thick with sincerity. “I've always been yours. You’re the only one I want, the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

A rush of warmth floods through you at his words, and you close your eyes, letting the vulnerability between you both fill the space. You nestle into him, your head resting on his chest. His hand moves gently through your hair as he continues, “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry. I should have been more open with you. You mean everything to me. Do you think you could ever give me a chance?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you hear him speak so honestly. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear those words, how much you needed him to understand how deeply you cared.

You bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his arm as you whisper back, “Don't mess it up, Tyler. Because I love you, Tyler. I really do...and I don't think I'd survive if you broke my heart.”

He squeezes you tighter, his arms enveloping you with a warmth that makes everything else feel small. “I love you too,” he whispers back, his voice rough with emotion. "And believe me, I've got no intentions of breaking your heart...just maybe changing your last name."

As you begin to drift off, the quiet hum of the room and the steady beat of Tyler’s heart fill the space between you. But then, he breaks the silence, his voice soft and warm as he speaks.

“Hey,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. You look up, meeting his gaze, and he’s studying you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “Would you… would you let me take you on a date?”

You smile at the thought, the idea of spending time with him in a peaceful setting, away from the chaos of the past few days, feeling comforting.

“Somewhere nice and quiet,” he adds, as though reading your mind, his voice hopeful.

You nod, your heart fluttering at the thought of a simple, intimate evening with him. “I’d like that,” you reply, your voice soft but sure.

Tyler smiles in return, but then, his eyes fall to your face, his gaze focusing on the cut on your head that’s barely visible against your hair. His thumb gently brushes over it, a soft, tender motion.

“What about this?” he asks quietly. “Are you okay?”

You meet his eyes again, and though the pain is there, it’s not overwhelming. You nod, brushing off the worry. “I’m a little sore, but I’ll be okay,” you assure him, reaching up to touch the place where he’d just brushed.

But Tyler doesn’t look convinced. He gently presses his hand against your cheek, his thumb still gently tracing the curve of your jaw. His voice drops a little, and you can hear the raw vulnerability in it.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his words softer now, almost a confession. “I was so scared I was going to lose you. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

The weight of his words hits you like a wave, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the fear in his eyes, the way he holds you like you’re something fragile, something he never wants to let go of.

“I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if something happened to you,” he continues, his voice cracking slightly.

Your heart swells at his vulnerability, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumb grazing his cheek. “I’m right here,” you whisper, your voice firm yet filled with tenderness. "I'm okay."

Tyler closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, and you can feel the tension leave his body as he holds you a little tighter, like he’s trying to keep you as close as possible. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again,” he admits, his voice low, sincere. “I need you to know… you’re everything to me.”

You nod, your eyes welling up with emotion, and you lean up to press your lips to his, a soft kiss full of reassurance and affection. When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your breath mingling. “I love you, Tyler,” you say again, just to remind him, just to make sure he knows.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll keep reminding you every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes.”

You smile at that, feeling the sincerity in his words wash over you. The world outside may still be chaotic, but in this moment, with him holding you close, everything feels right. And spending the rest of your life with Tyler Owens doesn't sound too bad.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst #Tyler Owens Smut

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leviabeat · 2 years ago

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What a dork 🤣

Via Britt's Instagram story

#michael poulsen #airport #stetson cap #trucker cap #peep jon #volbeat #servant of the road world tour #2023

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rdmasevi · 2 months ago

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Ain’t My First Rodeo

Title: “Ain’t My First Rodeo”: Enhypen fanfiction

Pairing: Ni-ki x Reader Male ( Cowboy)

Genre: Romance | Comedy | Slice of Life | Slow Burn |

Warnings: None

Summary: Global K-pop group ENHYPEN attends a rodeo to support Ni-ki, who’s secretly obsessed with the star cowboy performer—you. The only problem? You have no clue who they are and couldn’t care less. But when a flustered, stammering Ni-ki approaches backstage, sparks fly—quietly, awkwardly, and with a whole lot of cowboy charm.

The sun had just dipped below the Texas horizon, casting golden hues across the open arena where the night’s rodeo was about to begin. The stands buzzed with chatter, boots thumped on wooden bleachers, and the smell of leather, dust, and funnel cake lingered in the air.

Among the crowd, a group of seven sat huddled near the front, sunglasses and caps pulled low despite the fading light.

ENHYPEN. Global sensations. Pop idols. Not exactly the usual rodeo crowd.

“Are we… really doing this?” Sunghoon whispered, eyeing the arena skeptically.

“Ni-ki wanted to come,” Heeseung said with a shrug. “We’ve been touring nonstop—figured he earned it.”

Jay leaned over. “You sure this isn’t just about that cowboy guy?”

“Shut up,” Ni-ki mumbled, pulling his hoodie lower.

Jake grinned. “You’ve been watching his videos on loop for days.”

“Shut up.”

The lights cut. A hush fell. Then the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers:

“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for tonight’s star performer—the one, the only—Maverick.”

The gate swung open. A dark horse bolted into the arena, and on its back sat a man in a weathered black Stetson, low over his eyes. Dressed in all black—snakeskin boots, silver-spurred heels, and a denim duster whipping in the wind—he was a walking Western fantasy.

You.

And you didn’t even flinch at the cheering crowd. Not when the horse kicked up dust, not when girls screamed your name, and certainly not when a global boyband watched from the stands.

You dismounted with practiced ease, swinging down in one fluid motion and tipping your hat to the announcer before walking past the bleachers. Your boots thudded heavy on the wooden ramp. ENHYPEN watched, stunned silent.

Well, except Ni-ki, whose breath hitched audibly when you glanced his way—brief, indifferent, and devastating.

Heeseung nudged him. “You okay?”

Ni-ki’s face turned crimson. “F-f-fine.”

The show continued. Lasso tricks. Bareback riding. Bull dodging. You owned every second like you were born in the dust and raised by thunder. And when it ended, you didn’t stay for autographs. You disappeared behind the gate like smoke—just a shadow in a ten-gallon hat.

But fate—or, more likely, a persistent Ni-ki—had other plans.

Backstage, Ni-ki found himself standing awkwardly near the horse stalls. The rest of the band watched from a distance, pretending to scroll their phones but absolutely eavesdropping.

You were brushing down your horse, sleeves rolled up, muscles tensed with every motion.

Ni-ki swallowed. “H-hey.”

You didn’t look up. “If you’re with the groupies, autograph table’s out front.”

“I’m not— I-I mean— I’m with ENHYPEN.”

This time, you turned. Slow. Measured. You looked him up and down, brow furrowed slightly like the name didn’t register.

“Never heard of it.”

Ni-ki blinked. “W-we’re a band. Um. Big in Korea. And… here. Maybe.”

You arched a brow. “That supposed to impress me?”

Ni-ki shook his head quickly, cheeks burning. “N-no! I—I just… I like your work. You’re… you’re really good. Like, really.”

You studied him, finally pausing with the brush. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not— okay I am.”

You leaned against the stall gate, arms folded. “Don’t get a lotta pop stars out here. You gonna pass out, or you gonna say what you came to say?”

Ni-ki opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

You tilted your head. “Cute.”

He might’ve died right there if Jake hadn’t snorted behind a haystack. You flicked your eyes toward the noise, sighed, and gave Ni-ki the faintest hint of a smirk.

“Tell your boys they can stop spying. And if you wanna hang out with a cowboy, you’re gonna have to stop trippin’ over your own tongue.”

Ni-ki blinked. “You mean—hang out?”

“I mean I get off in ten. Stick around.”

You turned back to your horse like it was nothing.

But to Ni-ki, it was everything.

Back at the van, the rest of the members exploded.

“He talked to you?!”

“What did he say?”

“Did he touch you?”

Ni-ki just smiled—soft, dazed, floating.

“Guys,” he said, voice still trembling. “He called me cute.”

My main masterlist

#enhypen #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x male reader #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki x male reader #cowboy #cowboy oc #cowboy reader #cute #romance #slow burn #x male reader #x reader #kpop

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radioisodoped · 1 year ago

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The sun had just barely come up when you started packing up your things, a couple rays of light streaming into the room and warming your back as you stuff whatever you can manage into your bag. The next settlement is a two-day hike away, but you’ve got plenty of supplies. You’ll manage. Once the spoils of yesterday’s scavenge are safely put away, you make your way to the stairs. The wooden steps creak as you make your way down, idly considering which road out of town would be best.

Stepping down onto the landing, you see his boots first. One leg casually crossed over the other on the dust-covered table. He’s already got his hand cannon pointed right at you, gloved finger steady on the trigger.

“Come chat, sugar. I didn’t come all this way for nothin’.” he drawls, smoke billowing out from under his tipped hat. A bloom of anger grows in your stomach when you see he’s gone through at least half the pack of cigarettes you had stashed away. Half your whiskey too, you knew you were missing something. Bastard. All of that was worth at least a small handful of caps.

You glance to the front door, your barricade still in place. A low whistle interrupts your thoughts.

“Where’s your hospitality? C’mon now, come and say hello.”

He punctuates it by motioning to the table with his gun. Bastard. You walk over, dropping your bag at his feet. Casual house calls aren’t something you associate with him. Before you can ask what he needs, he interrupts you. “Sit down, sweetheart. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

You doubt it. His hand couldn’t be steadier as you pull out a chair for yourself.

You get halfway through asking what he’s doing here before he interrupts again. “I’m still waitin’ on a ‘hello, how are ya’. Where are your manners?”

The games are getting old. You ignore his question and level your best unimpressed look at him.

“Are you here to kill me?”

He huffs out a laugh but doesn’t offer a response. You try not to let it phase you, reaching across his legs to grab the bottle of whiskey before you speak again. “If you are, I’d appreciate a heads up. Maybe even some last words, if you’re feeling particularly generous.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. “You and me both know I ain’t the generous sort. Though, that has nothin’ to do with whether you’ll die today.”

You take a swig from the bottle, watching out of the corner of your eye as he sets his gun down on the table. You’d never let him know it, but you’re a little relieved.

Another swig for courage and his gun out of hand, you feel yourself loosening up. The pretty little .44 holstered on your thigh could take the leg off a brahmin. You flirt with the notion of wrapping your hand around it and shooting him right through the ribs. Oh, you’d die. That’s an absolute certainty. He'd have bits of your head sprayed all over the room before you could get a second shot in. It’d almost be worth it to fuck up his day, though.

You watch him take a drag off of one of your cigarettes and a different thought forces its way to the front. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve earned your way out of a sticky situation

It won't be the last, either. You'll make sure of it. With death still on the table, you loosen your grip on the bottle and let it hang loosely from your fingers so the rim is just barely brushing over your bottom lip.

He tips his Stetson up and you can finally see his eyes, watch the slow drag of his gaze from your fingers to your mouth. You part your lips just enough that the tip of your tongue can pick up a drop of booze that's settled in the mouth of the bottle.

He smiles, half amused. You'll take it. With a small shake of his head, he speaks again. "I'm not here to kill ya, sweetheart, but I am here on business."

"Color me shocked." you mumble, "And here I thought you just missed my pretty face."

"Why can't it be both?"

You make a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, setting down the bottle. "Careful, Casanova. Keep that up and I might start thinking you like me."

Burnt lips split into a sleazy grin, cigarette hanging loosely between his teeth. He leans back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "'Course I like you. Don't you remember when we first met?"

Your face heats. That memory had kept you warm on plenty of lonely nights. You'd guess with the way he's looking at you, he's just as fond of it. A little teasing wouldn't hurt, and you're not in the mood to inflate his ego any more than it already is.

"Which time was that?" you ask, leaning back and pulling your eyebrows together to mock a thoughtful look. "The one where you left me on my knees without returning the favor, or the second time you left without getting me off?"

His smile doesn't drop, but you see a muscle in his burned cheek twitch. You hit a nerve. Good. You haven't forgotten how he neglected all of yours.

"Last time wasn't my fault. You knew better than to get handsy somewhere we might get caught." he drawls, most of the humor gone from his tone. He had a point- that was a mess. And mostly your fault. You still had the scar to remember it. He tilts his head, continuing on. "That first time, though? I didn't owe you shit. Besides, with the way you're still running your mouth... Well, clearly I didn't use it hard enough for you to learn anything. Seems to me you got the better deal out of that bargain."

Not one to be outdone, you stand. His eyes follow your every move, watching as you walk over. He barely has time to drop his boots back onto the ground before you straddle his lap, his spurs clinking as he settles. He's already hard when you grind down against him, steadying yourself by gripping his jacket. He does nothing to help, just leans back and reaches for your leg. You arch your back, welcoming the touch, but he just unbuckles your thigh holster, throwing your .44 on the table beside his own gun.

You roll your eyes, rocking your hips again. "Paranoid old man. If I was going to shoot you, I'd have done it while you were eyefucking me."

He laughs, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and stubbing it out on the table while he responds. "You should've. Would've made me want you even more."

"Do you get this hard for everyone you're going to kill?"

He spreads his thighs beneath you, his hands landing on your hips to keep you flush with his bulge as he readjusts. "'Course not, darling. Just brats like you.”

You’ve never wanted someone inside you more in your life. You ache with it. You reach down to fight with his belt buckle and he snickers. “Slow down and enjoy it, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re the kind of person who’d complain if you were bein’ hung with a gold rope.”

“Yeah, well, at least I know the rope can get the job done.”

You don’t have time to bask in the jab before you're sliding off his lap, surprised to find him suddenly standing. His hand wraps around your throat before he wrestles you down onto the rickety table. The whole thing shakes under your back, threatening to break under the strain of your struggle.

“You got a big fuckin’ mouth on you.” He sneers, leaning down close and narrowing his eyes. “I oughta not let you get off again just to prove a point.”

“All that would do is prove me right. You aren’t good for shit outside of killing-“

The slap shocks you. You’re suddenly looking at the wall, the taste of blood coating your tongue. A beat. Then another. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him close until his cock is pressed right up against where you need him. He laughs under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You crazy, insatiable bitch.”

He pulls his hand back, unbuckling his belt with a practiced motion that stokes the fire in your stomach. He slips his cock out unceremoniously, glove dragging over ridged skin. “You better be ready, sweetheart. I ain’t wastin’ any more time gettin’ you worked up. I told you I didn’t come for fun.”

Clothes are ripped and forced out of the way, his cock head pressing against your hole. He finally pushes in and you bite your lip, throwing your head back to stare at the stained ceiling as you moan out. “Yeah, but you’ll come for me, right?”

He hums, grabbing at your hips to pull you the rest of the way down his cock. “I always do.”

You choke on a moan, nails digging into the wood beneath you when he bottoms out. The whole table rocks as he thrusts into you, slow at first but gaining momentum quickly. This house was one of the safer places to be, but he wouldn’t afford you the luxury of a gentle fuck.

You know he could, if he wanted to. The grip on your hips isn’t painful, despite the punishing pace he’s set. There's something soft, reverent, in the way his hands drift over your clothes. Not like the way he touched you every other time you've had the privilege of his hands on you.

You're starting to think he really does like you.

The revelation unsettles you a bit. Not in a bad way, necessarily. You just didn't think he was capable of it. You watch the muscles in his neck tense as he holds back noises. You've bitten your lip raw for the same reason.

It's been a while for you. You'd had people since him, sure... but it wasn't the same. Never as satisfying as this. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but you think he might agree. He grunts and leans on one arm beside your head, chasing his own release. You want to make some smart quip, reminding him to slow down and enjoy it, sweetheart, but you think better of it. Your jaw still aches from the slap.

It's not long before he's unloading inside you with a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips twitch against you. An unnatural heat reminds you to look for some radaway once he's gone, but you're distracted by his hand slipping between your bodies. Embarrassingly, it doesn't take much. Rusty or not, he knows how to use his fingers. The fabric of his glove drags along just right and you keen, back arching as you come around his cock.

He lets you ride the high, only pulling away when you go limp and start to pant. He pulls out, leaving you looking like a mess as he readjusts himself. He could still kill you. He might, honestly. You couldn't give less of a fuck if you tried. He holsters his gun as your eyes shut, enjoying the afterglow. Of course, he doesn't let you rest long.

“That was an awful nice treat, but we got things to do. Up and at ‘em, darlin'." He slaps the side of your thigh with a smile, jolting you out of your reverie. "We’re goin’ on a field trip.”

#.the ghoul #.fallout #notsfw #.bitter #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader

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bubblgum-bish · 1 year ago

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Of course he had to be there, why wouldn't he? The very object of your frustration right in the very spot you came to cool off. You'd recognize that stupid busted up stetson anywhere. He was lounging back, long legs posted up on the table in front of him while his chair was tipped back. Part of you itched to swipe your foot under it and knock his chair down, taking the smug grin he was giving you with it. You turned back to the bar with a huff and ordered two fingers of whiskey from James. Typically you were a nuka cola and rum kinda girl but tonight you were here to get drunk and needed something with some bite to it, especially since you knew there was no way you were going to avoid Cooper.

Realistically you didn't really have anything to be mad about, it was the wasteland after all so of course nobodys gonna be upfront or honest so you really shouldn't have been surprised when he jilted you and skipped town with three quarters of your radaway. He at least had the decency to leave you some caps but overall your profits took a hit because of the whole debacle. Well that and your pride. But that wasn't really what you were mad about, no not at all, you were upset because you wanted him, pure and simple. It was all encompassing and ate at you every time you even thought about his weathered face and dangerous demeanor. Sure he was mean but you always liked it when men had some bite, it was more of a snark anyway.

James offering you your drink pulled you out of yourself. You took your whiskey in hand and knocked it back, willing your face to not scrunch up at the harsh feeling it left in your throat. Speaking of keeping cool, you were having an increasingly hard time ignoring the stare Cooper was burning into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath and sliding your caps onto the countertop you slowly turned in your seat. As suspected he was just staring at you, his body relaxed and languid in his chair, drink held loosely in our and and a smoke in the other while his eyes pinned you with a stare that made you feel like you were on fire. You watched him as he clicked his teeth together and tilted his head to the side, motioning you over. Again you felt anger welling up underneath your skin at his smug attitude, yet that wasn't the only thing that was itching at you.

It didn't help that he downright grinned when you stood up and wandered over to him. You chose to stand in front of him, a little to the left of his legs but enough to be directly in his line of sight, hands crossed over your chest, displaying your displeasure.

"Aw it ain't gotta be like that sweetheart. It ain't like I did nothing untoward."

He said playfully as he leaned forward and set his glass on the table.

"Yeah nothing but stealing my shit. Totally normal friendly behavior."

You retorted, cocking your hip, knocking against his crossed legs at the thigh.

"You still owe me for that by the way. Not too pleased to have been robbed, especially after giving you some of my supplies on the house."

His eyes followed the line of your body down to where your hip touched him, giving you a brazen up and down that had you barely suppressing a shiver.

He took a long drag from his cigarette before he spoke again, eyes never leaving yours.

"You and I both know that ain't what this is 'bout darlin. You're mad because I left you high and dry."

You didn't know what to say, the way he said it was so matter-o-factly, like he was making fun of you. Yet the look on his face was damn near salacious. You felt naked, uncomfortable and unbearably angry that he had the absolute gall to even say something like that. Before you could even think about raising your hand to slap him you felt pressure on the small of your back your whole body suddenly tipping forward. Just as quick as you fell, you were hauled up into Coopers lap. Some part of your brain registered that he had kicked you but the rest of it was focused on the sudden close proximity and the gloved hand that had made its way to your hip. You watched him through your lashes as he worked his cigarette in his mouth before he exhaled, leaving you in a haze that burned your nostrils.

"So how 'bout we cut the shit and you let me show you what you've been missing out on?"

#RAHHHHHHH #i wrote this at work #its gonna be smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout #i cant wait to be irradiated 🥰#working progress #wip

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trickphotography2 · 11 months ago

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'tis the damn season | Chapter 10

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 11.5K (sorry, she's a beast)

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 9 | Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 10

Thunder rumbled, and the wind rustled the tall grass. The stems tickled his ear, and Jake absently moved it away before sighing and lifting his hat from his face to squint up at the sky. Grey clouds were rolling in from the west, and he’d seen the cows lying down in the field as he rode to his favorite spot on the property after finishing chores.

The twinge in his knee was right - an August storm was coming in.

Sighing, Jake settled the hat back on his face, blocking the sun. Mama had dug his old Stetson from the closet the first day he’d returned with a sunburned face after working outside with Will to replace a section of fence that’d come down in a windstorm. When he’d looked for his Longhorns cap the next day, it was drip-drying in the shower. Mama’d claimed she just wanted to wash it for him, but who washed ball caps first thing in the morning?

A second clap of thunder boomed, followed by a cow bellowing. Starlight, his favorite mare, tossed her head and snorted, foot stomping. Groaning, he slowly sat up, setting his hat on his head and grimacing at the twinge in his lower back. Even months after the ejection, he was still stiff and sore if he spent too much time sitting still. Lying on the ground certainly didn’t help. But he was tired after doing his chores, and it was easier to deal with the nightmares when he didn’t have to worry about his folks hearing him toss and turn. The flight surgeon assured him they’d go away with time, just like he needed to give his back and knee time to heal. The SEALs medic had stabilized his left knee, but trekking eight miles over rough terrain to the rendezvous point on a torn ACL hadn’t been fun. Neither had the surgery in Landstuhl, Germany after he’d been med-evaced from the carrier. But thankfully, he’d been able to get shipped back home shortly after, reaching the States just a few weeks after Rooster and the rest of the SEAL team did. The success of their mission was already making national headlines. Jake knew his next promotion was guaranteed, but it didn’t matter.

Because when he’d been lying in that bed in Germany, the one person he’d wanted to talk to hadn’t picked up her phone.

He’d known there was a chance Cece wouldn’t answer when he’d called. In their last conversation before he shipped out - permission was granted for a last minute to contact his loved ones - he’d pleaded with her to distract him, and she told him her travel plans, voice brimming with excitement. Pops confirmed she was overseas when they talked after his surgery. He’d offered to call and let her know what was happening, but Jake told him not to bother. Despite his family’s disapproval, he held firm to it - the last thing he wanted was Cece to come back to him only because he was injured. But in his darker moments, he was mad and hurt. He hated being alone in his hospital room. Wanted to see her when he got off the plane. And as much as he appreciated Mama flying out to help him get around his apartment those first few weeks, Jake selfishly wanted Cece.

But they’d agreed to take the time apart to think. The sight of her tear-stained face that night in January when they’d stayed up until 4:00 AM on a video call still haunted him. The exhaustion he’d felt when they finally hung up wasn’t just physical. The conversation had been a long time coming, but he still hadn’t been prepared. Cece’s voice had broken so many times on that call when she finally opened up to him. Jake was forced to reckon with the fact that, while he’d thought their relationship was perfect, the woman he loved had been miserable for a long time - and he’d been too blinded to see it. Like everyone else, he’d fallen for Cece’s bright smiles and claims that everything was alright. But those smiles were gone, replaced with hurt, anger, and exhaustion as she filled in her side of their love story.

Going to college across the country was a temporary challenge that would pay off once he graduated and they were back together. But where he’d been on a straight and narrow path toward their dream, Cece struggled to reconcile the woman she was becoming with the girl who had agreed to something she didn’t quite understand. Their spring break trips to South Carolina were fun but another example of Jake’s unspoken expectation that she accommodate him and his career - that she would follow where he led. What he’d seen as a simple request for her to come to him, to remember that his college experience was different than hers, she’d taken as a glimpse into their future.

Jake regretted his bitter, sarcastic apology for failing her tests when he was a stupid kid. His hissed accusations that she could have talked to him instead of her friends, who dripped poison into her ears that he didn’t care about her if he wouldn’t do something so simple as go on a vacation of her choosing. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you to Florida. We can go when I get back if you - ”

“It’s not about Florida!” Cece yelled, hands flying to cover her face as she sat on her bed. “It was about doing something I wanted for a change - somethin’ that would make me happy, even if it was inconvenient for you.”

“Are you sayin’ I didn’t make you happy?”

“I’m sayin’ you never tried. You never had to choose between what you wanted and what I wanted. And part of that’s my fault because I stopped pushing. But I did that because I knew what you would say - that you would tell me how tired you were between classes and training. You wouldn’t be home for long over the summer because you would be training on different things and traveling. And you wanted to spend as much time together as possible, and it’d be easier for me to come to you.”

“It was easier - you just had to work around your classes - ”

“And my job and friends, coming home to see Daddy, and my plans. But those didn’t matter to you because you wanted to spend a week in a shitty hotel with your friends, getting drunk on the beach.”

“Which is what we probably would have done in Florida!”

“Maybe! But we’ll never know, will we?”

They’d taken a break after that, and the whiskey still burned in Jake's throat when they got back on camera. It was clear that Cece had been crying, and the hand holding her water glass shook when they talked through her move to Virginia. It hurt to hear that she’d had doubts about their future when he’d proposed but thought this could be the fresh start they’d needed. “But it felt like y’all were laughing at me behind my back that day at the beach when I found out you were deploying.”

“I didn’t know until I got there, and you were already… I didn’t know.”

“But you didn’t tell me when you found out. You kept it from me.”

“Would you have come?”

“I don’t know.”

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” he’d said, letting out a frustrated huff. “We’d already been apart five years, and the deployment woulda been one more excuse to keep us apart. You wouldn’ta come there.”

“I don’t know if I would or if I wouldn’t have because I wasn’t given that choice. You took that from me.”

“What were you gonna do?” Jake demanded. “You’d already quit your job and packed up. Our future was in Virginia, whether I was there or not.”

“I could have come back here,” Cece’d shot back, throwing her arms out and motioning to her house. “I coulda spent that time with Daddy. Or stayed in Austin.”

“I was only gonna be gone for seven months.”

“And you spent almost six lying to me.”

“We could have had six months together, but you left after two. You didn’t even give us a chance to figure it out before you left. You knew what we were going up against with me going into the Navy, and at the first sign of it being hard, you cut and ran.”

Her laugh was full of disbelief, bordering on hysterics. She’d moved so fast that her computer turned over, and Jake glimpsed her pacing as the camera pointed at the ceiling. “The first sign?” she muttered to herself. He waited as she walked through her house, setting the laptop on the kitchen counter as she rummaged in a cabinet.

“Cece.” But she ignored him, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and taking a swig. A grimace crossed her face as she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Baby - ”

“The first sign of it being hard?” she chuckled. “Maybe it was the first sign for you, but I had five years of hard. I didn’t know what we were getting into when you said you wanted to join the Navy, Jake. You looked into it and told me what our life would be like, and I just blindly trusted you. And that’s my fault. I didn’t think about the fact that my whole life would revolve around you and your career, and there was nothing I could do to change that.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she shot back. “My hopes and wants and dreams didn’t matter because the minute you decided what you wanted, that was it. That’s what we were doing.”

“You make it sound like I forced you. You had a choice every step of the way,” he snapped.

“Between letting you steamroll me or losing you?” A sob broke her voice as she shook her head. “I’m sorry I was a stupid kid who thought loving you was enough.”

I love you too. And I always will. But I don’t know if that’s enough.

Those words had echoed through his head for years after she left, and he was afraid of hearing them again at that moment. “You say I steamrolled you,” he sighed, “but you never talked to me. You just stay quiet and smile and make me think everything’s okay until you're already out the goddamn door. I’m not a mind reader! You have to tell me what’s goin’ on with you, or I’m gonna assume things are fine.” They stared at one another for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “Were you pregnant after we… after the bar?”

“No.” Jake was relieved to hear her quick answer and nodded.

“Have you ever been pregnant with our…?”

“No, never.” Shoulders falling, he let his head hang while running a hand down his face. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that - that the woman he loved hadn’t betrayed him to the level of his ex by keeping a kid from him. “No matter what was goin’ on with us, I would have told you if I was… if there’d been…”

Jake replayed their fight over and over in his head during his deployment. And when sleep evaded, he recalled the sight of her falling asleep in his arms, eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks as she murmured, “I love you, Farm Boy.” It was her face that he focused on when he pulled the ejection handle, as he screamed when his leg caught under his seat and the ligament tore. The promise of getting home to see her and meet baby Tyler, hugging his parents and Will and Ally kept him going when all he wanted to do was give into the pain and stop.

But he still hadn’t picked up the damn phone since getting back stateside. They’d promised each other time. Jake knew where he stood when it came to them. But she’d accused him of steamrolling her, and he was trying to be better. He wouldn’t let an injury manipulate her back into his arms.

Movement drew his eye. Will leaned out the driver’s side of the old beat-up farm truck, tapping the horn to get his attention. Jake pushed to his feet, fighting against his stiff, injured knee, and nearly fell on his ass as a result. For as much as he was making sure to keep up with his PT, there were still days when it felt like his body was going backward with its recovery. The docs told him to be patient - that he was on track to get back into his jet in a few months - but struggling down a flight of stairs without clinging to the railing for stability made him doubt that. Rather than sit at his desk and recover, he’d decided to burn the vacation hours nearing use or lose territory. A month in Magnolia was better than one watching his friends tiptoe around him.

“Your ears as busted as your knee?” Will asked, pulling to a stop. Jake flipped him the bird, carefully putting weight on his leg. The last thing he wanted was for it to give out in front of his big brother. “Storm’s comin’ in, and Mama’s got an errand she wants you to run.”

“Can’t you do it?” Jake sighed, hobbling toward Starlight and turning his back to the truck, hiding the wince of pain. He’d gone too long without taking his meds.

“Nope. Need a hand there, old man?” Ignoring him, Jake retrieved the saddle he’d removed, wishing his brother would leave. Mounting would be painful enough without an audience. He’d overdone it that morning with chores. When his physical therapist told him moving would help his recovery, he probably didn’t mean getting a couple hundred cows into their milking bays. “Happy to ride her back if you wanna take the truck.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t get caught in the rain,” Will said, glancing back at the gathering clouds while pulling away. After checking the girth strap and saddle were secure, Jake grabbed the hackmore and stroked Star’s muzzle. She pressed into his hands, almost knocking him off his feet, and he chuckled. Once she was situated, he took a steeling breath while patting her neck and moving to her side. Taking the reins in his left hand, he grasped her mane and used his right to turn the stirrup toward him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he lifted his left leg. His muscles shook with the effort, knee refusing to bend enough to slip his boot into the stirrup. Dropping his foot back to the ground, he cursed under his breath. For someone who’d ridden since before he could walk, it was embarrassing not to be able to mount a horse.

For fuck’s sake, he’d ridden Broncos bareback for a year when he was 16 before taking a nasty fall and breaking his collarbone. Shortly after, Mama ended that particular hobby, offering to let him barrel race instead. Jake declined.

Gritting his teeth, he tried again, the tip of his boot grazing Star’s side but not slipping into place. After failing for a third time, he lowered his head, the brim of his hat grazing the horse’s shoulder, and forced himself to take a deep breath. Another clap of thunder boomed, and Jake spotted a sheet of rain moving in from the west. Cursing again, he shifted to Star’s right side. Holding the reins in his right hand felt awkward, fingers twined in her mane when he carefully lifted his right leg, hesitantly putting his full weight on the left. When it buckled, he quickly dropped his foot and steadied himself. “I’m not fuckin’ walking back,” Jake grunted, looking around for something that would serve as a mounting block. He felt a slight twinge of regret for letting his pride get in the way of taking the truck. Frustration with his body not working the way he wanted it to quickly overrode it.

If he couldn’t mount his damn horse, how the hell was he supposed to climb the ladder into his fucking jet?

Tightening his grip on her mane, Jake took a deep breath. His bum knee only needed to hold long enough to settle his foot in the stirrup. Starlight nickered, ears flicking as she shifted with another boom of thunder. “I know, girl,” he muttered. “Just hold still for me.” Forcing himself to take a few even breaths, he adjusted the stirrup. He’d need to move fast - the balancing exercises the PT gave him were still a struggle, and the last thing he wanted to do was fall on his ass. Mentally counting down, Jake gritted his teeth, gripping the handful of mane and horn tightly. Quickly, he lifted his right leg and jammed it onto the stirrup, feeling it hit the heel of his boot, and stood, swinging his left leg over her hindquarters. Star started as he dropped heavily into the saddle, settling when he gave the reins a quick tug. Grinning to himself, he managed to get his left foot situated and adjusted his seat before taking off his hat and rubbing his sleeve to his forehead.

Loosening the reins, Jake pressed his heels into her side to get her moving. “Ready to beat the storm home?” he asked, chuckling when she tossed her head. Taking that as an affirmative, he gave Star her head and kicked her into a gallop. Leaning forward in the tack, he pushed onto his feet to give her more room, ignoring his throbbing knee. His hand flew up to keep his hat in place, and Jake couldn’t keep the whoop of joy from bursting out.

As much as he loved that moment of anticipation before the catapult shot his jet off the carrier, nothing could compare to riding under the open Texas sky.

When they neared the barn, Jake reluctantly reined her in. Star wasn’t happy as she was forced into a trot - at six years old, she was relatively new to working and still high-spirited. A few feet from the barn, he felt her muscles bunch and watched her ears flick back, tail swishing. She started dancing and hopped, and he quickly tugged the left rein, forcing Star to turn in a circle to keep her from bucking. Getting thrown in the field, where the grass would mostly cushion his fall, was one thing, but he sure as hell didn’t want to hit the hard-packed dirt and have to explain to the flight surgeon why his return to duty had to be pushed back.

“You got her?” Mama asked, stepping out of one of the stalls. Jake didn’t take his eyes off Star and nodded. “Watch your uncle,” Mama said, and he shot a glance over to see five-month-old Tyler watching him from the pack-and-play everyone fondly called the baby jail. Since Ally had gone back to work - chomping at the bit to get back to taking care of her large animal vet practice after Will managed to talk her into taking four months off - Ty spent days being passed around the Seresins at home. Having been relegated to driving the truck so Will could pitch hay and Pops could check the machinery before the morning milking, Jake spent a lot of time with his nephew sleeping in his car seat beside him.

Starlight settled with an annoyed stop of her foot, and he took the opportunity to dismount quickly. His left knee buckled when his foot hit the ground, but he stayed upright. Patting the mare’s neck, he flicked the reins over her head and led her to her stall. “Will said you needed me to run an errand?” he said, glancing at Mama. He caught her narrowed-eyed examination of his limp and forced himself to ignore it. Working quickly to remove the tack, he murmured an ‘excuse me’ while moving past her to put it away.

“Don’t worry about brushin’ her - I’ll get it. I need you to run to the grocery store for me.” Biting back a groan, he turned to face her.

“Can’t Will do it?”

“No, I’m asking you.” The stern look she pinned him was so familiar that he felt like a kid again. For the two weeks he’d been home, Jake was reluctant to leave the farm. Will dragged him to Mickey’s one night for a late toast to him becoming a father, and he’d made a few runs to the feed store with Pops, but he hated how people watched him. The way they stopped him, asking why he was home, for how long, and why he was limping. Betty Roberts had quickly turned away when he glared at her, remembering her cruel words to Cece those few months ago. Hell, even the attention he got from the women in town was annoying. The last thing he wanted to do was flirt with someone who’d grown up seeing him in love with Cece and was taking advantage of the fact that she was away to try and get his attention.

And if he got one more damn question about his ex.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Shayla. After posting his video, she started losing brand deals, and companies moved away from working with her. While he hadn’t set out intending to hurt her career, Jake wasn’t upset to see it happen. If he and Cece were facing backlash in their jobs, Shayla sure as hell deserved to go down as well. He wasn’t keeping tabs on her, but he’d overheard a loudly whispered conversation at the gas station about her seeing a minor league basketball player. Jake wished the man all the luck in the world - he’d need it to be with a conniving witch like her.

“There’s a list on the fridge.”

“Can I take Ty with me?” he asked, grinning as he dusted his hands on his jeans and walked over to lift his nephew from the jail. The baby gave him a gummy smile as Jake kissed his chubby cheek and settled him in the crook of his arm.

“Ally’s on her way to get him.” Sighing, he kissed Ty again and passed him into Mama’s outstretched arms. Even with two weeks left on leave, Jake dreaded going home and not seeing the little guy every day. He’d need to be better about coming home and seeing the family.

“Call me if you think of anything else you need,” Jake said after a beat. Mama just nodded and bounced her grandson on her hip, tapping his nose.

“Might check with Ally to see if she needs you to pick up some diapers.” Nodding, he turned and made his way back to the house, sipping a coffee while perusing the shopping list. His eyebrows knit together as he read the random list and walked to the pantry to double-check that the canister of coffee was still mostly full - he’d just opened it a few days ago.

“What’re you still doin’ here?” a voice asked, and Jake glanced up to see his sister-in-law frowning at him. “Didn’t Mama tell you to go to the store?”

“I’m on my way. You need anything?”

“Yeah, your ass outta here,” she scoffed, not meeting his gaze as she looked around the kitchen, setting her paper cup from the new coffee shop down on the counter. “Where’s my baby?”

“The barn with Mama.” Smiling, she walked past him, not pausing as her hand smacked his arm. “Hurry up, Uncle Jakey.”

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his boots from by the back door. The sooner he left, the sooner he could get home and relax.

The cart rattled annoyingly as Jake rounded the corner in the produce section. Mama wanted fresh corn for dinner, but the ears in the bin didn’t look good. The Adams farm stand was on the drive home, so he’d probably stop and grab some. After adding a package of strawberries to the cart, he moved into the dried goods section. Keeping his gaze on the list in hand, he ignored the whispers and side-eyed glances from the other patrons. Going down the coffee aisle, he scanned the shelves, reached for a can, and tossed it into the cart. Jake grabbed the handles and turned around, stopping in his tracks, breath catching in his throat.

“Oh.” Cece’s eyebrows shot up, her lips parting in surprise. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Jake struggled to get the word out around the lump in his throat, which came out half-strangled. “I thought - ”

“I didn’t - ” Their voices overlapped, and they fell silent, waiting for the other to speak. “You - ”

“When - ” It happened again. “You first.”

“I didn’t realize you were home,” Cece said after a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. For a few weeks. When did you get back?”

“Last night. When - ”

“Where - ” He smiled at her nervous laugh, and she motioned for him to go. “Where were you?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled with her blinding smile. “New York. I stayed a few days in the city on my way back from Paris.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I think I ate my weight in macarons while I was there.”

“Well, you look great.” And she did. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, and she seemed more contented…. happier, and confident. A cute pink flush colored her cheeks, and he caught her appreciative look at his hat and how his t-shirt clung to his arms.

“You too. Everything went okay with…?” Concern clouded Cece's face, and he forced himself to stand straight, ignoring the twinge in his knee.

“It was rough, but everyone got back in one piece.”

“Good.” Something flickered in her eyes, and he watched her lift a coffee cup from the new shop to her lips, her gaze flicking to the shelves. Her tongue darted out to catch a stray drop, and his grip on the handles tightened. “Have you been home long?”

“From the mission or in Magnolia?”

“Both.”

“I’ve been here about two weeks, but I got back stateside about a month and a half ago. Are you, uh… are you gonna be here for a while, or just passin’ through?” Movement over her shoulder caught his attention. A woman pushed her cart toward them, openly staring. Jake shifted his cart in front of Cece’s before moving back to her side. Cece’s eyes flitted toward the woman, and she waited until she was gone before shrugging.

“I’m gonna be here a while. Got some stuff I need to take care of before hitting the road again.”

“Where are you heading to next?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she shrugged.

“I’ve got a couple of places in mind.” The hint of mischief in her eyes had Jake shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. It felt like ages since he’d seen that look.

“Have dinner with me.” The request was out of his mouth before his brain caught up. But Cece just smiled and shook her head.

“I already told Ally that I’ve got plans tonight.” His flicker of worry that she might be meeting up with the firefighter was quickly stifled when she added, “Lucy made me promise to come.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there for breakfast.”

“Great - have dinner with me. I wanna hear about everywhere you’ve been.” While his palm itched to curve around her cheek and kiss away that indecisive look on her face, Jake contented himself with reaching for her hand. Catching her fingers, he squeezed lightly. “Please, Cupcake?”

Her gaze focused over his shoulder, and he turned to see the woman from before standing at the end of the aisle, talking to someone else as they both stared. Cece watched them when he turned back, and her eyes only moved to him when he stroked his thumb along her finger. It took a moment for him to realize it was her empty ring finger, where his engagement ring had once sat. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna hear how you’ve been, too.” Gently shaking off his hold, Cece reached up and flicked the brim of his hat. “It’s good to see you, Farm Boy.” It took all of Jake’s strength and discipline not to catch her wrist and pull her into his arms to kiss that smirk from her lips. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Though he could feel the stares as he finished his shopping, Jake didn’t care. The only thing that mattered were those fleeting glimpses of Cece in the aisles. Whenever they caught sight of one another, she rolled her eyes and smiled. Unsure of where she was, he tried his best not to limp. Too soon, he finished and headed to the checkout lines. When he stepped outside, the rain was coming down. The storm finally caught up with them. Ducking his head, he hurried across the parking lot and tossed his bags into the truck backseat. His shirt was damp and sticking to his skin, and water dripped from his hat when he finally got in after returning his cart. But instead of pulling out, he waited.

For ten minutes, he kept his eyes trained on the front doors and was finally rewarded with the sight of Cece stepping outside. His hand gripped the door handle when an older man walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. Jake recognized him from the firehouse - one of her daddy’s friends. But just as his foot hit the ground, he watched Cece shake her head and reach into her purse, pulling out an umbrella. Smiling, she stepped out from under the store awning and made her way to her SUV while the man headed in the opposite direction.

Jake hesitated before shutting his door, watching Cece quickly load her car and return her cart. He couldn’t help but grin when she took her umbrella down and strolled back to her car, heedless of the pounding rain.

His girl always enjoyed a good storm.

With the chores done and dinner finished, the Seresins went their separate ways. Will, Ally, and Ty were back at the foreman’s house, and Mama and Pops had decided to go into town for an ice cream. Jake declined their invitation, knowing he was getting a bit soft around the middle already with all the homecooked meals and strict orders to stay away from the gym until he was medically cleared. Instead, he saddled up one of the new geldings and went for a ride since the rain had blown through.

Back under his tree, Jake gritted his teeth as he lay down, left knee bent and heel pressing into the dirt. It ached as he held the position for six seconds before relaxing for thirty and repeating. His physical therapist told him to do the exercises three times a day, and he hated doing them in front of his parents. He could see the worry in Mama’s eyes anytime she saw a flicker of pain in his face. Pops was kind enough to ignore it but would make sure that he took it easy on chores.

If he was ever going to get back in his damn jet, he needed to push through the pain. He refused to be med-boarded out because of an ejection gone wrong.

After twelve reps, he stretched his leg out, a moan escaping as his knee straightened. Letting gravity press it straight, he closed his eyes and knitted his fingers over his stomach. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his knee and sweat beading on his forehead. Blowing a breath through pursed lips, he let his knee bend slightly and banged his head back on the grass. “Fuck,” he huffed, knowing he needed to hold the position for at least twenty minutes.

One of the worst parts about the exercise was that it made Jake stop. While he was moving, pushing away the memories of the mission and his nightmares was easy. But being forced to lie still allowed his mind to wander. To distract himself, he started running through the NATOPs for his jet, making him think about his friends. They were probably getting together at the Hard Deck for a drink and cursing him for not replying to their texts. Coyote had called him two days ago just to make sure he was still alive.

While he appreciated them checking in, Jake couldn’t help but feel jealous that they could still fly while he was grounded indefinitely. As happy as he was to take the SAM to ensure Rooster didn’t get shot down in hostile territory for the second time in as many years, it was still hard to contemplate that he might never feel the thrill of pulling G’s again. The roar of the engine and his seat rattling underneath him. The wind in his hair while standing on the deck of a carrier.

So as much as the exercises hurt, he’d do them every goddamn day to make sure he could get back up in the air. Gritting his teeth, he forced his knee straight again.

Grunting, he stared at the darkening sky. The crickets were loud, and the fireflies started flickering in the fields. A smile tugged at his mouth as he remembered running through them with Will and Cece, scooping up the bugs in jars Mama put aside for them, and wondered if Ty would do the same when he was a bit older.

If he’d have siblings or cousins to help him with the hunt.

A stab of regret hit him, and Jake couldn’t help but think about the baby that never was. If she hadn’t lied, he would have been getting ready for his little one to be born. The phantom weight of a baby on his chest was painful, and he cleared his throat. Whenever he thought of them, he’d always figured on having a son - after all, there hadn’t been a Seresin girl in a couple of generations. By now, the nursery would be finished, and he’d be so ready for the little man to arrive. But when he imagined the mother of his child, it wasn’t Shayla that he saw. He could picture Cece big with their child, teasing him as he catered to her every whim. She wouldn’t lift a finger while he was around to do it for her.

Of all the things that bitch had done to him, going after Cece and giving him the hope of being a father was the worst.

The sound of a car broke the quiet, and he lifted his head to see the farm truck getting closer. The gelding pulled at his rope, and Jake quickly glanced over to make sure he wouldn’t bolt. Will would probably die laughing if his horse ran and make him walk back. But when the truck pulled to a stop, it wasn’t his brother who got out and slammed the door.

Cece circled the truck and stared down at him, arms crossed over her chest. Jake lurched to his feet, hissing in pain when his bad knee protested the quick movement. “Hey.” His smile dropped when he saw tears shining in her eyes. “Honey?” he said softly. “Everything okay?” Her shoulders rose and fell as she tried to control her breathing, nostrils flaring as she stared at him. The tall grass licked her calves as she stormed toward him, fists clenched at her sides. “Hey, talk to me, Cece,” Jake pleaded while reaching for her.

Wordlessly, she shoved him. Surprised, he stumbled backward but managed to keep his feet. But then she shoved again, moving with him and pushing every time he stepped back. “Hey!” Jake snapped, catching her wrists. She quickly ripped her hands away and pushed harder, a grunt forcing itself out between her clenched teeth. His boot caught on a rock, forcing him off balance, and her next shove sent him sprawling. “What the fuck?” he demanded, pushing up onto his elbows. His back ached and his ass hurt from the fall. A burning sensation had him lifting his right arm to see a line of blood making a trail from his elbow toward his wrist. But Cece just glared down at him, hands planted on her hips. “Jesus Christ, Julie - what the hell was that about?”

“‘It was rough’?” she hissed. “It was ROUGH?”

“What’re you talking about?” Jake snapped, matching her glare with one of his own.

“How bad was it?” Cece demanded.

“How bad was what?” The noise she made was a mix of a groan and a scream. Spinning on her heel, she tugged at her hair and stomped away from him. Carefully, Jake got to his feet, trying not to bend his left knee. Cece turned to watch him, and he eyed her wearily. “You shove me again, and you’re comin’ down with me,” he cautioned. The look she gave him was so far removed from the teasing ones she’d give when they were kids and later teens, wrestling out in the field. He was pretty sure dragging her down with him wouldn’t end with a laughing kiss as he pinned her. More than likely, it’d end with an ‘accidental’ graze of her knee to his balls. “Baby, talk to me.”

“Why? So you can lie to me again?”

“What did I lie to you about?”

“Everyone got home in one piece?” It took a moment for her words to register, and he shook his head when he realized she was talking about the mission.

“That’s not a lie. We all got home.”

“What happened to you?” A cold sweat broke out on his brow as he remembered how it felt when the SAM hit his tail, splitting the jet and sending him into a spin. How disorienting it was, unable to tell the difference between the stars and the ground. Bitchin’ Betty yelling at him to eject as sensors blared. Rooster screaming at him to get out.

“I’m fine.” Even to his ears, the words sounded hollow. He’d said them so often since getting home they’d almost lost their meaning. Angrily brushing the tears from her face, Cece stalked toward him. Her hands lifted to shove him again, and Jake reacted. His arms wrapped around her waist, tugging so their chests collided. Momentum threw them off balance, and he sat heavily, grunting while taking the brunt of the fall. Cece’s knee brushed his inner thigh, and he clenched automatically, bracing for the pain of a knee to the balls.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, pushing against his chest. But he ignored her, rolling so she lay under him, her thighs cradling his hips. Catching the hands pushing against him, Jake drew them over her head, wrapping his fingers around her forearms and pinning her to the ground.

“Told ya you’d be goin’ down with me if you pushed me again,” he teased, his laugh turning into a bitten-back moan when Cece planted her feet and lifted her hips to try and throw him off.

“Get off me, Seresin!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Julie Louise Ryan.” The use of her full name had her glaring at him again, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck you, Jacob Thomas.”

“I’d love nothin’ more, baby, but only after you tell me what’s wrong.” She struggled against him but, even injured, he had more weight and strength on his side. With one final buck against him, she sagged into the grass, breathing heavily.

“You lied to me. Again.” The accusation came out a half sob, and Jake’s heart broke to see her chin wobble.

“I didn’t lie to you, honey. I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“You got hurt.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t tell me.” The pain in Cece’s eyes was unbearable, especially knowing he caused it. Clearing his throat against the tight feeling, he nodded.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Letting go of one of her arms, he wiped away her tears. His palm curved around her jaw, thumb gently tugging her lower lip free of the teeth digging into it. “I’m alright and gettin’ better every day.”

“What happened?” Her breath was hot against his face. And, while the mission was classified, it was hard to keep the truth from the woman he loved.

“Bad ejection,” he said simply and felt her breath catch. Watched her pulse flutter in her throat. “Tore my ACL and had to have surgery.” Her free hand curled around the back of his sweaty neck, fingers sliding into his hair. Nails lightly scraped his scalp, and his eyes drooped. Shifting, he let go of her other arm, bracing his hand by her head.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“‘M sorry, Cupcake,” he murmured. Dipping his head, he brushed the tips of their noses. Cece’s eyes closed as she turned away from him. Denied her lips, he kissed the hinge of her jaw and throat, switching to the other side when she rolled her head. The unmistakable feeling of her hips grinding against him and knees bracketing his side had him chuckling against her skin. “I love you, baby.” The fingers in his hair tightened, tugging cruelly as Cece took advantage of his distraction to flip them. Yelping, he covered her hand with his, trying to disentangle it as she straddled his hips.

Leaning down, she kissed Jake’s forehead before letting go of his hair and bracing her hands on his chest, scrambling to her feet before he could catch her. Towering over him, she glared and shook her head, swiping at the tears coating her cheeks. Her voice cracked when she said, “You don’t get to die on me, too, Farm Boy.”

“Julie - ”

“Save it,” she snapped, turning on her heel and walking away. He tried to catch her ankle but missed. But rather than returning to the truck, she was going toward the gelding.

“Hey,” he called, struggling to his feet. She was faster, quickly undoing the simple knot he’d secured the lead rope with. “What’re you doin’?” Jake demanded as she gathered the reins in one hand and hoisted herself into the saddle he hadn’t removed. His jeans, already tight, felt a bit more snug after that display.

Jake had forgotten just how gorgeous Cece was when she rode.

“Stop over doing it before you put yourself back in the damn hospital,” she scowled.

“Fine. Get down, and I’ll ride back.” But instead, she ignored him and wheeled the horse around, kicking it into a run.

“Keys are in the ignition!” Cece called over her shoulder while standing up in the stirrups. Jake was treated to the beautiful view of her ass as they started to run across the field back to the barn, hair streaming behind her.

“God damn,” he muttered to himself, finally tearing his gaze away. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he retrieved his hat before limping his way to the truck. Just like she’d promised, the keys swayed from the ignition when he got in. But the envelope with his name on it sitting in the passenger seat caught his attention. Frowning, he opened it and saw a stack of postcards.

With the last few rays of sunlight, Jake picked up the first one and saw it was a picture of the Grand Canyon. Smirking, he flipped it over and read Cece’s loopy handwriting.

Farm Boy,

I’m going on the adventure we always talked about. It’s scary to think about doing it alone, but it’s a good scary. I feel like I’ve been waiting around for my life to start, and I’m just tired of waiting for it. I think… I know that I need this. I hate that we’re fighting and that I won’t get to talk to you soon, so I figured this might be a way to talk to you without actually talking.

It’s probably stupid, and I might forget to do this halfway through. But for now, hello from the Grand Canyon!

I love you even when I’m mad at you. And isn’t that what matters?

Cece

Will was in the barn brushing down the gelding when Jake reached the house, a teasing smirk on his mouth. “Good ride?” he asked and laughed when he got the finger in response. Mama and Pops were back, sharing their nightly cup of tea. Cece’s car was long gone. After saying goodnight to his parents, he went upstairs and forced himself to shower instead of retreating to his room.

Hair still damp, he crawled into bed with the stack of postcards and started reading.

Gripping the railing, Jake slowly made his way downstairs the following morning. He was tired after staying up late and waking up with a nightmare around two. It always sucked to dream about the mission, and usually took him a couple hours to calm back down enough to sleep. Normally, he dozed for a few more minutes before his alarm went off for chores. But last night, he’d gotten through a few more postcards and woken with them on his chest, having fallen back asleep reading.

The smell of something sweet mixed with coffee and laughter in the kitchen. Following his nose, he paused in the doorway at a sight that made his heart skip a beat. Cece leaned against the counter, Tyler sleeping on her chest as she chatted with Ally. Her hand spanned the little guy’s back, her chin resting on his head as his fingers curled around her t-shirt neck. “Look who finally decided to join us,” Will said, startling Jake. He hadn’t heard his brother come up behind him and wasn’t prepared for the shove to the middle of his back, forcing him into the room. This time, he kept his balance and spun to face his brother. With decades of experience, Will dodged Jake’s attempt to get him into a headlock, quickly batting away his arms.

“Boys!” Pops snapped. “Knock it off.”

“Yes, sir,” the Seresin boys chorused. The minute Pops turned back to his conversation with Mama at the kitchen table, Jake smacked the back of Will’s head and moved toward the coffee pot. Glancing at Cece, he fought to smile when she rolled her eyes at him. Her lips pressed to Ty’s head, attempting to hide her smirk, and he barely avoided overfilling his mug.

Using his nephew as an excuse to get closer, Jake’s hand covered Cece’s on Ty’s back, and he leaned down to kiss the baby’s head. Cece’s shoulder pressed against his chest, and it took all of his willpower not to turn and kiss her, too. “Mornin’ buddy. Ready to go out with Uncle Jake?”

“You’ve had your turn. He’s hanging out with Aunt Julie this morning,” she said, digging her elbow into his stomach. Without thinking, he pinched her side playfully. Mock glaring, Cece hip-checked him and used her free hand to flick his cheek. “Go away. I’m soaking up baby cuddles.”

“Stop being gross around my son,” Ally huffed, thrusting a hand between them and pushing Jake away.

“You’re supposed to take my side since you’re my sister,” he grumbled, sipping his black coffee.

“Yeah, well, I like her more,” Ally smirked. “She brings me cinnamon rolls. You just annoy me.”

“Cinnamon rolls?”

“They’ll be out of the oven in a few minutes,” Cece said, glancing over at the stove timer before sipping her coffee. She quickly dropped it back onto the counter when Ty squirmed, his little face scrunching as he rubbed against her collarbone. Bouncing him gently, her eyes shot to Ally, who sighed and glanced at her watch.

“Yup, about that time.” Reluctantly, Cece handed Ty over as he started to cry, a pitiful sound that had every adult in the kitchen stopping. Will was quickly at their side, his arm around Ally’s shoulders as he stared down at his son.

“Mornin’, kiddo,” he sighed, cupping his hand to the baby’s head as he looked at his wife. “Want me to take him while you get settled?” She shook her head.

“Mind grabbing the bag? He’ll need a change after.” Nodding, Will pecked Ally’s cheek and walked toward the front door, where the baby bag was stashed. “Save me a roll?” she asked, turning to Cece.

“Extra frosting.”

“And that’s why I love you more.” Throwing a wink at Jake, Ally made her way upstairs, smiling when Will walked behind her with his hand steady on her back. Jake felt a wave of envy and tried to tamp it down. His gaze drifted to Cece, who didn’t seem to realize - or mind - that she was leaning against him. Just a little shift, and she’d be tucked under his arm. Setting his coffee mug on the counter behind her, his thumb grazed her back and stroked lightly. Her eyes swung to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning,” she said softly.

“Mornin’.” His eyes dropped to her mouth as his hand slid along her back to curl around her hip. It’d only take a slight tug and a dip of his head for him to taste the sweetened coffee on her lips. “You sleep well?” Her shoulder lifted, hip pressing further into his grip as she shifted.

“It’s good to be home.”

“You’ve been gone a lot. Already got through a couple of your postcards.” Pink dusted her cheeks as Cece bit her lower lip.

“I know it was stupid but - ”

“Not stupid. I’m glad you wrote me.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to face you while you read them,” she admitted. “Was gonna mail them all at once, but when I saw you were back home…”

“You decided to give them to me after stealing my horse?” Mischief shone in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to reply when a beeping interrupted them.

“It smells good, Julie,” Pops called from the kitchen table, his eyes darting over to where they stood too close. A smile tugged at his mouth, and Jake saw Mama lightly kick him under the table. Cece quickly pulled away from Jake and walked toward the oven, grabbing a pair of mitts from the counter and putting them on. When she opened the oven, the kitchen was flooded with the smell of cinnamon and sugar.

“Looks like they're done,” she announced, setting the large pan on the stovetop. “Just gonna let them cool a minute before frosting.” It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to ask if she needed a hand, but instead, he stayed where he was, sipping his coffee and watching the love of his life move around the kitchen with a familiar comfort. There was no hesitation as she reached into the fridge to retrieve a container, and she located the drawers with spoons and the kitchen sheers immediately. A piping bag and jar were pulled from a sack on the counter, and Cece quickly spooned frosting into the bag.

“Need anything?” Mama asked, looking up from her coffee.

“Nope,” Cece replied, walking back to the stove and piping cream cheese frosting onto the rolls. Abandoning his coffee, Jake retrieved a stack of plates from the cabinet before standing beside her. Cece glanced at him, flicking her wrist with each swirl as she made quick work of the task. “Hand me the caramel sauce?” she asked after covering two rolls with extra frosting, presumably for Ally. Nodding, Jake retrieved the mason jar and twisted the top off. Swiping his thumb over the lid, he tasted the salted caramel and let out an appreciative hum. Try as she might to hide her smile, he caught her pressing her lips together. “Good?”

“I’d eat the whole damn jar.”

“You’ll have to fight Will for that one, but maybe I’ll make you your own if you don’t overdo it today.”

“Promise?” Rather than answer, she took the jar from him and shoved the piping bag into his hand. He squeeze a bit of the remaining frosting onto his finger, watching her drizzle the caramel over the cinnamon rolls before sticking his finger under the stream. “Hey!”

“Damn, honey, that’s good,” he chuckled, licking his finger clean of the sweet combination as she smacked his chest.

“Out of my kitchen, Farm Boy.”

“Pretty sure it’s Mama’s kitchen.”

“Keep it up, and you’ll be goin’ without.”

“You’d deprive a workin’ man of his breakfast?”

“Absolutely.” His loud laugh drew his parents' attention. “Make yourself useful and get me another cup of coffee, please.”

Over breakfast, Pops laid out the plan for the day. After milking, they needed to inspect one of the old buildings in the field the cows used for shade, and the truck needed an oil change. The horse stalls needed cleaning, and a yearling was getting picked up today to head to their new home. Ally and Will joined, Mama taking Tyler while they ate. One of the mares had come in from the corral favoring her leg, so Ally was going to do an x-ray to ensure nothing was wrong since she’d been lame for a few days.

Jake half listened, more concerned with the feeling of Cece’s leg pressed against his under the table.

Too soon, they were up and moving, clearing the table in preparation for going their separate ways. The dregs of coffee were poured into thermoses before Mama started another pot, and Jake watched as Ally helped Cece wrap a long strip of fabric around her chest before sliding Ty into it. “Guess you’re really stealing my WSO,” he said, coming up behind her to look over her shoulder at Tyler.

“Told ya,” she shrugged, tickling the baby’s cheeks as he shrieked and kicked his legs. “Gonna go to the hen house and get the eggs before Auntie’s gotta go.” Looking over her shoulder, she seemed surprised at how close he was. “What’s a WSO?” she asked, her voice just a bit breathless.

“Weapons System Officer,” he replied. “The backseater for a pilot that does all the tech stuff so they can focus on flying.”

“Ah. The backseater you never wanted,” she nodded, remembering those long ago nights when he’d just started flight school.

“I’d have one if they were like this kid.” Reaching around her, he smoothed a hand over Tyler’s head. It was cover for him to get even closer and say softly, “‘M sorry about yesterday. We still on for dinner tonight?”

“Want me to make something?”

“No, let’s go out. I heard there’s a new Italian place. Unless you don’t want people…” Jake trailed off, feeling a spike of anxiety at the thought of Cece not wanting to be seen with him. But after two weeks of being the subject of town gossip, he was also weary of offering up more.

“Italian sounds good. Want me to come get you, or are you gonna borrow the truck?”

“I’ll take the truck. Seven good?” She smiled and nodded, eyes darting behind him. The collar of his shirt got tighter against his throat as Will dragged him backward.

“Let’s go, lover boy. Stop usin’ my son to flirt.” Cece’s laugh rang in his ears as he allowed himself to be towed backward. When he winked, she rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss Tyler’s head.

True to her word, Cece was gone by the time Jake returned to the house for lunch. He helped himself to another cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll while Pops sliced tomatoes from Mama’s garden for their sandwiches. He’d kept his promise to take it easy on his knee, and spent some time on the couch icing it after eating, waiting for Ally to get back. Pops and Will were heading to the lumber store to get some boards for the new project while he was supposed to help with the horses.

It took some time to separate Dorrie from her foal, and angry whinnies and stomps filled the barn as the young horse made his displeasure known. Ty babbled from the baby jail, adding to the overall noise in the barn. Dorrie was a sweet mare and stood well when he held the halter so Ally could test the flex of her right foreleg. She’d arrived at the same time as the man picking up the yearling, so Mama took care of the sale while Jake was stuck being Ally’s tech. It was a bit painful to jog back and forth so Ally could study her gait, but it was good to push himself.

Jake felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He held the horse still and tried to keep the panel steady while Ally took an X-ray. Ideally, it was a three-person job, but she had another appointment to get to, and they couldn’t wait for Mama. After taking some images, she stood and held her hand out for the panel. “Alright, let’s get her back in the stall while I look at this. I think it’s just inflammation, but we’ll make sure.” Nodding, he loosened the lead rope tie and led Dorrie back into her stall. The foal was bucking in the corner, little hooves hitting the walls, but quickly settled down once Jake unclipped the rope. He’d be a fun one to work with, he mused - just a few months old and already about 12 hands tall, almost ready for weaning. He’d make a pretty show horse with a bit of training.

Coiling the rope around his hand, Jake stepped out of the stall and adjusted his hat. After checking that Ally didn’t need anything, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, eyebrows shooting up to see it was a notification from TikTok.

Cece had posted.

It had been months since he’d opened the app. In a moment of weakness, he’d checked to see if she posted anything while he was deployed and ignored the thousands of likes and comments on his video. Unable to stomach it, he’d subscribed to her account and decided he wouldn’t open it again. His thumb itched to hit the notification and watch the first video she’d posted since all the shit went down. “You need me for anything right now?” he asked, glancing at Ally. She balanced Ty on her hip as she peered down at the screen, examining Dorrie’s leg.

“Nope.” He nodded, walking out of the barn to lean against the corral. Wiping his mouth, Jake hesitated before tapping his screen. It took a minute for the app to load, and he caught a glimpse of another video before Cece’s opened.

“Hey guys, it’s been a while.” And there she was, pouring water into a bowl and mixing it with something. She wore the shirt he’d seen her in yesterday. “I decided to take some time off after everything that happened in December and focus on myself. I’m not sure if I ever told y’all this, but I haven’t traveled much. So that’s what I did.” Clips of her at different places flashed on the screen, a soft song playing in the background. There were forests and coasts, plains and mountains. City skyscrapers and little towns. He recognized the sights from her postcards and wasn’t surprised to see Lucy pop up in a couple of the clips. “I also finished my pastry degree. Before I left Austin, I did one of the two externships I needed, and only had one more six-week externship to graduate. So I worked in a hotel pastry department for a little while and did some exploring.”

Pictures of her in a white chef coat spun by, mixed in with ones of her hanging out. His eyebrows knit together in confusion - there hadn’t been anything in her postcards about that. And a few of the places she showed looked familiar. Those were gone in a flash, replaced by shots of her on a plane. “But mostly, I just had fun, which has been something I’ve been missing over the last couple of years. I went on my first international flight and spent a couple of weeks in Europe, and can’t wait to get back.” A clip of her eating a macaron in front of the Eifel Tower made him smile. “I really needed to figure out what I wanted to do. For a while, I’ve been thinking about leaving my hometown. I only came home because Daddy was sick” - videos of Brian helping Cece bake played - “and as much as I appreciated getting that extra time with him, Daddy didn’t want me to stay here after he passed. So I used this trip to test out possible places I might like to live.”

Jake's heart raced as he stared at the screen, watching as the travel clips shifted to her kneading dough and rolling it out. Mixing sugar. And he realized she was making the cinnamon rolls they’d had that morning. “I love where I grew up, but it hasn’t been home for a while. So, as much as I appreciate my customers, I’m sad to say that I’ll be officially closing my business in its current location as I’ll be branching out.” The phone shook in his hand, and Jake felt sweat beading on his forehead. “There’s no exact timeline, but I’m headed out west.”

And there it was. A picture of Cece standing in front of a mural, grinning as she gestured to the giant letters spelling out GREETINGS FROM SAN DIEGO.

Jake laughed, clapping a hand to his mouth to stifle it as tears clouded his vision. Blinking them away, he turned up the volume to hear Cece as she cut the cinnamon rolls and placed them in the baking dish. “I’m so excited for this next chapter, and I hope you’ll tag along as this country girl tries out city living. As soon as I’m ready to take orders, you’ll be the first to know.” Her eyes lifted from the dish, and she stared directly into the camera, a slow smile gracing her lips. When the video started to loop, Jake sat down hard, dropping his head into his hands as he clicked the comments already in the thousands.

OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK!

California! I’m so excited I’ll get to try your stuff now!

Okay, but what about Jake??? Isn’t that where he lives?????!!!!!!

The last one had over a hundred comments under it and two thousand likes. Shutting the app, Jake pulled up his contacts, thumb hovering over Cece’s name. But instead of tapping it, he locked his phone and got to his feet. Hurrying into the barn, he spotted Mama and Ally standing outside Dorrie’s stall. Both women looked up at him as he jogged toward them, their looks of concern at the tears on his cheek fading when they saw his broad grin. “I gotta go.”

“You know where the truck keys are,” Mama said.

“Tell Julie it’s about time,” Ally added. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how long they’d known, but he resisted.

Dust kicked up under the tires as he tore down the driveway and skidded onto the road. Thankfully, no sheriffs were around as he sped through Magnolia, fighting against hitting the horn at anyone who slowed him down. Soon - but not soon enough - he was turning onto Cece’s road. Her SUV was parked under the carport.

His boots were loud on the concrete as he slammed the truck shut and flew up the few steps to her porch to pound on the door. The curtain twitched. A heartbeat later, the door flew open, and Cece stood before him. “Were you tryin’ to - ” Jake cut her off, cupping her face and tilting it up. His kiss was frantic, lips crushing against hers as he smiled and laughed. Her fingers gripped his shirt, and Jake was sure she could feel his racing heart. His hands moved to her hips, gently drawing her out of the house and into his arms. “Break it down?” Cece panted against his mouth when they finally broke apart to breathe. Her eyes slowly opened, lifting to meet his. Their second kiss was more gentle, and she sighed when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, opening to allow him to taste her tongue. When his hands dropped to her ass, hauling her closer, Cece laughed against his mouth and gently pushed him away. “We’re not giving my neighbors a show.”

Were he not injured, Jake would have picked her up and carried her into the house at that moment. But he satisfied himself by peppering her face with kisses until she giggled. “You’re comin’ to California?” Some of the joy in her eyes dimmed, and she gave him a hesitant look. Her hands trailed down his arms to tangle their fingers, pulling him into the house and kicking the door closed. As soon as it shut, one hand went into her hair, the other crossing her chest as though to protect herself. When Jake reached for her, she stopped him.

“I am. I… I did my externship in San Diego and really liked it there.”

“You did? You were there for six weeks? When?”

“While you were gone. I wanted to see if I liked it without you…” her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she tried to find the words. “Clouding my judgment.”

It hurt to hear that, but Jake knew it was a smart move. “You coulda stayed at my place.” A wry smile graced her lips when she shook her head.

“I needed a Farm Boy free trip to make my decision.” Teeth dug into her lower lip as Cece reached for his hands, squeezing gently. “Jake, I need you to…” She paused and took a deep breath, forehead dropping to his chest momentarily before her head lifted. Her eyes were guarded when she said, “I’m not moving there for you.” Hurt and fear that she was ending this before it began slammed into him. Jake stumbled back a step, but Cece’s grip on him was firm. “I needed to make that decision for myself, without you. I can’t move somewhere - start my life over again - for someone else. Again. It needs to be for me. I’m going out there because it’s what I want to do. Being with you isn’t the draw. But it’s certainly a perk.” Jake nodded, unable to get a sound out around the lump in his throat. Her brows drew together in concern, and she cupped his face, her thumb rasping on his stubbled cheek as she brushed away a tear. “I love you, Farm Boy.”

“I love you too, Cupcake,” he forced out after clearing his throat.

Time seemed to slow as they kissed, and Jake laughed when Cece lifted his Stetson from his head, tossing it toward the couch. Her hands tugged his shirt from his jeans before hooking in his belt buckle and pulling him toward her bedroom. A trail of clothes littered the floor, but neither seemed in a hurry as they took time to explore one another. Jake swallowed hard when Cece kissed the surgical scar on his left knee and ran her hands along his body in search of any other hurts. She trembled with anticipation as he kissed from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, the featherlight brushes of his lips contrasting with the coarse feeling of his beard. On his way back up, his shoulders forced her thighs wide as he took her apart with deliberate care, reveling in the feeling of her hands tangled in his hair and the soft gasps and moans she let out.

Cece could see her arousal coating his mouth when she opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her and tasted herself on his tongue. Jake’s cock was hot and hard on the crease of her hip, and he shuddered when she lightly ran her nails down his spine. The tips of her fingers dug into the tense muscles of his lower back, forcing him to bite back a groan. Her touch felt so fucking good. Especially her leg lifting and curling around his hip. “Baby, I don’t have a condom,” he sighed, swallowing hard as his cock slid through her wet folds.

“In the drawer,” she replied, nipping his lip playfully. Jealousy shot through him at the idea of her having those, using them with someone else. It must have shown on his face because Cece laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Some farm boy fighter pilot came through Magnolia over Christmas and left before we could use them.”

“What an idiot,” Jake chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

Cece’s laugh was music to his ears as he reached into the drawer, her fingers following the trail of hair on his stomach as he rolled the condom on. The sweet sound was only a second to the gasping moan she let out when he pressed into her.

And, for the first time in a decade, Jake Seresin felt like he was home.

---------------------------------------

Author's Note: Oh man, this chapter was so fun and sad to write. Watching Twisters definitely helped to develop Cowboy Jake more, and I was so excited to write him getting back to his roots, and figuring out how to mix Hangman with Farm Boy. And to see how Cece grew. She has needed to leave her home for a long time, and needed to make her own decisions regarding her life.

And, while I said that this was the last chapter, I decided to break the epilogue off into a separate part since this chapter is already massive. Apologies for that 😅 I debating cutting parts but May yelled at me to leave it.

Read the Epilogue

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#top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #'tis the damn season fic #cowboy Jake Seresin

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stygiansauce · 3 months ago

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(i’m so sorry if i’ve been bombarding you with asks, i just have literally no one else to talk to about this)

does tango casually wear some “cowboy” clothing (plaid button up or plain tshirt with jeans combo, cowboy boots, tool belt, the hat, caps if no hat, etc.)? i’d like to think that tango walks into the lab with his boots clicking and the rest just simultaneously look to the sky and go “ah mr 1875 farmhand cattle rancher and herder has arrived”

and does tango read in a monotone voice if he reads book aloud? like if he was asked to read shakespeare out loud would he monotone with a country drawl recite it? a lot of my friends with accents do that so i’d think it’d be pretty funny if tango does that too

- 💿

The asks fuel my writing CD anon, never feel like its too much to reach out!!

Tango does have some Cowboy clothes! Without spoiling my plans for chapter five...lots of them make an appearence soon. (all links are for educational or visualization purposes)

somewhere in an earlier ask I put a WIP for chapter six where Tango is digging around in a machine and Jimmy is feeling gay things about it? That scene is about as "cowboy" as Tango gets.

Since coming to the north he is greatful for all the flannels and button up shirts he owns because they help him layer against the cold. he mostly defaults to t-shirts or long sleeve shirts because they're easy to push out of the way when working with dirty machine parts. His regualrly wearing a jacket, and thats just a stetson he's had since highschool. I imagine it as a dark color, probably a faded black by now.

He does have boots. roper boots are the style, the ones with the high ankle cover that are easy (ish) to pull on. He has two pairs of these. The ones in his truck that he doesn't bother taking his spurs off of (they're still muddy from the ranch and he doesn't have the heart to clean them. they sit in his truck for days he's feeling particularly homesick) and the new clean pair that have never seen ranch work. He wears them because they're what he knows, dispite Etho begging him to get some steal-toe boots like the rest of them. (yes he has broken two toes since moving into the TIES lab.)

He is always wearing jeans. If you don't see him in jeans he is either, A) hiding them under chaps or B) at a formal event that requires dress pants. I will say, he owns one of the big chunky belts you see most rodeo guys wear. You kind of need a big belt to hold up all the shit cowboys hang from their waist. He keeps that in the back of his closet and wears a standard dark leather belt now. Much to Skizz's delight, Tango doesn't wear an apron or a tool belt when he's working on a project. Where impulse uses a stainless steel tray that he sets near his work station, and Etho keeps everything in a box he wheels around, and Skizz uses a toolbelt when needed--Tango uses a leather belt bag. The same one he's had his whole life. It used to hold little tools he'd use on the ranch, the kind that would get lost in a saddle bag, and now it holds whatever he needs for lab projects.

He does have a hat. I cannot say anything about hat other than it is a cattleman and dark in color. I would like to put him in other hats, like a baseball cap. I have not found a place to do that yet--but I think about it a lot.

He looks a lot less like a cowboy now than he did in undergrad, thats for sure. But you cant take the practicality out of a man who was raised by very straight forward, efficient ranch hands. He knows what he comfortable in, whats warm, and what will get in the way of his work.

For more Ex-cowboy Tango, check out Margin of Error! My betas and I have been calling chapter four (Fire line) the Horse Lore chapter...there really is a crapton of horse lore in it already. Have a great day CD anon!!

#margin of error #margin of error ask #margin of error headcannons #tango tek #southern tango tek #skizzleman #ethoslab #impulsesv #team ties #college au #Cowboy tango tek #3rd life smp #trafficblr #fanfic #team ranchers #solidaritek #rancher duo

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ninzied · 1 year ago

Text

weeds

based on the prompt: a kiss on a falling tear. brownstone/bonus chapter era. 600 word ficlet.

Henry has been surrounded by flowers all his life.

Flowers in every hallway and room. Atop every table and flanking every door that led to yet more hallways, yet more rooms. Flowers that were fussed over, flowers that were arranged to perfection despite being replaced at least once a day. Flowers in the palace gardens where Henry used to escape as a child, wishing the mazes could swallow him whole.

Flowers at the funeral.

Flowers at the royal wedding, when his life jump-started again.

And now, flowers in the brownstone that Alex has just moved into with him. They’re daisies in an assortment of colors. Nothing extraordinary, though they would’ve turned heads at the palace for that very reason alone. Henry’s pretty sure they’re classified as weeds, technically speaking.

He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

That is, apart from the man who’s just brought them home on a whim, who’s now calling to Henry over his shoulder, “Babe, do you think these would look good in a mug?”

Henry thinks he would love them anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever he can. This little life he’s building with Alex is the brightest, fullest, most incredible thing, and he will not take a single bit of it for granted.

They go to the MoMA. It’s the first touristy thing that they’ve done since moving in together. And, Henry realizes, watching Alex tear through his wardrobe looking for the perfect cover, it’s one of the first museums he’ll have been to during normal daylight hours.

Alex gleefully poses Henry in all the various hats that he owns. He makes a grave miscalculation when it comes to his black Stetson, which delays their leaving the house by many, many hours. Alex finally comes to the breathless conclusion that it would draw too much attention if Henry were to wear it outside.

(“Mm,” says Henry, still catching his breath back himself. “You can’t possibly mean from you, of course.”

“Definitely not,” Alex agrees, already moving to kiss him again.)

They walk hand-in-hand through the museum sometime even later, in baseball caps and soft t-shirts, and Henry can’t believe this gets to be his life now. They let themselves be jostled along with the crowds, Angus up ahead of them. He needn’t be; no one so much as looks at them twice.

Eventually, they wander their way up to the fifth level. They step into a room where Henry finds himself once again surrounded by flowers.

The largest painting occupies three panels, spanning a significant length of the room. Gran has taken great pride in the royal collection over the years, pieces the family could access in private whenever they so pleased. But there’s something about standing here, with Alex. Just two people, being in love while looking at art. Like it’s something extraordinary, this beautifully ordinary thing they can do.

“Huh,” Alex murmurs, reading the placard. “Took him twelve years to paint this.” He squeezes Henry’s hand, then adds almost offhandedly: “I think that’s about how long it took after seeing you in J14 for the first time. Getting to finally kiss you, I mean.”

Henry looks at Alex with a feeling much too big for words. He smiles, his chest aching with it. The feeling wells up, touching the edges of his vision until he sees in watercolor. “Darling,” he says. “Are you comparing our love story to a Monet?”

“Please.” Alex looks affronted. “This guy’s got nothing on us.”

It’s blasphemous, surely. But as Alex leans in, kissing away a tear on his cheek, Henry thinks he’s secretly rather inclined to agree.

also on ao3.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #iuserzoe #usernuria #userveronika #usersteen #chrissiewatts #carrythesky #sheisraging #lookstevie #sometimes i badger zoë into giving me fic ideas

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avastrasposts · 10 months ago

Text

Big Sky Country - ch. 10

This chapter was a long time coming and I've been struggling with inspiration to write the final part of this story. There is only the epilogue left after this, but I can't say when I'll have it done. But, at least, I'm wrapping up Frankie and Aisling's story now, leaving them in a happy place with a lot of future ahead of them.

Plot: In Big Sky Country we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar. life doesn't follow straight paths.

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC Aisling

Warnings: None, this is all fluff

Word count: 4.6k

“Fish!”

The loud whoop could be heard through the closed windows of the truck as the engine went quiet.

“What the fuck are they doing here?” Frankie said, shaking his head while Aisling gave him a confused look.

“Do you know them?” she asked and Frankie nodded, pushing the door open.

“Yeah, my friends from the army, but I don’t know why they’re here,” he said and got out as a tall blonde man bounded down the steps.

“Fish!” he yelled, a big grin on his face, but as Aisling opened the door on her side and stepped out, a look of confusion flashed across his face before he smiled wide at Frankie again. He was on him in a couple of long steps and Aisling couldn’t help smiling as he effortlessly picked up Frankie in a bear hug.

“Benny, you’re fucking squashing me,” Frankie laughed, patting the man on the back to get him to let up on his bone crushing grip. Behind him two other men had stepped off the porch, another blonde man almost as tall and big as the first, but older, and a shorter dark haired man who caught Aisling’s eye and smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Santiago,” he said, coming over and putting his hand out to her. His handshake was firm and warm, she could feel the calluses on his palm, and it reminded her of Frankie.

“Aisling, nice to meet you,” she replied as Frankie got a hug from the other blonde man and Benny came over with a bright, curious smile with his hand out.

“Hi, I’m Benny,” he grinned down at her and she had a moment to think he really was the biggest man she’d seen until the other blonde man offered his hand and introduced himself as Will. It was like standing in front of a wall of men. The three of them, especially the blondes, wide as barn doors, all built in the same broad shouldered form as Frankie. He came over to her side just as she introduced herself to Benny and Will and got a big hug from the man called Santiago.

“Good to see you, Pope,” he mumbled as the other man clapped him on the back.

Frankie stepped back and stood next to Aisling, his hands deep in his pockets and looking utterly uncomfortable and confused under the brim of his Stetson.

“Love the cowboy hat, Fish,” Benny chuckled, swiping it off his head and swapping his own cap for it, tilting the brim at Frankie with a two fingered “Howdy.”

“Fuck off, Benny,” Frankie sighed with a smirk, “What are you guys even doing here?”

“You invited us, Fish,” Santiago said, his eyebrows furrowing, “I sent you the details two days ago.”

“Yeah, for the 15th, Pope,” Frankie replied but Will immediately shook his head.

“No, the 5th, I booked it,” he said and Frankie pulled out his phone, getting Pope’s message out and seeing that the date was indeed the 5th.

“Fuck….” he sighed, “I messed up the dates, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, we were kinda confused when you didn’t pick up the phone, but that explains it,” Will said, “We met Herb down at the ranch and he told us you were out on the trail today.”

Frankie shook his head, his face deeply apologetic, “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t focused when I read your mail, Pope. I…I had other things on my mind,” he stuttered and no one missed his quick glance at Aisling who was starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah, we can see that, Fish,” Pope smiled at Aisling who felt her cheeks heat up as all four men were suddenly looking at her.

“Sorry, I kinda showed up unexpectedly a couple of days ago,” she said with a grimace, looking over at Frankie.

“So, how’d you two-”

“Fish, show us your cabin and let’s get the grill going, we brought food and beer,” Will interrupted Benny, stepping between him and Aisling and grabbing hold of Frankie’s arm, propelling him towards the house. Pope stepped round them and easily hooked an arm around Aisling’s shoulders and got her walking towards the house with him, leaving Benny to catch up.

“It’s nice to meet you, good to see that Frankie’s got some company out here,” Santiago smiled, “let’s see if we can dig out that grill, I think I saw around the side earlier.

Thankful for Santiago’s distraction, Aisling helped him set it up while Benny hauled a couple of coolers from the back of their rental truck. Setting up a camping table next to the BBQ, they soon had it going just as Will and Frankie returned outside with plates and utensils for the BBQ.

“Any outdoor seating, Fish?” Santiago asked and Frankie shook his head.

“No, just the bench on the porch and a couple of deck chairs, stairs’ll have to do.”

“Alright, man, sounds good. Cheers!” Santiago held his beer up to the group and everyone followed suit, clinking bottles and taking long swigs. Frankie caught Aisling’s eyes over the brim of his bottle and she gave him a small smile. He knew he’d have to field a lot of questions from the guys and he wished he’d had a moment to talk to her before they started asking.

“Frankie, before I forget,” Aisling suddenly said, “Can you help me get my bag down from the closet, I couldn’t reach it this morning and I’ve got my sweater in it.”

Frankie looked confused for a second while Aisling nodded towards the cabin and left the guys standing by the BBQ. Then it clicked.

“Yeah, sure. Give me a second, guys, be right back.”

He hurried after Aisling and followed her into the cabin. He knew her bag was on the floor of his bedroom, and not on top of any closet, and now he followed her in there.

“I’m sorry about this, Ash,” he said as soon as he’d closed the door behind them, “I had no idea they’d turn up today.”

“It’s fine, ‘Fish’,” she smiled at him, “They seem really nice. I just wanted to ask you what we tell them? Do they know we met in Brooklyn?”

Frankie shook his head as his hand flew up to rub his neck while he grimaced at her with a pained expression.

“No, I haven’t talked to them in a while. Pope knows Eva and I broke up, I talked to him just after I got back from New York. But I didn’t tell him about you.”

“Which one is Pope?” Aisling asked, taking his hand from his neck and threading her fingers through his.

“Santiago, Pope’s his call sign, like mine’s Catfish,” Frankie explained, “Will is Ironhead, Benny is just Benny.”

He sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning his forehead against hers, “I wanna tell them everything, if you’re ok with that. Or at least, that we met in New York, that we’re….” Frankie trailed off, giving a small shrug before he continued, “I mean, we didn’t talk about this yet, what we are? Are we dating?”

“I’d say we are, Fish,” Aisling replied with a small smile, “And…I don’t know, they’ll figure out I’m staying with you so just tell them I came out here to stay with you for a bit? We don’t have to tell them all the details about New York.”

“Pope knows I came back here from New York after Eva and I broke up, but he doesn’t know about the abortion. I’ll tell him eventually, but not now,” Frankie said, shaking his head. He knew he wanted all three of them to know the whole story eventually, so that they understood why he wasn’t with Eva anymore. But it had been such a long time since all four of them had been together, tonight shouldn’t be about him. “I don’t want to bring it down, or make it weird, just make it…easy? And I don’t want them to think I made some sort of rash decision with you and that this isn’t real, you know? I want them to know you and like you and it’s just been so long and-”

Aisling cupped her hands around his cheeks, stroking her thumbs over the scruffy bear, “Frankie, it’s nothing to worry about,” she could see the anxiety in his eyes as he went through fifty different scenarios in just a few seconds, his head starting to reel, “If they ask, we just tell them we met in Brooklyn while you were there, and now I’m here to stay with you for a while and see where it leads, how about that?”

Frankie took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his mind calm down as Aisling continued to stroke his cheeks, the soft touch grounding him.

“Yeah, sounds good, sounds like a plan,” he sighed, opening is eyes and looking down at her, “What the fuck would I do without you, Ash?” he asked, giving her a small smile.

“Without me all these questions wouldn’t be popping up,” she smiled back, leaning in and giving him a kiss, “But I don’t mind fielding them, I’ve been a bartender in New York, three ex-military guys is a piece of cake. C’mon, let’s get some BBQ going,” she grinned at him and put her hand in his again.

She still had a firm grip on it as they returned to the front porch, the smell of burning coal already drifting from the grill. Will glanced up and noticed, his mouth pulling up in a quick smile while Benny hauled the cooler of beers to the edge of the porch stairs.

“The coals will need some time to get nice and hot,” Will said, giving the BBQ a final look before he came over to the stairs and sat down on the bottom one, stretching out his long legs as Aisling and Frankie sat down too. Frankie leaned back as he scratched through his sweaty curls and hooked his arm around her waist. Benny passed them both beers and Pope lifted his, clinking it with Frankie’s.

“Salud, el pececito,” he said with a grin, “Good to see you again, man. And it’s really nice to meet you Aisling.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Frankie huffed with a chuckle, lifting his bottle to Pope too, “And same, it’s good to have you here.”

They all raised their bottles and echoed the sentiment, Ashling joining in and getting a warm smile from Will. She already liked him, he seemed stable and quiet, and in tune with what the other three men were feeling.

“What does that mean?” she asked, “El pececito?”

“Little fish!” Pope declared with a grin while Frankie sighed. Aisling laughed and patted his head, she was sitting a step above him and he’d put his arm around her as he leaned back.

“So ‘fish sticks’ isn’t so bad then, huh, Fishy?” she teased him as he groaned, knowing what was coming.

Benny nearly choked on his beer as he snorted, spraying beer over his shoes as Pope and Will laughed, Will also reaching up and slapping his brother’s back.

“Oh shit, beer totally just came out of my nose but it was worth it,” Benny coughed, wiping his grinning face, “‘Fish sticks’? I’m using that!”

“Only Ash is allowed to call me that, Benny,” Frankie sighed as he playfully poked Aisling, “You are in so much trouble, cariño.”

She winked at Frankie as Benny continued to laugh, “I like her, Fish, good catch.”

“Any more fish references and you’re getting kicked out,” Frankie said with a mock serious tone, “Besides, I’ve heard them all before you know.”

“Yeah, you need to update your repertoire,” Pope nodded, “No repeating decade old jokes.”

Benny just shook his head, flipping Pope the finger while sipping his beer again.

“So you guys met in New York?” Will asked, his tone casual but Aisling had the feeling he was subtly starting the interrogation part of the conversation, “Are you from there?” His clear blue eyes were friendly as he looked at her and she didn’t mind his questions.

“Yes, on both accounts. I grew up in Brooklyn and I met Frankie when he walked into the bar I was working at, looking very much like a lost cowboy.”

“I didn’t look that much like a cowboy, and I wasn’t that lost,” Frankie protested, “I just had some time to kill and your bar looked nice.”

“You were wearing cowboy boots and a belt buckle the size of Texas,” she pointed out, smiling down at him as he chuckled.

“Yeah, fair point,” he admitted, scratching his beard as he thought back to the day he’d walked into the bar. He’d been pretty lost, not physically lost, but mentally. He could still remember the feeling he had in his body as he walked down the street to Eva’s apartment, the long hours on the bus in his limbs, the worry in his head about how to handle the prospect of a child with her, how to live in New York. The temporary relief he’d felt in Aisling’s company from the start had been unexpected but flooded him and calmed in a way he’d never felt before. He looked up at her sitting next to him now on the stairs of his cabin, something he’d thought was an impossible dream just two days ago, and something loosened his chest. She continued telling the guys the story about their first meeting, and he moved himself just a little bit closer, tightening his arm around her hips. She felt it and dropped her hand to his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze in response as she smiled at his friends.

“You guys should’ve seen his face when I told him the price of the beer he’d just had, he almost fell off the stool,” she grinned, giving his shoulder another squeeze as she looked down at him with warm eyes.

The guys laughed as Frankie shook his head in protest, but he was laughing too.

“This little minx sold me the most expensive beer on the menu, claimed it was her favorite and then charged me fourteen fifty without even blinking,” he said, giving Aisling’s side a teasing poke as she snorted, “And then she had the balls to ask me if I wanted another one.”

“It was a great beer!”

“Yeah, but not worth fourteen fifty,” Frankie said, his brown eyes almost disappearing as he grinned up at her and she grabbed his chin between her thumb and fore finger, tugging at it lightly as she gave his nose a quick peck.

“Totally worth it, I tell you, since you got me too.”

Frankie looked as if he was mulling that over for a couple of seconds before he slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her closer for a kiss.

“Yeah, ok, worth it,” he smiled against her lips.

“Enough,” Pope laughed, “this beer,” he waved his bottle at the two of them, “might not be fourteen fifty but I’m trying to keep it down, you know what I’m saying?”

Aisling felt her cheeks heat up as Frankie pulled back a little, but his hand moved down her leg and he was still holding her close, his arm around her waist.

“How’s ranch life then, for a New Yorker?” Will asked, taking a swig of his beer, the same easy tone to his questions.

“I’ve only been here two days, but it’s good,” Aisling smiled at him, “Frankie gave me riding lessons yesterday and today we went out on the trail up into the mountains, it’s really beautiful and I haven’t gotten over how big and open it is out here, it’s just endless.”

“Better than New York?” Pope asked, and something in his tone made Frankie look over at him, but the dark haired man just quirked his eyebrow back at him as Aisling nodded, she could guess what he meant too and she smiled at him.

“So much better, on all accounts,” she said, looking over at Frankie, “Frankie showed me photos of this place before I came and I thought it was beautiful then too, but nothing compares to seeing it first hand. It’s just…” she shook her head like she couldn’t find the words to describe it, “I don’t even know, it just feels so much better, the air, the sky, the surroundings...”

“The company,” Benny butted in with a grin and Aisling laughed.

“Yeah, the company too,” she said and ruffled the top of Frankie’s head as he gave her leg a squeeze.

Aisling looked over at the other three men again and grimaced, wrinkling her nose, “I…I guess it’s kinda weird for you guys to come here and find some strange woman in Frankie’s life,” she said, glancing at Santiago before meeting Will’s steady gaze, “You guys don’t know me and you’ve never heard of me, and I understand if you wonder what the fuck this is and who I am…” she trailed off but Will nodded.

“I didn’t expect Frankie to have a new girlfriend, and I think we were all surprised to meet you, but it’s not a bad thing,” he reassured her, “We’ve know Frankie for a very long time, and I think we can all see the difference in him today compared to when we last saw him back in Florida. Whatever you’re doing, it seems to be working.”

“It is,” Frankie cut in, “When things with Eva didn’t work out, the last thing I needed was to meet someone new, but with Aisling, it’s been easy from the start, well….” he stopped himself and looked at Aisling who had raised her eyebrows with a small smirk, “Ok, maybe not easy, outside circumstances made it difficult, but I never had to think about if you were right or not.”

Aisling smiled at him, “You know I felt the same,” she said and wrapped her arms around Frankie, giving him a big kiss on his cheek as he grinned and the rest of the guys chuckled.

Will shifted in his seat and took a sip off his beer while he looked at the two of them, seeming to consider his next words.

“You look happy, Fish, really happy,” he said, pausing and looking between the two of them with a thoughtful look and seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say next as Pope glanced over at him. Instead he drank from his beer again instead, a small furrow between his eyebrows.

But Frankie guessed what Will was thinking about, “She knows about my addiction, the PTSD, everything. I even told her about Colombia,” Frankie said, “I had to tell her, I need to go into this without any secrets.”

Aisling nodded next to him, “This, between us, is…really new, but it’s good. It’s really good and I’m not scared by Frankie’s past, but I’m not going into it blind, I know he’s got a lot to work on.”

“And you’re still clean, Fish?” Will asked.

“945 days,” Frankie said without needing to think about it, pulling a small bronze chip from his pocket, “Never again.”

“That’s awesome, Fish!” Benny exclaimed, reaching over and giving him a clap on the back, “You worked hard at it, it’s great to see something good coming into your life too.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Frankie replied, rubbing his shoulder, “just a bit too fucking hard.”

“Welcome to the mayhem, Aisling,” Pope laughed, “Never accept hugs from Benny.”

“Fuck off,” Benny shot back but he couldn’t resist flexing his thick arms, showing off his physique.

“I hope you’ve got a trip up on the trail with the horses planned for us too, Fish,” Will said, “we brought the gear for it.”

“Yeah, of course, I planned with Herb after Pope called. We can go tomorrow if you’re all up for it?” Frankie replied, “You think you can handle another day in the saddle, Ash?”

“Yeah, if we go slow. I’d love to go up there again,” she nodded and Frankie smiled, giving her hip a squeeze.

“How about camping up there?” Benny asked, excitement showing on his face but Will just sighed and Pope cursed.

“You want to go camping? Haven’t we all spent enough nights in tents?” he asked as Will pushed to his feet to check on the BBQ.

“Yeah, seriously, Benny, I’ve done that enough,” he sighed, lining up the hot dogs and burger patties on the grill, “No more.

“C’mon, I bet Aisling’s never been camping,” Benny pushed, pointing at Ash who was nodding.

“I haven’t actually, and Frankie was gonna plan a camping trip for me, so maybe we can all go?” She looked at Frankie and then over at Pope and Will. Pope groaned and Will chuckled.

“I’m not saying no to Fish’s girlfriend on the first night, I guess we’re going camping, Pope.”

“Awesome,” Benny grinned, giving Aisling a quick nudge, “You’ll love it, we’ll get a big fire going, I make the best s’mores!”

The evening went on with the same theme, the guys were joking around, poking fun at each other and re-telling stories for Aisling’s benefit, their loud laughter echoed around the surrounding countryside as darkness fell. She sat tucked in under Frankie’s arm on the porch swing, Pope on the other side, while Frankie rocked the three of them back and forth. She looked over at him as his eyes disappeared in his face, doubled over with laughter from Benny’s story. He was telling them about a date he’d been on last month that had started with him bringing his date lilies, which she turned out to be allergic too, and ended when he brought her to a steakhouse, only to find out she was vegan.

“I think I could’ve saved it after the lilies, I got her allergy tablets on the way to the restaurant, but the vegan thing….” he shook his head as the rest of them laughed, “you should’ve seen her face when we pulled up to the place and there was a big bull’s head above the door.” Benny made a grimace that sent them all into laughter again and next to her Aisling her Frankie almost choked as he took a sip from his beer. He winked at her as she patted his back, looking the most relaxed she’d ever seen him. It was easy to see that hanging out with old friends, sharing stories and just easy laughter, was doing him a lot more good than he probably realized.

As the evening began to wind down, plans were made for the camping, the guys would go into Big Sky first thing in the morning for supplies while Frankie got the gear on the ranch ready. Aisling decided she needed some better clothes for camping so she’d join them too. Frankie shot her a worried look when she said that and Pope laughed.

“Frankie’s scared we’ll tell you all the embarrassing stories if you go alone with us,” he chuckled, “don’t worry, Fish, we’ll save that for the campfire.”

“Very helpful, thanks, Pope,” Frankie replied, beginning to stack the plates as he rolled his eyes, behind his back Pope winked at Aisling, “We should get a move on though, early start tomorrow to get all the gear ready.”

It took a while longer, but eventually the three guys piled into their rented car and headed back to the ranch. Aisling yawned widely as Frankie locked the door to the cabin behind them and flicked off the kitchen light. She waited for him at the door to the bathroom and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“You’ve got really great friends,” she said and Frankie smiled, nodding in agreement as he walked her backwards towards the counter, his arms on her shoulders.

“Yeah, they’re good guys,” he said, “it was great seeing them, it wasn’t as weird as I thought it’d be.”

“You’ve got people around you who care about you, Frankie, but you seem to be pretty good at forgetting that sometimes,” Aisling said in a soft voice as she caressed his back, lightly scratching as he hummed in agreement.

“You’re not the first one to tell me that,” he admitted, “Herb has told me many times too, but I get too much in my head and think they’re better off without me, or that they don’t want me around while I’m a mess.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re dumb ass, Frankie,” she scoffed with a smile as she tugged at his chin, “a total dumb ass sometimes.”

She heaved herself up on the counter next to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush.

“Gee, thanks,” Frankie snorted, but he was smiling too, “and you’re not the first person to call me a dumb ass, but hearing it from my girlfriend is always very heartwarming.”

“Just making sure you’re aware, pass the tooth paste, please,” she replied, leaning forward as handed her the tube, and giving him a kiss on the cheek, “and I like it when you call me your girlfriend.”

“I noticed,” he smiled, “it made your cheeks go all pink when I did it tonight, I’m gonna have to use it more often.”

“If you do, I won’t call you ‘fish sticks’ in front of Benny again,” she smiled and started brushing her teeth as Frankie rolled his eyes with exaggeration at her.

“I will never hear the end of that, you have no idea. These guys do not forget. Gathering information for black mailing is literally part of our training for special ops.”

Aisling grinned around her toothbrush and Frankie gave her forehead a peck before he began brushing his own teeth.

“What was that for?” she asked, tilting her head back to stop the toothpaste from escaping her mouth.

“Yorrkuut,” Frankie slurred and Aisling giggled and rinsed her mouth, spitting in the sink.

“No idea what you just said.”

Frankie spat too, “You’re cute,” he repeated with a smile as Aisling slid off the counter.

“Not as cute as you ‘Fish sticks’, see you in the bedroom.”��

Frankie gave her butt a quick swat as she slipped out of the bathroom, he could hear her giggling as she rummaged around in her bag next to the bed. He put away his toothbrush and grabbed the mouthwash as he looked at himself in the mirror. The man who faced him looked different, he was smiling widely, and even though the lines around his eyes were still there, his patchy beard changing to gray faster than he’d like, he looked brighter and happier. It was a change that had come in just two days and he knew it was because he was starting to see a future a lot different from the one he’d envisioned less than a week ago. And he felt different, he could feel it in his chest, in his stomach, and above all, in his head. It was all calmer, steadier, and he felt level in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. It wasn’t just a maybe now, it was starting to become reality, a reality he could trust in to be more long term even if there was work to be done.

He rubbed his hand over his jaw as he rinsed the mouthwash around his teeth, studying himself; dark curls that were getting long, the gray at his temples, deep lines on his forehead, the faint scar on his left cheek and all the thoughts he could see rolling in his head. He spat out the mouthwash and inhaled deeply, still looking at himself, still calm. There was no flare of panic at thinking about the future, no fear. Just a steady confidence that he could do this.

You’ve got this, Morales, you can handle it. Whatever ‘it’ is, you can handle it because you got this far and she believes in you and so do your friends.

He gave himself a crooked smile in the mirror, and flicked off the light, making his way down to the bedroom and Aisling waiting for him.

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