Multi-fandom fanatic who is a long way from home! Loves writing, reading, and dreaming. Known to be a closet romantic, sarcastic ray of sunshine....... No this is not a dating ad. That being said..... My Personality type: INFJ, Gryffindor, Wampus, and Cancer
Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: blood mention
A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!
Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month.
And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in.
To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important.
Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought.
“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up.
“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”
A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody.
With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside.
You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.
Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago).
He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke.
Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met.
“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.
But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.
“Y/N, what the hell?
His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–
With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago.
His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you.
“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”
“Y/N, who did this to you?”
“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”
“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit.
You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”
“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”
“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.
A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained.
“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”
“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”
“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly.
You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson.
“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.”
Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”
“Muffins– yes.”
A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out.
And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins.
“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”
“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”
You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”
“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.
Your eyes widened even more.
“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”
“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin.
The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter.
“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.
“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet.
“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off.
“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”
“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom.
For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help.
He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use.
“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”
You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it.
You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful?
Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”
Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut.
“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.
Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”
“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”
“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand.
Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”
You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”
“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”
“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”
“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”
You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile.
“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”
“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself.
“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”
“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked.
“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”
“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”
“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed.
“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad.
“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep.
“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?”
You weren’t. But you nodded anyway.
The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch.
“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”
You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.
“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours.
His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back.
Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.
“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.
You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly.
His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck.
God, he really was beautiful.
Luke smirked. “Thanks.”
“What?” you whispered.
“I think you’re beautiful, too.”
Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?
Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck.
Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him.
Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss– into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back.
And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”
Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”
Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”
It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”
“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”
“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest.
“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.
You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”
You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”
A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”
“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”
You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted.
summary: your pumpkins keep disappearing. the culprit? a mischievous dog. the bigger problem? her annoyingly handsome owner.
includes: no use of y/n, canine crime syndicate (one very proud pumpkin thief), cozy porch aesthetics, arguments that sound suspiciously like flirting, neighborhood spectacle level chaos, the audacity of one (1) smug smile, pumpkin-based emotional trauma, reluctant forgiveness and even more reluctant attraction, Roxy the unrepentant menace, fluff. that's all, is just corny comedic fluff.
halloween 2025
Mid-September rolls in with sweater weather and woodsmoke and the annual urge to buy way too many decorative pumpkins. You embrace it wholeheartedly–autumn is your season. Your porch becomes a shrine to harvest coziness: a woven doormat that says Hey There, Pumpkin, a plaid blanket draped over the swing, and a tidy little row of mini pumpkins lining the steps. They’re cheerful, welcoming, and–if you’re being honest–adorable.
It isn’t much, but it makes you smile every time you come home.
And then, one morning, a pumpkin is missing.
You don’t think much of it at first. Maybe it rolled off the porch and down the sidewalk. Maybe some neighborhood kid pocketed it on a dare. You shrug, replace it, and go about your day.
But a few days later, another one disappears. Then another. And another.
By early October, you’ve replaced six pumpkins–and each vanishes faster than the last. You start to feel like you’re living in a seasonal horror movie: The Case of the Vanishing Gourds.
And, honestly? Your patience has shriveled like a jack-o’-lantern left too long in the sun. This is no coincidence. Someone is stealing your pumpkins. And while they aren’t expensive–or particularly useful to anyone else, for that matter–the principle of it is starting to grind your gears. Who does that?
So you hatch a plan.
It’s a simple one, born of equal parts irritation and stubbornness: you’ll stake out the porch yourself. No cameras. No neighborhood watch bulletin. Just you, a mug of cider, and a strategic perch by the window where you can see the steps without being seen. If it is some local kid, you’ll give them a stern talking-to and be done with it.
If it’s not… well, then you’ll at least have some answers.
The stakeout begins on a breezy Saturday afternoon, the kind that smells like woodsmoke and cinnamon. You curl up in the chair by the front window, book in one hand and cider in the other, glancing up every few pages to scan the porch. Hours tick by with nothing but passing squirrels and the occasional jogger.
You’re starting to feel a little ridiculous when, just as the sun begins to dip below the treeline, movement catches your eye.
A blur of silky fur darts into view.
Your heart kicks. There–at the edge of the steps–a dog. A dog. Stocky and muscular with a glossy brown coat and the kind of wiggly confidence that says she knows she’s doing something she shouldn’t. You watch, jaw slack, as she noses one of the pumpkins into her mouth like it’s a prized tennis ball and trots back down the sidewalk with it.
“Hey!” you shout, bursting through the door. “Drop that, you little thief!”
The dog glances back at you, utterly unfazed. Her tail wags. She breaks into a jaunty trot. And despite your valiant effort–barefoot, coffee still in hand, yelling something about ‘decorative property rights’–she’s gone before you can even make it to the sidewalk.
You stop at the end of the driveway, chest heaving, hair windblown, socks damp from the lawn. Somewhere, a squirrel chitters in mocking applause.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “Absolutely criminal.”
You try to be reasonable. She’s just a dog. Dogs don’t know any better. It’s not her fault she’s a four-legged pumpkin bandit.
But someone owns that pumpkin bandit. Someone is letting her roam the neighborhood like a tiny orange-obsessed pirate, and that is where your patience ends.
By the following week, the situation has escalated into a full-blown one-sided feud. You set out decoy pumpkins. You sprinkle cayenne around the porch (did nothing–she loved the spice). You even try writing a passive-aggressive sign:
“To the person whose dog keeps stealing my pumpkins: control your canine kleptomaniac. Sincerely, the VERY patient homeowner.”
The sign is gone the next morning. So is another pumpkin.
You are livid.
And maybe–just maybe–a little obsessed.
It’s become personal now. Every time you glance out the window, you half expect to see that furry menace slinking up your steps again.
You’ve reached the point where you’re fantasizing about marching up to her owner’s door and demanding reimbursement for emotional damages and decorative losses. Who lets their dog terrorize innocent seasonal décor like this? A sociopath, probably. Or worse: a man who thinks it’s “cute.”
You decide that if you ever meet him, you’ll give him a piece of your mind. Maybe two pieces. Possibly a whole pie chart illustrating the economic impact of repeated pumpkin theft.
You swear the universe is toying with you.
Because just two days after you vow to deliver a PowerPoint presentation titled “Why Pumpkin Theft Is a Federal Offense,” it happens again.
You’re standing in the living room, minding your own business, when the now-familiar rhythm of tiny paw-steps sounds across your porch. You freeze mid-sip of cider, the mug halfway to your mouth.
There’s a part of you–the rational, mature part–that says to let it go. To accept your fate. To simply buy more pumpkins and accept that some small, pumpkin-loving demon has chosen you as its seasonal adversary.
But the rest of you? The part with vengeance in its heart and pumpkin receipts piling up in your glove compartment?
That part is already sprinting for the door.
“Not this time!” you shout, bursting onto the porch like a madperson.
There she is: the four-legged criminal herself, mid-heist, a mini pumpkin clenched proudly in her mouth. She pauses at the top of the steps and gives you a look–smug, defiant, audacious–before trotting down the walkway with the confidence of someone who’s never faced consequences.
“Oh, you think you’re getting away with this again,” you mutter, barreling after her. “Not today, Pumpkin Bonnie. Not today.”
You must look ridiculous–slippers slapping against the pavement, cardigan flapping like a cape, yelling threats at a dog. Neighbors peek through their curtains. A mailman actually sidesteps you. But you’re committed.
You’re gaining ground, too–or at least you think you are–until the thief disappears around the corner. You round it a beat later, panting, triumphant…
…and promptly skid to a halt.
Because there, crouched on the sidewalk, is someone else.
Someone tall. Broad-shouldered. Sunlight catches in dark hair as he rubs his temples with the weary patience of a man who’s had this conversation before. And then he looks up–and oh no.
He’s hot.
Not just “vaguely attractive” hot. Not even “cute guy at the coffee shop” hot. He’s infuriatingly, unfairly, criminally hot. Warm eyes, stubble-dusted jaw, smile lines that say he laughs a lot–the kind of man who could talk his way out of a parking ticket or sell you overpriced artisanal honey at the farmer’s market.
The dog (Roxy, you’ll soon learn) is sitting at his feet, pumpkin still clutched proudly in her mouth.
“I… take it this belongs to you,” he says, rising to his full height. His voice is deep, easy, annoyingly pleasant.
And just like that, your outrage falters. Not disappears–no, no, you’re still mad–but it wavers.
“Belongs to me? Belongs to me?” you echo, pointing dramatically at the pumpkin. “It belonged to me before your canine crime syndicate snatched it from my porch for the seventh time.”
“I am so, so sorry,” he says immediately. “I swear, I’m usually a responsible dog parent. I just–Roxy’s obsessed with these things. It’s like she thinks they’re her children.”
“Well, she’s kidnapping them,” you deadpan. “And I’m pretty sure that’s a crime.”
His mouth twitches–like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. It only pisses you off.
You cross your arms over your chest. “You should probably look into obedience school. Or therapy. Or maybe a twelve-step program for seasonal theft.”
Now he does laugh–warm and unbothered, like your sass is the most entertaining thing he’s heard all week. “You’re not wrong. And I promise I’ll replace them. Every single one.”
“You can’t just replace trust,” you retort. “Or a sense of decorative security.”
He grins, and oh, it’s rude how good it looks on him. “What if I offered dinner as reparations? Maybe a drink too? Call it… pumpkin diplomacy.”
You scoff. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now?”
There it is. The pretty privilege. The way one dimpled smile and a pair of dark brown eyes can derail your entire argument. Somewhere in the distance, your brain is waving a red flag and screaming don’t fall for it, stay strong, but your heart is already picturing what he looks like in a sweater.
He lifts a shoulder, grin tipping crooked. “I mean… you’re yelling at me over stolen pumpkins. It feels like a strong foundation.”
You should be furious. You want to be furious. But the longer you look at him–warm eyes, easy smile, unfairly handsome–the more difficult it becomes to hold onto that righteous indignation.
“You think you can just flash a smile and get away with this?” you ask, horrified by how breathless you sound.
“Honestly?” he says, leaning down to scratch Roxy’s ears. “I was hoping it’d work.”
You huff–dramatically, loudly, the kind of huff meant to remind the universe (and yourself) that you are mad and serious about it.
It’s not very convincing.
Because, unfortunately, the truth is that it did kind of work. Against your will, against your better judgment, against every shred of pumpkin-based rage you’ve cultivated these past few weeks–his stupid, devastating smile worked.
I mean, with a smile like that–
“Nope,” you mutter under your breath, physically shaking your head to scatter the thought before it can finish forming. “No. Not happening. I refuse.”
“What’s that?” he asks, clearly amused.
“Nothing,” you snap, too quickly. “Just reminding myself that smiling isn’t a valid legal defense.”
That makes him laugh again–that warm, rumbling laugh that sounds like it belongs in a candlelit bar over a glass of whiskey. It’s infuriating how good it sounds. You glance down at Roxy, who is now rolling the stolen pumpkin at your feet like she’s offering tribute, and you swear even the dog is laughing at you.
“Look,” he says gently, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Fine,” you grumble. “You can start by keeping your accomplice off my porch.”
“I will,” he nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes suggests otherwise. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you even a scout?”
“Nope.”
“Great. That’s comforting.”
You crouch to pick up the slightly slobbery pumpkin, brushing it off with a sigh. “You’re lucky she’s cute,” you mutter. “And you’re even luckier you’re–”
You cut yourself off before the rest of the sentence can escape. He cocks his head. “I’m what?”
“–lucky you’re getting off with a warning,” you recover quickly, hugging the pumpkin to your chest like a shield. “This time.”
“Right. A warning.” He’s smiling again–that disarming, illegal smile–and your heart does a little, traitorous flip. “So what’s the punishment if it happens again?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” you say with faux sweetness. “Maybe I’ll call Animal Control. Maybe I’ll start stealing your decorative items. Do you have lawn gnomes? I’ll kidnap them one by one.”
His grin widens. “Bold of you to assume I don’t want you to come back to my porch.”
You blink. “Are you flirting with me again? While I’m threatening to commit a crime?”
“Hey,” he shrugs, “some people like flowers. Some people like chocolates. I happen to like a little crime-based banter.”
God, this man. He’s infuriating. And charming. And infuriating because he’s charming.
“I should go,” you declare, more to yourself than to him, spinning on your heel before he can see the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Before I do something deeply regrettable. Like forgive you.”
“Too late,” he calls after you, all sunshine and audacity. “I think you already did.”
You don’t dignify that with a response. You march back toward your house, clutching your reclaimed pumpkin and muttering a long string of very unkind things about handsome men with smug grins.
But if you glance back–just once–and catch him still watching you with that easy, amused smile?
summary: freshly dumped, you let your friends drag you out for a night of dancing, drinks, and denial. you weren't expecting to see your ex. or the stupidly handsome stranger who slides in beside you at the bar and offers a little help with your heartbreak starting with one dance.
includes: no use of y/n, alcohol/drinking, bar setting, reader wears a dress and heels, heartbreak and healing, hurt/comfort, luke alvez being smooth as hell, behavioral profiling as flirting, petty revenge
You didn’t want to come out tonight.
You said so–several times–while your friends raided your closet like a tactical operation and insisted on squeezing you into the tightest dress you own. They added winged eyeliner, heels you forgot you even owned, and a bold lip that screams “I’m not heartbroken, you are.”
“It’s not like I want to impress anyone,” you’d said flatly.
“Exactly,” your best friend replied. “You want to haunt him.”
Now you're here, standing in a pulsing club-bar hybrid that smells like tequila and bad decisions, wondering if being haunted would’ve been less painful than being dressed like a walking heartbreak in heels that pinch.
Your friends drag you through the crowd with a level of determination that borders on a kidnapping. You love them. You do. But your heart is still bleeding in your chest, and pretending it’s not feels exhausting.
You’ve barely made it to the bar when someone shouts over the music, “Shots first!”
A tray hits the counter–lime, salt, tequila. Classic.
“Drink, bitch,” your best friend says, clinking hers against yours.
You down it without blinking.
It burns. In a good way. Sort of.
You’re still coughing through the aftertaste when the music shifts–heavier beat, low bass, something made to move to–and your friends shriek and head for the dance floor.
That’s when you see him.
And it feels like someone kicked the breath out of you.
Your ex.
On the floor.
Already dancing with someone else.
She’s pressed against him–hands in his hair, hips rolling against his in time with the music. He’s got his arm around her, low on her waist, leaning in like she’s the only thing in the world. He’s smiling.
The same smile he used to save for you.
It’s fast. Sensual. The kind of dancing that says we’re not strangers anymore.
And then, as if summoned, he glances over her shoulder–
And locks eyes with you.
You turn away sharply and move toward the bar again, shoving through the crowd like you might actually throw up. Your stomach is acid and your heart is a rubber band pulled tight and fraying.
You wave down the bartender.
“What can I get you?”
“Whiskey sour,” you say. “Strong.”
He nods and starts mixing.
You plant your elbows on the bar and breathe.
Of course he’s already moved on. Of course he’s here. Of all the places in the city–of all the nights–he just happens to show up, acting like he didn’t just dump you like an expired carton of milk yesterday.
Your drink appears in front of you with a soft clink. You murmur a thank-you, pick it up, and take a big gulp–the kind that burns on the way down and makes your eyes water a little.
It’s good. Sweet at first, but the bite hits hard–exactly what you needed.
You barely have time to recover before someone slips into the empty seat beside you.
You don’t look.
You’re not in the mood.
“Fair warning,” you mutter into your glass. “I’m probably shit company.”
There’s a pause.
Then a voice, warm and amused:
“Good thing I’m not here for small talk.”
You glance sideways. The man next to you is... well. A problem. The guy next to you is stupidly attractive–dark eyes, tousled hair, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. His vibe is confident but unbothered, like he doesn’t need to try.
“Blond guy out there with the girl glued to him?” he adds, tipping his drink toward the floor. “He’s been clocking you since you walked in. Even while his hands are all over her.”
You blink. “You were watching me?”
“I was watching him,” he says easily. “He’s performing. The way he keeps shifting his position to stay in your line of sight? The back-of-the-head glances when he thinks you won’t notice? Dead giveaway. Probably didn’t expect you to be here. Definitely didn’t expect you to look this good while you watched him downgrade.”
That last part catches you off guard. You glance away, smiling despite yourself. “And what, you just read people like that for fun?”
He shrugs with a lopsided grin. “Bad habit.”
“Okay, then what about me?” you challenge, arching a brow.
He leans in slightly, gaze dipping–not in a gross way, just like he’s paying attention.
“You dressed up because your friends made you, but the confidence isn’t quite catching up to the look yet. You’re still pissed. Still hurting. But the way you marched up to the bar and threw that whiskey back tells me you’re not the type to stay down for long.”
You stare at him, stunned. “…Okay. What the hell. Who are you?”
He offers his hand. “Luke.”
You take it reflexively. “Seriously though–how did you do that?”
“It’s my job,” he says, cool and casual.
“What, like therapist-slash-human lie detector?”
He grins. “FBI.”
You almost spit your drink. “Excuse me?”
“Behavioral analyst,” he adds, leaning back. “But mostly, I’m just good at reading the room.”
A laugh escapes you, bright and surprised. And when the warmth floods back into your chest, it’s the first time all night you’ve felt like yourself.
Luke watches you for a beat, then nods toward the floor. “Want to piss him off?”
You blink. “What?”
“Petty revenge,” he says, finishing his drink. “One dance. That’s all. You don’t owe me a thing. But I promise he’ll notice.”
You glance back at your ex.
He’s still dancing. Showier. But his eyes flick your way, and there’s just enough tension in his posture to tell you he sees everything.
You look back at Luke.
And you say, “Yeah. Okay. Let’s dance.”
The bass is heavy enough to feel in your bones as Luke pulls you into the crowd, the heat of bodies and strobing lights swallowing you whole.
He doesn't hesitate–one hand slides confidently to your waist, the other skims down your arm as you turn to face him.
You move closer. Closer still.
It’s not innocent. Not even a little.
Your hips sway with his, slow at first, but then you press in, chest brushing his as the beat pulls you under. His hands tighten at your waist, fingers slipping lower just enough to send a thrill down your spine.
You match him, pulse racing. Let your hands slide over his shoulders, down his chest, anchoring you to something solid. Something warm. Something new.
Your eyes dart toward your ex–a flicker, barely a second.
Luke leans in, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “He’s watching.”
A thrill shoots through you–not from spite, not entirely. But it does help.
You smile.
“Good,” you murmur.
And then you give in.
Let the beat guide you. Let the rhythm blur the edges of everything else. You move a little bolder, a little freer. Luke follows your lead, or maybe you’re following his–you don’t know, and you don’t care.
His hands move with you like he’s known you longer than five minutes, like he knows how to hold someone without demanding anything.
You start to forget why you were so angry.
You start to forget what it felt like to be unwanted.
And that’s when it hits you: you haven’t looked back at your ex again.
Not once.
The music keeps pulling you forward–and so does Luke.
You’re wrapped in him now. His touch, his smile, the heat of his body against yours. His hand slides a little lower on your back. Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt. The space between you disappears.
Your breath catches as your thigh brushes between his. He leans in, his nose almost skimming your cheek, his lips at your ear.
“You’re not even thinking about him anymore, are you?”
You weren’t. You really, truly weren’t.
The realization makes you laugh softly, breathless. You glance up at him, light-headed from more than the dancing.
“Not even a little,” you say.
And you mean it.
He smiles. “Then, mission accomplished.”
When you finally peel away from the floor, your skin is warm and your pulse is light.
You head back to the bar, side by side, the space between you charged but comfortable.
Luke sips his drink while you press yours to your cheek to cool off.
You glance at him. “Do this often?”
He smirks. “Crash heartbreaks? Not really. You’re the first.”
“Lucky me.”
Luke lifts his glass slightly in your direction. “To being the first, then.”
You smile and clink yours against his. The glasses tap together, the sound light and bright against the heavy thrum of the music.
The kind of sound that says something’s shifted.
You take a sip. He does too.
Then casually, like he’s not asking anything monumental, he glances at you and says, “So… what now?”
You tilt your head, watching him over the rim of your glass. Your lips quirk.
“Now,” you say, stepping just a little closer, “we get out of here. You hungry?”
His eyebrows rise, intrigued. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re about to suggest food, or something way more dangerous.”
You laugh–a real one this time, from your gut–and bump his shoulder with yours.
“Pizza,” you say. “Obviously.”
“Tragic,” he teases, grinning. “I was hoping for something reckless.”
“Oh, it’ll be reckless,” you say, already feeling lighter. “There’s a place around the block that does slices the size of your face. I want to live dangerously.”
Luke hums, mock-impressed. “You know how to party.”
You drain the rest of your drink and set the glass on the bar. “You coming or what?”
He finishes his and stands, hand brushing yours as you step away from the bar. Then, without hesitation, he slips an arm around your waist. It’s casual but intentional–steady and warm and… good. Comforting in a way you didn’t expect.
You don’t pull away.
The two of you head for the door, weaving through the crowd, laughing about some overheard conversation and arguing about the correct pizza toppings like it’s the most important debate in the world.
You don’t look back.
Not to the dance floor.
Not to the bar.
Not to your ex, who might still be watching–or might not be.
but also can we be obsessed with Clark's thighs for a minute---😳
somewhere meant to be
a/n: ask and you shall always ALWAYS receive being obsessed with clark's thighs. the way i've been itching to write the most insane filth imaginable, but the burn out is taking its sweet time fading. so this is perfect timing! i literally just saw it for a third time so i am ready to churn out everything and anything about his thighs. because well fuck i need to sit on them. and that's it. that's the post. enjoy babes!
summary: your favorite spot in the house wasn't the leather chair that had seen better days. it was the way he sat in it - more specifically how.
word count: 1.7k+
pairing: clark kent x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, thigh riding, not necessarily body worship but its up there, complimenting this gorgeous man, fluff, teasing, romance, he's got a dirty mouth in this one, sloppy makeouts that had my mind reeling, they're obsessed with each other.
Time moved quick in the confines of The Daily Planet. Days passing by in the blink of an eye, hours and minutes fleeting moments you could barely cling to even as the clock ticked steadily—taunting you with how much was left. And you took it in stride most days. Swam with the crashing waves, chased each story with ease, because you knew something better awaited you. Once the clock struck eight you were no longer bound to the gilded floors of your home away from home.
Time finally settled into place, giving you a chance to find yourself here. Spread across his lap as your lips and found solace along his and breath ceased to exist.
There weren’t that many things you’d give up over time for. Always a strong believer in the night owl life of a reporter always on duty. But for Clark Kent you’d wipe the slate clean, hand over your time sheet, and wave goodbye to the coworkers who had a strong inkling of the man you were desperate to see. They knew you were dating—they just never bothered to say it out loud.
“I need to put the pizza in the oven,” you mumbled, tugging at his curls for just a split second to hear him groan—his hips bucking up into yours. He was already hard, probably leaking a mess into his slacks. You fought the urge to slip down between his thick thighs and forced yourself to get up.
Much to his disappointment.
Flushed cheeks and a dimpled smile met your half lidded gaze. “I knew I should have ordered something.”
“Why? There’s perfectly good food here.”
“Not when one of us eats more than your average human,” he sighed, settling further into the leather chair—his legs falling open and head finding its usual spot on the leather back.
You sucked in a breath to avoid crawling on your knees towards the obvious bulge in his charcoal hued pants. “That’s why I bought two at the store.”
“I’ll still place an order.”
“Clark-”
“And call in to the donut shop you like for a box of sprinkled chocolates for the morning.”
Perfect.
He was utterly and absolutely perfect.
The type of man you liked to kid yourself into believing only existed in the fantastical worlds of fiction. The man who brought you lunch because you always forgot yours in the back of the fridge, saved the cherry on top of his shakes for your very own delight, and swooped in to save the day. No matter how small the catastrophe or how large the destruction.
The phone looked minuscule in his hands as he tapped the number in, his hair still disheveled from your hands tugging on it less than five minutes prior. You had to pry yourself off him to get things done most days. Entirely too addicted to the way his tongue slid against yours, the taste of his disgusting coffee that was mainly syrups and sugars still stuck on the back of your taste buds.
You struggled to breathe in his presence. Unable to focus on menial tasks around your apartment when he looked like this. Unruly and at peace and taking up far too much space while still looking like he couldn’t belong anywhere else.
You knew you loved him.
You knew he knew it too.
How could you not? When Clark Kent made loving him easier than pressing the button on your oven to set the timer; when loving him came quick and with a breathless gasp. As if he’d just taken you flying somewhere for the very first time.
The timer beeped as you punched in the numbers for thirty minutes, practically skipping on your way back to his slumped form in his favorite chair. Comfortable, warm, welcoming enough for you to slide right back into your favorite place. Perched on his thigh with his broad hands holding tight onto your hips to keep the balance—to make sure you wouldn’t fall.
“You’re so pretty,” you sighed, cupping his cheek and pressing your thumb along the rounded cheekbone.
His lips found a home on your wrist, black long lashes fluttering as he breathed you in. “You’re prettier than me honey.”
“Doubt that.”
He smiled and your heart kicked up a notch, beating a drum solo that would put any rock star to shame. “You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Took my breath away that first day.”
“Clark,” you protested, yet could feel the desperate plea curling low in your gut to hear just a bit more. Maybe it was gluttonous of you, but he never held back with his compliments. Not when it came to you.
“What’s so pretty about me huh? ‘M just some guy.”
“Well you’re Superman.” He nodded, tugging you closer until his nose was against your cheek, lips dragging feather-light along your own as you spoke words that would have taken an entire bottle of liquid courage to even think about. “You’re eyes are…they’re as blue as the Aegean sea. And your lips are…”
“My lips…”
“They’re just…um…and your thighs-” His brows shot up, lips curling into a grin that gave you away. “I like them.”
“You do?” His hands guided you even as the question lingered on the tip of your tongue, pulling you to straddle his left thigh, and sucking in a breath at the sight of your skirt riding up high enough to show a peek of pink between your legs. “Gosh honey. You’re soaked.”
“Yeah,” you whined.
Even though you could barely see his face in the glow of your lights, you could feel the heat radiate off his cheeks. The crimson hued flush of a man in love—a man who wanted to spread you on the carpet near your fireplace and eat you alive. He could. He knew entirely how easy it would be to lift you, to bury his head between your soft thighs and pull sounds he could only imagine from your parted lips.
But you were beginning to move, unconsciously shifting back and forth along his thigh—your eyes glazed and breaths shallow. He could hear your heart as if it were his own, smell the thick heady arousal trapped beneath satin and lace. Clark’s mind went blank as he dragged you the final few centimeters towards the only place he belonged.
His lips sealed over yours, a sighed out moan lost to the heat of his tongue licking deep into you, memorizing the taste of the salty chips you’d been snacking on an hour ago. His cock throbbed in his slacks, the belt at his waist the perfect pressure to grind on when you did the unthinkable. You fucked yourself along his thigh with a high pitched cry, your hands curling into his hair to mess it up some more; he was pretty sure even the wind itself wouldn’t fix that mess (not that he wanted it to).
“C-Clark I need-”
“I know what you need baby,” he gasped, taking over as your muscles strained beneath soft skin his fingers pressed into. “I’ll get you there. Yeah? I’ll take care of my sweet girl.”
“Uh-huh,” you uttered and to his ears you sounded far off. Lost in an entirely different world.
You however could barely hear your own voice over the rush of blood pumping in your ears, the unsteady thud of a heart that practically screamed Clark’s name.
Sitting up slightly he pushed you down along his thigh, feeling your slick form a damp stain along the already dark fabric. He’d mouth at it later to taste the remnants of your cunt, his teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to stifle his pathetic moan. If only you could hear how his heart raced for you. The way his hands shook as he pushed his thigh up until you were bouncing on it.
“Can smell you baby,” he pushed into your mouth, one hand curling around the nape of your neck to hold you in place. “Almost there?”
You nodded, crying out as you finally found that perfect amount of pleasure, another wave of your sticky wetness leaking out through the already ruined fabric of your panties. Clark’s pupils went wide, the black cloud of need overtaking everything else. He could hear the sizzle of the pizza in the oven, smell the burning crust, but he wouldn’t take care of the mess until you came on his fucking thigh.
Until he heard you sob his name and felt you gush onto pants he’d have to throw out in the morning. But it was all okay. He could find a new pair. And he’d let you ruin those too.
“I’m gonna—fuck—Clark!”
You needed something more, one last thing to push you over the edge. But Clark could feel it forming before he even said the words—your stupefied look every time he cursed (mainly under his breath and to himself) all he needed to understand your affinity. You liked when he got dirty, when he went rough around the edges.
When he said the thing he’d never dare to say.
He mouth latched onto your throat when your head fell back. “C’mon baby. Soak on my fucking leg for me.”
It burst with a broken sob against his bruised lips, your hips moving rapidly along his muscled thigh and clit throbbing as you broke in his hold. Clark mouthed at your neck, guiding your trembling form along his limb with ease. Even when you tugged at his curls to find his lips once more and pressed a hand to his stomach to press your clit down just a bit harder. He kept you in his hold—unwilling to part with you.
“I told you,” he breathed, smiling like he was the one who just came within an inch of his life. “Prettiest person in the entire world.”
“The pizza’s burning,” you mumbled, grinning wide as he kissed you one last time and deposited you gently on the couch across from him.
“Hey Clark.” He hummed, holding the searing pan with his bare hand as if it were nothing. “I love you.”
The pan his the counter with a loud clatter, his lips pulling wide and eyes sparkling even in the shitty kitchen light. And before you could prepare yourself for it, the two hundred something pound Krytonian man had dropped himself over you, caging you in with a sloppy spit filled kiss you felt down to your toes.
“I love you too,” he panted heavily, diving down for another taste.
The pizzas—charred to their fucking core—forgotten about in the sink.
Summary: When (Y/n) finally finds the courage to go on a date again, she gets reminded why she stopped. Instead, the night unravels into something she never saw coming. And when everything starts to go wrong, it’s Buck who finds her, just in time.
TW ‼️: This story contains scenes involving attempted sexual assault and emotional distress. While nothing graphic is described, the experience may still be triggering to some readers. Please take care of yourself and skip or stop reading if needed.
Request: @woantohae
Wordcount: 5,6k
9-1-1 Masterlist | Evan "Buck" Buckley Masterlist
GIF by @eddiegayass
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Station 118 thrived on chaos. Sirens, gear clanking, radios buzzing, but there was always a moment of quiet when Buck made his way to the front desk. That was where (Y/n) usually sat, head bent over her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard with quiet efficiency.
She was like the calm in the middle of the storm. Organized. Unshaken. Always a little too focused for Buck’s liking, especially when he was trying to get her attention.
This morning was no different. She’d arrived early and hadn’t looked up from her screen in at least an hour. Buck wandered in, holding a clipboard and a charming grin. "Hey, (Y/n), you got the new inventory sheets for the med kits? Or are you hiding them so we keep coming back to you?" he asked.
She didn’t look up. "They’re in the folder labeled ‘Supplies,’ top right corner of the drawer behind you. Alphabetized. Like always." she told him, not even sparing him a glance.
Buck chuckled as he placed his clipboard onto a corner of her desk. He leaned down on the desk, resting both palms flat against the surface as he bent forward slightly, trying to meet her eyes. "You're gonna give yourself a screen tan if you keep staring at that thing."
"I’m on a deadline. I told Bobby I’d have the station reports updated by lunch." (Y/n) said as she was still typing.
Buck frowned playfully, then reached forward and gently closed her laptop. She finally looked up, eyebrows raised. "Buck." she said with a warning tone. "Break time," he said with a tilt of his head. "Come on. You’ve been glued to this thing since you walked in. You’re starting to merge with the desk." he said as he finally got her attention.
She sighed, half-amused, half-annoyed, "If I don’t finish this now, I’ll forget where I left off." she said. He shrugged, casually drumming his fingers on the desk. "Then I’ll help you later. Or distract you again. Whichever’s more effective." he told her, sending her a charming smile.
That made her smile. Just a little. Buck lived for that smile. It lit up her whole face and made something flutter uncomfortably in his chest every single time. He didn’t know when his daily visits to the front desk had started becoming the best parts of his day but… they were.
She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Is this you being smooth, or do you just need something from me?" she asked, trying to hide the smile that was appearing onto her face.
He raised his eyebrows as a grin spread across his face. "Can’t it be both? I mean, I do need those files… but I wouldn’t mind getting a smile out of you too." he said.
"Uh-huh. The files you already knew exactly where to find."
"Right," he said, grinning. "But then I’d miss out on annoying you. And where’s the fun in that?"
Before she could answer, Chim’s voice echoed from the loft above. "Coffee’s ready! Get it while it’s hot, people."
Buck straightened, tapping the top of her now-closed laptop. "Come on, you’ve earned a coffee break. I’ll even pour it for you."
"Such a gentleman," she said with a roll of her eyes, though she stood to follow him upstairs.
A little later, (Y/n) was curled into a chair with a mug in her hands, chatting with Hen, Eddie, and Chim around the kitchen island. The conversation was easy, warm, and full of laughter. Buck stood a few feet away, pouring himself a cup of coffee, but still close enough to catch snippets of the conversation.
"So what’s new with you, (Y/n)?" Hen asked, raising her brow curiously as she leaned with her forearms onto the kitchen island counter and wrapped her hands around the mug. (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders. "Not much. Been trying to catch up on sleep, reading… you know, the usual." she said, as she took a sip from her coffee.
"Still listening to that crime podcast Eddie recommended?" Chim asked, grinning. "Guilty," she said, laughing. "I may or may not double check my locks before bed now." she added.
As they laughed, (Y/n)'s phone buzzed on the counter next to her. A soft light lit up the screen with a message. Then another. And another.
"Damn," Eddie said, glancing at the screen. "You’re pretty popular today." Eddie continued. Chim raised his brows. "Guess someone really wants to talk to you. Secret boyfriend we don’t know about?" he jokes.
She reached over, locked her phone and flipped it face-down. "It’s nothing. Just notifications." she said, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Hen gave her a slow, amused smile. "You always go red in the cheeks when it’s 'nothing.'"
(Y/n) sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to keep her voice casual. "Okay, fine. I have a date." she gives in. "What?" Chim nearly dropped his mug.
Hen’s eyebrows shot up. "A date? With who?"
(Y/n) let out a small, quiet sigh. "His name’s Jeff. We met a few weeks ago on a dating app. It’s not a big deal." she tells them. It’s not like she wasn’t going to tell this at all, but she just wanted to wait until after the date.
"Oh, it’s definitely a big deal," Hen said with a grin. "You haven’t been on a date in, what, forever?" she added. "Thanks for the reminder," (Y/N) muttered, cheeks still pink.
Chim let out a low whistle. "Look at you. Secretly swooning over someone and not telling us." he said, with a smile on his face.
"What’s he like? I mean, first impressions?" Eddie asked. "He seems nice," she said with a shrug. "But seriously, it’s just dinner. Please, don’t make it a thing." she continued.
As the others teased her gently, Buck, who had been sipping his coffee quietly across the room, stilled. He kept his eyes on his mug, but he was very much listening.
Eddie grinned and glanced at Buck. "What do you think, Buck? Got any first-date advice? You’ve had more practice than all of us combined." Eddie asked him.
Buck looked up, caught off guard. "Uh- yeah. Sure. Just… be yourself. And if the guy’s a jerk, you call us. We’ll handle it." he told her. Hen arched a brow. "That sounded suspiciously protective." she said as she looked at Buck.
Buck shrugged, but there was a slight flush in his cheeks. "I mean, it’s like we’re all siblings, right? You don’t let your sister walk into something without backup. We protect each other. That’s all." he tried to explain. He took a sip, ignoring the bitter taste that had nothing to do with the coffee. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, the fact that she had a date.
-
(Y/N) sat stiffly in the booth, halfway through her drink, the condensation from the glass wetting her fingertips. Jeff was already on his third beer, enthusiastic talking about himself. Something about crypto, or his job managing a start-up. She wasn't really sure anymore.
From the moment she got into the Uber and saw his text
Jeff: hope you wore something cute ;)
She’d felt the edge of unease. She’d laughed it off then, adjusted the upper part of her casual black dress, and told herself she was overthinking. But now, as she was sitting across the table from him, she was starting to regret not listening to her gut.
He’d interrupted her twice when she tried to talk about her work. “That’s cute, you’re like a secretary for firefighters? So you just answer phones and stuff?” he’d said with a crooked smile. She’d tried to correct him, but he changed the subject before she could even start a new sentence.
Now he was leaning in, arms stretched across the table, voice a little louder than it needed to be. The waitress came by, and Jeff quickly waved her down. “We’ll take the check,” he said, not even pausing mid-story, and then, he got right back into it. “So anyway, I told my boss if he couldn’t match my vision, I’d walk. You have to have standards, right?”
(Y/n) nodded politely, but her stomach turned. Standards? He hadn’t asked her a single question all evening. And when he did talk about her job, it was with a strange mix of amusement and dismissal. Every time she tried to shift the conversation, he looped it back to himself.
Then the bell above the front door jingled. She glanced over, and that’s when she finally saw a familiar face entering the place.
Buck.
He entered casually, scanning the restaurant until his gaze landed on her. His posture softened just for a moment. She felt a flash of warmth. Safe. Seen.
Jeff noticed the change of look in her eyes and turned, noticing Buck’s gaze. “Friend of yours?” he asked her as he turned back towards her.
She nodded. “Coworker.” she said, keeping her voice steady. Jeff smirked at those words. “Let me guess. One of the hot firefighter guys? Bet he thinks he’s got a shot.” he said.
(Y/n)’s shoulders stiffened as she listened to whatever came out of his mouth. “It’s not like that.” she said, looking down at her hands that were wrapped around the glass of water.
“Sure,” Jeff said, leaning in again, lowering his voice. “But if it were, you’d go for him, right?” he continued, playfully. Her mouth went dry, and she forced a smile. “We’re just friends.”
Buck approached their table then, hands empty, clearly still waiting for his takeout. He greeted her with a warm smile, masking the way his eyes flicked between her and Jeff. “Hey, (Y/n). What a coincidence.” he said casually.
“Hey Buck” she replied with a warm smile, some of the discomfort easing off her shoulders just seeing him there.
Jeff offered a lazy nod. “You the coworker?” he asked, kinda rude in her opinion. Not a normal greeting to be found. “Buck,” he said, extending a hand. “You must be Jeff.” he added as they shook hands, and for a brief second, something unspoken passed between them.
“Well, don’t let us keep you,” Jeff said with a smirk. “We were just wrapping up.” he continued. Buck’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, right. Enjoy the rest of your night.” he said. He looked at her again, just for a moment. Steady, reassuring, like he could see right through her polite smile.
But something inside of her wanted to stop him. To grab his wrist and whisper, “Please, make something up. Say there’s a call. Pretend there’s a family emergency. Just get me out of here.” But the words stayed stuck in her throat. She gave a soft smile instead, and let him walk away.
A few minutes later, Jeff paid the bill, kinda surprising for a douchebag like him. Something inside of her told her maybe he would’ve split the check. But no, surprisingly he didn’t do that.
Once outside, (Y/n) pulled out her phone and opened the Uber app, her fingers moving quickly to request a ride. The air was cool against her skin, and she crossed her arms not because of the cold, but because of the tension that hadn’t left her since the date began. They walked a few feet before Jeff’s hand landed low on her back. Too low. She flinched.
“You cold?” he asked, sliding closer.
“I’m fine.” she said, she glanced over her shoulder as she lowered her phone in her hand. She caught Buck’s reflection in the restaurant window. He was still at the counter, watching.
Then she and Jeff disappeared around the corner.
The alley behind the restaurant was dimly lit, narrow, and smelled a bit like damp concrete and cigarette smoke. (Y/n) hadn’t planned on walking far with Jeff. Her Uber was just two minutes away but he’d tugged her hand, insisting they take the back exit because “it’s faster.”
Now, every step she took echoed against the brick walls, and each sound made her skin crawl. She clutched her phone in one hand, her Uber app still open, the screen glowing faintly in the dark as she kept checking her Uber’s location. “Two minutes away,” she mumbled, more to herself than to Jeff.
Jeff stopped walking. He turned to face her, standing too close. “You know…” he said, his voice slick and low, “you didn’t really seem into dinner, but I think we’ve got chemistry.” he continued.
(Y/n) took a half-step back, her heart stuttering at the way he was acting right now. “I’m just tired, it’s been a long week-” she said.
But he didn’t care what she said, just like through the entire dinner. He moved closer “You look amazing tonight. This dress… damn.” He said as he let his eyes scan her body. His hand slid along her waist, then lower…
“Jeff,” she said, voice tight, maybe her gut feeling was right all along. “I said I’m tired. I’m going home.” she said, determined. But he wouldn’t let her go, he laughed under his breath. “Come on, don’t play hard to get.” he told her, and then he kissed her.
She froze.
His lips were rough, unwelcome and his hand gripped her hip, burying his fingers into her skin. She pushed at his chest, but he didn’t move. She tried to move her face away from him, “No—Jeff, stop—” she gasped, but her voice was barely audible.
He shoved her firmly against the brick wall beside them. Her head bumped it lightly, and she winced. Panic clawed its way up her throat as he tried to kiss her again, fingers roaming over her body.
She wanted out so bad, she wanted to scream, to be able to push him off, but everything she tried wasn’t enough. Her voice was so small she sounded like a mouse, she tried to push him off multiple times, but she was too weak.
She squirmed, trying to push him away. “Stop!” she cried out, louder this time. “Get off me!”
Tears blurred her vision, and her hands trembled. Her legs were weak. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, it’s like her body was shutting down. All she could feel was the rough brick behind her and the weight pressing into her front.
Buck had stepped outside the restaurant, finally clutching the paper bag with his dinner. He paused for a moment, feeling something odd prickle down his spine. It wasn’t just the cool air, maybe it was a gut feeling. He didn’t even think. His eyes scanned the sidewalk.
He hadn’t seen (Y/n) and Jeff leave through the front, but through the back exit. Not that it’s a red flag immediately… But still, something didn’t sit right with him.
He took a few steps around the building, toward the back exit. And that’s where his gut feeling proved him right. “Stop!” a female voice sounded. The cry was faint, but enough for Buck to recognize the voice. The voice he greeted every single shift, and took every excuse to swing by her desk, the one who made him smile every time she came into his vision. It was (Y/n)’s voice.
Buck didn’t think for a moment, and instinct roared to life inside him. He dropped the food without hesitation, and sprinted towards the sound.
He rounded the corner, and that’s where Buck his veins filled with anger. Jeff had (Y/n) pinned between a brick wall and the guy he had met earlier this night.
Buck stormed towards him, "HEY! Get the hell off her!" he yelled. Jeff jerked back in surprise, and before he could even turn fully, Buck had him by the collar.
“What the—?” Jeff started, but Buck didn’t let him finish. He slammed Jeff against the opposite wall, eyes blazing. “You think it’s okay to touch someone like that?” he groaned.
Jeff struggled as Buck’s fists were pressing against his throat. “It’s not what it looks like!” Jeff said, sounding like a scared little boy right now.
Buck growled, pushing him more into the wall. “She said no.” Then, without another word, he punched him. Once, clean and hard, right in the jaw and he let go of the guy's collar. Jeff crumbled to the ground. He stood up straight again, stumbling, and then bolted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows.
As Jeff disappeared around the corner, (Y/n)’s knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the ground. Her dress crumpled beneath her as she tried to steady her breathing, hands trembling violently. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold back the sobs that came in choked gasps.
Buck was beside her in an instant. "Hey—hey, it’s okay. I got you," he said, voice low and steady. He crouched next to her, placing a gentle hand on her back. “You’re safe now.” he reassured her.
(Y/n) looked up at him, eyes wide, glassy and her run out mascara was sticking to her cheek. “I couldn’t move. I tried to scream, but-” she choked on a cry as she tried to explain what happened.
“You don’t have to explain. I heard you. That’s all that matters.” Buck told her. She nodded numbly, letting her head fall against his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks again. Buck placed one hand onto her upper arm and his other hand on her head, pressing her against him in an attempt to try and calm her down. He planted his lips onto the top of her head for a second, and let his thumb rub over the skin of her arm.
After a moment of comforting her, Buck gently let go of her. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” he proposed. She nodded again, still shaking.
He noticed her shaking was probably because of the scare. But he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, shielding her from the night air.
“I have an Uber waiting.” she whispered as he helped her to her feet. Buck gently took her phone from her hand, glanced at the screen, and canceled it without hesitation. “You’re not Ubering tonight,” he said softly but firmly. “I’ll drive you home. I’m not letting you go home alone after something like this.” he added as he handed her phone back.
She didn’t argue, she didn’t have the strength for that. The quiet conviction in his voice settled something deep in her chest. He kept an arm around her waist, steadying her. She leaned into him as they walked toward his truck.
Buck opened the passenger door for her, while she held on to his jacket like that was the only thing that was keeping her together right now. The car’s engine hummed softly as Buck pulled away from the curb. The city lights blurred past the windows, but inside, the space felt heavy and quiet.
(Y/n) stared out the window, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She wanted to say something. Needed to say something. But the words felt tangled in her throat, heavy and stuck. How do you even start a simple conversation after something like this?
Buck glanced over at her from the driver’s seat but said nothing. He didn’t want to push her. So he didn’t ask questions, and just drove like he said he would. The silence stretched. It was the kind of silence that filled the space not because there was nothing to say, but because the things that needed saying were too hard.
Finally, (Y/n) took a shaky breath and looked at him. “I... I feel like such an idiot.” she said quietly, looking down at her hands, which were still twisting in her lap.
Buck’s eyes softened at her words. “We really don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” he said, as he quickly glanced over but then focussed on the road again.
She shook her head, swallowing hard. “No, I want to. I need to.” she said, her voice was low, almost breaking.
“My gut was telling me something was off,” she started slowly, like peeling back a wound. “Jeff… he was being… too much. Like, all the time, trying to be funny, but it felt like he just wanted all the attention on him. Everything was about him.”
Buck nodded slightly, as if he understood more than her words could say. “I could see it in your eyes,” he said gently, as he made brief eye contact. “When I was inside, watching you two. You looked uncomfortable. Not just tired, but… like you wanted out.” he explained.
(Y/n) blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to notice. She looked away, her fingers still twisting. “I felt stupid, I still do.” she whispered. “Like, why didn’t I listen to that feeling? Why did I even go on the date?” she murmured as she continued to look out of the window.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault. It’s okay to want to try new things, to take chances. But your gut’s there for a reason. It’s not about being stupid, it’s about protecting yourself.” Buck’s voice was steady, warm.
That’s where she looked at him again, the tears welling but not falling yet. “I just… I didn’t think it would be like that. I didn’t expect to feel so scared.” she admitted.
Buck gave her a small reassuring smile as he reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “You’re safe now,” he said softly. “You’re with someone who cares.”
For the first time since the night had started, (Y/n) let a small, shaky breath out. She relaxed just a bit against the seat. Buck’s eyes stayed on the road, but inside, his heart was pounding. He wanted to say so much more, but for now, this was enough.
The rest of the ride was quiet, but not heavy. Not anymore.
It was the kind of silence that felt like a blanket, not suffocating, but comforting. The streetlights flashed across (Y/n)’s face as they passed, her features soft and tired, Buck’s jacket still draped over her shoulders like armor.
Eventually, Buck slowed and turned onto her street. The tires crunched softly against the pavement as he pulled up to the curb in front of her building. He put the truck in park but didn’t move right away. Neither did she.
(Y/n) glanced over at him, the corners of her lips twitching in a tired almost-smile. “Thank you… for driving me.” she said.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Buck replied, his voice quiet. “But I’m glad I could.”
She nodded and reached for the door handle. But before she could even open it, Buck was already out of the truck. He jogged around and opened her door gently, offering a hand to help her down. She took it, her fingers still cold despite the jacket around her.
They walked slowly to her front step, side by side. The world around them was quiet. It was just the hum of the street and the soft rustle of leaves overhead that filled the ambiance. When they reached the door, she stopped in her movement. “Oh, I almost forgot..” she said as she took off his jacket, which was still draped over her shoulders, and held it out to him. “Thanks” she added. Buck gave her a small smile, taking his jacket from her “You’re welcome.” he said.
She turned to face her door again, digging her keys out with one hand. And she slid the key into the lock, something tugged inside her chest. A sudden, hollow ache. The thought of walking into the dark, silent apartment alone made her stomach turn.
Her fingers paused, and she turned on her heels.
Without a word, she stepped toward Buck and wrapped her arms around him, her head pressing into his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered into the fabric of his hoodie, her voice so soft he almost missed it.
Buck stood still for a moment, taken by surprise. But then his arms came up around her, warm and steady. He didn’t say anything… he just held her, letting his hand rub over her back, while taking in her scent.
They stayed there for a moment, her eyes were closed, breathing in the scent of him safe, familiar. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was something more. Something fragile and real.
She let her arms loosen around him and pulled back and took a step back. “Do you want to come inside?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Buck studied her face for a second, his brow gently creased with concern. “I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she added quickly, quietly. “Not after all of that.” she explained.
He didn’t hesitate, “Yeah,” he said softly. “Of course.”
She unlocked the door of the building and pushed it open, stepping inside with him right behind her, leading him towards her apartment.
Finally, after making their way upstairs, the door shut quietly behind them with a soft click. (Y/n) stepped into the small entryway of her apartment, the light from a nearby lamp casting a warm, golden glow over the room. She stopped briefly at the entrance of the apartment to take off her heels.
Buck stood just inside, hands in his jacket pockets, letting her lead as soon as she had her shoes taken off. She walked through the hall towards the living room and the kitchen. She made her way into the kitchen, as Buck followed her and took in the place.
He scanned the environment with his eyes, “Do you want something to drink?” she asked, voice still hushed. “Water, maybe?” she added, glancing over her shoulder as she opened the cabinet where she had the glasses.
“Sure,” Buck said gently. “Only if you’re getting one too.”
She nodded and continued her movement, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and placing them on the counter. Buck took in the place quietly, close enough to be near, far enough to give her space. The silence was different now, neither tense nor heavy. Just quiet. Still.
(Y/n) handed him a glass of water and then took a sip from hers. Buck noticed her fingers still shook slightly. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, careful not to overwhelm.
She nodded… then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted, setting the glass on the counter. “I feel like I should be… angry. Or crying. Or screaming. But I’m just… numb.” she told him.
Buck leaned against the counter across from her. “That’s okay. Whatever you feel right now is okay.” he reassured her.
There was a pause, she wanted to answer but chose not to. “Can we… just sit?” she asked then, “I don’t want to go to sleep yet. I just… need company.” she admitted.
“Of course.” Buck answered.
They moved to the couch. She curled her knees under her, and Buck sat beside her, close but not touching, just enough space in between them to not make her uncomfortable. He was just being present, being there for her.
(Y/n) didn’t know what made her do it. Maybe it was the weight in her chest. Maybe it was the way Buck hadn’t said much, hadn’t asked her to talk, hadn’t tried to fix it… he just stayed close.
She picked up the remote and sank into the couch, motioning toward the screen. “Is it okay if we just… put something on? I don’t want to sit in silence.” she asked. She was scared that if the silence was loud enough, she’d go on and replay the scene over and over again.
Buck nodded easily. “Yeah sure, anything you want.”
She didn’t hesitate. She scrolled until she found the old show she always turned to when her brain felt too loud. A comfort show, the one she knew every word of, the one that made her feel like she was sixteen again and safe in her bedroom. Gilmore girls.
The familiar theme song started, soft and familiar. Buck smiled a little as he watched the introduction. He recognized it. “You’ve watched this like, a hundred times at the station.” Buck commented, looking over at her with a small smile on his face.
(Y/n) gave a soft laugh under her breath as she glanced at Buck for a brief moment. “Because it helps. I don’t have to think when it’s on.” she explained.
*Flashback
It had been a quiet afternoon at the station, the kind where time moved slower and the smell of brewing coffee filled the loft. The kind where the sun slanted in through the tall windows, casting warm gold across the furniture.
(Y/n) had claimed her usual corner of the couch in the loft, legs curled beneath her, a mug of tea balanced precariously on the armrest. Her laptop was propped on her thighs, headphones in, her eyes locked onto the screen as the opening notes of Gilmore Girls played for the countless time.
She didn’t notice Buck at first. He’d walked in, drawn by the smell of the tea or maybe just the rhythm of a slow shift. He stopped when he saw her, pausing in the middle of the room with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She looked so peaceful. He could tell just from the way she was sitting, the soft curl of her body, the faint smile that played on her lips as she watched the screen, that this wasn’t just a show. It was a ritual. Something that helped her feel steady when the world didn’t.
He moved to the fridge, trying not to interrupt, but something clattered inside a bottle shifting, something minor. Enough for her to pull out one earbud and glance over. “Hey,” she said, her voice sounding soft.
Buck smiled. “Hey. Didn’t mean to disturb the Stars Hollow peace.”
(Y/n) gave a short laugh. “It’s fine. I’ve seen it so many times I could probably quote it by heart.” she said.
He grabbed a drink, leaned against the counter, and studied her for a beat. “You always look calm when you’re watching that,” he said after a second. She blinked and her eyebrows furrowed at the observation he just made. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Buck shrugged. “It’s just... you’re usually running around organizing reports or juggling everyone’s chaos. But when you’re watching this, it’s like your shoulders drop. Like you can finally breathe.” he tries to explain.
That made her pause and think for a moment. Not because it was dramatic, or over-the-top. But because no one had ever noticed that about her before. She just smiled at him, a little stunned. “It helps,” she said simply, as she nodded.
Buck nodded, pushing off the counter with a casual wave of his bottle. “Then keep watching.” He headed back toward the stairs, but before he disappeared, he called out without looking over his shoulder: “You deserve more things that help you breathe.”
*End of flashback
That line floated back to her now as the familiar theme song played. “You deserve more things that help you breathe.”
She leaned her head back against the couch cushion, tucking her feet up underneath her and focussed on the screen in front of her.
The episode played. Then another.
Buck didn’t say much. He just sat beside her, his arms relaxed, his presence warm. Not too close, not too far. It felt… right. She noticed the way her shoulder rested just slightly against his arm. The way she wasn’t pulling back. How the quiet between them wasn’t awkward.
At some point, maybe between episodes three and four, her eyes started to flutter shut. Her head drifted softly, landing lightly against Buck’s upper arm. He shifted just enough to make it more comfortable for her without waking her.
She didn’t see Buck glance down at her. She didn’t see the worry still in his eyes, or the way his jaw clenched at the memory of that alley. She didn’t see him get up twenty minutes later, carefully, so carefully… so he wouldn’t wake her. How he grabbed the throw blanket folded on the back of her couch and gently laid it over her. How he hesitated for just a moment before sitting back down beside her.
Not close enough to touch, but close enough to keep watch.
She woke later, blinking sleep from her eyes, the room dim and quiet. The TV was still playing softly in the background, casting a soft glow across the living room. And Buck was still there…
He was slumped slightly against the armrest of the couch, head tilted to the side, asleep. His arm hung off the side, fingers curled loosely. One shoe still on, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. Like he had been watching over her until exhaustion pulled him under.
(Y/N) sat up slowly, the blanket slipping from her shoulder. Her eyes lingered on him. She didn’t say it out loud, but in her heart she knew: He didn’t have to stay. But he did.
Based on this request: Buck x reader where he can’t sleep without her either scratching his back or chest softly with her fingertips/acrylics or holding his hand. Like he reaches for her in his sleep because he just HAS to have her touching him
For all the comparisons that Buck gets to a golden retriever, he likes to think of himself more cat-like.
Because don't cats love curling up in a ball and for people to scratch behind their ears?
Buck should probably add the specification that it is less that he wants random people to scratch behind his ears, but more specifically you to.
It had started on a seemingly casual night. The two of you were still fresh into dating and living together, and he had gone for a jog in the evening. Once he came back, he had flopped down next to you on the couch. You had been reading a book with a seemingly innocent cover that Buck has since learned can be very much deceiving. You had initially shrieked in amusement and fake disgust at his sweaty self being on the couch, but the two of you eventually fell into a comfortable silence. The low hum of the A.C. unit, the muted noises of traffic, and the occasional page turning were the only sounds emitting from your shared home. Buck had felt calm, his usually fast-paced thoughts finally slowing down for a spell. He had laid down, his head in your lap, and without skipping a beat, you transferred the book to your one hand while the other sank into Buck's damp curls. You absentmindedly started running your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly with your nails against his scalp in the form of a massage. Buck swears he must've purred, which definitely backs up his likeness to four-legged creatures.
Buck had fallen asleep practically immediately, and ever since then, having your hands on him became such a privilege that he craved constantly.
It was another random weekday when Buck enters your shared home at 8:25 a.m., just having finished a 24-hour shift. It was a brutal one, one too many close calls involving kids, so Buck is tired all the way down to his bones.
Buck stops in his tracks when he sees you in the middle of the house. You're usually out the door by 8:00 a.m. for work, so this was a surprise. A very pleasant surprise.
"I heard you had a long day so I rearranged some things to work from home today." You explain at Buck's nonverbal question, walking towards him and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck in a hug.
Buck leans into you, melting into your embrace. You start running your fingers through his hair, caressing the back of his neck in a comforting gesture. It was seamless; fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces.
"What can I do?" You ask him softly.
"You just being here is enough." Buck answers.
And it was the honest truth. Buck had realized that having you in his arms always felt like coming home.
Summary: You’re playing football with the team and Jake gets a little worked up, he goes to cool off but you have plans of your own.
a/n: Glen Powell is always on my mind guys 😣 i can't escape him
No one on this team is more of a flirt than Jake Seresin, he’s been all over you since the day he laid eyes on you. It’s not that you don’t enjoy the attention but you know better than to give into him. Although your fight is starting to waver. He might be a flirt, a real player, but damn is he perfect.
He is, to say the least, an attractive sight—and that was what annoyed you the most, his perfect smile, the way he'd smile your way, making your heart skip a beat, his cocky demeanor, and the way he looked in his flight suit.
The beach football game was in full swing, the sun was shining and the team was split into two. You wore a red bikini top and some shorts, and you stood out from the rest of the men as one of the two women in the group.
Hangman was having a really hard time focusing on the game, his eyes constantly traveling to you. The sight of you in your red bikini top, and shorts, your legs on full display. He constantly found himself getting distracted by your body, especially the way your curves looked in the clothing. He was struggling to keep his cool while playing the game but he still was playing decently, however, he kept sneaking glances at you in your lovely attire.
As you moved to block the pass, you noticed Jake was distracted, very much distracted. His eyes were practically glued to your body, it was obvious that he was struggling to focus on the game, the way your body looked in your outfit was driving him insane, he was finding it hard to resist the urge to just stop playing and just look at you instead.
“Are you distracted Hangman?” you quip with a slight smirk.
Hangman's eyes snapped up from your body and he quickly regained his composure. "Distracted? Me? Never" he replied with a cocky smile, trying to act unaffected. His eyes still lingered on your body for a moment before he quickly looked away.
“Oh really?” you brush your hand against his hip, “You look like you’re imagining me without my top.” Hangman's breath hitched when you brushed your hand against his hip, a shiver running down his spine at your touch. And as you walk away, giving him a suggestive glance over your shoulder, he couldn't help but let out a low, quiet groan.
"God damn you" he muttered to himself as he watched you walk away, his mind replaying your words over and over, the image of you without your top on now burned in his mind.
Hangman's eyes were fixated on your chest, watching every move as you jumped up, the way your breasts bounced and the way your body moved. He was trying so hard to focus on the game, to ignore the way you were distracting him, but the more he tried, the more his thoughts became filled with only you.
He shifted uncomfortably in his shorts, feeling them becoming tighter and more restricted as his mind filled with thoughts of you, the way you looked in your bikini top.
As the game ended and your team won, you turned to look at Jake, only to find him looking incredibly distracted. It was obvious that he had been struggling to focus on the game in the last few minutes, his eyes had been constantly on you, the way you moved, the way you looked in your bikini.
"You okay over there, Hangman?" you ask with a knowing smirk, enjoying the effect you were having on him. Jake's eyes snapped up to meet yours, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a cocky smile, though his voice was slightly strained. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to act nonchalant, but he couldn't help the way his eyes drifted down to your body again, taking in your appearance.
As the team sits on the beach with their beers, enjoying the sunset, you notice Jake stealing glances at you, his eyes wandering to your body every now and then. You smirk to yourself, knowing exactly what he's looking at.
And when you catch his gaze, you pull your hair back, revealing your collarbone to him, a subtle yet deliberate tease. Hangman's eyes widen slightly, his gaze immediately drawn to the exposed skin, his mouth going dry at the sight.
Jake mumbles something about going for a swim, adjusting his shorts as he walks towards the water. You catch a glimpse of the subtle movement, noticing the way he's trying to hide the aching bulge.
As he enters the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, hoping the cool water will help calm his arousal. But looking around, he catches sight of you sitting on the beach.
You quickly slip out of your shorts, aware that Jake's gaze was fixed on you. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every move you made. The thought of him watching you made you feel a little bit daring.
As you stepped towards the water, you made sure to move slowly, giving him the full view of your body in your bikini, the evening's light emphasizing your curves and making you shimmer.
“Thought I would join you.” As you stepped into the water, a shiver ran down your spine from the coldness, immediately bringing a sense of goosebumps on your skin. But still, you continued to approach him, your eyes full of mischief.
Jake's eyes followed your every step, his gaze tracing the contour of your body, the way your bikini top moved as you adjusted it, his breaths becoming more shallow as you neared him.
“You seem really worked up there, Seresin.” you tease, stopping in front of him.
Jake took a shuddering breath, trying to keep his cool as he replied with a smirk. "Worked up, honey? Never."
But his response was strained, his voice hoarse as he struggled to maintain his composure with you standing so close. His eyes were raking over your body once more, taking in the sight of you in your bikini.
“So then, you wouldn’t mind if I swam topless?” you raise an eyebrow, watching his reaction. Jake's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face.
He tried to keep his cool but couldn't help the way his mouth went dry at the thought of you with no top on. "I... uh... I'd actually prefer if you did." he managed to say, his voice gruff and his eyes fixated on you, hungry and full of lust.
“Tsk, of course you would.” you turn your back to him, “Then why don't you do the honor and untie me.” Jake swallowed hard, his eyes following you as you turned around, showing him your back and the strap of your bikini top. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin against his.
"You really don't need to ask twice," he said, his voice low and hoarse. He took a step forward, his hands moving to the strap on your back, his fingers slightly shaking from excitement and anticipation.
He slowly untied the knot, his eyes never leaving your body, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing second. Jake's eyes were transfixed as the strings dangle at your side, his hand moving closer to your bare skin, yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his.
But he held back, waiting, waiting to see if you would pull it from around your neck, anticipating the moment when he could finally let himself touch you. "God damn.." he breathed out, his eyes raking over your bare back, his hands twitching by his sides, holding onto the last bit of self-control he had.
“You’re holding back a lot better than I anticipated.” you tease, turning to face him. Jake's breath hitched at your touch, the feel of your finger gently pressing under his chin to make him meet your gaze sent a bolt of electricity through him.
He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but the feeling of your hand on his skin and the sight of your bare chest in front of him was driving him insane. He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours, his voice hoarse as he replied "You have no idea how much I'm holding back, darlin'.."
Your hand trails down his chest, fingers tracing his muscles as you move closer. “I don't want you to hold back Jake.” his eyes darkened with desire as you stepped closer, your bodies almost touching.
He took a ragged breath as your words registered in his mind, "You... you don't?" he managed to breathe out, his voice low and gruff, his body tensing under your touch. You shake your head, a small smirk still painted on your lips. You tuck your bikini top in the waistband of your bottoms, making sure not to lose them.
“I’ve been teasing you for a reason. Don’t you know how impractical it is to play football in a skimpy bikini?” you brush past him, treading further into the water, beckoning for him to come closer.
"You have been a tease.. a very good one," he said, his voice low and hoarse with lust. He followed you into the water, his steps becoming more eager as you beckoned him closer, his body aching to touch you.
You stop moving once the water covers your chest, turning to face him once again. “And you’ve been very good at keeping your hands to yourself.”
Jake couldn't take his eyes off you, watching as the water covered your chest, making your skin glisten in the soft lighting. Your words snapped him out of his trance, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin under his palms.
He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, gently tracing your collarbone with his fingers, the contact sending a shiver down his spine. "I've been trying real hard, but you're making it damn near impossible" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
You shiver at his touch, hands moving to his hips as you grip him softly. “Then stop resisting your urges, Jake.”
Jake's breath hitched as your hands move to his hips, gripping him softly, the contact sending a bolt of electricity through him. Your words echoed in his mind, the small permission giving him the last push he needed.
"You really want me to stop holding back, darling?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you, his hands beginning to move, tracing the curves of your body.
“I want you to fuck me.” your fingers dig into his skin as you kiss his chest. “Right here, in the water.” you gaze up at him, eyes full of desire. Jake's breath caught in his throat as your words hit him, a sharp intake of air as the desire in your eyes and your kiss on his chest made his body tense with need.
"You... you're killing me, woman.." he breathed out, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your body closer to him. "Right here, huh? In the water?" he asked, his voice rough with lust as he looked down at you.
“Mhm..” you wrap your arms around his neck, your hardened nipples pressing into his warm chest. “Right here, out in the open.” Jake groaned as your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressed firmly against his, your nipples hardening against his chest. The feeling sent a shiver of desire through him, his control slipping further and further.
He grabbed your hips, holding you tightly against him, his voice low and gruff as he replied, "You're wicked, darlin'..." he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his body responding to your presence, his need for you growing.
Jake's hands grasped your thighs firmly, gently guiding them to wrap around his waist as the water reached your hips. His strong arms supported your weight effortlessly as he kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth with a passion that mirrored the heat building in your core.
His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping the strands as he deepened the kiss, his desire for you unmistakable. The taste of saltwater mingled with the sweetness of your lips, adding a wild, natural flavor to the intensity of the moment. Your legs tightened around him, your body instinctively drawing closer, craving the connection as the cool water enveloped you both.
The sensation of his bare chest against your skin, the feel of his cock pressing against you, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore were the only things that existed in your world as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding.
As the kiss grew more heated, Jake's hands slid down to your ass, cupping it firmly as he began to move you both further into the water, the gentle waves now reaching your waist. He knew everyone was around, but the lust in your eyes and the feel of your body against his was too much to resist.
The water swirled around you, obscuring the lower portions of your bodies as he began to grind up into you, his hardened length pressing against the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasped into his mouth as the sensation shot through you, your core already soaked and eager for more.
The coolness of the ocean water didn't dampen the fire between you; if anything, it made the heat of your bodies stand out even more, a stark contrast to the surrounding elements. The way he held you, the way his body moved against yours, it was like he was claiming you right here and now, and you couldn't get enough of it.
Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer, the friction between you growing more intense with each passing second. The world around you melted away as your focus narrowed to the two of you, the passion in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.
Jake broke the kiss for a moment, his breaths heavy and eyes filled with a primal hunger. He slid his hands down to the waistband of his swim trunks and with a quick motion, slipped them down, his erection springing free and poking into your clothed pussy. He groaned at the sensation, the fabric of your bikini bottom the only barrier between you two.
His hand slid between your thighs and with a gentle yet firm tug, he slid the fabric aside, exposing your bare pussy to the cool ocean water and his eager length. He leaned back in, capturing your mouth in another fiery kiss as he positioned himself, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance.
You moaned into his mouth, the anticipation building, your legs tightening around his waist as you silently begged for him to fill you. Jake's hands gripped your ass tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed himself closer, the water rushing in to fill the space between your bodies.
The pressure was unbearable, the need for him to be inside you growing with each pulse of your heart. And with one final, desperate kiss, he thrust into you, the feel of your warmness enveloping him making him groan with pleasure.
With a groan of pure pleasure, Jake began to slowly guide your hips on him, his powerful thighs flexing as he thrust up to meet your movements. Each stroke was measured, deliberate, as he filled you completely, the friction of your bodies moving together in the cool water sending waves of heat through your core.
His kisses trailed down from your mouth to your neck, along your collarbone, and to the tops of your breasts, leaving a trail of wetness and desire in their wake. His teeth nipped at your sensitive skin, eliciting gasps and soft moans that only served to spur him on. His hands roamed over your bare back, tracing the lines of your spine as he felt your muscles tighten and release with each movement.
The sound of your moans and the feel of your tight pussy gripping him was driving him wild. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, as his hips met yours in a steady, passionate rhythm. The water around you grew warmer, churned by your vigorous movements and the heat of your passion.
Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body responding to his touch as if it had been made for this moment. His eyes locked on yours, watching the ecstasy build within you, feeling the tension coil tighter with every gasp for breath. His strokes grew more urgent, his kisses more demanding, as he claimed every inch of you, leaving no part of your body untouched by his desire.
Jake's body tensed as his own release grew imminent, his hips bucking up into yours with a desperation that mirrored the need in your eyes. He could feel your warm breath on his shoulder as you buried your face into his neck, the soft moans escaping your lips music to his ears. Each stroke grew more demanding, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy with a slickness that only added to the urgency of the moment.
The water around you swirled with your movements, the waves lapping at your bodies as the intensity grew. His fingers dug into your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you harder, faster, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. He knew you were close, could feel the tremors in your legs and the way your nails dug into his skin. His movements grew erratic, his need for release overpowering his control.
The sound of your moans grew louder, yet not loud enough to reach the shore, your body tightening around him as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final, deep thrust, Jake let go, his body shuddering as he filled you with his warmth, the feeling of your orgasm milking him dry.
You clung to him, your breaths mingling as the waves of pleasure washed over both of you, leaving you both gasping for air and weak in the knees. The world around you ceased to exist as you both rode the waves of your climax, lost in the moment of pure, unbridled passion.
His face was buried in your hair, his breath hot on your neck as his chest heaved with exertion. He was silent for a moment, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant chatter of the others on the beach.
Finally, he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze roaming over your face as if he was seeing you for the first time. You cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his cheekbones.
He watched as your legs unwrapped from his waist, a pang of emptiness filling him as he felt you move away. Jake wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines and curves as if to memorize every inch of you.
You press a soft kiss to his lips, one much less intense than your last few. Jake responded to the softer kiss with equal tenderness, his lips molding gently against yours. The intensity of the moment had subsided, replaced by a quieter, more intimate connection.
He savored the feel of your mouth on his, the taste of your lips, the way your bodies fit seamlessly together. His hands held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry to deepen the connection further.
“Jake,” you murmur his name while pulling back, one hand going to retrieve your bikini top. “Can you tie this back on?” You hand him the small piece of fabric.
Jake's eyes flutter open as you murmur his name, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He watches as you hand him your bikini top, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before he takes it.
"Of course, darlin'" he replies, his voice still hoarse from the previous moments.
He stands in the water, holding the bikini top in his hands, his gaze lingering on your bare chest for a moment longer before he turns his attention to the task at hand. The gentleness of his touch sends a shiver down your back as you lean into his body.
Jake's fingers move deftly as he ties the bikini top on your back, his hands brushing against your skin as he works. He can feel your body shiver under his touch, the reaction making his heart thump a little faster.
As he finishes tying the final knot, he lets his hands drift to your waist, holding you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Done, darlin'"
“Mm, thank you.” You pat his chest as you pull away from him, closing your eyes before you plunge into the cold saltwater.
As soon as you ducked into the cold water, Jake's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back up to him. He pulled you tight against his chest, relishing the feel of your body pressed against his.
"Now, now, darlin'," he drawled, his voice dripping with charm. "We're not done just yet."
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he let his fingers trail up and down your spine. "Can't have you floating away on me just yet."
Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?
Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of execution, Torture (finger in a bullet hole), Shooting, Blood, Scout has a plan, Sexual assault (no penetration, but the attack is described), Desperation, Despairing characters, Deal making, Reunion. I think that's it.
Word Count: 4.8k
A/N: Wow, what a chapter!! Only one more chapter left for this series, can you believe how far we've come? Friendly reminder that I have two writing challenges going at the moment! My Christmas Challenge and my Playlist Challenge are both still taking entries! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!
Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Playlist
Jake Seresin was not going to die today. Not if you had anything to say about it.
You had cried for a good long while on the floor of Penny and Maverick’s parlor, letting Birdie hold you while the Dagger Gang looked on in silent mourning. You knew they were just as upset as you were. They had known Jake their whole lives - to them, they were losing a brother.
Eventually you had managed to stop weeping, allowing Birdie to help you stand as she led you towards the front door. You couldn’t look the others in the eye, too angry and grief stricken to look at them. A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up to make eye contact with soft blue ones.
“I’ve got her, Birdie,” murmured Bob, eyes focused on you. The teacher nodded, stepping aside to allow the bespectacled man to usher you out the door. “Come on, Scout. Let’s get you home.”
The moon shone brightly down on the town of Maverick. You could hear the revelry from the saloon begin to die down as the night drew on. The cool air turned the tears that still clung to your cheeks to ice. The two of you walked down the streets in silence, the stragglers at the saloon growing quieter the farther away you walked.
“I’m sorry.”
You stopped, turning to look at the man next to you. Bob’s expression was twisted into one of grief as he refused to meet your eyes.
“What?” You asked softly, brow furrowing in confusion. He wiped at his eyes, his own brow pinched from the exertion of trying not to cry.
“I’m so, so sorry, Scout,” he whispered, bottom lip trembling. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the bait. I knew something was off, but when they started saying all of that stuff about Bunny?”
He stops, shaking his head, and a stray tear runs down his cheek. You stare at him, taking in the man before you. He looked so small in that moment, like a child learning for the first time that there are consequences in the world. That the universe will one day come and collect what it’s owed.
You don’t blame him, not really. All of the Daggers had flown too close to the sun, but it was Jake that would suffer as Icarus this time. It was Jake that would hurtle towards the surface, doomed to be wrapped in the unforgiving waves of the water below.
“I couldn’t take it,” Bob continued. “I’ve never been that angry before, and the next thing I knew my fist was flyin’, and then everything just happened so fast, and then Bradley was grabbing me, and we all rode out, and Jake wasn’t there, and-”
A sob tore through him, his face crumpling in agony as he folded in on himself. Another sob ripped through, followed by another, and then another. He sank down to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, his sobs becoming so violent that you weren’t even sure he was breathing at one point. You took a tentative step forward, unsure of how to respond. You kneeled beside him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. He looked up at you with wide, terrified eyes as he continued to cry. Your eyes searched his, seeing nothing in them but despair and regret.
“I love Jake like a brother,” he murmured, blue eyes shining in the moonlight, tears still streaming. “He’s been there my entire life, Scout. He taught me how to ride a horse. He taught me how to shoot a shotgun. He helped when my daddy died. He’s the big brother I never had, and now he’s gonna hang because of me. I sent him to the gallows because I wasn’t smart, and I acted before I thought about what it was that I was doing. It’s my fault. It’s my fault, Scout, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it-”
You grabbed him, pulling him into a hug, practically cradling him against you as his sobs started up again. He gripped onto you, desperate for the comfort that you were offering him. His shoulders shook, and you soothed a hand over his head, rocking him gently back and forth as the two of you kneeled on the cold, dark earth.
“I love him too,” you whispered once he had calmed down enough. His shoulders tensed, and you surmised that he was waiting for you to start berating him. Instead, you pulled back, meeting his weary gaze with quiet determination.
“I love him more than anything in this world, Bob,” you smiled. “Don’t for a second think that anyone, myself included, blame you for any of this. Jake made his own choices. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, and so you shouldn’t. Dry your tears, Bobby. He isn’t dying today.”
Bob frowned at your words. “What do you mean?”
“I mean just that,” you smirked. “Jake Seresin is not going to hang tomorrow, God as my witness.”
“Scout, what are you-”
“Don’t you worry about me,” you told him. “Go back to Maverick and Penny’s. Tell the others that you saw me safely home, and that I went straight to bed, alright?”
“What are you going to do?” He asked you, brow knit in a mix of confusion and worry. “Scout, don’t do anything reckless.”
“You don’t need to worry about what I’m going to do,” you smiled, moving to stand. Bob scrambled to follow, eyes darting around before landing back on you. You straightened, pushing your shoulders back. “I have a plan. Now go, before you get involved in something that you don’t need to be.”
You sat outside the saloon, the patrons having long since left. The streets were quiet, the only sound being the wind has it rushed between the buildings. Your muscles ached from the position you had been sitting in for the past couple of hours, waiting silently for the man you had come to see.
The horizon had slowly shifted from pitch black to a soft blue, the sun still shying away from creating the day. Anticipation hung in the air, as if it knew you needed all the time it would give you.
The saloon doors swung open, and you turned, your muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement. Beau Simpson stopped as he spotted you, your eyes locking before he broke away to take in the state of you. Your skirts were still covered in dirt from earlier that night, and your hair had long since come out of its neat bun, tendrils kissing at your cheeks as the bitter cold wind caused them to warm. A sudden wind blew past you, causing a shiver to run up your spine. Beau’s eyes locked back on you, now filled with curiosity.
“Scout,” he greeted with a nod. You said nothing, lips pressed firmly together as you regarded him. An air of apprehension hung around him, his own eyes tired and weary with dark circles laced under them. “What can I help you with at this hour?”
“Are you really going to hang him without a trial?” You asked, all pleasantries gone.
“I won’t take pleasure in it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Why are you not giving him a trial?” You demanded, lips pressing tightly together. “That doesn’t seem very proper for our judicial system, Mr. Simpson.”
“Because the bosses out east are tired of the lawlessness that happens around here,” he bit out, fixing a glare on you. “And your outlaw has spent the past two years out breaking the law left and right with little regard for who he’s hurt.”
“And who has he hurt? What has he done to warrant no trial?”
“There was a string of stagecoach robberies last summer, and before that they robbed a bank.”
“Is there proof it was them?” You asked, jaw clenched. “It could have been anyone.”
Beau narrowed his eyes at you.
“Several eyewitnesses that would beg to differ on that, I think,” he growled. “They want justice for the wrong that was done to them.”
“That money went towards a better cause than just sitting around in silk lined pockets and dusty bank vaults.”
“That’s not something for you or the Dagger Gang to decide. Even if it went to a good cause, the people they stole from have their own ideas about what they want to spend it on. People are funny about their money like that.”
“You don’t have to lecture me on the feelings and habits of the rich, Mr. Simpson,” you told him coldly. “I’m well versed in their sentiments on the matter.”
He sniffed at you. “Then I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.”
“You’re right,” you breathed, putting on a more pleasant face. “We have much more pressing matters to discuss.”
Beau raised an eyebrow at you. “Such as?”
“I’m here to offer a trade,” you announced, clasping your hands in front of you. He snorted, leaning against the column of the stairs.
“And what would this trade be?”
“An outlaw for an outlaw.”
“You’re goin’ to sell out one of the other Daggers to free Hangman?” He asked you, shock coloring his face. You shook your head slowly, a smirk tugging at your lips.
“No, Mr. Simpson. Nothing like that,” you sighed, moving to stand. “I’m offering you a much better deal than a gang with such a short rap sheet.”
He eyed you wearily, glancing around at the street. The sun had just peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the two of you. Soon, others would be joining the two of you on the streets. It was now or never.
“I’m offering you Isaac Cassidy.”
The two of you stood in silence, neither moving a muscle as your words settled in the air. A low chuckle sounded from Beau, building until he had his head thrown back in laughter. The sound echoed through the air before finally dying down.
“You think you can get me Isaac Cassidy?” He breathed, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked at you with mirth. “One of the ten most wanted men in the United States and its territories, and you think you can just hand him over to me like a cat who caught the canary, huh?”
“I don’t think, Mr. Simpson,” you smiled, but there was no humor in your tone. “I know that I can.”
He watched you, humor still twinkling in his eye, but now there was something else there with it. Curiosity? You had seen the same spark in Sheriff Kazansky’s eyes the night before.
“Alright,” he conceded, dipping his head. “If you’re so sure you can get him to me, then I’ll make the deal.”
“Not so fast,” you interjected. “I want Jake to go free, and I want all the Daggers pardoned.”
He shook his head. “I can’t grant them a pardon.”
You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him.
“I can’t grant them a pardon,” he continued, eyeing you up and down. “But I can get the law off of their backs for a while. Enough time for the anger to die down and for everyone to forget about them. There’s always someone out there breaking laws. It shouldn’t be long before your friends are off the radar as long as they keep their noses clean.”
You mulled over his words, studying him for any sign of deception.
“Alright,” you said slowly. “I give you Isaac Cassidy, and you let Jake go and you stop actively pursuing the Dagger Gang. Do we have a deal?”
“How can I be sure you can get me Cassidy?”
“Because,” you stated simply. “Isaac’s been after Jake for months. He’s already got him scheduled to hang. He wants to hurt him as much as possible, and what better way to do that than by going after his girl?”
Beau smirked.
“We have a deal. You better get a move on if you’re going to get away with this. You have until the clock strikes noon, after all.”
You waited in the shade of the saloon, eyes trained on the brothel doors. You had talked to the madame only an hour before, confirming that Isaac was inside with one of the girls. It had been a struggle to get the information at first, the woman eyeing you wearily.
“Please,” you begged her, eyes imploring. “Please tell me he’s here.”
“Why should I?” She sniffed at you, eyeing you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. “It’s not good for business if I just go around telling everyone’s business.”
“Because,” you choked out. “Because someone I care about more than anything in this world is going to be hanged at noon, and the only way I can save him is by trading him for someone else.”
The madame’s eyes softened, looking you over once more as realization washed over her. “You’re Jake’s girl.”
“Yes,” you nodded, eyes widening with hope. “Yes, I am. And I’m trying to save him. I can’t do that unless you help me.”
She stared at you for another moment before sighing. “That’s a tall order. I’m not sure you can pull it off.”
“But I have to try,” you cried, fighting back the tears. You had cried enough in the past twenty-four hours to last you a lifetime. “If there’s a chance I can save him, I have to take it. I just need you to help me with this one small thing.”
She studied you, sighing softly. “He’s here. He’s upstairs with Mary at the moment, and he has been since early this morning. I don’t think you’ll be able to get him out by the time you need him to be.”
“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head. “But you can. You can clear out all the patrons, can’t you?”
“I can,” she agreed with a slow nod. “Is that what you’re wanting me to do?”
You nodded. “Please. I just need him out an hour before noon, if possible. That’ll give me plenty of time to finish out my plan.”
“And what plan is that?” She asked you, brow raised quizzically.
“Stick around and you’ll see.”
So you exited the building, taking up purchase across the street as you waited with bated breath. You watched several men start wandering out of the building, stumbling as their eyes adjusted to the bright light of the morning sun.
It was a little while later when you spotted him. His dark hair was unruly, and he was fidgeting with the suspenders attached to his trousers as he hobbled out the door.
“I’ve never been kicked out for no cleanin’ before!” He hollered back through the door, spitting on the ground before turning to stumbled down the stairs and onto the street. He smoothed his hair back, clearing his throat as his black eyes took in the street. They landed on you, widening in surprise before a cruel smile rose to his lips.
“Well, ain’t this a pleasant surprise now?” He chuckled, looking you up and down with a lick of his lips. “I spent one night with a whore only to walk out to another one sitting here waiting for me.”
You bristled at his words, standing slowly from your perch and making your way towards him.
“And here I was thinking that I was special,” you drawled sarcastically, watching him. He swayed slightly, and the closer you got, the stronger the smell of alcohol became. Perfect.
“Oh, you are darlin’,” he grinned. “Can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with right now than Hangman’s girl.”
“You wouldn’t rather be watching him hang?” You asked, cocking your head to the side in faux curiosity. “Figured you’d like to watch all of your hard work come to fruition in person.”
“I don’t need to be there to know what’s going to happen,” he chuckled. A cold smile crept onto your face.
“Silly me,” you hummed. “I forgot that you like to have other people do your dirty work.”
The smile dropped from his face and he took a couple of steps towards you, his breath now wafting over your face, and the stench of alcohol almost had you throwing up.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” he hissed.
“Or you’ll what?” You goaded. “You’ll have someone else take care of me the way you got the marshal to handle Jake?”
Isaac’s black eyes blazed before a low laugh erupted from him.
“I’ll have no problem putting you in your place, sweetheart.”
“So a woman you can handle,” you chortled. “But when it comes to handling another man, suddenly you become a coward-”
Your head snapped back as Isaac’s hand met your cheek with a resounding crack. Your cheek and lip burning from the impact. You stumbled back, gasping in pain when his hand curled around your hair, forcing you back towards one of the buildings. The air was knocked from your lungs as he pressed you against the wall, your head hitting it with a loud thud. Your vision blurred for a second but you quickly came back once you felt his rough hands tear at your skirts. Your mind flashed back to those months ago when he had caught you off guard. You froze for a second before kicking at him, your hands clawing at his arms as he continued to grip at you. You felt the sleeve of your shirt fall from your shoulder from where he had torn it from its seams.
“Fucking bitch,” he growled, black eyes soulless as they stared at you. You tasted blood from where your lip had busted from his hit. “I’ll put you in your place. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll wish you’d never heard the name Jake Seresin.”
You looked past him, eyes searching for the one person you needed to see what was taking place. You nearly vomited as you felt one of his hands slide up the length of your torso, grabbing at your breast.
“I’m gonna take my pleasure. And what’s left of you after that, maybe I’ll take for Hangman to see just before he swings from the gallows,” he sneered. Your fight intensified as you felt his other hand start to glide up the length of your thigh under your skirts. Your eyes darted frantically amongst the crowd that was beginning to gather. And that’s when you spotted him. You felt a sense of relief wash over you as you looked back at Isaac.
“Did you do all of those things you’re accused of doing?” You ground out, kicking your legs as you fought against him. “Or did someone else do all of those things too?”
He chuckled darkly, removing his hand from your breast as he used his forearm to pin your chest to the wall, stopping some of your struggling. Your hand wandered down to the band of your skirts, fumbling for your escape plan.
“That was all me, darlin’,” he rasped, a crazed look in his eyes now. “Every petty theft, every bank robbery, every assault, and every murder they’ve pinned on me and then some. And now? Now I’m going to ruin you. No one will ever want you once I’m through with you.”
Your hand found what it was looking for, and you grabbed onto it, pointing it into Isaac’s side with a click. His movements stilled as his eyes widened, glancing down between the two of you. Your grip on the pistol was steady, and you thanked yourself for remembering to grab it from Benjamin’s study earlier that night.
Isaac stared at the offending object before throwing his head back into raucous laughter.
“You plannin’ on shootin’ me, sweetheart?” He crowed. “A little thing like you probably doesn’t even know how to use it.”
“Want to bet on that fact?” You asked him, glancing down to take aim before pulling the trigger.
Isaac howled in pain, releasing you as he grabbed at his leg, blood already seeping through the material and down his leg. He stumbled to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he landed. You pushed away from the wall, holding the pistol up and aiming at his head.
“You bitch!” he screeched, glaring up at you. “I’m gonna kill you for this.”
“Did you get all that, Mr. Simpson?” You called over to the marshal, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. Isaac looked up to see Beau Simpson sauntering over towards the two of you, an impressed look on his face as he crouched beside the outlaw.
“I sure did,” he hummed, cocking his head to the side. “Nice shot by the way.”
Isaac’s fury grew as he turned his attention back to you. “Why didn’t you just kill me? It would have been easier than all of this.”
You stared at him coldly, leaning down so that only the three of you could hear your next words.
“The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need you that way so that Jake can live,” you murmured, venom seeping through every word. You crouched down, hand sliding up his leg as you continued. “You’re alive for his benefit. Not mine. Not yours. His.”
You shot forward, digging your fingers into the bullet hole and pulling an agonized scream from the now writhing man.
“If your life didn’t serve a greater purpose than this,” you hissed, feeling his blood seep out around your fingers. “I would have shot you dead like the dog you are.”
You pulled back, rising to stand as you wiped your now bloodied hand on your skirt. Isaac whimpered, hands still clutching his leg. His skin was pale and clammy now, eyes hazy as he stared up at you. You broke away from his stare to look at Beau, who was already looking at you. His face was impassive, but a glint of fear shone in his eyes as he took you in.
“A deal’s a deal,” you stated, lips pressed thin. He nodded slowly, moving to stand.
“A deal’s a deal,” he agreed, leaning down to grab Isaac’s arm and lift him up. The outlaw put up no fight as Beau began dragging him down the street, his legs barely able to support him as he hobbled along.
You felt your adrenaline start to crash, and you let out a shaky breath. You felt everyone’s eyes on you as you watched the two men disappear into the jail. You sucked in a steadying breath before lifting your chin and marching down the street. You heard the whispers of the onlookers as you made your way towards the jail. Several male voices could be heard coming from inside, and you swung the door open to reveal a whole slew of familiar faces. The entire Dagger Gang along with Beau, Tom, Maverick, Benjamin, Nat, and Isaac all stared at you.
“Oh my god, Scout,” Nat gasped, rushing to your side, taking your jaw gently in her hand as she turned your face to the side so she could get a better look at the cut that adorned your cheek.
“I’m fine,” you said quietly, eyes not focusing on anything in particular. You were vaguely aware of Bob and Benjamin coming up to inspect you as well, worried eyes running over you as they all kept asking you questions. You could feel the bruises already forming on your skin, and you were determined to erase the feeling of Isaac’s hands on you.
“What the hell is going on out there?”
Your head snapped towards the voice, a need unlike any other overtaking you. He was still alive. You hadn’t run out of time. You turned expectantly towards Beau who dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“He and the other Daggers are free to go, Tom,” he said, writing down something on his desk. Tom smirked over at you, eyes twinkling in a knowing look. The others looked at Beau in shock as the sheriff sauntered towards the back of the jail. You tried to push past Benjamin and Bob, but Natasha held you in place with a glare.
“You’re not moving until I get a good look at you,” she warned, already beginning her assessment of you again.
“I’m fine, Nat,” you muttered, eyes still glued to the back of the room. A clinking could be heard as the cell door swung open, and you could hear the clattering of chains fall to the ground. A second later, a head of blond appeared as two emerald green eyes landed on you.
“Scout,” Jake breathed, rushing towards you. This time, Nat let you move past her as you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. His arms were warm and steady around you, holding you tightly as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. He pulled back just enough to get a good look at you and frowned.
“Honey girl, what happened?” He murmured, eyes running up and down your battered form.
“It doesn’t matter,” you choked out in a sob, shaking your head and smiling despite the new wave of tears. “You’re safe now.”
“Scout, what-”
“She saved you.”
Everyone turned to look at Beau as he continued to write whatever it was down on his desk.
“What?” Jake asked him, frowning. Beau glanced up at him, face neutral as he looked from Jake to you and then back again.
“She saved you,” he repeated. “She came to me looking to make a trade, one I thought she wouldn’t be able to deliver on if I’m being completely honest. And yet, here we are.”
Jake looked over at Isaac. He was even paler now, head lolling to the side as he sat in the chair opposite the marshal. The blood soaked most of his pant leg now, and a small pool was forming below him.
Jake looked back at you, taking in your torn clothes, bruised skin and bloody cheek. Realization lit his eyes, followed by the glistening of tears.
“You stupid girl,” he choked out, cupping your bloody cheek gently in his hands. “You stupid, reckless girl.”
He placed a kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, followed by each of your cheeks, and all wherever else he could reach on your face. Finally, his lips landed on yours, the desperation and relief so palpable, you could practically taste it as it seeped through every one of his pores.
“Tom, what time is it?” Beau asked, pausing his writing to glance up at the sheriff. Tom pulled out his pocket watch.
“‘Bout five til noon,” he answered, eyeing Isaac.
“Perfect,” the marshal smirked. “Looks like the town will have a hanging after all.”
The crowd was already gathered when all of you exited the jail, Beau having to practically carry Isaac to the gallows.
“Let’s go,” you whispered to Jake, clinging to him like he might disappear if you let him go even for a second. “I don’t want to see this.”
“Of course, honey girl,” Jake cooed, rubbing your exposed arm as he led you in the opposite direction. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
“Scout.”
The two of you turned to see Bradley standing at the edge of the crowd, an unreadable look on his face. You raised an eyebrow at him in question, earning a hesitant look in return. After a moment, he set his jaw in determination, marching towards you. You turned to face him fully just as he wrapped you in his arms. He squeezed you gently, and you wrapped a tentative arm around him in return.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on him,” he replied, pulling back and giving you a small smile. “That was more than any of us did.”
You didn’t say anything as you looked up at him, noticing the spark of respect that stood firmly in his brown eyes. You nodded slowly, pulling back as he dropped his arms from around you. He turned to Jake, pulling him into a brief hug before pulling away once more.
“Try not to get into too much trouble between now and tomorrow, you hear?” Bradley joked, already turning to weave through the crowd. Jake shook his head with a chuckle before turning to look at you, adoration shining brightly in his eyes.
“You ready to head home, honey girl?”
“Please,” you sighed, leaning into him as he turned the two of you to continue walking down the road. You heard tell tale crack of the gallows followed by several cheers from the townsfolk.
The warnings have me on the edge of my seat!! 😨 But I find it so comforting that our beloved Scout has a plan!!! 😭🩷
More under the cut ᯓᡣ𐭩
Jake Seresin was not going to die today. Not if you had anything to say about it.
^ ABSOLUTELY NOT 🙂↔️
You had cried for a good long while on the floor of Penny and Maverick’s parlor, letting Birdie hold you while the Dagger Gang looked on in silent mourning. You knew they were just as upset as you were. They had known Jake their whole lives - to them, they were losing a brother.
^ Yeah keep breaking my heart here…it’s okay…it’s not like I was using it or anything 😭💔💔
“I’m so, so sorry, Scout,” he whispered, bottom lip trembling. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the bait. I knew something was off, but when they started saying all of that stuff about Bunny?” He stops, shaking his head, and a stray tear runs down his cheek. You stare at him, taking in the man before you. He looked so small in that moment, like a child learning for the first time that there are consequences in the world. That the universe will one day come and collect what it’s owed.
^ my poor boy 😭💔💔 this man will never forgive himself if something happens to Jake 🤧💔💔
You don’t blame him, not really. All of the Daggers had flown too close to the sun, but it was Jake that would suffer as Icarus this time. It was Jake that would hurtle towards the surface, doomed to be wrapped in the unforgiving waves of the water below.
^ the beauty of this metaphor is so soul crushing and heartbreaking 💔💔
“I love Jake like a brother,” he murmured, blue eyes shining in the moonlight, tears still streaming. “He’s been there my entire life, Scout. He taught me how to ride a horse. He taught me how to shoot a shotgun. He helped when my daddy died. He’s the big brother I never had, and now he’s gonna hang because of me. I sent him to the gallows because I wasn’t smart, and I acted before I thought about what it was that I was doing. It’s my fault. It’s my fault, Scout, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it-” You grabbed him, pulling him into a hug, practically cradling him against you as his sobs started up again. He gripped onto you, desperate for the comfort that you were offering him. His shoulders shook, and you soothed a hand over his head, rocking him gently back and forth as the two of you kneeled on the cold, dark earth.
^ Omg 😭 I’m devastated for Scout, but knowing how deeply bonded all the dagger boys are and how much they love each other like family is another level of devastation upon itself that I can’t handle right now 💔💔💔
“You don’t need to worry about what I’m going to do,” you smiled, moving to stand. Bob scrambled to follow, eyes darting around before landing back on you. You straightened, pushing your shoulders back. “I have a plan. Now go, before you get involved in something that you don’t need to be.”
^ my girl’s got this 😭 I believe in her!!! 🙂↕️
“I’m here to offer a trade,” you announced, clasping your hands in front of you. He snorted, leaning against the column of the stairs. “And what would this trade be?” “An outlaw for an outlaw.”
^ A trade you say??? 👀👀👀 tell me more!!!!
“I’m offering you Isaac Cassidy.”
^ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YES!!! IM SO HERE FOR THIS!!!!! 😈
“You think you can get me Isaac Cassidy?” He breathed, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked at you with mirth. “One of the ten most wanted men in the United States and its territories, and you think you can just hand him over to me like a cat who caught the canary, huh?” “I don’t think, Mr. Simpson,” you smiled, but there was no humor in your tone. “I know that I can.”
^ She is so strong willed she so can!!! Don’t underestimate her Beau!!! 😤
“Isaac’s been after Jake for months. He’s already got him scheduled to hang. He wants to hurt him as much as possible, and what better way to do that than by going after his girl?” Beau smirked. “We have a deal. You better get a move on if you’re going to get away with this. You have until the clock strikes noon, after all.”
^ You better keep your word Beau or so help me— 😤
The madame’s eyes softened, looking you over once more as realization washed over her. “You’re Jake’s girl.” “Yes,” you nodded, eyes widening with hope. “Yes, I am. And I’m trying to save him. I can’t do that unless you help me.”
^ That’s his honey girl 🥺 The way she was recognized as his girl too 😭🩷
You nodded. “Please. I just need him out an hour before noon, if possible. That’ll give me plenty of time to finish out my plan.” “And what plan is that?” She asked you, brow raised quizzically. “Stick around and you’ll see.”
^ Let me go get my popcorn and snacks because I am sat for this plan 🙂↕️🍿🍫
“Well, ain’t this a pleasant surprise now?” He chuckled, looking you up and down with a lick of his lips. “I spent one night with a whore only to walk out to another one sitting here waiting for me.”
^ You know…the option to have me throw him into a volcano is still open 👊😤
“Oh, you are darlin’,” he grinned. “Can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with right now than Hangman’s girl.”
^ And you know what, if Hangman knew you’d be a dead man 😠
“I’m gonna take my pleasure. And what’s left of you after that, maybe I’ll take for Hangman to see just before he swings from the gallows,” he sneered. Your fight intensified as you felt his other hand start to glide up the length of your thigh under your skirts. Your eyes darted frantically amongst the crowd that was beginning to gather. And that’s when you spotted him. You felt a sense of relief wash over you as you looked back at Isaac.
^ The way people are just watching 💔 I know it’s expected, but it still sucks to see 💔 but also where is the Dagger Gang?? 😭 Are none of her friends around?? 😭💔
Your hand found what it was looking for, and you grabbed onto it, pointing it into Isaac’s side with a click. His movements stilled as his eyes widened, glancing down between the two of you. Your grip on the pistol was steady, and you thanked yourself for remembering to grab it from Benjamin’s study earlier that night.
^ AHHHHH THAT’S MY GIRL!!! 🤭 Although imagining Benji with a gun is so funny to me for some reason 😂 I can totally see Scout with one, but Benji?? No 😂
“Want to bet on that fact?” You asked him, glancing down to take aim before pulling the trigger. Isaac howled in pain, releasing you as he grabbed at his leg, blood already seeping through the material and down his leg. He stumbled to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he landed. You pushed away from the wall, holding the pistol up and aiming at his head.
^ YESSSSSSS!!! GET HIM!!!! I feel so evil for laughing maniacally at this, but he deserved that!!!! 🙂↕️🤭
“Did you get all that, Mr. Simpson?” You called over to the marshal, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. Isaac looked up to see Beau Simpson sauntering over towards the two of you, an impressed look on his face as he crouched beside the outlaw. “I sure did,” he hummed, cocking his head to the side. “Nice shot by the way.”
^ HE WAS WATCHING THE WHOLE THING?!?! 🫢 GOOD.
“The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need you that way so that Jake can live,” you murmured, venom seeping through every word. You crouched down, hand sliding up his leg as you continued. “You’re alive for his benefit. Not mine. Not yours. His.” You shot forward, digging your fingers into the bullet hole and pulling an agonized scream from the now writhing man. “If your life didn’t serve a greater purpose than this,” you hissed, feeling his blood seep out around your fingers. “I would have shot you dead like the dog you are.”
^ I’m like a little scared of Scout, but also in awe of her all at once 🫢💖
“A deal’s a deal,” you stated, lips pressed thin. He nodded slowly, moving to stand. “A deal’s a deal,” he agreed, leaning down to grab Isaac’s arm and lift him up. The outlaw put up no fight as Beau began dragging him down the street, his legs barely able to support him as he hobbled along.
^ A DEAL IS A DEAL YES! HANGOUT REUNION COMING OUR WAY 😭🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
Several male voices could be heard coming from inside, and you swung the door open to reveal a whole slew of familiar faces. The entire Dagger Gang along with Beau, Tom, Maverick, Benjamin, Nat, and Isaac all stared at you.
^ That’s where they were!!! Makes sense 👀 I wonder where they thought Scout was 👀 Also, was Jake’s sister not told what was going on? 😭
“What the hell is going on out there?” Your head snapped towards the voice, a need unlike any other overtaking you. He was still alive. You hadn’t run out of time. You turned expectantly towards Beau who dipped his head in acknowledgement.
^ JAKE!!!!!!!!! 😭
“I’m fine, Nat,” you muttered, eyes still glued to the back of the room. A clinking could be heard as the cell door swung open, and you could hear the clattering of chains fall to the ground. A second later, a head of blond appeared as two emerald green eyes landed on you. “Scout,” Jake breathed, rushing towards you. This time, Nat let you move past her as you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. His arms were warm and steady around you, holding you tightly as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. He pulled back just enough to get a good look at you and frowned.
^ REUNITED AT LAST 😭🩷🩷🩷 MY BELOVED HANGOUT!!!! 😭🩷🩷🩷
Jake looked back at you, taking in your torn clothes, bruised skin and bloody cheek. Realization lit his eyes, followed by the glistening of tears. “You stupid girl,” he choked out, cupping your bloody cheek gently in his hands. “You stupid, reckless girl.” He placed a kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose, followed by each of your cheeks, and all wherever else he could reach on your face. Finally, his lips landed on yours, the desperation and relief so palpable, you could practically taste it as it seeped through every one of his pores.
^ He loves Scout so much it warms my heart to the point where I believe in love again 😭🩷🩷🩷 He probably damn near fainted right there when he put two and two together on what she did, but I know he’s so relieved he gets to be with his honey girl again 🤧💖💖
“Tom, what time is it?” Beau asked, pausing his writing to glance up at the sheriff. Tom pulled out his pocket watch. “‘Bout five til noon,” he answered, eyeing Isaac. “Perfect,” the marshal smirked. “Looks like the town will have a hanging after all.”
^ YES AND A PROPER ONE!!! GET RID OF THAT VILE MAN!!!
The two of you turned to see Bradley standing at the edge of the crowd, an unreadable look on his face. You raised an eyebrow at him in question, earning a hesitant look in return. After a moment, he set his jaw in determination, marching towards you. You turned to face him fully just as he wrapped you in his arms. He squeezed you gently, and you wrapped a tentative arm around him in return. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For what?” “For not giving up on him,” he replied, pulling back and giving you a small smile. “That was more than any of us did.”
^ I’m glad they made up 🥺 Emotions and tensions were high earlier, but in the end things turned out alright ❤️🩹
Jake shook his head with a chuckle before turning to look at you, adoration shining brightly in his eyes. “You ready to head home, honey girl?” “Please,” you sighed, leaning into him as he turned the two of you to continue walking down the road. You heard tell tale crack of the gallows followed by several cheers from the townsfolk. Not once did you look back.
^ Home!! 😭🩷 They get to go back home together!!! 🤧💖💖
Omg omg omg. 😭🩷 There’s one chapter left after this and I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. 😭 Scout is so clever and clear headed and I admire her for that!! I don’t know if I would have been able to put two and two together on what could’ve saved Jake. I would’ve been like Bob just sobbing over the loss 😭💔 I’m so glad Isaac got what he deserved!! 😠😤 And I’m hopeful all the dagger gang will be able to turn things around for the better 🥺🩷 I can’t imagine what Jake had been thinking from the moment he got arrested to sitting in that jailhouse all night 🥺💔 And that morning still thinking he was going to have his life taken from him 💔💔 Ahhhhhh I need to stop thinking about it or I’ll cry 🤧💔 I need to focus and be happy he gets to have his happiness back with Scout 💖💖
I am so excited to see how the first part of their story ends!! 👀💕 Amazing chapter as always!! 🥹💖💖
Summary: Y/N needs a fake boyfriend for her sister’s wedding. Jake Seresin, her childhood best friend, is all too happy to play the part—until pretending starts to feel dangerously real. One bed. Old feelings. A week of dancing around the truth. She thinks he’s out of reach. He’s just been waiting for her to see him.
Themes: fake dating, bestfriends to lovers, pining, slow burn, fluff
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Author's note: A LITTLE HONEYMOON PERIOD YAYYYY!
Chapter 5
Part I – Long Time Coming
Jake wakes before you.
He doesn't mean to. Maybe it’s the discipline trained in him but it also helps if it’s after a good sleep. And in his opinion, it can’t get any better than falling asleep with you in his arms.
Your head rests on his chest, one bare leg tossed lazily over his. His arm is snug around your waist, hand splayed across the dip of your back like it belongs there. Your breath is soft, even. He pushes away hair that’s fallen on your face and watches your face, peaceful and content, like you trust him even here.
She’s mine.
It’s not a possessive thought, not in the usual Jake Seresin way. It’s reverent. She’s mine, the way Texas skies belong to summer heat. The way gravity belongs to earth.
A feeling of contentment overcomes him for the first time in a long time.
He bids his time in bed and stays there with you. He doesn’t really want to wake you but can’t help faintly brush finger lines across your spine. He tries to sear the moment in his brain—the weight of you against him, the smell of your hair, how his shirt looks soft on you.
When you finally stir, he leans down to kiss your temple. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”
You blink slowly, confused at first. The memories of last night slowly coming back to you.
Your body against his. The way he touched you. The things he said. Oh god, the things YOU said.
He smiles down at you, like he didn’t have a worry in the world, and perhaps he truly doesn’t when he has you. He traces your jaw. “You sleep okay?”
You nod automatically, voice hoarse from sleep. “Yeah.”
He rubs your free arm. “Hungry?”
You nod once again, “Mhmm.”
You strive to remain composed when waves of overthinking start to hit you. Jake can see the reality of what happened last night dawning in your brain and knows he needs to approach carefully.
You both get dressed and Jake takes your hand in his as you go out of the room, to go down & greet your family members who are already up and awake.
You separate when you enter the kitchen, letting him make coffee while you sit at the table with your parents. He hums like he does this every morning. He hands you your coffee mug and presses a kiss to your shoulder before taking a seat beside you. All warmth and casual intimacy.
You sip on your coffee quietly, eyes staring blankly ahead.
Jake doesn't miss the tiny retreat. The contemplation.
She's here, but she’s slipping.
Still, he decides to not say anything. Just smiles and entwines his hand with your again under the table. It grabs your attention and finally, you give him a soft smile.
I’ll enjoy this for now. You think.
The moment is interrupted when Jake turns to your mom, “Mrs. Y/L/N, I was thinking,” he says loudly, “before we head back, maybe Y/N & I could spend a night at the lake house. Just us. Little tradition before we go.”
“Why, that’s a wonderful idea, Jake. You guys used to love it up there.” she smiles, a little nostalgic
You stare at Jake at the mention of the lake house. It was something you would never have thought Jake would suggest, but your smile widens because despite the abruptness of it, you really did love the lake house.
He looks at you warmly, knowing you were already on board, “What do you say, darlin’?”
“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds nice.”
The town square hasn’t changed much. A little more polished maybe, but still filled with cracked sidewalks. Familiar shops that smelled like cider were still standing and lined up, even the same diner Jake used to skip practice to hang out in.
You & Jake decided to drop by town before heading to the lake house to grab some essentials and food. You're walking beside him while holding a to-go cup of sweet tea. Your fingers brushing his occasionally. Jake steals glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He’s wearing that lazy, easy smile that used to make every girl in school sigh.
You want to lean into it. Just… let go. But a small voice in your head keeps whispering: This doesn’t last. This is borrowed.
You try to ignore it.
You pass the old pharmacy that’s now a boutique, when a tall brunette steps out.
You see her eyes widen.
“Oh my god,” she says. “Jake Seresin?”
He turns and recognition lights his face. “Christy?”
Recognition also settles within you when you realize it’s Christy McAllister, one of Jake’s ex high school girlfriends.
She throws her arms around him before he can even fully answer.
Jake feels caught and awkwardly pats her back once before pulling away. You stand to the side, watching, trying not to watch too hard, but your fingers curl tightly around your cup.
“You look amazing,” she says, dragging her eyes over him. “I mean, I know socials are there and you’re in Top Gun now but wow.”
Jake chuckles politely. “Thanks. You look good too.”
Christy finally turns to you. Her smile falters for half a second.
“And this is…?”
Before you can speak, Jake’s hand slides into yours.
“Y/N Y/L/N, remember?” he says easily. “My girlfriend.”
You jolt.
She pauses for a second. “Oh. Wow.”
Jake smiles, sharp now. “Yeah, been a long time coming.”
Christy laughs, but there's something edged about it. “Well, that explains it. Everyone always whispered about you two in high school.”
You raise a brow. “Whispered?”
“Oh, come on. The way Jake always hovered around you? I thought for sure you were secretly married.”
Jake rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. Good seeing you, Christy.”
He tugs you away, hand still wrapped around yours.
You walk in silence for a block before he speaks.
“Don’t let her get in your head.”
“I’m not,” you say too quickly.
But you are. Because suddenly you’re that girl again, watching Jake talk to the Christys of the world and wondering if you were ever someone people thought he’d choose.
Jake doesn’t press but he knows what you’re thinking. He always knows.
You just got back to the truck after getting what you needed. The silence was double-edged. A mix of comfort and restraint. Jake hadn’t pushed but he can tell the encounter with Christy definitely touched a sore spot.
You’re still buzzing, insecurity lingering after the encounter with one of Jake’s ex-girlfriends. How dare she pacify you when in reality Jake never even considered you back in high school.
“You okay?” Jake finally checks-in
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just the heat and all.” You excused poorly
Jake raise nods slowly in doubt, “Mhmm”
“Stop that.” You roll your eyes at him
“Stop what?”
“Acting like you obviously know I’m lying.” You glare at him
“But I DO know you’re lying. So just tell me what’s bothering you.” Jake presses
You mutter something incoherently which had Jake firmly requesting you to repeat again
“I didn’t like how she touched you,” you reluctantly admit
Jake glances at you, surprised.
“Christy?”
You try to sound nonchalant but failed miserably in the following rant, “She had her hands all over you. I mean she obviously saw you with a woman right? Why would she just assume she could hug random men she hasn’t seen in a decade suddenly?”
He smirks. “So you were watching.”
You puffed. “I have eyes.”
He pulls the car to the side of the road suddenly, turns off the ignition.
“Jake—”
He leans over the console and cups your jaw.
“I don’t want Christy. Or anyone else. I want you.”
You open your mouth, some sarcastic retort on your tongue, but he kisses you first. Rough. Needy. Tongue sweeping into your mouth like he’s trying to erase the last thirty minutes.
Your fingers grip his shirt, knuckles white. He groans when you tug him closer.
“You’ve got to stop doing that.” You scowl at Jake
He smirks smugly, acting oblivious, “Doing what, darlin’?”
“Randomly kissing me to shut me up.” You pout
Jake simply smiles, “You get jealous,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “God, I love that.”
You gasp, breathless. “Don’t be an asshole.”
He kisses you again, harder.
When you finally break apart, both of you breathing heavily, he rests his forehead on yours.
“Let me prove it to you,” he whispers. “Let me show you exactly how gone I am for you.”
You nod, throat too tight to speak.
And the car hums quietly around you as he starts it again—both of you a little shaken, a little wild, and very much not done.
summary: finnick’s playing his game—and you’re still figuring out whether you want to play along.
word count: 3k
warnings: none!!
author's note: this is real guys i swear!!! no more takebacks
part two
The elevator hums softly as it glides upward, its glass walls revealing the Capitol in all its sleepless splendor. It's nearly midnight, but the city shows no signs of rest. Lights blaze from every tower, painting the streets below in shimmering golds and sharp silvers. Billboards flicker with moving images—smiling faces, swirling colors, glittering outfits too pristine to be real. You catch glimpses of people down below, laughing, dancing, strolling arm in arm like life has never hurt them. Music spills from somewhere in the distance, a haunting, melodic beat that mixes with the low roar of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter that rises above it all.
It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. But it’s too perfect. Too clean. Like sugar spread over something rotting. A sweet, dazzling lie meant to distract from the bitter truth underneath. Because you know what they’re really hiding behind all this glitter. You’ve seen what it costs to keep this city glowing. And no matter how high you rise in this elevator, no matter how much sparkle surrounds you, the weight of that truth stays heavy in your chest.
The elevator keeps climbing, and so does your view. The Capitol stretches wider the higher you go, a glittering sprawl that pretends to be paradise. But all you can think of is how much blood it takes to keep these lights burning. How much suffering is buried beneath every perfectly paved street.
You would know. You’ve lived it. You’re living it.
You're one of their Victors—dragged from the dirt, polished up, and paraded like a masterpiece. A victor, they say. A symbol. But here, you’re nothing more than a puppet dressed in velvet and gold, your scars hidden beneath makeup, your nightmares disguised as charm. They love to pretend you won something. That you're lucky. But all they ever gave you was a cage with softer walls. They smile as they use you—your pain, your story, your silence—squeezing it all out of you like you're still in the arena.
And still, the Capitol thrives. It feasts on the resources torn from the lower districts, squeezing every ounce of labor and material out of them until there’s barely enough left to survive. Districts built on coal, crops, fish, power—bled dry so the Capitol can drink from crystal glasses and decorate their skin in gold dust. They call it progress. They call it peace. But it’s just another mask, another illusion stretched over a machine that runs on cruelty.
The elevator slows, but your thoughts don’t. The higher you go, the clearer it becomes: the Capitol doesn’t rise on its own. It climbs higher by standing on the backs of those it crushes. And now you’re here—somewhere in between the shadows below and the lights above—wondering how much of yourself they’ll try to take next.
Yet somehow, what haunts you tonight isn’t the faces of the tributes you’ve sent to their deaths, or the hands that always touch you like they want a piece of you, or even the warnings Snow gave you when you won your Games. It’s him. Finnick Odair.
The Capitol’s Darling. Their favorite. A name that rolls too smooth, a smile too practiced. Golden in every way that matters to the people up here—and somehow still infuriatingly hard to ignore. You’ve spent the last few days dodging him, brushing off his charm, pretending you don’t hear the whispers that follow the two of you every time you’re seen in the same room. And then he offered that deal. Like it was nothing. Like it made perfect sense.
We could fake it. Give them what they want.
It irks you to no end. Such nonsense shouldn’t bother you this much. What would you even get out of it? Sure, maybe Snow would ease up. Maybe some of the Capitol elites—those old, greasy men who eye you like a meal—would back off. But being stuck with Finnick Odair? Playing lovers for the cameras, kissing in front of strangers, holding hands like it means something, only to go your separate ways once the trip ends? Doesn’t exactly sound like freedom.
And yet—there’s something about the way he held you. The way his eyes softened when you pushed back, the surprising gentleness in his touch when no one was watching. It’s frustrating, really. You barely know him. You met him by accident—a stupid closet incident that led to a series of unfortunate events, which somehow led to this: standing in an elevator, too high up in a glass tower, thinking about his stupidly handsome face.
You shouldn’t be thinking about it. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.
But what’s the worst Snow could do, right? He wouldn’t really hand you off to those disgusting, scrawny old men. Would he?
You’ve done everything he’s ever asked. Played your part. Kept quiet. Smiled when you were supposed to. Gave him everything he’s wanted.
But still, there’s a voice in the back of your mind. Cold. Certain.
He’ll want more.
The elevator doors sigh open, and the chill of the hallway kisses your skin like a reminder that you’re still here—still part of this glittering cage. You step out, the soft carpeting muffling your footsteps as you make your way down the corridor. It’s quiet at this hour. The kind of Capitol quiet that doesn’t feel restful, just watched.
Your fingers graze the seam of your jacket, half-wishing for a cigarette, half-wishing for anything that might shut your brain off for five damn seconds.
Because still, he lingers.
You don’t want to think about Finnick’s offer. You don’t want to pick apart the way his voice dropped when he said it, like he was offering you a lifeline instead of a trap. You don’t want to remember how steady his hand felt on your back during that dance, or the way he looked at you like maybe you weren’t just another piece being moved across the board.
He’s a liar. A charmer. Everything you’ve learned to avoid. And yet, you can’t quite shake the feeling that he meant it. That behind the easy grin and practiced winks, there’s something else. Something he’s hiding. Maybe something just as tired as you.
Your door’s only a few steps away now, and you can almost taste the quiet that’ll come when you’re finally inside, away from all of this. Away from him, from the noise in your head. You’re almost there. You just need to shove everything back down, pretend none of it ever happened, pretend he never happened.
But then you round the corner and slam straight into him.
Your shoulder hits his chest hard, and you stagger back, cursing under your breath, already bracing yourself for some random getting in your way—but, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
There he is.
Finnick Odair. In the flesh.
Like your thoughts summoned him. Like you didn’t just spend the last five minutes mentally dissecting every single syllable that came out of his mouth.
He’s dressed down, for once—no gold trim, no silk cravat, just a simple grey shirt and worn trousers—but somehow he still looks like a Capitol ad. Hair tousled, sea-glass eyes sharp with surprise that quickly melt into something far too pleased.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Speak of the devil,” you mutter as your arms come up to cross over your chest.
A stupid grin slowly spreads across his face, yet it doesn’t hold any mockery. It’s warmer, like he’s relieved to find you. “Were you thinking about me?”
This time, you don’t hold back. You roll your eyes, fully. “In your dreams, Odair,” you say, shoving past him as you continue down the hall.
Your door’s in sight, just a few feet away, and you almost feel the relief of putting some distance between you and this persistent pest. But there’s something eager in the way Finnick shuffles his feet, keeping pace.
“Please, sweetheart,” he says, his voice dripping with that smirk you hate, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for me.”
“You’re one to talk,” you snap, annoyance seeping out like the moonlight that pours down through the window beside you, bathing both of you in its glow.
You stop short, spinning on your heel so fast that it almost catches him off guard. His chest comes dangerously close to colliding with yours, but his reflexes are quick enough to pull him back just in time.
You narrow your eyes at him, annoyed. “Aren’t you supposed to be four floors below?” you accuse, taking a deliberate step back to put some space between the two of you.
Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned while staying here, it’s that you are never alone.
Finnick tilts his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours as if he’s trying to read you, like there's something he’s not quite seeing. His lips twitch, but he keeps his distance, letting you maintain the space between you both, even if it’s only for the moment.
“Four floors below sounds like a nice vacation,” he says, voice light, but his gaze sharp, like he’s poking at something deeper. “But here I am. Guess I just can’t seem to stay away from you.”
You snort, crossing your arms tighter over your chest as you resist the urge to roll your eyes again. The last thing you need right now is more of his nonsense, but of course, the Capitol's golden boy would find a way to worm himself into your evening. Or midnight.
"You must really like the view from up here," you reply, glancing out the window as the city below sparkles with false promises. "Or maybe you're just lost."
“I know exactly where I’m going,” he says, leaning just a little closer, not enough to invade your personal space but just enough to make you notice how tall he is when he does that. “I came to find you, after all.”
You bite back a laugh, a mixture of disbelief and irritation bubbling up. “Is that so? You really think I’m just waiting around for your grand entrance?”
His grin widens, and it’s infuriatingly confident. “You were thinking about me, weren’t you? I could tell.”
You open your mouth to shoot back something sharp, but instead, you pause, the words catching in your throat. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something that isn’t all playfulness or teasing. You can’t place it, and that bothers you.
“So what’s the deal, huh?” You finally say, voice softer than you’d like. “You really think this whole thing—whatever it is—could work? Pretending?”
He doesn’t answer right away, instead taking a step back, giving you space to breathe. But his smile doesn’t fade. “What if it did?”
You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure of how to respond. You’re already too far down this path, and it feels like you're teetering on the edge, caught between wanting to get away from him and not being able to walk away just yet.
“You don’t want to know what’s really in my head,” you mutter, barely audible.
“Then show me,” he challenges, his voice soft but full of something unspoken. “I’m listening.”
You blink at him, but the expression on his face is so earnest that, for a moment, you almost forget why you’re so annoyed. Almost.
The moment passes. You glance away, your eyes finding the door once more. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
Finnick lets out a low chuckle, but it’s not mocking this time. It’s genuine, like he knows he’s won this round, even if you haven’t said it out loud. “It’s one of my best qualities.”
Before you can argue with him any more, your hand finally reaches for the door handle. You stop just before opening it, turning back to him one last time, eyes narrowed. “Stay out of my way, Odair. I don’t need you following me around.”
Just as you were about to shut the door, a foot wedges in, blocking it from closing. With a huff, you yank at the door again, your lips pressed tightly together in a thin line, frustration simmering as you stare at Finnick. But this time, you’re not just glaring at him. You’re actually looking at him—looking, really seeing him. Straight into those sea-glass eyes that have a way of pulling you in, making everything else fade into the background.
Not a single thought crosses your mind as you take him in, caught off guard by how easy it is to get lost in the details. The soft light spilling from the open door highlights his perfectly tanned skin, glowing almost unnaturally under its warmth, like some sort of magic. His features are so sharp, so defined that it feels like someone carved him from stone, a sculpture brought to life.
Your gaze drifts from his eyes, now more intense than ever, to the bridge of his nose, straight and proud, like it’s been molded by a master craftsman. The light catches the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, subtle and endearing, like faint constellations across a flawless sky. Then, your eyes linger on his lips—plump, full, too perfect to be real, but somehow he makes them look effortless.
You catch yourself staring, caught in the smooth, flawless lines of his face. His beauty isn’t just skin deep; it’s something that feels ancient, something that has always been, like it belongs to the very fabric of the Capitol itself.
You blink, and for a moment, it feels like you’re waking from a daze. But it’s too late. You’ve already memorized every detail. The silence stretches between you both, and it’s the first time you realize how much his presence can fill a room. You could spend hours just studying him, tracing the angles of his face, the curve of his jaw, but the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s already read your mind. Like he knows what you’re thinking before you even realize it yourself.
You’re still standing there, caught in the trance of his features, when you notice it. His lips. They’re curling—ever so slowly—into that infuriating, cocky smirk you’ve come to recognize too well.
It’s the smirk that knows exactly what it does to you. The smirk that doesn’t need words because the look alone says everything.
And just like that, the spell breaks. The warmth from before, the softness that you’d felt, evaporates in an instant.
You blink, suddenly aware of how long you’ve been standing there, your pulse quickening with embarrassment. You meet his gaze again, but now there’s no softness in his eyes, only an annoyingly smug glint that makes you want to smack him.
“Were you just staring at me?” he teases, his voice light, as though he’s completely aware of the effect he’s had on you.
Your irritation flares immediately, wiping away any lingering traces of that strange pull you’d felt. “You know you can have all this to yourself—”
“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice low, the annoyance sharpening the edge of your words.
He raises an eyebrow, the smirk never quite leaving his face. “Not a fan of compliments, huh?”
“Not from you,” you snap, stepping back, ready to shut the door and escape from this ridiculous situation before it gets worse.
Finnick doesn’t move, his smirk only widening as he watches you, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having. “You sure about that? Because I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” you spat, the words sharp as you shoved against the door, aiming to slam it in his face. But Finnick’s quick—faster than you expect. His hand shoots up, catching the door before it can fully close, his fingers brushing against the wood in a way that feels too deliberate, too close.
You freeze, your grip loosening as you process his sudden movement, and that gives him the chance to push the door open completely. Now, his arm is stretched above you, his proximity much too intimate for comfort. His nose is only a few inches from yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath, stirring something inside you that you desperately try to ignore.
“Did you at least think about it?” he asks, the teasing gone from his voice, replaced by something far softer, more genuine. The shift catches you off guard, knocking the breath from your lungs.
You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but all you can focus on is how close he is. His presence overwhelms you, and you feel heat creeping up your neck, flushing your face. "What?" The word comes out breathless, confusion tangled with it.
Finnick lets out a low chuckle, clearly amused at your reaction, but he doesn’t press it. Instead, he lets the teasing slide for now, shifting his weight as he gives you a moment to catch up.
“The deal,” he repeats, his voice quieter now, like he’s waiting for a real answer. You can hear the sincerity there, even if you don’t want to.
Your brows furrow, and a scowl twists your lips. “No.” The word comes out stronger this time, as if you’re trying to put a hard stop to this entire conversation. Your hands move to his chest, shoving against him with force. “And I never will.”
His gaze softens for just a second, like he’s trying to gauge whether you're serious or if this is just another game for you. “You don’t even know what it could do for you.” His words linger in the space between you, and you feel them like a challenge. “It would solve so much of your problems, make things easier—at least for the time being.”
But you won’t let him. You’ve heard enough. “Don’t,” you cut him off, a warning in your tone that leaves no room for further discussion. You don’t need to hear more of his reasoning. You’ve made up your mind, or at least, you tell yourself that you have.
With one strong push, you manage to make him stumble back, the sudden movement enough to send him off balance. You quickly seize the opportunity, slamming the door shut with a finality that’s meant to stop him in his tracks.
The sound of it reverberates through the hallway, sharp and unyielding, but even as you stand there, catching your breath, you can still feel him lingering in the air. Like a shadow, his presence clings to the space, and despite the door separating you, there’s no escaping the imprint he’s left behind.
Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> After a rough chase, you and Tyler burn off some energy and he has you seeing stars.
Disclaimer: Does contain smut, mdni. Friends to lovers/FwB, fluff, mentions of tornado damage, a very relaxed yet naked Tyler in bed, feelings, pining. Not fully proof read.
It was meant to have been a one time thing. So why couldn't you stop thinking about it?
The chase had happened months ago. An EF-4 dropped out of nowhere. Just showed up on your doorstep without any warning. Sure, it was the season for it. But there were usually weather changes and warnings on the morning news.
You had been with Tyler, driving home from town having just confirmed the bakery order for Boone's birthday cake in two weeks time. The final details had been put into place; the same for the venue and the band.
You'd been talking about what to make for dinner later that night. With Dexter out sick, the rota skipped his turn making it yours. Chicken or beef burgers? Fish? Go European and do breakfast for dinner?
Twenty minutes later, Tyler's truck was drilling itself into the ground outside your house. The wind was picking up and your body got slammed into the porch stand. He dragged you down low as you both ran through the house and towards the back door. Both of you made it inside quick enough to feel the tornado pass overhead.
Maybe it was adrenaline, or the need to feel grounded. But as you came up from the shelter, you found your house mostly intact, save for the broken porch pieces and torn up ground around your property.
Your heart was beating faster than it had ever done. You'd chased plenty of tornadoes before. But you'd gone in with a plan. This time, there was no plan. Just pure need for survival.
The only thing that registered in Tyler's mind was the feeling of your hand in his. and somewhere in the thirty seconds that followed, the only feeling he could register was you. All over him. Soaking into his bones with the rest of the rain and soil.
Ignoring the broken windows and overturned dining table, Tyler's boots had scuffed against your wooden floor as he walked you backwards. You kept him close to you as he began to unbutton his wet shirt, both of you letting it fall onto the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
Walking up the stairs, his hands remained on you. You stopped halfway up when you felt his kisses stop and focus on your neck. You had let out a small whimper and he couldn't wait any longer.
Your front was pressed against the solid wall beside your stairs, his mouth trailing across your skin until he finally turned you around, leaning his full weight against you. You hoped his belt buckle made a lasting impression on your skin.
Finally making it to your bedroom, Tyler kicked the door shut with his foot and the rest became nothing more than an orgasmic haze of wonder.
You and Tyler didn't say anything afterwards, other than the agreement that it wouldn't be mentioned ever again. You were friends. And you worked together. And the team had left several voice messages letting you know they were on their way to check on you and Tyler.
Tyler let you shower first, but you couldn't deny you liked the image of seeing him relaxed against your headboard, knowingly naked and freshly fucked under the lazily draped duvet.
You found him a cream coloured Henley shirt and a pair of his jeans he'd left last time he and the others had stayed over. Twenty minutes later, you and Tyler were cleaning up what you could of your kitchen. Every once in a while, you looked behind you to see the way his wet hair fell down and his face remained concentrating on whatever he was thinking about.
But you didn't have long to look because the others pulled up outside of your home, running inside to hug you both and make sure you were okay.
"We didn't know it had hit you until someone said it had picked back up just west of the town. Everything told us it was gonna be heading North."
"It's okay. We're okay." Tyler assured them all.
From then on, you both moved forward. The team helped fix up your porch and kitchen. You called your insurance company and they were gonna be sending someone out to fit new windows. Outside, yourself and Kate started to rake at the broken ground.
"We can always just cover it with grass seed."
You nodded. "I know, but I think I might try and plant a few things. I've always wanted to start an actual garden. Might as well whilst Mother Nature is bringing the ground up for me."
But despite the distractions; the redecorating, repainting, gardening. Despite all of it, one thing remained on your mind constantly.
Tyler Owens.
And not in the way he did before.
Despite the adrenaline rush and the slight lapse in judgement from both of you consenting to spend that kind of time together, you could remember everything. Every single last detail. The way his hand felt in yours, the way they felt wrapped around your waist, the way they felt when he gripped your hips tight and pulled you closer to him, the way his lips felt and the way his tongue danced across your skin, the way he left his mark everywhere, the way his fingers felt curling inside of you, the way he felt inside of you, the way he moved, the way he kissed, the way he spoke.
Every last detail was like a constant movie in your head which was driving you crazy.
Yet, despite the live movie in your head and the feeling of your own hand drifting down your body, slipping under the tight waistband of your shorts, nothing could work away the ache that he left with you.
No matter how soft, slow, hard or fast you tried -- nothing could live up to the reality of Tyler Owens knowing your body better than you did.
But it was meant to be a one time thing. A single, consensual, lapse in judgement.
So why did it happen again?
A week after Boone's birthday party where you'd spent the entire night trying to avoid Tyler's eye contact, and after three separate chases that left you with an even stronger desire than the last to seek him out when the tension kept you awake at night. Tyler tapped on the side of your truck.
"What are you doing so far out here?"
"What are you still doing awake?" You asked as you watched him climb into the flatbed.
You had driven your truck out into the darkness of the field, far away from the overhead lights of the motel so you could see the stars. If you weren't going to sleep, you might as well look at something other than a motel ceiling.
"I asked first," Tyler told you.
"Trying to see the stars. Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither," Tyler sat beside you. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
You nodded and smiled. "I'm okay."
It happened somewhere between Tyler talking about one of the constellations and moving your hand a few inches over when you pointed at the wrong one, that you turned and looked at him.
Similar to the first time, it happened somewhere within the next quiet thirty seconds that was filled with rapid heartbeats and his hand in yours. Only, Tyler was the first to surge forward, hurriedly pushing the hair from the sides of your face and kissing you like your life depended on it.
Laying you down on the flatbed, you finally relaxed for the first time in weeks, under his touch. His kiss roamed further and further south until he'd pulled your bed shorts from your body, only to find you completely bare underneath.
The groan that racked his body as he pulled you closer to him by your thighs left you with an aching need all over you. Your back arched under his wet kiss, but he held you down before pushing his hand further up your body.
You were definitely seeing stars.
"T...Tyler...I need...I need..." You tried to speak through the gasps that left you.
Through fluttered lashes, you saw him look up. "I know," he kissed at your clit before kissing the bare skin of your lower belly. "I know, Sweetheart."
Once his kiss finally reached your lips, it was scorching. His fingers worked their way back down your body as your own fiddled with his belt buckle and lowered his jeans and underwear just enough for you to reach him.
Tyler broke your kiss for a moment, watching as he guided himself in you, only to quickly look back at your face as you lay under him. Your mouth opened just that little bit wider as he slid further inside of you, your head rolling back as your eyes closed in order to remember the full feeling of him.
"Sweetheart..."
You managed to open your eyes long enough to look into his. You held onto his face and nodded.
"You can move."
He started slow at first, lowering himself so his nose brushed yours, until his forehead rested against your own. In, and out. Slow. Tantalisingly slow.
"Tyler," you gasped as he pushed back into you.
His kiss trailed lazily across your jaw until his tongue felt your quickening pulse and his ears were filled with the slight hitches and breathy moans that were escaping your lips.
"I've been dreaming about this..." Tyler whispered into your neck. "Ever since..."
You nodded, quickly. "So have I..."
Finally looking at you again, he kissed you, before he pushed deeper into you, his pace picking up ever so slightly.
By the time you'd both finished, you held Tyler inside of you just a little longer. And he waited, memorising the feeling of you clenching around him, chanting his name along with a small string of swear words as he let you ride you high out on him.
There was no guarantee that it was ever going to happen again, so he savoured the moment. But, by God, he was praying it would.
DESCRIPTION: Tyler Owens was your best friend once, until he left for college and broke the promise to keep in touch. By the time he tried, your world had already fallen apart, and you weren’t interested in picking up the pieces with him. Years later, fate strands him on your porch with a busted truck and nowhere else to go.
WORD COUNT: 5.9k
WARNINGS: Childhood friends. Enemies to lovers. Angst (but it gets happy I swear). Emotional hurt/comfort. Confessions. Arguments. Kissing.
NOTES: You should give King of Possibilities by Goldie Boutilier a listen :3
MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!
Tyler Owens had his hands tied. He walked onto the all-too-familiar porch with his hands in his pockets and his tail between his legs. It looked exactly the same as it did all those years ago. The white wooden panels and the porch swing that creaked in the dry wind. The rickety door swung open, and there stood his old friend’s mother. Wrinkles and graying hair had appeared on the woman who treated him like a son growing up, and they suited her perfectly.
“Ms. Shirley, you’re glowing.” He said with that low country accent and charming smirk.
She laughed and slapped her hand against his shoulder. “Tyler. It’s been too long… My, you’ve gotten so big. Come on, now. It’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol out here.”
He chuckled and walked in. Thank god for Southern hospitality. His truck had broken down while passing through his old hometown, and he had nowhere to stay. With his parents having moved to Oklahoma City thanks to his streaming income, he forced himself to buck up and make the phone call. Money was running too tight to book a motel room like everybody else, but he’d never admit that.
Stepping inside, he looked around. The decorations were slightly more modern than they used to be. There were fewer crosses and religious memorabilia than he remembered, and he was sure that the death of her father contributed to that. He had grown so much that the space now felt cramped. It used to look so big to him as a kid.
“Does Y/n know I’m here?” He asked, looking down at the older woman.
She nodded her head, but didn’t say anything. Quickly busying herself with pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge, she let out a quick “Mmmhm.”
He let out a stressed chuckle and shook his head. “I take it she’s not too happy.”
Shirley looked at him with pursed lips and wide eyes. “Well…”
Y/n rode her grey Appaloosa mare, Checkers, down the fields. She told herself that she was making herself useful, making the rounds of the ranch. Scolding the chickens when they’d attempt to peck at the fence and counting cows, making sure none had somehow made it onto the main street. But deep down, she knew she was just distracting herself. All the main chores were already done by this point. There was something… someone who weighed heavily on her mind. She tried to keep her thoughts locked away. But they were like a box of bees, and her mom had just shaken the hell out of it.
When her mother told her that Tyler Owens was staying for a few days until his truck was fixed, she ran to her room and slammed the door like she was that heartbroken teenager again.
She and Tyler were inseparable growing up, and only became closer in high school. She’d go to every one of his rodeos, and he’d stop by and help her out with the ranch. Though ‘help out’ was a strong presumption, they spent most of it running around and laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. Every summer, they were glued at the hip.
So when Tyler told her he was going to college, she didn’t worry. She figured they’d still remain close. Technology was getting better and better. They could text, call, and Skype. Though even then, she was a little teary-eyed, waving him goodbye from her truck as he stood on the steps of the university. It didn’t hit too harshly at first, because she was just so damn proud of him…
But then the texts and calls started getting fewer and fewer. He never had time to Skype. Yet she’d see what he’d post on Facebook and see all the photos of him partying. Riding mechanical bulls instead of real ones. Arms around girls who came and went. She stopped reaching out altogether.
After her father died, Tyler became scorched earth to her. She locked herself up and focused her efforts on the ranch and barrel racing at the rodeos when she could. And when Tyler made a name for himself as the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler, ’ whatever that meant, she blocked all his accounts.
She spread out some feed for the chickens from horseback and steered herself back towards the stable.
That’s when she saw him walking down the back porch and towards her.
Tyler Owens in a white shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat. She hated it. She hated how bulky he had gotten and the facial hair that was groomed on him. She hated how he strode over with a newfound confidence. She hated how he looked good.
“As I live and breathe, someone came crawling back,” Y/n said, looking down at him from her high horse. She did enjoy the fact that she was above him from Checkers’ back.
He didn’t say anything, just looked up at her and took off his hat in almost respect. In almost servitude.
“The Tornado Wrangler finally made time in his packed schedule for little old me.” She said snarkily, “Oh, no. He just needed a favor.”
“You look good, Y/n.”
Rolling her eyes and pretending that it didn’t affect her so much was difficult, but she managed.
“Mama won’t let me make you sleep in the hen house, so you’re sleeping on the couch.” She simply said before turning her horse and riding her into the stable. If it were back then, they could’ve easily shared a bed. Now she’d rather sleep in the hen house herself than share a bed with Tyler Owens.
Once she got under the roof, she climbed down and held onto the lead to guide Checkers into the empty stall. She gently rubbed up and down her muzzle. Checkers was one of the few horses that wasn’t so sensitive to touch, and instead sought it out. It was therapeutic for her. That’s why she never competed with Checkers. She was too special.
Calming down, she didn’t notice Tyler walking in and looking around.
“You renovated the stables.” He exclaimed, startling her.
She turned around with a glare. “Well, without you here to distract me, I started barrel racing. Needed to upgrade.” She looked around at her own handiwork, “So I added the Dutch doors that lead to the pasture and installed the fans. Insulated the roof and walls. Added the ridge vents.”
His brows raised. “You did all this?”
“Hard to believe?” She asked, not even looking at him.
He tentatively followed her as she walked down the stable, checking on each horse. He shook his head. “You never… You never did that sorta thing in high school.”
“Well, that was before Daddy died and before you left.” She said bluntly. Her anger bit into every word.
The silence that followed could kill. It could strangle Tyler Owens till he was nothing but a slab of stone in a graveyard.
“Well… Your mom wanted me to tell you that supper’s gonna be ready soon. And to shower before you sit down at the table.”
Her brows were furrowed as she looked at the horse in front of her, avoiding eye contact with him. “Got it. You can go now.”
With a small defeated huff, he turned around and walked back toward the house. It was then that the heartbreak she had been walling up began to make itself known. She wiped her teary eyes and pretended it was just sweat, just in case Tyler looked back.
After her long, cold shower, she walked out into the kitchen in an oversized T-shirt and gym shorts. The old shirt was a rusty orange with a margarita design and the lyrics to Jimmy Buffett’s ‘Margaritaville.’ On the back in big bold letters was ‘It’s 5’o o'clock somewhere’. She didn’t even remember where she had gotten it.
Yet for some reason, when Tyler saw her from the kitchen table, he smiled knowingly. “I remember that shirt.”
“What about it?” She asked, sitting down across from him, slumped. Why’d their dining table have to be so small? She looked over at her mom, who was putting on oven mitts to grab the slow cooker.
“Play nice, Y/n.” She warned.
Tyler smirked at the interaction. “Used to be mine. Remember?”
She shook her head stubbornly as her mom put the pot roast on a little rubber mat between her and Tyler. She immediately started fixing her plate. Again, not sparing him a passing glance.
“Nope.”
He tilted his head with a look of disbelief and looked over at Shirley and back before going. “We got rained on. We were in town getting seed, and your shirt was white, so I gave you that one to cover yourself up. Walked back shirtless and with chicken feed dripping down my back.”
The memory unfolded before her, and she did remember it now. Freshman year of high school. They didn’t let Tyler into the gas station to grab smokes for his dad. No shirt. No shoes. No service. But he refused to take the shirt back.
She sat silent for a moment as her mom sat down next to her. All the food was placed before them, and even though she had worked up an appetite being outside all day, she suddenly didn’t feel hungry.
“I remember that now.” She admitted softly before grabbing a roll of corn.
“Seems like you don’t wanna remember a lot.” He quirked back, scooping some mashed potatoes onto his plate. Her mom had cooked as if twenty people were coming instead of just Tyler. But between the two of them, they both could eat like dogs.
She squinted her eyes at him. “Only thing I remember is you promising we’ll keep in touch.”
Her mother sighed, “Ya’ll. Let’s keep this civil. Looking at you, Y/n.”
She scoffed with wide eyes. “Mama, am I wrong?” She hated the way she sounded. Tyler being there had aged her back ten years. Even her voice raised in pitch like she was eighteen years old again.
Shirley just shook her head, refusing to comment. After a few more shoveled bites, Y/n got up from the table and cleared her plate quickly. It wasn’t polite. She almost always asked to be excused, but her mother didn’t scold her for that tonight. She clattered the plate into the sink and stormed off.
Tyler looked at Shirley with an ashamed look on his face. The fact that he had hurt her had lingered deep in him for years. He hadn’t meant to. He had been a stupid kid, and found himself swept up in the new adventure of college and making new friends who weren’t the same four people in town. By the time he had thought about reaching out, she had stopped all communication.
“I’m sorry about her, but you gotta understand-” Shirley started.
He shook his head. “No, no… Frankly, I deserve it.” He looked back over at the hallway she stormed down to her bedroom. “She’s still the same spitfire she was back then. Even more so.”
Shirley sighed, “That’s why she’s gonna end up without a husband and forty horses.”
Tyler laughed. “Don’t say that. She’s gonna be just fine. I don’t think there’s a man in town who wouldn’t fall head over heels for her.”
“Until she comes at them with her… fiery personality.” Shirley explained, “We all tried. Tried setting her up on dates and with the other boys in town. But after Ben died, she just chewed them all up and spit them out. Focused on those goddamn horses instead.”
He sat soaking it in. The fact that he wasn’t there when her father passed haunted him. It was during his finals week, and they hadn’t been talking for a while by that point. Sure, he had sent a card, but he was also sure it ended up in the trash.
Shirley saw the solemn look on his face. She reached out and put her hand over his. “Lemme show you something.”
Y/n rolled around in bed. Usually, she’d knock out as soon as she hit the pillow. But the muffled chatter and laughter from the living room got louder and louder. Tyler’s stupid, gruff laugh rang out with her mother's, and it was driving her up the wall.
With a huff, she walked out with her arms crossed and slowly walked over to the living room. Even though she was pissed… she really couldn’t be angry. It was barely nine. So instead, she crept forward, letting curiosity get the better of her.
On the couch sat Tyler and her mom, and a sense of confusion washed over her. She looked and saw a leather-bound album on her mom’s lap. She’d never seen that before.
“Remember that rodeo? You were so upset, but Y/n insisted that ice cream would make you feel better, so she practically dragged the two of us to Sparky’s Parlor ten minutes before closing.” Her mom retold, and as she peered over the couch, she saw the lost picture of her and Tyler eating a banana split. She was mid-laughter as Tyler was mid-bite.
She had thrown that picture out long ago. Actually, as she looked at the album pages, she had thrown out all of those photographs so long ago. They used to hang up around her room, or were in a little folder under her desk. Back when she used to spend all her allowance on point-and-shoot cameras. Her mom had taken a few of them, but it didn’t matter. They were all supposed to be gone.
“Where’d you get those?” Her voice came out small.
Tyler and her mom looked back, surprised by her presence.
“I held onto them. You spent so much money on all those rolls of film, we couldn’t let it go to waste.” Her mom said a little nervous.
But she wasn’t angry. A surprising sense of gratitude fell over her. The memories she had tried so hard to forget were still preserved.
She leaned over onto the couch and placed her head between the two of them. Looking down at the album, she pointed to one of herself wearing a birthday hat, standing awkwardly in front of a frosted cake. Tyler had a grin on his face as he yelled something at her- it was him very enthusiastically singing Happy Birthday.
“Got some use out of all that yelling, huh?” She directed the comment at Tyler.
He chuckled and looked over at her. Their faces were close… But then again, so was her mom’s. “Turns out audiences outside of you like it.”
She shook her head before standing back up. “Put it away, Ma. I look awful in them.” She stated before walking away.
And before she closed the door, she could hear Tyler say, “We’re getting somewhere.”
Seeing Tyler in her kitchen the next morning felt strange. For one, he was up at the crack of dawn, just like she always did. She didn’t let her mom touch an ounce of the farmwork, so that meant waking up early to do the hard jobs before the heat set in.
Secondly, it sent her flashes to her favorite summers, where he was over practically every day. A sense of déjà vu coursed through her.
“Mornin’” Tyler stated holding up a coffee mug as he leaned against the counter like he owned the damn place.
“Morning.” She reluctantly grumbled, opening the cabinet to grab a mug herself, but was interrupted by Tyler sliding over an already steaming cup towards her. She took it. “Thanks.”
The early morning silence was peaceful with the sound of the birds waking up outside. But now there was this tense awkwardness between them, and it was pissing her off.
“Need any help with the chores?” Tyler asked, crossing his arms.
“Been doing them on my own for the past seven years, so no.” She said.
He sighed and took a sip. “You know that the two of us can finish this ranch in half a day. Could do it back then, could probably do it faster now.”
He was right, and she knew it. The day would be done in half the time with somebody else. And especially if that somebody was already well-versed, and probably (most definitely) stronger than her.
She gave him a tense smile. “Well, if you’d like to shovel and scrape the shit out of all the pens-”
“Got it.” He interrupted, and when she was caught off guard, he let out a laugh. “You know that doesn’t bug me. You gotta try harder than that.”
“If you’d like to clean out all the troughs, go right ahead.” She said with a challenging brow. Cleaning out the troughs meant dealing with the great mystery slime of animal saliva and chewed-up food. Sometimes there’d be a dead bird or drowned rat in there on the bad days.
“I’ll do it.” He said.
“Cleaning out all the fly and mouse traps.”
“Consider it done.”
For a moment, she had forgotten everything, and she was simply going back and forth with her best friend. But she didn’t let that nostalgia transfer into a smile on her face. She kept her face cold as stone.
She looked him up and down.
“Good. You’ve got your list for today, then.” She walked out the back porch door.
Tyler was in the middle of changing out a huge fly trap by the stable when he saw her. Y/n rode on an Appaloosa horse that he didn’t recognize. The job was Tyler’s least favorite. He’d rather shovel shit than deal with the heebie jeebies of taking out a wax card of dead flies and mosquito’s. That’s not even to mention the mouse traps. But he was also well aware that it was her least favorite, too. Or at least it had to be. She always squealed at the sight of any bug back then… But it seems she was forced to face it head-on after him.
Being able to watch her was a perk, at least. She looked downright gorgeous on that horse. Her hat shadowed her, and her hair blew back as she strided the horse down towards the chicken coop. She had changed a lot since he had last seen her. He’d see the photos on her mom’s social media, but nothing beat seeing her in real life. Her face calm as she wiped sweat off her brow and took off her flannel, tying it around her waist. This was when she was most beautiful, and he wished that she didn’t look so angry around him.
She threw some feed over the fence, and he could vaguely hear her talking to the chickens as if they were people. It had always made him laugh growing up, and as he let out a soft chuckle, he realized it still did today.
After she finished feeding the chickens, she turned the horse to head in another direction, but saw Tyler. They both froze for a moment, just staring. There was this obvious feeling of missing each other between them, and he wanted to resolve it so badly. It felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch. A problem he knew that once it was resolved, would fix everything.
He waved, and she took it as a sign to come over. As the horse trotted closer, he got a fluttering feeling in his chest. It was like he’d been noticed by a celebrity. Which was ironic considering that he was somewhat one himself.
Her horse skidded to a halt next to him.
“Having fun, Owens?” She asked with a tight fake smile.
He looked up at her for just a second before hanging his head with a laugh. “So much so, actually.”
She rolled her eyes. “When’s that truck gonna be fixed?”
“Two days from now, why?”
An evil smirk lifted her face, and he groaned a little. He’d be doing this collection of the worst possible chores for the next few days, and he knew it.
She shrugged and continued riding on.
Y/n was having too much fun. She got to do all of her favorite parts of ranching while he did all the dirty work. Of course, a part of her felt guilty for making him do that. She wasn’t completely evil, and watching him shovel shit didn’t make her feel as satisfied as she’d hoped it would. But she did hope that it’d at the very least teach him a lesson. Give him a taste of what her life looked and felt like for so many years.
They’d completed everything by mid-afternoon, which was way earlier than she was used to. Usually, she’d walk in just in time to shower for supper at sunset. It was the perfect weather too, with grey skies and rolling clouds that blocked the sun. Tyler would always get so excited about ANY possibility of a storm growing up. So subconsciously, she enjoyed these days too.
She was walking down past the sheep pen and down towards the house when she saw Tyler doing the same thing.
“UH UH, Owens. You’re not walking in my mama’s house trailing in every disgusting substance known to man.” She called after him.
He slowly turned and put his hands on his hips. “Is that not what you do every day?”
A smirk lit up her face again. “I hose off.” And it was true. She’d hose off her hands and her boots before drying them off and walking back in. But she had a better idea for Tyler.
“Really? Show me.” He said, unconvinced. He clearly didn’t believe that she did, and was just using it to get the chance to blast him with water. Which… yes and no.
She gestured for him to come follow her to the side of the house. They walked up to a little tiled-off area with the hose. Towels were already set up on the stool for the following days. There were a few boots that sat left to dry.
Tyler gave a little groan mixed with a laugh. But he just watched as she got the hose and turned on the spout. A gentle stream of water poured through the nozzle.
“It’s just a little water, Tyler.” She said, but a hint of trouble melted over her tone.
He ran his hands down his face and then threw them up. “Okay. Okay.” He sauntered over and reached for the hose, but she pulled it just out of his reach. His brows raised. “Sweetheart, I can hose myself off like a big boy.”
She couldn’t help but widen her eyes in surprise. Jesus Christ. When did Tyler develop a habit of calling people sweetheart? Suddenly, she was wishing he called her that more.
Pulling herself together, she scrunched her brows at him. “I don’t want you wasting water.” It was a flimsy excuse, but they both knew what she wanted to do.
He sighed, knowing she was too stubborn to give it up, and walked towards the tile. His face automatically flinched as he put his hands behind his back.
“STOP ACTING LIKE I’M GONNA SHOOT YOU DOWN.” She couldn’t resist the pure laugh that came out of her. “You’re like a god damn baby.”
“Just do it alread-”
She predictably changed the nozzle to a spray of pressure and shot the water all over him. Cackling as she ran the water up and down him.
“Are you-”
She moved the hose back up to his face, shutting him up. By the time she was done, his flannel and tank top were sticking to his body like wax paper. And his medium wash jeans had become a dark navy blue. She turned the hose off, afraid she had gone a little too far, until he started laughing and running his hand down his face.
He scooped water out from the bridge of his nose. And while he was momentarily blind, she took the second to watch how his shirt had become see-through. Her breath hitched at the sight of his muscles. They both had grown up, and he wasn’t the scrawny boy she used to know. Sure, back in the rodeo days, he had strong biceps and shoulders, but he was so lean. Now he was just… pure muscle.
Tyler suddenly started walking towards her. “Get over here.” He said gruffly with a smile.
She squealed and tried to run away while using the hose to fend him off, but it weighed her down. “NO! NO! TYLER!”
He managed to wrap his arms around her waist and pick her up, grabbing the hose from her hands and dousing her.
“There ya go. Now we’re both clean.” He said through their shared laughter.
They didn’t even notice Shirley watching the commotion from the side window, shaking her head with a nostalgic smile on her face. She turned back in and returned to cook for supper.
She looked up at him as he turned off the hose. They were both completely drenched, their clothes slightly see-through. And Tyler let his arms linger around her waist. Her breath audibly hitched as he looked down at her with those sea green eyes. But after a moment that felt too long, she got her bearings and escaped his grasp. She grabbed one of the towels off the stool and threw it at him.
“I’m showering first.” She said firmly, but her attitude didn’t feel as strong as before. It was like her defenses were slowly being chipped away.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said, using the towel to dry his hair.
That night, Y/n found herself in her room, having snuck the album her mom had made. She went through the pages, and it felt like someone had broken through her chest and gripped her heart. It hurt. Even though he was in the next room over. It hurt like he was still gone.
She flipped through way too many pictures of Tyler. Him on the walk to school with her. Him with one of her chickens on his shoulder. Him riding her old horse. He was so young in all of them, with a baby face, barely able to grow any facial hair. There wasn’t a single photo where he wasn’t grinning ear to ear.
Those weren’t too bad. The ones that hurt were the ones her mom or somebody else had taken of her and Tyler. Proms and homecomings. They had their separate dates or went as friends, but still always needed a picture together. Birthdays. Trips to the lake. Graduation.
She looked at the last one in the album. It was a picture of her and Tyler on the steps of his University. The last time she had ever properly seen him before this whole incident. Their arms were wrapped around each other. Her eyes were teary, and for the first time, he wasn’t wearing a grin. He had a sad, no-teeth smile on his face as he had his arm around her shoulder.
A tear drop fell onto the plastic sheet of the photos. She didn’t even realize that she had been crying and sniffling like a baby. Stifling a sob, she got up and walked out of her bedroom.
Knowing Tyler was asleep on the couch, she walked briskly past, trying not to wake him. Her hand covered her mouth as she stumbled through the dark to get out through the back porch.
By the time she had shut the sliding door and run towards the stable, she didn’t notice Tyler sitting up, having been awake the whole time.
It was just what she needed to ground herself. Sitting on the floor of the stable stall with Checkers, who lay half asleep, but eager for the random midnight pets. She scratched behind her ears and down her muzzle. Running her fingers through her mane, she was able to finally let out a shaky breath.
The night was quiet and still. Nothing but the hum of the fans and the whirring of the cicadas in the distance. She gently let the back of her head hit the wall.
“Y/n?” A voice called. Shit.
Checkers got up, startled with a whinny. She quickly got up with her and gently put her hands on her muzzle, grounding her again. “Hey hey hey. Shhhhh. Shhhh.” She hushed, calming the horse down.
She didn’t look over at Tyler, standing outside the stall in pajama pants and a grey T-shirt.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook her.” He said, coming closer and leaning on the stall door. He put his forearms on the top and rested his chin on them, watching her. “I don’t recognize this one.”
She swallowed and wiped her swollen eyes with her forearm. “Checkers.” Her voice came out weaker than she had hoped. She just wanted to pretend like everything was normal. “This is Checkers.”
Tyler reached out, and Checkers instantly came over and nodded her head towards his hand. “People lover. I see why you ride this one a lot.” He gently patted the horse's head.
She stayed silent and just watched as he gave the horse some love.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” He asked, not looking at her, like she was a scared animal that he needed to gain the trust of.
She coughed. “Nothing. There’s nothing.” She said as she walked out the stall door and down towards another one. The white horse in that one didn’t get up, and instead lay sleeping. It was a common misconception that horses always slept standing up. Only sometimes. And this horse wasn’t as loving as Checkers was.
“You’re in the stable in the middle of the night crying…” He pointed out, and she sniffled, just proving his point.
He pried away from Checkers and meandered towards her at the next stall. Looking down at her, he went to reach out and brush some of her wild hair out of her face, but she turned the other way, dodging him.
“Come on. Y/n, please.”
Her face crumpled up, and her eyes naturally watered to a point where they overflowed. “I hate you. I hate you so much.” Her voice cracked, “You left me. You-you promised we would stay in touch, and you couldn’t-you didn’t even do it when he died.”
His face softened to another level she had never seen before. With big eyes and a soft frown on his face. “I know. I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry, it’s not even funny.”
Everything was pouring out of her heart and reaching her face to spill out of her mouth. “I had no one! Dad’s dead, you’re AWOL, mom’s in a catatonic state, and I had a whole ranch to somehow take care of while grieving the one person that came before YOU.” She didn’t mean to yell, but it just naturally came out that way. “You threw me away like I was nothing.”
She didn’t miss the tears in Tyler’s eyes now. He sniffed and pinched his nose to get rid of them.
“You’re not nothing. If I could go back in time, I’d do anything to stop myself from doing that to you. It haunts me. Every day.”
“THEN WHY HAVEN’T YOU REACHED OUT?” She pushed his chest. “HUH? You’re too busy with your whole internet fame? And your groupies and buckle bunnies?” She hated that term. She’d always scold Tyler for using it growing up, yet here she was using it.
Even though she was shoving him and yelling, Tyler didn’t move towards her. He didn’t raise his voice. “Because I knew it was too late. I knew that nothing I did would ever make up for leaving you on your own like that. And while I’m here, I sure am trying. But no matter how many troughs I clean or traps I change, I know it won’t make a dent towards the debt I owe you.”
She hiccuped and put her hand to her chest. Her inhales were sharp, and she looked up at the roof, as if the tears could just go back in her eyes. All the hurt that she had been suppressing had spilled out right in front of her. It was terrifying. There was a silence as she thought about what to say. So Tyler took the chance.
“I don’t want you to ever forgive me for that, okay?” Tyler said, stepping towards her now, and he sighed as she finally didn’t move away.
In the smallest voice possible, like it was a secret she wasn’t supposed to say, she said, “I missed you so much.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she didn’t fight it. Though she didn’t move at first. After a minute, she brought her arms up and wrapped them around his trunk of a torso.
Tyler sniffled, tearing up, “I missed you, too.” He murmured into her hair.
Two days later, a rusty pick-up truck drove up and parked on the street beside the house. Tyler and Y/n walked out onto the front porch so slowly, like they were stalling for time. She took in the sight of the pick-up with all the weather gadgets and add-ons to it.
“Wow… Looks like… a hot mess.” She said honestly, which made him laugh.
The last two days were spent working on the farm, and it was like no time had passed. She was still trapping Tyler in milking stations, and he was still trying to sneak hay into her hair any chance he could. Doing the chores together instead of separately made the tasks go by even faster, so that they could spend the rest of the day eating her mom’s cooking and talking on the porch swing as the fireflies whizzed by.
A tan man from the driver's seat of the pick-up truck rolled down the window, “LET’S GO, TYLER! COME ON! GOT SOME CELLS IN THE EAST AND NEW ROCKETS!” His shrill voice called out.
“One second, Boone,” Tyler yelled back with less intensity. He raised a finger to him and turned back to her.
“Sounds exciting.” She said, looking up at him.
He paused just to soak in her face for a moment. “Yeah, well… we’re just going a town over.” There was silence, and he reached out to grab her hand. He squeezed it, and she took in a deep breath. “I’ll be back right after, okay?”
A terrible feeling in her gut returned. The fear that he wouldn’t be back, and that she’d be left in the dust again. And he read her very obvious face with a small nervous smile.
He took his alabaster cowboy hat off his head and placed it on hers. “Take care of this for me. I’ll be back for it.”
It surprised her. She knew he wore that hat all the time. It was practically embedded in his branding for his channels. So the fact that it was now resting on her head gave her a sense of confidence again.
He went to step off the porch, but she gripped his hand before he could take it away. Pulling him towards her, she stood on her toes to connect her mouth with his. Surprised, but very happy, Tyler immediately kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her waist. He brought one hand to tilt her hat up and make space for him before returning it to her waist. She hugged him tightly, and he pulled her into his chest, making her back arch into a backwards C. With a small chuckle, she pulled away.
“For good luck.” She shrugged.
“Oh, I’ll be back for more of that, too.” He said, leaning in again.
burgers🍔: laying on their chest while watching the sunrise with jake, please and thank you!
Rachel, it's an honor and a pleasure as always (lol).
You lay right on top of Jake in the field of tall, swaying grasses, relieved that at long last, your dream property in Texas was yours.
It had been a long road and a tough road, one that you and Jake had been down many times with more than enough bumps in it. Two deployments, 1400 miles and numerous, grueling nights later, at last, the place was yours.
It had belonged first to George and Helen, Jake's grandparents, who had first bought the place as early as the late '30s, scraping and saving every penny they possibly could with Helen contributing by selling eggs from her chicken coop. The farmhouse had become their home after George had been at sea for four years, surviving the sheer and utter hell that was the war in the Pacific and at last able to settle down with Helen on this little patch of land that had been theirs. The farmhouse had seen them raise five kids, a gaggle of grandkids and at least three great grandkids before George and Helen had made their journey homeward to heaven.
You and Jake lay against each other, totally oblivious to the encroaching Texas heat as the sun began to rise. The skies were tinted all manner of rose red, pink and dusky lavender while the peepers still chirped away.
And it was days like this that you lived for most, laying with your husband to watch those glorious sunrises that marked the beginning of a new day.
The second we pulled into the motel parking lot, I saw his signature entourage. They were sitting in the parking lot, drinking and exchanging stories. I forced myself not to look at him as I walked into the front office to check in my team and get our keys.
After checking us in, I walked out of the lobby. The second I walked out, I looked up and made direct eye contact with Tyler Owens. Tyler and I are constantly running into each other. Tyler chases tornadoes for his little YouTube channel, while I'm a meteorologist for our town's weather channel.
Two years ago, he was chasing and I was reporting when both of our vans got caught in the storm. We ended up having to take shelter in a high school. Tyler and I wandered off and ended up hooking up in an empty classroom.
After that, we ended up constantly running into each other. Whenever we did, we always found time to hook up. Sometimes we hooked up in the back of one of our vans, but most of the time we stayed at the same motels.
"If it isn't Weather Girl Y/N," he smirked.
"If it isn't Tornado Chaser Tyler," I scoffed as I walked past their trucks.
"Got any weather advice for us?" His friend, Boone, asked.
"Yeah," I said simply. "Stay out of my way."
"Or what?" Tyler challenged.
"Or I'll take you down with me."
I ignored the look in Tyler's eyes as he licked his lips. I sent him a wink before heading upstairs to my room. I unlocked my door, making sure to leave it slightly open as I slowly got settled. I could hear things start to die down outside. Once people started going to bed, I turned off the janky TV and "got ready for bed".
I walked out of the bathroom in nothing but an oversized flannel that was hanging off one shoulder. When I walked out, Tyler was leaning against the now fully open motel room door.
"There you are," he said, his voice low. His eyes slowly scanned my body. "Fuck," he moaned as he kicked off the doorframe and slammed the door shut. I smirked as he kicked off his shoes and froze.
"Is that. . . Is that one of my flannels?"
"It is," I smirked, "You left it the last time we. . . ran into each other."
"If I remember correctly," he said, choking on a moan, "we ran into each other several times."
Tyler's eyes took in every inch of me. As he examined my body, I took note of his jeans tightening.
"I've missed you."
I just smirked as I walked over to the bed and lay down. I heard Tyler let out a deep growl. I closed my eyes as I heard him take off his pants. Soon, I felt someone crawling over me. I kept my eyes shut as his hands slid up my thighs, scrunching my flannel.
"Open your eyes for me, baby girl," he whispered as he dragged his body against mine. I did as I was told and saw the heat in his eyes.
"Hey there, Chaser."
"The only thing I want to chase tonight is you, moaning my name over and over again."
I gasped when he leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck and brought him closer as I kissed him back. As our lips moved messily in sync and our hips rocked, I ran my fingers through his hair. When me doing this drove him a little too crazy, he roughly broke the kiss. Tyler moved his lips from mine to my neck.
"I hate that you make me so fucking weak," I moaned as he bit my neck.
"I love that I make you so fucking weak," he chuckled darkly. I gasped when he grabbed my flannel and tore it open.
"Fuck," he moaned as his eyes took in my bare body underneath him.
"Like what you see?" I asked, slowly undoing his flannel. He sat back, straddling me as he tore his flannel the rest of the way open and threw it across the room.
"Always."
We let out matching moans as Tyler roughly brought his lips back to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started grinding his body against mine.
I gasped, arching my back when Tyler ripped my underwear off me. I moaned as his hands slid up my bare body - all without breaking the kiss. As his tongue explored my mouth, I undid his jeans.
He broke the kiss and I watched as he stripped off his pants and boxers. He was about to get off me, but I stopped him. I sat up and made a show of reaching over to the bedside table a grabbing a condom.
"I was prepared."
"Fuck," he moaned as he switched our positions in one fluid movement. I was now straddling his bare hips. I stayed hovering over him as he slipped the condom on.
I smirked to myself when I realized the only pieces of clothing I was wearing were my bra and Tyler's flannel. There was something about this outfit that always drove Tyler crazy. He especially loved it when I was wearing his hat, but he didn't bring it with him this time.
"Are you ready yet?" I pouted. "I'm getting antsy."
"Sorry, darling," he groaned as he fixed himself. "Safety first."
Once he was ready, he leaned back against the headrest. I slowly walked on my knees until I was in the perfect position. Tyler started eagerly chewing on his bottom lip as I put my hands on his shoulders. He was about to say something, but I brought my hips down to his, making him moan instead.
He grabbed my hips very tightly as I ground my hips against his. As I continued my movements, Tyler swore under his breath repeatedly. I knew we had fallen into a rhythm when he pushed on my back, roughly bringing my chest to his face.
Tyler started knawing on my skin, going around my bra as I rocked my hips against his. When he couldn't handle not being in control, he roughly rolled us over so he was on top of me.
I didn't have time to catch my breath before he wrapped my leg around his bare waist and brought his hips to mine. I arched my back and moaned as he roughly pushed in and out of me. As our hips danced, we moaned loud enough for only the other to hear.
I lost track of time as we focused on pushing each other, inch by inch, over the edge. When we finally fell, our bodies relaxed into each other. Tyler stayed on top and inside me for a brief second before slowly pulling out.
He rolled to the side and, for a moment, I thought he was going to leave. Instead, he grabbed the blanket that had been pushed aside during our dance and draped it over us. I forced myself not to smile as he wrapped his arms around me.
I fell asleep, reminding myself that he'd be gone in the morning. Sooner, if there is a tornado nearby.
* * * * *
I woke up to someone kissing my shoulder. I let out a small moan as I fully woke up. I looked over my shoulder to see Tyler smirking at me.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he whispered, his voice dark.
"Good morning to you, too," I smirked. I rolled onto my back, Tyler now hovering over me. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. As I kissed him back, I grabbed his face and pulled him closer. I felt him smirk as he moved so he was on top of me.
I threw my arms around him as our bodies danced against each other. A moan left my lips as he positioned himself and slipped back into me. I bit his bottom lip as he began thrusting into me. This morning, it didn't take us long to satisfy each other. We never took long in the morning.
We broke the kiss, breathing heavily as Tyler slowly pulled out of me. I gasped when he reattached his lips to my neck. His body was still firmly pressed to mine as he left small bruises up and down my neck.
"Baby," I moaned as his lips made their way down to my collarbone, awfully close to my chest. "I don't think I can go another round."
He moved his lips from my chest to my lips. They instantly moved in sync, our tongues battling for dominance. He broke the kiss with a moan. "I'll go get us some coffee," he whispered. "That way, we can go several more rounds."
I sat up and leaned against the headboard as Tyler got out of bed. I followed him with my eyes as he searched for his clothes and put them back on. Before leaving, Tyler walked back over to me and kissed me.
"I'll be back," he whispered as he kissed me again.
As soon as the door closed behind him, I sank into the bed. I took a shaky breath before finally getting out of bed. I slowly threw on some clothes. I was pulling my hair into a tight ponytail when I heard the door unlock.
I looked over my shoulder, my heart sinking when I saw Tyler sneaking into my room. "Anyone catch you?" I had to ask. I turned around and crossed my arms over my chest.
He looked up, the expression in his eyes changing. "No," he said, his voice soft as he walked toward me. "It's still kind of early. My team is never up before 10 am."
"And mine doesn't leave until 9," I nodded. I looked away from him and took my coffee from him.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, trying to get me to turn toward him, but I didn't.
"Have you ever thought about. . . us?" I asked slowly.
"I think about us all the time," he smirked, stepping closely behind me. "Especially when I'm lonely and can't sleep."
"That's not what I meant, Tyler," I said, my voice soft.
"What did you mean?" He asked.
I finally turned around, face-to-face with Tyler as I stuttered, "I meant about us being. . . an us."
"You mean like, not just sleeping together?"
"I'm tired of sneaking around," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired of sneakily hooking up. I'm tired of sneaking in and out of each other's motel rooms. I'm tired of secretly texting each other. I'm tired of only being together in secret. I want. . ."
I stopped talking and looked away from him. Tyler stepped even closer to me and gently used his finger to turn me toward him.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered, "and maybe I can give it to you."
"I want us to be more than just sleeping together," I confessed. "I want us to be an us. I want. . . I want you, Tyler. I know we rarely see each other. . ."
He smirked as he pulled me closer. "We run into each other all the time, baby. If we started dating for real, we would see each other more."
"What about our jobs?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Your fans think we hate each other."
"We could still act like we hate each other on camera," he shrugged. He paused before adding, "Or we don't have to act like it anymore."
"Wait, so you. . ."
"I want you, Y/N," he whispered. "I want this to be more than just secretly hooking up. I mean, I love hooking up with you, but I want more. I want to see you every day, text you to reassure you that I'm okay after a storm, call you when you're on location and I need to hear your voice. I want to buy you dinner. I want to scare away your crazy boy fans as you scare away my crazy girl fans. I want to be your biggest fan. I want you, Y/N."
I dropped my coffee and threw my arms around him, instantly connecting my lips to his. He dropped his coffee as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.
The kiss got rough as he led us across the motel room. We collapsed onto the bed with matching moans. Before we could get too into the kiss, someone cleared their throat.
We looked toward the door to see Boone smirking at us in the doorway. Tyler gently got off me and helped me to my feet. We fixed ourselves before turning toward Boone.
"What?" Tyler asked with no emotion.
"Sorry to interrupt," he chuckled, "but there's a storm nearby. Let's get to chasing."
As Boone walked away, Tyler turned back toward me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest.
"What do you think, gorgeous?" He asked. "I'll chase it and you report the weather pattern?"
"Sure," I said, my voice soft. I started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist.
"I know it was probably scary to tell me what you wanted," he whispered. "Especially since it wasn't what you wanted in bed. You've never had a hard time telling me that. But emotion? That's different. Before we go chasing, I need you to know that I want the same thing. I want you and me. No more hiding. No more lying. No more secrets."
I stood on my toes and delicately pressed my lips to his. This was one of the softest kisses we've ever shared. When we broke it, he leaned his forehead against mine.
Hiii, can I request Lloyd x fem!reader, where they are enemies to lovers ? I'm thinking something like they force to go to an undercover mission, and they have to pretend to be married. Eventually, Lloyd admits things like: “You’re killing me” or “It kills me that you’re with him and not with me” and “You really don’t see what you do to me?”. If you feel like it, add some spice in it 🥲
Thanks for your time 🧡
No More Pretending » Lloyd Hansen
Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader
Summary: You and Lloyd are done playing pretend when you two are on an undercover mission.
Warnings: implied Smut (18+), language, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, alcohol, dirty talk, kissing, pet names
A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.
Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.
“Let’s get this over with.” You say as you walked in the building with Lloyd.
You and Lloyd are on an undercover mission as a married couple. You and him can’t stand each other. You don’t know why you agreed to be his fake wife for the night. If it means getting through this mission successfully, then you’ll do it.
“You got something else better to do?” Lloyd asks sarcastically.
“Shut up and put your arm around my waist. Make it look believable.” You say.
Lloyd grabs ahold of your hand, holding it like a husband would hold his wife’s hand. You two gave people smiles as they looked over yours and Lloyd’s direction.
“Our target is at the bar.” Lloyd points out.
“Great.” You say.
You went to walk over to the bar, but Lloyd grabbed your arm before you could.
“What the hell do you think you’re about to do?” Lloyd asks in a hushed voice.
“To talk to the target.” You say.
“Nice try, sunshine. I’ll talk to him.” He says.
“What makes you think he’ll talk to you?” You asked. “He’ll most likely talk to me.” You say.
“What makes you say that?” He asks.
“Cause I know how to sweet talk people. Your first instinct is to beat the shit out of people to get the information you want.” You say.
You’re right and Lloyd knows it. He let go of your arm.
“That’s what I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of.” You say.
Lloyd watched you walk over to the bar where the target is.
“Whiskey, please.” You say to the bartender.
“Coming right up.” The bartender says.
The bartender gave you a glass of whiskey. You gave him a smile as a thank you. You casually looked at the target who was sitting in the chair next to you as you took a sip of your drink.
“So you’re a whiskey girl?” He asks.
“Yep.” You say, putting the glass on the bar counter.
The target motions for the bartender to get you and him a couple of drinks.
“So tell me, what’s a woman like you doing here by yourself?” He curiously asks.
You’re not about to blow your cover so you made something up that sounds believable.
“Me and my husband got into an argument earlier and I decided to come here to calm down.” You made up.
“That’s a shame. A woman like you shouldn’t be getting into fights with her husband.” He says.
“At least you understand me.” You say in a sultry tone.
Lloyd could hear the tone of your voice through the ear pieces you two have in your ears. He didn’t like it one bit.
“I was wondering…” You began, putting your hand on his arm. “If you’ll excuse could tell me something about a certain drive.” You say in a quiet voice.
The target looks around the room before moving closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. Jealousy was now coursing through Lloyd’s veins.
“You can’t tell anyone.” He says.
“You can count on me.” You say.
He whispered everything you need to know about the drive in your ear. Little did he know that he whispered the information in the ear that has the ear piece and Lloyd heard every word he said.
“That’s very interesting information.” You say like you’re interested.
“It is. Which is why you can’t tell anyone.” He says.
“You know I won’t.” You say softly.
You downed the rest of your drink.
“It kills me that you’re with him and not me.” Lloyd says in the ear piece.
You smirked to yourself when Lloyd said that. You gave the target a goodbye before leaving the bar. You went to the bathroom to freshen yourself up. As you were, Lloyd walks in the bathroom a couple minutes later.
“This is the women’s bathroom.” You say.
“I don’t fucking care.” Lloyd says.
Lloyd pushes you against the wall and kisses you, catching you by surprise. Your eyes went wide and you pushed him away.
“What the hell are you doing?!” You asked.
“You really don’t see what you do to me?” He asks.
“Do what?” You asked.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” He said. “The little seduction thing you have going on right now is a real turn on for me.” He says.
“Oh yea?” You asked. “What’re you going to do about it, husband?” You asked seductively.
“You don’t wanna know, wife.” He says.
You grabbed ahold of his tie, giving it a tug to pull him closer to you. You put your mouth by his ear.
“Why don’t you take me into one of these stalls and show me right now, Hansen.” You say softly and seductively in his ear.
A shiver went down Lloyd’s spine.
“You’re killing me.” Lloyd groans softly.
“Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about it all night, Lloyd.” You say.
You’re not wrong. Lloyd has been thinking about it all night and so have you. He couldn’t help but kiss you hungrily.
“You’re so fucking irresistible, sunshine.” Lloyd says against your lips.
“So are you.” You say.
Lloyd picks you up and takes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind him.
Rip Wheeler imagine based on the song “All I Need is You”
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The Yellowstone wind, a constant, biting presence, whipped strands of my hair across my face. I pulled the collar of my worn denim jacket tighter, the familiar scent of horse sweat and leather clinging to it, a comforting aroma in this unforgiving landscape. Another Montana sunset was bleeding across the sky, painting the jagged peaks in hues of fiery orange and deep violet. It was beautiful, awe-inspiring, but tonight, it felt lonely.
I was perched on the top rail of the corral, watching the horses mill about, their breath misting in the cool air. The ranch was quiet, most of the hands were already headed to the bunkhouse for supper. It was a peaceful scene, one I usually found solace in, but tonight, a restless unease gnawed at me.
Rip was out. I knew he was, of course. He didn't share his schedule with me, not exactly, but I always knew. When he was gone on some errand for John, some fence-mending mission, or… well, other things that required a darkness that clung to Rip like the dust on his boots.
We weren't…officially together. Not in the way folks in town might understand. There were no dates, no declarations of love echoing across the Montana plains. Our connection was something…deeper, something forged in shared hardship, loyalty, and a silent understanding that ran bone-deep. We were two souls who’d found a haven in each other amidst the chaos and brutality of the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch.
I’d arrived at the Yellowstone nearly five years ago, a broken thing, running from a past I wanted to bury. John Dutton, in his own gruff way, had offered me a chance, a purpose. And Rip… Rip had become my anchor.
He was a man of few words, a man sculpted from granite and grit. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, held a depth that both intrigued and intimidated me. He was fiercely protective, brutally honest, and possessed a loyalty to the Duttons that bordered on religious fervor. He was also, beneath that hardened exterior, capable of a tenderness that could knock the wind out of me.
And tonight, I missed him. Missed the quiet comfort of his presence, the way his hand instinctively found the small of my back when we walked together, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he managed a rare, genuine smile. I slid off the fence, the ache in my own soul mirroring the fatigue in my bones. I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness.
The bunkhouse was lively, the usual card game in full swing, laughter and friendly insults filling the air. I managed a smile for the boys, but the noise and the camaraderie felt hollow. I grabbed a beer from the communal fridge and headed back outside, seeking the solace of the vast, star-studded sky.
I found myself drawn to the creek, the sound of the rushing water a constant, soothing murmur. I sat on a smooth, flat rock, the cold seeping through my jeans, and took a long pull from the bottle.
That's when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a horse approaching, the rhythmic thud of hooves on the packed earth. My heart leaped. It had to be Rip.
He emerged from the trees, a silhouette against the fading light, riding a big, bay gelding. He dismounted, his movements fluid and economical, and the horse blew softly, nuzzling his shoulder.
He saw me then, his gaze locking onto mine. He didn't say anything, just walked towards me, his boots crunching on the gravel. The closer he got, the more I could see the weariness etched on his face, the shadows under his eyes. Whatever errand John had sent him on, it hadn’t been pleasant.
He stopped in front of me, his presence a wall of strength and quiet reassurance. He didn't reach out, didn't touch me, but the intensity of his gaze spoke volumes.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough, gravelly.
"Just...thinking," I replied, the word feeling inadequate.
He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He knew me better than I sometimes knew myself. He knew the weight I carried, the ghosts that still haunted me.
He knelt down beside me, picking up a small stone and tossing it into the creek. The silence stretched between us, comfortable and familiar. Finally, I broke it. "Rip?"
"Yeah?"
"I... I was listening to a song earlier," I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "On the radio. It just... it made me think of us."
He turned his head, his eyebrows slightly raised, an invitation for me to continue."It's called 'All I Need is You'," I explained, my voice barely a whisper. "And it's about… well, about how everything else can be falling apart, but as long as you have that one person, you can get through anything." I looked down at my hands, suddenly ashamed of my vulnerability. I wasn't good at expressing my feelings, especially not to Rip.
He was silent for a long moment, and I was sure I'd embarrassed myself, revealed too much. Then, he spoke, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. "Sing it for me," he said.
My head snapped up. "What?"
"Sing it," he repeated, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "If it's about us, I want to hear it."
My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn't sung in years, not since… well, since before I came to the Yellowstone. But something in his eyes, something vulnerable and raw, compelled me.
I cleared my throat, the sound rusty and unfamiliar. I took a deep breath and began to sing, my voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as I went on. "When that sun goes down at the end of the day, There's just one thing I can't lose, If you're by my side, I'm better than alright, Baby, all I need is, You in the morning, you in the night, You every day for the rest of my life, You and me together 'til the day I die, I'm all yours if you're all mine, Baby, you're all mine."
I sang the words, each one resonating with truth. I didn't need material possessions, didn't need the trappings of a perfect life. All I needed was right here, beside me. "Now, baby, look at you, You're my wildest dream, I could give it all up, And still have everything
When that sun goes down at the end of the day, There's just one thing I can't lose, If you're by my side, I'm better than alright, Baby, all I need is you."
I looked at Rip as I sang the chorus, my gaze locking with his. His eyes were intense, focused, as if he was trying to absorb every word, every nuance of my voice. "All I need is you, Baby, all I need is you, All I need is you.”
The last verse hung in the air, carried by the sound of the rushing creek and the whisper of the wind. I looked up at Rip, bracing myself for his reaction. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek.
His touch sent a jolt through me, a mixture of longing and tenderness that made my breath catch in my throat. "You mean that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. "Every word," I managed to choke out.
He leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. "You're all I need too, Y/N," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're the only damn thing that makes sense in this crazy world."
He closed the distance between us then, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both gentle and fierce, a silent promise of protection and devotion. The world seemed to fade away, the vastness of the Montana landscape shrinking down to just us, two souls intertwined beneath the starry sky.
When we finally broke apart, breathless and shaken, I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace I hadn't known was possible. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and we sat there in silence, listening to the creek, the wind, the beating of our hearts. The ranch was still, the bunkhouse quiet, the world outside the circle of Rip's arms seemed distant and unimportant.
In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter what darkness the Yellowstone might throw our way, we would face it together.
Because all I needed was him. And he, apparently, needed me. And in the harsh, unforgiving landscape of the Yellowstone, that was enough. That was everything.
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