#bar drinking

[misatokitten]

Me being too drunk at the bar

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Bar None

Kayce Dutton x reader story based on the song Jordan Davis “Bar None”. 

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The Montana sky outside the Yellowstone Saloon was a canvas of bruised purples and angry reds, a fitting backdrop for the storm brewing inside me. My name is Y/n, and tonight, like too many nights before, I was drowning in a glass of cheap bourbon. Each swallow burned, a familiar fire that promised to numb the ache but only seemed to amplify it. The clinks of ice against glass, the murmur of distant voices, the twang of a forgotten country song on the jukebox – it all blended into a dull roar, a soundtrack to my self-inflicted misery.

It had been months, though it felt like a lifetime, since Kayce Dutton’s tires had spun dust in my face. Not literally, of course. He wasn’t one for dramatic exits. Our goodbye had been a slow, agonizing bleed, a quiet surrender wrapped in the harsh realities of his world. I’d seen the toll the Yellowstone ranch took on him, the shadows in his eyes from his past as a SEAL, the constant fight for survival that gnawed at his soul. I’d seen how he was torn between his duty to his father and his desperate need for peace. I loved him, God, I still loved him with every fiber of my being, but I couldn’t stand by and watch him consume himself. And when I’d finally, achingly, told him I couldn’t do it anymore, he hadn’t fought to keep me. He just… let me go. That was the real sting. He just watched me walk away, perhaps believing it was for the best, for my own good, even if it shattered us both.

“Another one, Y/n?” Brenda, the bartender, asked, her voice laced with the kind of concern that only comes from witnessing too much heartbreak. She’d seen this show before. Too many times. 

“You know it,” I mumbled, pushing my empty glass forward. The amber liquid swirled, reflecting the dim light of the bar. If Kayce hadn’t been the kind you only find once – a man carved from granite and filled with a quiet, fierce loyalty, those intense blue eyes that saw right through me, that stubborn heart that pulsed with an unwavering sense of right and wrong – then the burn of this bourbon wouldn’t be hurting so bad. But he was. He is. He was for certain the best thing I ever had. And now, he was gone, and I felt goner than his long gone boots. 

I tried. God, I tried. I’d thrown myself into my work at the neighboring ranch, riding fences until my muscles screamed, mending tack until my fingers were raw. I’d gone on dates, forced smiles, attempted to make conversation with men who were perfectly decent but whose eyes held none of Kayce’s depth, whose smiles lacked his quiet strength, whose hands felt…foreign. Nothing I was working on worked on him, or rather, on getting over him. Every attempt to move on felt like a betrayal, a pointless exercise. I’d dated before Kayce, broken up, gotten over it. Never had a problem getting over anyone else. But Kayce? He was different. He was the anchor I didn't know I needed until he was gone, and now, I was adrift in a sea of emptiness.

My phone, lying face down beside my glass, vibrated. Probably a text from my sister, checking in. I ignored it. I was in a self-pitying bubble tonight, and I didn’t want it popped. I was breaking every bottle open, metaphorically and almost literally, doing what a banged up, broken heart does. I was self-destructing, slowly, painfully, and I knew it. And still, I ordered another. Three or four more. Maybe then the sting would finally subside. Maybe then I could trick myself into believing I was moving on.

But the scoreboard in my head was brutally honest. If moving on had a scoreboard, it’d say, “You and your memory, one. Me and this bar, none.”

The image of him, mounted on Hagrid, dusty and strong, silhouetted against the wide-open Montana sky, flashed in my mind. The way he’d look at me, a silent question in his eyes that only I seemed to understand. His calloused hand, so gentle when it held mine. The way he’d patiently teach me how to mend a fence post or calm a spooked horse. He was a man of few words, but every word, every gesture, carried weight. And the weight of his absence was crushing me. 

I remembered the time I’d fallen off a horse during a cattle drive, twisting my ankle badly. He’d been there in an instant, his face etched with worry, his strong arms Scooping me up like I weighed nothing. He carried me all the way back to the bunkhouse, ignoring the jests from Lloyd and Rip, his focus entirely on me. He’d sat with me for hours, applying ice, telling me stories about Tate, about the ranch, just talking until the pain dulled. He was my protector, my quiet strength, my safe harbor. And I, in my own weakness, had sailed away.

Was he hurting too? Or had he simply patched himself up and moved on, as Duttons often did, with stoic resilience? The thought twisted in my gut. Monica was separated from him now, I knew that much from the gossip that traveled faster than wildfire through these parts. She had always been an extension of his past, a bond forged in a different kind of fire. But with her gone, did that erase me too? Or did it just clear the path for him to finally find the peace he deserved, far away from my own complicated heart? The lowest low I ever had was right now, no doubt, hands down.

The swing door creaked open, letting in a blast of the crisp night air, momentarily clearing the haze of whiskey from my mind. I didn’t look up, just took another sip, bracing myself for the fresh wave of emptiness. Until a shadow fell over my stool, blocking out the light from the bar. A familiar scent—horse, leather, and something uniquely Kayce—hit me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. No. It couldn’t be.

Slowly, reluctantly, I raised my head. And there he was. Kayce Dutton. He stood there, boots planted wide, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, a worn denim jacket over a plaid shirt. His face was etched with fatigue, lines of worry creasing his brow, but his eyes, those startling blue eyes, met mine. They were full of a raw, almost desperate tenderness that stole my breath.

“Y/n?” His voice was a low rumble, rough around the edges, sending shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t speak. The bourbon, the sorrow, the sheer impossibility of him standing right there, threatened to overwhelm me. My carefully constructed wall of indifference crumbled to dust.

“Brenda said you were here,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “Said you’ve been here a lot.” His eyes flickered to my empty glass, then the fresh one in front of me. A flicker of pain crossed his face.

“What do you want, Kayce?” My voice was thin, reedy, barely a whisper. I hated the tremor in it. I hated my vulnerability.

He pulled up the stool next to mine, a silent request. Brenda, ever perceptive, had already moved away, giving us space. “I came to talk.”

“Talk?” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Now you want to talk? After all this time? After I’ve been breaking every bottle open, doing what a banged up, broken heart does?” The words spilled out, laced with all the hurt I’d been holding in. “If moving on had a scoreboard, it’d say, ‘You and your memory, one. Me and this bar, none.’ That’s what it says, Kayce.”

He flinched, a subtle tightening around his eyes. “I know,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I know what it says. But it’s wrong.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “Wrong? You let me walk away. You didn’t fight for me. What’s wrong about that?”

He sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I wasn’t fighting for myself back then, Y/n. I was drowning. The ranch, the family, the ghosts from my past… Monica and I, we were barely holding it together, playing a part for Tate. It felt like every decision I made was wrong, every move I made was for someone else. I saw the toll it was taking on you, watching me pull apart at the seams. And I thought… I thought letting you go was the only way to save you. To give you a chance at a normal life, a happy life, one not steeped in the Dutton chaos.”

“And you thought I wanted a normal life without you in it?” I countered, my eyes burning. “Did you ever think for a second that my ‘normal’ was with you, chaos and all? That I wanted to be there, to fight alongside you, not to be ‘saved’ from you?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the bar, his gaze locked with mine. “I thought I was poison, Y/n. That everything I touched turned to ash. I was trying to outrun my own demons, putting 90 to the test, but damn, I still didn’t miss you less. I missed you every damn day. Every sunrise, every sunset, every quiet moment on a horse, your face was there. Your laugh. The way you’d always know what I was thinking without me saying a word.” He paused, a raw vulnerability in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Monica and I… it’s truly over. We both finally admitted it wasn’t fair to any of us, especially Tate, to live a lie. And with that… that weight lifted, I started to see things clearer. I started working on myself, really working, not just burying it. I realized letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made. Because saving you meant losing myself.”

My breath hitched. The words were simple, unadorned, but they hit me with the force of a physical blow. This wasn’t the stoic, distant Kayce I’d come to expect. This was a man stripped bare, admitting his deepest regrets.

“I’ve been watching you,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “From a distance. Saw your truck around. Heard you were working hard. Heard you were… hurting. It killed me, Y/n. Knowing I put that pain in your eyes.” He reached across the bar, his hand covering mine. His touch was electric, a jolt of life through my numb fingers. “I was a fool. I thought I had to be fixed before I could be with you. But you… you were never the problem. You were the only thing that made sense.”

“Then why didn’t you come sooner?” I whispered, the tears finally starting to fall, hot tracks down my cheeks.

“Fear,” he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. “Fear you’d found someone else. Fear you’d moved on. Fear that I’d just hurt you again. But seeing you like this… seeing you here, hurting… I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to try. One last time.” He squeezed my hand gently. “I’m not fixed, Y/n. Not completely. I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’m trying. And I want to try with you, by my side. If you’d have me.”

The scoreboard. My memory, one. Me and this bar, none. But looking at Kayce, seeing the genuine remorse and raw hope in his eyes, I felt a shift. A tremor in the foundation of that crushing score.

“Kayce,” I choked out, a sob catching in my throat. “I… I never stopped loving you.”

A ghost of a smile, a rare, breathtaking sight, touched his lips. He pulled his hand away, only to cup my face, his thumb gently wiping away my tears. “I know. I felt it. I felt you out there, even when I was too damn stubborn to come after you. And I never stopped loving you either, Y/n L/n. Not for a single second.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, soft and hesitant, then firm, desperate. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, not yet. It was a kiss of relief, of redemption, of two broken souls finding their way back to each other in the dim light of a Montana bar.

We talked for hours after that, the bourbon forgotten. He spoke of his struggles with his past, his sessions with a therapist, his renewed commitment to Tate, but also his growing understanding of what he truly wanted for himself. He admitted that letting Monica go, while painful, had been necessary for him to finally confront his own issues and realize that he couldn't hide from happiness, or from me, any longer. He wanted a real future, not just survival. He wanted us.

I told him about my own despair, the nights I’d cried myself to sleep, the mornings I’d woken up with that heavy ache in my chest. I told him how I tried to outrun him, outrun the memories, but they always caught up. And how, despite all the pain, no one else had ever remotely compared.

When Brenda finally called last call, the bar was almost empty. Kayce stood up, reaching for my hand. “Come on,” he said, his eyes alight with a gentle warmth I hadn’t seen in ages. “Let’s go home.”

“Which one?” I asked, a tiny smile playing on my lips.

He squeezed my hand. “Wherever you are, Y/n. That’s home.”

We walked out into the cool Montana night, the stars a dazzling canopy above us, the air crisp and clean. He didn’t take me back to the Yellowstone ranch, not yet. He drove me to my small cabin, a place I’d sought refuge in, but which had felt empty for so long. He built a fire in the hearth, the flickering flames chasing away the shadows. We just sat there, side by side on the worn couch, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder. The silence was no longer heavy with unspoken grief but light with unspoken promises.

The next morning, the sunrise painted the mountains in hues of gold and rose, a stark contrast to the bruised sky of the night before. I woke in Kayce’s arms, feeling lighter than I had in months, maybe years. The ache in my chest was still there, a phantom limb of my past pain, but it was fading, replaced by a burgeoning hope.

We had a long road ahead of us. Healing wasn’t instantaneous. Trust, once broken, takes time to rebuild. But as I watched him make coffee in my small kitchen, his movements familiar and comforting, I knew we would face it together. The scoreboard had changed. It wasn’t about him winning and me losing. It was about us, together. A team.

Me and this bar, none. But Y/n and Kayce, one. Finally. And this time, for certain, it felt like forever.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

44 - Getting Into All Kinds of Trouble

Part 45

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Caroline climbed up into the backseat of Travis’s truck while he waited for me to get in the vehicle and stop talking to my boyfriend. Cooper and I embraced the other in a hug and when we broke I shifted his ball cap up more so that it wasn’t covering his face. “You call me before you go off to work okay.”

“I will , don’t you worry.” He reassured me with a gentle smile on his face.

Travis tapped his watch on his wrist getting our attention. “Time is ticking. Don’t make me come over there and separate you two.”

“I’m coming. I’ll see you later.” I kissed my boyfriend softly running over to the truck and we made our way back to the dorm building of the college. Sitting in the front seat of the truck there was heavy silence between the three of us so I decided how was a good time to call my parents and explain what happened now that Travis had called the police and called off the missing person case. Dialing my mom’s phone number I put it up to my ear. “Hey mom, I’m sorry I didn’t call you the other night-“

“Where the hell were you? You’ve been scaring the shit out of me and your daddy for days now!”

I began explaining it to her. “Mom, listen here's the deal. Cooper and I were out late with his daddy. We came back to the mancamp that he lives at. I didn't realize it until earlier that my phone had died and I just now charged it this morning.”

“Faith, you're not allowed to not have your phone charged every time you leave your dorm. We are hours away from you so if something bad happens to you we won’t be there to help.”

Nodding my head even though she couldn’t see me I responded back to her. “I’m sorry, mom. Really I am sorry about this happening. I’ll try to do better, be better about this.”

“You better do better, Faith. Your father was seconds away from getting into his truck and tearing the roads up to hell to come looking for you after Travis has told us that a missing person report was put out into the state of Texas.”

Running my freehand down my face I sighed thinking before I said another thing back to her. “I promise I’ll do better next time.”

“Okay, I have to go help your grandpa John. But remember I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.” I hit the end call button on my phone putting it away silently staring out the truck window recalling the night before.

Since spending most of my time in the Bunkhouse on my family's ranch I assumed I would be comfortable in the bar scene but you'd be wrong. It's much more crowded and loud than I expected along with everyone nearby trying to hit on me even though I walked into the bar with Cooper and his father Tommy right in front of us.

The three of us found a table with me and my boyfriend sitting on the same side of the table leaving his dad sitting on the other side by himself. You could feel the tenseness between father and son.

A woman with curly red hair came over to our table with menus. “What can I get y'all to drink?”

“Let’s just have a pitcher of beer for the table.” Tommy responded by handing her back the menu.

A few hours later I think we had finished about two full pitchers where I was beginning to feel a little dizzy in my head. Tommy leaned forward gesturing with his hand to come forward and I do as he told me. “So what don't I know about you, Faith Dutton. What should I know about your family hmm?”

“We fight for the land we got from our family. What - specifically - can you know.” I slurred my words bringing my drink glass to my lips.

Tommy glared at me, searching my face for something I couldn’t quite figure out what for though. “Do I need to worry about your family hurting mine? If you get into trouble will the bad people wanting your land come for my family?”

“That - ain’t what - you want to ask me.” I giggled about to take another drink from my glass realizing it was empty. Cooper noticed me reaching over and taking it from me, somehow not as tipsy as I apparently was.

“I think it’s time we go home.”

I swatted his hand that reached out for me. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Come on, Faith.” Cooper responded.

I stumbled up to stand on my two feet but tumbled forward not having good enough balance. Falling forward I laughed luckily Cooper stopped me up in his arms glaring at his father. “That’s enough drinks for her, dad.”

“Cooper, I just wanted her to have fun.” He attempted to defend himself but his son wasn't having it.

“Enough, dad. Pay the tab and then we're out of here.”

Tommy Norris watched the pair exit the bar and he felt slightly bad that he got the young adult drunk. But it proved the question be and his daughter had about her, ‘waa this thing just a fling?’

The relationship she had with the young Norris boy waa much more than that.

Laying my head against his chest Cooper carried me outside to the truck bridal style. He had me lean against his body keeping one arm around my waist, opening the passenger door with his freehand.

“Thanks for carrying me.” I muttered into his shoulder before he lifted me up in his arms again, sitting me down in the backseat about to close the door. “Cuddle back here - with me.”

He didn't fight me and simply climbed in beside me shutting the door seeing his father come out of the bsr door. “Get some sleep, cowgirl.” Cooper draped his arm over my shoulder bringing me closer into his side.

Miller Country Club

Tommy, Ainsley and his ex wife Angela had decided to take a trip to his bosses country club to grab some breakfast after picking her up from the airport. Ainsley held up her phone to her mother showing her pictures she had taken in the hopes of making her ex boyfriend want her back. Her mother took the phone flipping through the pictures with a disappointment look on her face before giving the young teenager advice. “Oh, these are all selfies, honey. If you really want to make him jealous, you need someone else to take 'em. Then, he has two things to worry about, your body and who the hell is taking the photos.”

“Well, what about this one?” Ainsley weakly smiled hoping she'd like it.

Her mother smiled teasingly. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Did you?” The 17 year old asked.

“I'm wearing it.” Her mother smirked seeing her ex husband roll his eyes.

Ainsley grabbed her bag heading to find a bathroom leaving the pair to talk alone. “Okay. I'm gonna go change.”

“It's such a mystery to me why our marriage didn't work out.” Tommy snickers to his ex who finished off her drink, removing the cover-up now showing off her bathing suit to everyone around them in the club.

She smirked down at him seeing his judgemental eyes. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“No, you're embarrassing yourself.” Tommy shook his head at his ex wife, already regretting her being here. “But think of all the great life

lessons you're teaching our daughter.”

Angela noticed her daughter had left her phone on the table and unlocked leaving hee free to snoop through her photos. She scrolled shortly finding a picture that didn't have her daughter in it but another girl. “Who the hell is this strange girl on our daughter's phone? I know that I can't be one of her school friends so tell me, Tommy.”

“She’s Cooper's girlfriend. Ainsley and I have been looking into her to see if she would convince him to go back to college rather than work the patch.”

Angela sat down covering her face with her hand. “Another Norris in the oil patch. What a waste - when can I meet this girl?”

“I don't know, Angie. Uh - hold on. Yeah who is this?” Tommy got up from the table walking away to take his call.

He recognized his son's voice through the other side of the phone. “It's Cooper. Now I don't know what you and my sister are trying to do or find out about Faith but it stops right now. I care about her and don’t want you or my sister messing up what we have.”

“Cooper-”

He cut his father off, ending the phone call. “Just do what I told you alright, dad.” Tommy stared down at his phone in utter shock seeing the call signal had ended as quickly as it had come in.

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[samiajessieahmed-blog]

Sayonara

I’m at a bar with a band

Is this the epicentre?

I’ve never been to L.A

Is this IT?

Corruption is key

If you wear the veil

Of an honest face

Lest- you are the rock star

Humming

relentless records

It’s never too late to be a person of substance

It’s cooler to sit at home these days

You’re the mysterious recluse

I suppose I’ll see you

On the long road

To the middle