cowboy au sfw short drabble short ow ref romcom confession scene tooth rotting fluff jason todd has a southern accent fem reader jason todd as your favorite cowboy 8.9k words part one
a/n: next post is a nanami x reader soft angst-fluff fic !
The Texas heat had spent the entire afternoon baking the earth, leaving the scent of dry cedar, sweet alfalfa, and hot leather thick in the air. As the sun began its slow descent, bleeding a bruised purple and gold across the wide horizon, the aggressive humidity of the day finally gave way to a cooling evening breeze.
The only sounds for miles were the rhythmic, heavy thud-thud of Caesarâs hooves against the dirt trail, the occasional, low jingle of the bridle, and the steady, synchronized sound of your breathing as you were seated right in front of Jason, tucked securely between his long thighs on the massive Western saddle.
It was supposed to be a serious training sessionâhis final run-through before the rodeoâs big finale match next weekâbut the moment he had lifted you up onto the gelding, all thoughts of his own technique seemed to vanish.
Instead, he had spent the last two hours teaching you how to hold the reins, how to shift your weight, and how to find a rhythm with the horse⊠or rather, that was his excuse to keep you as close as humanly possible.
Every time Caesar shifted or picked up speed, you took it as the perfect excuse to lean back against Jasonâs broad chest, letting your spine melt into his solid frame as you wrapped your hands firmly around his biceps.
They were massive, stretching the fabric of his faded flannel shirt, rock-hard and radiating a comforting, steady heat. Slowly, deliberately, you slid your palms up and down the curve of his arms, feeling the thick muscle bunch beneath your touch as you squeezed them just a little tighter than necessary, a quiet, playful challenge, and let a small, knowing smile tug at the corners of your lips.
Above your head, you heard the deep, rumbling vibration of his chest before you actually heard his voice. âNow, sweetheart,â Jason murmured, his thick, slow Southern drawl dragging over the words like molasses. âI highly doubt youâre loosinâ your balance on a straight, flat trail.â
You didnât let go, instead, you tilted your head back, looking up at him, your smile widening into something distinctly mischievous.
From this angle, you could see the sharp, rugged line of his jawline, dusted with a dark shadow of stubble, and the way the dying sunlight caught the stark, silver-grey patch of hair right at his fringe. He looked intimidatingâa mountain of a man built for rough riding and hard workâbut the look in his blue eyes was entirely soft, completely captivated by you.
âOh, youâd be surprised, cowboy,â you cooed, your voice a playful purr. You nudged your shoulder back against his chest, holding his gaze. âThis trail is treacherous. A girlâs got to hold onto something sturdy.â
Jason cleared his throat, a sudden flash of heat darkening his tanned cheeks as he looked down at your hands wrapped around his arms, then met your teasing eyes. He knew exactly what you were doing. He wasnât dense, but the sheer and heavy weight of the puppy-love crush heâd been harboring for months made his heart hammer a frantic, erratic rhythm against his ribs.
âYouâre sâposed to be focusinâ on the reins, not usinâ me as a safety blanket,â he teased softly, though he didnât make a single move to pull away. In fact, he subtly flexed, his massive biceps shifting beneath your palms, giving you an even better grip.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your eyes crinkling at the corners. âMaybe I like my safety blanket, itâs warm and it has a very nice heartbeat.â
A low huff of laughter escaped his nose, blowing a warm gust of air past your ear that made you shiver. âYeah, yeah. Loud and clear, sweetheart⊠but if you keep squeezinâ me like that, Iâm gonna forget how to steer this animal entirely. Youâre distractinâ the teacher.â
âAm I?â You tilted your chin up just a fraction more, your lips parting as your smile turned soft, intimate, and devastatingly flirtatious. âGood. That was the plan.â
The tension between you grew thick, heavy, and undeniably warm, lingering in the small space separating your faces. Jasonâs gaze flicked down to your lips for a split second before he looked back to the trail, his hands tightening on the leather to guide Caesar to a gentle halt under the shade of a sprawling oak tree.
The horse let out a long, shedding sigh, the scent of dust and animal sweat kicking up around you, sealing the two of you in your own private world.
Slowly, carefully, Jason brought his hands forward to adjust your grip on the leather reins. But as his hands hovered over yours, he hesitated as his fingers twitched, hovering just an inch above your skin.
You looked down at his hands. They were huge, scarred, and incredibly ruggedâthe hands of a man who worked himself to the bone as the skin across his palms and knuckles was thick and severely calloused, rough enough to snag on silk.
You could see the slight tremor in his fingers, a silent testament to the fear that always gripped him in these moments: the terrifying thought that his rough, violent world might accidentally bruise something as soft and precious as you.
âJay,â you whispered, your voice dropping to a soft, tender note that cut straight through the quiet evening air as you turned your hands over in your lap, palms up, waiting for him. âItâs okay.â
He swallowed hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing. âI donât⊠I donât wanna scrape you up, darlinâ,â he admitted, his accent thick and heavy with a sudden, raw vulnerability that made your heart ache. âHands are like sandpaper. Ainât meant for touchinâ somethinâ so gentle.â
You smiled up at him again, a soft, reassuring expression full of affection as you reached up, gently brushing the tip of your finger against his stubbled jawline, tracing it down to his chin. âI like it when you touch me anyway, Jay. Plus, I love your hands.â
With a shaky, hesitant breath, Jason finally let his palms settle over yours as the contrast was immediateâhis skin was hot, rough, and violently unyielding against yours. But his touch was unbelievably light, as if he were handling something priceless.
He slid his fingers between yours, lacing them together, guiding your hands back to the leather reins while his chest pressed flush against your back as his heartbeat was a frantic thumping you could feel right through your spine.
He leaned down, his face burying into the crook of your neck. His lips brushed dangerously close to your sensitive skin as he spoke, his voice dropping an octave into a gravelly, heated whisper that sent a delicious shiver straight down your column.
âYouâre playinâ a dangerous game with me, you know that?â he breathed, his lips skimming your skin with every syllable.
The tension between you snapped taut, electric and heavy with unspoken desires. âIâm sâposed to be the teacher here. But youâre the one makinâ me forget every single rule I ever learned. If you keep lookinâ at me like that, we ainât never makinâ it back to the barn.â
You leaned your head back against his shoulder, a soft, triumphant smile on your face as you whispered back, âThen letâs stay out here a little longer.â
The canopy of the woods swallowed the last rays of the dying sun, plunging the trail into a cool, shadowed twilight. The air out here was differentâcrisper, smelling faintly of damp earth, pine needles, and the sweet, lingering musk of horse sweat as Caesarâs hooves made a soft, muffled crunch-crunch against the blanket of fallen leaves, a rhythmic backdrop to the sudden, heavy silence that had settled between the two of you.
But while the woods were cooling down, the space between you and Jason was practically boiling. The playful confidence from earlier hadnât dissolved; if anything, the shadows of the evening gave you a sudden burst of boldness as you shifted slightly, your hips pressing flush against his lap, and let out a soft, pleased sigh.
Every rise and fall of his chest pressed directly into your back, and the sheer heat radiating off him was enough to make your cheeks burn in the dim light, but you didnât shrink away. Instead, you tilted your head back, letting your hair brush against his collarbone, and smiled up at him with pure, unadulterated mischief.
Jason wasnât doing any better, for a man who could stare down a charging bull without blinking, he was suddenly wound tighter than a guitar string. Usually, the city girls who came around the rodeo or the ranch were polite, a little detached, or too timid to do much more than ask for a picture.
They certainly werenât turning around in his saddle, flashing him wicked little grins that made his head spin as he cleared his throat, the sound of a low, raspy rattle in the quiet woods, and shifted his weight.
His face was burning a deep, dark crimson that even the twilight couldnât hide, âJust⊠wanna make sure youâre secure up here,â he mumbled, his thick Southern drawl dropping an octave, laced with a nervous, boyish hesitance that completely contrasted his massive frame. âTrailâs gettinâ a mite uneven, sweetheart.â
âOh, is it?â you asked, your voice a silky purr. You leaned back just a fraction more, feeling the hard line of his chest. âI hadnât noticed. I felt perfectly safe. Though, maybe you should hold onto me a little tighter⊠just in case.â
Jason let out a shaky breath, completely flustered. Slowly, almost tentatively, he brought his right arm around your waist. His bicep was massive, a solid bar of pure muscle that pressed firmly across your lower abdomen.
The sheer weight of it was anchoring, trapping you against him, but he held you with an absurd amount of caution. He was paranoidâterrified that a sudden jolt from Caesar would send you slipping from the saddle, but even more terrified of how good it felt to have you right there as you placed your smaller hands over his massive forearm, your fingers tracing the thick veins that mapped his skin. âSee? Perfect fit,â you whispered, looking back up at him over your shoulder.
His heart was hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against your shoulder blade, revealing the truth his tough cowboy exterior tried to hide: he was completely, utterly captivated, and entirely at your mercy.
He bit his lower lip, a nervous, shy smile tugging at his mouth as his blue eyes flicked down to your hands, then up to your eyes, utterly overwhelmed by the electric current humming between your skin and by the time the trail opened up to a small, secluded clearing, the tension had reached a delicious boiling point.
Jason guided Caesar to a halt near a massive, fallen oak log, seemingly eager for an excuse to get his feet back on solid ground before he completely lost his mind.
âLetâs, uh⊠letâs give the big guy a rest,â Jason murmured, his voice a little breathless as he dismounted as he reached up, his rough hands catching you by the waist to lift you down.
Instead of letting him set you straight on the ground, you lingered, keeping your hands resting on his broad shoulders as your faces were inches apart. You flashed him a slow, dazzling smile, your eyes locked onto his.
Even through your clothes, the heat of his palms seemed to scar, and he set you down so gently it was as if you were made of the finest porcelain. âThank you, cowboy,â you murmured, your lips brushing dangerously close to his jawline as you spoke.
Jason practically choked on his own breath, a dark flush spreading from his collar all the way to the tips of his ears. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat again as he turned to tie Caesarâs reins to a sturdy pine branch.
You watched him, thoroughly enjoying how much power you had over this giant of a man. He was so sweet, so fundamentally respectful, that your boldness was knocking him completely off balanceâand he was clearly loving every single second of it as Jason sat down on the thick log, the bark groaning slightly under his immense weight. He leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees, trying to regain his composure.
The silver-grey patch at his fringe caught the soft moonlight filtering through the trees as he looked up at you, his blue eyes dark and pooling with an affection so heavy it made your breath hitch.
Without a word, you walked over and claimed the space right next to him, but you didnât just sit as you swung your legs up, draping your calves comfortably across his thick, denim-clad thighs, deliberately claiming his space.
Jasonâs entire body went rigid for a fraction of a second, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes went wide, staring at your legs over his lap like he couldnât believe your audacity.
Then, a soft, helpless, incredibly shy smile broke through his rugged stubble as he shook his head, looking down at his boots, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his chest.
âYou are somethinâ else, you know that?â he whispered, his voice thick with a sweet, flustered awe. âMost girls from the city⊠theyâre careful around a guy like me. Afraid of the dirt... afraid of⊠well, this.â
âThen theyâre missing out,â you said softly as you leaned in close, wrapping both of your arms securely around one of his massive biceps, pulling it against your chest. You rested your cheek right against the hard curve of his muscle, feeling the scratchy, warm flannel of his shirt against your skin.
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your smile turning soft and incredibly intimate. âI like âthis.â I like it a lot.â
âYouâre gonna spoil me, actinâ like this,â Jason teased softly, his voice trembling just a fraction as he looked down at you as he tentatively rested one of his massive hands on your ankle, his thumb making small, hesitant circles over your jeans. The sheer adoration in his eyes was dizzying.
âJust tell me about the ranch, cowboy,â you whispered, tightening your grip on his arm, nudging your shoulder into his side.
He swallowed hard, looking out toward where Caesar was softly snorting and stamping his hoof in the grass, trying to anchor himself. Slowly, the nervous tension began to melt out of his frame, replaced by a quiet, passionate warmth as he started to speak about the thing he loved most.
âWell,â he began, his thick accent wrapping around the words like a warm blanket. âMy granddaddy started the place with just three mares and an old, broken-down barn.â
âTook years to break the soil, to make it somethinâ worth keepinâ. But thereâs a ridge right on the western edge of the property⊠if you stand there at dawn, the whole valley just opens up. Looks like God spilled gold all over the earth.â
You smiled, closing your eyes and just listening to the rumble of his voice vibrating through his bicep against your cheek as the scent of pine and his distinct aroma of leather, cedar, and tobacco swirled around you, intoxicating and comforting all at once.
âAnd the horses?â you asked softly, nudging your nose playfully against his arm, leaving a soft kiss against the flannel.
A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through him, and you felt his grip on your ankle tighten just a bit, growing braver. âTheyâre a handful. Caesar there, heâs a sweetheart, but heâs stubborn as the day is long.â
âGot a little paint mare named Sarah Kate, too. Sheâs spirited, rebellious, and reminds me a bit ofâŠâ He trailed off, his voice dropping into a husky whisper.
You opened your eyes and looked up. Jason was staring down at you, his rugged face entirely soft, the shyness returning tenfold but overridden by a deep, simmering heat.
His handsâthose huge, heavily calloused handsâwere resting on his own knees, his fingers twitching as if he desperately wanted to reach out and stroke your hair, but was still too scared of his own rough skin as the silence hung between you, thick, heated, and heavy with everything he wasnât saying.
The cool night air brushed against your skin, but between the two of you, the heat was suffocating in the best possible way.
âReminds you of who?â you prompted, your voice barely a breath. You slid your hand up his arm, your fingers brushing the warm skin of his neck, your thumb lightly tracing his jaw.
You gave him a slow, encouraging smile. âSay it, Jay.â
Jasonâs blue eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his chest expanding deeply against your side as he finally stopped fighting the pull.
âReminds me of you, darlinâ,â he breathed, his voice dropping to a raw, gravelly timber that sent a shiver straight down your spine. âBeautiful, stubborn, and keepinâ me on my toes so bad I can barely think straight. I swear, youâre gonna be the ruin of me.â
The cool night air seemed to still around the clearing, the gentle whinny of Caesar tethered nearby breaking the quiet of the woods as Jasonâs gaze lingered on you, the soft moonlight catching the sharp lines of his jaw and casting a silvery glow over the grey patch at his fringe.
The heavy, sweet scent of crushed pine needles beneath your boots and the earthy aroma of leather hung thick in the air, wrapping around the two of you like a velvet blanket as Jason shifted slightly beneath you, the dense muscle of his thigh flexing under your legs as his expression turned a fraction more serious.
He cleared his throat, a low, gravelly sound that vibrated right through his chest and echoed against your own ribs. âThat finale match⊠itâs only a few days off now,â he murmured, his thick Southern drawl dropping into a quieter, almost vulnerable register.
He looked down at his huge, calloused hands resting on his lap, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. âFellas from three counties over are cominâ in. Itâs gonna be a hell of a fight to stay on that saddle. Sometimes I wonder ifâŠâ
Before he could even finish the thought, you slid your legs off his lap and leaned in closer, cutting off his doubt before it could take root as you reached down and boldly grabbed both of his massive, rugged hands.
His fingers twitched in shock at the sudden contact, the rough, sandpapery texture of his severe callouses scraping against your smooth skin, but you didnât let go. Instead, you lifted his heavy hands and used them to mock-clap together in an enthusiastic, early celebration, flashing him a bright, dazzling smile.
âStop right there, cowboy,â you said, your voice full of playful, teasing energy as you hyped him up. âYouâre the best rider in this whole damn state and you know it⊠there isnât a bull or a bronc born that can throw you off.â
âYouâve already won it, so stop doubting yourself!â
A slow, breathless grin began to crack through his stubble, his blue eyes darkening with a sudden, intense warmth. The sheer puppy-love adoration he had for you flared up, making his chest expand heavily under his flannel shirt as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a delicious shiver right down your spine.
âIs that right?â he teased, his voice dropping into a husky, playful rumble. He squeezed your hands back just a fraction, incredibly mindful of his own strength, though his grip was solid and grounding. âYou got that much faith in me, sweetheart? Well now, that begs the question⊠what exactly do I get if I win that match?â
You let go of his hands and hummed softly, tapping a finger against your chin as you faux-thought about it, letting the silence stretch out between you as the lingering, heated tension in the air grew so thick you could practically taste it. Slowly, deliberately, you tilted your head up to look him dead in the eyes, a smug grin playing on your lips.
You slid your arms up his chest, feeling the rock-hard definition beneath the fabric, and wrapped them securely around his thick neck, pulling yourself close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
âIf you winâŠâ you whispered, leaning in until your lips were fractions of an inch from his, your breath fanning across his mouth. âIâm going to give you a kiss.â
Jasonâs entire body went dead rigid beneath you. His breath hitched sharply in his throat, his eyes widening for a split second before burning with a sudden, fierce heat as his massive biceps flexed against your sides as he fought the overwhelming urge to pull you flush against him.
He swallowed hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he stared at your mouth, completely caught off guard by your boldness.
âNow, donât you go playinâ with a manâs heart like that,â he breathed, his thick accent wrapping heavily around the words. He leaned a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a gravelly, demanding whisper.
â... On the lips or the cheek?â
You offered him a teasing smile, tightening your arms around his neck just enough to drive him crazy. âThatâs a secret until you actually win.â
A loud, breathy scoff escaped his nose, and the tense, electric spell broke into a warm, genuine laugh as Jason raised one of his massive hands, the rough callouses gently scratching against your scalp as he affectionately ruffled your hair, messing up your strands.
âYouâre a mischievous little thing, you know that?â he chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up from the log first. He towered over you in the moonlight, a mountain of a man, looking every bit the rugged cowboy as you laughed, standing up after him, smoothing down your hair with a self-satisfied grin.
You felt entirely in control, thoroughly enjoying how flustered and sweet he was. But before your boots could fully grip the dirt, Jason stepped directly into your space as the sudden shift in his energy made your breath catch.
The shy, boyish hesitation vanished, replaced by the sheer, unyielding confidence of a man who handled wild animals for a living as he reached out and caught you by the waist. His huge hands completely engulfed your sides, the heat of his palms burning through your clothes as he effortlessly lifted you into the air. He didnât just set you down, though.
He held you suspended for a heartbeat, his face level with yours, his blue eyes locked onto your lips with a sudden, intense hunger that made your stomach flip. âYou like games, darlinâ?â he murmured, his voice incredibly low, a dark, gravelly vibration that resonated right in your chest.
He slid his hands slightly higher up your ribs, his thumbs tracing the underside of your breasts through your shirt. âBecause if weâre talkinâ about secrets... Iâve got a few ideas about what I'm gonna do with that prize when I collect it. And I donât think youâre ready for âem.â
Your heart hammered violently against your ribs, a sudden wave of heat rushing to your face as the tables had turned so fast your head spun. Your confident smile faltered, replaced by a wide-eyed, breathless gasp as your own heart raced.
You became acutely aware of how easily he lifted you, how small you were in his grip, and how utterly devastating he was when he stopped being shy. âJay! Heyâ youâre playing dirty now!â you stammered, your voice losing all of its previous swagger, completely flustered by the raw promise in his eyes as he let out a low, deeply satisfied chuckle at your reaction, thoroughly enjoying the fact that he had turned the tables on you.
He hoisted you up onto Caesarâs back, but instead of putting you in the front, he set you down right behind the saddle. âBetter get your favorite lipstick ready then, sweetheart, âcause I sure as hell ainât losinâ now,â he whispered, leaning close to press a brief, burning kiss right to the sensitive skin just below your ear.
âThat prize is mine.â
Your breath hitched completely, your skin tingling where his lips had grazed you as you sat there, utterly dazed and blushing furiously in the dark, watching as Jason swung his long leg over the gelding, settling into the leather seat in front of you.
This time, he was the shield, and you were at his back.
âHold on tight now,â he murmured, turning his head just enough to flash you a devastating, crooked grin over his shoulder. âDonât want you slippinâ off. Unless you want another excuse to grab onto me.â
You bit your lip, still flustered but unable to hide the helpless, captivated smile stretching across your face. You didnât need to be told twice as you leaned forward, pressing your chest flat against his broad, muscular back, and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, hiding your burning face against his shoulder blade.
As your hands slid across his midsection, you could feel the rigid, iron-hard contour of his abs shifting beneath his shirt with every move he made as a deep, contented purr of a rumble vibrated through his spine and into your chest as Caesar started a slow, steady walk back through the dark woods, the lingering heat of your promiseâand his sudden, breathtaking boldnessâkeeping the both of you burning hot against the night chill.
The following days passed in a blur of anticipation, the memory of that moonlit clearing lingering in your mind like a fever dream. Every time you thought about the sudden, burning heat in Jasonâs blue eyes or the rough, calloused weight of his hands on your waist, your heart would do a frantic little dance against your ribs.
You had successfully turned the rugged, shy cowboy into a man on a mission, and today was the day he was set to claim his prize as the atmosphere inside the massive, indoor rodeo arena was electric, thick with the heavy scent of buttered popcorn, stale beer, trampled dirt, and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline.
The air was a swirling vortex of noiseâthe booming, echoey rattle of the loudspeaker, the thunderous stomping of thousands of boots against the metal bleachers, and the distant, aggressive snorts of the bulls being loaded into the bucking chutes.
You were sitting squarely between your parents on the crowded benches, just a few rows up from the dirt floor, right where the action was closest as your hands were tightly clamped in your lap, your fingers nervously smoothing down the fabric of your jeans.
The sheer scale of the event was dizzying.
This was the grand finale, and the best riders from three different states were packed into the back, waiting to risk their lives on two thousand pounds of furious, bucking muscle.
Suddenly, the arena lights dimmed, replaced by a blinding, spinning array of colored spotlights that cut through the rising dust as the crowd let out a deafening roar as the commentatorâs voice boomed over the speakers, crackling with high-voltage energy.
âAlright, Texas! Welcome to the main event! The big show! The championship finale youâve all been waitinâ for!â the announcer yelled, his voice echoing off the corrugated metal ceiling.
âTonight, weâve got the meanest bulls, the baddest stock, and the toughest cowboys in the country ready to leave it all in the dirt! Letâs meet our finalists!â
One by one, the riders were introduced, stepping out onto the dirt under the heavy glare of the spotlights as the crowd went wild for each name, the commentator hyping every single player up to the absolute extreme, rattling off their hometowns, their winning streaks, and the terrifying names of the bulls they had managed to conquer.
Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your chest, your eyes glued to the tunnel entrance.
You were barely listening to the names being called, your entire body wound tight with a mixture of intense pride and a sudden, fierce protectiveness, âAnd next up into the arenaâŠâ the announcerâs voice pitched higher, practically vibrating with excitement.
âHeâs a hometown favorite, a man built like a brick wall and twice as tough! Riding out of Gotham County⊠letâs hear it for the one, the only⊠Jason Todd!â
The crowd erupted, the noise was absolute as a wall of cheering and whistling shook the very bench beneath you while Jason stepped out of the shadowed tunnel and into the bright, harsh glare of the spotlights.
He looked absolutely massive, a towering mountain of a man who completely commanded the space around him. The black protective vest strapped over his chest only emphasized the absurd, broad width of his shoulders, and the sleeves of his dark Western shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing those thick, powerful forearms and biceps you had been squeezing just days prior.
Beneath the brim of his low-slung cowboy hat, the stark, silver-grey patch at his fringe caught the artificial light, a rugged, distinct mark on an otherwise fiercely handsome face as he looked intimidating, a dangerous, unyielding force built for rough riding and hard work, but as he stepped further into the arena, his blue eyes began to scan the crowded bleachers.
He wasnât looking at the thousands of screaming fans. He was looking for one specific face as your breath hitched as his gaze swept over your section, and then, entirely by instinct, your eyes locked.
The moment he spotted you sitting there, the fierce, focused expression on his rugged face instantly softened. A slow, devastatingly crooked grin cracked through his dark stubble, his eyes darkening with that familiar, intense warmth that always made your stomach flip.
Right there in front of the entire stadium, Jason raised a hand to the brim of his hat, tipped it slightly, and gave you a deliberate, slow wink.
Then, keeping his eyes locked entirely on yours, he subtly tilted his head as his lips moved slowly, deliberately exaggerating the words so you could read them perfectly through the distance.
âCanât wait for my kiss, darlinâ.â
The thick, heavy Southern drawl practically bounced off his moving lips, a private, sizzling promise delivered in front of thousands of people as a sudden, intense wave of heat rushed straight to your face, your cheeks burning a bright, undeniable crimson as your heart did a violent flip.
You bit your lower lip, a helpless, breathless smile breaking across your face as you instinctively gripped the edge of the bench as the confidence you had maintained on the trail completely vanished under the weight of his public boldness, leaving you thoroughly flustered and utterly captivated.
âWell now,â your dad muttered from right beside you, leaning forward slightly as he squinted down at the dirt arena, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
âWho do you suppose he was lookinâ at? Boy looked like he was starinâ a hole right in this direction.â
Before you could even think of a lie, your mom leaned past you, using her elbow to give your ribs a sharp, knowing nudge as she had a massive, triumphant grin plastered across her face, her eyes twinkling with pure amusement as she looked at your bright red cheeks.
âOh, I think he was just checkinâ out the scenery, dear,â your mom said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she gave you another meaningful look, knowing damn well exactly who that wink was meant for. âIsnât that right, sweetie? Heâs got an awful nice view from down there.â
You couldnât even answer, your eyes flying back to the arena floor where Jason was now turning toward the bucking chutes, his broad shoulders squared and his massive chest expanding with a deep, confident breath as thelingering, heated tension of his promise hung thick in the air around you, and as the announcer started the countdown, you knew one thing for certain: that bull didnât stand a chance.
The heavy iron gates of the bucking chutes rattled violently as the pressure in the arena shifted from anticipation to pure, chaotic electricity. All around you, the bleachers shook with a deafening cacophony of sound.
Men with thick Texas accents were leaning over the rails, waving crumpled twenty-dollar bills and shouting over the din to place frantic, last-minute bets. âFifty on Black Out! That bull ainât never been rode for eight seconds!â a man a few rows back bellowed, his voice hoarse from beer and screaming.
âYouâre crazy, Wyatt! Toddâs got the left-hand delivery down to a science! A hundred says he stays on!â another roared back, slamming a heavy palm against the metal seating.
The air grew thick with the choking stench of kicked-up dirt, stale sweat, and the pungent, raw musk of an agitated animal. Down in chute number three, a massive, midnight-black Brahman bull named Widowmaker let out a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated right through the soles of your boots.
The beast slammed its massive, muscular flank against the steel pipes, sending a shuddering clang through the entire stadium and perched right on top of that furious mountain of muscle was Jason as the playful, devastatingly confident cowboy who had just winked at you was gone, replaced by a hyper-focused warrior. He was tucked down low, his massive thighs gripping the bullâs broad back, his heavy Western boots dug in tight.
His left hand, wrapped in leather and thick rigging rope, was clamped down like a vice. You could see the incredible width of his shoulders tensing beneath his vest, his knuckles white, those severely calloused hands putting every ounce of their legendary strength into the rope.
âWatch his head, Jason! Watch the spin!â someone from his pit crew yelled from the top of the chutes, spitting a stream of tobacco into the dirt.
The announcerâs voice cut through the madness, soaring over the roar of the crowd. âAlright, folks! This is it! The ride that decides the whole damn season! Jason Todd versus the unrideable Widowmaker! Pull that gate!â
The steel door flew open with a violent, metallic crash as the stadium seemed to hold its collective breath for a fraction of a second before exploding into absolute bedlam. Widowmaker erupted out of the chute like a freight train, launching all four of his massive hooves clean off the dirt as the bull twisted mid-air, a violent, bone-shattering contortion designed to snap a riderâs spine.
âHold on, cowboy!â your mom screamed beside you, completely abandoning her teasing demeanor as she gripped your fatherâs arm.
Your dad was already on his feet, his jaw set, his eyes glued to the chaos in the dirt and for the first four seconds, Jason was a machine as his massive biceps flexed, the thick muscles bunching beneath his shirt as he countered every brutal, jarring thrust of the bull.
The silver-grey patch at his fringe flashed under the stadium lights as his head snapped back with the sheer force of the movement. He looked unyielding, a force of nature matching the beast dollar for dollar.
But at the five-second mark, disaster struck as Widowmaker dropped his massive front shoulders and executed a brutal, erratic counter-clockwise pivot that caught everyone off guard.
The sudden, violent shift in momentum tore the rigging rope just a fraction out of Jasonâs grip as a collective, horrified gasp sucked the air straight out of the stadium. âHeâs loose! Heâs tracking right!â the announcer shouted, his voice cracking with panic. âTodd is losing his seat!â
Your heart violently stopped as the world slowed down to an agonizing, suffocating crawl. Jasonâs massive frame was thrown violently to the left, his center of gravity completely destroyed. His right leg flew out of position, dangling uselessly in the air as the sheer, terrifying force of the bull dragged him sideways.
He was slipping as you could see the raw strain on his face, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles looked ready to snap, his dark stubble drenched in sweat and dirt. âHeâs going down!â a man next to you yelled, throwing his hat into the air in frustration. âThere goes my money!â
It looked entirely impossible. He was too far gone, his body hanging at a devastating angle off the side of the spinning monster as the bull sensed the weakness, bucking even harder, throwing its massive head back to finish the job and trample the cowboy into the dirt.
Seven seconds as Jason was practically dragging against the bullâs flank, held on by nothing more than the raw, desperate friction of his calloused fingers locked into the coarse rope.
Then, in a spectacular, blind leap of faith at the absolute last microsecond, Jason didnât try to pull himself back upâhe used the bullâs own violent upward buck to launch his entire weight in the opposite direction.
It was a reckless, terrifying gamble that should have broken his arm⊠but with a burst of pure, unadulterated adrenaline, his massive thighs clamped back down onto the beastâs spine with the force of a hydraulic press as he snapped back into the center of the saddle just as the bull gave one final, desperate twist.
The horn wailed through the arena, signaling the end of the grueling eight seconds but before the sound could even fade, Jason cleanly released his rope and threw himself off the back of the slowing bull, hitting the dirt in a practiced, heavy roll.
He scrambled to his feet, dust swirling around his massive boots, as the rodeo clowns rushed in to distract the roaring beast as the stadium went absolutely primitive.
Thousands of people slammed their seats, jumping to their feet in a unified, thunderous roar that shook the concrete foundations of the building as the air was filled with flying cowboy hats, spilled beer, and deafening cheers.
âHe did it! By the grace of God and a whole lot of grit, Jason Todd stayed on!â the announcer screamed, his voice completely drowned out by the ecstatic crowd. âA perfect ride! We have our champion!â
Your dad was cheering at the top of his lungs, throwing a fist into the air, while your mom was laughing and clapping beside you. But you were barely conscious of them as you were standing on the bench, your chest heaving, your hands trembling with a dizzying mix of relief and pure, uncontainable pride.
Down in the center of the dirt, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees, Jason finally looked up as he wiped a streak of sweat and dark Texas mud from his forehead, his chest expanding with massive, exhausted breaths.
He ignored the cameras, the flashing lights, and the judges rushing toward him as his blue eyes cut straight through the chaos, searching the roaring crowd until they landed directly on you.
As he saw you standing there, flushed and breathless, a wide, triumphant, and devastatingly crooked grin broke across his rugged face. He didnât say a word, but the burning, lingering heat in his gaze told you everything you needed to know.
The cowboy had won his matchâand now, he was coming to collect his prize.
The chaotic roar of the stadium became a distant hum as the judges and a swarm of eager reporters descended upon the center of the dirt arena. Camera crews shuffled frantically, their heavy lenses catching the glare of the bright spotlights as they crowded around Jason.
He was completely surrounded, drowned in a sea of microphones and congratulations, but his eyes kept darting back toward the stands, trying to keep you in his sight. âCome on, Elena, letâs go grab some of those jumbo hotdogs and a couple of cold sodas before the lines get longer than a Texas mile,â your dad grunted, his hand firmly taking your momâs arm as he began navigating the crowded steps.
Your mom resisted for a split second, casting a knowing, mischievous look back over her shoulder at you. âOh, but donât you want to wait forââ
âThe boyâs busy gettinâ his trophy, letâs go,â your dad interrupted mildly, completely oblivious as he dragged her away into the concourse.
You stayed behind on the metal bench, a soft sigh escaping your lips as the cool evening breeze from the arenaâs ventilation system brushed against your flushed cheeks as the air here still smelled heavily of fried food, trampled dirt, and the electric tang of adrenaline.
You slid your phone out of your pocket, your fingers flying across the screen as you opened a group chat with your friends back at school. âYou guys will literally never believe the hot cowboy Iâve been hanging out with,â you typed, a sudden, helpless giggle bubbling up from your chest.
You tapped your foot against the floorboards, a bright, goofy smile plastered across your face as the text bubbles popped up in response as every few seconds, you would look up from the glowing screen, your eyes tracking across the dirt to where Jason was still being pampered and complimented.
He looked entirely out of place among the city slickers with microphones, a towering mountain of a man who looked like he just wanted to escape the suffocating crowd. Even from a distance, you could see the massive width of his shoulders tensing beneath his protective vest, his biceps stretching the fabric of his dark Western shirt as he politely nodded at a reporter.
The distinct, stark silver-grey patch at his fringe stood out proudly under the harsh lights, dusted with a light layer of arena grime as you looked down at your phone again, biting your lip as you started typing out a detailed description of just how big his arms actually were.
âWell now, I surely hope you ainât textinâ some other fella after what I just pulled off down there.â
The thick, heavy Southern drawl cut through the stadium din like a sharp blade as your attention was violently swayed as you snapped your head up, your eyes widening in surprise. Jason had completely abandoned the media circus as he came jogging right toward your section, a wide, triumphant grin breaking through the dark stubble on his face.
Before the security guard near the rails could even blink, Jason gripped the top of the metal barrier with one massive, calloused hand and effortlessly vaulted his entire body over the railing in one smooth, athletic motion as the crowd nearby gasped and muttered, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see a camera crew quickly pivoting their heavy equipment, lenses zooming in on the two of you as they loudly wondered into their headsets who on earth you were.
Jason didnât care about the cameras. He stepped up into the bleachers, huffing and puffing from the sheer exertion of the ride, and immediately planted one heavy, dirt-caked boot up on the bench right next to you.
âYou were lookinâ so pretty up here, I just couldnât stay down in that dirt a second longer,â he panted, his chest expanding deeply against his vest as he reached out, his huge hand catching the back of your head, his thick fingers ruffling your hair with an overwhelming, affectionate fondness that sent a shiver straight down your spine. âLord have mercy, sweetheart, youâre a sight for sore eyes.â
You immediately clicked your phone off, completely abandoning your friends to give him your undivided, breathless attention.
You smiled up at him, your hands instinctively reaching up to play with the damp, dark curls at the nape of his neck, your fingers brushing past that beautiful silver-grey fringe.
âYou were amazing, Jason,â you congratulated him, your voice full of genuine, soaring emotion. âI thought you were going to fall for a second, but you were so stubborn.â
âTold you I wasnât losinâ,â he chuckled, his voice dropping into a husky, heated rumble. âHad a mighty fine incentive waitinâ for me in the stands. Couldnât go bitinâ the dust in front of my girl, now could I?â
âOh, so Iâm your incentive now?â you teased, your heart doing a happy little flip at the words my girl.
âDarlinâ, youâre the only reason I even held on for the past five seconds,â he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners with pure, unadulterated devotion as he backed up just a single step, his teal eyes flashing with a sudden, playful burst of energy.
Before you could even ask what he was doing, his huge, rugged hands reached forward and securely grabbed you by the waist as the absolute heat of his palms burned straight through your clothes.
With a low grunt of effort, he effortlessly hoisted you completely off the bleacher bench, lifting you high into the air as a breathless, delighted scream escaped your throat as he began to twirl you around in a tight circle right there in the stands.
The world spun in a blur of stadium lights and cheering faces, but your hands immediately clamped around his broad shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, completely ignoring the thick layer of sweat, arena dust, and raw musk clinging to his skin.
Once the dizzying twirling finally stopped, you didnât let go as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and hooked your legs securely around his large, muscular waist, clinging to his massive frame like a koala.
Jason let out a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrated powerfully against your chest as he slowly tilted his upper body downward, leaning back slightly as if he were losing his balance.
âWhoa there, darlinâ... hold on tight, I might just drop you right into the dirt,â he teased, a wicked, boyish smirk playing on his lips as he tested your grip.
âYou wouldnât dare, cowboy,â you gasped, a beautiful, radiant smile breaking across your face as you squeezed him tighter with your thighs.
âNah, youâre right. I wouldnât,â he whispered softly, his playful demeanor melting away in an instant.
His expression turned incredibly tender, completely captivated by you as those huge, heavily calloused handsâthe ones he was always so terrified would scratch your smooth skinâsettled firmly against the small of your back, lifting your weight effortlessly, supporting you with an unbelievable, gentle reverence.
He held you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the entire crowded arena and down below, the scene was absolute chaos.
The lead sports reporter, a sharp-faced woman holding a microphone with the networkâs logo, stood frozen mid-sentence, her mouth slightly open.
âCut the B-roll! Get the camera up there, now!â the field producer barked into his headset, frantically waving his clipboard toward the bleachers.
Three separate camera crews moved in a synchronized, panicked scramble as heavy, shoulder-mounted lenses swiveled away from the empty winner's podium, tilting sharply upward to capture the towering champion cradling a mystery woman in the stands.
The red recording lights blazed to life. Boom mics were hoisted high on long metal poles, thrust blindly toward the bleachers to catch whatever private words were passing between you. The stadiumâs giant Jumbotron screen flickered, suddenly cutting away from the replay of the ride to display a massive, high-definition live feed of the two of you.
A collective, roaring gasp rippled through the thousands of spectators as they realized the rugged, notoriously closed-off Jason Todd was looking at someone like they were his entire universe but you didnât wait another second as you leaned down, closing the small distance between your faces, and pulled him directly into a deep, breathless kiss.
The moment his lips met yours, the entire world seemed to go completely silent as the flashbulbs of the camera crew exploded below in a rapid, blinding strobe, capturing every single angle of the embrace, but the glaring lights faded into nothingness.
His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and parting eagerly against yours with a raw, lingering hunger that had been building for months as he let out a low, needy growl against your mouth, completely losing himself in you.
His thick arms tightened around you, crushing you against his massive chest as he returned the kiss with a beautiful, unyielding intensity. It was slow, detailed, and utterly consuming as the rough texture of his stubble scratched pleasantly against your jawline as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his thumbs rubbing soothing, affectionate circles into your lower back.
He was completely unbothered by the fact that their faces were currently plastered across a sixty-foot screen for the entire state to see; in his mind, he was entirely alone with you.
When you finally pulled back just a fraction, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together. Down on the dirt floor, a reporter was frantically whispering into her microphone, âFolks, we are witnessing an unprecedented moment here at the finale... the champion has completely abandoned his trophy for a mystery woman in the stands!â
Jasonâs teal eyes were dark, pooling with a heavy, undisguised adoration as a soft, breathless smile broke through his stubble as he ignored the frantic camera operators shoving their lenses right against the safety railing just a few feet away.
âBest damn prize in the whole state,â he murmured against your lips, his thick Southern accent dragging over the words like a sweet, heavy promise.
He leaned up to press one more soft, lingering kiss to the tip of your nose, his eyes shining with a pure, giddy happiness. âLet âem take their pictures, darlinâ. I want the whole damn world to know youâre mine.â
You couldnât help the soft, breathless laugh that bubbled up against his lips, your fingers tightening in his dark curls. âOh, theyâre taking pictures all right⊠I think weâre currently the main event, cowboy.â
Jason finally glanced down over his broad shoulder, his teal eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the absolute circus below. The camera operators were virtually climbing over one another, shoving their massive lenses as close to the safety railing as they could manage without falling into the dirt.
Flashbulbs continued to pop in a blinding rhythm, casting sharp, dramatic shadows across the metal bleachers as the lead reporter was practically vibrating with excitement, gesturing wildly to her cameraman to get a tighter zoom on your locked hands.
âLet âem look,â Jason grunted, turning his attention right back to you, his expression softening back into that incredibly sweet, melting look reserved only for you as he adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you just an inch higher to settle you more comfortably against his chest.
âThey can take all the pictures they want. Ainât none of âem getting a piece of this.â
âJason, your trophy,â you whispered, though you werenât making even the slightest effort to untangle yourself from his massive frame.
âThe announcer is still calling your name...!â
And it was true. Over the roaring stadium speakers, the announcerâs booming voice was sounding increasingly desperate. âUh... a spectacular finish tonight folks, and if we can get our champion, Jason Todd, back down to the center arena for the official presentationââ
âThe trophy ainât going nowhere,â Jason murmured, his voice dropping into that husky, intimate register that made your heart do backflips as he leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a brief, heavy second, inhaling deeply.
You could feel the rough scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin, followed by the warm, lingering press of his lips against your pulse point. âBesides, I already told you⊠I got the only prize I care about right here.â
A cheer erupted from the section of bleachers nearest to you, a group of older roping fans clapping loudly at the sheer, unapologetic romance of it all as you felt a bright flush creep up your neck and into your cheeks, but looking down at Jasonâseeing the fierce, protective pride shining in his eyesâany lingering embarrassment completely evaporated.
He slowly began to slide you down his body, letting your feet find the solid metal of the bleacher bench, though he didnât dare remove his hands from your waist.
Even standing on the bench, you were only just eye-level with him as his large hands remained anchored on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing, affectionate strokes through the fabric of your clothes.
âYouâre really not gonna go get that giant piece of silver?â you teased, your hands resting flat against his broad, solid chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thudding of his heart beneath the protective vest.
âIâll get it when Iâm good and ready,â he chuckled, a boyish, wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he reached up, his thumb gently wiping away a stray speck of arena dust from your cheek with an unbelievable tenderness.
âRight now, Iâm busy making sure my girl doesnât run off with any of those city slickers down there.â
âNot a chance, you big baby,â you smiled, leaning in to press a quick, playful kiss to his chin. âI happen to have a thing for stubborn cowboys.â
Jasonâs smile widened, bright and triumphant, completely unbothered by the lens of a camera that was currently capturing every single second of your conversation for the giant Jumbotron above as he looped one massive arm securely around your shoulders, tucking you tightly against his side as he finally turned to face the media circus below, ready to claim his title with you right by his side.
© konseur â donât copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.
