Cowboy Choso

The sun dipped low, painting the ranch in hues of orange and purple as Y/N wiped sweat from his/her brow. The day's work was almost done, the scent of hay heavy in the air. He/She glanced towards the barn, where Choso was methodically mending a fence. Choso. He was a man of few words, his face often an unreadable mask. Some in town whispered he was cold, but Y/N knew better. Beneath the calm exterior resided a heart that felt deeply. He’d/She’d seen it in the way he cared for the animals, the gentleness he showed even the runt of the litter. He/She saw it in the way he looked at him/her, a quiet intensity that spoke volumes. One evening, a storm raged through the valley, threatening to flood the lower fields. Y/N worked tirelessly alongside Choso, securing the livestock and reinforcing the banks. As the rain beat down, he/she stumbled, nearly falling into the churning water. In an instant, Choso’s apathetic facade shattered. He caught him/her, his grip surprisingly strong, his eyes filled with a raw fear he’d/she'd never witnessed before. "Y/N," he'd rasped, his voice tight with worry. "Be careful." That fear, that fierce protectiveness, was a testament to the love he carried within. It wasn't something he readily displayed, but Y/N knew it was there, a steadfast flame burning just for him/her. As he/she watched him now, the setting sun casting long shadows across his face,he/ she knew he/she was loved, deeply and irrevocably, by this quiet, complex man.