Bunni

"Cousin, missed your ugly mug," she'd tease, ruffling his hair before heading to the kitchen where Lady reigned. They'd chop onions for greens, stir cornbread batter, Zinnia laughing as Lady swatted her hand for sneaking tastes.

"Girl, you stayin' for supper?" Lady'd ask, eyes twinkling knowing. Zinnia always did, plates piled high with fried chicken and mac, the family none the wiser to the fire simmering under her smiles at Joe across the table.

By Lady's good graces, it'd happen—"Zinnia, baby, run to the Piggly Wiggly for some ice and charcoal. Take one of them boys with you too." Zinnia'd grin, eyes locking on Joe. "Joe, you game?" He'd nod casual, grabbing keys like it was nothing, while Tee and Ja'Marr shot hoops out back oblivious.

They'd peel out, her hand on his thigh five minutes in, store bags forgotten in the bed as they veered to their ducked-off creek spot. Truck parked under pines, seats laid back, Zinnia climbing his lap fast, dress hiked, pussy soaking his shorts before he yanked them down.

"Quick, Cowboy—fuck me hard," she'd whisper, sinking on his dick, walls gripping tight as he thrust up, hands bruising her ass. Slaps echoing, her whimpers filling the cab—high and country-sweet, "Oh Joe, right there"—until he pumped cum deep, her clit grinding his base to shudder through her peak. Bags grabbed after, back before anyone blinked.

Some nights, Joe slipped away solo, Ubering the hour out to her cabin on the Sevier outskirts, black horse nickering in the pasture, chickens scratching at dusk. Door barely shut before he pinned her to the wall, stripping her tank and shorts, folding her legs over his shoulders to lick her pussy sloppy—tongue dragging her folds, sucking her clit till she bucked.

Then bed, couch, kitchen table—he flipped her every way, doggy with ass high, her back arched as he plowed deep, balls slapping wet. Missionary legs wide, dick spearing her g-spot relentless. Reverse cowgirl, her grinding back, tits bouncing as she moaned that whimpery Tennessee drawl, "Harder, cowboy, wreck this pussy." Joe soaked it up, his talk shifting cowboy-thick: "Fuck yes, darlin', you like daddy fuckin' you deep? This tight cunt milkin' my dick?" She'd gasp, loving it, nails raking his chest. "Goddamn, Cowboy, say it again”. She groans, “Ride this dick like you own it, sugar, squeeze daddy dry." Or, balls-deep pounding, "Take every inch, baby girl, daddy's breedin' that sweet hole." Her whimpers turned screams, cumming hard around him, pussy fluttering as he flooded her.

He took her on dates too, heart racing under the secrecy. First, a drive-in theater off the highway—old Western flick flickering, her head in his lap sucking his dick slow under a blanket, tongue piercing swirling the head till he nutted down her throat, her swallowing with a wink. Another night, bonfire at a hidden river bend, stars thick overhead; he roasted marshmallows, fed her bites between kisses, then bent her over a log, skirt flipped, fucking her ass-up while embers popped, her moans lost in the rush.

Picnic hit perfect mid-week—Joe packed a cooler in her truck bed: fried pickles, deviled eggs, cold beers, quilt from her cabin. He drove to a wildflower field off backroads, golden hour painting the grass. Spread out, Zinnia in a bikini top and daisy dukes, feeding him grapes, straddling for lazy kisses that turned hungry. "Picnic first, fuckin' after," she laughed, but ten minutes in, he had her on the quilt, shorts off, dick sliding into her slick heat missionary-style, wildflowers brushing her hair as he thrust slow-deep. "Love this view, darlin'—your pussy takin' me whole," he drawled, thumb on her clit, drawing those whimpers till she clenched, cum mixing on her thighs. They ate after, sticky and grinning, her head on his chest.

Joe pitched in on her farm too—mucking the pig pen, tossing hay to chickens and the cow, weeding her garden rows of tomatoes and okra. "You're a natural, Cowboy," she'd say, watching sweat sheen his abs. Then he wanted to learn horse riding.

Her black mare, Midnight, saddled in the corral; Joe mounted shaky first day, Zinnia coaching from below, hands on his thighs. "Heels down, lean forward—good boy." By week two, he trotted laps solo, her cheering, then rewarding with a stall fuck—bent over bales, dick hammering her from behind, her praising, “Fuck me Cowboy!”

Tee stayed clueless, slapping Joe's back at workouts. "Good lookin' out for the family, bro." Ja'Marr just smirked sometimes, but said zip.

Nights out sealed the cover. Tee dragged Joe and Ja'Marr to Rodeo Wranglers twice—dim bar thumping boot-stompers, Zinnia on stage in fringe skirt and boots, leading line dances, hips popping as she hollered calls. Sweat glistened her dark skin, tongue piercing flashing under lights; Joe nursed a beer, dick twitching watching her grind air, Tee hollering proud, clueless to stolen glances. They hit a real rodeo too—dusty arena outside town, bull riders bucking wild.

Zinnia performed halftime: mic in hand, singing twangy covers, dancing with backup girls, skirt twirling to cheers. Joe clapped loudest from the stands, Tee grinning beside, "That's my cousin—badass." Backstage quickie after in her trailer, Joe eating her pussy on the fold-out while crowds roared outside.

Apart, phones burned up filthy. Texts pinged nonstop:

Zinnia: Missin' that big dick stretchin' me. Pussy throbbin' thinkin' bout it.

Joe: Rub that clit for daddy. Send vid.

Zinnia: Vid: fingers plunging wet pussy, moaning his name.

Joe: Fuck, darlin'. Gonna fill you next time.

FaceTime worse—her in bed, tits out, spreading legs to cam her pierced tongue flicking her nipples. Joe stroked slow, then slapped his thick dick heavy on the screen—thwack-thwack—veins bulging, pre-cum dripping. "Hear that, darlin’? This for your mouth." She'd squeal excited, high-pitched country glee, "Oh fuck, Cowboy, slap it harder—wanna suck it!" Pussy clenching visible as she came, him nutting ropes across his abs, groaning her name. "Miss you already, darlin'."

Three weeks in, the pull deepened—no end in sight, just hotter secrets.

Dust swirled under neon lights at Rodeo Wranglers on bring-a-buddy night, the bar packed wall-to-wall with locals and their crew, boot-stomping to thumping country beats. Smoke hung thick from cigarettes and fog machines, cowboy hats bobbing as Zinnia owned the stage. Fringe skirt swishing mid-thigh, plaid crop top tied tight under her tits, cowboy boots kicking high—she led the line dance like a firecracker, hips popping sharp on the 'electric slide' twist, tongue piercing glinting when she hollered calls into the mic. "Y'all keep up now—left, right, slide!"

Sweat beaded her skin, crowd whooping as she dropped low, ass grinding the air teasing. Joe, Tee, and Ja'Marr claimed a high-top table near the bar, beers sweating in their hands. Joe couldn't peel his eyes off her, dick stirring under his jeans every time she spun, those stolen glances hitting like sparks. Tee clapped loud, proud as hell, "That's my blood—get it, Zin!" Ja'Marr grinned, sipping whiskey, "She light this place up every time."

Zinnia hopped off stage after the set, chest heaving, wiping brow with her forearm. "Break time, y'all—grab a drink!" Bar erupted cheers. She slipped out the side door for air, cool night breeze hitting her flushed skin, leaning against rough wood siding, scrolling her phone for Joe's latest text. "Watchin' you kill it. Your place after darlin'?" She smirked, thumbs flying back.

Heavy boots crunched gravel behind her. Big dude, mid-30s, flannel stretched over beer gut, trucker hat backward—stumbled up reeking of cheap bourbon.

"Hey, buckle bunny. Saw you dancin'. That ass callin' my name. Let's hit my truck, I'll show you a real ride." Zinnia straightened, polite smile fading. "Nah, sugar, I'm good. Just gettin' air. My guy is inside." He stepped closer, breath hot. "C'mon, don't play. Bitches like you love it rough." She backed up. "I said no. Walk off." His hand shot out, clamping her upper arm hard, yanking her toward the lot. "Quit whorin' around—"

The door flew open. Joe, Tee, Ja'Marr spilling out, spotting the tug. Tee's eyes flashed. "Aye! Let go of my cousin, bruh!" He charged forward, fists balled. Joe right behind, shoving the guy's shoulder hard. "Aye, man, let my girl go!" Zinnia twisted, tears pricking from the grip bruise blooming. "Joe! Stop, baby!" she shouts. The dude released her, staggering, slurring mad. Joe got inches from his face, chest puffed.

"Nah, cus, who are you to be puttin' hands on her?" he snarls, eyes dark. "Joey! You proved your point," Zinnia pleaded, rubbing her arm, voice shaky. The dunk laughed ugly. "Man, her ass easy! Tryna see what my buddies talkin' bout'." Ja'Marr wrinkled nose, disgusted. "Bro, get the fuck outta here before you get yo ass kicked." Joe spun back to Zinnia, cupping her jaw gentle, thumb swiping a tear. "You okay, darlin'?" She nodded, wiping her cheeks. "Yeah, baby. I was just worried bout' you, I ain't want you in no trouble." He chuckled low, kissing her forehead quick. "I'm fine, baby."

Tee froze mid-step, puzzle pieces slamming. My girl. Baby. Darlin'. That look. Jaw clenched, he wheeled on Joe. "Aye, man! I know you ain't fuckin' my cousin!" Zinnia hissed sharp, "Shit." They re caught. Tee steamed, veins popping neck. "Cuz, relax—it ain't nothin' serious for you to be worked up over now!" she jumped in, hand on his arm. Tee ignored her, inches from Joe's nose. "I told you and Ja'Marr she was off limits, and you go and fuck her anyway?!"

Joe fired back, not backing up an inch. "Aye, bro, back up! Last I checked, Zinnia grown and so am I. We can do whatever we want." Voices rose over bar hum leaking out. Zinnia wedged between, facing Joe first. "This shit ends TODAY!" Tee bellowed in her ear. She whipped to him. "Tee, I'm sorry, but that ain't happenin'! I like him." she says.

"Yes it is—you are my responsibility! I'm not lettin' my boy fuck on you 'cause it's convenient!" Tee hissed low, eyes boring. Joe pushed past her shoulder. “That ain't even how it's goin' down, bro! I actually like her! We do more than fuck!"

"Whatever. I know you, and I said no!" Tee snapped. Zinnia met his glare steady. "You can't decide that for me." Tee scanned them, breathing heavy. "So y'all not gon' stop?" Tee barks. Joe locked eyes firm. "No! We love and respect you, but you gotta butt outta this. We gown bro." Joe sys trying to reason with him. Tee nodded slow, cold. "Aight. Bet." He stormed inside, shoulder-checking the door. Ja'Marr clapped Joe's back. "He's drunk—he'll cool off by tomorrow." Zinnia sighed deep, leaning into Joe. "Well, that blew up."

The bar wound down late, tension thick but ignored. They piled into Zinnia's truck—Tee silent shotgun, Joe and Ja'Marr squeezed back, her driving to her cabin. Chickens quiet in coops, Midnight whinnying soft from pasture under moonlight. Pig pen silent, garden dewy. Inside, wood floors creaked, fire crackling in stone hearth Joe stoked quick. Zinnia hovered in the kitchen, Joe sidling up, hand low on her back. "You good?" he murmured. She nodded, pecking his jaw. "Yeah, Cowboy. Just glad we ain't gotta hide anyore."

Tee and Ja'Marr took air mattresses in the living room, snoring synced up by 2 a.m. Joe slipped to Zinnia's room quiet, door clicking shut. She waited in a tank and panties, sheets tangled. "C'mere, Cowboy," she whispered, pulling him down.

Their mouths crashed hungry, his hands roaming her tits, pinching her hard nipples through the thin fabric. She yanked his shirt off, nails dragging down his abs. "I need you inside me— be quiet though." He shoves his jeans down, his dick thick and hard sprangs free. She spread her legs wide, pussy slick already, guiding him in slow. He thrusts deep, burying balls-deep, her walls clenching tight. "Fuck, sugar—milkin' me so good," he growled low, that country drawl he picked up thick, hips rolling steady.

She bit her lip stifling whimpers, that high Tennessee keen leaking soft. "Yes, Cowboy—fuck me deep." Missionary turned into her riding him reverse, ass grinding down, taking every inch while he slapped cheeks light, thumbs spreading her. Tension from the night fueled it raw—he flipped her doggy, plowing relentless, hand over her mouth muffling moans as she bucked back.

"Take it all, baby girl—daddy's cummin' soon." She shuddered first, pussy spasming, juices soaking sheets. He followed, pumping thick ropes deep inside, groaning buried in her neck. Collapsed tangled, breaths syncing, his fingers tracing the blooming bruise on her arm. Outside, crickets chirped oblivious, secrets stacking higher.

Sunlight filtered through dew-kissed pines surrounding Zinnia's cabin, chickens clucking lazy in the coop as Midnight nickered from the pasture. Coffee brewed strong on the stove, mixing with bacon sizzle from the cast-iron skillet Zinnia manned in her short sundress—floral print hugging her curves, hem skimming thighs, cowboy boots scuffed from farm work, bandanna tying back her thick hair in a messy ponytail.

Joe leaned against the counter nearby, arm slung casual around her waist, thumb tracing her hipbone under fabric. Tee and Ja'Marr sprawled at the kitchen table, nursing mugs, air thick with last night's hangover and unresolved beef. A knock rattled the door sharp—Lady bustled in without waiting, face set in determination.

"Mornin', y'all. What's this I'm hearing about y'all fighting? Tee, boy, I done told you Zinnia grown. If she wants to be wth Joe so be it." she started, pulling up a chair, eyes flicking between Joe and Zinnia. Tee shrugged, sipping black. "Mama Tee, me and Zinnia aren't just—" Joe is cut off by Tee, "I told them off limits! I don't care that you my boy, family is off limits, PERIOD!"

Joe straightened, jaw tight. "We grown, Tee. This isn't your call." Zinnia plated eggs, voice soft. "Here baby, listen Cuz, we respect you, but this, us? It's real. Joe makes me happy."

Ja'Marr nodded slow. "Just give it time, bro. You know Joe won't hurt he." Lady sighed, patting Tee's hand. "Family don't dictate hearts. Y'all talk it out civil—"

Gravel crunched outside, heavy engine rumbling to a stop. Black SUV gleamed under morning light, dust settling. "Who's here?" Zinnia asked, fork pausing mid-air, stomach twisting sudden. Tee smirked faint, leaning back. "Oh, I called in some reinforcements." Her face drained color, fork clattering to the plate. "No..."

They piled out quick—Zinnia trailing last, boots thudding porch steps, group clustering on the patchy lawn. The doors slammed. Lawrence unfolded first, tall and gaunt in starched button-down, Bible tucked under arm like a weapon. Deanna followed, severe bun, cross necklace glinting, lips pursed thin. Zinnia froze mid-step, breath hitching sharp. Scar under her nose itched, burned phantom—like her septum being ripped all over again, memories flooding: screams, belts, locked prayer closets. Knees locked, world tilting.

"Well, well, well. Look who has arisen from the grave," Lawrence drawled slow, eyes raking her head to boots. "You know when Tamaurice called, I thought he was lyin'. Thought you were long gone, dead in some ditch, your harlot ways catchin' up. But seein' how you livin'? You'll be ready for the devil to take soon enough." Lady whipped to Tee, horrified wide eyes. "Tamaurice Higgins, what you done?" Ja'Marr shifted uneasy, face paling queasy. Joe zeroed on Zinnia, stepping close instinctive, hand hovering her back.

Deanna sneered, gaze crawling Zinnia's dress clinging from cabin heat, boots muddy. "Still wearin' them little ole clothes. Showin' ya body to every Tom, Dick, and Joe." She glanced sharp at Joe, lip curling. Zinnia trembled visible now, arms wrapping midriff tight, breaths shallow. "Girl, I told you premarital sex was of the devil and you goin' straight to hell. Guess I was right—you ran away from us and lost your mind! Bein' the white man's whore. Leviticus 19:29—'Do not profane your daughter by making her a prostitute, lest the land fall into prostitution.' How did we ever end up with a harlot for a daughter?"

Zinnia shook harder, teeth chattering silent. Words jammed throat, eyes darting unfocused—porch blurring, trees spinning. Blinked rapid, lashes wet. Legs rooted, small girl trapped again in Cocke County hell. Joe shot Tee glare venom. "Dude, get rid of them!" he hissed low, urgent. Lady surged forward arms out. "Alright, y'all gotta go. That's enough! Lawrence, don't be the man our father was to us!"

"Nope, just talkin' to our bastard child," Lawrence spat, raising his hand sharp—testing, commanding. Zinnia flinched violent, whimper high-pitched escaping, ducking instinctive. "Y'all gotta go, man!" Joe barked, angry heat rising, planting firm in front of her, shoulders squared broad. Lady tugged Zinnia's sleeve gentle. "Zinnia, come in the house, baby." She wouldn't budge, catatonic, lips moving faint. "Our Father, who art in heaven... hallowed be thy name..."

Deanna scoffed cold. "The devil knows the word still, that's shockin'. Matthew 4:6—Satan himself quoted Scripture to tempt. Ain't savin' you now." Lawrence loomed closer. "Now you need to leave this here life alone and come on back home. We gon' fix you up proper. Startin' with going back to church." Tee stepped up reluctant, regret cracking voice. "Ima need for y'all to go—callin' y'all was a mistake! Zinni baby, I'm sorry."

Zinnia muttered on, prayer tumbling broken, tears carving tracks down her cheeks. "Thy kingdom come... thy will be done... " Lawrence bellowed final. "That's alright. We know where she is now. We will go, but this won't be the last you hear from us. You hear me, girl!" She flinched again, body jerking, eyes wide, voice automatic. "Yes, sir." she cries out. SUV doors thunked shut, tires spinning gravel away furious.

Air released collective—shoulders sagging, breaths whooshing. Silence crushed heavy. Zinnia broke. Hard.

The gravel dust from the SUV still hung faint in the air, chickens scattering nervous back to the coop as the group's breaths evened out ragged. Zinnia stood rooted on the patchy lawn, sundress fluttering light in the breeze, cowboy boots sunk slight in soft earth. Her dark skin glistened with cold sweat, bandanna slipping loose from her ponytail, thick curls tumbling wild. Tears carved hot paths down her cheeks, breaths coming in hitched gasps. 'I... I can't stay here no more,' she spiraled, voice cracking thin, eyes darting frantic to the driveway like shadows lurked. 'They know where I am. They can pop up whenever—pull up anytime, drag me back. I ain't safe. This place... my home... ruined.' Hands clutched her arms tight, nails digging crescents into flesh, body rocking subtle like a storm-tossed sapling.

Joe wrapped arms around her quick, pulling her solid against his chest, one hand cradling her head, fingers threading gentle through her hair. 'Shh, baby, I got you. Ain't nobody takin' you nowhere. We handle this.' His voice rumbled low, steady anchor, chin resting atop her crown as she buried face in his shirt, sobs muffled fierce.

Lady whirled on Tee, face twisted fury, finger jabbing his chest sharp. 'That's your cousin! Blood! You promised to protect her—from them monsters—and you called 'em straight to her door? Tamaurice Higgins, I can't believe you! After all they done—rippin' her piercing, lockin' her in closets, beatin' Jesus into her skull? You handed her to wolves!'

Zinnia twisted slow in Joe's hold, lifting head to lock eyes on Tee. Betrayal burned raw in her gaze—pupils wide, lashes clumped wet. Tee deflated, shoulders slumping heavy, gut twisting knife-sharp. All he saw was that wide-eyed girl from Cocke County, barreling into his arms after her father’s rages, hiding under his bed during her mother’s prayer marathons. Her safe harbor, now cracked wide. Regret choked him silent a beat. She felt exposed, unsafe—castle walls crumbled by kin.

“Why, Tee?” she whispered broken, voice barely threading air, lower lip quivering.

Joe guided her gentle toward the cabin steps, arm firm around her waist, boots scuffing dirt. “C'mon, darlin', inside. Away from this.” The door creaked open, screen slapping shut behind them.

Tee stepped forward desperate, hands out placating. “Zinnia! Wait—my intentions was for them to talk sense into you, get you back on track... away from all this mess with Joe, the bar life. I—“ Words trailed feeble, hanging limp. Petty undercurrent rang clear—he'd dialed spiteful, grip slipping out of control. He knew it rang hollow.

Ten minutes ticked heavy inside, murmurs filtering faint through walls. Joe emerged sole, door clicking shut firm behind. Face etched grim, eyes shadowed deep. Lady clutched her hands. “Is she okay, Joey?”

“Yeah. she crashed hard, she’s sleepin' now,” Joe muttered, rubbing his neck.

Tee hung head low, voice small. “I ain't think it would be that bad. I swear.”

Ja'Marr exploded, stepping up chest puffed, finger thrusting Tee’s way. “You don't think, my nigga! From the stuff you told us that they did to her? I would've never called 'em! Especially 'cause you salty 'bout Joe wantin' to be with her! They slept together behind your back—whoopty fuckin' do! Maybe 'cause they knew your extra ass would go too far! As we can fucking see!”

Joe leaned on the porch rail, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched like steel. Words jammed in his throat—nothin' to spit at Tee. Holding Zinnia through that breakdown wrecked him: her flinch at raised hands, prayer muttering, body shaking violently. It fucked his head up, rage simmering.

Lady tugged Tee's sleeve sharp, eyes soft on Joe. “We gon' go, baby. Stay with her, please. I'm so sorry—for all this.”

“I got her, Mama,” Joe murmured, voice gravel-warm.

He dapped Ja'Marr up solid, palms clapping firm, nod shared silent. Then eyes pinned Tee, flat unreadable. Tee swallowed thick. “She gon' hate me forever for this shit.”

Joe nodded slow, unflinching. “Yeah. She might.”

Tee rubbed jaw stubble, noddin' defeated. “I'll give her all the space she needs. She can cut me off, block me—I won't bother her. And I'll try talkin' to her parents, get 'em to leave her alone.”

“We heading to the sheriff's department tomorrow for a restraining order. But thanks,” Joe said even, tone clipped.

Tee exhaled ragged. “Tell her I'm so sorry, Joe. From my soul. I knew it was bad but I didn’t think it was that bad. God I feel like such a shit cousin.”

“I will.” Joe pushed off rail. “Take care of her. I'll see you whenever you come back to the house.” Tee says.

“Gimme 'bout a week, to get her head right.” Joe added, glancin' at the cabin door.

Tee nodded final, group turnin' slow toward cars parked crooked. Engines growled alive, tires crunchin' gravel away, leaving farm hushed under noon sun.

Joe slipped inside, bolting the doors deadbolt heavy—chain rattled securely, windows checked and latched tight. House locked down like a fortress. He padded quietly to her room, door whispering-shut. Zinnia curled in fetal position under her quilt, breaths even but shallow, face streaked with dried tears. He toed his boots off quietly, slid under the covers carefully, and pulled her back flush to his chest. Arms draped over her waist, legs tangling with hers. He held her close, his heartbeat steady against her spine. Lips brushed her temple soft, humming low to her favorite song, Tanner Adell's 'Do Angels Drink Whiskey'—melody drifting gentle, notes weaving comfort through the ache.

Zinnia stirred subtle in his arms, body shifting instinctively closer, nestling her back flush against his chest, thick curls tickling his chin. Quilt tugged higher over them both, her hand finding his draped across her waist, fingers interlacing loose. Half awake now, eyelids fluttering heavy, she picked up his hum soft, voice threading airy through the dim room—lyrics spilling whisper-rough from parted lips.

"Do angels drink whiskey when my tears start to shine? Do they pour a round when I'm down? Wonderin' how in hell I get by. Do angels get tipsy when they can't bear to watch me cry?

If angels drink whiskey, then my angels are drunk all the time.." She sang low, melody weaving with his tune, breath warm against the pillow. Chickens clucked faintly outside the window.

Joe tightened his hold slightly, lips brushing her temple again. "I know we haven’t made things official, darlin'. But I want you to know... I love you." His words hung sincere, gravel voice cracking just a touch, thumb stroking circles slow on her knuckles.

She twisted her neck slow, peering up through lashes clumped from earlier tears, dark eyes wide and searching his face in the low light. No man ever dropped those words on her—Lawrence's fists and Deanna's prayers drowned any softness long ago. But here, raw and real, it bloomed warm in her chest, mirroring fiercely. "I love you too," she whispered back, voice feather-soft.

He grinned wide, pulling her tighter like she'd slip away. His forehead pressed to hers for only a beat, breaths mingling close. "I can take you away from here," he murmured, hand sliding up to cup her cheek gentle. "Pack up the animals. Get us a ranch outside Cincinnati. You'll be closer to me, season after season. Far from those lunatics, no popping up unannounced. Safe. A fresh start."

She bit her bottom lip in thought, gaze drifting to the shadowed ceiling beams, thumb tracing his wrist vein. Farm life creaked settling around them—pig snorts distant from the pen, Midnight trotting around. "This is my home, Joe. I built it from scratch after runnin' away. I’ve got no skills for no Cincinnati—flippin' burgers? Cleanin' offices? What I know 'bout city life?"

"How 'bout we figure it out later?" he asked soft, nose nudging hers playfully, easing the weight.

She nodded slowly, body melting back into his frame. "Yeah... later." They cuddled closer, her head tucking under his chin, his chin resting atop her crown. Breaths synced up, hum fading to silence, sleep pulling them under. Wrapped safe in each other, the world locked out beyond the bolted door.

A/n: probably yall: