"Gojo Satoru, get the fuck out of my property!" You shouted, aiming your shotgun at his head.

"Woah there!" Satoru raised his hands in surrender, letting out a nervous chuckle.

His eyes flickered between you and the heavy gun in your hands. "Big gun for a small girl like you, don't ya think?" he said, stepping closer. The cowboy was careful with each step he took, a minor trigger would get his brains blown. Though, he had to admit, he liked this fierce side of yours. "You don't want to shoot me by mistake, right? Why don't ya hand it over?" Satoru extended his hand, beckoning you to give him the shotgun.

"Out of my ranch," you said, your voice firm and your grip on the shotgun tight. The familiar ‘click’ of the safety being taken off had Satoru tense and on edge, a small sign that you meant business. You didn’t really want to cause any harm to him–not yet, at least–but he left you with no choice. Satoru came every day to your ranch to annoy you with flowers ever since he laid his eyes on you at the town’s dance. And damn you looked pretty that day.

He would also voluntarily do the hard work of taking care of your barn as he would say, “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have her hands calloused and soiled with fertilizer,” making you cringe every time you heard it, which was painfully often. And you just knew the moment you saw him at the market you would be going home on his horse with him as he pesters you with his witty puns on the way.

Chivalrous enough, Satoru could not let 'a delicate lady such as yourself carry heavy weights' or whatever corny crap that always comes out of his mouth.

He was a man who didn't take a 'no' for an answer, that much is clear to you. The cowboy had no intentions of giving up on you and was sure you would soon realize you were meant to be and would fall under his charms.

“Damn, what’s gotten you so feisty today, dollcakes? Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, eh?” Satoru chuckled softly, his words laced with anxiousness, he kept his hands raised as he slowly stepped forward, cautious of you.

“Now come on, ya wouldn't want that pretty dress of yours soiled with the blood of a poor man in love,” he said, trying to reason with you. Although he found your stubbornness endearing–and quite hot–he began to worry you were not backing down. You weren’t actually going to pull the trigger, right?

Right?