ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

Crush (Lenny Summers x fem! Reader)

Summary: Someone has a crush on you.

Warning: LENNYYYYY! soft, crush, fluff, Lenny being Lenny? Reader age same as Lenny, no angst just pure fluff 😛

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Morning light spilled across Horseshoe Overlook, painting the camp in gold. You were sitting by the fire, brushing your horse's mane while humming a soft tune you didn't even realize you'd been repeating all week. From the other side of camp, Lenny Summers watched you with a quiet kind of fondness - the kind that sneaks up on a man when he least expects it.

He'd been meaning to talk to you for days. Not just the usual "howdy" or "pass me that rifle oil," but really talk. Every time he tried, though, you'd flash him that easy smile and his words would melt faster than snow in Saint Denis.

"Go on, boy," Arthur muttered with a smirk, catching Lenny staring again. "You keep lookin' at them like that, they're gonna start thinkin' you're fixin' to write poetry."

Lenny nearly choked. "I-I ain't starin'! I was just-uh-checkin' their saddle. Looked loose."

Arthur chuckled. "Sure, sure. Saddle looks mighty pretty too, don't it?"

Lenny turned red.

That afternoon, he decided to do something. Anything. Maybe if he showed off his shooting, you'd notice. Or maybe he could help you with chores - something smooth, something gentlemanly.

So when he saw you struggling to carry a water bucket from the river, he hurried over.
"Here, let me help you with that," he said quickly, taking the handle from your hands.

You blinked in surprise. "Oh-thank you, Lenny. I've got it though."

He grinned nervously. "Nah, nah, wouldn't feel right lettin' you do all the heavy work. My mama raised me better than that."

You laughed, and something in his chest flipped.

Later, he tried again. While everyone was eating, he sat next to you at the campfire and handed you a cup. "Made you some coffee. Not sure if it's any good - Pearson says it tastes like mud, but he eats raccoon, so I don't think he gets an opinion."

You took the cup, smiling again. "It's better than Pearson's stew. Thank you."

He looked down, hiding his grin in the firelight.

Over the next few days, Lenny's little gestures didn't go unnoticed. He'd always make sure your horse was brushed before dawn patrol. When Dutch asked for volunteers on risky errands, Lenny would glance at you first - if you raised your hand, so did he.

One evening, after a long ride, you caught him alone near the edge of camp, cleaning his rifle under the stars. You approached quietly.
"You've been real kind lately," you said. "You don't have to keep doin' things for me, you know."

Lenny looked up, startled. "Ain't doin' nothin' special. Just... like seein' you smile, is all."

Your heart softened. "Well, you sure succeed at that."

He chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that means I'm doin' somethin' right."

The night fell quiet for a while - just the wind, the crickets, and the low hum of the campfire. Then you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

Lenny dared to look at you then - really look. And when your eyes met his, warm and unguarded in the dark, he realized you'd noticed him long before he even tried.