#i love tyler childers’ voice

[housecow]

it’s been a while since i posted smthn im listening to…

[moonsgemini]

apple pie - cowboy!rafe

summary: Rafe Cameron would have a lot of things in his life differently if he knew he’d meet an angel like you. Befriending your brother in the small town was the best and worst thing that happened to the both of you.

warnings: cowboy!rafe, brothers best friend trope, fem reader, she/her, mentions of religion but reader isn’t very religious (yeah idk either), smoking, alcohol, mutual pining, kissing, also found family you could sayyyy

an: this is inspired by feathered indians by tyler childers & my ongoing need to find a cowboy whose obsessed with me. I didn’t include topper in this bc I do not see him as a cowboy LOL y’all let me know if you want a part two. Was really feeling it at the beginning but idk if I love it.

-

Megan Maroney blasting through your headphones wasn’t enough to muffle the sound of the slamming front door and numerous loud footsteps that followed. The familiar sound of rowdy boys filling the house, then came the familiar muffled voices. It only surprised you a little because it was still early into the night.

Usually your brother and his friends came back around three in the morning from the bars, but that’s if they didn’t have work the next day. You knew they didn’t have work because your brother, Mason, had promised to take you shopping in town. You could only assume that they got into some sort of trouble. It’s the only reason why they’d be back early.

Slipping your headphones off you got up from your desk where you had been working on assignments for your summer class. Climbing down the stairs in nothing but your cut oversized tee shirt that exposed your collar bone and soft sleep shorts.

Your brother spotted you immediately, “Hey! She’s awake!” Mason exclaimed with a mouthful of the apple pie you had baked earlier. The slur in his speech giving away his intoxication.

You scoffed with a smile, “It’s only ten Mase,” you turned to the three other boys that were gathered around the kitchen table, “hi fellas.”

They greeted you with mouths full of pie. Except him. He was leaning back in his chair with a dopey grin and bloodshot eyes, his plate clean and pie long gone. You figure the other three were on their second slice.

Your gaze lingered on him like it always did. That warm feeling in your chest returned, it always did when Rafe was around. It made you feel fidgety and nervous. Like a school girl with a crush. So typical it’s on your brother’s best friend. That thought brought you out of your Rafe induced haze. You walked over to where Mason stood as he ate the last crumbs from the pie tin.

You grabbed it from him with an eye roll, “Well I’m glad you boys enjoyed that. Lucky I made two more. They’re for church tomorrow.”

“You always make the good stuff for church,” Kelce mumbled with his eyes closed blissfully savoring the dessert.

You laughed, “Maybe if y’all went you’d get a slice.”

Mason shook his head at the boys, “Why do you think I go.”

Rafe snorted, “To stare at Thea Foster actually.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and muttered, “She has a boyfriend.”

You smirked placing a hand on his shoulder, “Well I heard there’s trouble in paradise.”

He turned quickly to you bewildered, “From who? When? Why?”

Rafe, Kelce, and Jake burst out laughing. Your poor brother was so in love with a woman he couldn’t have. Rafe understood his pain, but he couldn’t let Mason know that. When the boys quieted down you answered his question, “From Sarah Ann at the nail salon yesterday. She said Thea found fake lashes in his car and then a couple weeks later she followed him because he said he had a work emergency and sure enough he was meeting some girl from the city.”

“That fucker,” Your brother seethed, “I’ll thank him then kill him and then thank him for fucking up.”

You patted his chest as you past him to grab the boys dishes, “Relax big guy.”

“Let’s celebrate with a shot,” Jake said knocking on the table excitedly.

Kelce nodded, “My buzz is wearin off.”

Rafe shrugged watching as you placed the dishes in the sink, “Sure.”

He had smoked a whole joint by himself on the way here and he was still feeling the effects. Something that he had started to regret when you walked down the stairs. He thought you’d be asleep and you wouldn’t see him high and drunk. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him like that before, but he preferred to be sober around you.

Mason poured every one shots including you. Rafe looked up at you with a mischievous smile. The floaty feeling in his head making you look like an angel. Soft bare face and comfortable clothing. He imagines you waiting at home for him dressed like that. Waiting to have dinner together after a long day. That fantasy always made his heart clench.

Mason finished pouring the glasses and began handing them out. The amber liquid sloshed onto the table since he filled them all to the brim. You’d make him clean the kitchen tomorrow.

You looked up at Rafe and found him already looking at you. Your heart raced ou held up your shot glass with the guys. Mason went on about friendship and comradery. The two of you not looking away from each other. Feeling emboldened you didn’t look away not even when you felt your blush move down your cheeks to your neck and chest.

Everyone tipped back their glasses taking the shot. The liquid burning the pit of your stomach. You scrunched your nose in disgust, “ugh I hate whiskey.”

Rafe scratched the back of his head, “I need a cig.” He walked towards the stairs heading to the office. It was the best place to get onto the roof. A spot everyone liked to go to because it looked over the whole ranch.

You pointed at the dishes in the sink, “Wash those before bed. I’m gonna finish studying then go to bed so don’t be too loud.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mason teased.

The two of you had moved to the small town a five years ago. Mason found his dream job on the ranch they live on and his boss the owner, Mr. George, let the two of you stay at one if the houses on the property. You were just grateful to leave your hometown and your parents. Your brother always felt like your only family and when he asked you to come with him you didn’t hesitate. You started community college at the next town over and got a job at the local diner. You two had built community here. Your brother befriending the other ranch hands Rafe and Jake and the local bartender Kelce who had all become more like brothers to him.

-

As you made it up the stairs you passed the office and peered in. The cool summer breeze blowing in through the open window. You stood in the doorway for a few seconds contemplating whether to go out there or not.

When you met Rafe you felt all that ooey gooey stuff you had read about in romance novels. You thought it wasn’t real because it what world would a man make you feel like that. Your faith in the male species to sweep you off your feet had completely disappeared. Until you met him. It was a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach.

It didn’t help that he looked at you the same way. Or when he would do sweet things like buy you trinkets when he went out of town. He’d give you rides if Mason couldn’t and if he was around you never had to carry anything yourself.

Rafe always wanting to be near you if you were around and making sure you’re safe. When your brother had gone out of town he texted and called all weekend making sure you were safe. He almost got in his truck and slept outside your house to make sure nothing happened but he talked himself out of that.

You were his best friend’s little sister. He loved Mason and didn’t want to do anything that would ruin that. It took Rafe so long to rebuild his life in the small town he didn’t want to ruin it by hurting you. He would lose you and your brother.

You climbed through the window to see Rafe sitting on the ledge probably on his second cigarette. You watched as he tilted his head back and exhaled.

“ain’t anyone ever told you that those things will kill you,” You said with a smirk as you walked over to sit beside him.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Never had a good reason to quit.”

You held two fingers out for him motioning for him to place one between your fingers. He shook his head with a laugh as he got one from his almost empty pack.

You brought it up to your lips as he pulled the lighter out. Rafe cupped the end of the cigarette as he lit it. Your eyes watching him the whole time. Rafe fought every fiber of his being to not look at you or else he’d throw out the damn cigarette and kiss you. You didn’t know the power you held over him. He’d cross rivers, oceans, and valleys for you without a second thought.

“I’ll come with ya to church tomorrow,” He said breaking the silence. He doesn’t even know why he just said that. Rafe has never been religious and the only times he’s thought about it were when you showed up in his life.

Now you weren’t devout or anything but when you moved here it felt like a good place to interweave yourself into the town. The move also had you feeling a little lost so you went to where people always say they find something. You’re still not sure how you feel about it but you still go when you can. Your brother started joining you after a couple weeks.

You snorted, “I’m sure you will.”

“I’m serious I’ll go,” He bumped your shoulder with his.

You smiled at him, “Okay Rafey. Then I’m gonna make sure you go because I already know that you’re stayin the night.”

He looked at her with a playful scowl, “Who said I’m stayin?”

“You’re still stoned and you’ve had more whiskey,” You shook your head, “You’re stayin.”

“Whatever you say boss,” He flicked his cigarette off the roof after finishing it.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll get you up bright and early don’t worry.”

“As long as I get some more pie tomorrow.”

“I did make you something,” You flushed a bit at your next words, “I made you those peanut butter chocolate chip cookies you like. Hid them from the guys or they’d eat em all.”

“You’re so sweet,” He admitted, “those idiots wouldn’t savor them like me.”

You laughed softly trying not to look at him or you’d burst into flames, “So true. I’ll give em to you after church tomorrow.”

“S’that my reward?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “So you better behave.”

He was feeling bold now. After your shy confession he wanted to be bold. His fingers itched to touch you, “What happens if I don’t behave?”

Your eyes widened a bit not expecting him to say something like that. Did he mean it like that? You couldn’t over think this right now. The tension in the air thick and pushing the two of you closer together.

You shrugged, “I could show you right now.” You didn’t even know what you mean by that but before you could take your words back a voice behind you two broke whatever trance the two of you were in.

“Hey! Are you just gonna let the rest of us get wasted by ourselves or what!” Mason exclaimed as he stuck his head through the window.

Rafe snorted, “I’m comin jackass.”

“I better finish my assignments.” He climbed through the window and held his hand out for you as you stepped through.

“Can I ask a favor?” You asked him. The dim lighting in the office illuminating his face in a way that made him look like a Greek God.

“Anything,” He responded and Rafe truly meant anything.

You sighed, “So after church tomorrow I wanted to go to that book store in the city and Mason is gonna take me. But I don’t really want hungover grumpy Mason to take me,” Just then you heard a thud and loud laughs downstairs.

“Well you know ho-“

Before you could even continue he was nodding his head, “I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

You beamed up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile, “Thank you Rafey. I’ll be quick too.”

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders starting to walk you both out of the room, “None of that you can spend the whole day lookin and I won’t care.”

You looked away as your smile grew timid and that damn blush was back. He stopped in front of your bedroom and you already missed his warmth.

“You know where to find us when you wanna have some fun scholar,” He teased lightly.

“Yeah yeah. You know where the blankets are and please make sure that if those idiots want to go home they’re good to drive.”

He mock saluted at you, “Yes ma’am.”

Rafe constantly teased you about your over protection of the group of men. Truthfully he found it endearing because no one has cared so much for him. Even if it’s lumped in with your brother. None of you had family here so it was nice that the five of you had created your own.

As you sat back at your desk you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Honestly you never stopped but after seeing him it always amplified the thoughts. There’s nothing in this world that you wanted more than Rafe Cameron, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to act on it.

You didn’t want to ruin your relationship with your brother. He’s never been that overprotective but you had no idea how he’d be if you dated his best friend. So your fantasies of the tall cowboy remained as just that, fantasies.

-

If wrangling four six foot plus men to church would get that shocked look out of Mrs.Cramer you would have done it a long time ago. The old woman could hardly believe you got those ‘hooligans’ to come. The boys had a bit of a reputation. Not necessarily bad but they knew that if something was going on it was probably them.

Like when Jake drunkly rode a pony into the post office. Or when Mason accidentally left the pig pen open and there were thirty pigs loose in town.

The five of you were now back at your house. Rafe was waiting downstairs for you to finish changing. The other boys were drinking beer watching a baseball game. Mason was beyond grateful he didn’t have to take you anymore.

“I’m ready,” You announced while walking down the stairs. You had changed into your red boots, denim shorts, and a white tee shirt. Simple yet it had his mouth watering. Imagine what it’d be like to peel it all off. He needed to get it together.

“Be back later Mason,” You waved them goodbye before grabbing your purse. Rafe mumbled a bye as he followed after you like a puppy.

-

Not only did Rafe not complain about anything you did in the car but he also let you pick the music. He was having the time of his life. On the outside he looked concentrated on driving and completely unbothered.

“It’s right up there,” You pointed to the building coming up.

He pulled into the parking lot, “You been here before?”

“I have but it’s been a couple months.”

He parked and opened the door for you. The smile on your face making the forty five minute drive worth it.

Well forty five minutes later he was starting to get antsy. He swears he’s seen you make five circles around the fairly small book shop. He was sitting in a purple chair meant for reading. You had given him about six books and your purse to hold and you were still browsing. The only reason he was getting impatient was because he was hungry.

You walked over with two more books, “Okay now I need to narrow these down to just three.”

His brows furrowed, “Three?”

You nodded, “Tips were short this week and I had to use my savings to fix my laptop.”

He stood up holding the six books, “Come on lets go pay.”

You followed him trying to keep up with his long strides, “Uhhh did you not just hear me I can’t afford it Rafe.”

“That’s why I’m buying all of them for you,” He shrugged as if it were nothing.

“No no no,” You pulled his arm to stop him right before the counter, “You can’t do that, that’s too much.”

“You want them all right?”

“Well yeah but-“

“But nothing baby, I got you.” He turned to the counter where the cashier was waiting for the two of you to finish.

You stood behind a bit dumbfounded by not only his kindness but because of what he called you. Baby. That was new.

-

After a long day of book shopping, pizza eating, and laughing you were drained. On the way home you had fallen asleep, waking up once he turned onto the dirt road that led to your house.

You yawned, “We’re here already.”

“Yup and it looks like Mason’s not home.”

“Oh he texted me telling me he was going to a bonfire. We’re invited but I’d rather stay home.”

Rafe opened the door for you like he had been doing all day. He also held your heavy bag of books.

“Me either honestly.”

“You wanna watch a movie with me?” You asked hoping he’d say yes.

“I’d love to.”

You plopped yourself onto the couch to browse movies. Rafe set the books down on the kitchen table before joining you. Except he stood in front of you and grabbed your boot tugging it off each foot.

“Thank you Rafey,” You smiled at him.

You put on Twilight knowing he won’t care and secretly loves it. Today had been perfect. Rafe made you feel like the only person existing. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to be more than a friend and it was starting to pain you, but it was something you could live with for now.

A half hour later you had dozed off onto Rafe. Your leg draped over him and face tucked into his neck. His head leaning on yours and one hand in your hair the other around you. This was the best sleep Rafe had ever gotten. He could feel you all around him he didn’t want this to ever end.

Yet you both jolted awake when you heard the front creak open and voices following. Twilight had ended an hour ago and New Moon had started playing. You and Rafe broke a part trying to fix yourselves. A rosy tint to his cheeks as he peered over at you with a teasing smirk. You couldn’t help your blush either as you returned the mischievous smile.

“Hey you guys are back how’d it?” Mason asked as he walked into the living room with Kelce.

“It was good, got lots of new books,” You turned to Rafe with a knowing look.

“Hey is that,” Kelce pointed at something on your inner thigh. You had one leg bent so your inner thigh was facing up on display. An right on it was an impression of a long horn and some intricate designs. Everyone knew who had something that looked like that.

“How’d that get there?” Kelce asked with an amused smile as he pointed between your thigh and Rafe’s belt buckle. He burst into laughed as mason groaned.

“Guys I know y’all like have a thing for each other but I don’t wanna know that stuff,” Mason gagged.

“What Mase!” You groaned, “Nothing like that!”

Rafe laughed feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders, “Dude we fell asleep.”

“I sure hope so, not on my damn couch.”

You decided to mess with him, “Well if you insist.” You grabbed Rafe’s hand and laughed as you pulled him upstairs. He didn’t even hesitate following and also laughing.

You dragged him into your room turning so your back was to the door. Still holding your hand Rafe used the other to push the door closed. Walking you both back in the process so your back was against the closed door. One hand beside your head and the other moving from holding yours to holding your waist.

His head dipped down as your laughter died. Things suddenly felt serious and you realized how close he was and he was touching you. It felt really good.

“So uh sounds like Mason is okay with us,” Rafe murmured.

“Is that you confessing you like me?” You teased looking down at his lips.

He nodded causing your noses to brush, “Yeah I like you baby, can I make it anymore obvious.”

“Can you?”

He squeezed your waist with a smile before dipping down and finally molding his lips to yours. It was like being able to breathe for the first time. His mouth felt good against yours. He kissed you with desperation and need showing you just how long he’s wanted this. How he’s wanted it just as much as you.

Both his hands were now on your waist and traveling over your body feeling every dip and curve. The small whine you let out making him want to throw you onto your bed, but he promised himself if he ever had you he’d take his time. Savor every moment with you.

You pulled away breathless and drunk on him, “I like you too if you couldn’t tell.”

He pecked your lips, “I’ll buy you all the books you want just to hear that again.”

“I like you,” You leaned down up and kissed him again, “Now can we finish the twilight series?”

[honeyryewhiskey]

Eight years ago, you walked away from Montana—away from the sprawling ranchlands, the smell of fresh-cut hay, and the boy who swore he'd love you ‘til the day they put him in the ground. You built a new life, one far from dusty backroads and rodeo lights, far from the memories that still linger like the scent of rain on dry earth.

But now, you’re back. Not to stay, not to rekindle anything long lost—just to settle unfinished business. One last trip home to sign the divorce papers, to finally close the door on a past that’s been waiting for you to turn the key.

Beau Arlen was never the type to beg, but he's wrangled enough steers to know how to chase what didn’t want to be caught. He’s not making this easy. Because he’s still the same stubborn, maddening, sweet-talking cowboy who stole your heart all those years ago. And the way he looks at you now—like nothing’s changed, like he still sees the fire in you even when you swear it burned out long ago—makes you wonder if leaving was ever really the right choice.

You came back to let go. But some things, some loves, don’t die easy. And Beau—he was never one to give up without a fight.

warnings — second chance romance trope, i never stopped loving you vs the self-sabotage lover, reader is all fire and spark, beau basks in that warmth with a smile on his face lyrics — tattoos by tyler childers 10k words

Cousin Cheyenne’s house is louder than you remember—fuller, busier, like it’s been bursting at the seams ever since you left. The wooden floors tremble under the thunder of little feet, shrieks piercing the air one after another.

Still blinking sleep from your eyes, you shuffle down the hall just as Carson barrels past, his younger siblings, the twins are hot on his heels, their laughter mingling with the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.

Tillie, struggling to keep up with her brothers, wobbles around the corner, her too-big nightgown dragging at her ankles. She beams up at you with a gap-toothed grin, pigtails bouncing. “Mornin’, Auntie!”

Before you can respond, Cheyenne’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Y’all take it outside before you break somethin’!”

A second later, she appears, the baby of the bunch balanced effortlessly on her hip, her chubby fist clutching a half-eaten pancake. There’s flour smeared across her cheek, batter splattered on her shirt, but the amused glint in her eyes says she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The twins groan but obey, scrambling toward the back door—nearly knocking over Arleigh, who’s leaning against the fridge, scrolling through her phone. She lets out a long-suffering sigh, rolling her eyes so hard she might sprain something.

Tillie latches onto your pajama pants, looking up at you with big, hopeful eyes. “Auntie, tell ‘em to quit runnin’ from me!”

You sigh, prying her tiny fingers from your leg and nudging her toward the back porch, where the dogs have joined the morning mayhem. “Not my battle, tuts.”

Cheyenne smirks as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel. She’s still watching you—that look that says she’s got a million and one questions—but, for now, she keeps them to herself.

“You’re up early,” she remarks.

You gesture vaguely at the chaos around you. The house had been clean when you arrived late last night, when all the littles were tucked in and only the low hum of the TV filled the quiet. Now, toys litter the floor like battlefield debris, muddy boots and paw prints track through every room, and even with the kids outside, their shouts still seep through the walls.

“Hard to sleep through the circus,” you mutter.

Cheyenne snorts and slides a mug of coffee across the kitchen island toward you. “Welcome home.”

The words land heavier than they should. You drop your gaze, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic, staring into the dark swirl of coffee as if it holds an answer you’re not ready to face. Home. You’re still figuring out what that means.

Clearing your throat, you watch Cheyenne putter around the kitchen while you take a slow sip, letting the caffeine work its way through your system.

“Beau still working at his daddy’s ranch?”

Cheyenne freezes, her back to you, fingers tightening around the dish towel in her hands. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she turns to her oldest, passing baby Ginny into the girl’s waiting arms. “Arleigh, sweetheart, can you get her cleaned up for me?”

Arleigh hesitates, her big brown eyes flicking between you and her mother, catching on to the shift in energy at the mere mention of his name. She may not understand the full weight of it, but she knows enough to tread lightly. “Sure, Mama.”

You watch as she carries Ginny down the hall, the soft sound of her murmuring to the baby disappearing behind a closed door.

Only then does Cheyenne turn to you, arms folding tight across her chest. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s a sharpness in her gaze, one that warns you she isn’t about to entertain any bullshit. “Beau’s not at the ranch,” she says evenly. “He’s the new sheriff. Took over from Old Man Ray last year.”

You blink. Beau Arlen—your Beau— all cleaned up and sharp, walking around with a shiny gold badge. You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Is that so?”

Cheyenne hums, unimpressed. “Mhm.” She tilts her head, studying you like she’s trying to pick apart your intentions before you can even say them. “Please tell me you aren’t planning to walk in there and slap those papers down the second you see him.”

Your fingers tighten around your coffee mug, the warmth seeping into your palms, grounding you against the weight of her disapproval. “Chey, I came here for one reason,” you say, your voice firm but not unkind. “I’d like to just get it over with.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head as she turns back to the counter. “That man hasn’t seen you in eight years, and you’re just gonna waltz into his office and crush his heart all over again?” She doesn’t look at you as she speaks, pouring all that frustration into scrubbing an invisible stain from the worn wooden surface.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m sure Beau’s just as eager as I am to get rid of this damn thing.”

Cheyenne’s hand stills. Slowly, she turns, pinning you with a look that cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. “Damn thing,” she echoes, voice softer now, but no less pointed. “I think you’re forgetting who we’re talking about here.”

Something uneasy flickers through you, but you push past it, draining the last of your coffee and setting the mug down with a quiet clink. “The office still in the same place?”

Cheyenne watches you for a long moment before sighing, tossing the rag into the sink with a wet slap. “Sure is.”

The sheriff’s office looks just about the same as it always has—plain walls, scuffed floors, the faint scent of burnt coffee lingering in the air. The only difference now is the girl sitting at the front desk, chewing her gum loud enough to hear from across the room. She looks young, early twenties maybe, with a messy ponytail and nails painted a bright, chipped pink.

She doesn’t acknowledge you right away, too busy clicking away at her keyboard with a pointedly bored expression. You clear your throat and step forward, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Hi, I was hoping to see Beau Arlen.”

The girl doesn’t so much as glance up. She just hums, shaking her head. “Sheriff’s mighty busy,” she says, dragging out the words like she’s said them a hundred times today. “I can redirect you to one of the officers if it’s urgent.”

You exhale through your nose, already feeling the dull throb of frustration settle in. “I’d really prefer to speak with him directly.”

Another absent shake of the head. “Sorry, ma’am, but the sheriff don’t see just anyone without an appointment.” She pops her gum, eyes still fixed on her screen. “If you’d like, I can set you up for later this week.”

Later this week. Yeah, no.

You press your lips together, glancing toward the frosted glass door at the far end of the room. You can just barely make out the shape of a desk, the outline of a man moving behind it. Your stomach tightens, an old, worn-out kind of ache settling in your chest. You’d expected this part to be easier—just walking in, handing over the papers, and walking right back out. No dramatics. No feelings. No Beau looking at you like you’d stolen the breath right out of his lungs.

But standing here now, waiting for some disinterested secretary to dismiss you for a third time, you realize nothing about this was ever going to be easy.

You take a slow breath, adjusting your stance. “Why don’t you go tell the sheriff…” you hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second before forcing the words out. “That his wife is here to see him.”

That does it.

The girl stills, fingers frozen over her keyboard. Her jaw pops once as she chews, processing, and then, finally, she turns her head to look at you. Her gaze sweeps over you with open curiosity. It’s no secret that Beau married young, less of a secret that his pretty little wife skipped town eight years ago. You see the rumor mill ticking behind her eyes, and you’re sure the whole damn town will know that you’ve come back the second she gets a chance to open her phone. 

You don’t flinch. Rather, you’re trying not to roll your eyes at her blatant stare. 

With a lingering glance, she slowly rises from her chair, heels clicking against the linoleum as she scurries over to the closed door, Sheriff printed across the front in large black letters. There’s a pause, you catch movement through the cracked door. 

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself as you straighten your back, shoulders pulling tight with the effort to appear unaffected. Folding your arms across your chest, you press your fingers into your skin, as if the pressure might anchor you, might keep the past from creeping in any further. But it’s useless—the way your pulse stutters betrays you, a telltale flutter deep in your chest, quick and uneven. 

The door swings open, and the girl steps out quickly, barely concealing the spark of interest in her eyes. She doesn’t even pretend to go back to her work, instead leaning back in her chair, eyes bouncing between you and the office like she’s settling in for a front-row seat to a long-lost lovers' showdown.

You hear his boots before you see him, easy slow strides as he comes into view.

Beau leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, the buckle of his belt catching the dim office light. He’s changed, but not in a way that feels unfamiliar. His hair is a little shorter than you remember, a few more lines around his eyes, a scruff along his jaw that wasn’t there before. The years have settled into him well, the boyish charm aged into something deeper, something steadier.

He whistles low, shaking his head just slightly, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. His gaze doesn’t stray from you, pinning you in place.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawls with that devil-may-care smile.

That voice—it yanks you straight back in time. . .

Back to a sticky summer night at the county fair, when you were fourteen and ran headfirst into a boy who stole the breath right out of your lungs. 

The fairgrounds had been alive with energy, buzzing with laughter and the squeals of kids clutching cotton candy bigger than their heads. The bright lights of the Ferris wheel spun lazily against the deep violet sky, the scent of funnel cakes and kettle corn thick in the warm air. Somewhere in the distance, a band played, the twang of a banjo and the wail of a harmonica weaving through the night.

You hadn’t been paying attention, too caught up chasing after Cheyenne who was sprinting toward the ticket booth, laughter spilling between you. One second, you were hurrying after her, and the next—

Oof.

You smacked into something—someone—solid, knocking yourself back a step. Hands caught you before you could stumble in the dirt, steadying you with an easy strength.

“You alright there, sweetheart?”

Your stomach flipped at the slow southern drawl, a voice you recognized before you even looked up.

Beau was the new upperclassman from Texas, the one everyone had been whispering about ever since his Daddy’s pick up truck rolled into your small town. The Arlen’s, who bought up a few hundred acres to fill with cattle. Beau—their pride and joy—with the pretty green eyes, the lazy, lopsided grin, the kind of voice that dripped honey and heat.

You’d only ever seen him from afar before—leaning against the hood of his truck in the school parking lot, at a bonfire party with one of the pretty senior girls clinging to his arm. Always surrounded by people, always grinning like he had the world in his back pocket.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering, and for the first time in your little life, you didn’t know what to say.

He grinned like he could read you clear as day. Watching through his lashes as your cheeks turned pink. “Didn’t mean to knock the wind outta ya,” he teased, his hands still loose around your arms. “Though I gotta say, I’ve never had a girl throw herself at me quite like that before.”

Your face burned, and just like that, your words came rushing back. “I did not throw myself at you,” you shot back, the heels of your boots digging into the ground as you stepped back some. 

Beau arched a brow, like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “That so?”

You huffed, straightening your posture, trying to shake off the way your pulse was still racing. “You were just… in the way.”

His grin doesn’t waver as he watches you, that knowing glint in his eye like he’s already got you figured out. He pulls off his brick cattleman hat, pressing it to his chest with an easy charm, the other hand stretching out toward you in introduction.

"Beau Arlen," he says smoothly, voice as rich and warm as the summer air around you. "And you are?"

You let out a soft scoff, tilting your head as you cross your arms over your chest. "Yeah, I know who you are," you shake your head like the idea of introducing himself is ridiculous. "Everyone in the damn county knows who you are."

That earns a low chuckle from him, deep and amused, as he sets his hat back on his head, adjusting the brim with an easy nod. "Yeah?" he muses, looking at you with something close to intrigue dancing behind his green eyes. "Well, I’ve heard about you too."

You blink, caught off guard. Your arms drop slightly, curiosity flickering across your face as you search his expression. "Oh yeah?" you ask, cautious but undeniably intrigued.

"Mhm," he hums, rocking back on his heels, taking his time as he lets the words settle between you. "Spitfire of a girl, headstrong as they come. Got a way with words that'll put a grown man in his place." His smirk deepens as he watches your reaction, the weight of his gaze settling on you like he’s waiting to see if the rumors match the real thing. "Sounds about right?"

You narrow your eyes at him, though there’s a pull at the corner of your lips that you try to fight. "Depends on who's been runnin’ their mouths."

He chuckles again, slow and easy, as if he’s enjoying this more than he probably should. "Only folks who know what they’re talkin’ about."

You can’t keep your eyes on his, a match you never thought you’d cross in all of Montana. You glance down at your dress, fidgeting with the hem. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Maybe,” he mused, eyes dancing over you without any damn shame in it. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans, drawing your eyes to his shrugging shoulders. You never had the opportunity to really look at him, up close like this, and you couldn’t help but notice the evident strength in his arms and shoulders. The result of the kinda life where he learned how to rope a dummy calf before he knew his ABCs. 

His smooth chuckle brings your attention back to his lips, “But I think I like it just fine right here.”

That night at the county fair stretched on, the kind of summer night that settled deep in your bones, the kind that felt like it could last forever.

After your collision, Beau should’ve walked away. Should’ve tipped his hat, flashed that lazy grin, and gone about his night. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stuck around.

You felt his eyes on you as you trailed after Cheyenne, her sharp little smirk letting you know she’d clocked everything the second she turned around and found you breathless, face flushed. She didn’t say anything—yet—but you knew that look. Knew she’d be digging into you for details the second you were alone.

The county fair was the biggest event of the year, crawling with people, but somehow—Beau and his rowdy crew kept popping up everywhere you turned.

It started at the rodeo pens, where you and Cheyenne were watching the bull riders, the air thick with excitement and the distant sound of hooves pounding against dirt. Beau leaned against the railing a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest, that familiar smirk playing on his lips every time your eyes happened to meet.

Bailey Bassett, standing next to him, elbowed Beau in the ribs and muttered something that made Beau’s laugh rise up low and steady, though the announcer's voice drowned out the words.

Then Hayes Pomeroy, always trying to be helpful but usually just making things worse, turned just enough so you had to hear him over the crowd. “You gonna talk to her, or just stare like a damn fool all night?”

You turned your head just in time to catch the look Beau shot at the snickering brunette. The fire in his gaze could’ve burned through a hundred barns, and you couldn’t help but bite back a smirk at the sight. Hayes might have a death wish, but at least it was entertaining.

Then came the fried Oreos.

You were happily minding your business, trying to act like the grease-drenched dessert wasn’t the best thing you’d ever tasted, when you heard that familiar drawl creep up beside you.

“You mind sharing some of that, miss?”

You didn’t even have to look up. You could feel his presence before he even spoke, settling into the picnic bench beside you like he always had a spot next to you. His arm pressed against yours, warm, solid. The rest of his crew—Bailey, Hayes, and Austin—crowded Cheyenne's side of the bench, as if they had all joined in a game of make-your-best-friend-uncomfortable.

You rolled your eyes but slid the paper tray between you anyway, trying to act like it didn’t matter that your heart had skipped a beat. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed one, and your pulse did that stuttered thing it always did when he was near. He took a slow bite, deep-fried chocolate and powdered sugar clinging to his lips as he stared at you like he knew exactly what it did to you.

Across the table, Hayes groaned dramatically, leaning back in his seat. “God, I can’t watch this.”

“Then don’t,” Beau drawled without breaking eye contact with you, chewing thoughtfully as if there weren't eyes watching from across the table.

Austin leaned over to Bailey, “This is like watchin’ one of my Nan’s romance movies happen in real-time.”

Bailey snickered, giving his buddy a knowing glance. “She’s fightin’ it, but she’s doomed.”

Cheyenne, sipping her lemonade, grinned like a cat that caught the canary. “Ain’t it great?”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a napkin at her, but the laughter from the table only made her grin wider. The night spun on, the fair alive with neon lights and the chaotic hum of people. But no matter where you went, whether you were trying to escape to the petting zoo or drag Cheyenne over to the concession stand, Beau was there. He wasn’t pushing. Not outright following, but somehow he always seemed to find a way to be near. It wasn’t anything obvious—just a subtle presence that hung around, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time the Ferris wheel loomed overhead, its lights blinking in the dark like stars that had wandered too far from home, Cheyenne turned to you with that saccharine-sweet smile she saved for moments of pure, unadulterated mischief.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” she cooed, her voice dripping with innocence—way too much innocence.

You barely had time to glare at her before your attention snapped back to the sound of Beau’s boots on the gravel. He’d been leaning against a nearby post like he was just casually waiting for the world to come to him, but now he pushed off and strolled toward you like he had nowhere better to be.

“Well,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning over you with that same easy grin he always wore. “Looks like you need a partner, huh?”

From behind him, the boys—who’d clearly been watching this play out like they were in the front row of a damn rodeo—made their bets.

Hayes was first to pitch in, his voice loud enough for you to hear from a mile away, “Bet you ten bucks she says no.”

Bailey, ever the optimist, shook his head. “Nah, she’s gone. Look at her.”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow, tossing a look between you and Beau before throwing a dangerous grin at the guys. “I’ll bet all of you twenty that those two get married.”

Austin, ever the realist, just chuckled and shook his head, clearly not willing to make any bets. “Yeah, right, your cousin’s one helluva girl, Chey, but Beau’s got his pick of the litter.”

“And that look in his eye says he’s seeing nothing else but her,” Cheyenne shot back, her voice laced with confidence.

Beau just stood there, that smirk of his not going anywhere as he waited, knowing full well what was going through your head.

You wanted to say no. Wanted to roll your eyes, tell him he was full of himself, tell Cheyenne she was the worst for setting you up like this. Tell the laughing bunch of idiots to mind their own. Because your heart was hammering harder than it ever had—worse than the first time you were bucked off the back of a horse.

But you don't.

You let him lead you to the Ferris wheel, let him help you into the cart even though you didn’t need the help, let yourself feel the warmth of him next to you as the ride carried you higher and higher.

The Ferris wheel rocked gently as it climbed higher, the town stretching out below in a warm sprawl of wide pastures and glowing lights from the fairgrounds. From up here, the world felt small, the hum of carnival rides and laughter muffled by the height. 

You swallowed, gripping the cool metal bar in front of you, trying not to fidget under the weight of his gaze. Beau was leaning back, one arm slung over the seat like he had all the time in the world, his knee knocking into yours every time the cart swayed.

“Didn’t take you for the shy type,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

You scoffed, keeping your eyes on the blinking lights of the fairground. “I’m not shy.”

His smirk deepened, slow and knowing. “Oh, I know,” he drawled. “Just don’t think you’ve ever had a boy look at you the way I’m lookin’ at you now.”

Your fingers curled against the peeling paint of the safety bar as your stomach flipped—not from the height, not from the way the Ferris wheel jolted slightly as it came to a stop at the very top, but from him. From that voice, thick as molasses, and the way his green eyes traced your face like he was memorizing every little thing about you.

He was two years older, always just a step ahead, but never far enough to be out of reach. 

After that night at the fair that pull between you was magnetic—unspoken but undeniable. Like gravity, like instinct, like something stitched into the fabric of who you were.

It started small. Brushing shoulders in crowded hallways, stolen glances across the stands at a football game, the way he’d always find you at a party, beer in hand, offering it to you with that slow, knowing grin.

Then it grew. Late-night drives down empty roads, the radio humming between easy conversation. Sitting on the tailgate of his truck, passing a bottle back and forth, watching the stars blink awake. Him showing up unannounced, leaning against your porch railing like he belonged there, just to ask, “You busy?”—and the answer was always no, not for him.

At every bonfire party, leaning against his truck with that slow, easy confidence, eyes locked on you as you twirled around with Cheyenne, laughter spilling into the night. Running out of his family’s barn to greet you in the driveway, always opening your car door for you, pulling you into a hug that left the scent of hay and dust clinging to your clothes. At the gas station on slow summer nights, leaving his truck door open as he filled the tank, saying something so damn funny it had you laughing until you snorted—something he never let you live down.

You grew up tangled in each other’s lives, inextricable. Beau was the first boy who ever made your heart stutter, the first set of hands you trusted to catch you when you fell. He was there when you turned sixteen, sneaking you out to the lake, exploring each other’s bodies beneath the moonlight while the cicadas sang. He was there at eighteen, always ready to hold you in his arms whenever the weight of the future pressed heavy on your shoulders.

No matter where life tugged you—through the petty bickering, breaking up one week just to get back together the next—you always found your way back to each other. Because you were Beau and he was you, because from that first night at the fair, something had settled into place.

And neither of you ever really let it go.

And now, even after you’ve spent more time apart than together, he’s standing in front of you again—older, broader, wearing the years like they did him a favor. The sharp angles of youth have settled into a sweet, defined ruggedness. The way he looks at you hasn’t changed—like he still knows you better than you know yourself.

Your fingers curl at your sides as you force yourself to stand still under his gaze, to not fidget under the weight of history pressing between you.

You swallow hard, shaking the heavy thoughts loose before clearing your throat. “Beau.”

His smile stays put, but something flickers behind those green eyes—something softer, something cautious. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, voice quieter now, rougher around the edges.

The warmth in his drawl tugs at something in your chest, something you thought you’d buried a long time ago. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to stay focused, to not get swept up in the sound of him.

Movement beside you catches your attention—the secretary, still perched at her desk, now leaning just slightly forward, chin propped in her hand, watching the two of you like she’s already writing the town gossip in her head.

You sigh, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Think we could talk somewhere private?”

Beau doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, long and steady, like he’s trying to piece together what the hell you’re doing here after all this time. Like he’s debating whether or not he wants to open that door again.

Eventually, he exhales through his nose, something unreadable passing over his face before he gives a slow shake of his head. Then, with a tilt of his chin, he steps back, pushing off the doorframe.

“After you, darlin’.”

And just like that, the past isn’t just a memory anymore. It’s standing right in front of you, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

You step inside, the scent of old paper greeting you as the door clicks shut behind you. The office is simple—wood-paneled walls, a heavy desk, a few dusty plaques hanging crooked. It suits him.

Beau goes over to the desk but doesn’t sit, just leans against the edge, arms loosely crossed as he watches you expectantly. You clear your throat, shifting your weight as you reach into your bag. The rustle of papers fills the quiet, and your pulse pounds as you pull out the documents, gripping them tighter than necessary.

“So,” you start, unfolding them with stiff fingers. “These are, um—” You exhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Divorce papers.”

Beau doesn’t move right away. He just takes them from your hands, his brows pulling together as he flips through the pages. The silence stretches, thick and unyielding, as he skims over the fine print.

Your mouth is already running before you can stop it. “I know it’s been a long time, and I should’ve handled this sooner, but—well, life happened, and I’m moving south soon so I figured it was time, and I thought—” You huff a humorless laugh, rubbing your palm over your forehead. “I just figured I should finally do the right thing and bring these to you in person.”

Beau hums, still looking down at the papers, expression unreadable. Then, just as you’re bracing for him to say something—anything—he glances up and asks, “You been riding much these days?”

You blink. “What?”

“Horses,” he clarifies, flipping a page absently. “You still riding?”

You stare at him, momentarily thrown off balance. Here you are, standing in front of him with legal proof of the one thing still tying you together, and he’s asking about horses?

Your lips part, then close. Then part again before you shake your head, exasperated. “Beau, are you serious?”

His mouth quirks, just the faintest bit, before he shrugs. “It’s a simple question, darlin’.”

You let out a sharp breath, pressing your fingers to your temples. Of course. Of course, this is how he’s handling this.

Some things never change.

You huff out a sharp, “No,” crossing your arms, your irritation bubbling over. 

Beau doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smirk. Without so much as a glance at the papers, he tosses them onto the desk beside him, the pages fanning out in a crumpled heap. Then, he braces his hands on the wood, leaning in just enough to shrink the space between you.

“Remember Indigo?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

Your breath catches.

Of course, you remember Indigo. The dapple-gray mare with the bright blue eyes and a stubborn streak as wide as the county line. She was your first real show horse, the one you begged your parents for when you were twelve, the one you spent years training, the one who knew your moods better than anyone else.

The one you left behind when you left Beau.

Your throat tightens, and you will yourself not to look away. But Beau’s watching you too closely now, his gaze full of something unreadable, something that makes your chest ache.

“Yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard. “I remember.”

Beau leans back slightly, his hands pressing down on the edge of his desk as his gaze shifts to something distant, something hidden beneath that easy smile of his. "Got a whole lotta of offers for her after you left," he says, the words slipping out with a quiet, almost reluctant tone. His eyes flicker to you briefly, his gaze softening just a fraction. "But none of ‘em were good enough."

Your chest tightens, but you don’t let him see it, just nodding as you let the silence stretch for a moment.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, the sound a little bitter. "Ramsey Wilcox—hell, he was the worst of 'em all. Wouldn't leave me alone for weeks. I caught him at the bar one night—he's leanin’ against the counter, shootin' the shit with me, talkin’ ‘bout work and life, y’know, all that normal bullshit." Beau's lips curl in a playful sneer at the thought, his fingers rubbing at his jaw as he recalls the memory. "Then he pulls out his damn wallet. Thought he was showin' me a picture of his kids or something, but nah—he pulls out this check. Fifty grand, darlin'. Fifty thousand dollars, with Indigo written right there on the ‘for’ line."

You don’t even think about it. You cut in without hesitation. “She’s worth a whole lot more than that.”

Beau laughs, and the sound is easy, genuine—a warmth that you can feel even in the space between you. He nods, agreeing with you. "Hell, don’t I know. I told him that, too." But then his eyes narrow just a touch, and his expression shifts, like he’s thinking back to that moment—back to the guy with the check and the offer that tried to strip away a part of his world.

You raise an eyebrow, still waiting for him to tell you what he did next. “So what’d you do with that pretty penny?” you ask, trying to steel your tone, keep it light despite the anger seeping into your bones.

Beau holds your gaze for a long, drawn-out moment. His brows crease as he studies you, wracking his brain. He looks almost hurt by the words, but it’s gone as he shakes his head slowly.

"Took a sip of my beam," he starts, his voice low and deliberate, "and poured the rest of it right on that damn check. Just ruined it, right then and there."

A chuckle escapes him, but it’s not lighthearted like before—it’s something deeper. Something that only he understands. His eyes are warmer now, softer, as he reminisces, and you find yourself leaning in, waiting for him to continue.

"Little Miss Indigo’s got herself a nice pasture now, better than the paddock we fixed up for her when we first got the house," he says, his smile returning but in a quieter, more nostalgic way. "Course, she shares it with ‘ol Bud."

Your brows furrow as you glance toward the window, trying to process everything in that statement. Indigo—your horse. The one you left behind when you left Beau, the one you thought would be forgotten like so many other things in your past. You never imagined she’d still be there, still cared for as if no time had passed.

Beau looks at you with that same familiar, knowing gaze, as if nothing had changed. The years didn’t seem to have done much to him—he was still Beau, the guy who always had a story to tell, who never seemed to give a damn what anyone thought, who had a quiet way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room.

And even now, after all this time, all those miles apart—it felt like you were still tethered to him in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

Your lips part, then press together as you blink at him. A quiet sort of disbelief settles in your chest, like you hadn’t expected him to say that.

Beau just watches you, still leaning back against the desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. His smile lingers, but there’s something else there now, something softer—something that twists in your gut.

"You kept her," you say, almost to yourself.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "’Course I kept her. What kinda man do you take me for?"

You look down, your fingers curling at your sides, heat creeping up your neck. You don’t know how to answer that—not when you were the one who left.

Beau doesn’t push. He just tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to read between the lines of everything you’re not saying. 

"You retired Bud?"

His grin deepens, eyes flashing with something smug. "Sure did, old bastard did good on the ranch. He came home with me last year, when I took up this new job."

There’s something dangerously warm settling in your chest. The kind of warmth you don’t know what to do with. Because even after all this time, even after all the miles and mistakes between you—Beau never really let go of the things that mattered.

Beau sighs, the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air as he shifts his weight back to his feet, walking over to the window. His back is turned to you now, but you can still feel his presence in the room—every inch of him is alive with quiet tension. The space between you seems to stretch, but there’s something magnetic pulling you in, as it always had.

He glances over his shoulder at you, his eyes still distant but the corners of his lips pulling into a half-smile, like he knows he’s already got you. “How ‘bout I take you to see the ‘ol girl?” His voice is steady, though it holds that same depth of nostalgia, the same gravity that has always drawn you closer to him.

Your chest tightens, a hesitant laugh escaping your lips as you bite your bottom lip, looking over at the divorce papers sitting on his desk. “Beau, I—”

He turns fully now, his gaze landing back on the papers, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you pause. His brow furrows as he watches the way you hesitate. It’s like he’s waiting for you to fight it, for you to push back one last time. But his voice, when it comes again, is softer, coaxing. “Then we can talk about me signin’ those papers of yours.”

The air between you thickens as you absorb his words. He’s still giving you an out, but you know it’s not an out you can take—not anymore. You’ve spent so much time avoiding this moment, but now it’s right here, hanging between you both like a thread that’s just about to snap. And it’s funny, you realize, how every time you came back to him, it never felt like you were going backward. It always felt like you were just finding your way home.

You swallow hard, your fingers curling around the divorce papers, tucking them back into your bag. Your gaze lifts to meet his. His face is unreadable, but in his eyes, you can see it—he’s offering you something far more important than just a tour of the pasture. He’s offering you the chance to fix the one thing that’s always been left broken.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice quieter than you expect, but it carries the weight of everything that’s unsaid between you. You feel the tension in your chest release, the knot loosening, and you take a slow step forward.

Beau’s lips twitch upward, a flicker of something soft passing through his eyes. He nods once, like he’s accepting your unspoken surrender, but he doesn’t make a big deal of it. Instead, he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and swings it over his shoulders with that same easy, practiced movement you’ve always known. “Alright then,” he mutters, his voice a touch lighter now. “Let’s go.”

The drive to Beau’s place is quiet, the hum of the truck's engine lulling you into a strange calm. You watch the passing scenery but it doesn’t seem to register at first—too much noise, too many memories, too many feelings trying to fight their way through. The road seems to stretch endlessly, but it doesn’t feel like the long, winding path you remember from the past. It feels different now. Like the past is catching up to you, inch by inch.

And when you finally see the house again, your breath catches in your throat. It’s like seeing a ghost—something so familiar, but so far out of reach. You’re standing at the edge of something, a threshold you can’t quite cross. You feel out of place here, like there’s no space for you to fit anymore. The house, the land, the memories—all of it seems to hold its breath, waiting for you to step back into it. But you know the truth, the one Beau’s been side stepping for the past hour—you don’t belong here anymore.

Beau doesn’t say a word when he parks the truck, leaving the engine running for just a moment. His presence fills the air around you, and you can almost hear his thoughts as you both sit there in the quiet. It’s like he’s giving you space, allowing you to sort through whatever it is that’s twisting inside you.

Then, the door opens and he steps out, his boots crunching softly against the gravel as he walks to the passenger side. He pauses, standing still for just a beat before your door is creaking open. His eyes, patient and careful, lock onto yours as he leans against the side of the truck, waiting for you to climb out.

You move without bothering to say a word, because at this moment, you don’t need to. It’s like every step you take toward that house is one step closer to finding something you’d forgotten.

The house is still standing, unchanged in some ways, but you can see the subtle signs of age, of time catching up. The porch creaks underfoot as you walk up to it, your feet feeling too light, too heavy all at once. Beau follows behind you, a quiet presence that gives you the room to breathe.

But when you look out toward the pasture, you see her.

Indigo.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight. Her spotted coat glows in the late afternoon sun, the dapples of grey and white shimmering like they always did. She’s grazing lazily in the field, her movements graceful, as if time had never passed. The sight of her steadies you, somehow grounding you in the moment. Your discomfort starts to melt away, like the world slows down for just a second. She’s still here. She’s still yours.

Without thinking, your feet carry you across the front lawn toward the fence. Beau watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement with the same careful attention he’s always had. As you reach the fence, you place your hand against the rough wood, the memories flooding back with every touch. Indigo’s head lifts, ears flicking in your direction. She trots over, a soft whinny escaping her as she noses into your palm, a familiar warmth that makes your heart ache with the depth of everything you’ve left behind.

Beau is beside you then, standing close enough for your arms to brush, his hand coming to rest gently on Indigo’s neck. He speaks softly to her, words you can’t quite make out, but the affection in his voice is unmistakable. You watch, mesmerized by the tenderness between him and your horse, feeling like an intruder in a life that could have been yours.

Then, as if remembering you’re there, Beau nudges your shoulder, his teasing smile returning. It’s easy, familiar—like nothing’s changed. “C’mon,” he says, the words low and laced with that hint of mischief you’ve always known so well. “Let’s get you saddled up.”

The warm afternoon sun filters through the trees as you and Beau ride through the trails behind his house, the quiet sounds of the horses’ hooves striking the dirt mingling with the chorus of birds overhead. The terrain out here is rugged, the trails winding through dense woods before opening up to rocky outcroppings and wide, sweeping views of the distant mountains. The earth smells rich, like the pine trees and fresh moss, and it’s easy to lose yourself in the rhythm of the ride, in the way the air feels on your face, crisp but gentle.

With that well-worn felt hat atop his head, the brim tilted just enough to shade his eyes, he looks so much like the Beau you knew. The one who lived for long days under the sun, for the smell of fresh-cut hay and the burn of whiskey after dark. He’s settled deep in the saddle, moving with easy confidence, the way he always did. Like he was born to be there. Like the saddle was just another part of him.

And that horse—the sleek Arabian beneath him—you remember the day he got Bud. He was too wild at first, too quick-footed, and for weeks, you watched Beau learn every quirk and stubborn streak he had, determined to turn him into a proper cattle horse. He swore up and down he’d never trust anything but a quarter horse, but damn if he didn’t rise to the challenge anyway. And now, watching him guide Bud through the tall grass with nothing but the shift of his weight and the sure pull of the reins, you can tell he’s as much a part of Beau as that damn hat.

For a moment, it’s like you’ve been thrown back in time. You can almost hear the reckless laughter of your younger selves, the way he used to tip his hat at you like he was some kind of cowboy out of a storybook, always playing at being larger than life. But that boy isn’t just a memory—he’s right here, riding beside you. He’s older, sure, a little more worn by time, the lines at the corners of his eyes a little deeper, but the heart of him—the thing that made him Beau—that’s still there.

Then, breaking the silence between you, Beau speaks up, his voice cutting through the peaceful backdrop.

“So, how’s the vet tech work been?” he asks casually, his gaze still forward as he guides his horse around a sharp bend in the trail.

It catches you off guard, and he can see it in the way your brows furrow when you glance over at him. He chuckles softly, a little nervous, like he’s realizing he might’ve just cracked a door open on something he wasn’t sure he should.

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, his voice a bit flustered now. “Probably should mention that Chey’s been keeping me posted on what you’ve been gettin’ up to over in Washington.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, a small sigh slipping out. Of course, Cheyenne has—she can’t help herself when it comes to you and Beau. She’s always been the bridge between the two of you, passing on every little detail. She’s always had a habit of rambling on about something special, something sacred existing between the two of you.

You made her stop talking like that a long time ago, on one of your darker nights, when the mere mention of his name made you angrier than you cared to admit. Still, you can’t help the surprise that Beau even cared enough to listen to those updates.

His eyes flick to you briefly, like he can read the shift in your mood, sensing the storm brewing behind your gaze. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours too much,” he adds softly. “She never tells me anything too personal. Just the milestones. You know, little tidbits here and there.”

You nod, trying to shake the tension that suddenly tightens in your chest. “Uh, well, it’s been good,” you answer after a beat. “I’ve been busy. Mostly small animal care, but a lot of emergencies. It’s intense, but I love it.”

Beau nods, his expression thoughtful, but there’s something else there too—quiet curiosity, the kind you haven’t seen in years. “Yeah? That’s good. Chey mentioned something about you helping with a few surgeries and—”

You feel the need to steer the conversation in a different direction before it gets too personal. You turn your gaze back to the trail ahead, focusing on the winding path that stretches out before you. “Well, actually, I’m heading to Colorado soon. Been thinking about making a move. Looking for something new. I think I’ll be able to get a job at one of the bigger animal hospitals down there. It feels like the next step.”

Beau nods again, absorbing the news, but before he can say anything, you feel a sudden surge of courage bubbling up in your chest. The question has been sitting there since the moment you saw him again, unanswered and waiting.

“What about you, Beau?” you ask, your voice tentative at first, but firm. “You’re the sheriff now, got this beautiful home and all... have you... found someone?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, guiding his horse with a steady hand. You can see the corners of his lips twitch, like he’s trying to hold back a smile—or maybe a laugh.

“Nope,” he says finally, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. “No one worth mentioning, I suppose.”

His gaze flicks to you then, and there’s something in his eyes—a look of amusement, but also something deeper. “Girl of my dreams asking me if I’ve met someone? Thought I’d be the one asking you that after all this time, darlin’.”

You feel a little flustered, the old playful Beau returning in full force. He’s got that teasing look on his face, the one that always made you roll your eyes and laugh. You don’t have time to respond, though, because with a swift kick to his horse’s side, he speeds up, the sound of his horse’s hooves increasing in pace.

“Race ya back home, sassy!” he calls over his shoulder, his voice full of mischief, his tone dripping with that familiar nickname. The one he’s always called you.

Sassy.

You can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth, that playful challenge luring you into action. The nickname, meant as a jab at your attitude all those years ago, is like a thread tying you back to something simpler. Something good. . .

You stood near the fence line at his family’s ranch, arms crossed, your boots dug into the dirt like you were planting yourself there just to spite him.

Beau, for his part, looked entirely unbothered, his hands resting casually on his belt, that easy, damn near infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He had a way of looking at you like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even opened your mouth.

“That damn attitude of yours is somethin’ else, y’know that?” he chuckled, shaking his head like you were amusing him.

Your scowl deepened. “Yeah? Why don’t I just go on home then so you can quit dealing with my damn attitude?”

Beau let out a full laugh at that, shoulders jumping with the force of it. Like you hadn’t just told him off. Like you didn’t mean it. And maybe you didn’t—not really—but you sure as hell wanted him to think you did.

“Hell no,” he drawled, still grinning. “Sassy as all hell, that’s what you are.”

Your pout stayed firm, arms tightening across your chest, but your traitorous heart wasn’t nearly as steady. Not with the way he was looking at you. Not with that warmth in his eyes—like he liked it. Like he wouldn’t have you any other way.

He sighed then, soft and a little exasperated, but there was something else beneath it, something deeper. Before you could react, he stepped closer, tilting his head down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

You barely had time to process it before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. The scent of him surrounded you, familiar and steady in a way that made your stomach flip.

“My sassy miss,” he murmured against your hair, the words quiet, like they weren’t meant for anyone but you.

And just like that, your resolve wavered, your heartbeat betraying you as it hammered hard against your ribs. You wanted to stay mad. You really, really did. But damn it was hard to hold onto your fire when he could hold you like you were something precious. 

As you and Beau walk through the back door into the house, the familiar scent of wood and leather instantly wraps around you, bringing back memories of long days spent in this place. You can hear the low hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the creak of the wooden floors beneath your boots. It’s all so familiar, yet it feels like you’re stepping into a time that doesn’t quite belong to you anymore.

Beau opens the door with a casual, almost lazy gesture, stepping aside to let you enter first. He follows, continuing the story that seemed too good not to share. “Anyways,” he grins, “I was at this fundraiser over in town—one of those fancy events where everyone’s trying to impress each other. I’m talkin’ big names, expensive suits, and of course, I show up looking like I’ve never even heard of a tailor in my life.”

You snort, imagining Beau in an unflattering suit.

"So I’m talking to this big-shot rancher, trying to keep my cool, right? But I’m just so out of my element. I reach for my drink, and somehow—don’t ask me how—I knock the whole damn thing over. It spills everywhere. I'm not talking a little dribble, I'm talking splashing all over this poor woman’s white dress. The whole room goes silent, and I’m standing there like I’ve just committed a crime."

You’re already laughing, but Beau doesn’t stop there.

"Then, of course, I try to salvage the situation. I offer her my napkin—a paper napkin—like that’s gonna fix it. She looks at me like I’m crazy. And me? Instead of apologizing and walking away like any sane person would, I try to make a joke out of it. 'Guess I was just trying to add some color to the party,' I say."

You shake your head, still laughing. "I bet that went over well."

Beau shrugs with a sheepish grin. "Yeah. Not my best moment. She didn’t even crack a smile. But hey, at least I made an impression. I’m sure she won’t forget me anytime soon."

You can’t help the laugher that spills out, a full, genuine laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside you. It’s loud and unrestrained, and for a moment, you feel lighter. The sound feels like it belongs in this place, like you’ve come home after all these years, even if it’s only for a short while.

Beau watches you, a smile tugging at his lips, and his eyes—those familiar watchful eyes—never leave you. His grin falters for just a second, something deeper, more serious, taking its place. But he doesn’t say anything, instead nudging you gently as he walks past.

Beau looks at you, his expression soft but purposeful. He nods toward the staircase. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he says, voice low but steady. “I’ll wait for you down here. We’ve got some talking to do, I know, but I also know how you get when you’ve got hay and dirty clinging to every bit of you.”

You nod, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and strange contentment. “Yeah,” you murmur, “you’re not wrong about that.”

You make your way up the stairs, the familiar creak of the old wood beneath your feet grounding you in this space. As you pass the hallway, your eyes fall on the little pieces of yourself scattered around the house, tucked away in corners where they’ve stayed all this time. The trinkets you left behind, the blankets you’d picked out together, the small knick-knacks that somehow still hold your mark. There’s no pictures of you, no wedding photos displayed, but it’s there in the details, in the softness of the place that’s held on to you, even after all this time.

You reach the bathroom, the air warm and comforting, and step into the shower. The water rushes over you, and as the steam fills the room, it’s like you’re letting go of all the distance, the years, the heartache.

When you step out, wrapped in a towel, you make your way to the dresser and pull open the drawer. A smile tugs at your lips when you see an old pair of your pajama pants still tucked away, folded neatly beside a few other forgotten clothes. It’s like you never left, like a small part of you has stayed here even when you weren’t.

Slipping on one of Beau’s old shirts, the fabric soft and worn, you feel a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity. The scent of his cologne lingers on the shirt, and for a second, it’s like you’re still that girl who used to live here, who used to be his.

You make your way downstairs, your footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs, and follow the sound of music drifting from the front porch. When you step outside, you find Beau sitting on the porch bench, his legs stretched out before him, looking out at the pasture as the setting sun casts a golden glow across the land.

The music playing from a little radio beside him is soft with the buzzing of the crickets picking up as the day comes to it’s end. It’s still early spring, when the breeze and the sun take part in a sweet little dance. Like Montana itself is trying to lure you back in. 

Beau’s got a long neck in one hand, and a little mug of tea in the other. 

He doesn’t say anything when you sit down beside him, just hands you the mug wordlessly, as if it’s always been the unspoken thing to do. You take it, inhaling the sweet scent of chamomile tea, your favorite.

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice soft and teasing. “I know you don’t drink this stuff.”

Beau just shrugs, his gaze still focused on the pasture. “Yeah, yeah,” he says nonchalantly, “still had a tin in the back of the cupboard. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

The gesture is simple, but it hits you harder than you expected. Maybe it’s the way the tea warms your soul, how sitting beside Beau now feels no different than when you were fourteen, or eighteen, or twenty. You wrap your hands around the mug, the warmth seeping into your skin, and you let the silence settle between you, feeling the weight of the moment.

But after a while, it’s you who breaks the silence.

“We really gotta talk about those papers, Beau,” you say softly, your voice almost hesitant, as if you’re not sure how to broach it.

He finally looks at you, his eyes holding that deep, steady gaze that makes it impossible to hide anything. His fingers tighten around the bottle in his hand, and he nods slowly, his voice low and sincere.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he says, his words slow and deliberate. “Just let me sit here with you, alright? Just like this. Then we’ll go inside, and you can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. Then I’ll sign those papers in the morning.”

You nod, the quiet moment stretching between you both, filling the space with a tenderness that feels oddly comforting.

“I’m not the one you need, Beau," your voice comes out soft, hesitant as you try to grip tight onto remnants of your will to keep him at arms length. "I’m not that same girl you grew up next to, all that fire and fun, it died out a long time ago.” 

His chest puffs with the deep sigh he takes, his eyes staying trained on the setting sun, “I always loved that fire in you, Sassy.” Then he turns, his arm finding it’s place against the back of the bench, his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder. “But that ain't the only thing I loved.”

The sun continues to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft glow over the pasture as you sit beside him, your hands still wrapped around the tea, the gentle hum of the music and the distant sound of the horses your only company. And you can’t find the words to respond to that, not now—hell, you’re not sure you ever will.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @daylighted @jollyhunter @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @couturewinx @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts

[uluvjay]

In your love-M. Rempe

Matt Rempe x fem! Reader

In which you and Matt finally pronounce your love for one another

Warnings?: tooth rotting fluff, kissing, concert setting, large crowd, based off of Tyler Childers song “In your love.”

“You excited?” He smiled down at you, his bright smile stretching out over his face.

“Yeah, I’ve only been to one country concert before.” You replied, rocking back and forth on your feet as you waited for the line to move up.

“Oh honey you’ve been missing out.” He laughed, wrapping his strong arm over your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him.

The second Matt heard Tyler Childers would be in town the man bought the tickets immediately, did he get yelled at for spending the amount of money he did? Yes, but he could care less.

He watched you dance around his apartment day after day singing multiple songs and there was nothing he wanted more then for you to be able to experience them live.

By the time you guys made it in and found a good spot in the crowd it had began to get dark, the opener coming on stage with a warm greeting.

You two didn’t know any of his songs but danced and enjoyed the music nonetheless, giggles floated from you as Matt spun you in circles and dipped you, his sisters taking video after video making sure to capture the sweet moments.

“Do you want a drink?” Matt asked once a small intermission came between the opener and Tyler..

“Just a water please.” You smiled politely.

“Gotcha.” He spoke, dipping down to place a kiss to your cheek before taking off.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes watched him walk away, butterflies floating in your chest as the heat of his lips still lingered on your cheek.

Many people thought he was a big buff jerk for the way he fought on the ice but they couldn’t be more wrong. He was gentle and kind, he was the guy that helped the old ladies in the grocery store grab things off the top shelf.

He was welcoming to anyone new, so open to giving new people a chance and while sometimes it gets him burned he always says he’d rather take the chance then not.

The voice of one of his sisters pulled you from your thoughts, “God he is so in love with you.” She laughed.

You blushed at her words, “you think so?”

“Think so? Girl I know so. I’ve never in my entire life seen him look at anyone or anything the way he looks at you.” She smiled throwing her arm over your shoulder similar to how her brother did earlier in the evening.

You didn’t get a chance to reply to her before you saw your boy heading your way, his large frame towering over a majority of the crowd.

“Here you go.” He smiled as he handed you the bottle of water.

“Thank you.” You hummed leaning to place a quick peck to his lips.

“You are very welcome pretty lady.” He replied, leaning down to lock your lips in one more sweet kiss.

Your small group talked and took some pictures while you waited for Tyler to take the stage, childhood stories and funny memories were shared from his sisters while you laughed and Matt blushed in embarrassment.

Finally when the lights dimmed and people started to cheer did you guys turn back towards the stage, watching as Tyler came out.

He greeted the crowd before jumping into his set list, multiple of your favorites starting off the show. You had your back resting against Matt’s chest while his arms wrapped around your front swaying you two side to side.

The beat to the song died and Tyler stepped away from the mic, he interacted with the crowd for a moment before introducing his next song.

“This one I wrote for a special someone in my life and I hope you love it as much as I do them. This is in your love.” He smiled.

“Oh I love this one” you smiled as you squeezed Matt’s arm in excitement.

You sang along to the intro watching him perform until you were turned to face Matt, you threw your arms around his shoulder, his hands dropped to your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest as he cupped your cheek softly and began to sing the words to you.

I will stand my ground, I'm a bad man looking for takers, You're the finest thing around.

So I will stand my ground

'Cause it's cold out there

And you know some men search for ages

For the love that I have found

So I will stand my ground

Tears pricked your eyes as he kept going, you’d been together almost a year now but neither of you had let the three word sentence slip yet.

You’d never felt anything like this before, nobody had made you feel as safe and loved like Matt had but you were scared of saying it too early for him.

We were never made to run forever

We were just meant to go long enough

To find what we were chasin' after

I believe I found it here in your love

You didn’t let him say another lyric before your lips were on his, hands gripping his thick jean jacket while both of his much larger ones came to cup your cheeks gently.

“I love you so much.” You cried when you pulled back.

He smiled, his own eyes watering as he wiped away your escaped tears, “I love you too sweetheart.”

He pecked your lips one last time before pulling you into his side, this time both of you belting out the lyrics.

I will work for you

'Til my hands are tired and bleedin'

I know what it is from us I'm needin'

I will work for you

His sisters watched in a quiet silence, tears of their own pricking their eyes as they watched their brother be so effortlessly in love with you.

The way he held you so close and tender, his fingers gently caressing your arm, his head rested against yours.

There were no doubts in their hearts that their brother had found his person.

Honey, I will wait for you

Honey, I will stand my ground

I will work for you

I will stand my ground

-

[ddejavvu]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could request something with hangman? I was thinking of protective Jake based off of the Tyler Childers lyric “that’s darlin to me but that’s Mrs to you”. It’s sooo Jake coded ♥️ thanks!

one of my request rules is that i don't do songfics but fuck that line is so jake seresin coded that i can't say no

--

The bar's regular patrons know you as Mrs. Seresin, but unexperienced tourists, or fresh-off-the-boat sailors mistake you for an easy catch.

Jake doesn't help, what with the way he saunters over to your bar amidst the buzz of the drunken mass and says, "Hey darlin', y'mind getting me and my friends a couple more?" It's a game you play, and Jake loves to win.

Victory is his when a scrawny new recruit sidles up to the bar, uniform wrinkled at the collar, "How about me, darlin', y'mind bending over and getting me a beer, too?"

"Hey," Jake snaps, voice sharp as a lash, "That's darlin' to me, but that's Mrs. to you. Ring that bell, baby."

Somehow the prolonged ringing of the bell above your head is heard over the roar of the crowd, and you take your own complimentary drink over to Jake's table to enjoy it with him and his squadron, noting that it tastes better when you're not the one paying for it, and when Jake's arm is curled around your waist.

[wnderify]

Cowboy!Luke who has your photo and a love note you wrote tucked in the inside brim of his hat

Cowboy!Luke who always says 'yes ma'am' affectionally, usually with his notorious smirk

Cowboy!Luke who only dances with you, forever taking you by the waist when he greets you

Cowboy!Luke who brings you wildflowers

Cowboy!Luke who only puts his hat on your head bc he thinks it's cute, especially since it's slightly too big for you

i absolutely LOVE your mind!!

• he’d definitely have your photo in his hat… whenever he’s away from you, or from the ranch, he’s constantly looking at it or thinking about it. if he’s in the truck, he takes it out and sets it on the dashboard so he has a constant reminder to stay safe on the road.

• “baby, i can saddle my own horse.” “yes, ma’am” in the kindest, softest voice to ever grace your ears but that smirk that’s obviously intrigued by your independence. you can’t help but let him help you after that.

• ughh this has me imagining the cowboys all in town, a bar that all surrounding wranglers visit. maybe you’re at the bar while the live band is playing a slow love song (im thinking space and time by tyler childers) and cowboy!luke instantly waltz over to you, placing his hands on your waist while leaning down to whisper in your ear ‘how about a dance?’

• the cowboys having to go wrangle some cattle while you stay on the ranch to keep a watch over things, and luke coming back to y’all’s house with flowers. forget me nots, poppies maybe? he saw them and instantly thought of you.

• back to the dancing! imagine being in the middle of the crowd, an area that was designated to be the dance floor, and it feels like it’s just the two of you. you and luke don’t have to share a single word, eyes speaking for y’all. he takes the cowboy hat off his head, leaning down to kiss you and whenever he pulls away, he places the hat on your head. it feels like it’s just the two of you in that bar. my heart is melting.

[probablysimpledreams]

Space and Time (Hawks x reader)

a/n: EEK I'm here with some soft Keigo bc I love that man I've been watching a lot of MHA lately so been thinking about him (and Dabi but shh that's for a later pic) nonstop lately!! This fic is also inspired by the song Space and Time by Tyler Childers, so I highly suggest giving it a listen if you enjoy this fic hehe

cw: mentions of death/theme of death but otherwise it's all soft and sfw and wholesome

wc: 454

Death was part of the job.

This was something the number two hero, Hawks, knew since a kid. He knew that his dream would come with the cost of his life. While that may be a heavy burden for most, Hawks never viewed it as such. He was more than willing to give his life for something bigger than himself. Besides, it's not like there was much left in this life for him.

That was before you came into his life. Slowly but surely you turned his lonely nights into ones filled with warmth and smiles. The usual exhausting drag home from late night patrol now full of excitement as he hurries home to you, hands full as he carries home fried chicken for you two to snack on. Your impact on his life has been massive, bringing beauty to the mundane and peace when the hero suit comes off. He makes sure to always remind you of this too. Always making sure you feel and know his love, now fearful of the day he's not around.

"Kei?" your soft voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, _____?" he responds, turning to face you. The two of you were lounging on the couch, your boyfriend mindlessly scrolling through TV channels as his thoughts spiraled until his loving eyes met yours.

"Everything okay? You seemed lost in thought?"

"Aww, worried 'bout me lil birdie?" he teases, making you roll your eyes and giggle. You move to sit in his lap, straddling him as you play with his hair, lovesick smile still painted on his face as he looks up at you.

"Of course I am baby," you begin peppering his face with soft kisses. A small smile forms on your lips as you hear him quietly chirp after each kiss. These soft peaceful moments meant everything to both of you. "I love you!" He melts at the way the words roll off your tongue, like your love for him was a natural fact of life. He wraps his arms around your waist, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth as his feathers reinforce his hold on you. He chuckles at your reaction as he buries his face in your neck, his lips gently kissing your exposed flesh. His hands move from your waist to under your shirt, rubbing circles into your back. You hum in content, eyes closing as peace washes over your entire body.

"You're my entire world," he speaks against your skin loud enough for you to hear. "I love you _____. Never forget it."

Tomorrow is never promised. This is a fact that often plagues the number two hero's mind. However, in this moment, all that matters to Hawks is having today with you.

[delineate-creates]

Y’all. Tyler Childers, an Appalachian bluegrass artist from Kentucky, just released a song with a music video featuring a queer love story between two coal miners called In Your Love. At this point I have no idea if he’ll get backlash for it, but I would really appreciate if you would watch the mv below and maybe give some positive engagement. I have a feeling he’ll need it.

He has a beautiful discography with really thoughtful, poignant lyrics, and imo he does a fantastic job tackling complicated topics. I highly recommend him! With all the Jason Aldean stuff going around, it feels more important than ever that we have empathetic and authentic voices in country music.

(…and unlike Jason, Tyler’s 2020 song Long Violent History actually SUPPORTS the fight against racial inequality. You can listen to it here if you’d like.)

TLDR: Stan Tyler Childers 🖤

[obsolescent]

the "you need someone right now. and i'm the one that's here. let me be what you need." prompt with trans!leon t4t sex and go

House Fire

Pairing: Trans!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Author's Notes: The scream I scrumpt when I saw this request...I present you with this. This was so fulfilling to write and I hope you enjoy. Thank you for requesting!

Song: House Fire by Tyler Childers

Content Warnings: Sexual content, oral sex, swearing, no gendered language for reader, no gendered genitalia, reader is sad at the beginning and doubting themselves, Leon being awkward and joking as always, lots of fluff and yearning for one another.

Word Count: 2,470

“You can set my house on fire, baby

You can turn it into cinder and smoke

‘Cause this house is mighty cold

And I feel like meltin’ all the snow away”

The door slams, echoing throughout the home. You stormed inside, frustration and sadness overwhelming you. “I don’t see anything between us” repeating in your mind. You could’ve heard that sooner from them, about two months sooner. Why lead you on this whole time if this is how they felt? It seems like you always draw the short straw, never having success in your love life, not understanding why. You’re close to losing it! Close to swearing off love for good.

You’re usually not…This bitter, but it seems like now, most things these days in your life are taking a downturn. A low score on an exam for one of your classes, manager at your job has been criticizing your work more, you and your sibling having a spat that’s left you with the silent treatment from them. “It’s every day for me…” You muttered to yourself, stalking to the kitchen to grab something to drink, preferably alcohol, if you have any. You sincerely hope luck is on your side for this, at least. “Aha!” You exclaimed, grabbing the neck of the wine bottle and pulling it out of the fridge. At least there’s the little things.

While you’re busy searching for the bottle opener, your roommate makes his presence known. “Damn, slammed the door pretty hard, huh? You trying to wake the dead? Definitely woke me up ” He says, looking disheveled. Oops. Talk about a rude awakening.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” You grimaced, stopping to look at him. Good Lord. Looking like a tall drink of water, so effortlessly hot even with bedhead. The nap he was taking made his usually perfectly straight fringe tousled, his clothes wrinkled, eyes rimmed with red that he’s currently making worse by rubbing them. 

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” He asked, running a hand over his face. “I did, it didn’t go well.” You reply, gesturing towards the bottle. “Hell, I’m sorry. Are you doing okay?” His voice is laced with concern. “I reckon.” You mumbled, finally locating the bottle opener and stuffing it into the cork. “We can talk about it, if you want,” He offers. You nod. God, he’s always been so nice. You’re thanking the heavens for finding him as a roommate. Considerate, picks up after himself, willing to share, never loud. He’s definitely a people pleaser, but that’s one of the few things you share in common. Also the fact that he’s trans too, which makes it an even more pleasant experience to live with him. Honestly? You’ve had some feelings for him, but decided against saying anything. Worried about ruining what you have, especially with the way your love life has been going lately.

You sigh, pouring yourself a hefty serving of Moscato, “You want some?” You offer, holding up your glass. “Sure.” You grab another glass and pour him some, too. He accepts it with a ‘thanks’ and follows you to the living room, each sitting at the opposite ends of the couch, facing towards the other. 

You begin, talking about everything going on in your life currently. Your luck with dating, things in your personal life and career. It’s a bit winded. Honestly? It’s a lot, feeling like you’re probably oversharing or overwhelming him, but he just sits there and sips on the wine while nodding his head with the occasional hum, slightly leaning forward with his blue eyes fixated on you. When you’re finally done, you realize you’ve finished your wine, setting the glass down on the coffee table. 

“Sorry, I know that was a lot. Thanks for listening to me rant,” You chuckle, rubbing your neck. “Oh, no problem. I honestly don’t mind, I…Like listening to you talk…About anything.” He says, with a nervous chuckle, fiddling with his wine glass. “Oh.” You reply, surprised. You definitely weren’t expecting that type of response from him. ‘Don’t overthink it, he’s probably feeling really awkward right now and doesn’t know what to say.’

“Well, I’m glad. I know I do a lot of talking for the both of us–not that that is a bad thing! You’re just…You don’t talk as much as I do.” You shrug. You’re embarrassing yourself. “Yeah, no, I’m glad you do. I’m just, I don’t know, I don’t have much to say most of the time.” He chuckles, his cheeks turning pink. You’re not sure if it’s due to the wine or the conversation, but it’s cute.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” He asks, cocking his head, causing his blond hair to fall into one eye. Ugh. “Sure! That sounds nice!” You reply, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. “You can choose, just…No horror?” Leon asks. You nod, scrolling through the movies, settling on a rather funny one you’ve seen before, but it’s been awhile.

“Want some popcorn?” He nods eagerly. You get up while the ads start playing, placing a bag in the microwave. You stand and watch the TV and the back of his head while waiting for the timer to go off. Your thoughts drift back to Leon, specifically the crush you have on the man. You’ve had one since you met him, how could you not? He’s shy and quite charming. But, after hearing what he said earlier, you’re wondering if he has some inkling of feelings towards you? It’s hard to tell. ‘It still could’ve just been him fighting with that brain of his to think of a response.’ He’s definitely an overthinker like you, too.

The beeping from the microwave pulls you from your thoughts, grabbing the bag and pouring the contents into a bowl that’ll allow you to share with Leon. You grab the wine bottle and bring it with you to the living room, setting it down while putting the bowl between you and him.

He scoots closer to you and the bowl, grabbing a handful. You grab your own and soon immerse yourself in the movie. You both begin laughing along to the antics in the movie. Body easing into relaxation mode, you let the day and all the problems that it brought ebb away, glad to share this time with him. You should’ve done this to begin with, instead of going on that miserable date.

You fill your glass up with some more wine. Sipping away, you start to feel the effects. It seems like Leon is too, out of the corner of your eye you see him also relaxed against the cushions with a flush to his face, grinning at the screen. He must feel you staring, because he looks over at you, smiling brightly. “Starting to feel better?” He asks, tilting his head again. Why does that do something to you? “I am. Thanks for hanging out with me, Leon, it means a lot.” You pause, “And sorry again for waking you up.”

“”You’re welcome, and it’s no biggie,” He reaches over and bumps his fist against your arm. You laugh. Once the moment passes, you’re both pulled into the movie again. Distracted by the screen, you reach for the popcorn bowl at the same time Leon does. Your hands collide and it sends a shock through your body, his skin brushing against yours. It feels so good, even if it’s just for that brief second. “Oops,” You giggle, playing off the feeling while pulling your hand back to allow him first dibs. Before you can retract it fully, he grabs onto your hand, interlocking your fingers. 

“You see this train I’m riding?

It’s burning up the coal

And it’s wheels are bound to roll right by you

Honey, won’t you jump my train?”

Your eyes widen, snapping your head towards him. He’s looking away, face scarlet. His thumb starts rubbing circles into your skin before he begins speaking, “Uh, I’m really glad we got to spend this time together, because there’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” He starts, “I’m really glad that none of your dates have worked out…I got worried whenever you would leave for one, hoping that things didn’t work out. I know that sounds awful, but it’s the truth. I’ve been too nervous to tell you how I really feel and I don’t want another opportunity to slip away. What I mean is I…I like you, a lot. I have no idea how you feel about me, and this may ruin what we have, but…I know you’ve had a bad day and things haven’t been going your way so…” His rambling trails off.

When he’s done speaking he moves the bowl out of the way, now nothing separating you two. He scoots closer, cupping your face with both of his hands, his thumbs now brushing your cheeks. “Can I…Kiss you?” He asks timidly. You nod, “Yeah…Yes, please.” He closes the distance, softly pressing his lips to yours. They’re buttery and salty from the popcorn. You love it. Deepening the kiss, you put one hand on the nape of his neck, while the other cups his right cheek, pulling him closer. He whines low in his throat, his hands scrambling to find purchase on your body, finding your waist, clinging to you.

“I’ve been–wanting to do this–for so long–” He says in between kisses, gasping each word. “P-please, this may seem so much at once, but God, I’ve wanted you, needed you, for so long. Whatever you want, just tell me. Those other people have no idea who they’re missing out on.” He’s rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, misty eyed. You begin to feel the familiar sting of tears rising yourself, you nuzzle into his hand. “I know you’re happy they didn’t work out, but I’ve wondered the same thing about myself. Is there something wrong with me? Is that why nothing’s ever gone right?” You suppress a shudder, scrunching up your nose, trying to fight back the onslaught of tears that are trying to break through the dam. 

“Oh, baby, no. Nothing’s wrong with you, you’re perfect just the way you are. I’m so sorry they’ve made you feel like this. I’m so glad to have met you, to be in your presence. You deserve so much, so much more than what you’ve been given. I know I’m not the best with words sometimes, and I’m probably not what you had in mind, but…You need someone right now, and I’m the one that’s here. Let me be what you need.”

“Oh, Leon. I think you’re everything I’ve hoped for.” You whispered, fingers dancing down the side of his face. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, pulling you into a crushing embrace. So close, you don’t know where he ends and you begin, it feels so nice. You can’t recall the last time you’d been touched. You’re famished for affection, and Leon is willing to give you all he can.

It’s a blur of you and him grabbing, touching, pulling on each other’s body like a game of Tug of war. Movie disregarded, popcorn tossed aside, wine warming to room temperature. You and Leon are suspended in this moment together, savoring the lost time. Beginning to recover all those days spent without each other.

Moving in sync, you make it to his room, tangling yourselves together in his bed. Losing articles of clothing, exploring each other's bodies. Skin against skin, tongues exploring new territory. “Is this okay?” “Can I touch you here?” back and forth between you two, nods, gasps, and breathy yeses exchanged. Bare before each other, savoring. Bodies entwined once more. Legs soon hiked over shoulders. His fingers and mouth begin sending you to glory, while his hair is in your clutches. “F-fuck, right there, please keep going please don’t stop! Feels–so–good, Leon,” gasped out of your lungs, dragging nails down his scalp and back. His own moans and whines almost louder than yours, sending tendrils of electricity throughout your body.

“Le-Leon, going to cum,” “Cum for me, baby, let it all out.” Euphoria reached with a yell of his name, body trembling. Leon worked his way back up your body, trailing kisses upwards until reaching your lips. “I want you, Leon. Let me make you feel good too,” whispered between the entanglement of mouths. Severing the connection, laying him against the bedsheets while mimicking the path he left against your skin. 

Taking your time with him, using light touches while exploring him. Withering against the bed, begging for you. “P-please fuck goddamn, touch me more. I need your mouth so badly I feel like I’mgoingtoexplode.” Ever the exaggerator. You enlighten him by wrapping your lips around him and sucking, simultaneously sliding two fingers into his warmth. “FUCK fuckfuckfuck ye-yes thank you, baby, making me feel so good.” His hand snaked down to grip your hair, tugging. Humming in approval has him jolting, arching and crying out. “Oh shit shit I’m cumming, God–ugh–don’t stop!” His walls clenched down against your fingers while grinding into your mouth.

Laying limp amongst the battered sheets, you crawl up to him and repeat his actions, ending in a fervent kiss. Ensnared in each other’s hold for the final time that night, basking in the warm glow emanating from you both. “That was…Everything I had hoped it would be and more.” You murmured, finger tracing his jaw. “Yeah, it was. I haven’t felt that good with someone before, if I’m being honest, and you made me feel really good.” He chuckled, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Me too,” you giggled back, his kisses tickling your hand. He yawns, reaching down to grab the blanket that had fallen off the bed. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? If I remember correctly, my nap earlier was disrupted,” He smirks at you. “Sorry again,” you apologize once more, though not too sorry since it led to this. “You can make it up to me,” He says while tucking you in against the sheets, “By sleeping with me.” He pauses. “I mean, you know, like…Napping…Not sex again.” You laugh, “I get what you mean, Leon. I would love to.”

Bundled up, Leon rests his head against your chest, quickly lulled to sleep by your heartbeat. You lay awake for a bit longer, turning your head to look out the window, at the stars. Thanking them for bringing you and him together. Closing your eyes, you’re pulled into slumber with a smile gracing your features, bitterness long from your mind, replaced with jubilation.

“You see these boots I'm wearing

They're tough enough to go

And they will take many a road to reach you

Honey, won't you light the way?”

[pup-rott]

hi pup! saw u were looking for some music reccs ^^ here r sum of my favs!

(disclaimer I don’t think any of these ppl r problematic but i listen 2 a lot of stuff so could b wrong. music suggestions not indicative of any of my opinions!! just like a beat <33)

Dog Park Dissidents - queer puppy punk! recently came out w/ a comic to match their new album!! LOVE the song Rev your Motor!!

Destructo Disk - modern punk, 2 albums + singles! fav album is punk rock for kids who can’t skate

Be Your Own Person- mix of indie/rock/pop/punk , most recent album (mommy) is p good

Chase Petra - on the indie side of things, more emotional and lyric poetry focused. my fav album is 4’oclock in the afternoon, Liminal is also populr!

Set It Off - pop rock / emo, my fav nostalgia music!! new stuff leans more toward experimental rock / pop. LOVE the Horrible Kids album

Tyler Childers - let this small town fagpup have one (1) country artist. anyway he’s gr8!! more emotional. not familiar w every song, esp the newer ones. some few faves r Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven, Charleston Girl, n Whitehouse Road

&nd now… SPECIFIC SONGS…

the devil wears a suit and tie (colter wall) -emo country? folk??, realll good raspy voice ugh

a good thing (kyle stibbs) - indie folk? idk songs about some toxic family religious trauma cult shit it hits

like a stone (audioslave) - this song pertains specifically to a character i am crazy about but it also bangs. i 💚 u 2000s rock

n e wayyy there r some all time favs! I’ve been on a crazy indie/folk kick recently and have SOO much of that saved away too lolll. BYEE goodnite thx 4 letting me yell abt music!! hope u like em! ^^

- 🐾 @bargainorgans

AUGH TYSM … i love chase petra so so much and tyler childers was one of my top artists this year !!! looove set it off too <33 thank u i love u !!

[faelwenholdsthelight]

Rules: shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people.

Tagged by both @doomedgirls and @orkestrations so I guess I should participate lol

1. Mars - sleeping at last (this comes as no surprise, there's always at least one sleeping at last somewhere haha)

2. Daylight - David Kushner (I've been obsessed with this one since the first snippet on clock app)

3. A Reason To Fight - Disturbed

4. Throne - Saint Mesa (one of my favorite songs)

5. Broken Vessel - Christopher Larkin (don't come for me, I just really love the hk soundtrack)

6. When it's all over - RAIGN

7. When I'm Gone - 3 Doors Down (this band remains my answer when asked my favorite band. I love so many others but 3 doors down will always have my heart)

8. Neptune - Sleeping At Last (yes I know, I have a problem haha)

9. Until I End Up Dead - Dream (a new obsession song, I could listen to his voice all day haha)

10. In Your Love - Tyler Childers (I many have listened to this song on repeat for nearly a week. I love it so much, I can't even explain. Beautiful gay love song while being gorgeous country music of the old style, yes please sign me right up. Combined with the Appalachian roots of the song/video/singer? I will love this song till the day I die.

Anyways this was both fun and an incredible callout haha. Thank you for the tags. Tagging a few but whoever sees this and wants to participate is welcome! @the-13th-battalion @plusultrachaos @theghosthybrid

[outside-for-the-first-time]

You have to answer all the music asks too! Mwahahaha!

I didn’t realize how evil this was until I started it. anyways let’s get into it 😤

1 - a song you like with a color in the title

Blue Magnolia by Electrophunk, David Ramirez

2 - a song you like with a number in the title

1979 by The Smashing Pumpkins

3 - a song that reminds you of summertime

Home by Good Neighbours

4 - a song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget about

McKenzie by Houndmouth

5 - a song that needs to be played loud

The Dog Is Mine by K-OS

6 - a song that makes you want to dance

Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega

7 - a song to drive to

Colored Emotions by Night Moves

8 - a song about drugs or alcohol

Whitehouse Road by Tyler Childers

9 - a song that makes you happy

You Get What You Give by New Radicals

10 - a song that makes you sad

Poppies by Flipturn

11 - a song that you never get tired of

Grease - From “Grease” by Frankie Valli

12 - a song from your preteen years

Title and Registration by Death Cab for Cutie

13 - one of your favorite 80s songs

Love Shack by The B-52s

14 - a song that you would love played at your wedding

Space and Time by Tyler Childers

15 - a song that is covered by another artist

Time > Breathe Reprise > by Greensky Bluegrass

16 - one of your favorite classical songs

Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act I, Scene II: March by The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra, Friedmann Riehle

17 - a song that you would sing a duet with on karaoke

Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

18 - a song from the year you were born

What’s My Age Again? By Blink-182

19 - a song that makes you think about life

Blue Healer by Birdtalker

20 - a song that has many meanings to you

Broken Bells by Greta Van Fleet

21 - a favorite song with a persons name in the title

Jenny Jenkins by Mt. Joy

22 - a song that moves you forward

DARE by Gorillaz

23 - a song that you think everybody should listen to

No Smoke by Bendigo Fletcher

24 - a song by a band you wish were still together

Always Alright by Alabama Shakes

25 - a song by an artist no longer living

The Sounds of Science by the Beastie Boys (technically only Yauch is dead but)

26 - a song that makes you want to fall in love

All Again by Charles Wesley Godwin

27 - a song that breaks your heart

Montreal by The Ghost of Paul Revere

28 - a song by an artist with a voice you love

YAH. by Sego, Vacationer

29 - a song that you remember from your childhood

Can’t Get You Out of My Head by Kylie Minogue

30 - a song that reminds you of yourself

Kids by Current Joys

[septembersghost]

Have you ever listened to Orville Peck? His voice is gorgeous. Like Elvis, Johnny Cash, Michael Buble, and Bing Crosby all rolled into one amazing country singing package.

i have not, but i listen to all the artists you mentioned so obviously i need to rectify this!

"Over spare, elegant instrumentation—Peck is a student of Sam Phillips, Elvis Presley’s first producer, who, in the nineteen-fifties, pioneered a way of delaying and doubling echo to give recordings a spooky, pinging depth—Peck grapples with depression, heartache, and restlessness."

"His voice conveys its own sense of classic mystery: Peck croons with a deep, soulful sound that’s been compared to Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison and Chris Isaak."

the lyric: "She tells me she don't like Elvis, I say, I want a little less conversation, please," he's just like me fr

there are a lot of other amazing and insightful things in the articles i pulled up about him too, i don't know how i've been out of the loop!

i will talk about this at any given opportunity, but elvis' impact and legacy inspiring countless artists across genres and generations, to the point where it's impossible to calculate how far-reaching those threads are (and the layers there, because many artists were inspired by people who were inspired by him - if someone cites the beatles or paul simon or billy joel or freddie mercury or bob dylan or tina turner or bowie or hendrix or dolly or stevie or or or--- as influences, that initial spark goes back to elvis, and that continues with so many modern musicians today, including people like miley and lana and lady gaga and harry and bruno and beyonce). like this barely scratches the surface of it, it's phenomenal.

orville peck is not alone carrying that torch, but everyone expresses it uniquely, from different backgrounds, races, orientations, and it's such a beautiful thing. @joons sent me this last night:

up and coming artist stephen sanchez, who my anon has messaged me about, and whose album is built around a vintage theme was shaped and influenced by him, plus jillian cardarelli's new song directly dedicated to him...it's so beyond him never being forgotten. he's ingrained in the very fabric of music. that's his legacy, that miraculous connection to music and the happiness and comfort in it and how its humanity bridges all gaps and brings people together and sparks something within them that they share with others.

sorry this got off-topic asgshsdjfgh but it's remarkable and touching to me every time it comes up - and the same is true of artists like bing and frank and ella and billie holiday and nat king cole and tony and judy etc, they're not here, but they're never gone. as long as their voices are heard and remembered and loved, as long as the beautiful tapestries of their music are passed on and inspire others, they're still alive in spirit. one candle lights another candle and those flames become eternal.

[bubbledtee]

i love tyler childers so much that man’s voice moves me like no other.

[thebowerypresents]

Tyler Childers Makes a Statement Over Two Nights at Madison Square Garden

Tyler Childers – Madison Square Garden – May 28-29, 2024

Tyler Childers has one of the great voices, not only in modern country and Americana, but in music, period: pained, howling, lived-in, oaky, scuffed-smooth when it needs to be, utterly recognizable. Over a series of sturdy albums that shows increasingly deep songwriting, his sound has become a through line from ancient twang to countrypolitan modern and many other points easily adjacent or distantly related, from gosxpel to folk, blues to Appalachian string. Especially in a live setting, they’re all usefully blended.

Childers and a massive version of his Food Stamps band — eight players in all — hit Madison Square Garden on Tuesday, the first of two statement-maker shows at the arena. Name-checking Joe’s Pub and some other much smaller NYC venues that dot a steady rise to bigger and bigger crowds over less than a decade, Childers seemed genuinely moved by the grand expanse of the room and the lordly reception from fans. Naturally, he responded in kind: a big show, a big sound, gorgeously emotional whether it was the whole band hitting at full throttle, or Childers alone onstage in guitar-storyteller mode. 

The band all together revealed many layers as they fleshed out the tunes, from the country stomp of “Percheron Mules” to the gorgeous blends of pedal steel and fiddle that ramped into “I Swear (To God).” “All Your’n” was an example of a tender, piano-dappled love song — more than a few couples were asway at all levels of the arena — and snatches of accordion, mandolin and organ shot through at various points, too. “Purgatory” was a stuttering, busy boogie, and then came a see-and-raise to an even busier boogie, an instrumental reading of the traditional mountain picker “Cluck Ol’ Hen,” with Childers on a fiddle and the whole group moving into psychedelic hoedown territory. It was that kind of wild.

As deservedly much as he’s lauded for songwriting, Childers is a gifted interpreter of others’ songs too — never more than a few during a show and positioned just right. Tuesday’s show included a Kenny Rogers (“Tulsa Turnaround”), a Hank Williams (“Old Country Church”), an S.G. Goodman (!) (“Space and Time” — stunning) and … yep, a Kermit the Frog (“Movin’ Right Along”), complete with the green puppet himself, singing on both that song and, as a bittersweet duo with Childers just before it, on “Lady May.”

I mean, sure, why not, right? Kermit was just one more part of the full serving — a continuous, two-hour set with a solo-acoustic segment in the middle that unfolded panoramically and went for broke near the end with a run that included usual Childers bangers like “Whitehouse Road,” “Way of the Triune God” and the triumphant “Universal Sound.” The finale was “Heart You’ve Been Tendin’,” which built gradually on the back of the chant-like refrain “All that you’ll take” and stacked the tension, yielding to a bone-saw-sharp solo from guitarist CJ Cain that pushed the band to Crazy Horse–like levels of vicious choogle. But heavy and sonic as it all was, Childers himself remained the center of the action regardless of the mode, letting his humility be even bigger than his voice and then pushing that howl even harder, paying off the tender hearts and the rage-ready alike. A great night. —Chad Berndtson | @Cberndtson

Photos courtesy of Marc Millman | www.marcmillmanphotos.com

[dykehayleywilliams]

Okay idk if this is the best love song ever but my favorite is all yourn by Tyler Childers(partially because it was my sister and her husbands first dance at their wedding)

I love his voice his West Virginia drawl is so romantic, also

SO ILL LOVE YOU TILL MY LUNGS GIVE OUT

I AINT LYIN

I’M ALL YOURN AND YOURE ALL MINE

THERE AINT TWO WAYS AROUND IT THERE AINT NOT TRYIN BOUT IT

IM ALL YOURN AND YOURE ALL MINE

I’m also very partial to “in your love” by the same artist if you’ve never heard it your first experience with it should be the music video it’s sooooo good

I need to be two stepping in a dusty west texas dive bar with the love of my life to all your’n RIGHT NOW