#AND YOU’RE HIS GOD DAMN FUCKING SHERIFF

[frozenjokes]

scar and jimmy are going to team up in the next life series AND THATBLUE HAIRED CUNT ISNT GOING TO SAY A GOD DAMN WORD

[waynes-multiverse]

Kinky request? 🤔 I don't know if you got this one already but how about Beau loving the risk of getting caught fucking in his office? Maybe turning it into a Blowjob under his desk befor they actually get caught by Popcorn or Jenny?🤭

A/N: Yup, I haven't forgotten about Dirty Drabbles. My inbox is still full of these, so here's another one. Enjoy some naughty alone time with our favorite Sheriff! 🤍🤠

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, shameless flirting, semi-public smut, office blowjob, some fluff as well

Word Count: 1.4k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Jurisdiction

A few hasty knocks on his office door drew the Sheriff’s attention away from his files and to the intruder. He told Jenny and Poppernak he needed some peace and quiet this afternoon to catch up on the piling paperwork on his desk.

God, he hated paperwork. It was his least favorite part of the job.

“Popcorn, I told you I don’t wanna be disturbed,” Beau barked a little rougher than usual, the tension headache making him slightly cranky.

“Yes, sir, I know.” Poppernak swallowed and blinked at him insecurely, forcing a deep sigh from the Sheriff’s lips. “But, uhm, you have a visitor.”

Beau’s features lightened at that. Maybe Emily decided to surprise him with lunch. “Who?”

“FBI, sir.”

Once more, Beau sighed heavily, the crease in his brow reappearing. “Alright, what do they want?”

“She wants to see an old friend,” said a female voice, Beau’s head tilting at the familiarity before a smile spread on his freckled face.

“Sorry, couldn’t keep her out any longer,” Jenny apologized as she rushed in behind the agent.

“It’s alright,” Beau told his deputy, his grin only growing. Soon his sunny smile reached from ear to ear. “Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, I’ll be damned… What brings you into my little corner of the world, huh?”

Y/N chuckled, her smile competing with his. “Heard you had a serial killer on your hands. Thought I check it out, offer my help…”

“Ah.” Beau nodded and got up from his creaking swivel chair, sauntering closer to her. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms in front of his chest, the shirt tightly stretching over his muscles. “Of course, the FBI’s snooping around. I believe that ain’t your jurisdiction, sweetheart.”

“C’mon, we’ve had fun last time we’ve worked together,” Y/N said and winked.

Beau laughed, his cheeks flushing red, the change of color luckily hidden by his beard. “That we did. And here I thought you just came here to see me.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Y/N smirked.

“You guys know each other?” Jenny asked curiously, catching some of the flirtatious air in the room. Beau guessed that if the blonde didn’t make the connection, she wouldn’t be such a good detective but still hoped she wouldn’t tease him about it once their shift was over.

“Worked a case together down in Texas. Cartel business,” Y/N explained without taking her eyes off the Sheriff. It was as if the others in the small office didn’t even exist.

“Yup, Special Agent Y/L/N is one of the best in the narcotics game,” Beau added.

“Major Crimes now, actually,” Y/N corrected him.

“Look at you!” Beau nodded, impressed, sending her a smile before he turned to his two subordinates. “Guys, how about you let me catch up with Agent Y/L/N, see if we need the FBI’s help with this one, alright?”

“Sure, boss,” Jenny said and shot him a knowing smirk. The blonde then grabbed a confused Poppernak and dragged him out of the office, closing the door behind them.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Beau said with a warm smile as soon as the two of them were alone.

“You, too, Arlen. That Sheriff title suits you,” she replied flirtatiously. “So, you’re back with the ex?”

“Why are you asking?” he fired back immediately.

Y/N shrugged innocently. “Just assumed since you moved up here.”

“Nah, just did that for the kid,” he explained and could’ve sworn she looked relieved. “What about you? Still seeing that spunky DA?”

“Ted?” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “God, no. Dumped that guy months ago.”

“Good, I never liked that guy,” Beau admitted with a small smile that probably gave away too much. But if Y/N caught it, she surely didn’t care.

“Yeah, I never liked your bitch of an ex-wife either,” Y/N said bluntly and grinned at him unapologetically.

“Still got a mouth on you, huh?” Beau’s gaze wandered down her body, feeling his dick harden and strain his pants. Her hips, ass, and thighs were clad in tight denim, her breasts close to spilling out of her white blouse and bra as he bit back a lustful smirk.

“You betcha. You always loved that about me,” Y/N retorted, wiggling her eyebrows. Stalking closer to him, she stopped directly in front of him, so close their breaths mingled as her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. Chewing seductively on her lower lip, she asked, “Still into living and loving dangerously?”

Beau didn’t respond to that question. Instead, he grabbed her and pulled her closer in one swift motion, crashing his lips against hers and sliding his tongue inside her mouth.

“Lock the door,” he ordered her in a deep growl, the need for her painfully pushing against his zipper.

With the door locked, Y/N was back in his arms only seconds later. He devoured her mouth, tasted every drop of her as she moaned and palmed his rock-hard cock through the fabric.

“God, I forget every time how fucking big you are,” Y/N breathed devilishly into his ear and unbuckeled his belt.

“Shit,” Beau panted as her hand crawled inside his boxers.

Not a minute later, she was on her knees in front of him, his pants and underwear pooling around his cowboy boots and his hands caught in her hair, guiding her where he wanted her the most. As her amble lips finally enveloped his thick length, he almost blew his load right then and there. She giggled at his restraint and taunted him even further by brushing her tongue along his throbbing cock, her hand cupping and rolling his balls just the way he liked it.

Goddamn, he had forgotten how good she was at this and how much he truly had missed it.

He decided right there he wouldn’t let another opportunity pass him by. There had been too many over the years, and he knew, soon enough, there would be none left. Y/N was a catch, and he needed to be the guy who caught her before someone else – someone like fucking Ted – got to it.

“Fuck, darlin', don’t stop,” he groaned and closed his eyes as her lips sucked his dick empty.

But Y/N would’ve never dared to stop, loving the way the Sheriff jittered above her and fought tooth and nail to hold out for as long as possible. She loved how much control she had over him, how he bit his lower lip almost bloody, and how his knuckles turned white around the edge of the desk.

“If I let you come down my throat, are you gonna let me in on the case?” Y/N asked and looked up at him, her tongue mischievously teasing his swollen and leaking tip as their gazes met.

“Fuck, yeah…” Beau grunted, having a hard time getting the words out as his nerve endings were electrified. “Already made that decision when you strolled in here, sweetheart.”

“Really?” Surprised, Y/N raised a brow at him, her lips molding around his cockhead before she teasingly retreated again, repeating the torturous action a few more times.

“Shit, yeah… I want you to stay this time,” Beau pressed out through his teeth and harshly squinted his eyes closed.

“Alright,” Y/N replied nonchalantly and smirked up at him. “Thought you’d never ask, Sheriff.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Beau exclaimed louder than he wanted to when her head bobbed up and down his aching length with vigor.

A few more strokes of her sinful tongue, and he spilled hot white ropes of cum down her throat and pantingly watched her swallow every last drop.

Still catching his breath, he helped her back onto her feet like the gentleman he was before the supposedly locked door suddenly burst wide open and a shocked Poppernak blinked at him with even wider eyes, not knowing where to look.

“Uh, sorry, sir! I thought you called!”

Sheriff Arlen then turned the deepest shade of red of his life, this time even visible through his thick beard, hearing Y/N’s amused laugh reverberate in his ringing ears. He was literally caught with his pants down.

And now, Beau was certain he’d never hear the end of it from his deputy.

Hope you enjoyed this one, ladies ✌️

This one-shot serves as a prequel to a series. Read more of this couple here: Polaris 🌌

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373

[xenaxena]

Tap The Badge

— masterlist

— pairing: beau arlen x female reader

— summary: you’re very turned on by the way the sheriff gestures to his badge

— word count: 1.2k

— warnings: established relationship, porn with little plot, oral sex (male and female receiving), cock praising (is that a thing?), body worship, hair pulling, unprotected sex (not real, use protection people)

— want smut without plot? scroll down to —xxx—

— author’s note: a description of what went through my head when i saw beau in this scene

“Beau, why are you dressed up for work?” you laughed a little, seeing him in his jeans, boots, button up, the whole deal. “It’s nearly ten o’clock, aren’t you coming to bed?”

“In a minute, darlin’, I’m practicing something,” he replied, not looking away from the full body mirror. You tore back the covers and got out of bed.

“What are you practicing?” you asked, folding your arms and furrowing your brows a little.

He turned away from the mirror to face you; “Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said sternly and tapped the badge attached to his left hip. You swallowed thickly. “How was that?”

“G-Good,” you nodded, “uhm, do it again just so I can- uh- really- evaluate your- uh- technique?”

He furrowed his brows but nodded, and did it again. “Beau Arlen, Sheriff.” He tapped the badge again, not missing how you crossed your legs. “Is this turning you on?”

“Oh god, yes. Do it again,” you exclaimed.

—xxx—

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he said, again tapping the badge on his hip. “Anything I can do for you ma’am?”

“Oh god yes,” you dropped to your knees. “Please let me suck your cock.”

“As the Sheriff, I must ask you to hold still, ma’am.” He smirked down at you and patted your head a little before unzipping his pants and taking out his dick. You again swallowed thickly, practically salivating at the glorious sight. “And, as the Sheriff,” he gripped your chin gently, “I’m gonna have you suck this cock.”

“Oh god yes! Yes, sir, please fuck- I wanna suck this cock!” You looked up at him as he smiled before guiding his cock to your lips.

“Open up, ma’am.”

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and teased him with your tongue. He let out a sinful moan which caused you to do the same.

“God, baby just like that, fuck!” he groaned, pulling at your hair with one hand, while the other caressed your stretched cheek. “So beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful darling.”

All you could do was moan and stare up at him as you sucked off the Sheriff.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said and pulled you off of him.

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“C’mon, stand up hon,” he whispered and helped you to your feet before he kissed you. “As much as I adore those lips around my cock I ain’t coming down your throat, I’m coming in the tight little pussy of yours.”

You let out a gasping moan before he kissed you again. One hand rested on your hip while his other hand reached down into your panties.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he chuckled lowly. He moved his fingers through your folds, loving the sounds you made. He moved his hands under your shirt and helped you take it off, exposing your breasts and leaving you in just a pair of panties. He stepped back a little so he could truly examine your boobs. “Look at you.” He bit his bottom lip and cupped your breasts delicately.

“Beau!” you moaned and closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his hands playing with your soft skin.

“So fuckin’ perfect, such fuckin’ beautiful tits,” Beau mumbled. “God damn it, now I wanna come on these tits!”

“Beau, please just- just need you,” you gasped when he pinched your nipples. Your hands went to run up and down his forearms. “Need you i-in me, please Beau? Fuck!”

“Alright, darling I’ve got you,” he said and kissed you quickly. “Get in the bed, I need to undress.” You hurried over to the bed, ridding yourself of your panties on the way.

“Wait,” you stopped him from taking off his shirt, “d-do the badge thing one more time?” He smirked widely.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he tapped the badge again, “you need to spread your legs for me, ma’am.”

“Yes, sir, anything for you Sheriff,” you exclaimed and spread your legs as you sat with your back against the headboard. “Could you please put your dick in me now? I really want you to fuck me, sir!” You didn’t miss the way his cock twitched and his breath hitched.

“Sorry, miss, but I think I’m gonna have to eat you out first,” he replied. “That pussy looks way too sweet.”

He didn’t waste another second and hurried onto the bed. He pulled you forward so you were laying down with his face between your thighs. He slowly dragged his tongue through your folds, swiping your clit quickly and watching as you threw your head back.

“Oh god, Beau- fuck!” you moaned. “Beau f-fuck I-I’m- ooh god!”

He didn’t let up. He put your clit between his lips and sucked in harshly, making you scream with pleasure. But he still didn’t stop. He then blew out, the cool air stinging your bud sweetly. He dragged his tongue down through your folds then back up. Up and down, side to side, never missing the way you convulsed when he hit certain parts.

“Cl-Close Beau! Fuck, so close!” you exclaimed.

“Mhm, hold on a little longer,” he laughed, the vibration going straight to your core. He put his lips back over your clit and again sucked on it, swiping his tongue across to add to the pleasure.

“Close, close, close, Beau!” you breathed, repeating his name over and over.

“Go ahead, baby, let go,” he mumbled before going back to work on your clit.

You let go and gushed all over him, closing your eyes tightly as you let the orgasm flow through you. When you came down from your high you were met with his stare; he hovered above you, his beard glistening with your cum.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” you mumbled, still drunk with pleasure.

“Love you so much fuckin’ more,” he whispered back and kissed your lips.

When you started kissing him back he took that as his cue to slide himself into you.

You both groaned with pleasure.

“B-Beau!” You reached up to brush his face with your hand. “Fuck, I love you!”

He smiled and rested his forehead on yours as he pulled halfway out then thrusted right back in. He repeated the motion and had you moaning his name with each movement.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Beau mumbled. “Fuckin’ goddess.”

“Close- Close again, B-Beau,” you whispered. “R-Really close.”

“Right there with you, honey,” he grunted. “Come with me.”

A few more thrusts had you screaming his name as you experienced your second orgasm of the night and he unloaded his semen into you.

“Fu-uck Beau,” you groaned as he slipped out of you and collapsed onto your heaving chest.

“I love you so much, darling,” he reached up to put his hand on your cheek, not moving his head to look at you. “So fuckin’ much.”

“You- You’re still in your uniform,” you reminded him. “Get more comfortable before you fall asleep, hon, you need to have a- a good night’s sleep for your first day of work tomorrow.”

He slowly lifted himself off of you and stood up. “Fuck all I had to do was take my dick out and I made you cum twice,” he chuckled.

“What can I say,” you shrugged tiredly, “you’re fuckin’ incredible Sheriff.” He bent down and kissed you quickly with a smile. “And I love you so goddamn much!”

[altf4d3lete]

EPISODE TWO

- “maybe it’s one of your classmates” erm or maybe it’s your fucking son and you just decided to ignore the fact that he could be a Hyde too because you didn’t want that to be true

- Weems trying so hard to protect the school. Love her even tho she’s controversial

- Bro wednesday is better than me bc if Rowan walked in smiling at me like that I would have actually lost my shit right then and there

- “Was it to gain attention” what a horrible therapist wtf

- Why does this therapy session feel like a fight omg

- EW TYLER. Sorry.

- Court ordered therapy how badly did you fuck Xavier up bro

- “I believe you” i wonder why bro you’re so manipulative

- ENID MY BBG 😭 “i will literally scratch my own eyes out” “i would pay money to see that” and enid just whips around with a huge smile THEYRE SO CUTE

- HUH??? BY EPISODE TWO THING IS GIVING ENID NECK MASSAGES THATS CRAZY

- Enid not being mean about Rowan being alive unlike SOMEONE (Xavier)

- Yoko looks so done im sobbing

- The gentle rejection from Wednesday and Enid taking it with no issue

- ENID’S WINK

- Is the choir only sirens

- THE FAINT BARKING AFTER SHE SINGS THE NOTE DOGS CAN HEAR

- “Ever shot a bow and arrow” “only on live targets” proceeds to mansplain how to shoot a bow he’s so annoying I can’t stand Xavier im sorry

- She HATES him it’s so funny

- EUGENEEEE

- poor guy aw she just left him there

- There’s just casually a severed hand running through the train station

- THE WAY SHE SLAMS XAVIER’S SPIDER IS SO FUNNY

- Xavier is so awkward sitting between his ex and his crush AND they’re beefing

- Sheriff Galpin is kinda annoying

- HELP ENID BEING SASSY BC THING IS MAD

- Not her coaching wednesday on thing

- “go apologize” “yes ma’am 😐😕”

- Imagine losing your family to a pink sparkly werewolf

- Awww her opening up to thing is so cute

- COUGHS her GREATEST FEAR is being responsible for something terrible and y’all r saying she’d be okay dating someone who was going to help genocide her classmates that’s crazy.

- “I can’t let that happen”

- Y’all she was genuinely concerned abt being the reason the school is in trouble

- Her crushing Eugene about Enid is crazy

- Tyler is so manipulative holy shit

- God she trusted Laurel that sucks so much

- Sigh she can relate to Laurel and that sucks so bad

- I feel so bad for her the one adult she felt like could understand her

- Damn Xavier is so argumentative towards Bianca wtf

- Wednesday was so mad about Bianca cheating to hurt Enid

- MY POOR BABY CRYING ENID :((

- SHES JOINING FOR ENID BE FR WEDNESDAY. YOURE MAD ABT BIANCA’S COMMENT TOWARDS ENID

- I love how they’re always attached at the hip

- WEDNESDAY PUT ON A CATSUIT FOR ENID BE FR EARS AND EVERYTHING

- Enid just not being afraid by Wednesday’s threats

- The way nearly getting beheaded by an axe in the poe cup is just normal

- Enid trusting Wednesday to get the flag

- YES GIRL BREAK THEIR BOAT ENID

- The way she’s way faster than Xavier and Ajax because they got there before and she’d practically caught up with them by the time they got to the crypt (she took a shortcut nvm)

- Goody my bbg 😞

- Xavier getting so mad abt losing is crazy bro literally fell off his seat

- AND YELLING “CHEATERS” HELP

- WWWD I love you enid

- YEA THING PUNCH THAT MF FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND

- ENID WAITING TO RUN TO THE FINISH LINE FOR WEDNESDAY TO HOLD THE FLAG TOO IM ILL

- AND THEM HOLDING IT TOGETHER

- ENID LITERALLY SIDE HUGGING AND SHAKING HER AND WEDNESDAY DOESNT CARE

- they’re so cute

- With how far wednesday went from the quad and how quick enid found her, enid probably immediately went looking for Wednesday after noticing she was missing

- The way she’s hugging Wednesdays arm is so cute

- And the way wednesday looks at enid awww

- WEEMS BEING MORTICIAS COPILOT AND WEDNESDAY BEING ENIDS THATS SO CUTE

- “Ah yes. Me, my gf, and her 5 foot tall trophy”

- Why did she write everything in caps except the “i”s

- The ol’ Addams family snap

- Damn bro got kidnapped that’s crazy

[josephquinnswhore]

DEAD MEN DON’T KISS - Arthur Morgan x female OC!

chapter one ; an opportunist.

summary: Mrs. Simmons has exhausted all of her leads, and reluctantly agrees to the offer of two rugged cowboys with a mutual interest; killing Colm O’Driscoll.

content warning: mentions of violence, blood, suggested murder and brutality, interrogation, threats.

word count: 1.6k

How many O’Driscoll boys would you have to beat bloody until one of them finally cracked? Over the years, you’d developed a pretty effective interrogation system. One that had worked all through the mountains and valleys of almost every town you’d encountered.

But the O’Driscoll boys that had been sent to monitor the area of Strawberry were different, perhaps Colm was actually managing to recruit men that had half of a fucking brain. Decent with their aim and unfortunately for them and you, tight lipped.

Wiping off the remaining evidence of the last O’Driscoll boy you'd once again failed to get answers from onto your jeans, you pull a stool up to the bar. It sure did raise some eyebrows, but no one dared to ask. These folk in Strawberry, if good for nothing else, minded their own business.

Tossing a few dollars onto the sticky bar, you usher the bartender. “Whatever’s strongest on the shelf.”

The man obeys, pouring a small shot glass of whiskey. “Our finest, miss. Enjoy.”

The glass hadn’t been polished properly, the sight causes a grimace on your irritated features. But the whiskey slides down your throat with its coursing burn that, perhaps; loosens your tightly strung limbs.

“Mister.. what’s your name again?” Calling to the un - busy bartender, pointing to your empty glass as you slide it back to him. Although, as it seems, the glass was now stained with your smeared cherry red lipstick.

“Alden, miss. Alden Pensor.” He greets, re - filling your shot glass and sets it back down in front of you.

Shuffling in your seat the gaze you shoot the man from under your wide brimmed black hat is menacing. “Now, Alden. Would you say this is a fair town, a safe town?”

Alden is weary of how things had turned stiff so quickly, he doesn’t want any fuss, the sheriff was gettin’ mouthy about Alden’s complaints of patrons as of late. He was reminded that if he kicked everyone out of the bar, that he would have no customers and no money. Most of the time it saves all of the mishap of folk searching for illegal drink, like moonshine and causing the entire town havoc.

“I would like to think so, miss. I done lived here all my life and ain’t had much trouble. Save for a few youngins stealin’ from my wife’s garden.”

At that, you slide off your stool and lean against the bar. “That’s how this town should stay, wouldn’t you agree, safe?”

He merely nods. “Anyone would be a fool to deny it.”

The shot glass is shattered against the wooden bar as you slam it down in seething rage and lurch over the bar to grab onto his collar. “So god help me, Alden. Help me understand, friend. Why are there O’Driscoll boys camped at every damn corner ‘round here?”

In an attempt to diffuse the situation, the middle aged man raised his hands in surrender. “I ain’t sure, miss. This is the first I’m hearin’ about any of them boys ‘round here. I swear!”

You shove the man backward, and point your finger at him. “If I hear as much as a whisper that Colm O’Driscoll has been in here all friendly like with you, you’re done, you hear me Alden?”

“I’ll write to you if he shows his face here, I—I swear miss.”

Satisfied with his answer, you fix his collar that you’d just roughened up. “I’ll be in touch, friend.”

Goddamn saloon was full of cowards, entire building full of half drunk patrons that didn’t have the gall to stand up to you, or even give a shout of any word about Colm, surely one of his men were amongst the yellow faced crowd of drunks. They, with any hope, would send word to Colm. Perhaps if the man himself managed to grow a spine over the next week, you’d face off with him yourself.

All you wanted was to look that sack of sorry shit in the eye and make him pay, make things right—

“Miss?” A deep voice calls to you. He’s an odd looking feller. Tall, dark hair and a strangely styled moustache.

Pausing your steps on the creaky and ever splitting wooden steps to your hitched horse, taking a moment to inspect the man. Armed, of course, and it seemed he had a friend with him. Taller, broader, probably his first hand man.

“The hell you two fellers want?”

The older man raises his hands. “Just to talk, that is all. I couldn’t help but overhear you speaking of Colm O’Driscoll.”

Every limb in your body reacts, muscles tighten, every hamstring pulled taut. “If you are one of his boys, this ain’t gonna end well for you.”

The man laughs. “You are sorely mistaken, miss. That man and I.. have an extensive past, but I assure you, it is not favourable.”

He's gained your attention, and a few seconds to explain himself before you drop him with a bullet in the middle of town. “So who are you then, hm? Some rich prick he’s stolen from? I don’t work with no goddamn law neither.”

“Let me ease your mind, miss. My name is Dutch Van Der Linde. This is my associate, Arthur Morgan.” He gestures to his buddy, who finally steps out from behind Dutch.

Younger, burly, goddamn handsome bastard.

“I heard a bit about you lot. So what’s all this got to do with you, or me? This Colm business.”

Arthur piped up this time. His hands sliding into his Jean pockets as he leans against a wooden foundation pole to look down at you. “Maybe we could help each other out. We’ve even havin’ our own issues with Colm for years.”

A huff escapes you. “That so? Why ain’t you killed him yet then? Suppose you recruit buffoons from the doomed circus from Saint Denis?”

Dutch laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder as he steps down the saloon steps to attempt a more personal proposition.

“You sure seem like you know how to manage yourself, miss. I suggest joining forces to kill that bastard once and for all.”

Looking between the men, perhaps this was a stupid idea. But they clearly weren’t Colm’s men, in simple regard to intellect and presentation.

“Try anything,” you warn lowly, lowering your hand to rest on your holstered pistol.

Dutch pats your shoulder. “Come now, if nothin’ else we are men of our word, wouldn’t you agree Arthur?”

“Sure,” Arthur replied with a sigh.

Real reassuring, damned jackass.

“Lead the way.” Nodding your head at the men, you unhitch your horse and mount the sturdy beast. The men go ahead and you follow on behind, keeping a deadly eye on them, and your surroundings.

“It’s alright girl, I know.” Marbelle whinny’s as you kick your spurs into her side and accelerates to keep up with the men.

It’s a short journey on a main trail way until you reach their camp.

“Everyone listen up. We have found ourselves an ally, one that is going to help us succeed in killing Colm O’Driscoll. Once and for all!” The unfamiliar faces cheer at Dutch’s hollow promise, although you wish it were true.

Arthur puts a hand behind your back, hovering above the material of your shirt to assist you in dismounting, which you sent a steely glare. Like you hadn’t dismounted your own damn horse before. “Come with me. Spose I’ll get you settled in.”

Reluctantly, you follow the man. The camp was nice, Horseshoe Overlook, many times had you followed the trailway past but never through. These people had some sense, camping off the trail, onto a flat near water. A decent camp set up with a boiling pot of.. whatever the hell that sloppy brown substance is.. and a pot of coffee.

Naturally people stare, which you don’t reciprocate the smiles, you’re not here for a goddamn social calling.

“I’ll set you up next to me, got a fire nearby an’ all so you should be fine through the evenin’ with it cooling down and such.”

Eyeing the man, you huff. “Thank ya, don’t plan on stayin’ long though.”

“Course not, not like that’s what these folk said too,” he laughs in amusement.

A deep rooted sense of anger gnaws at you. “I ain’t like them.”

He studies you, helping string up the material to a pole with some rope creating a makeshift tent for you. “If you say so. What’s your name anyways.”

A lurch in your heart, the name you haven’t uttered in months, now surfacing with all of the rotten, supple and corrupt grief you’ve tried to suppress for years. “Mrs Simmons.”

Arthur seems to recognise some of the deep rooted resentment as you speak and hums in acknowledgment. “Well, Mrs Simmons. Best get some rest. I’m sure Dutch will be botherin’ you first thing tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr Morgan.”

“Don’t mention it.” He doesn’t walk far off, his bedroll is on top of a small cot on the other side of a wagon that also supports the quick makeshift tent for you.

Being surrounded by people again was odd.. almost made you yearn for more company. Most of the evenin’ you lie awake, the breeze is cutting through the thin bedroll of yours and the fire had snuffed out long ago. The locket on your skin felt heavy, burdened with the image, the root of your suffering.

How could you sleep? When all that was on your mind was that coward Colm O’Driscoll. If Dutch was any use to you at all, perhaps you’d be seeing justice sooner than you anticipated.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A New Sheriff In Town

Summary: The reader takes over as acting Sheriff when Beau is forced to be out on leave. Except the normally friendly Beau is anything but when he finds out it’s up to the reader when he comes back to work…

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Marshal!reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, mentioned kidnapping/betrayal

A/N: Was missing Beau over the hiatus and came up with this little glimpse of him!...

________

“Hello?” You popped your head up from your laptop, smiling at the handsome, albeit tired, looking man in front of you.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” you said, standing from your chair. He nodded, a confused smile crossing his face.

“Not that I normally don’t mind finding an attractive woman in my presence, but do you care to explain to me what you’re doing in my office, at my desk?” You smiled and pushed your jacket away from your hip, showing off your badge. 

“US Marshal Y/N Y/L/N. I’m the interim sheriff while you are on medical leave.” His face flashed between alarm, anger and back to alarm in the span of a second. “Take it up with your boss if you have a problem with it.”

“I am fine. I-”

“Beau Arlen,” you said, picking up a file, flipping through a few pages. “You were kidnapped for the past two days, correct? Rescued yesterday afternoon with minor injuries.”

“Exactly. Minor,” he said, snatching the file out of your hands. You looked him up and down. He was handsome when he wasn’t scowling at you like you kicked his puppy. “Now call your damn boss and let me get back to my job.”

“Funny. Everyone around here tells me you’re as sweet as can be, a nice, happy guy. But you’re being a bit of a dick. You know why?”

“Because you’re in my fucking office!” he said. 

“Some injuries you don’t see. Now I am sorry but I’m in charge and-”

“Why isn’t Deputy Hoyt interim sheriff?” he said, tossing the file on the desk. “She’s my number two. Why-”

“Deputy Hoyt is visiting her son at college. She has too many unused vacation days and she was far more willing when I told her to take a leave of absence.”

“She would never-”

“She would because she did. Don’t be the fucking tough guy. Go home. Talk to a therapist. Binge watch Netflix and eat junk food. I don’t care. But know you do not get back in that chair until I authorize it and you are far from it.”

His eye twitched and he huffed, storming out, slamming the door along the way. You groaned and sat back down, the door opening after a moment, one of your deputies poking his head in. “Yeah Poppernak?”

“He’s really nice when you get to know him,” he said with a sheepish smile. “He’s just…”

“I know.” You held out the file Beau had thrown down, Poppernak walking inside to take it from you. “What’s he like? Hobbies, food, stuff like that.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me deputy.”

“Are you going to harass me at my home too?” scoffed Beau the second you were out of your truck, approaching his air streamer that evening.

“Anyone ever tell you that you live in the most gorgeous trailer in the world? God, you could charge newlyweds a whole bunch of cash just so they could bang for the night under the stars.” He grumbled as you reached inside your truck across the bench and pulled out a bag, smiling as you approached him. He was wearing a jacket and jeans, feet barefoot as he sat in a lounge chair in front of a nice large fire pit. 

You stepped up onto the deck, offering the bag to him. 

“Go away.”

“Wow. You really are being a jerk. It’s a good thing I’m here then,” you said. You sat the bag down on his table, pulling out a pair of containers and a DVD. You carried one over to him, setting it in his lap. He eyed it suspiciously before flipping it open, a large sandwich and side of fries inside.

“This is a meat lovers from Donno’s diner,” he said, voice rough.

“I don’t know who Donno is but I did some recon and it turns out Beau Arlen, you are a man that appreciates a good meal. I love a fellow foodie,” you said, holding up the DVD. “And because I know you love your movies too, I brought my favorite romance, The American President. Now I know, not a classical romance but you’ll like it.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. You pushed up your jacket and shirt on your right side, exposing your torso where a faded pink scar shown bright on your skin.

“My spotter fucked up on one of my cases as a Marshall. I got kidnapped and only a little hurt like someone I know. But it fucks you up and it’ll keep fucking you up until you deal with it. Now that’s the job of your department therapist but at home comforts help too.”

“That’s a scar from getting your appendix out.”

“Alright,” you said, sitting down in the chair beside him. “You caught me. But that did happen to my old partner so I know it’s true.”

“Listen,” he said, setting the food aside. “I appreciate the dinner and while normally I’m a much more pleasant person, can you leave and let me have my station back?”

You sighed, Beau rolling his eyes. “Sorry bud. Enjoy the forced vacation.”

“I don’t like you!” he called as you headed back for your truck.

“Never met a cop who has!” you shouted back with a wave. You kept a smile until you were back in your car, slowly closing your eyes.

This was not the relaxing vacation you were hoping for.

“Marshal,” said Beau the next day, trying to walk past you into the station.

“Sheriff,” you said, curling a finger at him, enjoying your cup of coffee on your morning break. “Take a step in that building and I’ll have you arrested.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said, walking straight on inside. 

“I warned him,” you said to yourself, finishing off your coffee before going in after him. He was in his office when you got there, adjusting the height of his chair. “Beau Arlen you’re under arrest for violating direct orders from your superior.”

He chuckled, grabbing a pad of paper. “That’s real cute. Why don’t you-Hey!”

You shoved him down on the desk, cuffing him and dragging him out the side entrance, avoiding most of the other officers. “I told you.”

“Oh I swear I’m calling your boss and getting you fired,” he growled. You just whistled, guiding him outside and over to his truck. “Marshal-“

“Be anywhere but here. The more you resist, the longer I stay. Period.” You uncuffed him, Beau rubbing his wrists, faded red marks marring his skin. He huffed, opening his door when you put a hand on it. “Please listen to me.”

He simply jerked the door open, driving away without saying another word.

Two Weeks Later

“Oh come on,” said a gruff male voice. You turned around from where you were fishing, perched on a rock along the river, Beau meeting your gaze. He had a baseball cap on and a fishing pole in his hand. “Are you stalking me or some shit?”

“We can share. Plenty of fish,” you said, Beau grumbling before he walked over, sitting nearby. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yup. Now when exactly can I get back to work?”

“When I say so.”

“This is a total abuse of power you realize.”

“This isn’t how I wanted to spend my vacation either so don’t be pissed off at me,” you said, reeling in your line a smidge. 

“Then why are you acting as sheriff?”

“Because I have experience and I wasn’t personally affected by your kidnapping like all of your officers were. You came from the outside. I know you understand that.” He hummed, the air quiet save for the sound of running water. 

“So…what exactly do I have to do to convince you to let me back to work and you finish your vacation?” You reeled in your line, packing up your tackle box and standing. “Hey. Where-“

“Because I want to have one relaxing fishing trip and you just don’t stop.” You started to leave when Beau hopped up, chasing after you. 

“Marshal, wait.”

“My name is Y/N,” you said, walking across the rocks carefully, unfortunately giving him a chance to catch up. “Beau just-“

“I’m sorry for being an ass.” You stopped, dropping your head. “I get…I don’t handle trauma well.”

“Who does?” You spun around, Beau smiling softly. “It’s not a punishment. I’m trying to help you.”

“I know. I know I have to deal with it to process it and move past it but it’s…I’m not in a big rush to feel vulnerable like that again.”

“I understand but until you do, I’m in charge around here.” 

“The Marshal service is going to just let you stay here however long you tell them?”

“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh sweetie, playing on the federal level is a whole other game of office politics.”

“So who fucked you over?” he asked. You breathed slowly, even.

“You know that story I told you about my partner getting captured? That was really me and my partner fucked me over on purpose after I expressed concerns to my supervisor. No internal case and I get to do whatever the fuck I want now. My pick of cases, my choice of vacations, whatever I want I get all to cover up for his fuck up of a son.” Beau blinked, smiling softly. “What?”

“You let me go off on you when you’ve gone through shit that I dismissed. You’ve been nothing but nice and it sounds like you keep getting surrounded by dickheads,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re not a dick. You’re processing,” you said. He nodded back at the river. 

“It’s a big river. We could share.” 

“Alright. But keep the gabbing down. Fish’ll hear ya.”

Three Hours Later

“So did you make some sort of deal with the fish devil?” asked Beau as you headed back towards your vehicles, a storm rolling in. “Because you caught close to twenty by my count and I caught a whopping one.”

“You’re right,” you said, packing up the back of your truck. “I’m part of the trout cult. We sell our souls to be able to catch and release some fish on our days off.”

“You’re joking, right?” You rolled your eyes, shutting your lift gate. “Hey, you never know what people are into.”

“This job has taught me one and that is that you definitely cannot judge a book by it’s cover.” 

“Marshal.” You pursed your lips, Beau stepping closer. “Y/N. Do you want to get out of the rain, grab a cold beer in a warm bar?”

“Follow me. I know a place.”

Twenty minutes later you were sat in a corner booth near a fireplace, Beau looking around the small bar. 

“How’d you find this place?” he asked after you had your drinks, a basket of fries between you. You took a short sip, leaning back.

“I was feeling pretty shitty a number of years back after the partner betrayal thing. Just drove and drove for days. I wound up in Helena, drove around until I found a bar and then proceeded to get shit faced in this booth.” 

Beau munched on a fry, taking off his jacket while he chewed. “You’ve been in Montana all this time?”

“No. The bartender called me a cab and booked me a motel room when I broke down. I stayed there a few days feeling sorry for myself before I sobered up and went back to Knetucky. That’s when I gave my boss a list of demands for not saying shit about his son. After that, I bounced around working solo cases, mostly money trails, until I came back here. Now I work a remote desk job, help out local law enforcement when needed. Found some peace and comfort along the way.” 

He nodded, fiddling with his beer bottle. “You should work for me.”

“Beau.”

“I’m serious,” he said, green eyes flickering over to you. “If you’re a Marshal you could easily pass the exams. You could work the field again with people you trust. My people are clean.”

“I know. I can tell you run a tight ship,” you said, his head tilting. “I don’t think I’m cut out for field work anymore.”

“This is Helena, not Detroit,” he chuckled. “You’d be a deputy, have seniority, get to run investigations. It wouldn’t be all that different than what you do now I’m sure.”

“You offering me a job so you can get back to work sooner?” you teased. He held up his hands, smiling proudly.

“Nope. I know a good cop when I see one is all.”

“I’m a US Marshal, Sheriff. I outrank you for all intents and purposes.” 

“Well…I don’t have a good reason to give that up,” he chuckled. “But we could find a desk space for you in the office, when I do eventually go back to work. It’d be nice to have someone with such superior expertise at our disposal.”

You flipped him the bird, Beau laughing against the rim of his bottle, taking a long drag. “Offers on the table is all I’m saying.”

“I work better alone Beau. But, when you are back in charge, call me up if you need a local Marshal.”

“Will do,” he said, tipping his bottle towards you. You clinked it with your own, the air turning warmer, heat from the fireplace spilling out. “Any advice on how to get over the whole…you know.”

“Accept that you were afraid, that you could have died, and that you aren’t weak because of it. The people we help every day aren’t weak because something bad happened to them. They just had bad shit happen and that’s it. That’s all it was Beau. Something bad. You’ll feel better with time and the more you start to believe that.”

He nodded, gaze fixated on the table in front of you. “Sorry for being a dick before.”

“Sorry for being pushy.” 

“I needed it,” he said with a smile.

“Oh I know,” you laughed. He chuckled, stealing another fry from the basket. “So. How’d a Texas boy like you wind up here?”

“Like you don’t already know,” he said, face softening. You shrugged.

“Yeah but I’d rather hear your version.”

“Alright. Be careful what you wish for though.”

Two Weeks Later

“Marshal Y/L/N,” said Beau behind a pair of sunglasses, badge back on his hip. You smiled behind your own, crossing your arms as you stopped beside him, looking into the back of the overturned truck on the highway. “I think we found the money from that bank robbery in Washington last week.”

“Looks like you did. You got to love when criminals are morons,” you said, peeking your head into the back. You cocked your head, scanning the scattered bills. “You’re missing about five million.”

“How can you tell?” he asked, looking inside with you. 

“One duffel bag fits about five million. The bank reported fifty stolen. But you only have-”

“Nine bags,” he said, straightening up, lips pursed. “Let’s talk to the driver.”

“Mind if I take lead?” you asked. He waved you forward, letting you approach the man cuffed at the end of Poppernak’s squad car. “Hey Joe. I know you know you’re in deep shit so let’s skip the small talk. I know you crashed on purpose and I know you’re supposed to take the blame and we’re supposed to assume you have the other five million stashed somewhere. But we both know that’s not the truth. So why don’t you tell us who is actually behind this and we will go find your girlfriend for you, maybe even find a bit of leniency for you. What do you say?”

Thirty minutes later you were in Beau’s truck, tapping your fingers against the door panel. “Okay. How the fuck did you do that?”

“Marshal service suspected the bank manager was behind it. Joe Niven is a guard at work there, been missing several days. But so has Joe’s girlfriend. Now one could assume they were on the run together but Joe’s girlfriend didn’t show up to work for two days before the robbery happened. I had a gut feeling it was coercion. Joe confirmed that.”

“How can we trust his word?” he asked, turning down a road, a trail of police cars after you. 

“His knuckles were scrapped up and he had bruises on his biceps like someone dragged him back. They showed him the girlfriend, Joe got pissed and they separated him from her before he had a chance to get her out. He couldn’t have grabbed himself like that, fingertips are all wrong.”

“Why would he trust us then?”

“Because the robbery was days ago and Joe wouldn’t still be doing what they asked if the girlfriend was free. It’s going to leak soon they found the money on the highway. When it does, that girlfriend is dead which is why we’re going to Elden pass. He said he heard howling in the background. Wolves migrate through Elden pass this time of year and yes, the only reason I know that is because I’m a documentary nerd.”

“You have no idea how much I want you to take that job offer.” You smirked, nerves crawling up your spine. “You got my back in there?”

You turned in your seat, brow furrowed. “You want me going into the scene?”

“You have more tactical experience than any of my people and it’s my first run back. I could use a steady hand with me.”

“Beau, I haven’t been-”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle yourself.” You closed your eyes, nodding to yourself. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed out. “I got your back.”

“Nice job in there,” said Beau an hour later, the sunset making his hair seem golden. You were leaned against his truck, Beau sliding over to stand beside you. “Thank you. I know it was dangerous going in to get Jane out.”

“I was scared to death,” you said, running a hand over the thick, heavy vest you wore. “But as soon as we went in, that went away. I’ve been terrified of real field work for years and I thought it was because of what had happened but really, it’s because I didn’t trust anyone after that. But I did today. I trusted you and your people and because of that, we were able to save that woman.”

“I’m not joking when I say I’d love for you to work with us regularly, even on a consultant basis.”

“Maybe I do need a change.” You looked over at him, Beau smiling wide. “I’ll think about it. No promises.”

“That’s all I can ask. In the meantime, you want to come to movie night? We can watch my new favorite drama chick flick.” 

“You watched it!” you said, eyes wide. “What did you think? Tell me everything.”

“I think it is the most random ass excuse for a chick flick I’ve ever seen yet I really enjoyed it. So you want to come over and watch? We could order a pizza, unwind after a long day.” 

“I’d love that, Beau.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, a spark rushing up your spine.

“See you at my place in an hour.” He didn’t walk away though. Instead he smiled, leaned down and placed a soft, lazy kiss on your lips. You were surprised to say the least. You knew you were getting friendlier but you weren’t expecting that. He pulled back, letting the kiss linger before his eyes were taking in your face. “You know what I liked about that movie? She doesn’t give a fuck that he’s the president. He’s just a guy she likes. And he goes for it despite how horribly wrong it could all go cause he comes with a lot of baggage and that should scare her but it doesn’t. And even though he’s got to do something that goes against her, they still find a way to make it work in the end. Reminds me of this idiot guy I know.”

“Beau,” you whispered as he played with the end of your hair. “Is tonight a date?”

“You tell me.” You put a hand on his chest, tapping the spot where his name was woven into his vest.

“Make it a supreme pizza,” you said. “I ain’t a girl that hides how much she loves to eat on the first date.”

“You got it,” he said, his smile faltering only slightly when someone called his name. “Let yourself in if you get there before me. Key is under the patio chair.”

“You’d trust me with a key to your house?” you asked as he walked away.

“I trusted you the whole time, Y/N. Just took a while to admit it to myself,” he said, spinning around with a grin. “See you later, Marshal.”

“Yes you will, Sheriff.”

__________

[allzelemonz]

The O’Driscoll Golden Boy: Colm O’Driscoll X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘feller’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, murder, implied mutilation, references to castration Warnings: Power dynamics, power imbalance, oral sex, face fucking, deep throating, praise, abuse/unhealthy relationship, marking, possessive behavior, outdoor sex, semi-public sex, facial, humiliation, slight aftercare, hints of fluff if you really squint, homophobia, period-typical heavy homophobia Summary: Colm’s golden boy made a little mistake. The boss doesn’t like that.

Every job always goes smoothly. Every job. Not once have you ever messed up. Not like this. Riding with the O’Driscolls has always been fun so long as Colm is pleased, and Colm is always pleased with you. Pleased enough to drag you into his bed and show you what being the golden boy really means. But tonight… tonight you won’t even be making it back to camp, let alone your boss’s cabin and that big warm bed he’s had these past few weeks.

No, tonight you got caught.

Frankly you should consider yourself very lucky to be breathing.

Sheriff nearly broke your arm hog tying you though, probably shouldn’t be happy about that. He acts like he’s some god when he and his deputies get you in a cell. Something about a bounty having just been raised. Your head’s too fogged from getting hit and your arm hurts far too much to care anyway. Last poster you saw had upwards of a thousand, but that was about a big job further out West. Who knows which state you’re even in at this rate.

Then one of them says it. “Colm O’Driscoll’s golden boy!”

It’s a sneer, mocking and provoking, as they all turn to look at you. You’ve sat down on the floor of the cell, nowhere else to sit and your feet and legs are tired from running. You almost want to stand just so they’re not looking down on you, but in the end you find yourself much too tired to care.

“Should hang ‘em ourselves.” One of the deputies says. “Heard he’s done some sick shit.”

Of course you have. Colm asked you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

Another deputy pulls a paper from the wall, tossing it on the table and letting it glide and spin. Your bounty poster, you assume. Terrible drawings really, they always are. It frankly surprises you anyone ever gets found.

“Wanted for murder, horse theft…”

You tune out the list of crimes, knowing all of them won’t even be listed on the little space. If they actually wrote everything out there wouldn’t be much room left to put your name and bounty, let alone a picture. It does leave out a lot of details though, important details in your opinion.

“He the one what did those robberies up along the forest, killed those families?”

Yes. You are. They had money, more than they needed. At first you asked nicely, then you didn’t. Business is business and it got you a nice reward from your boss.

“Couple damn orphans came outta that string.”

They’re fine. You even took them into town and gave them some bread and cheese. Boys wanted to shoot them too, you’re a saint in comparison.

“An’ he’s runnin’ with Colm O’Driscoll.” One of them glares at you. “Bet some a’ his charges could trickle down.”

Sure they could. You’ve helped Colm with plenty of things you’ve never seen yourself charged with. Not that you want to recall any of that or have it formally charged. You only kept your mouth shut about it all because you’re smart enough to be deadly loyal when it comes to Colm. You’d never say no to his orders or his requests. That would be stupid.

“I heard he got sodomy in the next state over too.”

Oh, that was a fun clash with the law. Colm fucking you in a back alley in some big city only for a lawman to find you, add charges for you but not Colm. Bullshit really, but it was such a good time that you recall it with fondness. You got rewarded for getting away when you got back to camp after all.

“Love ta see ‘em hang.”

If it would get them to shut up, you might opt for it. You’re starting to get a headache from all the hitting and incessant discussion of your crimes. Your guns aren’t that far away. If they just happened to drink a little more of that whiskey they pulled out to celebrate, got nice and distracted, you might be able to swipe them.

“It’s a three-thousand dollar bounty.” The sheriff snaps. “We’re takin’ ‘em ta the city.”

A trip to the city, a poorly guarded jail car, easy target. If not that, then easy lock picking. But you know the boys that got away will run back to camp with their tails between their legs, tell Colm all that happened, and seeing as Colm had said plenty of dirty things in your ear before you left, he will be a little upset that you didn’t come back like you always do. Cash in hand, happy to take the reward Colm is so desperate to give you. You used to think that’s all it was, the boss giving his best, his golden boy, a reward for doing well on a job. But Colm slips up in his facade sometimes, enough to see he doesn’t just want to fuck his golden boy.

There have been times where you’ve woken up, pretended to sleep, while Colm presses very uncharacteristically sweet kisses all over your face. There’s the occasional exchange before a shootout where he steps in front of you as if you need protecting. Little things a cruel outlaw might do when in love with his dear golden boy. Not that Colm would ever admit anything like that. No, he’ll hide it and let out his frustrations about not being able to act sweet by fucking you senseless under the guise of rewards.

And you have been well aware of this for years now. Not that you’d ever bring it up.

“Could at least let some widows an’ orphans rest a little easy…” One of the deputies says with a slur to his voice. “Hard ta shoot folk without no hands.”

A few of them laugh and you find yourself looking at your hands. You are quite attached to your hands, both in the literal and figurative sense. Though you can think of a few ways to pull a trigger without them, you’d still rather keep them.

“I’d rather castrate ‘em.”

That gets more laughter. It’s an idiotic joke in itself. Once again, you’re quite attached to your dick and would like to keep it and its friends. But, just like the shooting, there are other ways you can think of to get around the loss of an appendage. Colm hardly touches it half the time anyway. Still would rather keep it though.

“Who’s ta say he ain’t cause us some problems.” Another laughs. “Could give ‘em a good beatin’.”

At the rate they’ve gotten themselves drunk, you would like to see them try. One of the deputies stumbles past the others. They watch as he takes out the keys, snickering and giving light cheers as he glares down at you. The second that door opens it will become very easy to take his gun and shoot the drunken fools. Though it is tempting to only disarm a few, maybe pay them their own threats before finishing them off.

But then the large front door to the sheriff’s office opens and several men flood inside. All thankfully featuring green somewhere on their bodies. The drunk lawmen drop to the ground as the boys shoot out their legs. They cry and whimper until blows land on their heads and the boys tell them to shut up. The man by your cell sputters as he tries for his gun, the same one that recommended hanging you. A hole forms in his head and he falls, keys dropping to the floor. Of course it’s Colm that stands with his gun raised, an irritated look across his features.

One of the boys scrambles for the keys, unlocking the door as you stand. You walk out and stop yourself in front of Colm like the obedient dog you have become in his presence. Very slowly, he runs his hand over your chest until his fingers curl tightly into your shirt. He tugs you closer, glaring and angry in having to rescue his dear golden boy.

“Anythin’ ya wanna say, boy?”

You shake your head, knowing better than to say what needs to be said in front of the boys. Not that they don’t know, but that you’d rather hang than look as pathetic as you let yourself become in Colm’s hands.

“They treat ya nice?” He asks, his grip on your shirt loosening ever so slightly.

Your eyes trace over the men, finding the familiar faces that laughed about torture. “Sheriff’s fine, not those two.”

Colm follows your gaze. “Any recommendations?” He releases you, turning to look at the men cowing on the ground. “Boys deserve a little fun since we came all this way.”

And those men very much taste their own words. Colm doesn’t think you deserve to see such a fun little party, so he drags you outside by the collar. But the screams, they sound much better than the laughs.

“Ya wanna explain yerself, boy?” Colm seethes, throwing you roughly against the stone wall that makes up the side of the sheriff’s office.

It’s too dark to see his face. Too late for people to be out and about, even with the screaming. This town is small, surrounded by gangs, no one would be so stupid to leave their home right now.

You stumble a bit, settling yourself against the wall, knowing very well Colm wants you where he puts you. “Can’t explain it, boss. The detonator should have worked.”

His hand winds into your hair, pulling you towards him. The pain shoots through your scalp, a good half of it running down to your dick knowing Colm’s habits. In the dim light of a lantern you can now see his face with the proximity. Perhaps his habits won’t be holding up, he looks rather displeased.

“And why is that?” He asks and you can practically feel the mocking in his voice.

He knows. He must know you messed up. His golden boy made a mistake, something that’s never happened before. You’re not entirely sure how he’ll react to it. But maybe you can talk your way out.

“Seamus probably.” You say as smoothly as you can with the grimace on your face Colm’s rough tugging brings on. “He’s the one that wired things.”

Faster than you can blink, Colm shoves your head back into the wall. The impact with the stone does nothing for your headache, even makes you see stars a little. Your vision is double and shaky as Colm grips harshly onto your cheek to make you look at him, his other hand still gripping at your hair. For a few seconds you see two of his angry face, but as he speaks it settles into one.

“I ain’t a fool, boy.” He hisses. “Ya messed up, lost me a lotta money.”

You groan as his hand tightens in your hair, the stinging not bringing any more pleasure and solely burning through your scalp.

“Here I thought you was perfect.”

That almost stings more than your head. Colm’s praises always keep you going and disappointing him is not something you ever want to do again.

“‘m sorry, boss.” You rasp. “I-I…”

Colm presses his nails into your skin, deep enough to leave marks across your face. “Shut yer damn mouth, pretty boy.”

You nod slightly in his grip, only unable to keep yourself from whimpering at the fresh pain. You can feel something trickle, something wet. By the momentary smirk on Colm’s face, you guess he’s drawn blood, perhaps even done enough to leave scars. Scars embedded into your cheek, Colm’s nails forever digging into your skin.

“Get on yer knees now, boy.”

His grip releases, pain no longer focusing where his hands were and now spreading back to your head as you drop to your knees. You land rough, not wanting to make Colm any more upset, not wanting to disappoint him again. With somewhat hungry eyes, you watch as he unfastens his pants. He pushes his gunbelt up, situating things around as he pulls out his dick. Long and thin, achingly hard, everything you remember. But you’ve never been on your knees before, never had your face so close.

“Fuckin’s a reward, pretty boy.” He grunts, pressing his dick to your lips. “Ya haven’t been very good.”

You don’t dare move without his order. There have been times where he’s thrown you out of his bed for being too eager, made you sit on the floor while he dealt with himself. But that was when he was happy with you, when his dear golden boy hadn’t made any mistakes. You fear what he might do if you make even a single move of your own. So you sit on your knees, taking in the musky scent of the thing you’re supposed to put in your mouth. You wouldn’t particularly describe Colm as a clean man.

He drags his tip along your chin and up to your cheek. You’d give anything for a bit more light to see his face but you’d likely die on the spot if anyone saw you like this. For a moment it stings and you know it’s rubbing over one of Colm’s marks on your cheek, the one his thumb made by your eye. You make a note to clean yourself thoroughly after this. As much as you want to please Colm, to hear his praises, you don’t want some infection from his unwashed dick rubbing into a cut on your face. He seems to enjoy doing though, and for a moment you shutter at the thought of what he would be doing if you had something as large as a stab wound instead.

Then his hand returns to your hair, tugging roughly enough to snap you out of any thought and make your focus turn entirely on him. He tilts your head back and you provide no resistance. Every step of the way, he guides your head. Pressing softly to your lips and urging you down onto him, you open your mouth without question. As he slides through your mouth you taste every inch on him. He certainly hasn’t bathed in a while and you could guess that from his hair, but this really sells it. He tastes like sweat and dirt and dried pomade. And as he forces himself all the way in, hitting the back of your throat as tears form in your eyes, your nose is pressed against an even more foul bunch of pubic hair. It smells like the rest of him, but it’s not nearly as pleasurable as a normal musk might be with the unkempt hairs tickling your nose. For a few seconds he simply sits in your mouth, his dick fully enveloped. You struggle not to panic. You’ve always known he was long, loved it when it hits you so well deep inside where most men could never imagine fucking, but now that he’s shoved himself down your throat you’re not quite as keen.

You can hardly hear his words with how much your head pounds. “Be a good boy an’ sit still.”

Then he moves. You have air for all of a second before he rams himself back in and your throat closes slightly around his tip. It chokes you but it must be the feeling he’s chasing because he does it again and again. At this rate you feel much more like a simple dark, wet hole than a golden boy. But Colm keeps you eager with praises.

“Look at chu, pretty boy.” He mutters. “Such a good boy, always makin’ the boss feel good.”

Of course you do. Colm ordered you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

“Shit, yer such a pretty thing.”

His hand still grips your hair as he forces your movements, fucking your mouth roughly. But his praises come with another hand, soft as he combs through your hair. Two sides of a coin, just like always, reward or punishment.

“Feel so damn good, boy.” He huffs, his hips starting to become erratic. “Always so good fer me, my golden boy.”

With that you can feel the tightness of your pants, but you don’t dare do a thing about it. Not without the boss’s permission, not without Colm’s smile and hungry eyes.

“Sit pretty fer me now.” He orders, pulling back.

His hands leave your hair, his dick slipping from your mouth. It takes a lot of control to stay upright, to not keel over and gasp for breath. Instead you stay as he left you, sputtering coughs and little gasps as your eyes fix on him. He works himself fast, his hand moving roughly against sensitive skin slicked by its time fucking into your throat. You close your eyes when he grunts, feeling warm streaks across your face a second later. As Colm hums to himself, you keep still. You feel the air around you shift as he kneels down in front of you. His lips press against yours, kiss slicked by his cum on your lips. He holds you still, his hand gripping that same spot in your hair with the same roughness as he kisses you deeply. Faintly, you feel something else against your skin. It rubs over your eyes and over your cheek. When Colm pulls back from his kissing you open your eyes.

He holds a rag in hand, running it over the cuts he made to keep them somewhat clean for the moment. His face holds a focus, but nothing else. No anger, no gentleness, simply focus as he wipes his cum off of some of your face. Not all, just what’s necessary, just your eyes and injuries. Then he tosses the rag to the ground, his other hand still tightly holding you in place by the hair. His eyes look over you, tracing along where you can feel the now cooling bits of him still on your skin. You take a sharp inhale as his free hand grips roughly onto your straining dick. His eyes bore into yours, anger now clear on his face.

“No more mistakes, pretty boy.” He warns. “I much prefer fuckin’ ya normal.”

You give him a small nod. “Yes, sir.”

He squeezes your dick. “My golden boy don’t make mistakes, do he?”

“No, sir.” You gasp out.

“An’ he’s gonna make that money back so I can fuck ‘em senseless, ain’t he?” His hand kneads down into your dick, giving it much needed friction.

“Fuck…” You groan. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He removes his hand, the other tugging tightly at your hair to make you focus on his face again. “Take them boys ‘n get me my money, pretty boy.”

You hold back a whimper from the lack of contact. “Yes, sir.”

He tugs again. “No cleanin’ up either, ya deserve what ya got.”

Then he releases you, standing as you fall on your hands and knees to the ground. You breathe heavily as he walks away, catching your breath and gaining your senses. You have blood drying along cuts from Colm’s nails, cum drying on your skin and likely your hair as well, no fit state to face a bunch of the boys. But of course you do. Colm told you to after all. That’s your job. Whatever Colm wants.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Home (Not So) Sweet Home

Chapter Four of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: A trip to jail was not on your list for things to accomplish during the short time you were home in Pigeon Creek. But, like most of the predicaments you find yourself in, it's all thanks to Jake. So much for a half an hour trip into town to get the papers signed and then back to New York soon afterwards. Instead you get a high-speed trip down memory lane as Pigeon Creek, and Jake himself, dredge up ancient history.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: Mentioned miscarriage (non-graphic) Please do not read anything between As your belly grew and the bed sheets if this is an uncomfortable topic for you. I have italicized those sections in this to account for this.

Word Count: 2719

A/N: First of all, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit late! I went shopping today because I needed a new coat and I just got back home! This is the chapter where we get to see a little bit more of Jake and Linley's relationship after the seven year separation they've been on. It's nothing short of explosive! All of my thanks to @desert-fern for beta-reading and refining this chapter for me!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Well, you ended up in jail. You've never once been able to out-dare Jake in your life and you weren't able to out-dare him today either. When Jake had unplugged the phone and taken it to the bedroom, it had been to call the Sheriff. The Sheriff of Pigeon Creek and you have a contentious relationship, to put it lightly. Too many run-ins with the law for your comfort when you were much younger and more foolish. Of course, just as the sirens show up on the front lawn, you're already booking it for the back door. This is the last thing you need, getting arrested on your first day back in Pigeon Creek. The only person you can call other than Jake is your dad. Fuck! Maybe you ought to leave quietly and come back later?

But to your surprise it isn’t the old Sheriff you tormented as a teen. It's Mickey Garcia, and he walks right in through the back door. You grew up with Mickey. He’s Jake’s best friend and somebody Jake loves like a brother. Hell, Mickey was Jake’s best man at your ill-fated wedding. Really, if Jake believes Mickey would ever arrest you, then he has another think coming, or so you thought.

“Well, well, well… If it isn’t Misdemeanor Mitchell!” There’s a huge grin on his face showcasing the new smile lines around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks.

“Mickey?!” You’re wrapped up in your first hug since you got back home and you can’t help the smirk you throw at Jake over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Hot damn, girl, did we miss you around here!” He holds you out at arm length and drinks you in. 

“Hey, I think I saw poor, old Fuzz just the other day.” You laugh at his words because you haven’t thought about Fuzz in years. You hope that old cat is doing well, even after all this time. But, it looks like some things will never change, like how Pigeon Creek is never going to forget why you’re so notorious.

“Oh, God, you just had to bring that up, didn’t you?” You can sense Jake’s irritation from where he’s leaning on the wall and it drives your smile even wider.

“I can't believe you're the sheriff!” The last time you saw Mickey he was moving to college on a baseball scholarship.

It doesn’t surprise you at all when his voice takes on a flirtatious tone. “Yep, I get to frisk pretty little things like you all day and get paid for it!”

Jake’s scoff breaks up the convivial atmosphere. “Mickey, can you try and be a little more professional? We got us a prime suspect here! This woman broke into my house!” 

You just know the man’s smirking again. Is it so hard to just sign some papers and be done with this whole situation? Now he’s dragging Mickey into this? Why the hell is your ex-husband so impossible to live with?

"Aww, Linley, you know that you can't trespass in other people's houses." He's smiling as he looks between Jake and you.

"I'm not trespassing, Mick. I used my key." You tug it out of your bag as proof, noticing how Jake’s eyes darken at the sight of the spare key he’s never known how to find.

"Honey, I'm sorry, but whether you have a key or not, I'm going to have to escort you out of here." He sounds genuinely sorry for your plight.

Jake, of course, has something smart-alecky to say, like always. "In handcuffs please, Mick." 

"Mick, if you can get him to sign these papers, I'll let you run me out of town as fast as you want." You pull the papers out.

“Don’t drag him into this, Linley.” Bullshit. Jake’s the one that dragged Mickey into this. He could have just signed the papers and you’d have left town fifteen minutes after you’d blown in. He wanted to play hardball, hardball is what he’s going to get. You hand the papers to Mick and watch Jake’s expression change even as a smug grin curls your lips.

"Sorry, man. If you're still married, this is her house too. So at most, this is a domestic disturbance. I don’t see anything to arrest anybody for." He turns back to you with a wink. "Unless, that is, Jake hit you. Now, honey, you'll tell me if Jake over there ever hurts you in any way, right? Cause we take that kinda thing seriously now."

Jake's face falls just a little as you glance coolly over his grease streaked face. You’re not sure what he thinks you’re going to say. But the realization feels like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. He thinks you’re going to lie and say despicable things about him, doesn’t he?

Your voice is soft, softer than it has any right to be."Naw, Mickey. Jake's never hurt me. Not a day in his life." 

Jake tries any and every way to get you out of the house. But none of them work until he mentions how Mrs. Garcia's tractor ended up in the pond and how there was an open warrant out for the perpetrator still. That rat bastard. 

Now you're sitting in a chair in front of Mickey's desk wearing handcuffs contemplating who you can call to get you out of jail. Mickey's on the phone with his ma, letting her curse you out in Spanish. You don't really have many options. Your dad and Jake are the only two people who'd ever bail you out if you were in trouble. For obvious reasons you can't call Jake. So your dad it is.

You dial the number you've known by heart for most of your life and have barely used for the past seven years and wait. It's only a few minutes before he picks up.

"Hello?" He sounds exhausted, like he does after working a particularly grueling shift at the shop.

"Dad? Surprise, it's Linley!" His voice makes you feel safe.

"Hi, kiddo! This is a surprise! I wasn't expecting to hear from you for a while!" That statement hurts.

"Dad, it's not the call that's the surprise. I'm actually in town." His little intake of breath has tears flooding to your eyes.

"Really? Well, kiddo, you didn't have to call. You can drop by the house anytime you want." After the fight you had before you left, how can he still welcome you home?

"I know, Dad. But that's not why I called. I'm in custody at the Pigeon Creek Police Department." 

You can hear his fond smile with every word and it makes your eyes roll. "I should've known you would have already gotten into trouble. I'll be there in fifteen, kiddo. I love you." 

You murmur your love back and settle back into the chair to wait. It’s a formality after your dad works through the doors of the Sheriff’s Office to get you out of handcuffs. You may have had to profusely apologize to Mrs. Garcia, but at least you’re not in a jail cell for the night.

Of course, as soon as you’re in your dad’s truck, he lets you have it. Mickey had kindly offered to drop your rental car off, so your bags are in the backseat.

“You just got into town. How in the world did you end up in jail again, huh?” He sounds so relaxed at having rescued his only child from jail. Since this was not an uncommon occurrence in your teenage years, it’s a little shocking that he’s not more worked up about this. After all, you’re twenty-five and an adult. Childish things like getting dragged off to the Sheriff’s office should be behind you.

You shrug as your dad drives you home. The roads are dark, illuminated only by the streetlights spitting out fat pools of golden light. “Jake and his big fat mouth. It’s just a misunderstanding, Daddy.”

“Why don’t you try to fix things with Jake, kiddo?” You sink a little bit deeper into the seat. “I went to all that trouble to pay for that wedding after all.”

“Daddy! That was hardly a wedding! He was hungover, threw up all over my dress and then I had to go to our reception alone, in my puke covered dress while he got to sleep off his hangover. It’s not exactly a wedding I want to remember.” It fills you with disgust to think of the heirloom lace of your Grandmother’s wedding dress getting ruined like that. You’d managed to save it, of course, but it’s something you still haven’t forgotten. That first night should have been the first evidence that you and Jake would never work out. But you were young and stupid and in love. So you disregarded every bit of evidence until something big enough came up that you couldn’t ignore anything anymore.

“He’s a good guy. Just give him another chance!” This is why you fought with your dad before you left. He’s always been fond of the Seresins. He has been since your ma skipped out on you both when you were two years old. His soft spot for Jake is so strong that he never sees anything wrong with a single decision he makes - including throwing up on his baby girl on her wedding day and everything else that went wrong afterwards. He’s never once been willing to see that maybe Jake was a little bit to blame as well. But no, that dubious honor only ever went to you.

“You always side with him, daddy! He’s the son you’ve never had, I know. But I’m your daughter. Your only daughter and you don’t even care to know what I’ve been doing with my life?!” Your breathing is a little ragged. This is why you’ve never come home over the past seven years. Why would you when your dad had something better, someone better than you in the boy you’d lost everything to? The hand that covers yours is warm and jolts you out of the impending spiral your thoughts try to yank you into.

“Alright, sweetheart, tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure whether he’s just humoring you, but now’s your chance to tell him. How he’ll take the news and whether he’ll be okay with it, you don’t know. But you have to tell him.

“I… met somebody. He’s a catch. He’s in politics, his family is in politics, and I love him.” Your dad doesn’t so much as blink. The radio’s off and you sit in silence, trying to gain control over your fraying emotions.

It’s not until you’re back in the house that you pickup the conversation again.

“He asked me to marry him, daddy. It’s why I needed to talk to Jake. He needs to finally give me that divorce.” Your dad tugs you onto the sofa and takes your hands in his own.

“Are you sure about him, kiddo?” Your dad’s green eyes look deep into your own. A lot of you may be Pete Mitchell, but the one trait of his you never inherited were his eyes. Your eyes are your mama’s, and most of the time you’re glad her eyes are the only part of her you’ve inherited.

“I - I don’t know, Daddy. He makes me happy when I’m with him. He makes me happier than I have been in a long time.” You’re so confused. Coming back to Pigeon Creek was supposed to be easy. You sit with your dad on the overstuffed sofa facing the tv for a long while. The silence is draining, but you can’t force yourself to get up and walk away or break it. 

It’s your dad who breaks the tense hush overtaking the living room. “Alright, kiddo. If he makes you happy then that means that he’s automatically got my approval. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. We’ll see what we can do about Jake. But right now, your old man needs to get into bed. It’s been a long day for me, and I’m sure it’s been just as long for you. Why don’t you head to bed?” Your nod is mechanical as you walk into your childhood bedroom and lay down. You’re asleep in minutes, but your sleep is anything but satisfactory.

All of a sudden you're thirteen, fifteen and seventeen again, noticing the changes in your best friend, noticing how all the girls see him in a way only you've ever seen him before. You remember the urge to ensure he loved you as much as you loved him. You still remember his words from the day you and Jake were struck by lightning, "Will you marry me, Linley?" 

Ten year old you was an idiot. Jake Seresin, quarterback and All-American heart-throb, wanted you to marry him and you told him no. It's a decision you kick yourself over every now and again, especially when you see Mindy Jefferson making out with Jake behind the bleachers one afternoon. Is it possible to be both jealous and sad at the same time? Because that's what you are.

You spend most of your senior year of high school feeling like that. The night of the last football game of the year is when everything changed. You'd hitched a ride with Jake home, and Pigeon Creek is not the biggest town. You should've guessed something was up when he drove the opposite direction from home. When he kissed you, you'd melted. When he pulled you into the bed of his truck you went willingly. And when he made love to you under the stars, you climaxed with tears in your eyes.

There were tears of a completely different kind in your eyes as you sat in your bathroom with a multitude of drugstore pregnancy tests on the counter in front of you three months later. You had to tell Jake and your dad and his mom. Obviously all of Pigeon Creek knew within an hour. That was why you'd married Jake. For the baby that was half of you and half of him. Other than the aforementioned reception incident, the two of you settled into matrimonial bliss quite easily. Jake gave up his dreams of pro football, deferring college to work at the tire factory. You had taken in mending, sewing, and darning to help. 

As your belly grew, so did your happiness. At least until the night you woke up to red streaking your thighs and staining the bed sheets. After you lost your baby, you weren't sure how to be with Jake, not anymore. He tried to be strong for you, be your rock when you were grieving. But it was just putting more stress on your relationship. You weren’t sure you could ever be enough for Jake, not anymore. The fissures in your relationship became suddenly, wholly apparently clear.

So one day, while Jake was at work, you'd left a note on the bedside table along with your wedding ring and gone to see your dad. You told your dad why you were leaving, fought with him when he objected to your decision and bought a bus ticket to New York with everything you owned in a bag. You've never told another soul why you left, though you’re sure most of Pigeon Creek could assume the reason why, especially considering how you’d been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. You're not sure that even Jake knows the real reason why you left. It wasn't the fights or yelling or how Jake wanted you to stay home when you wanted to chase your dreams, either. It was because you couldn't face him after your body had destroyed the one thing you loved more than Jake - the one thing you only had because of Jake.

Ancient history clouds your thoughts when you wake up the next morning. Your head is in a fog of what was. More than ever you're filled with the urge to leave Pigeon Creek, maybe for good. But first you need to make a couple of phone calls, withdraw some change from the bank and go talk to Jake again. Maybe this time you’ll finally walk away with the divorce signed? If only it could be so easy.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[deans-baby-momma]

The Hunter and The Sheriff - Chapter 3

Dean didn't want to do it, he tried to stave it off as long as he could but when Donna touched his balls while his cock was being squeezed by her tight throat his cum shot out of him like a bullet.

Donna hummed as he throbbed and pumped her gullet full, swallowing every single drop and licking the remnants from his member as she slowly backed off.

“Mmmm delicious,” she purred as she sat back on her feet and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

He smiled down at her in adoration. Dean felt as if he had died and went to Heaven, again. Only Heaven was a busty, full-figured woman with curly blonde hair.

Dean helps Donna up off the floor and they flop onto the bed once again, giggling and laughing at the wet spot on the sheets.

They lay in bed the rest of the night and regaled each other with stories, from Donna growing up in Hastings to Dean telling her about almost being taken out by a sharp piece of metal.

The sun was just beginning to rise as the two lovers dozed off to sleep, wrapped in one another's arms.

The sun was blinding and he could hear birds chirping outside as Dean’s mind woke up. He smiled as he remembered where he was and why he was so fucking tired. After driving eight hours to get to Donna, they spent the rest of the night fucking like animals…. just like Donna had said.

Dean never knew Sheriff Donna Hanscum was such a vivacious and spirited lover. She was so reserved and shy before but god damn if Dean would complain. He knew he has met his match and he was fucking loving every minute of it.

Donna’s head was on his chest and her arm was draped across his stomach, her fingers tickling along his side. He opened his eyes and looked down at the mess of blonde curls that were littering across his body.

“I wanna take you out,” he rasps. “On a date.”

Donna’s head whips up and she looks at him stunned.

“Really? Like, for reals?”

“For reals,” he chuckles. “I wanna treat you right. Doug 1 and 2 didn’t do it and I don’t think any man has ever treated you like you should be treated.”

“And how’s that?” Donna asks, bringing her hand up to his chest and putting her chin on it to look up at him.

“Like a fucking goddess, Don! You are the epitome of someone who should be cherished and treasured.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re fucking with me?” she asks and then laughs. “That statement could go either way. Either you’re joking with me or it’s because you have been literally fucking me?”

“You’re adorable,” he says with a smile and kisses her forehead. “I like you Donna. Hell, I think I have always been attracted to you but, in this life, you know sometimes you just have to put things to the side and deal with them later.”

“Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend?”

Dean rolls his eyes but there’s a smirk on his face. “Well I am a boy and I think I’m your friend. So I kinda already am aren’t I?”

“Oh honey. There ain’t nothing boy about you. You are all man. 110% man. You’re my manfriend.”

“So does that make you my womanfriend?”

“Yep,” Donna says and then pushes herself up. Dean misses the heat of her body next to his but he definitely enjoys the view of Donna’s ample bosom bouncing with her movements. He savors the sight as she stands and turns toward him, still in her birthday suit.

His eyes rake over her body, from her robust but shapely breasts over her plump tummy and down to the motherland. Her mound is neatly trimmed with just a faint tuft of blonde curls hiding the most delicious pussy he’s ever had. Her thighs touch but to Dean, that just makes her even more sexy.

“Oompha,” Donna says and grabs his attention back to her face. “You keep looking like you're going to devour me and we’ll never get out of this room.”

“That a bad thing?”

“It is when I got the evening shift and I need to get ready,” Donna tells him.

“Oh, yea. I guess so,” Dean says as he sits up in the bed, his back against the headboard. “Well, while you are out keeping the wonderful townspeople safe, I need to run some errands myself. Where’s the nearest men’s store?”

“Wal-Mart is-” Donna begins but stops and pinches her lips together as Dean throws the sheet off his body and stands on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes are automatically drawn to his cock, swinging between his bowed legs. “-I just can’t get over how that fit inside me. It’s so thick and long and..” she trails off into a whimper but then shakes her head and brings her eyes back to Dean’s face. “Wal-Mart is 15 miles east of here.”

Dean smiles, the first genuine smile he can remember in a long time. Donna is just so pure and good. She is completely adorable.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up so you can get to work and I can go buy something to wear on our date.”

They once again share a shower but keep it chaste, only touching to wash each other’s backs.

Donna is dressed in her uniform and Dean is in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, as he sees her off, opening the door and kissing her deeply before slapping her ass and shooing her out the door.

As Dean watches Donna leave in her patrol car, he smiles once again genuine and actually happy.

‘I could get used to this,’ he thinks to himself.

His phone rings and he sees that it’s Sam calling.

“Hey Sam, everything alright?”

He listens as Sam says he was just calling to make sure Dean was fine since he hadn’t come back to the Bunker.

“Yea, yea. I’m good. Just needed a breather. Ya know, that was a close call on that last hunt. Just needed to get my head back on straight. I’ll be home in a few days.”

Dean stares at the objects in front of him. He shouldn’t have done it but he was bored and boredom leads to mischief.

It just so happens that his mischief was the mistake of going through Donna’s closet. When he found the box shoved in the very back of the room, he should’ve left it there. He shouldn’t have pulled it out and carried it to the bed.

He damn sure shouldn’t have opened it. Because what he found inside not only troubled him but had him questioning a lot also.

He knew the items inside were Donna’s because he saw her name and address clearly on the mailing label. What he didn’t understand was why she would have these in her possession. What was her plan? Had she used these before?

Then he briefly recalls her words while he was ramming into her just a few hours prior. Oh. Oh. Oh! She wasn’t just talking dirty to be talking dirty. She really does have toys….and a few torture devices by the looks of it.

Dean picks up a pair of handcuffs that - sure, a Sheriff needs handcuffs - but not ones with red fur around the bracelets. He jiggles them in his hand, letting them hang from his fingertip and is impressed with the weight of the shackles.

They’re not flimsy like others he has seen and has used with other lovers. Those broke way too easily, but these….these were meant to hold their victims captive and bound.

His dick twitched at the idea of Donna fettering him up and having her way with him. The imagery in his mind had his dick standing at attention in no time. He knew she was going to be gone for a few more hours so he decided to use a couple of the more vanilla items and relieve himself.

Dean quickly found out just how difficult it was to utilize an anal plug on himself. Everytime he began he would tense up and have to start over. Once the little bulb was seated in his ass, he took the tight cock ring and worked it over his throbbing member until it was in place at the root.

He reached over and brought the bottle of lube he’d been using on the plug and squirted a generous amount in his hand before wrapping his fingers around himself. The liquid was cool but assisted in his movements.

As he jacked off, he thought back to just this morning, of Donna standing at the side of the bed, no longer ashamed and bashful in his presence. No she was comfortable in her body and confident and that was the biggest turn on if there ever was one.

Dean could feel his balls begin to draw up as he kept stroking and squeezing and turning his hand just so right at the bottom of the head of his dick. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and he’d still have time to clean up before Donna came home from her shift.

Donna. The one woman that was getting under his skin. She was seeing the part of Dean that he kept hidden from the world. The Sheriff was unknowingly weaseling her way right into his heart, in ways Dean never could have expected.

As he thinks of the busty blonde Sheriff and the smoking hot body she hides under her uniform, he quickly finds his release, his seed shooting out and landing on his groin and lower abdomen.

He gets his breathing back to normal and works the cockring off his flaccid member before doing the same with the plug.

While cleaning himself and disinfecting the toys with the sanitary spray that he found in the bag, he smiles as he thinks of all the crazy ways he and Donna could use the bag of items.

Noticing the time, he is surprised that in less than an hour Donna would be off the clock; headed to him, and their date….that he still needed to get ready for.

For the second time that day, Dean showers, and steps out onto the rug to dry off and get dressed.

He saunters into Donna’s room with the towel wrapped around his waist, feeling right at home. He didn't have to hide his insecurities behind a mask of masculinity and bravado here. It was refreshing.

He dresses and walks back into the bathroom to toss the towel in the hamper and style his hair. When he hears the front door open, he smiles at himself in the mirror. My love is home runs through his mind and that stops him in his tracks.

When did that happen? When did a good time between two friends lead to love? Sure, they were screwing but he'd fucked plenty of women though the years and he'd never thought of them as love.

Lovers, maybe. Lisa, Cassie, Anna. They were lovers but he never thought of them as his love. Donna was different, though.

Donna knew his life; she understood it. She helped even. They have a mutual bond- a connection. Could that be it?

He felt this way because they understood one another on a deeper level than he'd ever experienced, ‘that had to be it right?’

“Honey, I'm home!” Donna says as she enters the bedroom and strolls into the bathroom where Dean is having his internal conflict. “Heya handsome. You sure look nice. Give me half an hour and I'll be ready for our date.”

Donna strips out of her uniform and underclothes before stepping into the shower. What she didn't notice was Dean still staring at himself in the mirror and not at her, like he'd done since they began their arrangement.

Dean finally snaps out of it and speaks, “I'll be in the kitchen waiting.”

“Sure thing,” Donna responds.

Dean paces in the kitchen as he contemplates when and how his feelings for Donna had changed.

When did he go from being a friend, a fuck buddy to this? To thinking of Donna as his… anything.

Sure they had confirmed their status just this morning but he wasn't expecting these feelings so quickly.

‘Oh fuck! I have feelings. I'm a goddamn chick flick!’

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70

@foxyjwls007 @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy @perpetualabsurdity @kickingitwithkirk @deans-spinster-witch @krazykelly @nancymcl

[soph-the-podcast-nerd]

Warning more Juno Steel Spoilers

I’m doing another reaction for part 2 of the case closed

pt 1

Loving junos personification of Hyperion City

aw hes so happy to be a private eye again lol

PUCK FALCO? I was not expecting to see them in this episode honestly

The Sheriff Hates Paperwork

“yeah shes the best we all know that” SO FAIR

ah…. I’m getting Thea soul vibes

Yeah we don’t have a car cuz it went back to its home planet nbd 🤷‍♀️

You guys. I love rita so much. Like I can’t explain how much I love her. Rita is absolutely the best. Idk what I’m going to do without her :(

“Oh. Its you.” “Funny, thats exactly what I say when I look in the mirror each morning.” I love how the penumbra podcast can just be so casually funny with random lines like this

Pilot pereyra was. The one with the high heels I think? I don’t remember… was that the one that was with them at the old station when they were trying to find like. The underground city. Cuz that was a while back and I cannot remember (it sounds like I need to relisten to juno steel lol)

Wait was I right about the thea soul

cuz if juno had one in his office its possible they’re still out there

Ah. fuck.

Loving this music so much aaaaa

all the music is so great on tpp i love it

AAAAAAAAAA MICK UR BACK YAYYYYYYYY

also juno did you have some coffee. Why are u so hyper

i love mick so much hes so silly aaaaa

Juno my boy loves being a pain in the ass

also juno learn how to make tea its not that damn hard like mick doesn’t know much but he knows how to make tea

this is so funny everyone make fun of juno time because he doesn’t know how to use a computer, he doesn’t know how to make tea, but somehow hes an amazing private eye???

Well theres only one person we haven’t seen. Thats right Sasha wi

just kidding peter nureyev the man in glass

you ever think about. Trees?

bro is trying to…. stop… autumn???

hes so dumb I love him. Keep doing what you’re doing dude never change

also when was the last time we heard juno genuinely laugh. Have we ever heard him laugh like this? Hes just. So happy. I’m so glad.

i bet you that nureyev comes through the window in these last 13 minutes. Or hes already sitting inside

Aaa fuck you juno now I’m crying

why are doing this to me. I’m. Aughhhh. Crying.

especially with this music

FUCK. I’m sad.

We dont get a reunion? Aw

i kinda get it tho

Ah fuck I dont have any money

you guys I’m going to miss this show so damn much oh. Oh my god. Also I don’t have any money and the money I do have is in cash cuz I’m a minor without a job. But I’m so excited to hear about future projects

[warnersister]

Chapter 4 - A glass of Bourbon from Denison

The Highwayman Series | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

You’d agreed to work that evening with Penny but you’d spent most of the day just sat, tending to lightning. You didn’t want to speak to anyone, lost in your thoughts. “Hey, sugar” that infamous drawl came from behind you, you shut your eyes and breathed slowly, but refused to reply. Your mouth wouldn’t allow. “I know y’ told me to go. I know ‘m sorry-” “did my daddy tell ya he’d make me kick the bucket?” You asked and silence ensued “darlin,” “answer the question, hangman” he smiles and you can almost hear it “yes” “is tha’ why y’ broke your promise? That why y’ never came back?” You asked and he shoved his hands into his pockets and fidgeted his feet “yes.” You nod, still not looking at him. “Daddy had a stroke. Damn nearly killed ‘im finding us” you tell him “m sorry” he replies and you just shake your head, finally turning “what was I to you, Jake?” He surveys your face, eyes lingering on his hat on your head. “Everything.” You just look at him “fuck you were the world, my life, my light. God left a piece of me here” he shakes his head. You turn back to the horse, trying to prevent him from seeing you cry. “Goodbye, Jake.” You say, sobbing slightly and you hear nothing, only feeling arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his embrace as you cry and hit his chest as he let you. Understanding that he’d just left you without an explanation. “You’re still everything. I still love you.” He says and you just look up at him, chin resting on his chest; eyes red and sore, lips swollen. You grit your jaw. “Sheriff’s daughter” he smiles and shakes his head “got me damned wrapped around your finger, girl.” You laugh and tip your hat back so he could kiss your forehead.

You push him back. “Get out o' here.” You laugh slightly, wiping away your tears. “Go on, get. My daddy’s about to do his rounds” you say and he behinds to walk away, doing as told “Jakey” you call after him and he stops dead, eyes closed. He hadn’t heard that name in years. Not from your lips. It was blissful. “Yeah, pretty?” He turns “I’m working at the Hard Deck tonight.” You say; motioning to the saloon across the way, and he smirks “guess me and the boys'll be need a drink then.”

The bar was bustling, as Penny had promised. Men drinking to celebrate the end of a working week, a few already having a substantial more drink than they should’ve. You felt an elbow in your side, and you look to Penny who’s smirking and nodding her head towards the door “your hangman’s here” she says and the two of you connect eyes at you attempt to suppress your smile. The four of them headed across the saloon to the bar, rooster tipping hit hat at you. “What can I get y’all?” You ask “I’ll have a tall glass of you, sweetheart” rooster replied with a joking laugh but the look being shot into the side of his face suggested otherwise “shut up, Brad” you reply with a small giggle “I’ll serve the distinguished ones.” You reply, turning to Bob and Coyote “what can I get y'fine gentlemen?” “I’ll have a whiskey. Any ya recommend” Coyote replied with a smile you nodded then turned to Bob who motioned for you to lean in. He leant to your ear “can I have a glass ‘o milk? Liquor don’t settle on my stomach” he whispered sheepishly “y’ want me to hide it as a drink, darlin’?” You ask and he perks up and nods “comin’ right up, gents” you say and turn away hearing two scoffs “damn lil lady, what bad customer service!” Jake jokingly complains “well when y’all learn to be polite I’ll serve ya, let me know when that is.” You reply, pouring Jake’s favourite whiskey into two glasses, another with rum as you’d remembered Rooster’s preference. Then you grab the shaker and hide the milk to poor it in, shaking it then poring it into a port glass, sliding it across the bar to Bob with a wink. “What’s he got?” Coyote asked “well if you were cultured in your drink you’d know. Called ‘con leche’.” You tell him matter-of-factly and you see Bob smile.

You pass the whiskey to Coyote, then the other two to Rooster and Hangman. “We ain’t even order yet.” Bradley complained and you raised a brow “what? Captain Smith rum ‘nd glass of bourbon from Denison. Isn’t that right?” Brad raised his brows “good memory, girl” he said, knocking back his drink. “Can I send a drink to someone?” Jake asked and your mouth ran dry “sure” “whiskey watered down with lemonade” he said and you grinned, he remembered too. “And who would you like that sending too?” You ask, leaning over the bar “oh this mighty fine bar maid. Real stunner, she is.” He says “sorry sir, Penny don’t drink lemonade.” You reply and he shakes his head, drinking his whiskey and chuckling.

A few hours later and a couple of drinks being drank, the final call was made and a few patrons began to pay their tabs and leave. “What do I owe ya?” Brad asked, dropping his sun glasses and batting his eyelashes at you to which you laugh “nothin’ any of ya.” You say “ya sure?” He asked and you nodded “just want the lot of ya to stay out of trouble and out o' my daddy’s sight.” You reply, telling them to get gone back upstairs to Maverick's through the back door rather than the front. “I’ll hold back, walk ya home.” Jake said as the other three bid their good nights. You shake your head “it’s fine, it’s only over the road” you reply, shrugging on your jacket. “I ain’t movin’.” He replies and you just shake your head, hugging Penny goodbye and allowing him to walk you out.

“Y' gonna go ‘nd get yourself killed, boy” you tell him and he shrugs “rather die knowing I had ya than live knowing I don’t get ya” he replied, going no further than the entryway of your house. You sigh and look at him “god I missed ya” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him, he lifted an arm over your head to rest on the top of the entrance, the other hand coming to rest on your waist. “Y' ain’t even real.” He whispered. “What would’ve happened?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. “To what, darlin?” He asks, southern drawl growing stronger as he feels your breath against his own. “If he’d never have ran y’out?” He thinks for a moment. “Well we’d probably have a house, Id’ve given up this highway gig.” He says, counting something in his mind “three or four young‘uns by now. Married, y’know baby. The works.” He says and swallows, imagining what could’ve been.

You chew your lip as he speaks “y’like the sound of that? God couldn't get that image out of my head. Pregnant with my children” he saw your eyes darken and he wraps the arm further around your waist, pulling you into him. “Could still happen darlin. We’re still young.” He whispers “'ndmy daddy still hates ya” you reply and he grunts “he ain’t gonna be round much longer” he says leaning to kiss you but you stop him, reclining back “my daddy may be an ass, but he’s still my daddy. Don’t you bad talk him.” You say and he sighs “I know girly, m’sorry. Gonna have to try harder to get his blessing, ain’t I?” He smirks and you giggle, this time allowing him to dip his head and catch your lips with his.

It was as if he’d never been away, as if he’d never left. Your lips remembered his own; like enzyme and substrate: locking perfectly together, only made for each other and no one’s else. He still had that small scar on his bottom lip, bumpy and unhealed from where he’d still bite it. “Ya let another man touch ya sugar?” He asks, growling against your lips and resting his forehead on your own. “No sir. Just you.” You say and he feels a deep clench in his stomach “you had another lady?” You ask and he picks you up, pushing you against the wall “no sugar, can’t look at another girl without thinking about ya.” He says “got me fucking hypnotised. If this was Salem you’d be tried” he joked “we’re both dead, might as well go out with ya.” You say.

“Bet you’re still as sweet as I remember” he retorts and you scoff “please, we never got to do nothin’” you reply, remembering when your father entered before you’d gotten far enough “well I ain’t gonna wait another five years” he promises and you think for a moment, looking at the empty and darkened street, then into your house, which was quiet. He was asleep.

“This better be worth dying for, Seresin.” You say, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the house and up the stairs.

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

[crappymixtape]

something infinite • part one

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART ONE M A Y B E T H E W O R L D W O N ' T E N D

2.8K – part one of something infinite – steve steals a car and somehow you wind up in hawkins, indiana, a meet cute without the cute *18+ only  | ( 2.8k, angst, verbal abuse, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

J U N E 1 9 8 7 🎶 the rat, the walkmen 

“C’mon Harrington, don’t be a pussy, get in.”

“Shit, hurry up Tommy!”

“Shut up, I’m going!”

With two wires held tightly between his fingers, Tommy Hagan quickly brushed them together until the old Chevy Blazer rumbled to life, Lynyrd Skynard’s Call Me the Breeze screaming through the speakers.

Well now, they call me the breeze, I keep blowin' down the road! I ain't got me nobody, I don't carry me no load!

“Fuck yeah, get it in drive!”

Steve didn’t know how he ended up there in the passenger seat of an about-to-be-stolen car – sheriff’s car to be exact – and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Tommy struggled to shift it into gear. His hands gripped the dash in front of him as he watched a light come on inside the house, “Jesus, Tommy, fucking move!”

“I’m trying, god damn gear shift is stuck!”

It was the hundredth weekend in a row, Steve was certain, that his parents were out of town on business and the fight he’d had with his dad that night had been a real crowning achievement. The worst of all time and something in him snapped. All he wanted now was to feel something. Anything. And it was barreling toward him like a train off the rails.

“HEY, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLES! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY TRUCK!”

“Oh shit, we gotta go, we gotta go!”

“Fucking bail!”

The screen door on the front of Hopper’s house flung open so hard the whole frame shook as it slammed shut behind him.

“Get outta here, meet back at my place!” Kyle and Tommy jumped out of the car so fast Steve didn’t have any time to think.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” scrambling, Steve’s hand fumbled on the door handle as he shoved it open, scraping his leg against the runner board on his way down. Hair messed and wild in his eyes, he looked up to see his friends were already over the fence and sprinting toward the tree line behind Hopper’s place, “Wait!”

Not bothering to close the door behind him, Steve tried to pick up a sprint, but a large hand half-shoved, half-grabbed the back of his neck and within seconds he was face down in the lawn with a mouth full of grass and dirt, Hop’s weight pressing him into the ground.

“You little shits think you’re so clever. Well, s’the last time you fuck with Hopper, hm?”

It was dark, the summer night thick and warm when you arrived at your aunt’s place in Hawkins. Nothing like Indianapolis. The moon hung high in the inky black sky, stars blinking above you like holes poked through canvas, and the sound of crickets and frogs off over the fence was almost deafening. No ambulance sirens, no yelling, no loud music in the apartment above you. Your stomach sank. What was this place?

“The real armpit of America, hm?” the cab driver said tossing your bag and skateboard at your feet as if he could hear your apprehension, wiping sweat from his forehead. You gave him a look, almost pleading to let you come back to the city with him, but he was already climbing back into the car. Rolling down the passenger window he leaned over and tipped his ball cap at you with a laugh, “Enjoy!” And with a rumble he was off down the road you came, dust kicking up around the wheels as he went.

Fuck, you muttered squeezing your eyes shut, hoping maybe if you clicked your heels together you’d magically appear back in your room like Dorothy. The whole summer. That’s how long you’d be stuck in this place. Until your mom was back, and in that moment you wished you’d asked to stay with your grandmother. Anywhere was better than this.

“You’re here! Oh, you’re here!”

Your eyes flew open at the sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in years and you were suddenly wrapped up into a big hug. It was all cinnamon and fresh laundry and cut grass and so soft. So warm. Your aunt Joyce.

“Honey, you’re so tall! My gosh, I don’t think I’ve seen you since…can’t be since ‘77 can it? Here, Hop will get those, come on inside,” with a gentle hand on your back she guided you to the door, leaving your things where they were for whoever this Hop was. “I just made dinner,” Joyce gave you a big smile, her shoulders squeezing up toward her ears with excitement, and you wondered for a second if maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

She was so different from your mom, her sister, so much softer around the edges, fuzzy and sparkling and bright. The look she gave you made your heart ache a little, like she really loved you, and a small lump rose in your throat as you tried to smile back.

“Oh, Hop, grab those will you?”

As the screen door creaked open you came face to face with what could only described as the human version of a grizzly bear. Tall, frame like a fridge and gruff, but oddly soft under all the grit like your aunt. He grunted a reply and held the door for you both, muttering a Hey, kid, to you on the way by before going to grab your things.

Your aunt’s place was modest, but so homey and comforting somehow. The living room was smaller, with a little television in the corner, and it bled right into the dining room and kitchen. Open, just like your aunt.

Family photos hung along the walls, you recognized your cousins Will and Jonathan, but there was a girl now too. And Hop. And tons of other kids you didn’t recognize. All grinning and laughing and piled on each other or hanging out the bed of a pickup or floating lazy in a lake.

“Will and Jonathan are out with their friends, not sure when they’ll be back…” your aunt’s voice brought you back, “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I’m sorry, I’m just pretty tired and–”

“Oh, of course you are! That’s okay, sweetie. Your room’s the third door on the right, Hop’s got your things in there, and the bathroom is the first door on the left. I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and for the first time in a long time you felt your lips curve up into a small, genuine smile, murmuring your thanks.

Turning to walk down the hall you looked back to see Hop settle into the big, brown arm chair with a beer in hand as your aunt climbed up onto his lap. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, fitting perfectly there with him. Hop rumbled a contented sound as he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his own kiss to her forehead.

Happy. Loving. A proper display of affection. Nothing like home.

Closing the door to your room you didn’t bother unpacking and flicked the light off before falling onto the neatly made bed. Hawkins, Indiana. Crickets and frogs and wheat fields and dirt roads and hot and thick all summer long. Your eyes slipped shut and the lump came back to your throat as you rolled onto your side.

It’s only three months. It’s only three months.

The words looped in your head on repeat as you curled into yourself, exhaustion slowly wrapping around you until you fell away into sleep.

“Got some real shitty friends there, huh?”

Steve’s arms were folded tight over his chest as he glared at Hopper from across the big desk. Tommy and Kyle had made it over the fence and home, because of course they fucking did, and he was here getting an ear full of shit he already knew.

Hop took a long drag from his cigarette and tapped it on the ashtray. Leaning back in his chair he blew smoke up toward the ceiling, not bothering to look at the kid across from him, “Suppose you think you’re gonna get off easy, right? Mommy and daddy come in here and cut me some check, let little Stevie go home, lesson learned.”

“They don’t even know I’m here–”

“Shut up, my turn to talk,” Hop snapped, cutting Steve off as he spun in his chair to lean on the desk. He fixed the boy with a look that shut his mouth right quick. Sucking on his teeth the sheriff shook his head. “You’re all the same. Entitled little assholes,” he hummed in thought, “Same goes for your buddies, Hagan and Peterson, right? Yeah. Well. They ran faster than you, unfortunately.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh and jammed his tongue into his cheek, fighting the urge to snap back at the older man, knowing damn well he was already in for it as it was, “Jesus, can we just get this over with?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Got somewhere to be, Harrington?” Hopper sniped, taking another drag, this time blowing the smoke into Steve’s face. “You’re lucky, I don’t feel like looking at your face anymore,” putting out his cigarette, Hop stood from the desk and snatched up the pile of paperwork in front of him. “Community service oughta do it. Fifteen hours a week all summer at the library, weekends off.”

“Fifteen?? That’s crazy, how am I supposed to—“

“Keep runnin’ your mouth and I’ll make it thirty!” Hop rounded on Steve, leaning down to get in the boy’s face and meet his eye line.

Steve’s chest was heaving as he sucked in air, struggling to keep himself in check as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Hopper shot him a grin.

“Perfect. See you Monday, champ,” he clapped Steve on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward, Asshole, muttered under the younger boy’s breath.

Hop didn’t bother to wait as he walked out of his office and down the steps of the police station. Steve watched through the blinds with balled up fists as the sheriff climbed into his rig and rolled out onto the street.

“Do you need something, hon? Jim won’t be coming back today…” the receptionist called in after him and Steve turned to kick the leg of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“No, just— no,” Steve grumbled and followed the same path Hopper had out into the hot, sticky summer heat, chucks smacking against the pavement as he started the walk home.

His parents didn’t know he’d tried to steal a car, didn’t know he went out drinking, didn’t know how much he longed for their approval, their affection, and didn’t know he was saddled with three months of community service for the rest of the summer.

The last time he’d talked to his dad was the night he’d gone to Tommy’s, begging to do something – something reckless. It had hardly been a conversation, Steve and his father at each other’s throats, yelling until they were both red in the face and saying things that couldn’t be taken back.

“You couldn’t even get into a trade program, Steven! What in the hell am I supposed to do with you??”

"I tried, dad! Do you know how many applications I sent–”

“I don’t give a shit, we’re done. You’ll start at the firm in September.”

“Dad, I don’t want–”

“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore, son. If you’re gonna amount to anything in life it’s obvious I need to step in.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as his father’s words ran on a loop in his head.

If you’re going to amount to anything in life. If you’re going to amount to anything in life. If you’re going to amount to anything in life.

The corners of Steve’s eyes prickled with tears, but he threw his gaze up to the ceiling and hastily blinked them away. Finally it was out. What his dad really thought of him. And it hurt more than he wanted to admit. “I don’t need your help,” the boy snapped, turning back around to look his dad in the eyes. Heat rose in his chest, flames crackling and roaring to life, a fire he’d tried to contain all these years, but his father’s words were like gasoline and it was hot and angry now.

“Yeah? And who’s gonna hire a kid out of high school with shit for grades, huh? The only thing on your resume is a damn ice cream shop and video rentals and the real world doesn’t care about basketball or popularity contests, Steven.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Gary, just drop it–”

“Quiet, Carol! He needs to hear this. No one else seems to be able get it to sink in. You wanna be a real man, Steven? Take care of a family, huh? A wife? Get your shit together.”

“Take care of a family?? Are you kidding?” Steve was laughing, but there were tears streaming down his cheeks now as he slammed the chair he’d been gripping onto into the dining room table, “You’re never home, you don’t give a shit about me.”

“Watch your mouth! Ungrateful. I told you Carol. Doesn’t appreciate anything I do for him–”

“I can’t,” Steve threw his hands up as if to shield himself from the words his father was hurling at him, voice thick as he hissed through his tears. Snatching his keys from the hook next to his mom he knew he couldn’t be there anymore.

“Steve, your father doesn’t mean it–”

“I do mean it! Don’t you walk away from me, boy, we’re not done here! I’ve got a flight in the morning and–”

“Yeah? Well gee, dad, have a great trip!” Steve snapped, slamming the door behind him as he left. The tears came more freely then as the hot, sticky summer air hit him, thick and suffocating and too warm. He cranked his BMW to life, speakers screaming as he turned up the volume, and backed out of the drive before ripping down the street toward Tommy’s to steal Jim Hopper’s rig.

Paying no attention to where he was walking, Steve let muscle memory guide him down main street. A light sheen of sweat was clinging to his forehead and brows as the sun beat down on him and his anger faded with each step in the heat. Tommy and Kyle were going to give him so much shit for his community service stint, Steve could already hear them laughing, and he toed a rock into the road. A muttered dammit came forth, eyes still on the ground, but then someone was shouting at him.

“Hey! Watch out!”

Eyes wide, the boy standing in the middle of the sidewalk clearly wasn’t going to move, so you angled your board into the grass and jumped off, hands flying up to grab fistfuls of his shirt as your feet hit the concrete.

“Shit!” he yelped, his own hands grabbing onto to your arms. You stood like that for a moment as if to make sure you were both okay, but then the boy was letting go and pushing himself away from you, threading his fingers through his hair to try and regain his composure. “Watch where you’re going,” he sniped, tone packing more heat than he’d intended.

You scoffed. “Where I’m going?” crossing your arms over your chest you fixed him with a look, “I’m not the one with my eyes glued to the pavement.” Bending down to grab your board, you tucked it under your arm and glared. He was taller than you by at least a few inches, moles chasing along his jaw and cheeks, hazel colored hair messy across his forehead and eyes all warm honey and burnt caramel. He might have been pretty if not for the scowl on his face.

“Pedestrians get the right of way,” he sniped, throwing an arm out toward your skateboard.

“Okay,” huffing a laugh you shouldered past him, but he caught your hand.

“Hey! Where are you going? Shouldn’t you apologize?”

“I’m so sorry,” your voice was sugar and saccharine sweet, but it didn’t match the look on your face as you tossed your board to the ground, “Don’t get run over!”

“Oh nice, really nice!” he yelled after you, and when you glanced over your shoulder to give a wave you laughed at the sight of him. All worked up, hand on his hip, lips twisted into a frown and hair caught up in the heat.

“The nicest!” you called and with a few kicks off the pavement you were gone around the corner toward the gas station for a blue-raspberry Icee, leaving Steve there cursing on the sidewalk with an infuriating curiosity as to who had almost run him over.

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

[duckingwriting]

Summer Reading/Writing/Arting

Thanks to @eponymoussquared for the tag! 

I’ve had so much going on recently and I’m behind my tag games but I’m hoping to catch up.

Rules: Follow the directions in bold.

No pressure tagging: @rachaellawrites, @ghost-town-story,  @late-to-the-fandom, @jowritesfanfiction, @author-a-holmes, @raevenlywrites and anyone else who'd like to do this.

Describe one creative WIP project you’re planning to work on over the summer.

Oh blippity bloppity pretending I don’t curse like a sailor the summer is like half way done fuck. The WIP I’m working on the most during this summer is the western fantasy gay retelling of Robin Hood. It still needs a title. I’m going to pretend that I’m not going to put that off to the last second. It came about as a stray thought of one scene that made a less than sober me giggle. And has sense grown. It follows a Phil, the sheriff, and his outlaw lover, Robin, as they try to find out who killed their friend. There are griffins and hippogriffs, shootouts, murder, fist fights, and make up sex.

Recommend a book

A Heart of Blood and Ashes by Milla Vane. I came to this book for a fun fantasy story. It is part of a series(I have not read the second or third book) but it has excellent story telling and some very nice spicey scenes. I could not put this book down, I was reading it like I was a teenager trying to escape from the abusive relationship I had with my family again. Strokes that need for the Alpha-hole while he also gets to learn that maybe he can not be a dick head. Love the characters so much. Biggest reason I haven’t read the sequel is I’m not ready to risk any change in tones. Will there be? i don’t know for sure but it’s always that fear in the back of my mind.

Recommend a fic

Oh god...just one? I feel this is cruel and unusual punishment. After some consideration, and highly considering breaking the rules and just doing a screenshot of my recent history, I decided to go with Issues by g33kg1rl. It’s on AO3(I’m not sure if it’s on any of the other fanfiction sites, I haven’t looked). It is for a small fandom, Loonatics Unleashed(only 116 fics total in that fandom, and IDK how many of those are actually crossovers). Shipping Rev and Tech(OTP). I am not a fan of OCs in stories, But the OCs in this story are amazing. I’ve been a fan of the show for years and was not convinced they were not cannon characters until I consulted google because they are integrated so damn well.

Recommend music 

Okay, okay....trust me for a moment...Good Lookin’ by Dixon Dallas. My wife sent it to me and I was like “okay just a country song...I don’t understand what...wait...what did he say?” It’s gay. Very...very gay. And I love it. The phrase “Bouncing off my booty cheeks” will live rent free in my mind for eternity. 

[roughentumble]

wrote a stiles+his dad reunion scene. it's been five long years for these poor suckers

“Dad.”

His father stands in the doorway, pale and drawn. He looks thinner than the last time Stiles saw him. “Stiles?”

“Uh. Yeah, it’s me. I… thought maybe we could… talk.” he says lamely.

“Talk?” His dad parrots back, mystified.

“Yyyyup. You and me, father and son, talkey-talkin’.” God, he hasn’t been this awkward in five years.

“… It’s you. You’re the emissary Scott’s been talking about.”

He smiles awkwardly. “That’s me.”

“…I think you’d better come inside.”

The door closes behind them.

———

His dad bypasses the beginning of the conversation by going straight to the corner and pouring himself a finger of whiskey. Stiles winces.

“So it’s… been a while.” Stiles tries.

The sheriff sets down his glass with such force that Stiles is afraid it might’ve cracked. “Five years. Five years, I sit at home wondering where my son is, if he’s missing or abducted or—“

‘Dead’ hangs unspoken in the room. Stiles sits down heavily on the couch. He wishes he had his own glass of whiskey for this. “I’m sorry. I… I guess should’ve let you know. That I was alright.”

“You think?” He asks, venom heavy in his voice, and Stiles throws his hands in the air.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to give me a good damn reason you disappeared off the face of the earth!” He says, whirling around to stare Stiles down.

“Maybe I was scared you were happier!” Stiles shout back, the words tripping out of him before he can stop them. “I… I thought… maybe you wouldn’t want me back. That you’d be happier if you could pretend I never existed.”

“That’s what you think of me?” He advances forward, sits himself down right on the coffee table so he can look Stiles in the eye as he asks, hard and angry and bitter, “That’s really how little you think of me? You think I’d want you dead?”

Stiles feels heat rushing to his face, doesn’t know if it’s anger or shame. “You told me to go, dad! You told me to get out!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I needed time to process my son having murdered someone.” He says, and the whole room goes still.

There it is again. It always comes back to this.

“Murderer. Of course that’s what they told you.” Stiles runs his hand through his hair, blinks away tears. “Dad, it was self defense. He was coming at me, and I pushed him, and he fell. It was an accident. That’s it. Then I get back to my friends, and they throw me out of the pack for being a murderer, and I come home, and you tell me I’m not who you thought I was. That it’s better if I leave. So I left.”

The sheriff’s whole face crumbles, and he swipes a hand down his face, absorbing the information. He sets his whiskey glass down heavy on the side table. The room is so damn quiet as he absorbs it, searches Stiles’ face as if trying to discern the truth. Fitting the puzzle pieces of what he knows together just like any good detective would. Then, finally, finally, “…I’m sorry, son. I should’ve listened to you that night.”

It’s like a dam breaks inside Stiles. It’s all he ever wanted to hear from his dad. He launches himself forward, crying into his father’s shoulder, and his father holds him tight, rocking him back and forth. “Oh kid. Oh, Stiles. Five years. Fives years.” He says, voice thick with grief and his own shed tears as he tucks his face into the top of Stiles’ head. He presses a kiss there, right at the crown, and Stiles feels all of twelve years old again.

“I’m sorry, dad, I’m sorry. I should’ve come and found you, I should’ve told you where I was.”

“I should’ve made you feel welcome to tell me, son.”

Stiles sniffles weakly. “Dad. God. Dad, I have to tell you… that was an accident. But I’ve… I’ve killed people since then.”

The sheriff goes stiff around Stiles, and he thinks this is it, I fucked it all up, this is how I learn he hates me still. “Were… were they accidents too?” His dad asks carefully.

“Some of them of them were self defense. But… some of them… they were bad people, dad. And I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t make them stop. They would’ve killed so many.” He shakes in his father’s arms, silently begs him to understand.

He’s silent. So silent. “I never wanted that for you. But I… I was too harsh on you, boy. Sometimes, being a cop means using your gun. Only ever as a last resort, but—“

“Only ever. I try everything else first. I never want to. God, I never want to.”

“…I forgive you, son.” His dad says, voice cracking. “For all of it. God forgive me, but I understand. I don’t hate you, son. All I want’s for you to come home.”

Stiles chokes on a sob, cradled in his father’s arms. They stay like that for a long time, rocking and crying, holding each other tight. Wordlessly, they fall apart together.

———————

Eventually, the crying comes to an end. They keep hugging, as if both afraid the other will vanish if they let go too soon. But time passes, and needs must, and as Stiles wipes away his tears, he says “i know it’s a lot for one day, but… there’s actually some people I want you to meet, dad. They’re waiting outside… they were sort of… backup, in case this. In case it didn’t go well.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Any friend of my son’s a friend of mine.” He says, and Stiles’ shoulders sag with relief.

They’re waiting for him right there, on the front steps. When he opens the door with a smile on his face, Jaskier jumps up to hug him tight. “Oh, I’m so glad it went well, darling.” He says, and Geralt reaches past him to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder.

“Guys.” Stiles says, serious, a touch nervous, as he steps inside to allow them in. “This is my dad. Dad, this is…”

“Hullo! We’re your son’s lovers.” Jaskier says, and Stiles says his name sharply and smacks him on the shoulder. “Ow! What? It’s true.”

Stiles sighs. “Look, dad, I know it’s weird. I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. But it’s true, I’m with both of them, and they make me happy. Really, really happy. They… they’re… they’re my pack.” He says, begging silently once more for his dad to just. Understand.

He looks the two of them over with a critical eye, up and down, then over to Stiles, then back at them again. “Ah, hell, son. I really don’t get it. I don’t think I could get it if I tried. But if they’re the ones who’ve been with you, making you happy and keeping you safe all this time, then who the hell am I to say otherwise?” He holds out his hand to the two of them, and Introduces himself. “Sheriff Stilinski. And if you ever hurt my boy, I’ll be coming for you.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Geralt says, shaking his hand firmly.

“Jaskier the bard. Stiles is one third of my heart, and I’ll treat him as such.”

His dad shakes his head. “Geralt… Jaskier… Stiles… there isn’t one normal name in the bunch.”

“Where i’m from, Geralt is a commonplace name.” Geralt replies, and the sheriff snorts.

“Alright. I think everyone deserves a drink.” The sheriff says.

“And a movie marathon!” Stiles says enthusiastically. “I’ll even let you eat the buttery popcorn.”

His dad smiles. “Sounds perfect, kid.”

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book One of Four]

Story: 4 out of 5 Smut: 4 out of 5

Wow. Really, just wow.

Kage really went and fell for his mark, huh? Turned the vanilla, never gonna find love again woman into a woman who craved every dark tendency he showed her.

I loved the suspense and mystery of it all. And let’s not forget the humor. Gotta love Sloane and her worry for her best friend’s love life.

This book really kept me on the edge of my seat, wondering and waiting for the other shoe to drop. And boy did it drop. It kind of broke my heart a little too. I loved that Natalie got her answers and came to terms with her love for Kage. I really hope these two pop up in the other books. I need to know how Natalie takes to ruling by Kage’s side.

Now enjoy my rambling thoughts…

* That breakup 😂 How’s the dude gonna be pissed when he’s the one breaking up with her? Insecure much? 😂

* I want the hot pirate with big dick energy. Sounds hot lmao

* “Sorry, Princess. If you’re looking for a knight in shining armor, you’re looking in the wrong fucking place.” — well, now I’m interested.

* Kage doesn’t like to break beautiful things? Wtf was he sent to do to Natalie?!

* Scary Kage just saw Natalie in her wedding dress and said it doesn’t suit her 🤦🏻‍♀️ That she’s beautiful but it has nothing to do with the dress. My fucking heart can’t handle this man rn.

* “I need to kiss you.” // “No.” // “Then come sit on my lap and let me finger fuck you while I feed you dinner.” — HOLY SHIT 🥵😂

* Sheriff Douche wants a second chance and was manhandling Natalie? Oh hell no. Thank god for Kage.

* Holy shit. He was sent to kill her?!

* Natalie has some amazing self control. How did she not fuck him on that table?!?!

* Jesus… this man is intense.

* Holy hell this man can kiss lol. How is she not taking him to bed asap?!

* “I’ll have to make you fall in love with me before I tell you all my darkest secrets.” // “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” // “So you won’t leave me… even though you’ll want to.” — fuckkkkk.

* Second in command to the Russian mafia. Surprisingly, I’m not turned off lmao. He said he was not a good man 🤷🏻‍♀️

* Her orgasmic bliss would be ruined by gunfire. What a bunch of cock blocks.

* After everything she had him take her to bed. So much for going on two dates before giving it up 😂

* Jesus. He fucked the shit out of her. And she still doesn’t know he was sent to kill her. The angst is gonna be angsting. And if her missing fiancé pops up, I’m gonna be pissed.

* And now Kage has found the sex toy drawer. I can’t 😂

* I love that Natalie is going through a rebirth and it’s dark… 😏

* Holy shit… so the fiancé was killed? At least that’s how Kage made it seem. I hope so.

* “My life doesn’t belong to me, do you understand? I made a vow. I took an oath and sealed it with blood. The Bratva is my family. The Brotherhood is my life. And there’s no way out of it. Blood in, no out. Not ever. Not even for love.” — and now my heart is broken.

* Oh shit. His boss is in charge of who he married and it’ll never be Natalie because he was supposed to kill her 😬 This whole relationship is a clusterfuck.

* Yikes. Someone’s stalking Natalie and she thinks it’s her ex… but girl! You’re dating a Russian mobster. It’s definitely one of his enemies.

* I FUCKING CALLED IT! And now Kage’s boss knows Kage disobeyed him, and he put a hit out on both Natalie and Kage, and FUCKKKKK!

* Oh goddammit. The dead fiancé isn’t as dead as we all thought and his name isn’t even David! Wtf.

* Holy fuck. She went after the missing fiancé..? Kage is gonna go ballistic because she left him and isn’t answering his calls or texts.

* They made up. Oh thank god.

* Kage is the boss man now. Hot damn.

* She wants his babies and he wants her to marry him. Oh my god!!!!

* Lmfao. Of course Sloane would be kidnapped. She’s gonna fall for her kidnapper, isn’t she? 😂

[chobit92]

The Quarry: Part Two

So...I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I had a beginning and an ending but that’s about it. Ah well here goes...

Warning: Miscarriage.

(Mara wakes up. She blinks several times and swallows hard. Her throat is dry and her head is pounding. She also feels dizzy and sick. She realises she is lying on a bed and frowns. Oh they went to some motel didn’t they? She sits up and feels faint. No. They didn’t go to a motel. Laura didn’t want to. She turns and struggles to her feet and realises that she’s in a jail cell. She frowns.).

Mara: What?

(She’s been arrested? She wonders what she did. She suddenly stumbles over to the toilet and throws up. She then feels a sharp pain in her abdomen. She throws up again then pulls herself to her feet. She splashes some water on her face then sits on the loo. She takes a piss and notices blood in her knickers. She lets out a small gasp. She wipes herself and stands up. She looks in the toilet and sees blood in the pan too. Her back hurts and she feels a pain in her abdomen again. It’s worse this time and she doubles over before sinking to the floor.).

Mara: Hello? I need a doctor! Damnit!

(She suddenly hears footsteps and she looks up and sees the Sheriff from last night.).

Mara: What’s going on? What did I do?

(He doesn’t reply.).

Mara: I need to see a doctor.

Travis: No can do.

Mara: What? I need a doctor.

(He opens her cell and steps inside.).

Travis: Let’s go.

(She struggles to her feet and he handcuffs her.).

Mara: What’s going on? What have I done?

(He leads her out of the cell and down the hall. He then leads her to an office and sits her down before handcuffing her to the chair. He then sits down opposite her.).

Mara: Please I need to see a doctor.

Travis: You’re fine.

Mara: I’m really not. I need a doctor now!

(He ignores her.).

Travis: It’s Mara isn’t it?

Mara: Why have you arrested me? What have I done? Is this about my stupid childish flirting? Coz that was just me being an idiot.

Travis: Is your name Mara?

Mara: Yes.

Travis: Last name?

(She suddenly feels another sharp pain in her abdomen and she looks down letting out a small cry of pain. She tries to think what she did to get arrested but she can’t remember doing anything. They crashed the car she remembers that. There was that weird woman in the woods. Then the Sheriff came and helped them. He told them to go to the motel. Mara wanted to go to the motel but they didn’t. Laura wanted to go to camp. She remembers something about someone being in the bunker. It’s all hazy and not very clear. Like she was drunk or something.).

Travis: Ma’am. You need to answer my questions. Starting with your full name. Now.

(She suddenly remembers Laura screaming. The cop showing up and...He drugged her. That’s what this is. Why she feels so shitty. She was drugged. Oh my God he drugged her. The Sheriff drugged her. She closes her eyes and opens them again as if somehow by doing that she can make all this go away. Tears sting her eyes and she looks up at him.).

Mara: You sick dickhead.

Travis: Excuse me?

Mara: I know what you did.

Travis: Ma’am trust me you don’t know a damn thing.

Mara: Ah no. You were just hoping that by drugging me I wouldn’t. But guess what? I do. I know what you’ve done.

(She lets out a sob then scolds herself for letting this happen. How could she let herself get drugged? How could she let this happen? She suddenly feels angry.).

Mara: Bastard!

Travis: I suggest you answer my questions.

Mara: You must be really worried. Scared your gonna get in trouble with your cop mates? I’m not surprised. I don’t think I’d want to learn that my boss was a rapist either.

(Whatever the cop was expecting it clearly wasn’t this. He blinks at her in surprise.).

Travis: Ma’am-

Mara: You bastard! You’re meant to be the fucking Sheriff! To protect and serve that’s what you’re meant to do. You fucking drugged me.

(She stares at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.).

Mara: You raped me.

(The cop now shakes his head.).

Travis: You are way off the mark.

Mara: Am I? Why else would you follow a young girl in the middle of the night and drug her? So what, because I was flirting with you a little you thought that gave you the right to just...

(She looks at the floor and lets out a wince through clenched teeth. The pain is getting worse.).

Travis: Ma’am you couldn’t be further from the truth. You have no idea what you’ve gotten mixed up in here. Now answer my questions.

Mara: I need a doctor.

Travis: You’ll be fine.

(She suddenly screams at him.).

Mara: No I’m not you fucking bastard! I’m losing my baby!

(The cop sits there staring at her. Then he gets up and walks around the desk. He suddenly sees blood on the chair, it’s in between her legs too. She is sobbing now.).

Travis: Shit.

Mara: How could you do this me? Pleased with yourself are you?

(She spits at him and he takes a step back. Then he grabs her arms undoing the cuffs before dragging her to her feet and cuffing her again.).

Mara: I need a doctor.

(He takes her back to her cell and removes the cuffs.).

Mara: What are you doing I need a doctor!

(He closes the cell door and locks it again.).

Mara: Hey! You can’t just leave me like this! Where’s my friends? What have you done with them? Did you rape Laura too? Did you? Did you kill them?

Travis: You have no idea what is going on here.

Mara: I know I’m losing my baby and it’s all your fault! This is all your fault! Bastard!

Laura: Mara! What’s going on?

Mara: Laura?

(Travis walks to the next cell.).

Laura: What’s going on?

(He unlocks her cell and cuffs her before leading her out.).

Laura: What’s going on? Where’s Max?

(They pass Mara’s cell, she is now curled up on the bed sobbing. Laura sees the blood.).

Laura: Oh my God what did you do to her? What did you do to her?!

Travis: Come on.

(He leads her to his office and cuffs her to the chair before sitting down.).

Travis: Name?

Laura: Laura Kearney. What’s going on? Where’s Max? What did you do to Mara?

Travis: This is an interrogation. I ask, you answer.

Laura: Okay. Sheriff...Hackett.

(The cop glances down at his badge then meets her eyes again.).

Travis: What were you doing at Hackett’s Quarry last night?

Laura: You already know this we’re counsellors. Where’s Max?

Travis: Bullshit! Counsellors aren’t due until today.

Laura: We figured we’d get there early. Scope the place out.

Travis: Why didn’t you go to the motel like I told you?

Laura: Because...We were like way closer to the camp and...We’re broke.

Travis: Your friend Mara offered to pay. She wanted to go there.

Laura: Yeah well...I just thought we’d head to camp as planned. What is going on here? What have you done with Max? Is he dead?

(He doesn’t answer.).

Laura: Tell me! What is going on here? Why are we here?

Travis: Lady you have no idea what type of grade A shit you’ve stepped in here. There’s shit then there’s bigger shit.

Laura: Stop trying to intimidate me and just tell me what is going on. Please.

(He doesn’t answer.).

Laura: I feel like I’m going crazy! What happened last night? Why are we here?

Travis: Does Mara have a last name?

Laura: You’ve got our licences haven’t you? Can’t you read?

Travis: Why is Mara here?

Laura: I’ve already told you we’re counsellors for the summer camp!

Travis: Is she pregnant?

Laura: What? Pregnant? Oh...

(Laura looks down and lets out a sob.).

Laura: That’s what she wanted to tell me. She almost didn’t come on this trip. She said she couldn’t. That something had happened. I convinced her to come. Said it would be good for her. I shouldn’t have. Stupid.

(He sighs and gets up before taking her back to her cell. They walk past Mara again.).

Laura: Mara! Mara are you okay? Mara!

Travis: Come on.

(He puts her back in the cell then removes the handcuffs before closing the door and locking it. He then walks off.).

Laura: Mara! Mara!

(Travis walks up to Mara’s cell and stops. She is lying on the bed sobbing quietly. He stands there staring at her before walking off. Mara lies there cursing that cop and cursing Laura for talking her into coming on this damn trip! She shouldn’t have come. She should have stayed at home. But then this might have happened anyway. She should have known better. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. This is all her stupid fault. How could she let herself get drugged and kidnapped?).

 (Travis unlocks the door to the storage room and goes inside. He walks over to the bags he took from their car. He opens a handbag and takes out a purse. Mara Benton. He examines the revolver that she had with her and frowns. Not the usual firearm that a young woman would carry. He then takes out a can of pepper spray. He then opens the black holdall and rummages around inside. He finds a holster which he guesses is for the revolver. So this must be Mara’s bag. He then frowns and takes out a knife. What isn’t this girl carrying? He takes the knife out of its sheath and frowns at it. It has a long blade that starts thick but gets narrower before ending in a very sharp point. It looks like it’s made of silver. He frowns and looks closer and sees the name Pete Benton inscribed on the blade. He puts the knife down before rummaging in the other bags. It looks like Laura was telling the truth about her name. The boy is Max Brinly. His radio suddenly crackles.).

Bobby: T you there?

Travis: What is it Bobby?

Bobby: Ma wants to know if you’re here for dinner tonight.

Travis: I’ll be there. Just a few things to sort out first. ‘Kay?

Bobby: Okay. I’ll tell her you’re coming.

(He sighs and turns to the coffee machine. He makes himself a coffee before leaving the room locking the door again behind him. He then returns to the office and sits down pinching the bridge of his nose.).