#beau Arlen fanfiction

[apocalyqsc]

RANCH IN THE SOUTH

cw; retired!beau a. (he’s already a dilf 😝) x young!reader—domestic fluff, suggestive, kissing, blurb

authors note; deep breaths NRNRNDBBDFB. domesticated fluff w retired!beau is all i needed. based off this post. uhm @soldiersgirl tributed to the idea n i fed off it. thank u. also this may sound a li’l arrogant but i think this would make a banger ass series

BEAU had finally put the badge and gun down—and gosh, you were so giddy about it. you’d been pestering him about retiring anyways, to live on a ranch and raise chickens, and sell eggs. to own cows to have milk. you had a whole layout about the hole thing.

if anything; it brought out a side of you that beau had never gotten a chance to see until he retired. he loved whenever you had kicked your legs back in forth on his trailer bed when he told you that buying the ranch was official. it was a look he’s never be able to erase from his head, no matter how much he desired to.

the ranch wasn’t perfect or anything, but all it needed was a little tender, love and care. as well as elbow grease. though the place was a tad run down, but the light in your eyes never faded as they cleaned the little house that came with the barn. you’d picked up a shift at a grocery store to help with the cause to fix the barn up, and beau used his retirement check to contribute. of course their were arguements here and their, but it never stopped either of you from curling up together at night, whispering soft apologies.

couples argued during stressful times. it just took a little bit of effort to push past it. and the two of you did. every single time you did.

you woke up to the smell of bacon. it was almost cartoonish how fast you got up to go get some. though you felt absolutely sluggish from how hard you’d been working for the past month, it was the weekend. their was no reason to push yourself so hard. you were relaxing.

the floorboards creaked under your weight. beau’s southern draw rang in your ears as beau spoke to you, “mornin’, sweetheart. i’was gonna let you rest ‘til i finished breakfast.” you stopped behind him as he flipped the sizzling bacon, your arms wrapping around his torso as you peered over his shoulder to see the bacon. you yawned softly as the bacon curled up on the grittle

“aren’t you a gentleman.” “i think so myself.” he said arrogantly as he picked the bacon of the grittle one by one. it was a small testimony to beau’s deep love and how his yearning grew everyday. despite all the sleepless nights of you two killing bugs (beau was the one doing it all) and in despite all the arguments.

if beau could, he would second handly kill all the bugs on earth for you. he’s buy to fourthly ranches. and you wouldn’t have to work at some sappy grocery store were the only break is the weekend and when you got off. beau turned the gritted off, placing two hands on your hips as he leaned down to kiss you. his breath twinged with this mornings toothpaste, and a spike of last nights beer.

“i could just eat you up.” he whispered into your ear, nipping at your ear softly. it earned a sharp, surprised noise from you. and that was a win in his book.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Nineteen of Nineteen

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 4,008 Tags/Warnings: None. Just lots and lots and lots of fluff. A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: Y’all are gonna want to kill me, but I promise you, this is not the end! In fact, I’m wrapping this part of the series and continuing it under a new series name! I haven’t decided what to call it, so I’m putting out a poll! Check it out and tell me what you think! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Nineteen: Almost There

The last thing Beau wanted to do that morning was get out of bed.

The room was dimly lit, early morning light just barely creeping through the curtains. Outside, the world was waking up, but inside this bedroom, everything was still, warm, and perfect.

Y/N was curled against his side, her bare skin pressed against his, her fingers tracing lazy, featherlight circles over his chest. He had one arm wrapped around her, holding her close, while his other hand rested low on her back, fingers splayed, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

Neither of them had spoken yet.

They didn’t need to.

They were comfortable, wrapped up in each other, their bodies perfectly entangled in the best way.

Beau sighed, his lips pressing against Y/N’s hair as he murmured, “Darlin’… what if we just don’t go to work today?”

Y/N smirked against his skin. “Tempting, Sheriff.”

Beau huffed, running his fingers along her spine. “I mean, technically, you own your own alarm clock. You could set it to ‘do not disturb.’”

Y/N laughed softly, tilting her head up to press a slow, teasing kiss to his jaw. “And what about you? I think the entire department might come hunt you down if you don’t show up.”

Beau groaned dramatically. “Jenny can run things for a day.”

Y/N snorted. “She would kill you.”

Beau smirked, rolling them slightly so that Y/N was beneath him, her body stretching beneath the sheets. “You sure I can’t convince you?”

Y/N hummed, her hands trailing up his arms. “You make a very good argument…”

Beau leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. “Damn right, I do.”

Y/N sighed into the kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, her entire body softening against him.

And for a very long moment, neither of them moved.

Beau kissed her slow, deep, thoroughly, like he had all the time in the world.

Y/N let out a quiet moan against his lips, her legs wrapping around his waist. “We really should be getting up.”

Beau smirked, pressing another lingering kiss to her neck. “Mm. In a minute.”

Y/N giggled, playfully pushing at his chest. “A minute is how we end up being late, Sheriff.”

Beau sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, keeping her securely against his chest.

Y/N smirked, propping herself up on his chest, her fingers tracing along the scruff on his jaw. “Do you ever get up on time?”

Beau grinned. “Not when I’ve got this to wake up to.”

Y/N bit her lip, thoroughly enjoying herself. “I swear, you get worse the closer we get to the wedding.”

Beau chuckled, running a hand down her back. “You love it.”

Y/N laughed. “That’s not the point.”

Beau sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “Fine, fine. We can be responsible.”

Y/N smirked, rolling off of him and sitting up. “Good. Because I do have work to do today.”

Beau watched her stretch, his eyes trailing slowly over her bare skin before he groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

Y/N laughed, reaching for her robe. “Oh, I know.”

With great reluctance, Beau finally dragged himself out of bed, stretching as he stood. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Y/N smirked, brushing past him toward the bathroom. “Look at you, so responsible.”

Beau swatted at her playfully, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N winked before disappearing into the shower.

Beau let out a long, suffering sigh.

And with great reluctance, he accepted the fact that they had to be actual adults today.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was definitely making up for lost time.

By the time Beau arrived at the sheriff’s department, coffee in hand, he was already half checked out.

His mind wasn’t on work.

His mind was on Y/N.

On the way she had felt in his arms that morning, on the way her lips had lingered just a little longer than necessary when she kissed him goodbye, on the way she had smirked at him as she left the house—knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

It was unfair, really.

And Beau was feeling it.

Which was exactly why Jenny noticed.

She watched him as he walked in, coffee halfway to his mouth, eyes somewhere else entirely.

Jenny smirked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “You wanna be here, Sheriff?”

Beau paused, blinking as he looked at her. “Huh?”

Jenny snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Beau sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jenny—”

Jenny smirked, pushing off the counter. “Don’t ‘Jenny’ me. I know exactly what’s goin’ on with you.”

Beau raised a brow. “Oh, do you now?”

Jenny grinned. “Oh, I do.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough to be annoying. “Your wedding is a week and a half away. Your hot fiancée is at work. And you, my dear Sheriff, are so distracted by her that I’m amazed you even made it here this morning.”

Beau groaned, already regretting walking into the building. “Jenny, I swear—”

Jenny held up a hand, smirking. “No, no, it’s fine. You’re hopeless, and I accept that.”

Beau rolled his eyes, finally taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m not hopeless.”

Jenny arched a brow. “Oh? So if I asked you what I just said, you could repeat it?”

Beau opened his mouth—then paused.

Jenny grinned wider.

Beau sighed. “Okay. Fine.”

Jenny cackled, shaking her head. “It’s so fun seeing you like this.”

Beau muttered something under his breath, taking another long sip of his coffee.

Jenny smirked, tilting her head. “So… is it excitement? Or are you nervous?”

Beau exhaled, finally looking at her. “Jenny. I’m marrying the love of my life. What the hell would I be nervous about?”

Jenny smiled, genuinely pleased by his answer. “Damn. You really are all in, huh?”

Beau shot her a look. “Jenny. I knew I was all in from the second I met her.”

Jenny sighed dramatically. “You are so disgustingly in love, and I love it.”

Beau huffed, shaking his head. “Are you gonna tease me all week?”

Jenny grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Beau groaned, fully resigned to his fate.

But honestly?

He didn’t mind one bit.

Because in just a few days, Y/N was gonna be his wife.

And nothing—not even Jenny’s relentless teasing—was gonna ruin that for him.

By the time Friday rolled around, the entire department had caught wedding fever.

Beau was officially clocking out for his long-awaited vacation—the last shift before his wedding and the much-deserved honeymoon that followed.

And of course, Jenny wasn’t about to let him leave quietly.

The moment he stepped into the department that morning, he knew something was up. There was an air of mischief, the deputies all trying way too hard to look busy, Jenny’s smirk wider than usual.

Beau exhaled, giving her a pointed look. “What’d you do?”

Jenny feigned innocence, placing a hand over her chest. “Me? Why do you assume I did anything?”

Beau sighed, rubbing his temples. “Because you always do.”

And then—

The cheering started.

Beau turned just in time to see Poppernak, Morales, Jenkins, and a few other deputies coming out of the conference room, carrying a giant cake with the words “Goodbye, Bachelor Beau!” written in bold, ridiculous lettering.

Beau groaned as Jenny cackled.

The rest of the department joined in, some clapping, others whistling, and Poppernak—always the extra one—started a chant.

“One more week!”

Beau shook his head, crossing his arms. “Y’all are actin’ like I’m being sentenced to something.”

Jenny smirked. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Sheriff—we’re happy for you.”

Poppernak nodded. “Yeah. It’s just—well, your single days are officially over.”

Beau arched a brow. “And that’s supposed to bother me?”

Jenkins grinned. “I mean… a little?”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Not even remotely.”

Jenny sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, yes. That’s right. Our Sheriff is disgustingly in love and thrilled to lose his bachelor status.”

Beau smirked, shrugging. “Damn right, I am.”

The room erupted into groans, laughter, and a few deputies playfully throwing napkins at him.

Jenny shook her head, her smirk still very much in place. “It’s honestly sickening how ready you are to be a married man.”

Beau grinned, grabbing a plate and serving himself a large piece of cake. “Y’all act like I haven’t been married before.”

Poppernak chuckled. “Yeah, but this time you actually like your fiancée.”

Beau let out a booming laugh. “That is a key difference.”

Jenny rolled her eyes, but her expression softened just a bit. “All right, seriously, Beau—we’re happy for you.”

Beau smirked. “I know.”

She shook her head, nudging him. “So, you ready for this? Wedding’s just a few days away.”

Beau exhaled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Jenny nodded, something genuinely warm in her expression. “Good. Because she’s crazy about you, Sheriff.”

Beau smiled, his chest swelling at the thought of Y/N. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice full of certainty. “I know.”

And as the celebration continued, as his deputies teased him about his last days as a single man, Beau knew—

There wasn’t a single part of him that was gonna miss his bachelor days.

Because the best part of his life was just about to begin.

Saturday morning came with the buzz of excitement and last-minute wedding preparations.

For Beau, though, the most important task of the day was heading to the airport to pick up his parents.

Hank and Evelyn Arlen were flying in from Texas, and as much as Beau loved them, he was mentally preparing himself for the whirlwind that was his mother.

Y/N had offered to go with him, but with so much still to finalize before the wedding, she was needed at home. So, with a quick kiss goodbye and a smiled warning from Y/N to not let his mother drive him insane, Beau had headed to the airport.

Now, standing near the arrivals gate, he adjusted his hat and sighed, scanning the incoming passengers.

And then—

He spotted them.

His mama—Evelyn Arlen—was the first to step through the terminal doors, wearing a stylish blue blouse, her graying hair perfectly curled, and an expression of absolute determination as she marched toward him.

Hank, his much calmer father, followed closely behind, carrying both their suitcases like a man who knew better than to argue with his wife.

Beau barely had time to brace himself before Evelyn reached him.

“Oh, my baby!”

Beau huffed as she practically launched herself at him, pulling him into a tight, borderline bone-crushing hug. “Hey, Mama.”

She squeezed him tighter, rocking them slightly. “Oh, I missed you so much! Let me look at you!”

She pulled back, cupping his face. “You look so good, sweetheart! But are you eating enough? You look lean.”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “Mama, I eat plenty.”

Hank chuckled, finally catching up. “Evelyn, let the boy breathe.”

Evelyn waved him off, still studying Beau like she was assessing his life choices.

Beau smirked, finally turning to his father. “Hey, Dad.”

Hank grinned, finally getting his turn to hug his son. “Doin’ alright, boy?”

Beau sighed, grateful for the much calmer interaction. “Doin’ great.”

Hank patted his back. “Looks like life’s treatin’ you well.”

Beau smiled, thinking of Y/N, of their kids, of the family they had built. “Yeah, Dad. It really is.”

Evelyn sighed dramatically, looping her arm through Beau’s as they headed toward baggage claim. “I still can’t believe my baby is getting married again.”

Beau chuckled. “Mama, I am not a baby.”

Evelyn sniffed. “You will always be my baby.”

Hank smirked. “You walked right into that one, son.”

Beau huffed, but he didn’t argue.

As they made their way through the airport, Evelyn sighed again, shaking her head. “And I cannot wait to meet Y/N in person. You know I have questions.”

Beau groaned. “Mama, please go easy on her.”

Evelyn gasps dramatically. “Excuse me? I am always charming.”

Hank smirked, muttering under his breath, “That’s debatable.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Watch yourself, Hank.”

Beau laughed, shaking his head. “Lord help me.”

Evelyn patted his cheek. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart. I just want to know the woman who captured my son’s heart!”

Beau smiled softly. “You’re gonna love her, Mama.”

Evelyn softened, squeezing his arm. “Well, I better. Because she’s about to officially become an Arlen.”

Beau’s chest swelled with happiness at the thought.

In just a few days, Y/N would be his wife.

And as his parents chattered beside him about the wedding, the details, the plans—Beau knew—

This was just the beginning of the best chapter of his life.

The drive from the airport to the house was surprisingly smooth, mostly because Evelyn spent the entire ride alternating between gushing about the wedding and subtly (not so subtly) interrogating Beau about Y/N.

“So,” she mused from the passenger seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she glanced at her son. “Tell me again how you met this wonderful woman of yours?”

Beau sighed, gripping the steering wheel. “Mama, I already told you the story.”

Evelyn waved a hand. “I know, but I like hearing it.”

Hank, from the backseat, smirked. “She just wants to make sure it wasn’t fate and you weren’t tricked into this.”

Evelyn swatted at his knee. “Oh, hush, Hank.” She turned back to Beau. “Continue.”

Beau huffed but smirked anyway. “Fine. Y/N and I met in a grocery store. Her daughter, Eliza, knocked over a whole damn wall of Chef Boyardee, and I almost got taken out by a rogue can of ravioli.”

Evelyn gasped. “Oh my Lord.”

Hank chuckled. “That does sound like a dramatic entrance.”

Beau grinned. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “And yet, despite the near-fatal grocery store incident, you still pursued her?”

Beau laughed, shaking his head. “Mama, I knew the second I saw her that I wanted to.” He shrugged. “Eliza was already set on us being together anyway. Figured I’d listen to the kid.”

Evelyn sighed, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, I love that.”

Beau smirked. “Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna love her, Mama.”

Evelyn smiled warmly. “I better.”

Hank chuckled. “Well, son, if your mother doesn’t approve, you know you’re in trouble.”

Beau grinned, pulling into the driveway. “Well, good thing I ain’t worried.”

As soon as the car pulled up, the front door opened, and there stood Y/N—poised, smiling, welcoming—with Eliza bouncing at her side.

“Bo-Bo!” Eliza shouted, launching herself forward.

Beau grinned, scooping her up with practiced ease. “Hey there, wolf-child.”

Eliza giggled, her little hands gripping his shirt before she turned and spotted the new faces.

Her eyes went wide. “Who dat?”

Beau chuckled. “That’s my mama and daddy, baby.”

Evelyn, already misty-eyed, gasped softly. “Oh, my stars—you are just precious.”

Eliza tilted her head, inspecting Evelyn with serious toddler scrutiny.

Then—she reached for her.

Evelyn beamed, taking Eliza into her arms as if she had always belonged there. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we?”

Eliza giggled, resting her head against Evelyn’s shoulder. “Bo-Bo’s mama.”

Beau smirked. “Yep, baby girl.”

Y/N, watching the interaction, smiled softly, stepping forward to greet Hank first with a handshake before turning to Evelyn.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N said warmly.

Evelyn sighed dramatically, shifting Eliza slightly so she could take Y/N’s hands in hers. “Oh, sweetheart, I have so many things I want to say, but let’s start with—thank you for loving my boy.”

Y/N blinked, visibly touched. “I’d say it was the easiest thing in the world.”

Evelyn made a soft, pleased noise before pulling Y/N into a hug—Eliza still in her arms, squished between them.

Hank, standing beside Beau, grinned. “Well, son, looks like your mother approves.”

Beau let out a slow breath, watching as his fiancée and his mother already bonded over Eliza’s chatter.

His chest felt full.

“Yeah, Dad,” Beau murmured, his heart settling. “I think we’re all gonna be just fine.”

And with that, the Arlen family officially began their final countdown to the wedding.

After plenty of warm introductions, laughter, and Evelyn insisting on taking over Y/N’s kitchen to prepare a “proper” Southern-style dinner, the house was buzzing with life.

With the wedding just days away, everyone was settling into their roles, and part of that meant making room for Beau’s parents.

Emily, ever the gracious daughter, had already volunteered to move into Eliza’s room for the week, letting her grandparents take the guest room.

Now, standing in the doorway of her temporary bedroom, Emily watched as Eliza carefully gathered her stuffed animals, arranging them in a very specific formation.

“You sure you’re okay with me staying in here, kiddo?” Emily asked, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe.

Eliza, very busy adjusting her favorite stuffed horse, barely looked up. “Uh-huh.”

Emily smiled. “You positive?”

Eliza paused, her little brow furrowing. “Where you sleep?”

Emily chuckled. “Right here.” She gestured to the small fold-out cot that had been squeezed beside Eliza’s bed.

Eliza tilted her head, considering this. Then, with a very serious expression, she said, “You scared of da dark?”

Emily snorted, shaking her head. “Nope.”

Eliza nodded, satisfied. “Good. ‘Cause I not scared either.”

Emily bit her lip, thoroughly entertained. “Well, I feel better already.”

Beau, who had been watching from the hallway, chuckled. “Wolf-child, you keep an eye on your big sister, al lright?”

Eliza gasped dramatically, puffing up with importance. “I protect her.”

Emily laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried.”

Beau smiled, stepping into the room and ruffling Emily’s hair. “Thanks for bein’ a good sport, kid.”

Emily huffed, adjusting her hair. “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure Grandma and Grandpa don’t start interrogating Y/N the second we leave them alone.”

Beau chuckled. “Oh, you know Mama’s gonna interrogate her.”

Emily grinned. “I’m just hopin’ I don’t get grilled next.”

Beau smirked. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I distracted her with Eliza.”

At that exact moment, from down the hall, Evelyn’s voice called out—

“Eliza, darlin’, come tell me all about how your mama and daddy met!”

Eliza gasped with pure joy, immediately bolting past Beau and Emily. “OKAY!”

Beau smirked, looking at his eldest daughter. “See? Problem solved.”

Emily shook her head, laughing. “You are so lucky she exists.”

Beau chuckled, pulling her in for a quick side hug. “Thanks for makin’ room for ‘em, sweetheart.”

Emily smiled, nudging him playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember this the next time I ask for extra wedding cake.”

Beau smiled. “Deal.”

And with that, they settled in, the house fully alive with love, laughter, and the final countdown to Beau and Y/N’s big day.

The next few days were a whirlwind—a beautiful, stressful, exciting whirlwind of last-minute wedding preparations, meeting out-of-town guests, and controlled (and occasionally uncontrolled) chaos.

The house was full—not just with Beau’s parents, but now with aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends rolling into town for the big day.

And Beau?

Beau was taking it all in stride.

Mostly.

Wednesday afternoon, just three days before the wedding, the wedding party gathered at the venue for the official rehearsal.

Beau stood at the front of the beautiful outdoor setting, dressed in his usual jeans and boots, but with a stunningly crisp button-up that Y/N had specifically picked out for him (“No, you can't wear the same damn flannel, Beau.”).

Y/N, standing a few feet away, was focused—going over every detail with the wedding coordinator, double-checking timing, confirming the music cues.

Beau, meanwhile, was grinning, hands in his pockets, watching his soon-to-be-wife with pure adoration.

Jenny, standing beside him as his best woman, smirked. “Alright, Romeo, focus.”

Beau huffed, snapping out of it. “I am focused.”

Jenny snorted. “Oh, sure. You’re real focused on staring at your fiancée like she’s the last drink of water in the desert.”

Beau smirked, shrugging. “She is.”

Jenny groaned. “I regret saying yes to this role.”

Poppernak, standing nearby, grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jenny sighed dramatically. “Yeah, okay, I don’t.”

The rehearsal went smoothly (mostly—Eliza kept getting distracted by the flower petals she was supposed to scatter, and Caleb absolutely tried to chew on the ring box at one point), but by the end of it, Y/N finally relaxed, leaning into Beau’s side.

“We’re really doing this,” she murmured, resting a hand on his chest.

Beau smirked, tilting her chin up to look at him. “Damn right, we are.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers over his jaw. “You ready?”

Beau leaned in, kissing her softly. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Jenny groaned loudly from the side. “Okay, stop, we get it, you’re in love.”

Beau and Y/N just laughed, completely unbothered.

By Thursday, the full guest list had arrived—which meant even more Arlen family members (and a few of Y/N’s long-distance relatives) were rolling into town.

The house became a revolving door of people stopping by, some staying for coffee, others just dropping in to hug Beau to death (his aunts, mostly) and grill Y/N on her feelings about marrying into this chaos.

Margaret absolutely took over as the unofficial hostess, making sure everyone was greeted, fed, and informed of every detail of the wedding weekend.

Her husband, Y/N’s stepfather, finally arrived that evening, having been delayed by work.

Russell was a kind, reserved man—someone who balanced out Margaret’s bold, take-charge energy with his steady, grounded nature. The moment he stepped into the house, he took one look at the absolute circus around him and sighed.

“Should’ve gotten here sooner, huh?” he muttered to Y/N as he pulled her in for a hug.

Y/N laughed, squeezing him. “Oh, definitely.”

Russell smirked, then turned toward Beau, eyeing him appraisingly before extending a hand. “So. You’re the one making my stepdaughter an Arlen.”

Beau grinned, shaking his hand firmly. “Yessir. That’d be me.”

Russell gave a small nod, glancing at Margaret, who was already smothering Eliza with kisses. “You know what you’re getting into, right?”

Beau chuckled, glancing at Y/N with so much love in his eyes. “Oh, I know.”

Russell sighed, shaking his head fondly. “All right then. Guess I can’t stop it.”

Y/N snorted, nudging him playfully. “You like him, admit it.”

Russell smirked. “I’ll let you know after the wedding.”

Beau laughed, but he knew—he had won over Margaret, and Russell wasn’t far behind.

Friday night, the last night before Beau and Y/N officially became husband and wife, the house was buzzing with final details, pre-wedding excitement, and last-minute preparations.

Y/N had made the executive decision that they would not be spending the night together—something about tradition and it making the moment more special.

Beau, for the record, hated it.

“You do realize,” he murmured, standing in the doorway of her room, “that this is the last time I’ll ever sleep without you, right?”

Y/N smirked, stepping up to him. “Exactly why you’ll survive one night.”

Beau sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You say that, but I’m already suffering.”

Y/N laughed, pressing her hands against his chest. “You love the anticipation.”

Beau grinned, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Y/N sighed against him, fingers tightening on his shirt. “Tomorrow.”

Beau’s lips brushed against hers. “Tomorrow.”

And as they finally pulled apart, Beau grinned, stepping back. “Try not to miss me too much, darlin’.”

Y/N huffed, shaking her head. “Oh, go sleep, Arlen.”

Beau smirked, taking one last lingering look at her before heading toward the guest room.

And as he laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, knowing that the next time he closed his eyes, he’d be waking up on his wedding day—

Beau knew one thing for certain.

He had never been happier in his entire life.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk, @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

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[zepskies]

Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

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[jollyhunter]

Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN

One Shot (???)

Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language

Words: ~4,050

Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.

And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.

The Broken Circle

Cold.

In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.

The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.

...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.

You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.

But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.

Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.

It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.

Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.

But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.

This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —

"Winchester?"

You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.

Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."

"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"

"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.

“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.

“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.

You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.

Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.

You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.

In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.

It ends you.

In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.

But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.

Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.

Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.

In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.

And what took him from you.

It is a walk on a tight rope, really.

With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”

Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —

“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”

You freeze in mid motion.

And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.

The world holds its breath.

This is impossible.

“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.

It can’t – NO.

You don’t dare to turn around.

Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.

You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.

It has to be my imagination.

“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.

You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.

He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.

Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.

Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.

This can’t be.

After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.

“Dean?”

His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.

Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”

He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.

But the way his name dropped from his lips…

It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.

“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.

“I’m Beau.”

Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.

Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.

Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.

Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.

He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.

“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.

But the room stays reduced to the two of you.

You feel like you’re on a tipping point.

Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —

“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”

At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.

The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.

Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.

“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.

Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.

You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.

Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.

Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.

They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.

You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.

The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…

“Will you marry me?”

Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.

“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.

The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.

But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.

“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.

Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.

Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.

“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.

“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.

When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.

He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”

Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.

You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.

But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.

The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.

Dean… is this you?

His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”

“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.

I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.

Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.

His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.

His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.

Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.

Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.

He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.

You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.

“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”

Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.

Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.

At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.

But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.

That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.

And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.

Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.

Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.

And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”

You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”

Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.

His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.

You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.

Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.

But from joy.

You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.

But in this very moment you didn’t care.

You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.

When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.

And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.

He feels warm. Warm.

A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE

I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT

Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!

Tags:

@aylacavebear

[deansbeer]

★ soup, snuggles, and mr. wiggles // beau arlen.

synopsis. you're sick during a visit to montana, but your dad, comes to the rescue with chicken star soup, snacks, and your old childhood stuffed bear, reminding you that you're never too old to be cared for.

warning(s). fluffy fluff fluff | older daughter!reader | caregiving dad beau | mild illness (stomach bug) | nausea | fatigue | father-daughter bonding | nostalgia | childhood memories (beloved stuffed bear & favorite soup).

kari yaps. i love my pretty cowboy sheriff sososo much && literally don't have anything written for him + this idea was perfect for beau, because one im an older sister / daughter myself & two my brain was wired up @ 2am ???? n i took that opportunity to write. but i only got halfway & BARELY got to finishing it 2day.

you knew it was a bad idea the second you bit into the chicken sandwich. something about it tasted... off, but you hadn't eaten at all during your flight from houston to montana, and your stomach didn't give you much of a choice. by the time you arrived at the airbnb you rented, you were already feeling the first signs of regret—your stomach twisting uncomfortably, your body heavy with fatigue. you chalked it up to exhaustion from the drive, but when you woke up the next morning, nausea hit you like a freight train.

you'd planned today for weeks—just you and your dad, a father-daughter day he'd been talking about nonstop since you told him you were visiting. he'd even promised emily she'd get her turn after you left because, as he put it, "this one's special. just me and my girl." and now, lying on the couch of your airbnb, wrapped in a blanket, you felt guilt gnawing at you because there was no way you could keep those plans. your stomach rolled again, and you groaned, reaching for your phone to call him.

"hey, sweetheart," he answered on the first ring, his voice bright with excitement. "you ready for me to pick you up? i've got the whole day mapped out—breakfast, a little fishing, and maybe we can stop by that trail you liked last time."

you winced, both at the enthusiasm in his voice and the wave of nausea that hit you. "uh, about that…"

he instantly picked up on your tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you said quickly, even though your voice was weak. "i just… i don't think i can make it today. i'm not feeling great."

"not feeling great how?" his voice lost its lightness, replaced by concern.

"it's nothing, dad. probably just something i ate. i just need to rest, that's all."

there was a pause, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "where are you staying again? that little airbnb by the creek?"

"dad, no, you don't have to—"

"i'll be there in twenty," he said firmly, already moving. "and don't even think about arguing with me."

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. "fine. okay, dad."

"what kind of dad would i be if i didn’t take care of my girl when she's sick?" he said, his voice softening. "sit tight, sweetheart. i'll be there soon."

true to his word, twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway. you managed to shuffle to the door, opening it just as he walked up, two large grocery bags in his hands and a determined look on his face.

"you look terrible," he said bluntly, though the warmth in his eyes softened the blow. "not that you're not still the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

"thanks, dad," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "just what every girl wants to hear."

he set the bags on the counter and turned to you, his hands on his hips. "all right, let's see what we've got here. crackers, ginger ale, that soup you used to love when you were little—chicken and stars, remember that?—and some popsicles, because you'd always ask for those when you were sick. oh, and a heating pad, in case you've got chills."

you felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched him unpack everything, his movements quick and efficient. he was always like this when you were a kid—hands-on, attentive, making sure you had everything you needed even when life got chaotic. and now, standing in your little airbnb kitchen, he looked just the same, though his beard was a little grayer and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

"dad, you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

he glanced at you, his expression softening. "yeah, i did. you're my kid, darlin'. it doesn't matter if you're five or twenty-five, i'm always gonna take care of you."

you blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. "i suppose you're right."

he gave you a small smile before turning back to the bags. "and because i know you're gonna get crabby—don't deny it, you've always been a little bear when you're under the weather—I brought backup.” he pulled out a small stuffed bear, its brown fur worn and familiar. "found this guy in one of the storage boxes last week and figured you might need him."

you let out a surprised laugh, reaching for the bear. "oh my god, is this… is this mr. wiggles?"

"the one and only," he said, grinning. "thought he'd been retired, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

you hugged the bear to your chest, shaking your head. "you're ridiculous."

"and you love me for it," he said, nudging your shoulder gently. "now, go lie down. i'll heat up the soup and put on a movie."

you didn't argue, too tired and too grateful to protest. you curled up on the couch again, the blanket pulled snug around you and mr. wiggles tucked under your arm. a few minutes later, your dad appeared with a tray—soup, crackers, and a glass of ginger ale—and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"all right, what's it gonna be?" he asked, grabbing the remote. "something funny? or one of those sappy movies you always make me watch?"

you smiled faintly. "sappy. but you're not allowed to complain."

"wouldn't dream of it," he said, settling into the recliner next to you. "though if i start crying, you're not allowed to tell anyone."

"deal," you said, your smile widening.

as the movie played, you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day. your dad stayed by your side, occasionally cracking jokes or making comments about the characters, his presence a constant comfort. and even though you felt awful, you couldn't help but feel a little better knowing he was there.

"thanks for coming, dad," you said softly as the credits rolled.

he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "always, sweetheart. you're stuck with your old man, whether you like it or not."

and in that moment, with the warmth of the blanket, the faint taste of ginger ale on your tongue, and your dad sitting nearby, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbite @deanswidow @jasvtsc @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @lacydollette @lustagel @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @ostaramoon @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @bluestrd @jackleslvr @fallbhind . . . ૮っ ̫ _ ྀིა

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Barlen

Summary: The reader is visiting Beau's family for Christmas for the first time...

Pairing: Beau x reader

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language

A/N: This is a little continuation of Bad Day but it's not necessary to have read that prior to understand this fic. Happy Holidays everyone!

_________

Beau tugged nervously at the collar of his thick burgundy cable knit sweater across the room. Even from a distance, you could see the flush of his cheeks as he was spoken at by his uncle.

“Uncle Cal was talking shit about you coming, you know.” You turned to the left, Emily standing there in a quiet corner of the kitchen sipping on a small glass of white wine. She must have misunderstood your staring because she was quickly shaking her head. “Dad totally said I could have a little cause it’s Christmas-”

“I don’t care if you have some wine, Emily. What exactly do you mean Cal was talking shit about me?” She faked a wave over to Beau when he tried to urge her over, using exaggerated hand gestures likes she was caught up in a deep conversation with you. “Leaving your father to fend for himself, hm?”

“Yup. Last time I talked to Cal at Thanksgiving he was riding my ass about not having enough extra curiculars for college. Or a boyfriend. And for liking you.” 

“Sounds like a dick,” you said, Emily smirking as you took a long drag of your beer. “Beau warned me he’s the family busybody.”

“Yeah but like,” she said, reaching behind you and grabbing a sugar cookie off a tray, “He really doesn’t like you. Rory, that’s my freakishly tall cousin that’s at his girlfriends, well Cal is his dad’s dad and Rory said his grandpa was calling you a slut on Facebook cause he thinks you broke up my mom and dad which is so not true but…yeah, that’s the boomer mentality you’re dealing with. Oh, plus he hates you for being younger than dad so there’s that too.”

“I’m thirty four years old, not a child,” you grumbled, hiding the desire to shoot Cal a dirty look. Emily saw through it though, munching on her cookie with big brown eyes. “Em, you don’t think I’m too young for your father do you? Or-”

“Um, you can stop right there.” She caught your hesitation and rolled her eyes. “You’re both adults and I know you and dad were just friends when my parents were together. Shit, you used to babysit me.”

“I know but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought…” She threw her head back, muttering a curse under her breath. “I’m sure Cal isn’t the only member of your family that’s been hesitant of me.”

“They like you a hell of a lot more than mom.” You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Come on, Y//N. She left dad at his low. No one bats an eye at your age except for the dinosaur over there and trust me, I know dad wasn’t looking at you like that until way after my parents divorced. It wasn’t until after everything with the camp and Avery and you were taking care of me here and you went up to Montana for work that you guys were together.” 

You reached back and took your own cookie, chewing on it slowly. “Well…it made your dad feel better to have someone checking in on you and your mom while he was in Montana figuring out what to do.”

“And then he went on leave for three months to move back here for a bit and suddenly you were moving up to work for him when he went back.”

“You moved back there too if I recall,” you said, Emily smiling at you. “What?”

“I’m just saying, dad is…not the most emotionally available man…but he’s getting there and I know it’s because you have that something my mom doesn’t. So if Cal gives you shit, I got your back.”

“Oh, Emily, you’re as protective as your father,” said an older woman with graying hair and a gentle smile. “I already told Cal to leave Beau alone or I’d make good on that promise I made when I was thirteen.”

You looked between them, Emily smirking. “Cal teased Grandma about a boy she was dating, like relentlessly, and one day she said-”

“I’d bust his balls with a bat if he ever spoke that way about someone I cared about again,” she said, giving Cal a look across the room that could kill. “Especially when it comes to one of my boys and their wives.”

You choked on the beer in your mouth, Beau’s mom smacking you on the back as you coughed violently.

“Arms up, dear, there you go,” she said as you raised them, still coughing as she hit you harder than any woman in her seventies had any right to. You took a deep breath and lowered your arms, rubbing your chest as you caught your breath. “Emily, be a dear and go rescue your father from Cal. Tell him I need his help in the kitchen.”

“But then I’ll get stuck talking to him,” she whined.

“Well…call him a boomer and start talking about tik tok and he’ll just get confused and go have a smoke outside.” Emily sighed but went off across to the far side of the house, Beau’s mom wearing that same mischievous grin you caught on his face and Emily’s. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my big brother but he can be a bit of a dickhead. Beau’s too kind of a soul to tell his uncle to go fuck a cactus.”

You smiled, her arm looping through yours. “I hope I didn’t scare you with that wife comment.”

“No, not at all,” you said, his mom eyeing you up and down with a hum. “Beau and I have only been dating-”

“My boy was broken,” she said as you caught Emily reluctantly join her father and Cal over in the corner. You gave Beau’s mother your attention, her face softening. “And then he broke more and when he started to heal, Emily getting hurt broke him even more and you know him, he hides these things so well. Now…that boy over there is forty six years old and he talks about you like he’s fourteen and has his first crush. He healed the right way with you so you two kids, you do whatever you want to and I’ll deal with Cal, got it?”

“Yes, mam,” you said as Beau approached, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, his mom slipping away with a smile. “I thought you needed help?”

“Heaven’s knows why’d you’d think that, Beau,” she said, humming as she skirted out of the kitchen and off to the family room. Beau looked back at you, tilting his head with an adorable confused look to his green eyes. 

“Your mom simply orchestrated an undercover op to get Emily to rescue you. Apparently I’m not as scary as your mom when I ask her to do such things,” you said, Beau smiling.

“Ah, well, she’s got grandma superpowers. You’re just a little detective. So not scary.”

“So not scary,” you said, Beau taking the beer from your hand and taking a sip, interlacing your fingers in the other. You let him lead you to the front of the house where you slipped on your boots and light jacket, Beau popping his feet into his dark brown leather cowboy ones. He opened the front door with a few fingers, tugging you out to his parent’s front porch on the outskirts of Houston.

“I’m sorry I keep leaving you alone in there to fend for yourself,” he said, leaning against the railing, passing the beer bottle back to you.

“Hey, we live in Montana. Your family misses you. I don’t mind sharing.” He smiled, looking out at the dark field across the street. You ducked under his arm, Beau wrapping his own over your shoulders, briefly kissing your temple. His sweater was soft against your cheek, his sharp inhale of your perfume making you wrap your arms around his waist and turn into his side.

“S’funny. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore.” You glanced up at him, Beau smirking and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He’d done that move a hundred times over but your breath was catching in your throat tonight as he grasped your chin, bringing your lips to his. He kissed you slowly, gently, like he had all the time in the world to devour you.

“You can’t just short circuit my brain like that you know,” you mumbled, Beau laughing against the column of your neck.

“But it’s one of my favorite things to do.” He peppered kisses up and down your jaw, playing your like a instrument he knew better than the back of his hand. You bit your bottom lip when he ghosted over your ear, hot breath fanning your skin. “Close your eyes, darlin’.”

“Beau, your parents are literally on the other side of that door,” you said as he chuckled. 

“Trust me.” Slowly you lids fluttered shut, Beau’s warmth leaving you. The deck boards creaked although you felt his presence, and smelled his pine and musky cologne, nearby. “Keep em’ closed.”

“Alright, alright,” you murmured before he was kissing you again. “Barlen…”

“I love when you call me that,” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours. There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice, your lips parting. “Did you know I never asked Carla to marry me? She just told me it was happening and I was okay with that because it was all part of her plan and I loved her. And now…I know we’ve talked about the somedays but…”

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?” you asked quietly, his head nodding once. “Why?”

“You’re so young and beautiful, darlin’. You have no clue. A family with me…you won’t have a normal-”

“Beau. You’re forty six, you’re ripped and so not old. I will never not want you and we could both die tomorrow so do what I always tell you. Relax and trust me.”

“Last chance to change your mind.” You shook your head, tilting your chin up in search of his lips. He met them, cupping your cheek as he took you in. “Open your eyes.”

When you peeled them open, Beau knelt down holding a square black velvet box in his hands.

“Will you-”

“Yes, Barlen,” you grinned, Beau chuckling. 

“Not even gonna let me ask?” 

“I’m excited, sue me,” you said, Beau raising to his feet and opening the box, shaking his head at you as he slid a ring on your finger.

“Want to get married?” You eagerly nodded your head. “Even if you have to deal with Cal?”

“I’m a detective, babe. I can handle a seventy eight year old stuck in the past,” you said, Beau wrapping you up in his arms and hosting you up. “Careful old man. Wouldn’t want you to throw a hip.”

“Eh, watch it troublemaker,” he teased, nipping at your jaw. Your legs went around his waist, Beau setting you down on top of the railing but not releasing you. “So. How long have you known I was planning to ask?”

“Questioning my investigative skills?” you hummed, Beau eyeing you up and down. “I’ve suspected since the fall when we had that kids talk. But I knew for sure when your mom slipped the beans and called me your wife in the kitchen.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, those big green eyes watching you with curiosity. “So you knew what I was doing when we came out here.”

“Most likely,” you said, running a hand over his head, brushing a stray strand that’d fallen over his forehead. “S’okay you got nervous. You’re getting better at the talking thing, you know.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he said softly.

“Well you are a good kisser, Mr. Barlen.”

“As are you future Mrs. Barlen,” he teased, laughing when a giggle left your lips. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Barlen, darlin’,” you said, Beau grinning wide. “See, we’re all set.”

You both jumped when the front door burst open, Emily standing there with an exhausted sigh, staring at her father. She raised her eyebrows, Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes, she said yes, little Ms. Impatient.”

“Thank god. He’s been this close to a coronary all day,” she said, turning to go back inside. “Grandma says we can’t open presents until you get your chicken shit ass in gear and ask so can we go do that now?”

“Welcome to motherhood,” said Beau, shaking his head at her. “We’ll join in a minute.”

Emily left, leaving you to smile up at Beau. “Wow. I never knew your mom had such a potty mouth. She’s always been so sweet.”

“Oh, she can swear like a sailor all she wants but heaven forbid I cuss in front of her.”

“I think it’s a mom thing, hun,” you said, Beau rolling his eyes when you heard knocking at the window. “We better get back in there before the whole family is ragging on you.”

“They can wait,” he said, holding you close to his chest. “Right now, the only present I want is you, darlin.”

_____________

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ SHE

LIVES FOR THE MEMORY / / A WOMAN WHO’S JUST IN HIS HEAD

BEAU ARLEN X GN!READER

EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI.

summary: beau can’t get you out of his head

warnings: blowjobs, gagging, (borderline?) somno

inspired by: she- harry styles

beau had officially broken the record for being the neediest man ever. it was only 9am and he had already pitched a tent in his pants.

he’d assumed that his morning would be as routine as always, beau would wake up, remind you of last night and then leave for work. but today, you’d reversed the roles and instead, you’d decided to wake him up with undoubtedly the best head he’d received in his 46 years of existence.

and now, flashbacks of the last hour had been rolling in his mind instead of solutions for this weeks criminal. as he stared blankly at his computer screen, beau played back this morning.

how he could feel you before his hazed mind even registered what was going on. how your hands splayed themselves out on his lower abdomen as your face nuzzled into his sweatpants. how those same deft hands palmed him before releasing his throbbing length.

before opening his eyes, he remembered revelling in how your hands stroked him oh-so-softly before feeling your warm mouth on him.

beau recalled extending a hand down to your head to cradle your hair, pushing you down his cock, eliciting a light gag from you and an endearing groan from him when his tip nudged the back of your throat.

he remembered mumbling out words of praise before opening his eyes, feeling heaven at the picture in front of him. you, naked as your body draped over his lap, arched to take him as best as possible.

beau groaned again, this time in agony, as he glanced at the clock above his office door. 9:15, it read. the tent in his pants hadn’t magically disappeared nor had it stopped aching.

beau realised he’d have to deal with these visions of you all day, practically living in his daydreams.

yeah as you can tell, i’ve finished watching big sky and am sort of on a beau arlen high. sorry not sorry lol- n.

[supernotnatural2005]

Office Hours

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Beau Arlen is a man of the law, but when it comes to you? Let’s just say, some rules were made to be broken, and some desks were made for more than just paperwork.

Word Count: 800+

Warnings: SMUT!(18+ONLY!!!) swearing, fluff.

AN: Happy Monday Guys! Just a short smutty Drabble that came to mind for our dear Sheriff. 🥵 Hope you enjoy 😘

Masterlist

The station had a distinct smell this time of day—old coffee left to burn in the pot, paper warmed by the setting sun through the windows, and a lingering trace of someone’s cologne hanging in the air. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of reports and the hum of a vending machine in the hallway. 

Most of the desks were empty now, the usual chaos of the workday having died down. A few officers lingered, finishing up their paperwork, their conversations muffled behind closed doors. But none of that mattered to him right now.

A fist came down like a gavel against the solid oak wood of his desk, hard enough to rattle a few pens.

Papers scattered across the surface—various cases he’d been looking into before the distraction. Because now, focus was a lost cause.

Beau sank into the back of his chair, his head angling heavenward, sharp breaths slipping through his parted lips as warmth engulfed him once more.

His gaze flickered downward, heart pounding in time with the ticking clock on the wall. Between his parted thighs, you knelt, your lips wrapped around his cock, your mouth a dangerous weapon wielded with precision.

His jeans had been tugged down just enough to free him, the pressure of your hands on his thighs keeping him anchored. The door to his office was shut, the blinds drawn, but still, he kept close to his desk—just in case.

You were trouble.

His trouble.

It was always like this with you. No matter how much he told himself he needed to be careful, to have some damn restraint, you had a way of unraveling him. Your touch was both a promise and a threat, a wildfire he had no desire to put out. 

He craved you in a way that was almost primal, a hunger that never seemed to be sated no matter how many times he had you. And you knew it. You wielded that knowledge like a blade, cutting through every last shred of control he thought he had.

“You sure about this?” He had asked earlier, when you straddled him in his chair, hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp as you kissed a slow path along his jaw.

His resistance had been weak, barely more than a rasp of concern as you whispered against his pulse, “It’ll be exciting.”

And now? Now he was undone.

“Fuck,” he ground out, fingers gripping the armrests of his chair, his restraint hanging by a frayed thread. You took him deeper, the wet heat of your mouth forcing a groan from his lips, barely contained. He could feel your throat constrict as you fought against your gag reflex, the sheer effort making him dizzy.

His free hand found its way into your hair, just holding—not guiding. He didn’t need to. You knew exactly how he liked it.

The sound of voices just outside his office had him snapping his head up, his breath catching. Jenny. And Poppernack. Too damn close.

You didn’t stop.

Of course, you didn’t stop.

His grip tightened in your hair, a silent warning, but all it did was spur you on. You pulled back, pumping his dick slowly, your spit slick along his length as you licked a teasing stripe along the sensitive underside. His body locked up, his thighs trembling as he fought to stay composed. 

He barely had enough time to yank his shirt down over his lap before there was a knock, and then the door creaked open.

Beau forced his expression into something resembling normal, though he was sure he looked borderline murderous as Jenny stepped into the office.

“You look like hell,” she remarked, arching a brow as she leaned against the doorframe. “Long day?”

His throat felt like sandpaper. His jaw was locked so tight he was worried his teeth might crack. And then, as if sensing his predicament, your tongue flicked over his tip before your mouth sealed over him once more.

Son of a bitch.

“Yeah,” he bit out, voice rough. “One of those days.”

Jenny eyed him, clearly debating whether she cared enough to pry. Meanwhile, you worked him over with slow, lazy movements, the kind that made his blood run molten. If she didn’t leave soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“You coming to the bar?” Jenny asked after a beat, finally pushing off the doorframe.

He swallowed thickly, dragging a hand down his face. “Nah. Think I’ll call it a night.”

Jenny smirked, casting him a suspicious glance before nodding. “Alright, suit yourself. See you tomorrow.”

The moment the door shut, his head dropped forward, fingers tangling in your hair as he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“You,” he growled, voice ragged, “are gonna be the death of me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips swollen, eyes dark with mischief.

“But what a way to go.”

And then, you took him to the hilt, and Beau knew he was utterly, hopelessly fucked.

AN: What a scenario 🥵 how many of you would love to be in the readers shoes rn? 😂 Let me know what you thought, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Beau Arlen Tag List: @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

[holylulusworld]

Lunchtime Delight - Kinktober 22

Summary: Lunchtime just got a little more interesting.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: teasing, naughty reader, edging, implied oral (fem rec)

Kink: Edging

Idea: by @elle14-blog1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Whistles caught Beau’s attention. He was about to get another cup of coffee when his colleagues started to make a fuss.

Beau stepped out of the small kitchenette to find the reason for the excitement. He frowned. His colleagues watched you walk toward his office, eying you like their latest meal.

What the fuck!!! He thought to himself. His colleagues acted like they’d never seen a woman in a light sundress before. You looked stunning, and your smile made his heart flutter, but that was no reason to drool all over you.

Well, maybe it was the way you swayed your hips when you spotted him.

“Beau baby,” you almost pounced on him before you stopped yourself. No public making out. Beau could be such a prude when people were around. But he’s a devil in the sheets. “I got your lunch.”

“We’d take some of her lunch too,” one of his colleagues snickered when Beau threw him an angry look. “Ah, you don’t share, huh?”

“Y/N,” Beau whispered your name. He placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward his office.

His hand dropped to your ass the moment the door closes behind you. He swatted your ass, earning a giggle.

“How can you come here, wearing this dress and get my colleagues hot and bothered?”

He watched you place the basket filled with his lunch on the small couch at his office. You grinned and turned around to bend over his desk to slowly lift your dress.

Beau’s breath hitched in his throat. You came to the precinct wearing not only a short summer dress but also nothing underneath.

“I thought you’d like the view,” you giggled and turned back around. Straightening your dress, you looked at Beau. He was fighting for control. You could see it in his eyes. “Have a good lunchtime, Beau.”

You pecked his cheek, smirking as he snarled your name. Teasing Beau wasn’t a good idea. He’s a master in punishment but you couldn’t help yourself. Your boyfriend is too hot when mad.

While he debated to bend you over his desk and punish you right there and then, you grabbed his hand to push it between your legs, letting him feel your wetness.

“All for you, my brave sheriff,” you smirked at Beau. “If you get off work earlier today, you can play with me.” You kissed his cheek again before turning to leave.

The food you made for him was delicious, and he’d love to thank you for it. If only you didn’t wake the dominant side in Beau with your behavior. Instead of calling you to tell you how much he enjoyed your food, he’d do something better.

Beau dialed your number, eyes set on the picture of you on his desk.

“Hello,” you tried to hide the smirk creeping up on your face as you answered his call. "What can I do for you, baby?"

“You are in big trouble,” he growled into the phone. Beau sniffed at his fingers, groaning as he remembered how you pushed his hand between your legs to let him feel your wetness. “I hope you know; you'll not walk, sit, or even stand properly for the next days.”

You giggled into the phone.

“Oh, you think you're cute?” He lowered his voice, making you whimper. “I want you on our bed, naked, on your hands and knees when I get home. Tonight, you will feel me in your bones. You will scream my name and beg me to stop, but I won't.”

Panting heavily, you pressed the phone closer to your ear. You pushed your legs together, to get any friction.

“I will make you cum so often that you'll pass out on me. And then, I'll fuck you even harder to wake you up. You should know what happens when you toy with me, sweet cheeks.”

You smiled to yourself and giggled again, anticipation getting the best out of you. “I can hardly wait for you to come home...”

Beau laughed at your comeback. He could hardly wait to watch you fall apart on his cock…

Beau watched you squirm on the bed. True to his words, he came home earlier for a little past lunchtime delight. In other words, he buried his face between your legs. It felt so good, almost like you ended up in heaven.

Sadly, he stopped right before you could reach the peak. He smirked and told you to relax while he dove right back in, pressing moans and whimpers out of your body. But again, he stole your high.

Frustrated, you kicked your legs and wiggled on the bed. It was no use. Beau held you down by your hips to tease your clit with kitten licks.

“No, stop,” you whimpered and batted your eyelashes. “Please, I’ll never do it again!”

“Never?” He cocked his head to look up at you from between your legs. “Is that true, Y/N?”

You nodded and choked out a sob, desperate for his cock. “Promised.”

“Well then,” he smirked and looked at your swollen clit. “Let me have a late-night snack…”

Tags in reblog.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, menstruation

“So…” beau started as I walked into the kitchen. “Wanna talk about why you ran outta my place last night?” I closed my eyes and sighed through my nose as I grabbed my coffee mug.

“As much as I don’t want to…” I filled the mug and slid into the seat across from him. “Probably have to.” I took a drink before wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Got my period last night. Had to go get supplies.” I said, taking another drink to hide behind my mug. Beau gave me a tight smile.

“Oh.” He said, looking away slightly.

“yeah.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just came out of no where and…”

“you weren’t prepared. I get it.” Beau assured me. “Uh how about we do dinner at your place tonight then?”

“sounds nice.” I said. He smiled at me as he got up, kissing my head as he passed. Later that night, I had just finished making his plate when he walked in.

“smells good.” Beau said as he came over, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Feeling better?”

“not really. But I mean…” I shrugged as I turned my head to kiss his cheek. “I’ve had worse.” Beau took the plate from my hand and went to sit at the island. “How’s your knee? Hoyte said you hit it pretty hard when you fell today.”

“oh she did did she?” Beau said, a small smile on his face.

“yep.” I said, trying and failing to hide my smile. “And pops body cam footage. And the call from the hospital that you had checked in. Hoyte make you go?” Beau was openly laughing now.

“yeah.” He admitted. “Said you would kill me if I didn’t.” I nodded and made a face. Beau looked away from me as he tried to fight laughing. “Oh shut up.”

“Fuck off beau.” I laughed. He shook his head as he took a sip of his drink. “Love you.”

“love you too.” He said, smiling at me. “Movie night?”

“movie night.” I agreed.

[waywardxwords]

The Fix

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Warnings will be listed on individual chapters. Language, abduction, domestic violence discussion/descriptions, drug topics are a few. I reserve the right to add additional warnings as I go.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Completed 11/17/23

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.” “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

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[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part One

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 2,185

Tags/Warnings: mentions domestic violence, intimate partner violence, minor problems with the police

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter One: Arriving On The Wind

Y/N stared at the employment acceptance letter. Your hand trembled. It happened. It was finally happening. A carefully cultivated plan that culminated in an escape from Billings with most of your possessions, a job offer, and even a place to stay until you saved up enough for a place of your own. Most wouldn’t have been so damned lucky.

Still… it was happening. Y/N got away. If Y/N got lucky, maybe Mark didn’t follow you, find you. A tremor in your hand gave away your nervousness, your fear. You swallow hard and brace yourself. You got away. You have the restraining order. You found a self defense class in Big Sky. You’re doing all you can do.

Except… it was so scary. Every step you took, you wanted to flee, turn around and go sobbing apologies into Mark’s arms. You hated it. You felt weak. Your therapist told you over and over it was normal, that it was a natural occurrence that happened between abusers and their victims. It didn’t matter. You hated it.

“Come on, Y/N,” you whisper to yourself. Mark didn’t break you.

You got away.

With a toss of your long auburn hair, a proud lift to your chin, you stepped into the insurance office. There was a ridiculously cheery bell chime attached to the door that made you want to jump out of your skin for half-a-second. It was… well, rather empty. Oh, there was a computer desk setup, the phones lighting up like a Christmas tree, but it was devoid of people.

“Hello?” you call out, hesitant. Did you come to the wrong place? Was the offer letter a fake? God, you hoped not….

You step further inside, your heels clicking against the linoleum floor. You look around the corner, and saw a solitary bathroom door closed. There was light peeking from the bottom of the door. Just as the certainty that someone—possibly the owner—was in there formed in your mind, there was a distinct flush and the sound of the sink running. A moment later, a portly man stepped out.

“May I help you?” he asked, friendly, if guarded.

“Uh, yes,” you said, holding out the letter. “I’m Y/N. I’m here about the job.”

“Oh! Y/N!” He ignored the letter, brightened considerably at you. “Excellent timing! If you weren’t coming in a few days, I was going to have to close up shop for a while.”

You blink, blink again, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, just some family drama in Tennessee. I’m the only one with Power of Attorney and my bloodthirsty relatives are swarming the waters. I would’ve hated to close the office. Please, come, sit, sit,” he insisted, gesturing to the only chair across the computer desk. “I’m Arthur, as the email says.”

You feel the knot loosening in your chest. Arthur was as cheerful as the offer letter made him sound. He ran over the whole business, allowing you to take out a notepad and scribble notes as he explained. Your history working in insurance was a boon, made it easier for him to turn the reins over to you while he dealt with the family drama.

Several hours later, reasonably confident, with copies of the office keys, you stepped out back into the Big Sky sun. Your mind was spinning with information overload, of program notes and the rules of his insurance department. Oh, Arthur worked with local and franchise insurance providers, but he definitely didn’t follow their rules!

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an anarchist!”

God.

However, just as you turned to head to your car, your gaze went up to the neighboring building: Big Sky Sheriff Department. Would there be any point whatsoever…? Evidently your body was saying ‘yes’ as you found yourself walking over to the front door of the department. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of a secretary desk with a sweet, older woman with a tight, gray-haired bun.

“Hi there! How can I help you?” she asked. She’s got a smear of lipstick on her teeth.

You were trying to decide how to tell her when a presence caught your attention. The door to your right opened, the one reading ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’, and a tall man with bowlegs stepped out. There was something about him, something beyond his attractive looks, that caught your eye. Not that he was ugly; God, far from it.

The secretary glanced over, saw the way you were staring, and smirked. “He’s a tall drink of water, ain’t he?”

You couldn’t look away. After a long moment, it dawned on you why you were drawn to him. He projected this protective air, a kind of warmth, that was at once guarded and incredibly open. As though, if you asked, he’d give you a hug that’d encompass you all over and soothe your hurt away.

When he glanced over, he gave you a polite nod, and oh my God—his eyes. They were so damned green you thought your heart was going to stop. A kind of mossy green that looked as though the sun were shining through them. He had thick lashes—that was so unfair, how dare he have thicker lashes than you?—and a neatly trimmed beard. There was the slightly crook to his nose, a minor imperfection that made everything else just seem all that more incredible. His hair was a bit on the long side, neatly combed back.

“Everythin’ all right, Doris?” he asked, walking over.

For the love of God, Y/N, breathe. You took a shaky breath and call up a smile that felt all kinds of nervous.

Doris smirked at you again. Goddammit. “Well, I don’t know, Beau, this youngin’ hasn’t said anything yet.”

Beau shot you a warmer smile and held out his hand. “Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am, at your service.”

Oh don’t you dare say anything dirty, Y/N. Once again, you force yourself to act, to move. “H-hi! I’m Y/N,” you said, taking his offered hand. His fingers felt rough and his hand was warm. The handshake alone was electric, firm. He wasn’t shy about making his strength known.

“Well, nice to meet you, miss,” Beau said, a slight questioning look in his green eyes. “How can we help you today?”

It dawned on you that his accent was out of place in Montana. If anything, it sounded…. “You’re from Texas,” you observed curiously.

Beau’s smile widened. “I am,” he said, hitching his hip against Doris’s desk. “You ever been?”

“Austin, once,” you said with a smile, finding yourself relaxing. “For the music festival.” He was so instantly likable, you were wondering if you were imagining it.

“Good choice,” he said with a nod. “Always nice to meet a fan of ACL.” He shifted his head, just a bit, with a curious tilt. “As much as I’d like to keep talkin’ to a pretty lady, Doris will kill me if I keep sitting on her desk like this.”

“Or threaten to keep my lasagna to myself,” Doris quipped, watching you and Beau with a keen eye.

Beau gave Doris a horrified look. “Doris! Would you really be that cruel?”

“Yes.”

Y/N laughed. The banter was delightful, as was Doris’s wicked grin. “It sounds like the lasagna is really delicious.”

“Big Sky has a lasagna competition—don’t ask me why—and every year, Doris wins,” Beau said, praising his secretary. “She treats me once a week with a big ol’ casserole dish of it. That she’s darin’ to threaten to withhold—”

“Then do your job, sheriff,” Doris said, pinning him with a steely look of her dark eyes. “And take this youngin’ into your office and talk to her.”

“You just said you don’t know what she wanted!” Beau said defensively. Clearly the idea of losing access to Doris’s lasagna was terrifying for him.

Doris whipped a look on you and you knew you were in trouble. “Well?”

All at once, the knot tightened again. Your voice didn’t want to work. Your heart was pounding. It must’ve shown in your face because Doris’s demeanor gentled at once.

“Beau, take her into your office,” Doris said, and there was something different in her voice. A note of compassion that nearly had you weeping.

“Yeah, yeah, hey… come on,” Beau said gently, lightly taking your hand with one hand and the other barely touching the small of your back.

Once he had you in a chair in his office, he shut the door and moved to sit across from you. He leaned forward with a concerned frown. “You all right, darlin’? Need water? Coffee?”

You shook your head. “No…” You managed to talk, finally. You took a breath, then another. The knot loosened enough for you to breathe fully again. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually fall apart like that.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We get all sorts of folks here in Big Sky. Sometimes, they’re a bit skittish like you. Just gotta treat you gentle and nice, like approachin’ a deer.”

You quirk a brow at him. You never imagined you’d be compared to a deer. “I’m sorry?”

Beau half-smiled. “That got you to shift gears, didn’t it?”

It did. It was such a bizarre comparison her brain shifted into the peculiarities of it instead of dwelling on Mark and why you were here. You couldn’t help it, you let out a soft laugh and shook your head. “I… yeah, it did.”

Beau sat patiently, giving you a gentle, waiting look.

It was that precise expression that had you pouring everything to him. Not all the details—no, that was too much—but how you escaped an abusive relationship, how you moved to Big Sky to get away, how you had to fight for a restraining order… and the fear that Mark would track you down. You didn’t want the sheriff’s department to go blind about any possible phone calls. You wanted them warned, prepared.

Within minutes of you starting, Beau pulled out a notepad and pen, and began taking notes. He’d ask questions, nothing too probing, sensing you weren’t ready. He asked for information—Mark’s full name, his date of birth, his last known address. He asked for the details of the charges, and that had you choking up at one point, especially when you mentioned staying at the hospital….

That part had Beau stopping, and something dark and angry flashed in those beautiful green eyes. Then it was gone and he gave you a soft nod to keep going. Through it all, you had the feeling he was genuinely listening, genuinely cared. Billings Police Department was never like this.

It took over an hour.

Beau raked his fingers through his hair and nodded. “Well. I’ll make sure the deputies are updated on this, miss Y/N,” he said, glancing at the pages he wrote. “That way if you give us a call, we’ll know what’s going on. I’ll have Doris reach out to Billings PD for the files, that way we have copies. Especially your restrainin’ order.”

He paused, weighing his next words. He reached into his top desk drawer, pulled out a card, and slid it over. “My phone number. If you ever feel you need to talk, if somethin’ got you jumpy, whatever, give me a call.”

Your gaze snapped up to him, more than a little surprised. “I can’t—”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, with that Texas drawl, had your heart stuttering. “There ain’t no shame in acceptin’ help. Take my number. You don’t have to call. I just want you to have the option.”

You swallow hard. Pride goeth, as the idiom went. You take the card, your fingers trembling slightly. You felt Beau’s gaze sharpen on your hands, and wanted to pull away. Instead, you fought that reaction and gave him a weak smile.

“Thank you… sheriff,” you said, hesitating on whether it’d be all right to call him by his name.

“Call me Beau.” He got up, walked around his desk and offered you his hand. You pause, then took the offered hand. How was it he seemed so much warmer than before? “I promise you… if he comes around, I’ll know, and he won’t be able to sneeze without me knowin’.”

Normally such a reassurance would make you laugh, mostly out of disbelief, but Beau’s declaration felt real. As though he truly meant it. “Are you always this helpful?”

He grinned. “Only for pretty ladies.”

This time you did laugh, but it’s soft and startled. His whole face transformed with that line, playful and boyish. “Well, thank you, Beau. I really appreciate it.”

Beau escorted you out of his office, again that light hand on the small of your back. “Anytime, miss. Promise me you’ll call if you need somethin’.”

You glance at him over your shoulder as you reach the door. “I will,” you promised with a smile, feeling lighter, more hopeful.

Doris watched you leave, then quirked a look up at Beau. “Well?”

“Doris… she’s gonna be trouble.”

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Beau Arlen Prompt Response

Summary: He put you with Hoyt and Tonya. For the day. What the hell had he been thinking?

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I couldn't resist. I love Beau so much.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!DeputySheriff!Reader

Warnings: sex (smut-light); implied sex; mention of violence; mention of injury

Word Count: 2486

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version ✨ Alec version

You made your way past everyone in the station, intent on one office in particular.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Poppernak greeted you with a grin. His smile slowly faded as he took in your expression. “Everything okay?”

“Just dandy,” you spat, surging past him. His eyes widened and he quickly got out of your way. If you were pissed and heading where it looked like you were heading, then he knew the best thing to do was to stay out of your way and possibly duck for cover. He hoped that when all was said and done that the office was still standing… as well as its sheriff.

You stormed into Beau’s office and slammed the door behind you. The man in question, who was on the phone, frowned and turned to see you standing in place, fuming. You were pretty sure he could see steam coming out of your ears from the bugging of his eyes and his hurry to get off the call he was on.

“Gotta run, Jas. Get back to me as soon as you have something. Thanks.” He quickly hung up the phone.

“Who’s Jas?” You seethed as he studied you, most likely determining how to respond.

Apparently choosing to try to butter you up, he gave you a bright smile. “Jas — Jasmine from Tech. You know that, honey, you’ve met her.”

You snorted and slowly approached his desk. “Don’t you honey me, Arlen.”

“Why?” He chuckled nervously, a response he had when he was anxious or becoming so. If you were using his last name, you were definitely pissed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” Beau saw your eyes flash and he knew he had said the wrong thing. Oh boy.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in disbelief. “What’s wrong?!”

He knew better than to say anything else, especially since you were repeating his words in a rhetorical-yet-sarcastic manner. Besides, he knew you were going to tell him whether he wanted to hear it or not.

“What’s wrong is you sent me out with Hoyt all day.”

Beau relaxed a little, thinking maybe it had been something worse: a forgotten birthday, or maybe he was supposed to have done something you asked him to do but he didn’t — that kind of thing. “I did, but what’s wrong with that? You two have been getting along better these days and you work great together.” Your eyes narrowed and Beau realized he was in for a world of shit. He had tried to be complimentary and positive, but apparently that was the wrong way to go.

“What’s wrong is that you sent me out with her for the day. With Tonya.”

Beau briefly closed his eyes. He should have known this would come back to bite him in the ass. The truth was he had been caught off guard himself and had to quickly scramble to make it work. 

Seeing him hang his head, you hissed, “Yeah, exactly.”

Tonya and Donno, for some reason, had not moved on after everything that happened with Paige and the 15 million. All of you knew that the two had most likely gotten what they sought after; why they remained in town instead of taking off to some tropical paradise that catered to those wishing to remain anonymous was a mystery. You happened to think Tonya had something else up her sleeve, but like Beau had said: unless there was evidence of some kind of crime happening, there was nothing that could be done. You also thought that Beau and Hoyt were both purposely looking in other directions when it came to Tonya and Donno because the latter two had helped them in dire situations involving their family members. You didn’t really care about Tonya or Donno, but from what your friends had told you, both had put the group through the wringer — and often, at that. You had no desire to see that happen again so you’d rather see them skip town altogether instead of sticking around to further scheme things that could end up getting your friends hurt in some way.

Unfortunately, Tonya had risen in the ranks of realty; she was now one of Helena’s most sought after real estate agents, so much so that she had become friendly with the mayor and even began rubbing shoulders with some county officials. For some strange reason, out of the blue, Tonya decided she wanted to do a ridealong with law enforcement — your department specifically, today of all days. Beau, in a spur of the moment, decided to spare Pops and the rest of his department as well as himself, so naturally, you got saddled with that duty as did Hoyt. You knew Hoyt and Tonya didn’t get along, yet you had no idea just how much the two women hated one another. You basically spent the whole day keeping Hoyt from arresting the woman on some trumped up charge, keeping Hoyt from her own would-be assault charge, and endured hours upon hours of bickering. Tonya constantly — and loudly — questioned the two of you as you did your job, in front of perps, bystanders, and witnesses alike. She even told a suspect you were handcuffing — with a wink — that she knew a good lawyer who also happened to specialize in police brutality. The man decided to go all Mike Tyson and had knocked Hoyt down with a punch and tried to take a swing at you, forcing you to outmaneuver him and slam him onto the hood of your car to swiftly get his arms behind his back and regain control of the situation. But according to her, you were using brutality with him. Sure. You may have snapped out that she should get her ass back in the car before she’d join him, causing a smug smirk to form on the woman’s face. “I’ll get you that number,” she told the man, and then slinked back into the car. You grit your teeth and handed the suspect over to a deputy, going to check on Hoyt who was back on her feet, prodding at a bloody cut on her lip.  

Tonya had been a grade-A pain in the ass all day and she seemed to get off on irking both of you, Hoyt especially. And not once did Beau ever give you a heads-up on just what you would be facing after willfully sacrificing you and throwing you into the mess without a second of hesitation. For someone who used to be your partner back in the day, he sure hadn’t acted like one today. How could you not be pissed? 

Hoyt wasn’t happy with Beau either, but she was currently getting looked at by a doctor due to your insistence. Cassie had met you both at a walk-in clinic and she was waiting to drive Hoyt back once the blonde got the all-clear. Tonya had scampered off the minute you put your car in park, chirping how much she enjoyed today and thanking you for showing her how Lewis & Clark County’s finest did for their county day to day. Before you could retort, she was gone and you knew she definitely had something in the works that was not going to bode well for any of you in the long run. However, at that moment, you were so pissed you could barely see straight and you only had one destination in mind: Beau’s office. So here you were, infuriated and ready to send heads rolling. How could he do that? To you of all people? 

Beau sighed and got to his feet, rounding his desk to sit on the edge. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that today and when she requested Hoyt… I could’ve sent Pop, but I didn’t think he’d be able to shut any crap down as quickly as you would. That’s why I sent you with them. But, I should’ve been the one to go, not you, and I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you should’ve been,” you hissed, crossing your arms.

He nodded and, after a moment, he reached out a hand.

You snorted in disbelief. “Really?”

Beau didn’t say anything, only moved his hand in a come hither motion, holding it out for you to take.

You let out an angry sigh and rolled your eyes, but moved forward to place your hand in his nonetheless. He pulled you to him, framed your face with his hands, and softly kissed you. You refused to kiss him back but ultimately, like always, you lost the battle and gave in, gently grasping one of his wrists as you did. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered to your lips.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“I promise.” He kissed you once more and you began to relax and melt into him, even going so far as to wrap your arms around his neck and slot your mouth against his more insistently. He released your face and circled his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could place you on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips as you straddled him. You could feel the tell-tale bulge pressing against you. You could definitely use some stress relief after the day you had, yet still —

“I’m still mad at you,” you panted harshly as he pressed kisses down your jaw line, his hands roaming insistently on your lower back. You weren’t surprised when a moment later they traveled further south and squeezed while he moved you back and forth over his growing arousal.

“As you should be,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck. “Matter of fact, I think you should show me how mad. Right here, right now.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he began to suck on that spot right below your ear, the spot he knew drove you crazy. 

“I hate you,” you moaned, beginning to grind against him more insistently.

“You have a weird way of showing that, darlin’,” he chuckled, one hand on your hip now to help your movements. He bit his lip watching you grind on him and he let out a throaty groan. “Fuck, I ever tell you how much I love it when you get all riled up like this and you need to get it out of your system? Because I do. Hell, maybe I oughta do something that pisses you off every so often so you can— ” 

“Shut up,” you growled and covered his mouth with yours, plunging your tongue deep inside to taste him and effectively shut him up. You were practically riding him on his desk and he was doing everything he could to hold onto you while keeping upright. At one point, you got so turned on, you broke away and began unbuckling his belt, desperate to get inside his jeans. 

“Door’s not locked,” he panted out though he didn’t move to stop you. 

“Don’t care.” Normally, you would have cared, but the infuriating bastard was right: you had all the pent up anger and frustration from today coursing through your system. You needed to get it out, now. You yanked his belt through his belt loops and tossed it to the floor. “And just so we’re clear,” you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, reaching inside and grabbing him, making him hiss when you gave him a couple of pumps with your hand. “We are not done talking about this.” You got to your feet and quickly whipped off your jacket and shirt, leaving you in only your lacy bra. You stripped down and then gently pulled him out of his jeans. You climbed back up and stared down into those fierce green eyes that were currently blown wide with lust. Despite mentioning it, he didn’t seem too bothered by the unlocked door either. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped Poppernak and Madge didn’t walk in on something they couldn’t unsee because you highly doubted either of you would stop. You were both too worked up, especially you, and you were the one in control. Nothing short of a natural disaster or act of God would keep you from working the tension out of your body. Your phone buzzed on the floor, most likely a text from Cassie to let you know she was bringing Hoyt back to the station. Besides, you had a feeling that Pops witnessing your fury earlier and all of them out there hearing the never before slammed door, they most likely knew they should probably knock first before entering the Sheriff’s office. 

“Now, we have exactly twenty-five minutes, thirty if we’re lucky, before Hoyt gets here to rip you a new one herself. Think you can manage to make it up to me and have me all relaxed by then, cowboy?” You challenged.

His answer was to line himself up with you and push into you, making you gasp as his other hand gently pulled your hip down so you would sink fully onto him. You both groaned at the feeling and he gave you his own challenging smirk. “I think you better start moving,” he growled. “Because if she’s going to kill me, I intend to die a happy man. Which means I’m going to be buried deep in you, sweetheart, with you making a mess all over me for the fourth time.”

“Four? That’s super ambitious,” you teased. You began to move and pressed your lips together, balancing your hands on his clothed chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let her kill you. I love this way too much… And you.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed slightly and he suddenly shot up, making you adjust a little to stay on him, and he cupped your chin. “I love you, too, and darlin’...I am sorry.” You knew he was, you could hear it in his voice and see it deep in his green gaze. You gave him a soft nod and a tender smile, pecking his lips — one final sweet moment —before you pushed him back down onto the now cleared desk and resumed your position once more. He let out a chuckle at the devious smirk plastered on your lips.

“You will be,” you promised in a tease. You then went about working your frustrations out, Beau keeping to his prediction of getting you to a point that you were very relaxed (and mostly dressed albeit in need of a serious shower) by the time Hoyt stormed into his office. And just as you had promised, you made sure he survived Hurricane Hoyt and you even let him drive you home, his hand on your thigh most of the ride. You were pretty confident that he wouldn’t be making the mistake of throwing you to the wolves again anytime soon but you ended up enticing him to pull over into a discreet area to serve up a reminder once more just in case.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Change

Summary: When a strange illness spreads across the world, the reader's father takes her away from society in an attempt to keep her safe. Ten years later the reader runs into some trouble when forced to be on her own one night but it's nothing an overly friendly sheriff can't help with...

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, attempted assault, minor violence, medical emergency

A/N: This is my first time doing Alpha!Beau and did a little twist on ABO for it. Please enjoy!

__________

Ten Years Ago

“Y/N!” You poked your head into the living room, giving your dad a smile when he stood there, back to you.

“Dad, I already got enough graduation presents. I mean it was just college, I didn’t need-“

He stepped aside, revealing the breaking news story on the tv.

Mystery Illness Affecting New York City Residents

He looked over his shoulder, frowning at you. “You’re not moving to the city next weekend.”

You scoffed. “Dad. I start my first adult job ever in two weeks. In New York City. I have to go.”

“No. Whatever the hell this is, it's happening there and putting people in the hospital. If your new job has a problem with that then tell them to kiss my ass.”

“What is wrong with you?” You stormed closer, furrowing your brow. Something was off. He was swiping a hand over his mouth, his eyes filled with dread. You glanced back at the screen with a swallow. “Daddy, do you know what this illness is?”

“No,” he said quietly, glancing down at you with a longing glance. “Tonight we need to leave town and go to camp.”

“Hunting camp?” He nodded. “But that’s in the middle of no…”

His face looked so much older all of a sudden, years and years of worry etched into the deep laugh lines around his eyes. “Why do you want us away from everyone?”

“Because isolation is the only way to guarantee you don’t get sick.” Paranoia. You should have called him paranoid. Said he was worrying over nothing. Said he was acting crazy.

But you simply nodded and excused yourself back to your graduation party with your friends, knowing it’d likely be the last time you saw them for a while. Or ever again.

“Dad,” you said that night as you packed up the cars, your father more frazzled than the time he lost you in the grocery store for all of eight seconds. “Should we call Em?”

“He’s the one that called me.” He shut the trunk, inhaling the night air deeply. “London. New York. Sydney. It’s global and it’s flooding hospitals. Em said small towns are next. I wanted you to have one last normal day, kiddo.”

“What exactly did Emmet say? Does he know more than what they’re saying?” you whispered, clutching your cardigan tight. “I thought he was in Africa doing that volunteer doctor program.”

“He is. But something…happened. People started getting ill and then acting crazy. Biting each other in the neck. Like animals.” Slowly you blinked, your dad pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know how it sounds, believe me. But I know my son and it’s the truth. He told me to get you safe.”

“Is he safe?” He closed his eyes. “Is he safe?”

“Emmet’s….” Your throat tightened, your dad wincing. “He called from his sick bed. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He said he loves us and we need to go before the whole world goes mad.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as he opened his eyes, gently shushing you. “Em isn’t dead, right?”

“I don’t know. His phone is dead,” he croaked out, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “But if what he said is true, the world will be incredibly dangerous in just a few days. We need to get you away from here before that happens.”

You wearily nodded, hugging him hard. “Dad.”

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Yes we will. I promise.”

Present Day

“Fuuuuuck,” you groaned, the wind knocked out of you as one, no two, men pinned you down on the hard pavement of the pharmacy parking lot. The supplies you’d bought for your dad in the middle of the night were scattered on the ground. Half your mind grappled with how you needed to get those back to dad at the cabin while the other realized the men were trying to remove your pants and hoodie.

You snarled and kicked, hitting something hard, probably a shin bone. 

A gunshot went off nearby and all three of you froze.

“On your bellies. Hands on your head or the next one goes through your spine.” The two men were rigid before rolling off of you on either side. You risked sitting up, backing away a few feet and turning on your bottom. 

It was dark but even so you could make out the handsome brown haired man aiming a gun at the men. He had a presence about him, a calmness to the situation you weren’t expecting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, his jacket riding up so you could spot the shiny gold badge on his hip.

This guy was a cop.

Good news and bad news.

“Mam, are you alright?” You blinked, realizing he was talking to you between speaking into the phone. You nodded, the man humming, mentioning something about backup.

Shit. You had to leave before you got wrapped up in this. You started to gather up your dropped items as the officer handcuffed one of the men. “Mind if I borrow that?”

You froze, staring at him. He nodded toward your hand and the new package of zip ties. You handed it to him carefully, the officer quickly placing one on the other man.

“Thank you, mam,” he said, handing the package back. You nodded, shoving the package in your bag and crawling over between two cars, reaching for the bottle of pills that had rolled underneath. “Are you sure you’re alright, miss?”

“Never better!” you squeaked out, grabbing the pills and tying off the bag tight. You popped to your feet, the officer rising to his own. “Uh, thanks.”

You started to leave when he took two big steps over, catching your arm. “Whoa, whoa. These guys can’t do anything to you. Backup will be here in two minutes tops. I know you want to get home but we need a statement and you should get that scuff cleaned up by a paramedic. Hell, I can do it for you back at the station.”

You blinked slowly, the man’s friendly smile turning concerned as you weighed your options. “Alright. I think you hit your head a little harder than we both realized when they knocked you down. Why don’t you take a seat-”

You kneed him in the groin, the officer crumping into a heap and releasing you. 

“Sorry!” You took off running to your car and peeled out of the other end of the parking lot before he could even get on his feet.

“Dad?” It was only twenty minutes later when you were entering the dark cabin, frowning that he wasn’t on the couch where you’d left him. “Dad!”

“In here for crying out loud!” You rushed over to the bathroom door, carefully nudging it open. Your heart seized when you saw him lying on the ground, his previously red inflamed leg now looking dark and swollen. “Did you get the-”

“Daddy, it’s broken. Why didn’t you say something?” He scoffed, forcing himself to sit upright against the tub. “Dad-”

“I’m not going to a damn hospital and becoming one of those…things.” He spit out the last word, venom laced behind it. You’d kept to yourselves the past ten years, dad only going to town in the dead of night to get food or supplies. Suffice to say, despite your best efforts, years of isolation hadn’t been great for his paranoia. Or your own.

He could never know that you were almost attacked. It’d destroy him after all he sacrificed for you. His home. His career. His life. Making sure you never got sick like Emmet had was his sole purpose.

“What if I drop you off at the hospital and…” both your heads whipped around when bright headlights shone through the windows. 

“Someone followed you. Get the shotgun and-” You slammed the door shut on him, ignoring his angry shouts. 

“Miss? It’s Sheriff Beau Arlen. We met just a short time ago. I’m doing a wellness check. Please answer the door.” You swallowed thickly, staring at the heavy wooden object. Shit, he’d followed you home. He was going to make you give a statement which meant being around other people long enough to get sick.

You glanced over your shoulder and sighed. Dad was no spring chicken anymore. Living in the woods and keeping up the land had kept him in good shape but he was getting older and there was no way he could survive a broken leg without help.

“Fuck it.” You stepped over to the door, frowning when you opened it. The man from before was standing there, a cautious smile on his face. “Hi. My dad fell earlier today. I think he broke his leg. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Okay. We can call an ambulance and-”

“He’s terrified of public places. Of catching the…sickness.” He raised his eyebrows, biting the inside of his cheek. “I know he needs a hospital but is there any way we can limit the number of people he’s around? Like a doctors office or something?”

He only cocked his head, eyeing you up and down. His nose twitched, inhaling sharply. You glared and subtly did a pit check. Okay, maybe you were a little sweaty but you’d nearly been attacked-

“How the hell…” Sheriff Arlen shook his head. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate his…needs.”

“Thank you,” you said, starting to shut the door when he put a hand on it. You stared at one another, the sheriff’s nose twitching once more. “Please leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Visions of what the men from earlier had planned on doing flashed in your mind and you clenched your fists, ready to fight. “Oh, sweetheart I am so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You grit out, widening your stance. He frowned, shaking his head.

“Your father might be able to be treated at a doctors office but you need a hospital.” You narrowed your eyes, the sheriff holding up his hands. “You call it the sickness? The rest of us call it the change. Now it seems to me that you lack some education on the topic-”

“I know exactly what those men tonight were going to do. I know exactly what the sickness, change, whatever you want to call it does to people and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not getting sick and becoming someone’s fuck toy.” He closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. Slowly, they opened to reveal green orbs, softly watching you.

“Sweetheart, your body changed ten years ago whether you believe me or not. Judging by the fact your only interaction with other people has been your Beta father-”

“He’s not Beta,” you growled.

“-Or very few works at convenience stores at night, you have never been around an Alpha long enough to be triggered into your first heat-”

“I am not one of those-”

“Omega.” Your brain went fuzzy when the word left his lips, hand gripping the back of the couch hard. “We need to get you to a hospital. Your first heat is incredibly painful without medicine. I know, I have a teenage daughter-”

“Stop talking!” you shouted, suddenly feeling flush in the face. You wiped off your brow before grabbing the nearest object, a pillow, and chucking it straight at his handsome face. “You did this to me! You made me sick coming here!”

“You became Omega ten years ago, the same night I changed, the same we all did,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “Now let me help you and your father before I have two patients on my hands instead of one.”

“Get out!” The room spun, a strong pair of hands catching you the last thing you remembered.

Your body felt considerably cooler when you woke although the sterile scent filling your nostrils made you want to gag. Great, you were in the hospital. You turned your head to the side, your oh so favorite sheriff giving you a waggle of his fingers from the other side of room as he read his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled, sitting upright with a strain. 

“I figured you don’t have an emergency contact besides your father on account the whole survivalist in the woods energy I’m getting.” You glared at him, the man leaning back in his chair, relaxing further. “Your father is alright but he’s in the ICU. I’ve been told he’ll need to go to a in-patient rehab facility to learn to walk on it.”

“What?” You threw back the covers and got out of bed, freezing in place when you caught his cologne. Your eyes fluttered, jaw dropping slightly. “Jesus christ what is that smell? That’s…fuck is this what crack is like? What kind of drugs did they give me?”

He chuckled, glancing up with a smirk. “Let me guess. Vanilla with a hint of tobacco. Fresh cookies, a campfire, the cool mist of rain and something fluffy you can’t quite describe?”

“How did you…” You said, daring a step closer. You had a million questions in your mind about your dad but all your body seemed to want to do was get more of that smell.

“Because I know what my scent is.” You licked your lips involuntarily, breathing hard. “Down girl.”

You immediately backed up, shaking your head. “I-I’m sorry. That isn’t like me at all.”

“It’s your first heat and I’m the first Alpha you’ve properly scented on one. You have urges. Nothing to feel sorry for.” Your cheeks burned as you returned to bed, sitting on the edge with your legs hanging off. “In a few hours, your medicine will have fully kicked in and then you’ll be fine. I have a teenage daughter and so you’ll get monthly heats but as far as I understand, it’s extremely similar to your monthly visitor you were already used to.”

“I’ve been having periods for years and it doesn’t feel like this,” you said, his scent tickling under your nose, turning you on more and more by the second.

“The…randiness fades. You’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at you. “You really don’t know anything about the change or what it did to us, do you.”

“I know enough.” He frowned. “Why is my dad in the ICU?”

“His leg is shattered. The surgeon said he suspects he broke it a few days ago. He’s lucky to be alive and still have use of it.” You closed your eyes, gripping the mattress. “He didn’t tell you he was injured until recently, did he.”

“He said he fell today and it was sore. I was getting some bandages and a painkiller at the store tonight.” You groaned. “The fucker. He’s so scared…”

You opened your eyes when you heard footsteps, the sheriff kneeling down in front of you. Gently, he took both your hands, offering a kind smile. “Yes, the world was scary for a little while when we didn’t understand what happened but now we do. There is no reason you and your father have to hide away in the woods away from the rest of us.”

“You called yourself an Alpha.” He nodded. You noticed how small your hands were in his, could feel the surge of power he held within them. “Like how in animal packs, there’s an Alpha sometimes.”

“Let me explain this to you in the most basic of terms.” You swallowed, his fingers sliding up to wrap around your wrists loosely. “People that were bad before the change are bad now and people that were good before are good now. All that happened last night was you ran into a couple of bad guys. They were Alpha but so am I. We are not animals and neither are you.”

“But you could bite me and make me…” He smiled, a tiny eye roll in there. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“What you’re describing is a crime. Consent is still very much a thing, little lady. Believe me, I have no problem putting Alpha’s in their place if needed.”

You raised your head, the man tucking your hair behind your ear. “Are you sure you’re not just an anomaly?”

“Miss, I have a fifteen year old omega daughter. If I thought that world was truly that far gone, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. Now, do you see her in this room?”

You rolled your eyes, the man standing with a chuckle. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“So you’re here out of the goodness of your heart?” you asked. He bit is bottom lip, looking shy all of a sudden.

“You’ve had a long night and I remember how frightening it felt the first night I changed. The world is no more dangerous than it was a decade ago. But it never hurts to have a friend when life gets hard.” 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a painful cramp ripping across your abdomen. He caught your wince and helped you to lie back down.

“Get some sleep. I’ll check on your dad for you.”

“Thanks. Oh wait.” He pulled up your covers and hummed. “Why were you at the pharmacy in the middle of the night?”

He smirked, patting your thigh. “I’ll check in with you in the morning, darlin’.”

Later That Morning

“Get out!” You flinched and backed out of your dad’s hospital room, closing the door behind you. 

“He’s still angry, huh?” To your left appeared your sheriff, sporting a tan jacket and khakis, brown cowboy boots adorning his feet. You sniffled and nodded, the man giving you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “Have you been discharged yet?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on a nearby bench, the sheriff joining you. You rubbed your palm with your thumb, skin peeling off eventually. He caught your wrist, gently moving it away. “He doesn’t want to go to a rehab center. He says he’s fine and I should take care of him until he’s on his feet. The part I hate is we both know it’s horseshit. He knows he needs help but won’t admit it.”

“Stay here a minute for me.” He entered your dad’s room, closing the door and remaining inside for a few minutes. The door opened with a creak, your sheriff waving you inside.

You frowned at your dad in bed, his arms crossed. 

“I’m sorry for acting like a child,” he grit out. Your eyebrows shot up, gaze shooting to the sheriff who was giving your dad a friendly smile. But there was an undercurrent of authority to it that made your heart skip.

“Thank you?” you said. He sighed, quiet for a moment.

“I will go to rehab. I’m not your responsibility.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you’ve…changed.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze shot down, your dad tsking you.

“Sheriff Arlen….informed me of some things about the world. I think while I’m recovering maybe you…could get a job. Get back out in the world, not be stuck with me.”

You bit your tongue. What the hell was up with him? Did he not want you around anymore now that you were one of those…omegas?

“Mr. Y/L/N, we’ll let you rest. I’ll be sure to get Y/N home.” Your sheriff put a hand on the small of your back that sent a pleasant chill down your spine. God, he smelled even more alluring than last night. 

Why did you kind of like it? How large his hand was, how comforting it felt. Maybe you were just touch starved after a decade of being alone.

“What is going on?” you asked when you were in the hallway. “Is he okay whatever your name is again?”

“Sheriff Beau Arlen. Call me Beau. Your dad and I had a small conversation. I explained a few things about the change and dynamic to him, told him I’d keep an eye out for you since he’s a tad paranoid. S’all good.”

You stopped, Beau leaving his hand on your back. He paused by your side, turning his head down. “I may have…sternly explained that you are the exact same as you were and that he can’t keep you locked away from the world. You’re a grown woman, you deserve to live your life.”

“And by sternly explained you mean scared the shit out of him.” Beau said nothing, only walked down the hall, urging you along. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I know you were discharged but you should still relax. I have some things to do but I’ll be by later on today.” 

“You don’t have to come back. I’ll figure everything out on my own-“ Beau held up a hand before stopping in front of you, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

“Darlin’, I made your father a promise and I intend on keeping it.” He looked past you, licking his lips and making your nose twitch in response. “But first, we need to make a pit stop.”

You woke with a groan, jerking up in bed. A quick glance at the clock showed it was early afternoon. Ah, right. Beau dropped you off with some medicine and a book on the Change or so everybody referred to it. You’d taken a pill and fallen asleep a few hours ago, your body warm but otherwise feeling okay.

You clutched your blanket to your chest when something loud crashed beyond the bedroom door. 

“I can’t believe they let you carry a gun,” said a young voice. 

“Next time you get kidnapped, I’m letting them keep you,” he grumbled. 

“Funny, dad,” the voice deadpanned. “Wasn’t it Cassie who found me actually? Hm?”

“Eh, eh, eh. Stop with the sass, child and help me make this.”

“Why are you helping this random lady so much anyways?”

“Just…cause it’s nice.” Your stomach grumbled loudly and you decided to risk exiting to the main part of the cabin. The door squeaked like it always did, two pairs of eyes on you when you poked your head out. “Y/N. How are you doing, darlin’?”

“Fine. Why are you in my house?” you said, glancing at the teenage girl standing in the sad excuse for a kitchen off to the side.

“Did you break into her house?” she asked, Beau looking back at her with a glare. 

“Of course I didn’t.” He punched the bridge of his nose. “I told Y/N I would be back later.” 

The girl looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I apologize for him. He gets a little too into helping people sometimes.”

“Why don’t you go on the porch and do your math homework?” She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head with a smirk. “Emily…”

“I said nothing. But your scent did,” she sang song before slipping outside. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, a strong whiff of a nice scent, his scent, hitting you. 

“Ignore her,” he said, still rubbing his neck nervously. You hummed, taking a seat at the two person table by the wall. “I hope you don’t mind we’re here. I figured you’d be hungry and Emily’s also an omega so she offered to talk to you if you’d like. She presented last year so she’s familiar with the growing pains.”

“You mean second puberty?” He chuckled, putting a casserole dish that didn’t belong to you in the tiny camping oven.

“It might not seem like it but we got off easy. You and I we just got a little something extra to figure out over a couple of months. She’s got to go through the whole deal.” You hummed, Beau wiping his hands off on a towel by the water pump and spinning around with a smile that made you relax. “So. How’s the pain?”

“Alright. Honestly it feels like a normal period, I’m just a bit warmer than usual.” You frowned, Beau’s face matching it. “You can skip the biology lesson since they gave me a run down at the hospital.”

“Will do. You get used to people’s scents pretty quick. It’s like personal deodorant and yes, you still need to use deodorant,” he teased, the air becoming thick. “Sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“Well…if you were going to hurt me, you had your chance last night.” 

“Those men…” He glanced down, stepping forward to grab hold of the back of the opposite chair and lean over top. Green eyes met yours, worry etched in them. “Did they explain the change to you at all, like what happened ten years ago, or just the body stuff?”

“No. I only remember people were getting sick and then my dad got us out of the city after my brother called. I’d just graduated college. I was meant to start my first adult job in NYC. So I don’t know what happened, only that my dad said the world was too dangerous for me.”

Beau pulled the chair and sat, biting his bottom lip. “It’s believed a highly contagious virus spread rapidly across the globe. A pandemic. This wasn’t an ordinary virus though. It didn’t cause illness, only…activated something existing within human DNA. What you remember from TV is when people got infected with the virus. I was living in Texas at the time. Me, Em, her mom, we all were floored. My ex was very warm but her fever never spiked high. Myself, I was exhausted. I could barely move for three days. Emily thankfully slept through most of it. She was only a little girl so it didn’t hit her as badly. When I woke up the fourth day, my ex was doing better and I felt much stronger.”

“And you had that thing on your dick?” He chuckled. “How the hell does that even work without absolutely destroying the person on the receiving end.”

“Because you changed too. Yours are just not as easy to see. You know child birth complications has gone down significantly the past decade. Women report far less pain too. We just…evolved as a species a little fast if you want to think of it that way. Most of us. There are a few people that were lacking in the genome sequence to be affected but by and large, we all became Alpha, Beta or Omega.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “My brother is a doctor in Africa, one of the first places that got sick. He told us people were like animals. Biting each other in the damn neck and then I never heard from him again. Anything to say about that?”

He looked up, scrunching up his face. “Well you don’t seem to have a phone around here but I will track down your brother for you. Um, we may have also…gotten physical proof that we have souls and biting an omega in their bonding gland connects them to the alpha that bit them on a metaphysical level but it only takes if it’s consensual on both sides and fun fact the bond will break if one person doesn’t love the other one anymore, like a divorce, not that I would…know what a broken bond feels like,” he rambled out, clearing his throat. You blinked slowly, Beau’s face stuck in that awkward position. “I overshared, didn’t I.”

“Just…a lot to take in,” you said, rubbing your own neck and feeling a tight, hard lump. “Is that my-”

“Yes. It’s where our scents come from and I uh, I got to head back to work,” he said, quickly standing. He adjusted his pants and you noticed the bulge, giving him a glare. “No! No, it’s not…Emily!”

“What?” she groaned, giving you friendly smile when she came inside.

“I need to check in at the station. Please explain…things to Y/N. Heats, scents, true mates, that sort of thing. I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, Emily raising her eyebrows.

“He’s kind of weird,” you said, Emily laughing before giving you a smirk. “What?”

“Now I get why he’s being so extra. You’re his true mate.” You put a hand on your head, holding up a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

Three hours later, you were more confused than ever. Emily was only a teenager but she was a smart girl and had explained the change, what being an omega meant and all of it. You were stuck on one little tidbit though. She could smell that her dad, your sheriff, was connected to you. Like soulmates connected.

What. The. Fuck.

You were still trying to process that information when his red truck pulled up, Beau waving awkwardly to where you and Emily sat on the front porch.

“Emily, pack up your stuff. We should let Y/N-”

“No, no, Alpha boy. This is how it works,” you said, freezing him in his place. His shift shifted wildly, strong and heated, musky with need. “I know why you smell so good. Were you planning on telling me you were not in fact just being nice last night but you were physically incapable of leaving my side at the hospital. On account of the whole fated mates thing.”

Beau’s gaze shot to Emily, his eyes turning stern. “Oh no big boy. You don’t get to be mad at her.”

He put his hands on his hips, sighing to himself. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

You felt like you had whiplash. Wasn’t he just about to argue something like you were too new to this world? Or no, we’re not mates, I was only helping. Or that it was only affection? Or that he couldn’t know?

“Would you like to have dinner with us?” he repeated.

“Wow,” said Emily besides you. “Her face is literally the what the fuck emoji right now.”

“Emily,” gritted out Beau. You held up a hand, Emily taking it and walking you down the two front steps. 

“Have you ever been to Donno’s diner? Oh my god, they have the best food. Come on, let’s-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” you gestured to yourself. You were in sweatpants that were a decade old, a plain t-shirt and your hair was a frazzled sweaty mess. Beau gently took your hand from Emily, his touch telling your body to calm down, that everything was okay.

“If you’d like we can eat in private but you do not need to hide from the world anymore. You are gorgeous just as you are,” he said, voice soft. Emily tilted her head, looking him up and down.

“He totally means that too. I can smell it.” Beau growled, Emily returning a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to leave so you two can bone?”

“In the car ladies, in the car,” he said, grabbing your shoulders and walking you towards the driver side as Emily got inside. “I apologize for the sassy child.”

“Don’t. I like the sassy child,” you grinned, Beau’s face lighting up.

“Really?” You hummed, Beau turning bashful. “She’s a good kid.”

“Seems that way.” You put your hands in your pockets, inhaling deeply. “Today’s been…”

“I understand.” You glanced back at the cabin, frowning. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“I’ve always hated this place.” His large hand interlaced with yours, squeezing the digits. “I don’t want to be alone tonight but I’m not ready for…this yet. I will be but I need to…live a little first. If that makes sense.”

Beau only smirked, a glint in his eyes. “I have an idea.”

Three Weeks Later

“Morning,” said Beau, knocking on the door to the air streamer, aka your new living arrangements for the time being. Beau and Emily had a home built last year after her abduction, something to give her some more stability. With that meant moving his air streamer onto part of the property and having it sit empty for the past six months.

Which meant it was perfect for you to be close to them, you were in town for your new job and you could easily drive to visit your dad at his rehab center. Beau had even offered to let him stay in the house when he got released but thankfully your brother was in contact again and he was going to take dad with him to Seattle where he’d been the past few years.

“Howdy sheriff,” you said as you opened the door, leaning against the door jam. He offered a cup of coffee and your heart fluttered. God, he was so cute how he did that every morning.

“Emily insists on you joining us for breakfast at Donno’s and I couldn’t tell the poor girl no so we’ll be ready to go in fifteen.” He looked up through his lashes, a smidge of cockiness in it. 

“Oh, we’re just going in fifteen, huh?” He shrugged, a strong whiff of his scent curling under your nose. Beau licked his lips as you absently scratched your neck. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

“You mean my pajamas,” he said, reaching out, tugging on the end of the oversized shirt that you’d taken from his room last night. Your stomach jumped as his knuckles grazed your bare skin, Beau stepping up into the airstream, making you walk back. A large hand rested gently on your hip, thumb stroking the skin lightly under the fabric of his shirt. “I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” You placed your hands on his chest, grinning up at him. “From what I’ve gathered, true mates bond immediately most of the time so I really appreciate you being patient-”

“Whoa,” he said, taking your arms in his hands, running them up to your shoulders. “Let’s get something clear, darlin’. You will never thank me for respecting your wishes and doing the right thing. You’re owed those things and sweetheart, I will wait as long as you need me to.” 

“I never met anyone like you before.” 

“Good,” he chuckled, leaning down and letting you press your lips to his. “Take as much time as you need to get ready.”

“I just need a few,” you said, reluctantly letting him pull away. “Hey Beau?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I lost ten years of my life? Because I let my dad convince me the world wasn’t safe?” He pursed his lips, leaning back against the small counter.

“There certainly was a spike in violent crimes those first six months. There was a lot of fear. We went into a lockdown, loosened restrictions as the science caught up. Emily was homeschooled that first year and I barely let my ex leave the house. But we figured out that the evil bastards that’d do those sorts of things were always the type of people to do those things. It’s like how-”

“You’d love to bite my bond gland and so would I deep down but you’re not jumping my bones to do it because that’s not the kind of guy you are,” you interjected. He smiled softly. “It’s hard to feel like I didn’t lose time, you know?”

“I understand that perspective. But…I didn’t move here until just last year and there was a lot going on with that camping disaster and Emily and my ex and I wasn’t ready for you either until recently. This is how and when we were meant to find each other. We’re soulmates, we didn’t lose any time at all.” He reached out a hand and cupped your cheek. You nuzzled it, placing your hand over top. “I thought you had to get ready.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “My heat’s coming up soon. I like you being here.”

“Stay in the house with me when it starts. It’ll help.” He kissed your forehead, a strong sense of calm washing over you. “Don’t take too long, omega.”

“I’ll be right there, Alpha. Promise.”

________________

A/N: Read The Change from Beau's perspective here!