#beau Arlen imagine

[waynes-multiverse]

Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

(Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition)

Prompt: How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader // Soldier Boy x reader // Beau Arlen x reader // Russell Shaw x reader

Warnings: +18 for some language and spice, tons of fluff, a smidge of angst

A/N: Something sweet to sweep you off your feet for the most romantic day of the year 😉 Happy early Valentine's from me, my loves 💖 (And big thanks to the lovely, amazing @zepskies 💜 for starting this trend in the first place. It's addicting 😂🫶)

Dean:

Dean isn’t big on Valentine’s Day and romance. Not because he thinks it’s an unnecessary holiday invented by greeting card companies, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to be romantic.

You’re aware of this and don’t care if he surprises you with a big gesture. Because truth is, Dean’s romantic when it comes to the little things.

You don’t care if he brings you flowers because he brings you your favorite take-out order when you so much as mention that you’re hungry.

You don’t care if he gets you a card because he gets up in the middle of the night and saunters all the way to kitchen to bring you a glass of water when you tell him you’re thirsty.

You don’t care if he gets you chocolate because he creates personal mixtapes for you with songs you said you liked during random drives.

He listens to you. He holds open doors for you. He protects you. He keeps you calm. He takes care of you when you’re injured. And he loves you with every fiber of his being.

So, really, you don’t care if he makes a big deal out of one random calendar day a year or not. It doesn’t prove his love for you – the little things do.

However, you’re still sweetly surprised (and moved to tears) when you find the Dean Cave dipped in the warm glow of fairy lights and candles.

He’s picked out your favorite chick-flick and your favorite snacks.

He opens his arms with a big, cheeky grin and invites you into his snuggly embrace on the couch.

There’s a box of chocolates on the coffee table, a few of them half eaten, and a note that reads: I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is. Be mine?

You smile and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Always.”

Flustered, he smiles, cheeks tinged pink, and kisses your crown. “Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart.”

Soldier Boy:

To say Ben’s old-school when it comes to romance would be an understatement. While the rest of the year his bedside manners leave much to desire, he strangely shines on Valentine’s.

Mostly, because he knows sex is a given on this holiest of holy days. No sickness or period can stop him.

If you accidentally died, you’re even sure he’d pull a full Weekend at Bernie’s and have a night out with your corpse.

First, he surprises you with a delicately wrapped gift on your bed: a tight-fitting, beautiful emerald evening gown and the matching lacy lingerie set.

Of course he got you underwear, even though he won’t mind if you don’t wear anything at all under that dress.

He then takes you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city, where he reserved a private room away from all the other commoners.

His attention is only on you.

He praises you all night long and gives compliments as if he's never done anything else his entire (long) life.

He orders the most expensive bottle of wine and the best steak and makes sure you know that it is.

He encourages you to play footsie under the table with him before he slips the heel off your foot, and your toes massage the growing bulge in his slacks.

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife.

Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views.

You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting!

But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen.

But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

When you come home at the end of the night (with a fucking horse-drawn carriage no less), Ben can barely keep his large hands from roaming your curves. You know he expects his reward now for being the best possible lover ever.

On the kitchen island, you also find a huge bouquet of red roses waiting for you. You can barely appreciate its beauty before the zipper in the back of your dress slides open. Well… rips open.

Between the thorny stems, there’s a card attached, too. It doesn’t read “Be Mine,” however.

Nope, it says, “You are mine.”

And you know he fucking means it.

Beau Arlen:

Your favorite cowboy sheriff will pull out all the stops as soon as the calendar on his desk reads February.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Your favorite flowers, your favorite meal, your favorite movie, a framed picture of you and him from your first vacation together, a necklace you saw in an antique store you mentioned in passing…

Some might say he’s a little overcompensating.

But Beau has made mistakes in his past, especially on the relationship front, and will be damned if he hasn’t learned from them.

So, he will make sure you feel wanted and loved till the day he dies, even though you keep repeatedly telling him he doesn’t need to make a fuss about Valentine’s Day.

Really, you’re good with picked flowers from the garden.

But Beau’s stubborn and won’t be discouraged. The southern gentlemanliness is rooted deep within his heart and soul.

This day is all about his endless love for you.

Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

There ain’t enough blow jobs in this world to make up for his devotion to you.

But on the big day itself, you are actually the one who surprises him with a romantic weekend trip to a cabin in the mountains and excellent fishing spots close by.

You know the biggest gift you could give him is some peace and quiet, time for himself, and a listening ear because he will surely talk the entire time about God and the world while you’re stuck on a boat with him.

But on the night itself, when you give him your gift, he’s actually speechless. Tears brim in his green eyes because you thought of him.

He’s moved, and it moves you.

Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

Russell Shaw:

You don’t expect much when Valentine’s Day looms in the distance. In fact, you don’t expect anything at all.

You’ve only been dating Russell for a couple of months now, and you barely ever see him. Your time together mostly consists of text messages, late night phone calls, and the occasional video chats.

You know his job is complicated. You know he can’t be around as much, even though you direly wish he could.

On the morning of the dreaded day, you receive a simple text message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! I’ll call you later!”

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little disappointed – disenchanted even. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it because it’s a stupid, unimportant almost-holiday.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place.

You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated.

Still…

As you park in the driveway after a long day at work where you watched your colleagues fawn over the bouquets they received from their partners, you feel disheartened when you still haven’t even gotten your promised phone call.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

But as you close the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You all too keenly pull it out and pick up, almost dropping it because your hands are jittering with excitement at this point and your heart is pounding furiously.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Russell greets you on the other end, the deep timbres of his voice sending immediate shivers down your spine. “You home yet?”

All your worries and sorrows are instantly forgotten when you hear the big smile on his freckled face that he’s surely carrying.

He’s worth it, you remind yourself, even when it’s not easy. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

“Uh, almost. Unlocking the front door as we speak,” you tell him.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you sooner. Was stuck on a plane. Long flight,” he says mysteriously. You don’t even ask at this point. You know he can’t tell you.

“No worries. I was busy, anyways,” you lie and hope he buys your nonchalance. “Anywhere interesting you are now?”

“You could say that, yeah…”

“Well, if you hold on a second, I’ll slip out of those clothes and make your evening even more interesting with some pictures,” you tease flirtatiously and push the door open to your dark apartment.

The light switches on by itself, though. You blink in surprise before the phone falls out of your hand when Russell beams broadly at you.

“As much as I love getting your dirty little photos, I think I prefer the real thing tonight,” he says slyly.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed these little snippets, friends! Do you agree with these? 😉

I legit stole Dean's half-eaten box of chocolate and the Forrest Gump note from another fic of mine. I couldn't resist. I can totally see him doing something silly and cute like that 😂

Happy Valentine's 💕

☕️ Ko-Fi🩵 Tag List

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn @thej2report @spnaquakingdom

Other lists that apply: @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @corruptedcruiser

[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? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

@deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester

@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant

@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373

@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[figthoughts]

thinking about helping bf!beau relax after a stressful day at work ⋆˚࿔

— smut, est. relationship. (beau x gf!reader) 18+

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

imagine beau getting home to your apartment after a long day, a deep sigh rumbling from his chest as he sits down on the couch, almost defeatedly.

“what’s wrong, my love?” you ask, seeing the exhaustion etched on his face, taking a seat beside him.

“just a long day, darlin’. don’t worry about it,” he replies, pulling you into his arms, caging you against his chest.

“you say that, but i do worry. i care about you, beau,” you smile, searching his eyes as the soft-spoken words leave your lips. you plant a tender little kiss on his cheek.

he hums with a tired smile as you plant another kiss. and another. and another. you kiss your way along his bearded jaw, your lips eventually finding his.

beau kisses you back lazily, letting his eyes flutter shut as his body melts into the couch, but as you slip your leg over his thighs and settle in his lap, it’s like a flip switches. he kisses you back hard, with a desperate intensity to it.

“so tired,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling at your shirt, “just been wanting to come home and see you. more than anything, darlin’.”

you sense the emotion behind his words; you can tell he’s had a rough day. you know he needs a little lovin’ right now.

you let him slip off your shirt, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, sucking and biting at your skin gently. he pulls at your bra straps and you nod, giving him permission to continue undressing you.

he pulls the rest of your clothes off, along with his, with such reverence in his gaze as he looks at you. his eyes widen as you settle in front of him on the floor.

“oh, sweetheart. you don’t have to do that, you’ve worked all day too,” he breathes out, his fingers tenderly pushing back some hair from your face.

“don’t have to, want to,” you correct him, taking him in your hand, your eyes locked on his.

he gasps at your soft hand wrapping around his cock and the shivers that run down his spine as you begin to pump him. you watch his shoulders begin to relax and the tense expression on his face slowly disappear.

“mmm, are— are you sure?” he asks again, his tone lazy and tired, his southern drawl coming out a little.

“positive,” you reaffirm.

beau rocks his hips a little as you pump his hardening cock, quiet and needy moans falling from his lips.

“ahhh… sweetheart, that feels so good…” he coos lovingly, watching you from the couch in awe.

you smile up at him, watching him through your lashes, enjoying his gaze that’s so full of love and affection.

as you take his hardened cock into your mouth, a deep moan erupts from his chest. beau’s hand comes to rest on your head, not guiding your movements by any means, but just out of desperation to touch you, to have the comfort of your body against his, even in that small insignificant way.

you bob your head up and down his length, your tongue swirling over his sensitive tip, tasting his precum as he watches you in a mixture of adoration and fascination.

“fuck, darlin’. feels so good. you look so beautiful like this,” he mutters, his free hand gripping the couch.

you hum around his cock, enjoying how the vibrations make beau’s hips jerk up towards you.

deep and strangled groans fall out of beau’s mouth as he gets closer, twitching against your tongue. you grab the base of his cock, jerking off what you can’t fit in.

beau bites at his bottom lip, trying to stifle his moans as they get louder. his grip in your hair gets a little tighter, now guiding you along his member. you let him, seeing the neediness and exhaustion still haunting his features.

“ahhh… oh, god— mmm, feels so good. don’t stop, baby…. please…” he whines out, his eyes locked on you.

you bat your lashes up at him, moving up ‘n down his thick cock faster, your hand still wrapped around his base.

he whimpers as he fights off finishing right there in your mouth, “ahh ahh, darlin’…. w-where?”

you look into his desperate eyes as you pull him out of your mouth with a ‘pop’, your hand still jerking his sensitive pretty pink cock. you stick your tongue out and open your mouth, answering his question.

he nods in response and grabs ahold of his length, jerking himself off quickly, “fuck, darlin’… gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours…” he grunts out, hisses and groans flying past his lips.

he lets out a deep pathetic moan as he finishes, his warm ropes of cum covering your lips and tongue as he milks his cock for every last drop.

your eyes stay locked on his as he shoots his load into your mouth. a small smile grows on your face as he slumps back into the couch, a tired but satisfied look on his face, “oh, jesus. baby, you’re so—” he shakes his head, unable to find the words to describe how strong his love for you is.

you obediently swallow, wiping the drops above and below your lips into your mouth, your tongue teasingly wrapping around the tip of your finger. beau groans again, watching you tease him as you swallow his cum.

“so damn beautiful,” he comments, “thank you, babygirl. i— i really needed that.”

you nod, shifting on your knees in front of him with a smile. you tilt your head and look at him as he smiles back at you, “i know. you looked like you needed it, baby.”

he hums again, watching you crawl back up onto his lap. his hands find their way to your waist, “is it my turn to make you feel good now, my darlin’? i’m dying to return the favour.”

you smile widely and shrug trying to play coy, but the excited squeal that escapes your lips as beau pins you down against the couch gives away just how eager you are.

A/N: first time writing for beau !!! the daddy issues in me are SCREAMING for a piece of him like actually it’s so bad.

requests and feedback are welcome!! reblogs are appreciated!! thank youuuu!!!

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4nicholas @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @atenea585 @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @artyandink @emeraldcrs @freyabear @a1ecmcdowell @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity

↑ comment to be added!

[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

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances Masterlist

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.

Series Warnings: None for now, unless you are bothered by stories that have children (toddler aged) and single moms.

A/N: I can’t say ‘no’ to Beau! Had to write him again. This is a different story involving Beau and x female reader, separate from Come Find Me.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | IN PROGRESS

MAIN MASTERLIST

[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.

[yanderejustforyou]

Give It All

dean x reader

You could feel the tension between you and Dean grow with every passing moment. It wasn’t something you could ignore anymore. The long nights of hunting, the quiet moments after a fight, the look in his eyes that he didn’t want you to see—but you saw it anyway. You always did.

Dean Winchester had a way of keeping everything inside, holding back emotions, hiding behind that cocky smirk and tough-guy persona. But you knew him better than anyone. You had spent enough time by his side, faced enough dangers together, to understand that there was a storm raging inside him—a storm he tried to hide from the world, but especially from you.

Tonight was no different. You had just finished cleaning up after a hunt, the sounds of metal clanging against metal filling the room as you worked in silence. Dean sat at the table, a bottle of beer in his hand, his eyes far away, lost in thoughts you knew were darker than he let on.

You didn’t know what it was, but something inside you snapped. You had been patient, too patient, waiting for him to see you—really see you—and tell you what you had been waiting to hear. But he hadn’t. And you were starting to lose your patience.

You set the knife down with a sharp clink, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

"Dean," you called out, your voice quieter than you intended, but still loud enough to break the silence. He didn’t look up at first, and for a moment, you almost regretted speaking.

But then he sighed, a tired, frustrated sound. His eyes flickered to you, and you saw that familiar guarded look, the one he always wore when he was trying to keep you at arm’s length. "What’s up?" he asked, like he wasn’t already aware of everything you were about to say.

"You know what’s up," you shot back, your voice sharper now, more desperate than you had intended. You didn’t even try to mask the frustration in your words. "You’ve been pushing me away for months now, Dean. I don’t know what more you want from me."

His gaze hardened slightly, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "I’m not pushing you away, alright?" He stood up from the table, running a hand through his messy hair, but it didn’t fool you. You knew this routine by heart.

"No?" you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "Then why do I feel like I’m just another person on your list of things to ignore? Why do I feel like you don’t see me, Dean? I’ve given you everything I have, every part of me. And for what? So you can keep pretending I don’t matter?"

Dean’s expression faltered for just a second, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it again. But it was enough to make your heart ache.

"You matter," he muttered under his breath, but you didn’t let him off the hook that easily.

"No, Dean, I don’t." Your voice was tight, tears stinging the back of your eyes. "You don’t let me in. You never do. And I keep asking myself—how much more do I have to give before you love me? How much more do I have to sacrifice before I’m enough for you?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and you could see him struggle to find his voice. The silence stretched between you two, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away, like he always did when things got too real.

But this time, he didn’t. Instead, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you. The space between you was narrow, but the distance he kept between his heart and yours felt like an entire ocean.

"I don’t know how to love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were so tired, so worn down, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something in him you hadn’t expected—vulnerability. Real, raw vulnerability that you knew had been buried under years of pain and fear.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, your heart aching for him in a way you didn’t even know you were capable of. He wasn’t perfect—he was broken, just like you—but you loved him anyway.

"You don’t have to know," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "You just have to try. I’ve been trying, Dean. I’ve been trying for so long to be here for you. But you push me away every time. And I don’t know how much more I can take. I just need to know that you want this, too."

Dean closed his eyes, like he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, like he was ashamed. But he didn’t move. His chest rose and fell with every labored breath, and when he finally opened his eyes again, you could see the storm in them.

"I do want this," he said, his voice rough. "I’m just scared… of losing you. I’m scared that if I let myself love you, I’ll ruin everything. I don’t deserve you. And I don’t know how to be what you need."

The words hit you harder than anything else. Dean, the man who had been through hell and back, the man who had faced down monsters and demons, was scared. Scared of you.

You reached out, your hand trembling as you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing across his skin gently. "You don’t have to be perfect," you said softly. "You just have to let me in. That’s all I need. All I want."

Dean’s eyes searched yours for a long moment, the silence between you heavy with the weight of unspoken words. And then, slowly, as if it took every ounce of courage he had left, he leaned into your touch. He didn’t pull away.

[avanatural]

That Simple

Part 9

Series summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sheriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for?  

Pairing: Beau Arlen x female Reader

Category: Fluff, angst, smut, 18+

Word count: 4k

Chapter warnings: Mentions of blood and stab wounds, mentions of kidnapping and homicide, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), hurt!sex, cursing

A/N: This chapter contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Beau tag list? Send me an ask! ❤️

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Beau Arlen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N cussed to herself, pinning some fabric between her fingers. She straightened out her dress and assessed the damage. There was a huge stain of bleach on the black-and-white checkered material. Great. She hadn’t heard from Beau all day, and everything else was going to hell, too.

Ever since she’d left her bed that morning with puffy eyelids and an exhausted mind, Y/N had sent multiple texts to the Sheriff. But he hadn’t responded to a single one of her messages. It wasn’t like Beau, not getting back to her. It wasn’t like him at all, even after their… Argument? Disagreement? Falling out? She didn’t even know what to call it. She’d been acting distracted, inattentive, and clumsy all day. As soon as she closed up her salon that night, she was going to drive up to his trailer, that was for sure.

“Hey, you okay?”, Charlotte, one of her employees, asked, coming up behind her.

Y/N jumped, muscles tightening in surprise. As soon as she caught sight of Charlotte’s signature pink hair, she recognized whose palm had landed on her back. She relaxed visibly and leaned against the front desk. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Charlotte took a look around, discreetly making sure that none of the customers were listening to them. “You seem pretty shaken up,” she continued more quietly.

Y/N shook her head and smiled at her fellow hairdresser as reassuringly as she could. “I’m fine.”

Charlotte briefly narrowed her eyes at Y/N, but ultimately decided not to push it. “I think your cellphone just rang,” she said, pointing her thumb in the break room’s direction.

Before Y/N could get out a single word in response, the telephone on the front desk started to ring. As soon as the shrill sound traveled through her ears, a sense of dread settled deep in her gut. She knew instantly that something was wrong. After the second ring, she abruptly picked up the speaker, beating Charlotte to it. She even forwent any introductions, instead going straight for a “Hello?”

Charlotte could hardly make out the hushed mumbling coming from the other end of the line. But she could clearly see the perplexed twitch of Y/N’s brow, and the tearful frown that followed.

“Yeah. What? What happened?”, Y/N asked, gaze nervously jumping back and forth between the computer and the day planner on the front desk. “I’ll be right there. Give me ten minutes, tops.” With fright in her chest, she hung up the phone and hurried through the salon to the break room, her hair bouncing with each of her steps.

Charlotte’s forehead crinkled with bewilderment as she followed her boss. When she entered the break room, Y/N was tossing her belongings into her bag. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Instead of giving any details, Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder. “Could you cancel my last appointments for the day?”

“What?”

“I gotta go. Now.”

“Emergency?”

“Yeah.” Y/N was already headed for the back door, in the greatest hurry of her life. Looking back, she threw one last glance Charlotte’s way. “It’s Beau.”

“Hi,” Y/N huffed, out of breath after climbing up the hospital stairs to the fifth floor. The elevator had been too packed with people and she couldn’t get to Beau fast enough. Her concern was spiraling from the tips of her jumpy feet up to her throbbing head. Her stomach turned like she was going to be sick all over the dirty white tiles.

The young man at the front desk looked up from the computer and met Y/N’s gaze. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here to pick up-“

“Sheriff Arlen,” the young man responded, eyes twinkling with recognition. “He’s a talker, that one. He, uh, he’s really sorry he messed up.”

“What- I-“ She paused and subtly shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into order. “Where is he?”

“If you round that corner, you’ll find him waiting in the corridor.”

“Thank you.” After sending a grateful nod his way, Y/N turned her back and followed the young man’s instructions. As soon as she rounded the corner, she spotted a row of chairs against the wall.

The Sheriff was sitting on one of the chairs in the back of the empty corridor. He was wearing the denim button-down that Y/N loved so much. Crimson blood stains were scattered across the blue fabric, and part of the material that was supposed to cover his left shoulder was missing. A thick layer of bandages peeked through the hole.

When her footsteps echoed through the hallway, Beau lifted his head. Their gazes met, prompting him to get up on his feet. He didn’t move beyond that, didn’t move a muscle. All he could do was observe her. He felt guilty, ashamed, and so damn thankful, too. He didn’t know what to do. How would she react?

Y/N gave Beau a once-over. Aside from the messy stab wound in his shoulder, he seemed to be fine. Relief seeped into her aching heart and her face contorted, eyes prickling with salty tears. Before she knew it, her boots where speeding along the colorless corridor. When her body met his, everything else around her faded into a big black hole of nothing, losing all its meaning. All that mattered was the injured man before her.

When her front bumped into Beau’s torso, he remained still, startled by the sudden hug. If he hadn’t been given painkillers, the impact surely would have hurt worse than it did. After a second of processing her reaction, an immense flood of comfort kicked in, breaking down his walls and making him slump forward. His unscathed arm wound around her, pressing her into his chest. What the corridor lacked in color and warmth, Y/N breathed right back into him. “Thank you,” he rumbled into her hair, “For comin’. I didn’t know if you’d-“

“Of course, I came,” she spoke firmly and pulled back just far enough to look up into his shiny candy green eyes. “I dropped everything the second they reached me. I got so scared that I just-“

Before another word could escape her, her lips were occupied by Beau’s plump ones. He cupped her jaw with his right palm and caressed her mouth with his own. As they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you’re ‘ere.”

Her body leaned forward, making her forehead press harder against Beau’s, her soul melting right into his. “Me, too.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry, too.” A few moments passed, filled with utter silence, until Y/N found it in herself to break their little bubble of reunion bliss. “What happened?”

“Some asshole thought he could take me out.” Tenderly, Beau let his thumb swipe across her cheek. He gave her a somber, heart-stopping smile, conveying his stream of emotions with a single curl of his lips. “He was damn wrong about that.”

”He was,” Y/N agreed. As soon as his touch slipped from her face, she took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The Helena sun had set, and it was getting breezy outside.

“Thank you. For takin’ me home.” Beau’s brown boots hit the wooden porch that led up to his homey trailer.

“Thank you for letting them call me,” Y/N replied as the two of them came to a natural halt.

“It was, uh…” Beau scratched the arch of his eyebrow. “It was actually Hoyt who made ‘em call you. I didn’t have the damn guts.“ He sighed, his eyes haunted by regret. “I wanted to text you all day, you know? I was gonna swing by the salon during your break. I had this… Whole apology thing planned out. Then a homicide got called in. We tried to solve the case…. And I got stabbed and had to be sewed up.“ He proceeded to roll his eyes, mentally cursing himself for not doing a better job, both at being the Sheriff and Y/N’s partner. “Instead of makin’ it up to you, I get in contact with you because I need something? That’s a dick move.”

“Beau, if you need me, I’m there, no matter what happened between us.” When he attempted to avert his gaze, she crossed the invisible threshold into his personal space. She took his scruffy jaw between her palms and made him look at her. “You hear me? You’re stuck with me, handsome.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, subconsciously leaning into her touch.

“I don’t deserve you,” she retorted, her tone shuddering with remorse as her hands fell from his jaw, “God, I was being such an idiot.”

“So was I.” Beau’s lips morphed into the gentlest of smiles, his fingers reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m so glad you’re okay, sweetheart. That’s all I should’ve said to you last night.”

“It’s alright.” Her hand landed on top of his, keeping his affection glued to her cheek, “You were just worried.”

“You stopped that robber, which should be all that matters, but…” His jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. “When I close my eyes, all I can see is you, trapped in his hold, and I just…” He stopped, incapable of finding words that could do justice to just how gut-wrenching his fear of losing Y/N was. Angry droplets of salt welled up in his eyes as he recalled the way she’d been held hostage. “I woulda done anything to get you outta there safely. Anything.”

Her eyebrows drew together shakily. Her mouth delivered a pained smile. “I know.”

When his tears threatened to cross the edge, he cleared his throat in defense and stepped away. He tilted his head toward his trailer and proceeded to change the topic. “You wanna come in? We could, uh, Netflix and chill.” With all his heart, he prayed that she was going to say yes. That she was not going to leave him just yet.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means,” she said, her smile turning from pained to amused. All Beau did in response was squint at her in the cutest, most confused way. “I’d love to,” she added sincerely.

“That simple, huh?”

“That simple.” With her spirits a dancing a little higher, she followed her partner into his trailer. Right away, she was hit with a feeling of comfort and ease. They were safe. And they were together.

“Let’s see…,” Beau said as he bent down and opened the small fridge in the kitchen area.  “Can I, uh, interest you in some… Cheap Beer? Water? Expired yogurt?”

Y/N’s chin almost met her chest as she looked down and grinned to herself. ���Maybe we should’ve gone to my place instead.”

Twirling on his feet, he turned back around. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m saying that I don’t wanna go separate ways tonight. Or tomorrow. I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.” She searched his eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. “If that’s okay.”

“Hell, yes.” Beau’s instant approval struck Y/N like a love spell. “After last night…,” he trailed off and cleared his throat again. “It’s, uh, it’s more than okay.” A charming smirk grew on his ample mouth, bringing the light back to his face. “But we gotta go grocery shopping first thing tomorrow. My girl deserves better than cheap beer and expired yogurt.”

Y/N was in the safest place in the world. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, she melted into Beau’s grasp, straight into the love he radiated.

His arm was folded loosely around her middle, mindful of the deep wound in his shoulder. He was her big spoon, keeping her tucked against his chest, fearing that her presence was only a dream. Fearing that she would disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold on.

“I missed you,” she breathed into the darkness of his trailer.

“Missed you, too.” The tip of Beau’s nose snaked along her shoulder and up behind her ear.

The pads of Y/N’s fingers drew random patterns on his forearm. The previous night, which had been cold and lonely, made her value their exchange of warm touches all the more. “You haven’t told me what happened today.” When her partner didn’t respond right away, she waited patiently for him to take his time.

Silently, Beau relived the bloodcurdling case he’d solved alongside Jenny that day. After releasing a sigh from the depths of his lungs, he spoke up. “A teenager was kidnapped. The guy was plannin’ to abduct her since she was just a kid. He killed her mom, drugged the girl, and took her to a room that was hidden in the walls of his house.”

The little hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck stood up in shock. “Oh my God, that’s horrifying. Is she okay?”

“We got to her in time,” was all he said. Inching forward, he pressed himself more tightly against her back, intensifying their embrace. He didn’t want Y/N to ruminate about the viciousness of humanity. Beau had done nothing but that all day, and it had exhausted him. That night, all he wanted was to get away from the horrors that made up his daily life. Lucky for him, the woman in his arms was his antidote.

“The guy stabbed you.”

“Don’t think about what could’ve happened. All that matters is that we’re ‘ere together.” He planted a kiss in her hair. A kiss on her shoulder. A kiss on her neck. “Two idiots in love, right?”

A sudden, honest chuckle broke free from Y/N’s lungs. It felt foreign, leaving her body like that. She suddenly realized she hadn’t laughed all day. “Exactly right.” Craning her neck backwards, she eagerly connected her mouth to his. The touch of his lips on hers was a breath of fresh air after being confined in searing uncertainty all day.  

“Hmm,” he hummed. His calloused palm spread across her cheek, keeping her head in place to return her feverish kiss. He loved it when she took the lead kissing him. She was like a lioness pouncing on her bait, which was his ultimate kryptonite. Beau felt himself grow hard, soon straining against his boxers.

Y/N noticed his undeniable arousal and ground herself back into him. His grunt vibrated into her mouth, making her head spin. She needed to touch him, feel him, be connected with him in every way imaginable. Overcome with mischief, she reached back to rub the bulge in his boxers.

The Sheriff had to break away from her to drag some air into his lungs. “You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he confessed, breath fanning her face.

Her blossoming need for intimacy set her insides ablaze. Her arousal flourished so fast that she felt like she was going to implode if her partner didn’t fill her up soon. “I want you,” she whispered to him.

Her whisper resembled a sweet symphony – music to Beau’s ears. “Want you, too.” Despite the stinging sensation in his shoulder, he strengthened his grip on her cheek, hooking his fingers into some of her hair to pull her close for another heated kiss.

As his tongue claimed hers, Y/N giggled, stomach fluttering wildly at his enthusiasm. “What about your injury?”, she husked, voice hushed by his fierce lips on hers.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

Then, after Y/N had wriggled out of her t-shirt and underwear, she helped Beau do the same.

“Come ‘ere, beautiful.” His arm reclaimed its place around Y/N’s torso, tugging her back against his front. His aching arm was bent across her side, his forearm pressed between her breasts, his hand spread across her heart.

When he entered her from behind, he was careful. Gentle. When his devoted lips attached to her neck and distracted her through the burn, he was patient. Calm. When he began to thrust, it was slow. Loving. But when he tightened his arm around her to drag her back into his thrusts, he flinched.

His wince landed right in her ear, alerting her. “Beau… Take it slow, alright? I don’t want you to hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed a sweet peck to her cheek and picked his lazy thrusts back up. Anything to please her.

But Y/N couldn’t relax. She couldn’t enjoy their connection knowing he was in pain. There was no way she could ignore his discomfort. “Beau, stop.” Her fingers dug into his forearm, making him cease his thrusts.

“You okay?”, he whispered into her ear.

It was so characteristic of Beau to ignore his own needs and focus on his loved ones instead. This time though, Y/N wouldn’t let him. She pushed her hips forward and rolled over, causing him to slip out of her. As she faced him, she could faintly see the beautiful outline of his finely chiseled features, illuminated by the moonlight. He truly was a work of art. “Lie on your back,” she said.

Staring back at her in the dark, he admired the faded view of her angelic face for another lasting second. Once his back was resting against the mattress, his arms sprawled out by his sides, she climbed onto him, straddling his toned thighs.

“What are you doin’?”, he wondered.

“I’m gonna do the work.” Her palm met the patch of skin that covered his heart. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he replied even before she’d completely finished her question.

His instant response made Y/N smile to herself. She sat up on her knees and positioned herself above his erection. When she slowly sank down on him, taking him in inch by inch, the couple hissed in unison.

Beau’s left arm remained by his side, granting his injured shoulder some rest. His right arm bent at the elbow, his hand clawing at Y/N’s hip.

“Better?”, she asked.

“So much better,” he grunted openly. His head sank further into the pillow as he surrendered to his arousal, to the feeling of raw bliss. To Y/N.

Once she’d adjusted to his size, she began rotating her hips. His shallow breaths became hers, and her quiet moans became his. His carnal sounds served as a manual on how to please him. A deep sigh? Keep circling those hips in a drawn-out forever symbol. A low groan? Slide down harder when rolling them forward. An unfiltered curse word? Jackpot. Repeat whatever it was that made him lose his grip on himself.

Slow sex had never felt as satisfying to Y/N. Maybe it was the fact that her heart was overflowing with love for Beau. Or maybe it was the fact his voice alone was sexy enough to send her tumbling to the edge. Maybe it was the fact that he was so deep inside of her that she lost every last rational bit of herself.

Beau’s long fingers kept clenching and unclenching around Y/N’s hip. With each roll of her hips, the arrow whose tip was coated with his release got closer and closer to hitting the bullseye. But he wasn’t ready to shoot just yet.

The Sheriff placed the soles of his feet on the mattress, causing his legs to bent, knees pointing at the ceiling. Y/N was propelled forward in the process and pushed a surprised gasp from her lungs. She chuckled and propped her hands against the trailer’s wall for stability.

Beau circled his unscathed arm around her waist and used his new-found leverage to thrust up into Y/N while she shoved herself down on him. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed through the trailer, and the windows started to fog up.

“Fuck…” The muscles in his thighs tensed, and so did his arm that was gripping Y/N. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead”, she panted, “I’m right behind you.”

“I’m gonna-“ He dropped his right arm from around her, letting go. “Fuck, I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t move.”

She scooped up his hand, guided it to her lips and kissed the back. “Do you wanna come inside me?”

“Is the sky blue?”, he retorted, baring his teeth with a grin.

Y/N laughed freely and pinned Beau’s wrist to the pillow, next to his head. She bent down and grazed his mouth with her own. “Alright, then.”

“You sure?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She skimmed her feathery lips along his bearded cheek until she was met with his earlobe. “I wanna feel all of you,” she muttered into his ear and felt his thighs tremble against her ass.

When she started to move up and down his manhood again, the swollen tip was trapped between her inner walls so tightly that it took Beau’s breath away. The thought of coming inside her drove him wild, making his hips rock into her of their own accord. A layer of sweat gathered between them as they slid against each other’s skin.

Y/N’s grip wandered from Beau’s wrist to his palm. She interlaced their fingers and pressed the back of his hand into the pillow. She let the jerks of his hips guide her and slammed herself down on his lap, lust shooting through her veins. Her upper body remained in a hunched position, giving her the freedom to adorn his lips with kisses.

Beau was so close to spilling his seed that he could barely hold back. And he could tell that Y/N was just as close when she buried her face against his neck, panting into the crook. She was shaking above him, her thighs quivering, her pussy gripping him hard.

The Sheriff wriggled his hand out of her grasp and thumbed her clit, rubbing it in circular motions. “God, you feel so good,” he all but grunted, voice strained and muffled by her hair.

“Come with me, baby,” Y/N moaned, “Come with me. Want you to fill me up.”

Her sultry words served his green light on a platter. When he shot his load into her, the pleasure was so intense that he checked out for a second, his vision resembling a grey, flickering tv screen. Static. Y/N’s cries sounded far-away for a while, overshadowed by the exceptional sensation of his swollen member pulsating inside of her.

Y/N, too, felt like she was drowning in arousal. All she could do was hold on while the current swept her away and took her straight to pleasure island. The fact that Beau was emptying himself into her, the feel of his warm release entering her body, it fulfilled her more than she could have ever imagined.

Then, once Beau had given her all the had to give, the sounds came back to him, returning back to normal, and he got to enjoy the hoarseness of her crying out his name once more.

Y/N’s muscles clenched excitedly a few more times before she stopped moving her hips. Her torso went limp on top of Beau’s, completely spent. Her pussy throbbed with the aftermath of what had to be one of the most powerful orgasms she’d ever had.

Gently, the Sheriff brushed back her hair, so he could have a proper look at her face. “You okay there?”, he inquired, a tinge of amusement coloring his voice as he studied her tired expression.

“If I get down, I’m gonna make a mess,” she chuckled.

“Mhh, that’s okay.” His smiling lips puckered and met the crown of her head.

“Are you alright?”

“Awesome.”

“Your shoulder?”

“It’s okay, darlin’. I’ve had worse.”

The two of them remained cuddled up in their own shared universe for a few more minutes. They passed breaths and kisses back and forth until Y/N’s limbs cooled down and began to shiver.

“I’ll be right back.” On wobbly legs, she climbed off and stood up to retrieve a washcloth. She could feel his release trickle down her inner thighs, and was unable to wipe the grin off her face.

Beau wore a toothy smirk of his own, watching in awe as the moon shone a light on her nude body. She looked like a statue of a Goddess, like a beautiful painting that was brought to life with precise, divine strokes of a magical paintbrush. He whistled at her, causing her to peek over her shoulder with a bright, lighthearted smile.

It was then that it hit him – together, they could conquer anything.

Tag list: @spnwoman​ @waynes-multiverse​ @akshi8278​ @aria725​ @deansbbyx​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @waywardnerd67​ @promiscuousbarnes​ @may85​ @mimi-luvzyu​ @ginabaker1666​ @daisythekitty​ @sarahgracej​ @j-worlds-blog​ @maggiegirl17​ @bellarkeselection​ @nerdyreaderpapi @lacilou​ @queensgirl718​ @leigh70​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @tmb510​ @roseblue373​ @iamsapphine​ @ghostofjoharvelle​ @winchester-girl67​ @raisinggray​ @caribbeangal​ 

[violentdelightsproductions]

Beau Arlen x Jeannie Walker - Prey At Night (Strangers AU)

Sheriff Beau Arlen and his girlfriend Jeannie Walker are expecting a relaxing weekend at a family vacation home, but their stay turns out to be anything but peaceful.  As weird occurrences disrupt them, they begin to realize that they are being stalked by someone or someones. Sonn their romantic weekend turns into into a nightmarish fight for survival. But maybe before the night is over the hunters will become the prey.

People are strange When you're a stranger Faces look ugly When you're alone Women seem wicked When you're unwanted Streets are uneven When you're down When you're strange Faces come out of the rain When you're strange No one remembers your name When you're strange When you're strange When you're strange

Find our new Halloween videos and edits here! Our Halloween edits throughout the years!

[ant0niepax]

Honestly I love how I upgraded from Wattpad to tumblr, less cringe but still cringe to keep it entering

[supernotnatural2005]

I’ve seen the boys, it’s a great show, i can confirm. Big Sky i am a little less familiar with, but i think Beau is a wonderful character, and hello!? Hot Sheriff alert! 🥵😂 But i’m glad your curiosity was piqued enough for you to read ❤️

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 😊

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 12

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+, a heavy dose of angst, kidnapping, violence, injuries, serial killers, death, an awful cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! 🥳 We jump straight into 2025 with an angsty banger 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 12: Through

On one of the sunniest mornings Helena had seen in recent days, the peaceful quiet of the early risers in the Sheriff’s Department was disturbed by one restless sheriff.

Beau was taking his office apart – bit by bit, nail by nail, panel by panel, brick by brick.

The search for you had gone on all night and yielded zero results. You were nowhere to be found. For all Beau knew, you could be dead by now and buried in the vast woods of Montana.

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away.

“You okay?” Jenny checked carefully.

“I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

“Thought you already found that hours ago,” Jenny noted with a raised brow.

“Can’t be too careful…” the sheriff murmured, his focus landing on the pile of pens on his desk. The silver one – had that always been there? He picked it up. “Does this look normal to you?”

Jenny only offered a shrug.

“Never mind,” Beau muttered and reduced the pen down to its individual parts. Nothing. Just a plain, old pen.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“What d’you think?”

At five in the morning, Beau had promised Jenny he’d snooze for half an hour on the couch in his office. He did lie down, stared at the suspended ceiling tiles for about a minute, and then remembered the damn camera.

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy.

How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

“Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that Randy went into Interrogation Room 2 with Diane…”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…” Jenny exhaled a deep sigh and leaned against the door frame. “He said you’d deputized him and authorized it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Beau ran a hand across his face, rubbing his beard.

Rule #3: She’s my wife. I get to decide how we proceed.

Rule #4: You’re not the boss of me.

“Well, I did deputize him,” Beau admitted. He had given his former partner a long leash, not expecting he’d bolt through the backyard.

“Beau…” Jenny clearly didn’t approve.

“He left me no choice, alright?!”

Well, no choice his guilt could deal with.

The sheriff then left his destroyed office and thundered into Interrogation Room 2 down the hall. Randy wouldn’t get to do this alone. Beau knew there was an ulterior motive – if only Randy saved you, he could also miraculously save his marriage. Randy was a persistent motherfucker. He wouldn’t give up.

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beau charged in with steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, his anger was so focused on his friend, he didn’t even notice the rising smile on Diane’s lips.

“Good morning, Sheriff Arlen.” Even if Diane’s voice sounded melodious, to Beau it was still chalk on board. “Remodeling the office, are we?”

“You mind?” Randy prompted stand-offishly, glancing up at the sheriff. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Outside. Now,” was all Beau said.

Defiantly and miffed by the authoritative tone, Randy followed him to the hall.

“Play nice, boys!” Diane’s voice echoed through before the door fell into its lock.

“What d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just talk to our prime suspect without my presence!” Beau roared.

Randy rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know I needed a babysitter…”

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

“Yeah, which is why I’m talking to the only lead we have! That bitch knows where she is,” Randy countered with an equal amount of fury.

“She’s not gonna tell you!”

Randy only shrugged – cocky in nature and completely unlike him. And Beau then realized something that had changed: His friend wouldn’t back down anymore and bend. Those days were over, and it was probably Beau’s own fault.

“We’ll see,” Randy said stubbornly, his hand wandering back to the door handle. “You comin’?”

Beau inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before nodding – and back into the lion’s den they went.

Diane welcomed them with a sneer. “All made up?”

“Tell us where Turner took her,” Randy demanded with a stern expression and firm voice.

If Randy wanted to play bad cop, the role of good cop fell to Beau by default. And although they had never ever played it that way before, Beau figured Randy carried more anger than even him right now. He might as well let him make good use of it.

“Can’t.” Diane twitched her shoulders. “Hal doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh, and we’re just supposed to believe that?” Beau lifted a brow in mock. “C’mon, Diane…”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling. “Call it an insurance policy in case one of you Neanderthals decides to go rogue on me – looking at you specifically, Sheriff Arlen. If you leave your own partner to die in a filthy warehouse, I don’t wanna know what you do to your enemies.” She then looked at Randy, whispering behind her palm, “You know, I think he did it on purpose.”

Beau clicked his tongue and snorted humorlessly. “Alright, Diane, you’ve had your fun. You’ve wreaked havoc… You’ve won, okay? Fair and square. Just give up your partner, tell us where Y/N is, and end this once and for all. Might even get a better deal if you do. Think about it. Murdering an FBI agent doesn’t look good in front of a judge and jury. We have iron-clad proof you killed at least five people in Texas. Capital murder, death penalty… See where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, Sheriff. And I’ve told you: I don’t know where she is now,” Diane reiterated with the same infuriating smile. Her gray eyes then wandered to a wall clock behind the men. “At least not yet.”

Randy and Beau both followed her gaze and stared at that same clock. Their eyes widened.

“Then when?” Randy prompted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” Diane smirked. “If she makes it out alive, she can tell you in person she’s choosing the rugged sheriff here over you, Detective Nichols.”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching under the metal table.

“I gave her a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you mean like the others?” Beau had known from the start that it would be useless talking to her.

“They all could’ve gotten out,” said Diane as if she blamed the victims for not being smarter and more durable. “‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk, “Yeah, I know about the cute little nicknames for your deputies too, Sheriff. I wonder how many bugs you’ve found yet in your office. Sure it can’t be all of them. Maybe I’ve bugged the whole station. Who’s to say? Have you checked your trailer yet? The lovely agent’s motel room? No?”

Beau couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling that clutched his heart and twisted it like a boa constrictor. Pain, fear, anger, sadness – a deadly cocktail for anyone. Was this throbbing sting in his chest what a heart attack felt like? Only recently, he’d read an article in the paper about a guy his age who just dropped dead. Was this it for him?

Would it mean he'd get to see you again, though?

“Enough of that!”

Randy’s voice rang in his ears, but Beau couldn’t refocus. He needed fresh air to breathe, his lungs dried up and clinging to every molecule like he’d been deprived of oxygen for days. The small room felt suddenly suffocating as the monster across from him sneered joyfully.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re saying all that horseshit ‘cause you wanna hurt him or me,” Randy said, his voice laced with a darkness Beau had never seen before.

“Little bit of both,” Diane teased with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care either way,” Randy huffed, the deep creases in his brow casting threatening shadows on his face. “Do your worst to me or him. Hell, burn us at the stake if it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, but all I wanna know is where that bunker is. Where is she? Your beef’s clearly with us. Men, right? You know she doesn’t deserve this. Just let her go.”

Diane seemed unamused by the suggestion, leaning back in the metal chair. “You’re right. She doesn’t deserve this. I actually like her. She reminds me of me. But you two did this to her. It’s out of my hands at this point. You don’t deserve her, sheriff,” she said and looked at Beau before her cold eyes shifted to Randy. “Neither do you, detective. I know a lot of things – and not just about the sheriff here. I know what you did to her, too.”

Randy forced a tight smile. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Am I?” Diane quirked a brow and then sent him an innocent smile. “About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

With a thick swallow and a glare swimming in his hazel eyes, Randy nodded. “We’re done here.”

Diane let out a long, suspenseful sigh, not bothering to engage further. Her icy heart wouldn’t melt. Her eyes flickered around the bleak, depressing room. “I miss windows. Haven’t seen the outside for days.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t gonna,” Beau huffed. He had quietly listened, his heart rate slowing down as his head started spinning with questions. You had never told him anything. He had never asked. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about your marriage. Beau always figured knowing too much would only make it worse.

“Too bad. I always liked the autumn sunsets. When it gets dark sooner…” Diane then stretched out her neck. “Anyways, nice chatting with you boys, but it’s time for my beauty nap now. Which one of you two cowboys is gonna accompany me back to my cell, hm?”

The men shared a look and then wordlessly rose, leaving the room. In the safety of the hallway, Beau ran a hand over his face and took his first deep breath.

Air. Lungs. Brain. Without toxicity, he could finally think straight again.

“Well, this was pointless and a waste of our time. Happy now?” Beau huffed with his newfound lung capacity.

But Randy’s brow was furrowed. He was thinking. “Actually, yeah… Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, bunch of narcissistic bullshit. She’s not gonna tell us where Y/N is,” Beau muttered bitterly. If possible, he wished to never converse with that psychotic witch again. There was only so much he could handle before snapping her neck.

“She said that she doesn’t know where Y/N is now,” Randy pointed out. “Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe Y/N’s not in the bunker yet. Turner might keep her somewhere else and wait till he can move her.”

“At sundown,” Beau mused, Diane’s words haunting his mind. “He’ll move her when it’s dark.”

“Which means we still have a couple hours to find her,” Randy finished the thought.

“Popcorn!” Beau yelled down the hallway. The sheriff found himself in better spirits. He hadn’t used a silly name for his most loyal deputy in days, although it ached a tiny bit to say it now. “Any properties in Newton’s name?”

“Yes, sir, several,” Mo replied.

“I need a list of all in the area. Get a team together and search ‘em. One by one,” Beau ordered. “Warehouses, cabins… Take it all apart. I don’t care.”

“And also see if any properties are in Hal Turner’s name and add them to the list,” Randy suggested.

Poppernak shot Beau a look, and only when the latter gave his agreement, did the deputy nod. “Yes, Sheriff Arlen.”

The obnoxiously loud sound of birds woke you from a deep slumber. Groggily, you pried your eyes open and found the first few beams of sunlight warming your face. For a peaceful moment of dazed bliss, you had no clue where you were or how you got here.

There was a thumping, searing pain in your skull, hammering away at your sanity like the ticks of a clock. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tension till you realized you were bound to an old wooden chair, a harsh and creaking surface underneath you. Your behind felt both sore and numb.

Glancing around the room, you noticed you were in the living quarters of a small cabin. A fireplace sat to your right. Above it, a cuckoo clock that showed shortly past noon, and you realized that must’ve produced the bird noise that woke you. The stinging sunlight reached your eyes and filled you with hope.

Hal Turner hadn’t locked you into a bunker yet.

“You’re awake. Good.” Turner entered the room with a bottle of water and a sandwich, throwing the items unceremoniously onto your lap. “You need to eat. We’ll leave soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where they all went,” he said and came up behind you. Turner wasn’t a man of tall stature. Small, middle-aged, nervous. Non-threatening.

Diane’s little ant.

He cut your ties, and you could tell his hands were shaking. They didn’t treat the others like that. Entertaining a victim had never been his job before.

Sedated, dumped, marooned.

That had been the pattern, and you hoped this little off-course adventure would pay off with your freedom. Your gaze drifted down to a lonely brown belt buckle.

Unarmed.

With free hands and Turner still vulnerably behind you, your arms shot up and wrapped around his neck. Fortunately, he wasn’t as heavy as Beau in training when you jolted him forward, jumped up, and rammed his face straight into your knee.

Unconscious for the moment, Turner tumbled to the ground, and you sprinted through the front door. You hoped it would give you enough time to find an exit.

But all you found was a vast sea of trees – towering pines that reached heavenward with no neighboring houses or roads in sight.

There was a shed to your left. Tools. You needed weapons.

And, most of all, you needed more goddamn time to think your way out of this one.

It wasn’t long till you heard the front door of the cabin slam open, heavy and angry footsteps aimlessly searching before they slowly circled closer to the shed.

Fortunately, your little hide-out had proved itself useful – and fully stocked. Turner had arranged his tools in a neatly organized manner. Nothing seemed to be out of place, screwdrivers hanging on the wall from small to big, pliers, drills, hacksaws… Your weapons of choice, however, fell on a hammer and the heaviest, biggest wrench.

Lurking behind the small barn door, you lay in wait till the old door creaked open and Hal Turner walked through. He only blinked at you wide-eyed before your first hit with the wrench landed across his right cheek. It was hard enough for blood to spew out of his mouth, and as he tumbled forward, you delivered your second blow – the hammer, this time, slamming against the back of his head.

Dropping the tools, you decided to take your chances and make a run through the woods for it. You still had a few fleeting hours till dark. If you just kept going, maybe you’d make it to a road or a town somewhere before you froze to death.

What a great outlook…

However, you didn’t even get farther than a few yards from the house before a sharp pain seared from your ankle throughout your entire body. Falling harshly and bracing yourself on the cold, wet leaves, you screamed out and looked down at the culprit – a bear trap.

Well, points for Hufflepuff!

Apparently, you had underestimated Turner. Ahead of you, you also spied some tripwire. Great. This place was a giant death trap – and you had already hated the woods before all of this.

Getting back onto your feet was not only hindered by the giant claws in your flesh but also the iron chain attached to the trap that tethered you to the ground. So, with your freezing hands, you dug out the metal stake that served as your anchor.

Then, the fucking bear trap – you knew this one would hurt like a son of a bitch. Carefully, you inspected the oozing wound, the razor sharp edges deeply clutching your skin at your lower calf and ankle. For a moment, you even swore you could feel the tips of their pointed teeth drilling into your bone. You tried to pry them apart with your hands but gave up on that idea rather quickly once the jaws cut your fingers.

Glancing at the shed, you saw the door was still ajar. It was quiet in there. Either Hal Turner was gone, solely unconscious, or currently bleeding to death. The shed was your Schrödinger’s cat. As long as you didn’t know which one it was, you still had time.

Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes and remembered the trip you took with Beau when you were back in Houston. The two of you drove camping in Piney Woods. For a few days, you were gone and unknown to everyone around you. You could just be you and him. No one had to hide anything. No one had to feel guilty. In those short days, you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Did you know bear traps are actually pretty easy to get out of?” Beau babbles a random fact in his usual manner when neither of you has said anything in a minute. He glances at you, a happy smile on his face as he intertwines his fingers with yours during a stroll through the green and lush forest.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is not panic, get up on your feet, and press your weight down on the springs at the bottom. Just pops open and you can pull your leg out,” he explains with a popping sound, turning the little lesson into a show-and-tell.

“Don’t panic…” you mumbled to yourself and sat up. “Get up…” With a strained groan and your palms supportively on the ground, you heaved yourself to your feet. You winced as you put pressure on your injured leg and, therefore, tried to shift your weight to your good one. The main problem was the next step: “Press down.”

Mentally, you braced yourself before you slowly started to put pressure on the leg again. The jaws moved and wiggled in your flesh, but the pain was too much too bear. You bit down on your tongue as tears strangled your eyes.

Alright, next try.

If slow was too painful, then maybe the bandaid method was the way to go. Quick and painless, as they say. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose as you raised your foot a few inches above ground, making sure the springs would hit the uneven surface properly. Then, you kicked down.

The trap sprung open, you pulled your foot out, and released a primal scream that echoed through the quiet woods, surely disturbing whatever lived there.

And then, suddenly, Hal Turner stood in front of you with a shovel.

Diane’s listed properties came up empty. There was still no sign of you. Turner, on the other hand, had only booked a motel room in his name but hadn’t been seen there in weeks. So, Beau figured he had to be staying somewhere if he wasn’t sleeping in his room.

At four o’clock, the sheriff was close to a breakdown when all leads petered out and the daylight was almost gone. But then Cassie and Denise stormed the station, both out of breath, and brought forth a document that showed a property north of Helena in the name of a Diane Turner. It was a remote cabin in the middle of the woods, which also happened to be close to the location where the ambulance had picked up Randy.

Ding, ding, ding!

Beau gathered the whole cavalry and raced there as fast as he could. By the time he was ten minutes out, the sky had grown dark, the woods pitch-black around him. Switching on the Jeep’s headlights only added to the uneasiness in his stomach. His passenger was quiet next to him, but Beau could tell how worried Randy was by the way his left leg anxiously drummed against the floor mat.

Both of them thought it was too late to save you.

An access road, all dirt, led up behind the cabin, only making it a short hike. Turner’s vehicle had been parked at the fork where it reached pavement. They seemed to be on the right track. After all, if Turner was here, then hopefully so were you.

Beau and Randy were the first to arrive, the cabin inside dark without a single light on, not even a candle burning in the smudged windows. Carefully, the men stepped on the porch, the property around them quiet and undisturbed, but the front door was an inch ajar. Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest.

They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

The floorboards creaked under Beau’s boots as he treaded down the hallway. The cabin was small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and bath. While the men checked each room, Beau already knew you weren’t here anymore – if you’d ever been here to begin with. Maybe Diane had sent them on a wild goose-chase, another sick game created by the mind of psychopath, while you had been locked in a bunker all along, waiting for him to find you.

How much air did you still have left? Would he get to you in time?

“Beau!”

His partner’s voice drew him from the bedroom to the living space, his mind still rattling with the unspoken fear of losing you. His green eyes then focused on the beam of Randy’s flashlight as it shone on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a set of cut plastic ties on the floor next to it. There was also an uneaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of water scattered on the ground.

And then, there were the trails, the little drops, and the sheer pools of blood everywhere that made his gut churn. Was it all yours?

“We need to get forensics here,” Beau said with a thick swallow, already pulling out his phone to call Jenny.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Randy said with a lump in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the little red pond by the tips of his feet. And although it was dark, Beau could see the color drain from his partner’s face.

“I know.” Beau bobbed his head quietly, gently clasping his friend’s shoulder as he held his phone to his ear.

The sheriff then informed Jenny of their findings, telling her to hurry any lab results along. The sooner they knew whose blood it was, the better. As he hung up, he noticed Randy following a trail of blood to the door, leading further outside. He shone his flashlight through the dense foliage before it landed on a little working shed to the right.

As Randy creaked the door of the shed open, with Beau behind him, both thought there was a high probability they’d stumble upon a body in there – if not two.

Instead, the shed was disappointingly empty.

Beau whistled lowly as the light hit the neatly arranged wall of tools. “Well, that’s some freak level organization.”

But Randy’s brow furrowed as his light landed on the ground behind the door. “There’s a hammer and wrench on the ground.” He knelt down to inspect it closer. “Got blood on it. Lot of it.”

Beau chuckled lightly and ran a palm over his face to keep the stinging tears of hope inside, which only confused Randy.

“What’s so funny? Y/N might be dead,” Randy said sourly.

“That’s not Turner’s doing,” Beau argued and gestured at the tools on the ground, his heart flooding with a tiny bit of relief. “Look at the wall. Why would he kill her with tools? It’s way too bloody. Guy like this can’t handle the mess. He had a perfectly fine gun. Would’ve been way cleaner if he wanted to.”

“So, you think this was Y/N?” Randy thought for a moment before nodding. “The ties inside were cut. The food and water on the floor… Maybe he cut her loose and she took advantage of it? I mean, it does sound like her.”

“Yeah…” Beau’s eyes then musingly drifted back to the wall. “Is there a screwdriver on the ground somewhere? There’s one missing here.”

“Nope, nothing on the ground,” Randy replied once his flashlight search was complete. “You think she took it with her?”

“Let’s hope so…”

“But if Y/N managed to overpower Turner, why isn’t she here? And where’s Turner? And if it happened out here, why is there so much blood inside?”

Beau licked his chapped lips, his brow returning to their initially creased position. “Maybe she didn’t take him out for good.”

“You thinkin’ she knocked him out and escaped?”

“Yeah, and then Turner woke up, went back into the house before taking off after her through those woods,” Beau shared his theory. It would explain the vast amounts of blood inside.

“So, your theory is she’s lost and being hunted?” Randy cocked a brow.

Beau only offered him a shrug. “Best possible scenario.”

“Great.” Randy scoffed. “What’s the worst possible scenario then?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think we both know.” Licking his lips, he patted Randy’s shoulder. “But let’s not think about the worst right now. I’ll get a team going to search these woods. We’ll find her. You’re not losing her again, alright?”

Randy could only nod and hope, but a little tug on his heart told him something different as he glanced at his former friend.

“It’s been three hours,” Randy huffed frustratedly as they passed the same street sign to Helena down the mountain once more, driving up and down the roads around the cabin in an endless loop, hoping and praying a miracle would happen. “Don’t you think we would’ve found her by now? If she’s hurt and inside those woods, we should be in there looking for her.”

Beau passed another sigh between his lips. There had been three hours of that, too. Patience was a not only an eight-letter word but a bitch as well.

“Neither of us is any help there. We don’t know those woods. You don’t even a phone, Randy,” Beau said with a bit more firmness in his voice, causing his partner’s frown to deepen. Saved by the bell, Beau’s phone chimed in his pocket with Jenny’s angelic name popping up on the screen. He pulled over on the side of the road before picking up.

“What you got? Uh-huh… You sure? What did they say about the cabin? Okay… Both of ‘em? How far? Which direction? Alright… We’re close. Driving back up there now.”

Randy held his breath till Beau hung up, trying to guess the content of the phone call by the various facial expressions of the sheriff. Then, he asked, “Good news or bad news?”

“Hard to say,” Beau replied, his eyes fixed on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gave himself an encouraging nod, and started the engine, trying to sink every bad theory that surfaced in his mind. “Forensics came back. Our theory was partially correct. The blood inside the cabin was mostly Turner’s.”

Randy raised a brow, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “Mostly?”

“Evidence points to her not escaping. Turner might have gotten to her before she could even leave the property. They found a bear trap with her blood on it,” Beau explained slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Dogs picked up a trail, leading into the woods. Forensics confirmed both of their blood on that trail.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve followed her. She still could’ve escaped,” Randy replied and knew full well it was only sugarcoating the truth swimming in the lower pits of his belly.

“Could’ve…” Beau nodded and swallowed heavily. “But then again, if she did manage to escape, how did her blood end up inside the cabin?”

Defeated, Randy licked his lips, expelling a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, guess my hopes are little too high. I mean, how the hell would you get out of a bear trap?”

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. I’ve spent a lot of time with you…” Randy smacked his lips, fingers tapping his thigh. “You guys went on a trip together?”

Beau’s mouth opened on reflex, but he stopped himself from replying, shooting a scrutinizing look at his partner. “Yeah, uh, just the one, really. Shoulda been more…”

Regrets seeped to the surface. If Beau had known he had only a finite amount of time with you, he would’ve enjoyed and appreciated every last second of it. He should’ve spent less time in his head. He should’ve taken you out on more dates. He should’ve been the best he could be. Instead, he wasted so much time and couldn’t even remember why in retrospect.

“What makes you say that?” Randy’s question rang both with curiosity and pain. His brown eyes stared stubbornly ahead and focused on the dark road.

Beau blew a long sigh. “Well, I wasn’t always the best–,” he hesitated a moment before saying the word, “–boyfriend, I guess.”

If Randy was upset by the term, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he was sticking to Rule #2. He quirked a brow and glanced at Beau in the driver’s seat. “So, on top of stealing my wife, you’re telling me you didn’t even treat her right?”

“Guess so,” Beau admitted quietly, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and ignoring the subtle jab. “And I didn’t treat her badly, by the way. Just could’ve tried harder. Felt guilty because she was your-, well, you know… And the divorce got kinda messy, too. I just wanted to stay clear of complications.”

Exasperated, Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “This is not really making me want to give you my blessing…”

Beau huffed a chuckle. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it’s not. You don’t deserve her.” Randy clicked his tongue, pensively bobbing his head. He then finally admitted, the words sounding almost sour, “Neither do I. You might be as big of an idiot as me.”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise, his focus briefly swaying from the road. “What d’you mean? You guys were perfect together. Is this about what Newton said?”

Randy’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Y/N never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Randy chewed on his lower lip before pushing out the words that had plagued him for three years. “She wanted to leave me.”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. She loved you. You should’ve seen her after she thought you’d died.”

Randy inhaled sharply, his head spinning with regret and heart filling with hope. For the past years, he had wondered if he’d ever get another chance to fix things with you.

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Beau listened and nodded. He remembered the set dinner table, the lovingly prepared food, the candles – it didn’t seem like something one would do if they planned on leaving.

“No, I don’t think she would’ve left you,” Beau noted, although his heart stung when he said it out loud.

“I overheard her asking Carla for a divorce lawyer. Pretty sure she was,” Randy retorted. “Seems silly now. She was already out of my league. I should’ve just given her what she wanted. I don’t even know why I didn’t. I should’ve just shut up and been grateful.”

“That’s what I would’ve told you to do,” Beau muttered, his brain trying to keep track and process everything. Why had you never told him any of this? And more importantly: “Why have you never told me?”

“Guess I was embarrassed.” Randy shrugged. “And I already knew what you would’ve said.”

Secretly amused, Beau cocked a brow. “What? That you’re an idiot?”

“Exactly.”

“And Carla knew?”

“I guess.” Randy gave another shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, they talked all the time. Well, mostly it was Carla complaining about you, but still…”

Beau’s brow furrowed into deep lines. He should’ve been more surprised than he was. The only thing that really baffled him was the fact you had still agreed to date him after hearing all of that. What else didn’t he know?

“I thought they met once a week for book club?”

Randy shot him a pitying look. “Dude, there was no book club. Only three bottles of wine.” He then exhaled a long sigh, stretching back into his seat. “Maybe it’s good she didn’t pick anyone. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” A little offended, Beau raised his brow. “You know, when she came back a few weeks ago, I swore I’d make things right. I wouldn’t let her go this time.”

But Beau broke that promise. He pushed you away to stay clear of complications. His heart twinged.

“And you think she wanted to live in a trailer in the woods of Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would’ve given her anything she wanted. No questions asked,” Beau stated simply. “I was happy when I was with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing.”

“So, what? You planned on marrying her? Kids?”

Beau twitched his shoulders, his eyes not drifting from the street. If he glanced at Randy only for a beat, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s reactions any longer and still remain honest. “We never talked about it, but... If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Don’t even have to think about it. You really were an idiot, you know?”

“I know that. Thank you,” Randy huffed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Still not getting my blessing, though.”

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

“You’re one to talk.” Randy scoffed mockingly. “I met your friend Denise at the station. We had a long chat. She almost talks as much as you. Sounded like you tried to have a say in who Carla should marry. Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“That’s different,” Beau retorted defensively. “We have a kid together. Whoever Carla’s seeing is also gonna be in Emily’s life.”

“So, you don’t even care a little about Carla’s well-being? ‘Cause Denise said you killed her new husband,” Randy countered cleverly.

“Of course I care,” Beau admitted frustratedly. What did Randy want to hear? That he was right about everything? Well, except one thing: “And I didn’t kill Avery, by the way. Might have been slightly responsible for his death, sure, but I didn’t kill the idiot.”

“Seems to be a pattern for you. Maybe Diane was right,” Randy muttered wryly.

Beau licked his lips and sighed. “Listen, I know that devil woman is good at getting into someone’s head, but you gotta believe me, man. I did not leave you to die. If I had known–”

“Whoa, I know,” Randy interrupted him with an amused chuckle and two placating hands. “I was just joking. I knew you didn’t hand me over to the cartel on purpose in some evil ploy to get with my wife. That would be insane.”

Beau gave a nod, accepting his answer with relief. “Well, good.”

“Look, I’m not delusional, contrary to what everyone’s thinking. I know things happened while I was away,” Randy admitted. “I figured she had moved on. For three years, I actually hoped she did. I wanted her to be happy. Just didn’t think it be you, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I kinda knew you always liked her. Just didn’t think any more of it, you know?”

“And there wasn’t more, alright? I promise,” Beau assured him, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He never thought Randy would’ve suspected anything – not that there really ever was anything. But had his tiny crush really been that obvious? “One of those things, you know? Just ‘cause I find Michelle Rodriguez attractive doesn’t mean I seriously expect to date her. I didn’t know it was more than that till I spent some time with her.”

“Good to know,” was all Randy said, crossing his arms with an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “Definitely surprised Y/N likes you, though. She always had a pretty low opinion of you. Said you were doing shitty police work and I should be more careful. Guess she was right..." Beau shot him a darkened look but refrained from taking the bait. Randy pursed his lips. "Look, I know I’m a pain in your ass right now. You’d probably love to get rid of me.”

“Well, hey, that’s not–”

“What, true?” Knowingly, Randy lifted a brow. “I would if I were you.”

Beau only nodded, not admitting out loud the thought had certainly crossed his mind. “So, what are you thinking now?”

“Still want her to be happy,” Randy said quietly.

All of a sudden, Beau then slammed on the brakes, both men jolting forward into their seatbelts. A loud thud echoed through the car as something heavy hit the Jeep’s hood. For a moment, the sheriff thought he’d run into a deer before blinking his eyes at the bloodied and muddied image of Hal Turner.

“What the hell?!”

Turner was in rough shape, pantingly and deliriously stumbling around the car and onto the road, shielding his eyes from the blinding headlights with his palm. Blood dripped from various places from his head and body before Beau’s eyes narrowed on the metal tool stuck inside his neck.

“Guess we found our missing screwdriver,” Randy noted as the two men jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“Where is she, Turner?” Beau prompted sternly, his finger itching to pull the trigger for everything he’d done to you. But knowing where you were was more important than a vendetta. Turner could only speak while he was alive.

And the man seemed to know it, too. Before the sheriff could call for back-up and an ambulance, Turner sneered and raised a hand, gripping the screwdriver tightly.

“No, don’t!”

Beau’s plea came too late. Hal Turner pulled the makeshift weapon out of his throat and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out within seconds.

Randy’s fingers landed on the man’s pulse point. He glanced up at his partner with a shake of his head. “He’s gone.”

Throwing his gun angrily into the rustling brushes, Beau gripped his temples and screamed into the void of the dark woods. Desperation clawed on his mind and heart. The fear of losing you for good took him prisoner. With labored breaths, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed his tired eyes. Turner had been his last lead. He knew more wouldn’t be coming.

What now?

A sanctimonious beep of his phone drew his attention. A small part of him prayed it was Jenny, informing him you’d emerged a few miles up the road – bloody like Turner, but otherwise fine. Alive.

But his green eyes only found an email and darkened at the sender’s name. “Diane just sent me a link.”

Randy, caught in his own spiral, suddenly glanced up. “To what?”

“Livestream.”

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

Another cliffhanger, and it looks like Diane's still having the last laugh 🙈

What did you think of this part? Were you surprised by Randy's revelation? He might've changed his mind on a few things 😉

See ya next week for the freaking finale 🤍

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[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? 💜

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List

If you would like to get notified every time I post a story, feel free to follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don't miss out. 💜

@spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman

@deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @sarahgracej @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007

@beautyvaliant @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @jackles010378

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @my-stories-vault @syrma-sensei @just-levyy

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@k-slla @deanbrainrotwritings @kaleldobrev @alwaystiredandconfused @deans-daydream

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @kmc1989 @just-levyy

@siampie @jessjad @angelbabyyy99 @pieandmonsters @twinkleinadiamondsky

@onlyangel-444 @illicithallways @carpenterswife @cheynovak @kayleighwinchester

[figthoughts]

Not sure if you’ve seen big sky but Beau Arlen is the loml! My husband! And I’d like to think he’s a freakin SIMP! Wondering if you could conjure up a Drabble abt my mans

yessss, i’ve seen big sky and you’re so right!! major simp husband/boyfriend vibes!! i’m so down bad for him ughhh

just posted a lil one shot here !! 18+ ofc

[bluemerakis]

okay but imagine being stuck in a room with beau, dean and soldier boy and how the dynamics would fucking CLASH 😭😭

soldier boy’s gonna be all up in your ass with some shit he thinks is slick—barely giving you room to breathe while he tries to coax you into his bed. beau’s 100% horrified at the shit streaming from sb’s mouth and he’s getting all protective and steps in to make sure he’s backing the fuck off of you and sb’s either gonna give in with some disdainful sniff before continuing to smoke away his loss or he’s going to throw one on beau and the two start brawling to the death. and then dean, who was happily watching the drama unfold, is eventually gonna step in to break up the fight and shove the two apart to take a breather—and while they’re recollecting their dignity, he starts chatting it up with you like he’d been waiting all this time to let the other two guys eliminate themselves as worthy candidates.

and like,,, don’t get me started on the bedroom dynamic either. im gonna though sorry 🤷‍♀️

oh soldier boy is SO MEAN. SO primal. so. fucking. rough. like shoving your head into the sheet rough, vice grip on your neck rough, and spanking you until you’re as red as the fucking commie flag he despises. that man is ALL about establishing control and revelling in the way you fall apart under his touch. manhandling more like. it inflates his dick as much as his ego to hear you plead for things you shouldn’t want—everything that he can give you. and the mouth on him is FILTHY. he’s calling you that fuckin’ slut, that velvety soft cock-warmer, his little, dirty cum-guzzler with a palate refined just for him. oh, he wants to RUIN you. wants to leave you so internally branded with his touch that you’ll morph into a lock that can’t be accessed by any key other than his. and he’s so. fucking. possessive. not to mention he’s going to see you on top of fucking cloud nine as you’re riding him, and he’s DYING to further raise you to the skies of fucking heaven by making you snort a line from his stomach or some shit. corruption kink most definitely.

meanwhile, beau can barely fathom how you’re enjoying any of it. through the entirety of it all, he’s lowkey giving sb the stank eye for his lack of respect for women—and you, more importantly. And while he knows you’ve fully consented, it doesn’t stop him from checking in with you every now and again—

“still hangin’ in there, darlin’? you let me know if it becomes too much, yeah? i’ll tell this jackass to dial it down.”

and beau, oh my god, he’s the king of checking in. he’s all about making sure you’re constantly comfortable and enjoying yourself—to the point where soldier boy’s making some remark like,

“what’re you—some fuckin’ gimme a c for consent cheerleader? shut the fuck up, grown a damn pair, ‘nd give the woman what she wants.”

and beau’s lugging in the DEEPEST breath of composure with the most disconcerting glare he can muster before recollecting himself and focusing all his attention back to you. his thrusts are gentle, but not weak—he’s hitting all the right spots with each approach and withdrawal. he’s listening to your breathing, the sounds you spew, and constantly reaching to brush the hair from the grip of your sticky face. and he lowers himself to place a kiss to whichever inch of you is most accessible at the time—favouring the curve of your cheek, where it’s easy for him to dip down to your ear and murmur some words of admiration and encouragement. oh he’s such a fucking praiser and words of affirmation guy. and he’s making sure to soothe every bruised part of you that soldier boy leaves behind, almost always sparing the supe a pointed glare that utters some silent claim of and that’s how you treat a lady. he’s littering kisses along your bruises and easing the tender skin with soothing rubs—cradling you and cherishing you like an expensive, one-of-a-kind china.

and then there’s dear, dear dean. this man is WAITING for his time to shine. i can 100% see him not caring for either of the other two men in the room—his attention’s all on you. when sb’s taking you all the way to nasty town, he’s glancing off to some other corner of the room, but can’t help sneaking occasional glances at your visceral, very verbal reactions. and he lowkey digs it. when he’s got his turn to make you feel things, he’s taking it nice and slow—all at your pace. and you know those fucking love-sick eyes he loves casting? yeah, HE’S GIVING YOU THE FULL-PACKAGE SUBBY LOOK. his every grip on your body is intentional—constructed to make you feel like you’re something he absolutely adores and cannot let go of. like a sentimental keepsake he’ll hold close to him for all the years to come. he’s observing every look ghosting across your features, savouring the way you absentmindedly caress him in the midst of your euphoria—revelling in the spell you cast that makes him feel like he’s all yours for the taking. he wants to be. and he shows you it. he’s simultaneously got his hand down under, adding to your stimulation with a skillful dally. and he does it all just to hear the sounds you make—the way you beg for more of him. all of him. and he unequivocally wants to hand himself over to you. his high only comes on after he’s seen yours through. if anything, your undoing spurs him on. and he’s planting tender kisses along your collarbone and jaw and making sure you know just how well you did for him.

“that was. . . freakin’ somethin’, baby. you’re amazing—can’t get enough o’ you. don’t ever wanna, so help me god.”

and you KNOW he’s serious if he whips out the name of the big ol’ guy in the sky.

and then when it comes to aftercare, beau takes the fucking cake—i just know it. in an instant, he’s encouraging you to go and use the bathroom to relieve yourself, making sure you’re physically capable of pulling yourself into a semblance of a functioning human when they’re done with you. and he’s offering you any and all assistance you need before recollecting your clothes and fetching a fresh pair—if any are available. he’s getting you an ice cold glass of water, a little shnaky snack and is ready to give you the cuddle of your life.

dean’s pretty content to monitor you coming down from your high, dragging a gentle palm across your hair while his other hand settles in a gentle frame of your jaw, thumb striking gentle lines across the framework of your face. he’s pretty insistent on short cuddles following the aftermath of everything, going so far as to trap you in a spooning session for a good few minutes before he lets you slip away to the bathroom. and even as you stroll off into the distance, he’s trailing after your every move like a lost puppy that doesn’t know how to utilise his free time. he’s so utterly infatuated with you that he’s got to watch everything you’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what. he’s admittedly not the most forward-thinker when it comes to aftercare, but he’s happy to tend to whatever you need AFTER you bring it up. and he’ll learn it like a routine after a while.

soldier boy does not believe in aftercare. oh my god that man is going to cradle a cigarette with more care than he’s ever shown you once he’s delivered you your high. as soon as he’s blown his load, he’ll let you slump down to the bed if only to admire the absolute glistening puddle he’s reduced you to. and he’s going to wear that smug ass cocky grin—even go so far as to chuckle demeaningly as he drinks the view of you in. he could probably get drunk on that visual alone. and then he’s throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, immediately reaching for that bedside cig. he’ll light it, take a long pull, and offer you a taste. at most, he’ll drape a lazy arm around you, but outside of giving his dick a joyride, you essentially stop existing. he’s good at making you feel used, and he’ll watch you clean yourself up without a second thought of lending a helping hand. he might just say some shit about it that he knows will piss you off because he loves getting a rise out of you.

“what’s with all the pussy-pamperin’? thought you’d marvel at havin’ my baby pumped into you.”

oh he’s such an ass. we love him for it though.

OKAY IM DONE NOW. for now

cheers to @bohemianblasphemy for letting me yap about this dynamic AGESSS ago and now i think it’s time to share a taste of it with the world 😭 YOU’RE EITHER ALL FUCKING WELCOME OR IM SORRY!!! i am SO tempted to turn this into a proper fic SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE❗️❗️❗️

i sincerely apologise for the shitty mismatched icons that are lowkey pissing me off but i had zero energy to sift through my pics for ones i haven’t already used and somehow make them match so DEAL WITH IT PLS & THANKS 💪

[lightdancingwords]

Beau Arlen Masterlist

SERIES

Come Find Me Beau Arlen x F!Reader 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? (10/10 - Series Completed)

Second Chances Beau Arlen x F!Reader 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. (In Progress)

MAIN MASTERLIST