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roosterforme · 4 months

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The Younger Kind Part 42 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The retirement party for Admiral Bates is well underway when you and Bradley run into Beau Simpson. He's just one reminder that some things will never change for the two of you. While you're really enjoying the evening out with your boyfriend, it's starting to feel like nobody else wants you to.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

On the way up to the San Diego Botanic Gardens, Bradley held your hand and sang while he drove. Nat was in the backseat humming along with him, and you were simply looking out the window at the ocean and the rocky cliffs along the wilder more rustic beaches north of the city. The sun was setting, and the orange and purple streaks along the horizon cast everything in a dreamy light.

Then you thought about Noah and wondered if you left enough ants on logs for him and Amelia to eat for a bedtime snack. You weren't sure if you got his favorite pajamas out of the dryer before you started getting dressed for the night. "Should I text Amelia and check on Noah?"

Bradley chuckled and glanced at you as he drove. "We just left, Baby. I told her to call me if she needed anything, so I'm sure they're fine."

You tugged gently on his hand. "You texted me all the time when I was Noah's babysitter. Even when you were out on app dates."

Bradley squeezed your thigh through all of the layers of your skirt as he quickly glanced at Nat in his rearview mirror. "I wasn't texting you to check on Noah, because I knew he was perfectly fine in your care. I was texting you because I couldn't focus on whichever woman was right in front of me when I knew you were waiting at home." You smiled as warmth washed through your body. "I was a complete fucking mess on every single one of those dates. Running back home to see if you were sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table. Curious about which color Skittle was touching your lips and tongue. That's why I texted. And that's why you're not my babysitter anymore."

If Natasha could hear your conversation, she was thankfully pretending she couldn't. You brought Bradley's rough hand up to your lips and kissed him. "I'm a complete fucking mess for Noah's daddy." Bradley grabbed your chin and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, and you were shamefully a little turned on while someone else was in the car with you.

After that he dropped his hand back to your thigh, but you could see the flushed shade of pink on his cheeks and knew he was feeling as warm as you were. "I want you to have fun tonight, Princess. I love the way you always think about Noah, but I'm not going to worry about anything at home unless Amelia contacts us, okay?"

You let your head tip back against the seat as you said, "Okay. You're right."

Bradley pulled off of the main road into the parking lot of the beautifully lit up glass greenhouse structure of the gardens as he said, "I'll get a little champagne in your belly, and then you'll be focused on me." He was smiling as he found a parking spot, and you leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Well, this has been lovely, but I'll meet you both inside," Nat announced as she hopped out as soon as the Bronco came to a stop. You watched her yank her black dress up in her hand and walk as quickly as she could across the parking lot in her massively high heels while you laughed.

"She thinks we're gross," you whispered as you crawled onto his lap. You kissed his mustache as you reached for his hat and put it on him. His eyes were soft as he examined your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek. You kissed him again, trying to remember that he was wearing all white while you were wearing dark lipstick. But now it was smudged on his lips and you whimpered softly.

"We are gross," he confirmed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you on his lap. "Now... who are you going to stay with all evening?"

You smirked. "My Daddy."

"Perfect," he replied, stroking the bare skin along your lower back, making you shiver. "Let's go find Mav and Penny and get some champagne."

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Bradley would never get over the fact that you were such a headturner, but with you in your formal dress, things were even worse than the night he took you to the Hard Deck in your worn out jeans. He should have bought you an actual crown to go with your outfit, because it would have matched perfectly with your flawless face and your poised demeanor. It would have made you stand out even more.

The difference tonight was the number of spouses and significant others who were present, and many of them were Bradley's age. As you and he walked inside the sprawling greenhouse enclosure which was filled with orchids, topiaries and rare plants, Bradley felt like he was cast in a spotlight. He kept his arm wrapped around your waist as you chatted away about wanting to see the rare flowers that were supposedly blooming tonight.

"We can check them out," he assured you, fully aware that you were completely oblivious to the women glaring at you and the men smirking at Bradley. "We just need to find the man of the hour and get you a glass of champagne first."

But the crowd of people moving deeper into the greenhouse slowed, so Bradley pulled you closer to him. You went willingly and stood with your chest pressed to his as you looked up at him and smiled. His hands fell to the swell of your hips as you touched all of his pins again. In your high heels, your lips met his neck more easily, and you whispered, "I think I'm the youngest person here," with a little laugh.

"You have no idea, do you?" he asked, taking a few steps forward with the crowd as he guided you along the stone pathway. When you looked up at him, clearly puzzled, he added, "You don't know how people look at you." He brought his fingers up to the smooth strip of skin above your skirt and watched you turn your head and look around the indoor garden as someone started playing the grand piano set off in the corner. Your cheek rested briefly against his white jacket before you looked up at him again.

"People are looking at me," you whispered, poking his hat so it was crooked on his head.

"Mmhmm."

"It's just because I'm younger, and I'm here with a very old man," you said with an innocent expression.

Bradley squeezed your ass and stroked your lips with his thumb as he said, "Blaming it on the age gap is only going to get you so far, Princess. You're beautiful, and people notice."

You grinned up at him and muttered, "You're such a daddy," just as someone in a tuxedo holding a platter of champagne flutes came past. "You're hot, too. That's why there are women looking at us."

Bradley snatched two flutes as he realized that you and he were actually in the line to shake hands with Admiral Bates. He wanted to argue and say that he wasn't the reason anyone took notice, but he could see Warlock and his wife now.

"Okay, Baby," he whispered, handing you a glass. "Make me look good in front of my bosses." And then he noticed that Cyclone and Maverick were there, too. And now Cyclone was looking at you like you were the midnight snack he tried to take home with him from the Hard Deck.

"Oh, it's that guy again," you whispered as you turned to face the front of the line. "The one who bought me drinks at your Navy bar."

"Admiral Simpson." Bradley had to fight the urge to grab at your body and taste your tongue, even though the only thing he wanted to do was make it clear to Admiral Simpson and everyone else that you were with him and him alone. His cock twitched in his dress whites just thinking about parading you around this retirement party with your hair wrecked and your skirt crooked and a fucked out little smile on your face.

He grunted as he laced his fingers with yours, and Cyclone met his eyes. He had to fight to keep his expression neutral as the other man's gaze traveled to your face and dipped down your body, and when he met Bradley's brown eyes again, he smirked. So Bradley smirked, too.

Then you and he were right there in front of the lineup of Maverick, Cyclone, Warlock and his wife. He let go of your hand to salute the others, and then Warlock's wife started to make an absolute fuss over him. But not before he heard what Cyclone said to you.

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You were young, but you weren't stupid, and you didn't appreciate the way most men besides Bradley looked at you. He never stared at your chest instead of your face when talking to you, and he never made you feel uncomfortable. You chalked it up to him being older and more mature than guys your own age. So it was almost laughable when Admiral Simpson, who was at least fifteen years older than your boyfriend, greeted you by saying, "I remember you. From the Hard Deck. You'd be impossible to forget."

As if he'd done anything besides piss you off when he touched your cheek. As if you hadn't pushed his hand away and strolled off with the drinks he insisted upon paying for. You wanted to make a snide remark, you really did. When he shook your hand and asked to be reminded about your name, you wanted to tell him to fuck off. But you knew that Bradley reported to both him and Maverick at work, so you decided to play nice.

You glanced up at Bradley who was sort of glaring at Admiral Simpson even though he was talking to Admiral Bates. You told Simpson your name, and then he gave your hand a little squeeze. "Please, call me Beau."

"Sure," you said cooly, carefully extracting your hand from his. "Beau."

"So, I heard that you're actually Bradshaw's babysitter."

The words made your skin prickle coming from him. "I'm working full time as a nurse now."

He smirked. "Are you still looking for a babysitting job after hours?"

You raised one eyebrow and sipped your champagne before you asked, "Do you have kids?"

"No, none," he replied easily, his steely gray eyes locked on your face. "But I'm sure I could still find something for you to do with your set of skills."

You were torn between throwing your champagne at him and loudly asking him to explain what he meant by that. But you didn't want to waste the drink when there was a delicious looking raspberry waiting for you at the bottom, and you were certain you already knew what he was getting at. So you simply said, "I'm kept very busy all day as a pediatric nurse and all night as Lieutenant Bradshaw's girlfriend. I just don't see how I could fit you in."

You turned away from his smirking lips when Admiral Bates' wife absolutely lit up and asked, "You're a pediatric nurse? That was my career for almost thirty years!" You were blessedly saved from having to talk to Beau any longer as Admiral and Mrs. Bates kindly asked you about your job and didn't treat you like a child. She even said, "I'll absolutely look for you again later tonight. I had no idea Lieutenant Bradshaw was dating a pediatric nurse!"

After you bid them farewell, you realized Bradley and Beau were standing very close together, and your boyfriend did not look happy. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason he didn't enjoy himself tonight. You downed the remainder of your champagne and bit into the perfectly ripe berry before you reached for his hand.

"Come on, Daddy," you said loud enough for Beau to hear as well. "I feel like dancing." With one firm tug, you got him moving away from the other man. "It sounds like there's a DJ in another part of the arboretum," you mused as he came along.

"I heard what he said to you." You looked up to see Bradley's expression was annoyed. "It's always going to be like this. You know that, right?"

You reached for two more champagne glasses as they came parading past you. "Save your berry for me," you instructed Bradly when you handed one to him. "It's my favorite part."

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked, stopping you when you tried to head off toward the louder music.

"Yes, I heard you, Bradley. But you're the one who keeps telling me to ignore it. You tell me it doesn't matter, and that you love me and that I shouldn't let it bother me. So what would you have me do? Ask you to yell at Maverick's boss for being weird?"

He sighed and said, "It's never going to stop. Because you're young and hot."

Now you were getting a little annoyed. "Well, can you live with it or not? And this is a two way street here, because I've had to deal with my fair share of Caseys and Helens. You're hot. You have a sweet little boy and a dog. You have your shit together. You're a man in your thirties, who could have any woman he wants, and it shows. But you told me you want me. And I want you. So Beau Simpson can just stand over there next to the seven foot tall brassavola nodosa orchid and look like an ass for all I really care."

Bradley was gaping at you as you put your hands on your hips and added, "Don't forget to save me your raspberry. Now I said I wanted to dance. Are you coming or should I go find Nat?"

"I'm coming," he whispered.

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Bradley wasn't sure how many glasses of champagne you'd had, but an hour later, you were still dancing with him inside the humid fountain room surrounded by rare ferns and imported shrubs while you giggled. The music was starting to pick up as the night wore on, and after you and he had danced to a handful of slower, romantic songs, a few with faster tempos played in a row.

He kissed your temple and whispered, "Let's take a break."

You scoffed and tightened your arms around him, your breasts pressed to his jacked inside your beaded top. "You're so old," you said, but it came out as more of a whine. "And sexy. And I want to keep dancing with you."

It was that easy for you to keep him on the dancefloor near Maverick and Penny. Even Nat was dancing nearby with Coyote, and Bradley was pretty sure he knew what that meant. "I'll bet you Nat goes home with Javy," he whispered next to your ear.

You gasped and turned to look at them over your shoulder. "Oh, I hope she does. He's so hot."

"Hey," he grumbled, tucking his fingers inside the waistband of your skirt and drawing your attention back to him.

"I mean... ewww, he's way too young! He's like thirty! I hate that."

"That's better." He leaned down to kiss you, and it was just starting to get a little dirty when Maverick cleared his throat.

"Just thought maybe I could cut in for a bit," he said with a smile at you.

"Sure!" you replied, and Bradley left you with his godfather after giving you a soft peck on the cheek. Then he went off in search of Penny at the bar where she was drinking a martini in her pretty blue dress.

"Oh, there you are," she said, flagging down the bartender again for him. "You want a martini?"

"Sure," Bradley replied. He was keeping track of how much he had so he could drive him later. Now he was also going to have to check in with Javy and see how much he'd consumed. "Amelia would text me if there was an issue, right?" he asked Penny.

"I'm sure she would. She probably has Noah in bed by now and is reading one of those horror novels she likes. Either that, or she's playing with the dog."

Bradley nodded and glanced to make sure you were still with Mav. "He really wanted to dance with your future wife," Penny said when Bradley's martini got dropped off.

He groaned. "Mav told you I'm looking at rings? Because I specifically asked him not to."

Penny laughed. "He's terrible at keeping secrets. You should have known better."

"I'll know better for next time," Bradley told her playfully. "And I don't care if she dances with him for the rest of the night, I just need to keep most of these other assholes away from her."

Penny laughed with the rim of her martini glass pressed to her lips. After she took a sip, she said, "I'm not surprised you feel that way. She's sweet and she's young. And while I miss having her living on my street, I'm sure you must be happy she's living with you now. The trip to the lake house was really special, and it's easy to see how much Noah loves her."

Bradley smiled. "She fell in love with Noah before she fell in love with me."

"Anyone would, Bradley."

He and Penny were sipping their martinis when Maverick joined them, and Bradley turned so fast to see where you'd gone. "Seriously, Mav? You left her with Hangman?"

Maverick glanced back as well to watch Jake's hands all over that soft skin above the top of your skirt. Bradley's jaw clenched; nobody else should have access to you there. Even Mav had kept his hands respectfully on the back of your beaded top. And Jake looked handsome tonight. Bradley knew dress whites made any officer at least ten percent more attractive; it was something Nat told him years ago when he got asked out ten times at his promotion banquet.

"She'll be fine," he replied with a shrug, ordering himself a beer. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You asked him barely an hour ago if he could live with this or not. He had assured you he could. But this was Jake. He'd actually managed to kiss you in the middle of Bradley's kitchen. Jake knew what your lipgloss tasted like. "Fuck," Bradley grunted when Jake met his gaze. Because now he was smiling like the cat who got the cream while he let his hands drift a little further south toward your ass.

You were talking to him, about what, Bradley had no idea. Then you reached for his hands and guided them back up to your waist while Jake gave you the most distressingly fake innocent look he could muster up. When you glanced Bradley's way, you rolled your eyes before turning back to Jake, but when that song ended, you came over to the bar. Before you even made it all the way to him, Bradley secured you a glass of champagne with a raspberry.

"Princess," he said, handing it to you. "Did you have fun with Jake?"

"Not particularly," you said blandly, but Bradley could tell you were ready to laugh. "He invited me to the charity air show next month that he's flying in. Claimed he's donating five thousand dollars to the children's hospital and asked if I'd want to go since I work with kids. He also stressed that it wouldn't be a date, and that I would get to tour the hospital with him."

Bradley chuckled. He'd thrown his name on the list of volunteers as well, and he knew for a fact the selections hadn't even been made yet. "That's wishful thinking on his part." Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek. "Do you want to go on a tour of the children's hospital?"

"Kind of," you said with a shrug while you gulped down your champagne just to get to the raspberry which made him smile. "But not with Jake. Obviously."

He tucked his fingers under your chin so you were looking at him. "Do you want to go with me if I get to fly in the air show?"

Your face let up. "Of course! I didn't want to say anything, but the whole day sounded pretty great, actually. Can you fly in it, too?"

"I'll see what I can do," Bradley said softly, looking across the crowded room and past the fountain to where Cyclone and Warlock were chatting. As much as he didn't want to, he could ask Warlock on one of his last days at work to push his name to the top if possible. And he'd rather choke on one of the raspberries, but he could feasibly ask Cyclone.

Bradley watched you pluck another glass of champagne from a passing tray before leaving your empty one on the bar. "Baby, how many have you had?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not as many as Natasha," you replied, nodding to where she and Javy were making out in the middle of the dancing couples. Actually, a lot of Bradley's colleagues were pretty drunk now. Even Maverick had rosy cheeks and a bit of extra swagger in his step.

Bradley set his empty martini glass down, already knowing that was his last drink for the night. Your eyes lit up as you finished yet another glass of champagne, and Bradley recognized the remix of the song as one from the kid friendly playlist you made for Noah. You shook the raspberry into your mouth and chewed it up before you kissed him.

"Dance with me," you demanded, and Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist and led you out to where everyone was bouncing around. The lights had been dimmed, and the fountain in the background was illuminated now. You danced wildly in his arms, and Bradley knew you were probably going to have a hangover tomorrow. When you spun around as you sang along, your ass grinding against him, Bradey leaned in close and kissed your neck.

"I love you, Baby," he said over the music as he ran his hands along any bare skin he could find. You responded by grinding a little harder against him, so he knew you heard him. He licked the shell of your ear and kissed you there as the song came to an end.

"I love you too, Daddy," you told him, kissing him solidly on the lips. "I think I'll have one more glass of champagne."

He was not convinced that was a good idea, but he took you back to the bar anyway. And now everyone was over here including Nat and Javy who looked very cozy together. You had another champagne flute in your hand when he asked Nat, "You're not going to need a ride home from me, are you?"

She smirked and shrugged at him. "Doesn't look that way."

"How long has this been going on this time?" he asked as you tugged on his arm.

"Daddy, can I have your wallet?" you asked loudly in front of everyone accumulated at the bar. Javy gaped at Bradley while Mav and Penny tried not to laugh. Nat was ready to gag just like she was every time she heard you call him that. You were probably a little drunk, but you probably also didn't care who heard you. Bradley pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to you, and you kissed his cheek and walked away with it.

"I feel like I should be concerned," he muttered to himself.

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You were quite tipsy now, and everything seemed like a good idea. Once you secured Bradley's wallet, you giggled as you went off to find that one guy carrying around the champagne who looked about your age. When you located him, you smiled and waved him down.

He looked like he was going to drop his entire tray as he eagerly asked, "How can I help you?"

Then you told him your name and said, "I was hoping you could do me a favor."

"Anything," he said quickly, and you couldn't help but laugh which made him smile. You probably didn't even need the wallet after all, but you took out fifty bucks and pointed across the room. "You see that guy standing over there in the dress whites?" You knew that didn't really narrow it down in this crowd, but luckily at the moment Beau Simpson was mostly surrounded by women and men in gowns and suits.

"Yes."

"Any chance you can go to the bar, get a glass of top shelf bourbon and take it to him?"

He shrugged and said, "Sure."

Then you handed him the fifty and said, "Please make sure you tell him it's from Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and his girlfriend."

"Done," he replied, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of making some easy money.

As he walked away, you smiled to yourself and strolled back to Bradley. He seemed to be arguing with Natasha about something, so you carefully tucked his wallet into his pocket. He turned to face you, and you kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll be back after I use the ladies' room."

"Don't take too long," he told you, patting your butt before returning to his conversation with his best friend.

You nearly tripped when you saw Admiral Beau Simpson being delivered his glass of bourbon, and it seemed to do what you had hoped it would. He was laughing as he searched the crowd, and then he took a sip of it with an appreciative look on his face before joining Admiral Bates in conversation. You were practically cackling as you made your way to the restroom with your poofy skirt billowing around you.

Tonight you really felt like a princess, and when you checked yourself in the ladies' room mirror, you were delighted to see that the makeup job Natasha did still looked really good. You clicked across the marble floor in your heels and tucked yourself in one of the stalls. Very carefully you bunched your skirt up, and just as you finished and flushed the toilet, you heard the main door open, and a few voices echoed through the room.

"She's way too young for him," said one woman, and you tried your best to keep your skirt bunched up as you peeked through the slit between the stall door and the wall. She was kind of pretty; she kind of looked like an older version of you. "Whoever she is, she looks like she's about twenty. Her purple dress is pretty though."

You froze, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

"He's just having his midlife crises a few years early. All men have one," another woman, this one with red hair, told the first one. You were nearly certain they were talking about you and Bradley, and you had to keep bunching your skirt up so they wouldn't see it under the stall door. "But he's got a kid, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," replied a third woman with black hair, who was fixing her makeup. "He's a cute little thing. Rooster brought him to base a few times."

Your heart was pounding as you stood there and listened to someone you'd never even seen before talk about how cute Noah was. You couldn't decide if you wanted to scream or cry as she said, "He'll snap out of it soon when he realizes he can do better. I'm sure she's got nothing to offer other than being young and eager. He'll get tired of that soon enough."

The first woman laughed merrily as tears stung your eyes. You were standing in a bathroom stall holding the bunched up skirt of the formal dress Bradley bought for you while three women you didn't even know trashed you for no good reason.

Then the second woman said, "She wasn't even with him when we passed him on our way here."

"Yeah, it's probably past her curfew."

Now all three of them laughed as your lip quivered.

You watched the first woman wiggle the top of her dress a little lower as she fixed her cleavage. "Listen, he looks hot in his dress whites. If she's not there when we go back out, I'm going to accidentally bump into him."

"No, you're not!" came one reply.

"I dare you," came the other.

You let the fabric fall from your hands as you squared your shoulders. They were talking about Bradley. They were talking about Noah. They were talking about you and your family. You were tired of being treated like you were a fucking joke. Then you unlatched the stall door and were met with three pairs of surprised eyes.

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Who do they even think they are? And Bradley better fly in the air show, because I want Princess to get to visit the children's hospital. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 43

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essektheylyss · 8 months

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Honestly it's so funny that Caleb told Essek, "Once you're a part of the Mighty Nein, you're in; you of all people should know that by now," and then like a week later Essek tried to give this whole noble speech about "I hope one day our paths may cross again," as if this was some long goodbye, and dip.

Sir, what was the game plan. You couldn't even avoid these assholes when you were desperately, anxiously trying to. Yasha has been attempting to impress upon you that she tried to fuck off on her own to atone for her sins and it didn't work since you all had dinner. Beau actually said you were a good person, which is unheard of. Caleb is only not making out with you right here because he's not going to be that asshole who tries to tempt you into going back to a city where you would be executed on sight. They are sending you to crash on their unhinged friend's couch and they will not take no for an answer. Jester doesn't care if you'd welcome her messages at any point because she will be sending them, and there is literally nothing you can do to stop her.

How else did you think this was gonna go. Boy, I know you have 22 intelligence but by the light you are fucking dense.

#to be clear he's so valid and this was very in character but yeesh the wisdom score does NOT measure up lmfao #I love him. baby. baby boy.#critical role #essek thelyss

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zepskies · 1 month

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Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six.

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile.

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled.

“It’s okay,” you said.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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#It's Not Right But It's Okay #Take Me Home #Part 2 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #beau arlen x you #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

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rdr2gifs · 2 months

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I often wonder what sets Arthur apart and makes him particularly appealing to me compared to other characters (in general). One significant factor lies in how he perceives and interacts with women. Arthur views women as equals, rejecting any notion that he is superior because they often do tasks traditionally associated with women, such as laundry and other chores.

He also never doubts capabilities of women like Sadie, who perform tasks usually associated with men. It's essential to note that one of Arthur's initial scenes with Sadie may be misinterpreted, as Sadie herself belittles the work of other women, not Arthur.

Arthur maintains healthy relationships with the female gang members, with none of them serving as a love interest. He sees men and women as equal, believing everyone should be able to walk their own path in life. He treats women with respect and he doesn’t expect any reward for his behaviour (sadly this is how many men seem to think even in the current time). He doesn’t see women in the gang as a cover (Dutch) nor like a liability (Micah). He sees them as people and valuable members of the gang.

Even in situations where he has to help women, he never considers them any less capable nor downplays their abilities.

Arthur's respect for women is also shown in his interactions with individuals outside the gang, such as the circus lady and the rich widow. After the circus lady thanks him for his help, he’s quick to say she would’ve been able to do it without him. He encourages her to pursue her dream in a so far male-dominated industry. He doesn’t look down on the widow, who doesn’t know anything about survival. He doesn’t tell her to go back to the city where she came from. He tries to teach her in a natural and encouraging way, never acting as if he was better than her because he has more experience. He patiently teaches her without any condescension.

He initially doesn’t understand why Beau even tries to stop Penelope from participating in the women's rights march. I like to think this is because he thinks everyone should be able to fight for their cause/what they believe is right. Not to mention he very much enjoyed riding with these ladies and wrote about his experience with fondness.

Arthur's journal entries reveal his disapproval of mistreating women, recognizing the injustice in an era when women had limited autonomy. “He treats his daughter like a possession to be mistreated and abused as he sees fit. Strange creatures men.” It was definitely not common for men in this time to be thinking about women's autonomy.

I don’t want to praise Arthur for things that should be considered the bare minimum but these qualities definitely add more to his likability. And it’s great to see where your favorite character stands on important things like this.

⚘ While acknowledging that Arthur's antagonistic lines may be interpreted as sexist, it's important to consider them as optional elements mostly implemented to make 13 years old boys feel edgy.

#analysis? sort of #thank you for reading #please try to not take this post as me saying john doesn't respect women or that arthur is somehow better than him #i am an arthur fan first and foremost and i'm only interested in writing about him #i don't feel the need to bring one character down to highlight the traits of another ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #don't even mention the ''i didn't know i was talking to a lady'' scene #to somehow prove ''arthur doesn't respect women''#she disrespected him first totally unprovoked for no reason #my gifs #it was totally deserved #rdr2 gifs #text post

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fatecantstopme · 11 months

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The Connection

Pairing: Elliot Stabler x reader

Summary: Elliot Stabler is your best friend and has been for years. When he and Kathy get divorced, you let yourself wonder what it would be like to be with him...despite your current relationship status. Elliot's jealously will either bring you together or tear you apart.

Warnings: Divorce. Panic Attack. Gun shot wounds. Mentions of death. Hospital. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex (P in V)

It had been eight months since Elliot and Kathy had divorced. Eight months Elliot had spent alone, trying to figure out what the hell to do next. Eight months of trying to find the words to say and eight months of failing to.

The first couple months after Elliot's divorce, you thought about telling him how you felt--how you'd felt for years. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it every single day since the moment he told you they were getting divorced.

Your fear of losing your best friend was what stopped you from ever admitting your feelings. You couldn't bear to face that possibility. You’d rather have him as just your friend than nothing at all.

But everything changed for you when you met a handsome stranger just outside your favorite coffee shop on your way to work. Tony, as you would later learn, was an emergency room doctor at Mercy Hospital. He had just recently moved to the city after finishing his residency at a hospital in Chicago.

Before long, you and Tony were inseparable. He was kind, charming, and funny--and he treated you better than any man ever had. You were content, happy even, despite the little voice in the back of your mind. The voice that reminded you of how much you loved Elliot--how much you needed him.

That voice was always strongest when you were together, which meant you started to pull away from him--spending more time with Tony and less with Elliot. Even though the two of you worked together and saw each other nearly every day, you tended to stay in your office and avoid too much actual contact with him if you could.

You felt badly about the distance you'd created, but you didn't know what else to do. If Elliot felt the same way, he'd never even hinted at it, let alone expressed it, so you felt the point was moot. Why put yourself through the pain of rejection if you didn't have to? Plus, you had Tony now. Focusing on your relationship with him had to be your priority.

Elliot was no fool. He watched you pull away from him after you met Tony—and he thought he knew why. He couldn’t stand to hear you talk about him—didn’t want to imagine you with someone else. Someone other than him. He had no right to feel that way and he knew it, but there are just some things you can’t control.

You’d been with Tony for 6 months when Elliot finally reached his breaking point. The two of you, along with Olivia, Munch, and Fin, were in the squad room after a particularly stressful case. You were chatting with Olivia about her latest beau and she inquired about Tony. You told her you had been canceling dinner plans with him for the last week due to your case load, but you were planning on seeing him tonight.

“He’s perfect for you, (Y/N),” Olivia said with a smile. “You always light up when you talk about him.”

You offered her a small smile in return. “He really is amazing.” You leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I think he’s been shopping for rings.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “How long’s it been?”

“6 months,” you answered.

“Damn. That’s fast.” She shrugged, “but if you know, then you know.”

You opened your mouth to tell her that you didn’t know, but Elliot beat you to it. “Jesus, (Y/L/N), I didn’t expect you to just marry the first guy who jumped in your bed. When did you turn into such a needy slut?”

Your face paled and you stepped back as if he’d slapped you. He knew you well enough to know exactly what to say to hurt you and he didn’t pull his punches.

“What the hell, Elliot?” Olivia snapped.

Elliot avoided making eye contact with you—immediately regretting his outburst. He wasn’t one to apologize, and to be honest, he wasn’t very good at it, but he felt the strong urge to beg for your forgiveness.

“I shouldn’t've—“ he started.

“Leave it,” you cut in. “Whatever it is you were about to say, just don’t.” You grabbed your coat and your bag before turning back in his direction. “I’m going to dinner with a man who treats me with respect and genuinely cares about me. I would think you of all people would be happy for me.” You paused. “I know you're tired and stressed, but you don't have the right to take it out on me. I'm your friend, Elliot, although given what you just said to me, I'm not even sure about that."

With that, you walked out the door, never slowing or sparing a glance behind you.

Elliot felt terrible in more ways than one as he watched you leave. He could feel the gazes of his friends, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. “I’m going home,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, maybe you should get some sleep before you insult anyone else,” Fin said none too gently.

In any other situation, Elliot would have clapped back, but the fact that he'd just hurt you like that made him keep his mouth shut. He threw on his coat and stormed out of the precinct before anyone else could speak.

The entire way home, Elliot was fuming. He was mad at himself, mad at Tony, but most of all he was mad at you. Mad that you found someone who fit you so perfectly. Mad that you wanted someone else. Mad that you were happy. God help him--he felt terrible for it--hated himself, even. What kind of person felt this way about their best friend? Wasn't he supposed to be your number one supporter? Your biggest champion?

He was filled with regret as he entered his small apartment. It was mostly empty and completely devoid of personality. He had pictures of his kids, but not much else.

There was, however, one particularly special picture in the living room. He walked over to it and picked up the frame, his heart clenching as he stared at it. It was a picture of you and him on a random Saturday. He'd dragged you to the park for an early morning run, which he knew you hated. You'd gotten your revenge by pushing him into a pond beside the running path.

After you'd stopped laughing, you tried to help him out of the water, but he pulled you in with him, leaving you both soaking wet and laughing hysterically. When you made it back to dry land, you'd dragged him close and snapped a picture of the two of you--muddy, wet, and laughing.

The picture really showcased your personality--light, bubbly, happy, and just a bit goofy. It was his favorite picture and one of his favorite moments with you...it was the moment he realized he loved you. A feeling he'd never expressed, even though he'd felt it long before he and Kathy solidified their divorce.

It was almost two years later and he still hadn't told you how he felt. And now that he was a free man--and had been for a while--you'd found the man of your dreams. He'd managed to blow his chance to be with you and now it was too late.

The picture suddenly became blurry and he sat it back down on the table before wiping his eyes. He wasn't good with emotions and he was thankful no one was there to witness this particular display.

He tried to push all thoughts of you from his mind as he wandered around his kitchen, scrounging up something to eat. He tried not to picture you at dinner with Tony. He tried not to imagine what you would do after dinner. He tried not to think about anything at all...but no matter what he did, you plagued his mind from the moment you'd walked out the door. He decided to go out to a bar and get himself a drink or two. It was Friday after all and he'd had a long week. Why not blow off some steam?

You weren't in the best of moods when you met Tony for dinner that night. Elliot's words echoed in your ears and the feeling of hurt had yet to dissipate. He'd never lashed out at you like that before. Not once. You'd heard him do it to other people, especially when he was angry or frustrated--but he'd never done it to you. You weren't sure what it meant now that he had, but you were certain it wasn't good.

Tony picked up on your mood immediately and he was obviously concerned. He'd asked if you were alright, if you wanted to reschedule...but you'd told him it had just been a long week and not to worry.

"You seem distracted, (Y/N)," Tony commented gently. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You looked up from the food you'd been playing with on your plate and sighed. "Sorry, Tony. I've got a lot on my mind."

He nodded. You could tell he wanted to probe deeper, but he wisely opted to back off. He started to chatter about some new resident at the hospital, complaining about how green the kid was, and your mind began to drift.

You knew you should have been paying attention, but you really couldn't find the energy to--or perhaps desire was the better word. All you could think about was Elliot. When had everything gone so wrong? How did it all become so fucked up? Why did you care so much? He clearly didn't.

A single tear slid down your cheek and dropped onto your plate, surprising you out of your thoughts. You hadn't realized you'd been crying until that moment. You quickly wiped your eyes, hoping Tony wouldn't notice. When you glanced up at him, you knew he'd seen and you could tell he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

The problem was, you weren't even sure what was happening. Why did you feel so damn sad? As you stared at Tony, you realized there was only one person you wanted to talk to about it...and it wasn't the man in front of you. You were hurting and you only wanted the man who'd hurt you. How fucked up was that?

"Seriously, babe, what's going on?" Tony asked gently, concern lacing his voice.

You shook your head. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Okay...I wouldn't normally push, but you were literally just crying into your pasta."

"I'm aware, Anthony," you said rather harshly.

He winced slightly and you sighed sadly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap," you said softly.

"It's okay."

There was something about the placating tone of his voice that just set you off. "No it's not! None of this is okay! I'm not okay!"

He was clearly taken aback by the intensity of your outburst and you found yourself feeling incredibly embarrassed...and perhaps a bit annoyed.

"I just--I just wanna go home," you mumbled.

"Okay," he said gently. "Why don't you go wait in the car. I'll pay the bill."

He handed you the keys and you practically ran out of the restaurant. You couldn't explain what you were feeling--it was like you were suffocating, like the very air you were breathing was toxic. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and everything just felt wrong. Your vision started to darken and you felt like you were being crushed...you fell to your knees on the sidewalk, body shaking as you started to hyperventilate.

Moments later, Tony came rushing out and dropped to his knees beside you. You could hear him asking you what was wrong, but you couldn't answer him. You hadn't recognized the signs at first, but somewhere inside you, you knew you were having a panic attack. You couldn't explain why and you certainly couldn't tell him what was happening.

You heard Tony say something about an ambulance, but your brain was too foggy to comprehend what was happening. You'd had panic attacks all your life, but this one felt different--it came on even more suddenly and it was more intense than any attack you'd ever had before. Something about it felt final...deadly.

You heard the sounds of sirens in the distance, and at first you thought they were headed for you, but they never seemed to move any closer. Your vision was almost black, your head was pounding, and you felt as if your body was full of lead--you knew you were moments away from passing out. The last thing you heard was the ringing of a cellphone in close proximity to you. Just as you realized the phone was yours, you succumbed to the blackness of unconsciousness.

A couple blocks away, an ambulance and several police officers were responding to a call for shots fired at a local bar. According to the call, one man was dead, one was critically injured, and four more were wounded.

Witnesses said a man had opened fire inside the bar after an argument had escalated. After the first few shots rang out, another man had gotten up from his seat, pulled out his gun, and identified himself as police. The first gunman pulled the trigger twice, shooting the police officer twice in the chest. As he was falling to the ground, he pulled his own trigger, killing the gunman almost instantly with a shot directly to the heart.

The officer laid on the ground, blood seeping from his wounds, terror gripping his body. His only thought was of his family, and how he would never get to see them again.

He could hear voices all around him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and he was beginning to feel cold. He knew what that meant, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He heard the scream of sirens followed by the sound of footsteps near him. He heard a man's voice ask a question, but he didn't hear the response.

He heard snippets of what was said, "Gun," "argument," "scared,"...but the one that caught his attention was "Benson." He didn't understand why someone had said his partner's name and he tried to ask, but his voice came out as nothing but incoherent sounds.

The sound of more sirens neared and he began to drift towards sleep or death...he wasn't sure which one. His eyes had closed and his body felt heavy as he took what he feared would be his last few breaths.

"Detective Benson," Olivia answered on the second ring.

"Hi, Detective. This is Officer Bailey."

"Hey, Bailey. You got a case for me?"

"Not exactly, ma'am..." he paused. "It's your partner. Detective Stabler?"

Olivia felt her blood go cold. "What about him?"

"He was involved in an incident at O'Malley's Bar on 5th," Bailey said slowly. "Bar fight turned deadly. Apparently, Detective Stabler shot the gunman."

She inhaled sharply. "Is he alright?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line that told Olivia everything she needed to know. "How bad is it?" she asked softly.

"It's bad, detective. They're taking him to Mercy Hospital. You should probably go there."

Olivia's first thought was of Elliot's kids--she needed to call them when she had more information. She didn't want to scare them if she didn't need to. "Thanks for the call. I'm heading over there now."

She hung up, grabbed her keys and her coat, then ran out the door. She intended to drive with lights and sirens to get there--policy be damned.

When she got to the first floor of her apartment building, it suddenly hit her that she should call you. Even after his comments earlier that day, Elliot was still your best friend. You'd want to know if something happened to him and you'd be beyond pissed if Olivia didn't tell you right away.

She called your phone several times as she drove to the hospital, each time leaving a voicemail begging you to call her back.

She was thankful she lived so close to the hospital and she made it there in record time. She pulled up to the emergency room entrance just as an ambulance pulled up to the front doors.

Olivia quickly got out of her car and jogged towards the entrance, but she stepped aside as EMS rushed someone through the doors. Olivia's face paled as she got a good look at the person on the gurney--you.

She ran in after them, practically running right into Tony as he came in. Olivia recognized him immediately. "What the hell happened?" she asked in a rush.

Tony looked over at her in surprise, as if he was just realizing she was there. A look of recognition crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced with confusion. "She, uh--I don't know. She collapsed outside the restaurant." He eyed her carefully. "What are you doing here?"

"Elliot was involved in some sort of altercation at a bar. They brought him here, so I came down to figure out what the hell happened."

Tony looked shocked. "When?"

"About 15 minutes ago."

Tony's face paled. "That's right about when (Y/N) collapsed..."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What are the odds of that?"

He shook his head. "I'm gonna say extremely unlikely."

She sighed and shook her head too. "I need to check in with the front desk and see what they know."

The ladies at the front desk informed Olivia that Elliot had received two GSWs to the chest and was currently in surgery. They promised to keep her updated and let her know if anything changed. She also asked them to keep her updated on your status as well. It didn't seem likely that the two incidents were connected, but she had to admit it was really damn weird.

Olivia joined Tony in the waiting room and made several phone calls to Elliot's kids and the rest of her team. She wanted to make sure they all knew what was going on. The kids were out of town with Kathy, but Fin, Munch, and Cragen all promised to come down to the hospital immediately.

When they arrived, the five of them sat in the waiting room in silence. None of them knew what to say.

About an hour after the others had arrived, a nurse came into the waiting room. "(Y/L/N)?" she called.

Tony looked up at the sound of your name. He jumped out of his seat and walked towards the nurse. "Is she okay?" he asked urgently.

The nurse nodded. "She's awake and asking for someone named Elliot."

Olivia made eye contact with Fin, who was sitting across from her. He shared her knowing glance before they both looked in Tony's direction.

"Oh, um...I'm her boyfriend. Would I be able to see her?"

The nurse nodded again. "Sure, Dr. Cooper. She's in 103."

Tony immediately headed towards your room without waiting for the nurse to follow. Olivia got up and walked over to the nurse before she could walk away. "Excuse me," she called.

The nurse turned back to her. "Yes?"

"You said (Y/N) was asking for Elliot?"

She nodded. "You know him?"

Olivia nodded her affirmation. "He's my partner. He was brought in about 2 hours ago for GSWs to the chest. I believe he's in surgery right now."

The nurse paled. "Dr. (Y/L/N) didn't have any noticeable injuries. Was she there when he was shot?"

Olivia shook her head. "She was a couple blocks away. We're not sure what happened to her."

"The doctor said it was probably an intense panic attack, based on the symptoms Dr. (Y/L/N) described."

Olivia was a little surprised, but she didn't say it. "Thank you."

The nurse nodded and headed back into the patient area. Olivia returned to her coworkers and shared the information she'd just received.

"A panic attack?" Fin asked in surprise.

Olivia nodded. "That's what the nurse said."

"At the same time Elliot got shot?" Munch asked.

"Roughly, yeah." Olivia confirmed.

"What the hell are the odds of that?" Cragen asked.

"I'd say a million to one," Munch answered.

"At least she's gonna be okay," Fin said softly.

They all nodded their agreement. No one wanted to mention their fears about Elliot's survival...they just had to hope he would pull through.

You'd been surprised to find yourself in the hospital when you awoke, but you quickly realized the intensity of your panic attack must have literally knocked you out. Tony wouldn't have known what was happening, so of course he called 911.

You checked your phone as soon as you woke up and discovered you had several missed calls and messages from Olivia. You listened to the most recent one and felt the blood drain from your face.

"(Y/N), please answer your phone! I'm getting worried. Elliot's been in some sort of altercation and it's bad. I don't know what's going on, but I'm on my way to the hospital. Please call me." Olivia's voice sounded panicked, so you knew it must be really bad.

You pressed your call button and the moment a nurse walked into the room you asked for Elliot. The nurse told you she didn't know who that was, but she said she'd go out to the waiting room to see.

Much to your dismay, the person who walked into your room 5 minutes later, was Tony. You felt terrible for feeling that way, but not seeing Elliot standing in your doorway confirmed your worst fears.

"Elliot?" you whispered, the meaning of your question very clear.

Tony sighed as he came to the side of your bed. "He's in surgery," he said gently.

Your skin was already pale, but you turned white as a sheet upon hearing those words. "What happened?"

"He was shot twice in the chest. Some guy shot several people during a bar fight and Elliot stopped him."

"How bad is it?" You didn't really wanna ask, but Tony was an ER doctor after all...he would know and he wouldn't lie to you.

His expression was sad. "It's bad, (Y/N/N)," he said honestly. "It's really bad."

You couldn't stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks. You didn't want to ask more questions--didn't really wanna know--but you needed to. "What are the odds?"

Tony shook his head, not wanting to upset you further.

"Anthony, please," you begged.

He sighed. "He might not make it through surgery, but even if he does, the chances of survival are slim. He lost a lot of blood and there was internal damage from the bullets."

You closed your eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Where's Olivia?" you whispered.

"She's out in the waiting room. Want me to get her?"

"Please," you said so softly he barely heard you.

A few minutes later, Tony reappeared in the doorway with a distraught Olivia. She pushed past him and into your room, quickly crossing the short distance to your bedside. Tony backed out of the room and out of sight.

"How are you feeling?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," you answered. "I don't understand how this could happen."

Olivia knew what you meant, but she didn't have a good answer for you. Elliot didn't frequent bars alone, nor was he the type to get into any kind of bar fight. But honestly, what really bothered her was the timing of your panic attack. "Why did you have a panic attack?"

You looked at her in surprise. "I--I don't really know. It just came on suddenly."

"Right when Elliot was in trouble? That just seems...odd."

"I can't explain it. I was outside waiting for Tony to pay the bill and it hit me. I was on my knees, unable to breathe, in mere seconds."

"You know I'm not a superstitious person and I don't really believe in any of that mystical stuff, but if I did...I'd say you felt something happen to him and that's why you had the attack."

You wouldn't classify yourself as some kind of mystic either, but you were a psychologist. You'd spent years studying the human mind, and nothing about it made complete sense. The brain is the most complex part of human anatomy...so complex, in fact, that we may never fully understand it.

"I suppose it's possible," you began slowly. "We know there are examples of minds being connected in inexplicable ways, the best example being that of twins. Twins claim to be able to sense each other and understand each other in ways the rest of us could never really understand. Twins a 1,000 miles away from each other claim to know the exact moment their twin died. Some people claim to have similar bonds with siblings and significant others. So while it seems unlikely, it is entirely plausible that such a connection could be formed between two people."

"If anyone was to have a connection like that, it would be you and Elliot."

"What makes you say that?"

Olivia gave you a knowing look, one you'd seen on her face countless times before...just never directed at you. "I might not be a profiler, (Y/N), but I'm not an idiot. It doesn't take a good detective to know that the bond between you and Elliot is different--special."

"He's my best friend," you conceded, although you knew that was not what she meant.

"This goes way beyond friendship," she said simply.

She didn't elaborate and you didn't need her to. Some part of you knew she was right, or at least suspected it. But if her idea of this connection was accurate--and your interpretation of the meaning was accurate--then didn't that imply your feelings were not one-sided?

You weren't sure if you were ready to admit it, but this revelation changed everything for you. In that moment, you decided if Elliot survived this, you would tell him how you feel...consequences be damned.

**********

Two weeks went by without much change or improvement in Elliot's status. He'd made it through surgery, but he'd been in a coma ever since. The doctors weren't quite sure why...there didn't appear to be a medical cause.

You visited Elliot every single day, sometimes spending hours at his bedside talking to him. If there was even the slightest chance he could hear you, it was worth it.

That first night in the hospital had changed a lot of things for you, and it made you realize you couldn't keep pretending anymore. You broke things off with Tony, unable to lead him on any longer. He was surprisingly understanding about it, despite the obvious hurt.

The rest of the squad would stop by periodically to check in on Elliot and to see how you were holding up. You'd come back to work right away, but you'd made yourself as scarce as possible. You weren't ready to face the possibility that Elliot may never wake up, even if your coworkers were.

It was week three of Elliot's coma when you were called to testify in court for an SVU case. It wasn't a case you wanted to relive, but you'd played a vital roll in identifying the offender and your testimony was crucial.

You'd testified for a day and a half before you were finally released from court. Having done your duty, you pulled out your phone to check your messages. You were surprised to see several missed calls--all from Olivia.

Your heart clenched in your chest and terror froze your body in place. You weren't sure you wanted to listen to the message she'd left...you wanted to live in this moment just a while longer. In this moment, in this world, Elliot was still alive, but if you listened to that voicemail, that world might shatter.

You forced your body to move, making your way to a more secluded part of the courthouse before taking a deep breath and pressing 'play' on the voicemail.

"I know you're in court, but I wanted to make sure you heard this as soon as you finished up. We're all at the hospital--Elliot's awake!"

You didn't listen to the rest of the message--nothing else mattered. All you heard was "Elliot's awake!" and you were already running towards the exit. You ran at top speed all the way out of the building and to your car, pushing past anyone who got in the way.

When you reached your car, you jumped in the driver's seat and took off, ignoring almost every single traffic law in existence. All that mattered was getting to the hospital--all that mattered was Elliot.

After parking your car, you raced into the hospital and into the elevator, angrily pressing the button for the 3rd floor repeatedly. When the doors finally opened to the ICU, you sprinted from the elevator and down the hall towards Elliot's room.

You were breathless when you reached the doorway of his room, but you didn't care. Olivia, Munch, Fin, and Cragen all stood around the bed and they turned towards the door when they heard you.

You barely noticed any of them. Your focus was entirely on the man sitting up in bed, his bright blue eyes locked on yours. "Elliot," you breathed softly.

Every single person in that room felt the air shift when you entered. It didn't take a trained investigator to recognize the tension in the air. You didn't move from the doorway and your gaze didn't leave Elliot's face.

"Why don't we give you guys a moment alone?" Cragen suggested as he started to back out towards the door.

The other three followed their captain, Olivia shutting the door as she exited the room.

"Hey," Elliot murmured once the two of you were alone.

"Hi," you said softly, voice catching slightly as your emotions washed over you.

"Come here," he coaxed.

You crossed the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed.

The two of you stared at each other in silence, emotions threatening to overwhelm both of you. It felt like everything inside you bubbled up all at once and you gasped, "I'm sorry."

Elliot spoke his apology at the exact same time. "I'm sorry."

You both let out a breathy laugh, some of the tension easing from your bodies.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Elliot asked.

"I shouldn't have ever questioned our friendship. It was cruel."

He shook his head. "If anyone was cruel, it was me. Frankly, I deserved way worse than what you said. I didn't mean a word of it, (Y/N), not a single word."

"I know--" you began.

"Let me finish," he cut in insistently. You fell silent, allowing him to continue. "I shouldn't have called you a slut. I shouldn't have judged your relationship--it wasn't my place. I was upset and I took it out on you...it wasn't fair and I'm sorry. You deserve better."

"I appreciate that," you said quietly. "But why did you say it? You're never cruel to me...ever."

The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart in two. "I was mad at you," he mumbled. "It's stupid and it doesn't matter 'cause you're with Tony anyway and you're happy and I should be happy toorightbecauseyou'remybestfriend--"

You grabbed his arm to bring his attention back to you and cut off his ramble. "You can breathe now," you teased you lightly.

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I think it's cute when you ramble like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm cute."

You grinned. "Very cute," you said in a teasing tone. As you looked at him, your smile slipped and a sad expression slid into place. "I thought I was going to lose you," you whispered.

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm harder to get rid of than that."

Tears filled your eyes, despite your attempt to smile. "What happened, Elliot?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"I know the official story, but I wanna hear it from you."

"I needed to blow off some steam, so I went to the bar for a couple drinks. Some guy got into an argument, pulled out a gun, and started shooting...so I shot back."

Your eyes fluttered closed. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't."

"But you could have been!" you said loudly. "Why the hell did you go to that bar alone? Why didn't you just stay home? You could have called someone to go with you! You could of--"

"(Y/N)," Elliot cut in gently. "I'm okay."

You realized you'd been rambling and you inhaled deeply to catch your breath. "I was so scared," you whispered. "When I woke up and Olivia told me what had happened...it felt like my world was falling apart. All I wanted was to see you, but you were still in surgery. Even when you finally made it to recovery, they wouldn't let me see you because they wanted to keep me for observation overnight."

"Wait, what? Who wanted to keep you for observation?" he asked, confused.

"The hospital," you answered. "I got here about 5 minutes after you."

"What?" His eyes scanned over your body, checking for wounds or signs of injuries. "Why? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you assured him gently. "It was just a panic attack."

He looked even more confused. "A panic attack?"

"It was intense," you admitted. "I passed out and Tony called 911. I didn't know what happened to you until I woke up in the hospital and listened to my voicemails from Olivia."

"I thought you usually knew when a panic attack was coming on."

"This one was weird. It hit me suddenly and literally brought me to my knees." You paused. "Anyway, I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Elliot admitted. "My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it."

"Do you need pain meds? I can get the nurse--" you turned to call for the nurse, but he grabbed your arm to stop you.

"No, please--don't go."

You turned back to him. "I'm not going anywhere, but if you're in pain, the nurse can help."

He shook his head. "The meds make me sleep. I don't wanna sleep."

"Alright, but if the pain becomes unbearable, please tell me."

"I will," he promised. "I just want to talk to you for a while longer."

You smiled. "I can't say no to that."

For the next several minutes, you helped Elliot get caught up on everything that had happened in the last three weeks, leaving out a few key things about changes in your life until the end.

"I, uhh--I broke up with Tony," you mumbled quickly.

Elliot's eyes widened and you swore his face lit up before he tried to hide it. "Oh? I'm sorry, (Y/N/N). I know you really liked him."

You shrugged. "He's a good man and he'll make a great husband for someone, just not me."

"So...why'd you break up with him?"

"He deserved to be with someone who loved him the way he loved me and I knew I'd never be able to."

"Why not?" Fuck subtlety, he thought to himself.

You laughed breathily. "Good lord you're full of questions."

"That's not an answer."

You shot him a look of annoyance, but he knew you weren't actually upset. You were clearly trying to decide how to answer his question...and how much information you really wanted to give him.

"You can't love more than one person at the same time. At least not fully."

He raised his eyebrows. "Who do you love?"

"Elliot," you groaned softly. "Why does it matter?"

"I want to know." I need to know.

You sighed heavily. "How long have we known each other?"

He was clearly confused by your question, but he answered it anyway. "Eight years?"

You nodded. "And you were married for most of it, right?"

"As far as I'm aware, yes," he said in boorish tone.

"Six years, Elliot. Six whole years of my life," you said softly.

"What do you mean?"

You bit your lip and stared at the blanket covering his chest, unable to look at his face as you answered his question. "That's how long I've loved you," you whispered.

He'd waited two very long years to hear you say those words, but he'd never actually imagined you would ever say them. He was so stunned by your admission that he found himself rendered mute.

The seconds ticked by and you started to feel incredibly foolish and embarrassed. "Please say something," you begged.

He realized he'd been silent for too long and he rushed to say the words that had lived in his heart for so long. "I don't really know when I fell in love with you, (Y/N), but I'll never forget the moment I realized I loved you, and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as your eyes shot up to meet his. You'd never dreamed he'd feel the same...at least not until three weeks ago. Perhaps Olivia was right after all--perhaps you really were connected in a deeper way. "El..."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered.

"I love you," you said simply.

His chest ached from more than just the gun shot wounds. "I love you too."

You let out an awkward chuckle. "So what do we do now?"

"Right now?" he asked. "Well right now, you're going to kiss me because I can't really move."

You laughed warmly before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to his warm lips. The moment your lips connected, it just felt right. Everything about him felt right.

"As much as I'd love to kiss you until one or both of us passes out from lack of oxygen, I think I might need those painkillers instead," he said softly, finally letting the pain creep into his voice.

You nearly smacked him. "How long have you been in this much pain?"

"Doesn't matter. This was more than worth it."

You glared at him, but the glare quickly softened to an affectionate expression of concern. "I'll get the nurse."

You returned moments later with the nurse in tow. She gave Elliot a shot of morphine to dull his pain. It didn't take long for him to drift back off to sleep.

You settled into a chair beside his bed, content to stay beside him for as long as the hospital staff would let you.

**********

Four days later, Elliot was finally released from the hospital. You insisted he come to your place because there was absolutely no way you were going to let him be alone yet. Much to your surprise, he didn't argue, if anything he seemed glad for your insistence.

"At least I don't have to give you a tour," you said with a smile as you held the door open for Elliot.

"I've only been here 100 times," he teased.

You closed the door behind him and watched as he moved slowly towards the couch. You knew he was still in pain, though he likely wouldn't admit it.

"Do you need anything?" you asked tentatively as he sunk down onto the couch with a muffled groan.

"Nah, I'm fine."

You knew better than to argue with him. "How 'bout we order Chinese for an early dinner? I don't really feel like cooking."

"God, yes. That sounds amazing."

"Hospital food that bad?" you teased.

"Worse."

You laughed and went to the kitchen to grab the number for your favorite take out place. You ordered enough food to feed a small army before settling onto the couch beside Elliot.

"Okay, so here's the options: we can watch TV, we can sit in silence and awkwardly stare at the wall, or we can talk."

"I vote for the awkward staring."

You laughed. "TV it is."

You turned the TV on, but nothing seemed particularly interesting. Eventually you settled on some mindless drama.

You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across your lap. "Do you need one?"

"I'm good."

A few quiet moments went by before Elliot cleared his throat. You looked over at him, but he didn't say anything. You turned back to face the TV, but he started shifting beside you, as if he was restless.

"El?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He shook his head. "Not really. It's just--well it's just that you're kinda far away."

You raised an eyebrow as you regarded him. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"Well, I wanna hold you and I don't really give a damn if it hurts me."

You offered him a small smile. "I'll be gentle."

You moved closer to him and laid your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, wincing slightly as he shifted. Once you'd both gotten comfortable, your focus went back to the TV.

About 20 minutes later, the buzzer for the door went off and you jumped up to answer it. You let the delivery guy in the main doors and waited for him to reach your apartment.

"Do you always let the delivery guy in?" Elliot asked.

"Yeah."

"It's not safe, (Y/N)."

A knock at your door alerted you to the presence of your dinner. You opened the door, took the food, and paid before shutting the door behind him.

"I've never had any issues," you commented.

"We know plenty of people who have," Elliot said softly.

You glanced over at him and sighed. "El, I've been living alone for most of my adult life. I'm painfully aware of the dangers of being a single female in this city, and I'm always careful."

He nodded, but he didn't look like he really wanted to let it drop.

You walked back into the living room and started laying out the takeout boxes on the coffee table. "Dinner is served."

He inhaled deeply. "Damn that smells good."

"Thank you. I slaved away in the kitchen for hours to make it for you."

He laughed warmly. You saw the look of pain cross his face, the laughter clearly aggravating his wounds.

"At least take a couple Tylenol," you begged.

He sighed. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll take a couple."

The two of you had managed to eat a large portion of the food you'd ordered and you'd gotten Elliot to take some pain medication. All in all, you felt very successful.

The two of you were curled up on the couch watching a movie. Your head was in Elliot's lap, a blanket covering your body, and his arm draped across your torso.

At some point, his hand began to play with your hair and gently trace meaningless designs against your skin. The motion relaxed you and you sighed contentedly. Your eyes drifted closed and you knew you should get up go to bed, but you were simply too warm and comfortable to get up.

Next thing you knew, Elliot was gently shaking you awake. "Sweetheart? It's late. You should go to bed."

You let out a little groan. "But I'm so warm."

He chuckled. "You'll be nice and warm in your bed too. Come on," he coaxed.

You grumbled softly as you sat up. You dragged your weary body off the couch and started to walk back towards your bedroom. When you realized Elliot wasn't following you, you turned around. "Coming?"

"Oh, I--uh...I can sleep on the couch, ummm--if you want."

"We're adults, Elliot. We can share a bed."

"Thank god," he said as he slowly made his way towards you. "Your couch isn't comfortable to sleep on."

"Hey! You've never complained before."

"That's because sleeping in your bed was never an option before."

"I suppose you have a point."

He followed you into your room and chuckled softly as you crawled directly into bed, not even bothering to change into your pajamas. He walked to the other side of the bed and stood there for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do.

"You okay?" you asked.

"I, uhh, I normally wear a lot less clothing when I sleep."

"Oh," you mumbled with a blush. "Umm, you can get comfortable. I don't mind."

"I'll keep some stuff on for modesty," he teased lightly. "I just gotta lose the sweatpants or I'm gonna sweat to death in the middle of the night."

You laughed. "We wouldn't want that."

He quickly shed his pants before crawling into the bed beside you. "Shit," he said with a sigh. "You've been holding out on me."

"Huh?"

"This bed is 1,000 times more comfortable than the couch."

You laughed and very lightly smacked his arm. "You're the worst. You're lucky I let you share in this great comfort."

He grinned. "I feel very lucky. I'd even go so far as to say I feel honored."

You blushed. "Oh hush. Go to sleep, you dork. I'll see you in the morning."

You turned off the bedside lamp and settled back into the bed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Elliot."

**********

For the next couple weeks, Elliot was on desk duty at work, which meant he had much more time to spend with you. On slow days, he would come sit in your office and chat with you for hours until someone (usually Cragen or Olivia) came looking for him.

Even though he was more than capable of living alone again, Elliot was still crashing at your house. You'd insisted at first, but it had become a comfortable routine that neither of you were quite ready to break.

The rest of the squad started to notice the change in your relationship too. Elliot was much more affectionate towards you, both physically and verbally. He'd use terms of endearment as often as possible and he was always within arms' reach of you.

The shift in dynamics really became obvious when you and Elliot continued to arrive together to work in the morning after the doctors had cleared him for duty.

"Okay, I'm tired of dancing around this shit," Fin spoke up when you and Elliot walked in the door together.

"Dancing around what?" Olivia asked.

"That," he responded, pointing at you two.

"What about us?" Elliot asked.

"Are you still living with (Y/N)?"

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug.

"So are you dating?" Fin probed.

Elliot shrugged off his jacket and plopped down in his desk chair. "Yeah."

Three surprised voices started peppering you with questions. "Since when?" "Why didn't you tell us?" "How long has this been going on?"

"Guys!" you yelled as you threw up your hands. You were surprised that Elliot had admitted to the relationship so freely. You hadn't discussed keeping it a secret or anything like that, but you also hadn't discussed if and when you were going to tell everyone. "Can you at least wait until I put my bag down before you verbally assault me?"

The questions and comments continued, but were now aimed at Elliot as you made a beeline to your office to drop off your bag and coat.

Before you could make it back to the squad room, there was a gentle knock on the doorframe. "Got a second?"

You turned around at the sound of Cragen's voice. "Sure," you answered as you leaned back against your desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I may have overheard the commotion in the squad room when you and Elliot got in."

"Oh."

"Were you planning on telling me?"

"Honestly, sir, we hadn't discussed it. We didn't even really discuss our relationship...it just sort of happened."

"Near-death experiences will do that to you."

You nodded. "It was rather eye-opening for both of us, I think."

"Not as much for the rest of us."

"What do you mean?"

Cragen smiled. "It doesn't take a good detective to see how much the two of you care about each other, even long before Elliot got shot."

You blushed. "I tried not to be obvious."

"I make it a point to know my people, (Y/N), and I pay attention."

"I hope our relationship isn't going to be an issue, sir."

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about the two of you one bit. You've always been professional and I don't think admitting you love each other out loud will change that."

"I appreciate that, sir. I know Elliot will too."

Cragen just offered you a simple smile before making his way back towards the squad room. You followed slowly behind him, allowing yourself time to steel yourself for the onslaught of questions.

Much to your surprise, the conversation had shifted to other topics, namely Munch's permanent bachelor status and Olivia's terrible choices in men.

You leaned against Elliot's desk and he looked up to smile at you.

"I see they've moved on."

"I put them in their place," he said with a smirk.

"Do I wanna know what that means?"

"Probably not."

You laughed. "You're probably right."

Elliot's next thought was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He answered it, listened for a few moments, then said "We'll be there in 15," before hanging up. "Liv, we've got a vic over at Bellevue."

She sighed and grabbed her coat. Elliot followed suit, but he paused to kiss you softly before following her out the door. "I'll see you later. Love you."

You smiled. "Love you too. Be safe."

"Always," he said with a wink.

You watched him walk out the door and you felt a pang in your chest. You'd always worried about him--about all of them--every time they went out on a call, but it felt different now. Knowing he loved you as much as you loved him made it so much harder to watch him leave knowing he might never come back.

Thankfully, he did come back, though he was not in a pleasant mood. He was snapping at every person who crossed his path and anyone who dared look at him sideways.

"It was the dad, Olivia," he was yelling when you came into the squad room. "I'm sure of it."

"Okay, Elliot, but we don't have any proof!" she yelled back.

"Hey," you cut in. "What's going on."

"Little girl is in the ICU because she'd been beaten pratically to death. The doctor said there was also evidence of prolonged sexual abuse," Elliot answered.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, what's worse is the father did it," he said angrily.

"What proof do you have?" you asked.

"God, not you too."

"El, we can't just assume it's the father without some sort of evidence."

"My instincts and years of experience not enough for you?"

"It might be enough for me, but it's not enough for a court of law," you countered.

You could see the rage in his eyes and you knew exactly what he was thinking. You knew the statistics as well as anyone, so you knew it was likely that the child had been raped by a close family member. As a father himself, Elliot hated when a father was the cause of such trauma to a child. That hatred fulled his anger, which led to poor decision making.

"Why don't I talk to the father?" you suggested.

"I'm bringing him in tomorrow morning. I want first dibs," Elliot insisted.

"I think it's best if I talk to him first," you said gently, but firmly.

"Why?"

You sighed, not really wanting to answer him. "Because I'm not sure you can be objective, Elliot."

As you suspected, that only fueled his anger more. "Of course I can be objective! I'm objective! Why do you think--"

"You're angry," you said, cutting him off.

He paused. "Of course I'm angry!"

"I may not have children, but I understand where your anger is coming from, Elliot. The difference is you let your emotions guide you--you imagine yourself in that person's shoes and it fuels your rage." You sighed deeply. "For what it's worth, I trust your judgment. If you think he's guilty, I'm inclined to agree, but I want to talk to him first."

Your words seemed to calm him down. He hated seeing a child hurt, especially one that had been hurt repeatedly. He knew you were right--he was emotional and that tended to cloud his judgment. You, on the other hand, knew how to remain calm and rational, which tended to get you better results.

"You're right. You should interview him."

At that moment, Cragen stepped out of his office. "Emily Riley just passed away. The parents are on their way down to the station now."

"What happened?" Elliot asked.

"She threw a clot to her brain. It was likely caused by the beating she took."

"Why are the parents coming down here?" you asked.

"Mrs. Riley attacked Mr. Riley. She was screaming something about him doing this to Emily. Uniformed officers are bringing them down."

You turned to look at Elliot, who had a slightly surprised look on his face. "I think that means you were right, El."

"Maybe, just once, I'd like to be wrong."

When the Rileys arrived down at the station, Fin and Munch took Mrs. Riley to an interview room, while you took Mr. Riley to another room. Olivia joined you at your request, while Elliot and Cragen watched from the other side of the glass.

It didn't take you very long to get a full confession from Mr. Riley. He admitted to sexually assaulting his daughter for several years. It took a little longer for him to admit to beating her, but eventually he did. He told you and Olivia that he had to kill Emily because she threatened to tell her mother about what he'd done to her for years.

Once he admitted that, Elliot stormed into the room and yelled at him--screaming that he was a pervert and a monster. "You'll get the needle for this...and I'll be right there watching."

Elliot put handcuffs on him and took him to booking, with Olivia trailing behind. You met Cragen outside the interrogation room and he told you you'd done a good job.

"Honestly, I'd rather never have to do an interview like that again."

"But you're good at it, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

"I don't think any of us really like it."

You offered him a sad smile before walking away, heading to your office to sit down and have a nice cry.

About 30 minutes later, Elliot found you in your office, eyes red from crying.

"Doll?" he asked. "You okay?"

You nodded. "I'm fine. I just...I hate doing those."

He came around the side of your desk and pulled you into him. "I know, baby. I don't like them either."

"That poor little girl. She never had a chance."

He squeezed you tighter. "At least he's going to prison for the rest of his life...thanks to you."

You looked up at him. "I can't take all the credit. Olivia was there too."

"You're the one who won him over. You got him to admit to everything he'd ever done to his daughter."

"At least this is done. I just wanna go home."

"Me too," he said as he stood up. "Get your coat and let's get out of here."

"I want a hot bath," you grumbled.

He chuckled lightly. "Hot bath, a glass of wine, and a good night's sleep next to your very handsome boyfriend, should do the trick."

You rolled your eyes as you threw on your jacket. "I'm taking you up on that."

"It's a guarantee," he said with a wink.

**********

It had been two months since Elliot had been shot. Two of the best months you'd had in a long time. Elliot felt the same. He loved spending time with you and just being around you made him feel so at peace. Just sitting next to you on the couch while you watched a movie made him happy. It was all the little moments that warmed his heart.

Tonight was special. It was the anniversary of the day Elliot realized he was in love with you. To you, it was an ordinary Tuesday, but to him, it was one of the most important days of his life.

He'd made dinner reservations for your favorite restaurant for that evening, but he wouldn't tell you anything else he was planning.

"Why tonight? What's the occasion?" you'd asked him that morning.

"Because I love you and I want to show you just how much," he'd answered.

You didn't believe there wasn't more to it, but you let the matter drop. By the time 5pm rolled around, you'd almost forgotten about your plans for that evening.

"Come on, babe, we gotta go," Elliot said as he popped his head into your office.

"Just let me finish this--"

"We've got reservations at 6:30, sweetheart."

You looked at your watch. "It's only 5:15."

"We have to get home and change first."

"Where are we going that I can't wear this?"

"It's a surprise! Now come on."

You laughed and gathered your belongings before following him out the door.

When you arrived home, you found that Elliot had already picked out exactly what both of you would be wearing that evening. He'd selected a beautiful dress for you and a well-tailored suit for himself.

Thirty minutes later, he was dragging you out the door, insisting he didn't want to be late.

When Elliot pulled up in front of the restaurant, your face lit up in surprise. "Elliot, you hate this place," you insisted.

He shrugged. "But it's your favorite."

"El..."

"Come on, beautiful." He hopped out of the car and quickly came around to your side to help you out. He dropped his keys in the valet's outstretched hand before guiding you to the door.

"You never do valet. You always say it's a waste of money," you whispered.

"Tonight is a special occasion," he countered. "Besides, you're worth it."

You blushed heavily as he held the door open for you and followed you inside. "Is that why you took me to one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan?" you murmured quietly.

"Mhmm," he hummed.

"Am I missing something here? What's the special occasion?"

Before he could respond, you were met by the maitre d'. "Good evening. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. Two for Stabler."

The man smiled at the two of you. "Right this way sir, ma'am."

You followed him to a nice secluded table in the far corner of the restaurant. It gave Elliot an excellent view of the entrance and it suited your preference for a quiet table.

A bottle of wine was immediately brought to your table and two cups poured. It was, of course, your favorite wine.

"Seriously, El...what's with all the fanciness?"

You chuckled. "Can't I treat my girl just because I want to?"

"You can, but I know you. You don't like fancy things."

"But you do."

"Sometimes," you conceited. "Especially when it comes to food."

He grinned. "You have very high expectations as it relates to food."

"You're not wrong."

A server seemed to appear out of nowhere to take your orders. You hadn't even begun to look at the menu, but you didn't need to. You knew exactly what you wanted. After the server left, you turned your attention back to Elliot.

"Are you going to tell me what's so special about today?"

He looked you in the eyes and for some reason, his expression made you feel emotional. "Two years ago today, I realized I was in love with you. This is the first time I've actually had the opportunity to celebrate that love."

Tears welled in your eyes and you gently fanned your face with your hand. "Come on, (Y/N), don't cry in public," you said lightly to yourself.

Elliot laughed warmly and reached across the table to take your hand. The man wasn't big into romantic gestures, but he'd made an effort for you and that meant everything to you.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"You need to meet better people then," he said with a smile.

"It wouldn't have the same meaning coming from someone else."

It was his turn to blush. "You deserve to know how much you mean to me. I want to make sure you never forget it."

"I love you, Elliot," you said softly.

"Not as much as I love you."

The evening was extremely beautiful. Delicious food, incredible company...who could ask for a better night?

When you made it back home, you immediately slipped off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. "Who invented heels and can I kill them?" you grumbled.

Elliot laughed as he tugged off his tie. "I'm 80% certain murder is illegal. Besides, they make your ass look incredible."

You laughed. "You're not wrong, but only 80%?" You sat up and watched him as he continued to remove his shirt. Your eyes followed his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt--mouth watering slightly at the teasing bit of his form you could see.

Ordinarily you'd be embarrassed by how blatantly you were staring, but it had been a long time since you'd felt the touch of a man and your body suddenly lit up.

Elliot was still chattering on about something until he looked in your direction and fell silent. The look on your face was hungry--possessive even--and it sent a shock wave of desire through his body.

"Baby?" he asked tentatively.

"Come here," you responded, voice low and husky.

Even if he'd been blind and deaf, he still would have been able to feel the desire oozing from every pore in your body. It wrapped around him, enveloping every part of him, pulling him towards you.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes slowly tracing over your body, waiting for you to give him permission to touch you.

"Help me up," you purred.

He grabbed your hands and pulled you to your feet. "Turn around," he said softly.

You did as he asked, exposing the zipper of your dress to him. You felt his fingers slide slowly up your spine before grasping the zipper and pulling it down at an agonizingly slow pace to just above the curve of your butt.

His lips brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder as he began to remove your dress. He could feel your heart racing, the blood pumping through your arteries as he kissed your neck.

You gasped softly as his teeth grazed your pulse point, sending shivers through your body. His hands pushed your dress the rest of the way down, letting it pool at your feet.

You felt his hands caress you, sliding around your midsection and pulling you back against him. The way he touched you only made you want him more--the slow pace he'd set driving you crazy.

As if he sensed your need for more, his left hand began to slowly glide up your torso towards your breasts. He slid his hand across one breast and then the other, giving each one a gentle squeeze as he did so.

Your body was flush against his and you could feel his arousal pressing into your back. The lack of skin-to-skin contact was making you desperate. You needed to feel him--all of him.

You turned your head to look up at his face, but you were surprised by his heavy-lidded expression. You'd never seen him look like that and it did something to you.

Your lips parted slightly as you gazed at him and he found it impossible to resist. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, earning a soft sigh from you. You turned around so your chest was pressed against his, and your arms wound around his neck.

His shirt was already unbuttoned, so all you had to do was push it back off his shoulders and let him tug it the rest of the way off. You then let your hands wander under the hem of his undershirt, palms flattening against his taunt abs.

He knew what you wanted, so he pulled back just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head. He leaned back in to kiss you, but you pulled back slightly, hand pressed against his chest to keep him in place.

He would have been hurt by the motion if he'd missed the look on your face. Instead, he felt his chest swell with pride as you eyed him like he was the god, Adonis.

"See something you like?" he teased.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. "I see a whole lot I like."

He grinned and pulled you back in for another searing kiss. You swore that every time he touched you, it was like your body was on fire--each touch increasing the intensity of the burning. But it wasn't painful...it was an incredible feeling and you wanted more.

Elliot's hands made their way to your back, and he deftly unclasped your bra with practiced hands. You let the bra slide down your arms, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

He cupped them, lifting them to his mouth as he lowered his head to taste your skin. You let out a moan of pleasure as he nipped and sucked, paying each breast and each nipple its dues.

Your fingers began to claw at his belt, desperately trying to free him from the confines of his pants. Elliot chuckled softly at both your desperation and your frustration at not being able to undo his belt.

He pulled back and nodded his head towards the bed. "Lie down, baby."

You did as he asked, eyes never leaving him. He quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He was slow to remove them, clearly enjoying the tortured expression on your face.

Your breathing was labored, despite the fact that you weren't doing a damn thing. You could feel your arousal pooling in your panties and you knew you were seconds away from completely losing it.

"How 'bout I just remove these too while I'm at it?" Elliot asked as he tugged his boxer shorts down his legs. When he stood up straight, you got your first view of his erection and you felt your pussy clench as a little gasp escaped your mouth.

He was thick and long--larger than you were used to, but not so big that it scared you. Your mouth watered slightly, the mere thought of feeling his weight on your tongue a massive turn on.

You quickly pulled yourself off the bed, cutting off Elliot's question before he could even speak as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

His eyes widened slightly as he gazed down at you. You looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression that nearly buckled his knees. He watched as you tentatively placed your hands on his thighs, eyes flicking up to his, checking to make sure it was okay.

He reached out and ran his fingers through your hair, letting you know he was comfortable. You licked your lips as your hands moved up his thighs, nails gently scratching the skin.

Elliot's breathing was already heavy and he knew he was going to have a hard time controlling his orgasm. It had been a long time for him too, after all.

You gripped his cock in your dominant hand, leaning towards him to take him into your mouth. You took as much of him as you could without gagging, eyes never leaving his face.

"Fuck," he whispered as he looked down at you.

The single curse word sounded like praise to you, so you ran with it. You wasted no time--you set a quick, intense pace, and he was loving it.

His fingers were tangled in your hair and a string of moans, heavy pants, and curses slipped from his mouth. He watched you as much as he could, but his head would roll back involuntarily as he reacted to the pleasure.

"You're doing so well, baby--feels amazing."

You moaned softly around his cock in response. The vibrations mixed with the warm, wet heaven of your mouth nearly made him cum. You felt the way his body tensed and knew he was close, so you sped up your movements, paying special attention to his sensitive head.

Elliot had been determined not to cum yet, but he was struggling to hold himself back. It just felt so damn good. "Baby, I--I'm close."

You were well aware and you wanted to taste him so badly--so you did the only logical thing...you looked up at him as you sucked, eyes filled with desire.

Within seconds, Elliot filled your throat with his cum--orgasm slamming into him like a freight train. As he started to come down from his high, he realized his grip on your hair was way too tight and he let go of you instantly.

"Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?" he asked breathlessly.

You smiled up at him and licked your lips, making sure to get the last of his cum into your mouth. "Not at all, El. I loved every minute of it."

He relaxed and let out a relieved sigh. "Well so did I...you were phenomenal, (Y/N/N)."

He helped you up and pulled you against him so he could kiss you--not giving a damn that he could taste himself on your tongue.

"Can you lie down for me, baby? I'd like to repay the favor."

"You don't have to," you assured him as you settled onto the bed.

He looked at you in confusion. "You say it like it's some sort of chore."

You shrugged. "Not all men reciprocate."

"What kind of heathens have you been dating?"

You laughed. "Well...none of them were you."

"See, there's your problem," he teased.

He climbed onto the bed with you, hovering over your body, eyes scanning your face as if he was memorizing it.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he murmured.

"Once or twice," you said, cheeks blushing slightly.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I've gotta tell you more often. No one compares."

Now your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "Elliot..."

He suddenly sat up. "You know what, babe? I've got a much better idea." He flopped down onto his back. "Sit on my face."

"Say what?"

He turned his head to look at you. "Sit on my face," he said again.

"I...umm. That sounds dangerous."

He cocked an eyebrow. "It's not dangerous, it's sexy as hell."

You sat up and turned to face him. "Are you sure? I mean...couldn't I smother you?"

He laughed. "Absolutely not." His expression sobered suddenly. "Are you telling me no guy has ever asked you to sit on their face?"

You shook your head, embarrassment creeping into your face.

He sat back up and reached for you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, but I promise you it's worth it--for both of us."

"Are you sure?" you asked again.

"I'm absolutely positive, babe."

He looked and sounded so confident--and to be honest, you'd always wanted to try it--so you nodded your agreement.

You quickly pulled your panties off before climbing on top of him. You straddled his chest--a slightly worried expression on your face.

"I promise you, you're not gonna hurt me," he reassured you. "Besides, I'm strong enough to throw you off me if I had to."

His tone was light and teasing, which made you feel better. Plus, you knew it was true--he really could throw you around if he wanted to.

You took a deep breath and moved your body so your pussy was directly over his face. You lowered yourself slightly, but you didn't actually sit on him.

He sighed in annoyance. "Did I ask you to hover over my face, baby?"

"No," you mumbled.

"What did I ask?"

"You asked me to sit."

"Mhmm...so sit."

You lowered yourself a little more, but you didn't put your full weight on him. You didn't think he would notice, but you were completely wrong.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and tugged you down so you were completely flush against him. He made the happiest noise you'd ever heard before diving into the delicious feast above him.

You nearly jumped off of him as he began to eat you out--the sensations so intense, it startled you. But holy fucking shit did it feel incredible.

The sounds coming from your mouth were loud enough to wake your neighbors. You grasped the headboard for support as you moaned and begged and chanted his name like a prayer.

All-the-while, Elliot was expertly attacking your pussy, sending wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure through your body. He groaned into you as he feasted, your cries of pleasure spurring him on.

He felt your nails rake against his scalp and your thighs began to shake. He tightened his grip on you as he continued his ministrations.

"Elliot--fuck," you gasped. "I'm so close."

"I know," he said into your pussy, knowing full well you couldn't hear him. He sped up his assault on your clit and seconds later your orgasm washed over you--screams of his name echoing in the small room.

He continued lapping up the mess you'd made, arms still wound tightly around your legs, keeping you against his mouth.

You started to squirm, but he didn't let go. "El--sensitive."

After a couple more licks, he finally released you and you practically fell off of him and onto the bed. Your legs shivered as aftershocks worked their way through your body.

Elliot was happily licking his lips as he watched you, expression smug. You looked almost delirious with pleasure and it brought him great pride.

"That...was...incredible," you said between breaths.

He grinned as he sat up. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did." He wiped the rest of your slick from his face with a satisfied smirk.

You looked over at him and laughed breathlessly. He just looked so pleased with himself that you couldn't help but find it funny.

"Kiss me," you pleaded softly.

He was never one to deny you, so he pulled himself up and climbed onto your body, hovering over you once again. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours, earning a contented sigh from your lips.

You cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable and you could feel his arousal press against your thigh. You smiled against his lips, appreciating that he was willing and able to keep going.

Elliot felt your lips curve into a smile and he pulled away so he could look at you. "Something funny, doll?"

You shook your head. "Nothing's funny. I'm just...pleased."

He chuckled and kissed your neck. "Pleased, eh?" He pressed another kiss against your skin. "About what?"

"You," you said breathlessly--his kisses quite clearly having the desired effect on you.

He smiled as he nipped at your collar bone. "I'll take the compliment."

You lifted your hips, brushing against his cock in search of friction. He hissed softly, the feeling too much and not enough at the same time.

Elliot grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him so he could settle more comfortably between your legs. He went back to kissing you, his hands gently skimming over your skin, his cock pressed against your entrance.

You ran your fingers through his short hair and whined softly.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Need you."

"I'm right here." His teasing tone annoyed you slightly--he knew exactly what you wanted.

"Elliot," you whined.

He grinned. "Come on pretty girl, just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"I want you."

He nipped at your jaw. "Come on...you can do better than that."

You whined again, squirming beneath him, in dire need of his touch. "I wanna feel you inside of me, Elliot--please," you begged.

He growled softly, hearing you beg for him like that made him almost feral.

To your surprise, he started to pull away from you. "El?"

"Need a damn condom."

"I'm on birth control," you said quickly.

"You sure, babe? We know this little swimmers are potent."

You laughed. "I'm sure. Come here."

He lowered himself back on top of you and lined his cock up with your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he started to push into you slowly.

The stretch was both delicious and painful at the same time. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you winced slightly when he was about halfway in.

"Shit, am I hurting you?" His worried tone matched his facial expression.

"I'm fine," you assured him. "You're just...big."

He grinned wolfishly, pride pumping through his veins. He kept pushing forward until he completely bottomed out inside you, a deep groan escaping from his lips.

He gave you a few moments to adjust before he began to move. His speed was slow and languid, and his eyes never left yours. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and enjoying yourself as much as possible.

"More," you gasped out softly.

He sped up his movements, earning a series of moans from you. He shifted his body to get a better angle and you cried out in pleasure, nails scratching into his skin.

He knew better than to slow down or shift any farther. With each thrust, he brought you closer and closer to the edge--and the convulsing of your tight pussy mixed with the sounds coming from your mouth, pushed him towards the edge too.

"Please, please, please" you chanted.

"I've got you," he murmured.

Your nails dug even deeper into his skin, drawing blood as they raked down his back. You cried out in pleasure--a sound that closely resembled his name--as your orgasm hit you.

Elliot barely held on long enough to get in another thrust before he was filling you up with his seed, whispering your name like a prayer in your ear.

As the two of you came down from your highs, Elliot slowly pulled out of you. You shivered at the loss of contact and you could feel his cum leaking from your hole.

"I'll be right back, baby," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You could hear him in the distance, but you were a little delirious from all the pleasure he'd just given you. When he came back, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you towards the bathroom.

You let out a little yelp when he lifted you--you were unaccustomed to being carried anywhere. "What--?"

"Hot bath?"

You smiled up at him. He didn't really strike you as an aftercare kind of man, but you could tell he really cared. He wanted to take care of you.

You nodded and he very gently lowered you down into the tub, which was still filling with hot water.

"Temperature okay?"

"It's perfect," you said with a sigh as you leaned back. "Join me."

"In a minute, babe."

He left the room and came back a few moments later with a lighter and a couple candles. He quickly lit them and turned off the light, so the room was bathed in a soft glow. It was surprisingly romantic.

You leaned forward so he could slide into the tub behind you. As soon as he was comfortable, he grabbed you and pulled you back against him. He kissed the top of your head and you sighed happily.

"I love you," he whispered into your hair. "So damn much."

"I love you too, Elliot."

The two of you stayed in the bath until the water began to cool. Elliot helped you dry off and slip on your nightgown before guiding you back to the bed.

He pulled on a pair of boxers and slid beneath the covers beside you. He reached out and put his arm around you, pulling you to him so your back was flush to his chest.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered.

You were already drifting off to sleep as he uttered those sweet words. He didn't need a reply--he knew exactly how you felt by the way you curled into him, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

#elliot stabler x reader #elliot stabler #elliot stabler x reader smut #detective stabler #law and order svu #law and order svu smut #detective stabler smut #elliot stabler smut

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petriquors · 9 months

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POV: someone joins you on the balcony

You hate that your boss made you attend this charity gala while she’s on vacation. It’s her job to rub elbows with Gotham’s elite, not yours, and she did nothing to prepare you for all this small talk before jetting off to Bali with her beau of the week.

You finish your drink and fantasize about quitting.

With their stifling conversations, stuffy outfits, and barely edible teeny portions of food, formal events like this are absolutely suffocating. All you need is a minute in the fresh air. So, toward the end of cocktail hour, you indulge in your compulsion to see if the balcony door you spotted earlier is unlocked.

It opens on the first try.

It’s not a particularly large balcony, but you’re grateful that there’s no one out here but you. You close the door gingerly, leaving behind the metaphorical veil that makes you look and act like the perfect party guest by obscuring everything about you that makes you a real person.

For a blissful interlude, it’s just you, the moonlight, and the distant sounds of the city. If you close your eyes, you think you can hear your real life: the subway, late night pizza, binge-watching a show on the sofa you got off of an online buy nothing group.

“Is this balcony taken?”

You quickly turn your head to see the man who just intruded on your solitude. He’s perfectly average in all the right ways—average height, nice athletic build, dark hair, blue eyes, a navy tuxedo so dark it’s almost black. There’s a certain air about him, a hint of the unknown, a something-special that you can’t quite name. It’s as if all his pieces, while unremarkable on their own, fit together to create a breathtakingly beautiful puzzle.

And, since he’s already halfway out the balcony door, something compels you to say, “There’s room for one more.”

He’s careful to close the door instead of letting it swing shut. While he does, he looks at his hand on the gleaming brass handle as if he’s mentally cataloging which parts of himself are staying in the ballroom and which are coming outside with him. After a moment, his arm goes lax, his hands slide into his pockets, and he steps into the moonlight beside you.

“I don’t know,” he says through a crooked smile. “There’s a whole lot of brooding out here. Are you sure there’s room?”

You give him a sidelong glance as the corners of your mouth pucker, fighting a smile. You’re supposed to be moping, not…whatever this is. “What do you have to brood about?”

He grips the railing of the balcony and leans back hips-first, stretching out his arms and craning his neck to look out over the city. His body’s here, but his mind is miles away, maybe even in another universe. “The debilitating weight of other people’s expectations, eldest child syndrome, and a pesky fear of commitment.”

There’s a beat of silence during which you just blink at him. Then, he glances at you and his crooked grin is back, but there’s something pensive underneath the easy smile. It’s impossible to tell if he’s being facetious or brutally honest, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that says he’s trying to laugh through the pain.

He breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t only talk about myself. Why are you brooding all alone?”

You pluck the little name tag you’re supposed to be wearing out of the pocket you shoved it into. It has your boss’s name, not yours. “My boss is sipping cocktails on the beach with a man half her age, and I’m here.”

“Wow, that is such a universal experience,” he teases in a monotone. It’s then that you notice he’s not wearing a name tag either. “Why didn’t you just say no? You’re busy. You have the stomach flu. You have a phobia of weird canapés.”

That smile you’ve been holding back finally appears on your face. “Because of the debilitating weight of other people’s expectations and eldest child syndrome. Also, I need to pay my rent.”

He catches on to what you’re doing immediately. His eyes sparkle like the stars and his face brightens like the moon, reflecting the light that you’re giving off. “So you don’t have a pesky fear of commitment?”

Yes, you think. No. Maybe. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone that you have no idea. What you do know is that something is happening to you on this balcony right now, and you hope it’s happening to him too.

Time seems to slow down, and both of you watch as his hand closest to you loosens, then shifts half an inch toward yours. You extend a pinky. He extends his in response, keeping only a centimeter of space between you like an unspoken promise.

You sense a kinship with him unlike what you’ve felt with anyone else tonight—or maybe ever—so you have to ask, “Who are you?”

Your mystery man presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as if you’ve asked him what the meaning of life is. Deftly, he dodges the question. “The most exciting part of your night?”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan. “And does he have a name?”

His grin widens. “Yup.”

Your heartbeat quickens. He stares at you with an intensity that makes the cosmos quake, and you stare right back, speaking a thousand words while saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, and you can’t believe that an overused pun makes you short with laughter. “I’m Dick Grayson. Now you: what should really be on that name tag?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #my stuff #my fluff #my dick grayson stuff #my dick grayson fluff #my batfamily stuff #my batfamily fluff

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welldonebeca · 9 months

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The Triplets (3)

Summary: Lizzie moves in with her favourite honorary Uncle, Beau, to find work in a big city, and starts sharing a house with him and his other two twins brothers. The triplets - Dean, Ben and Beau - couldn't be more different and more similar at the same time. One thing they all share? Well, they all want to fuck her, of course. Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x Lizzie (OC), Beau Arlen x Lizzie (OC), Dean Winchester x Lizzie (OC). Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort. Alcohol. Fluff. Quiet sex. Size difference. Size kink. Virginity loss. Virginity kink. Oral sex.

Lizzie didn’t leave her room after that, even skipping dinner.

She had almost fucked Ben right there!

What was wrong with her? Was she really gonna throw away her virginity like that? To the first guy to kiss her in the middle of the corridor, where anyone could find them?!

But the way he kissed her…

His lips were so soft and his beard rubbed against her face…

She had made herself cum for an hour straight before falling asleep, and now it was past midnight and she couldn’t sleep.

Lizzie was hungry, embarrassed and horny, a horrible combination.

So she listened and listened for any movement outside, and put on a baggy shirt over her panties, walking out in bare feet. Everyone was asleep, thank goodness.

Maybe there were leftovers in the fridge.

Instead of food, though, she found a six-pack, cool and taunting her.

Food be damned, she needed a good buzz.

She pulled it out and went to the living room, opening a can a nursing it while looking for the remote, so she could flip through channels, watching a random game show mindlessly.

“What are you doing?” she heard all of a sudden.

Lizzie jumped, nearly falling down the couch.

Oh my God, she was sitting all spread, her clothes were a mess, had he seen anything?

She quickly grabbed a pillow and covered her thighs.

“Sorry,” Dean approached her quickly. “Are you alright?”

She blushed, embarrassed, and nodded quickly.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m just… watching TV.”

Dean nodded stiffly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I just got … thirsty”

Dean’s eyes darted to the beer in her hand, but nodded, a little more relaxed.

“Right,” he agreed. “Thirsty.”

She flushed, looking away, and Dean sat down by her side.

“Look,” he spoke softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude to you.”

Lizzie blinked, confused.

“What?”

“The way I talked,” he explained. “I’m not good with people sometimes. I can be an asshole.”

Oh, right. She remembered that now.

She had forgotten it after Ben put his tongue inside her mouth.

“It’s alright,” she insisted.

Dean just shook his head.

“I know I upset you,” he insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you were just looking at the car.”

Lizzie moved, a little unsure.

“It’s a nice car,” she mumbled. “I understand you being protective of it.”

Dean smiled, relaxing.

“It was my dad’s,” he told her. “Don’t tell the guys, but I’m pretty sure we were made in that car.”

She snorted a laugh, surprised.

“Really?”

He shrugged.

“We might,” he elbowed her playfully. “I like to think I was the first and the other two are a corrupted version of me, you know? From the whole copying process.”

That made her laugh out loud, which Dean seemed to like.

“It’s why I have a different name,” he told her. “They thought they were having twins, so dad suggested Benjamin and Beaumont. I came out first, I was Benjamin, then Ben came and he was Beaumont.”

She nodded and he then chuckled.

“But then,” he raised a finger. “Beau came out. And they realised we were triplets. So, they did a reshuffle of the names. Ben became Benjamin, Beau became Beaumont, and I became Dean, because I’m the oldest, and mum wanted to pay homage to her mother.”

That was… messy.

“Let’s just say I got teased a lot for being named after grandma Deanna,” he sighed. “But I was her favourite, anyway.”

She giggled, but frowned a little, resting her head on the couch, a little buzzed.

“I wish I knew more about my mum,” she confessed, lips a little loose.

Dean’s face softened.

“What happened?” he asked.

Lizzie sipped her beer for a moment and sighed.

“She got sick when I was a kid,” she told him. “And… well, you know.”

Died.

He frowned.

“I didn’t know you had lost your mother.”

She smiled sadly, looking at him.

“Dad tried to work on his own with me, but then he remarried,” she told him. “It’s his wife that you have met.”

Dean hummed along.

“And I guess you don’t like her, then,” he supposed.

Lizzie clicked her tongue.

“Nope,” she agreed with him. “Not at all.”

She started to drink more at the thought, and dean follows along with her, picking one of the cans and drinking along.

“I get it,” he told her. “My mom died first, and I felt like I had to fill her shoes. I practically did.”

Lizzie rested her head on his shoulder slowly, and Dean reached for her free hand, giving it a squeeze, a soft comfort without the need of explaining themselves.

“Thanks for talking with me...” she sighed, a little slow on her lips. “I think you’re the first person who’s ever gotten it.”

He looked at her, lips parted, and she looked at him.

Lizzie really didn’t know who broke their stare, but in a minute his lips were in hers and he was kissing her hungrily.

It was different from the way Ben had kissed her.

Dean kissed her softly, giving her space, but desperately, as if he needed her to survive.

“Lizzie,” he sighed, a hand of his moving around her waist to pull her closer.

He moved her slowly, until she was laying on the couch with him on top of her, and Lizzie push her hand under his clothes, pushing his shirt up.

Dean pulled away for a moment,

“We should-” he looked at her. “Lizzie, we’re drunk.”

“No we’re not,” she shook her head, kissing his lips again.

Dean kissed her lips back eagerly.

“Fuck me,” she whimpered. “Please, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder, and pushed her shirt up, pulling it over her head.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he kissed her neck. “Just be quiet for me, alright? Can’t let them hear you.”

She nodded, and he looked down at her body with a smirk on his lips.

“Such cute little tits,” he cooed, kissing the middle of her chest.

Lizzie squirmed, flushing and feeling her cunt warm and wet.

“Dean,” she whined.

“So cute,” he praised her, and licked her nipple. “You’re such a cute little thing, aren’t you, Lizzie?”

She whimpered, trying to pull his shirt up.

“I wanna see you too,” she pleaded.

Dean sat back, pulling his shirt and tossing it down to the floor near them.

He looked a little softer than Ben, less chiselled, but strong nonetheless.

He kissed the way down her body and then up again, kissing her lips, and she felt him moving over her.

“Hey,” he pulled back suddenly. “When was the last time you got tested?”

She blinked, a little confused.

Tested.

“How long has it been since you last had sex?” he asked.

Lizzie opened and closed her mouth.

She could lie.

Lying was easy.

“It’s… been a while,” she squeaked. “I’m clean.”

Dean squinted a little.

“How long?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip, and he raised his chin slowly before kissing down her neck.

“Are you a little virgin, little Miss?” he bit her earlobe.

Lizzie squirmed, blushing, and whined when he put a hand between her legs.

“Is this why your cunt is so wet just by my kisses?” he pulled her panties aside, pushing his finger between her folds.

“Yes,” she squeaked, unable to keep the lie to herself.

His hand squeezed her more and Dean pulled away, looking at her with a darkened gaze.

She was shocked when he tore her panties.

“They are my favourite!” Lizzie protested.

“I’ll buy you more,” Dean pinched her clit, making her moan and jump. “I’ll buy you a ton more.”

He kissed her to shut her up before kissing down her neck.

Then her chest.

Down to her stomach.

And then her pussy.

“Dean?” she asked, unsure.

He looked up at her and simply stuck out his tongue, licking her folds from her entrance to her clit.

“Let me prep you, little thing,” he hummed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it good.”

She nodded, holding back a whimper, and Dean smirked.

“Be quiet, we don’t want the whole house to hear you.”

He licked her hungrily, and Lizzie had to grab a pillow to muffle her moans.

“So fucking sweet,” he grunted.

He licked and sucked her clit, pushing two fingers into her cunt and spreading them.

His fingers feel so thick, bigger than any toy she’s used, but she was always afraid about putting stuff inside her. It always hurt.

But Dean didn’t.

Her eyes nearly crossed when she arched her hips to his lips, flooded with pleasure.

“Dean,” she pressed the pillow to her mouth. “Please.”

He squeezed her hips tighter, devouring her.

Fuck, she was going to cum.

She was so loose and tipsy she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.

Lizzie came with little whimpers and crying, squirming under him.

Dean crawled up her body while she was still shaking a little, and kissed her lips hungrily again, making her taste her own wetness as his cock nudged between her folds.

“Look at me,” he whispered into her lips.

She obeyed, looking at his face, and Dean was gazing deeply at her face.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly. "We can stop if you want to."

His eyes were so sweet. Dean was so sweet.

“I want you, Dean,” she told him. “I am sure.”

Dean smiled and kissed her lips again, moving a hand down to between her legs, and she felt his cock nudging into her entrance.

He pushed into her slowly moving his nose over hers as he did, biting her lower lip and holding her tight.

It was new.

He was big.

Very big.

Large, stretching her, like nothing had ever done before.

Dean moved closer to her and pushed his face into the crook of her neck as she gripped his shoulder, trying not to make any sound, but Lizzie squealed anyway when he moved his hand to play with her clit, rubbing it tightly.

“Good girl,” he grunted. “Taking my cock so sweetly, all wet for me.”

“Dean,” she whined.

He moved his hips shallowly, rubbing and rubbing, not even moving much, nearly just humping her.

“Wanna feel you cum,” he grunted into her neck. “Sweet little virgin, all needy for me.”

She moaned more, trembling under him, sensitive.

“Gonna eat your pussy every day,” he grunted into her neck. “Devour your little cunt.”

Lizzie closed her eyes, covering her mouth with a hand, near another orgasm. Ben had kissed her stupid earlier, and Dean was finishing the job by fucking her dumb.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he grunted into her ear. “Cum for me and I’ll cum in you, I’ll fill you up and make that virgin cunt all messy.”

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, Dean.”

His lazy thrusts became faster and harder, and Lizzie came again just as he started slamming into her cunt so hard she knew she would be a little bruised later.

Suddenly, he stopped and moaned into her neck, and he came, throbbing in her and filling her in a strange way.

Lizzie was already sleepy when he stopped, and Dean nearly slumped against her before turning her around and laying her on his body.

“Good girl,” Dean squeezed her, cock still in her and hands holding her tight, like he was afraid to let her go. “Just mine.”

. . .

"The Triplets" was posted on Patreon on January 2023. To read it now before anyone else and read the sequels "The Livestream (Ben x Lizzie)", "patience is a virtue (Dean x Lizzie)" and "the pictures (Beau x Lizzie)", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and it helps a lot.

. . .

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thebiggerbear · 9 months

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The Ghosts Are Coming For You Chapter 1 - Beau Arlen x Reader

Pairing: Beau x Female!Reader; Beau x Female!Detective!Reader

A/N: This is my first foray into the character x reader side of writing. I hope it's okay and you guys like it.

To my lovely beta Em, you rock girl!

Disclaimer: Let me just say up front, I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Also, this story is going to take place over a few months. Some things might be delayed or appear illogical to not have been thought of before they take place in the timeline, but it’s purely for story purposes.

Tl;dr: I made shit up.

Warnings: death, graphic descriptions of murder, mention of past sexual assaults, mention of dead body, discussion of dead bodies

Word Count: 7065

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @superrey; @fromcaintodean; @stoneyggirl2; @lacilou; @zepskies; @perpetualabsurdity; @deansbbyx; @syrma-sensei; @globetrotter28; @roseblue373; @angelbabyyy99; @hobby27

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @birdiellie; @illicithallways; @muhahaha303

“Got it, Cap. We’re on our way.”

You made your way over to your partner, Jack Darcy, with your brows raised in question as you handed him his coffee. “New case?”

He gave you an appreciative smile. “Yep. Body found on a property over on Missoula. Cap said we need to get our asses over there asap.”

“Okay,” you sighed, opening the passenger door.

Once you and Jack were settled inside the car, he turned a smirk on you after pulling away from the curb. “What’s wrong, Y/L/N? Getting tired of Homicide already?”

You shrugged half-heartedly, keeping your eyes on the road. “Just another day, another body.”

“You’ve only been working this beat for four months. It can’t be that bad.”

It was that bad. Transferring to Montana from New York, you prepared yourself for small city life, thinking things would slow down since the local population you’d be protecting and serving had drastically reduced from over a million to thousands. Boy, had you been wrong.

“Four months and five years,” you corrected. You’d worked your way up to Homicide in Manhattan but once you got there, as good as you were at it, it wasn’t where you wanted to stay. Hence the transfer to Big Sky Country. You had heard Montana was beautiful and not as chaotically complicated as the Big Apple. So far, only one of those things had proven to be true. Something you thought about as you stared out the window at the clear blue sky.

“Yeah, but, you have to admit, things aren’t as crazy here. We’re lucky to get, what, maybe three cases a week?”

“That’s three too many,” you muttered. In the reflection of your window, you saw Jack roll his eyes but he stayed quiet. In the short time you’d been partnered, he already knew to leave things be when you’d get in this type of mood, which seemed to happen every time you got a new case lately.

The truth was that you were tired — tired of the bodies piling up, tired of the horrors you saw that people could inflict on one another. Not to mention you couldn’t even begin to count how many unsolved homicide cases there were, active and cold. Once you landed here, you noticed the differences right away between your former precinct and your new one, resources and budgets being two of them. Your unit was smaller than your previous one and the bureaucratic bullshit that existed everywhere no matter the location in the country was even different in its own ways. You told yourself that you were making a difference, just like you had back in New York, but lately, that mantra wasn’t cutting it. Unbeknownst to Jack or anyone else in the squad, you were starting to wonder if maybe you should pursue a different path in law enforcement, transfer to a different department. Just like your former partner had urged you to do back when he left. Though, what that could be and if it was even possible, you had no idea, but you were thinking about it.

You opened your window slightly, feeling the crisp air hitting you, and it encouraged you to take a deep breath, ignoring the fact that you were barreling towards yet another murder scene, yet another poor soul that had met with a foul end at someone else’s hand.

Jack listed off the details he had been told so far about the case that had been dropped in your laps, making your eyes close in pain and had you grabbing at your necklace under your shirt. Memories flashed through your mind of a crying family, a picture of a smiling young girl in her high school graduation cap and gown with her proudly holding up her diploma, and a sinister smile from an older man in an interrogation room as his eyes hungrily roved over pictures of the crime scene he was accused of creating. You shook your head to clear your mind and took another deep breath of the Montana air in order to assist in dispeling the thoughts, helping you keep your feet in the present you found yourself in and serving as a reminder to leave the past behind as you had promised yourself you would when you moved out here.

As horrible as this new case sounded, you hoped it wouldn’t be connected to the string of murders you and Jack had been investigating since your arrival.

And almost as if your partner had heard your thoughts, he spoke it into existence. “It might not be connected,” he said hopefully, echoing your own wish. “It might be a standalone. Some random.”

“Could be,” you agreed. “But you know as well as I do that it already sounds like the same MO.”

Jack thought over that for a moment. “We won’t know for sure until we get there and take a look around,” he reminded you. He didn’t want it to be connected anymore than you did.

You nodded and decided to leave it for now, knowing he was right. You needed to get there and start your own investigation; that was the only way to know for certain if this victim would be added to the already sizable file you had sitting on your desk back at the station.

As Jack sped you both towards the scene, you offered up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t need to add this person’s name to your growing list, and that you’d find whoever was responsible. While you were at it, you also prayed for the one thing you asked every single day: for people to stop hurting one another. It might be an impossible thought when there were 8 billion people running around the planet but you still asked nonetheless. If it was answered, you’d be out of a job, yet you would never be so happy to have to look for a new line of work. However, until that prayer was answered or until you made the decision to move on from Homicide, you’d still continue to work the cases and do your best to find answers as well as justice for the victims alongside the loved ones left behind to suffer.

Gripping the pendant on your necklace, you took another deep breath and put your game face on when Jack pulled up to the scene swarming with Helena PD officers and yellow crime scene tape, bordered by curious neighbors and local media. The white sheet instantly caught your eye and you turned to Jack, both of you exchanging a nod before getting out of the car to make your way towards the newest crime scene of your case files list.

You were still inspecting the body when you heard Jack mutter, “Aw, hell.” You glanced up, furrowing your brows in question. He inclined his head towards a Bronco that had just pulled up to the scene.

You turned to see a blonde woman and a man with a Stetson on his head exit the vehicle. The glint of a badge caught your eye from the man’s belt when he moved to close the door. Both he and the woman started glancing around, walking up to one of the officers standing sentry at the surrounding crime scene tape and speaking with him. You exchanged a glance with Jack before returning your attention to the body. “Deputies from the Sheriff’s Department?”

Your precinct had clashed with them before, though clashed was a bit of a strong word. Compared to Manhattan, the two departments played better together in their joint sandbox; still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t the occasional pissing match, especially when there was a possibility of jurisdictions overlapping. You had heard all about it from your coworkers but it rarely ever happened when you and Jack caught a case.

“The sheriff,” Jack clarified, making you gape up at him in surprise before turning to look over the man with the hat and beard again with a more discerning eye.

“He’s…young.” He was definitely not what you expected, and you were even more surprised that he hadn’t driven himself to the scene, idly wondering if his department vehicle was possibly in the shop.

“Youngest they’ve ever had I’ve heard, and a transplant from Texas, too. One of the good ol’ boys.” So, this was the sheriff you’d heard so much about. Who was the blonde then? You watched as the officer the two had been speaking to held up the tape and let them through.

And as if he could read your mind, Jack then added, inclining his head in the blonde’s direction, “That’s his undersheriff, Jenny Hoyt.” You recognized the name. You’d heard of her as well. A bit of a wildcard, that one, and she didn’t play too well with others at times. “She’s a local. Rumor also has it that she gets plenty under the sheriff.” You glared over at your partner. He laughed and threw his hands up. “Hey, I’m just saying that’s the rumor.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to your job. You were studying the shallow scrapes on the back of the woman’s wrist when you heard Jack snapping his gloves off and saw him get up out of the corner of your eye.

“Sheriff,” he greeted. “Jack Darcy, Homicide.”

The man gave him a nod. “Beau Arlen. So, what do we have here?” You could hear the twang coming through. He was from Texas alright.

“37 year old female victim, yet to be identified. Homeowner found her this morning when he was letting his dog out, called us right away.”

“Coroner get a look at her yet?”

“He’s en route. Detective Y/L/N and I are doing the initial workup, we’ll let him take over when he gets here. You know the drill.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Do we have any idea on motive?” Through your peripherals, you saw the undersheriff take off her sunglasses and hold out her hand for gloves. An officer handed her a pair and you could hear the tell-tale snapping.

“None yet. Appears to be a brutal stabbing and her throat was cut. Attack could have happened overnight, while she was walking or waiting for a ride, we’re not sure yet. It’s really too early to tell on motive, but don’t worry, Sheriff, we got it from here.” Jack was giving them just enough info to address what they were seeing while also politely shooing them away. You were grateful for it. You weren’t done examining the body or the scene just yet.

The sheriff chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m sure you do. We heard the call and we were in the area, so we figured we’d drop by and see if you city boys needed any help.”

You bit your lip to keep the wiseass remark you wanted to make from slipping out of your mouth. Jack was right; he sounded like one of the good ol’ boys. He probably meant well but damn did it irritate you when you heard remarks like that, especially when you were mid-investigation onsite. Neither you nor Jack had time for this. Nevertheless, you swallowed down the retort and instead focused on the scene. You had only been here for four months so you were still new, and if you wanted to make a leap somewhere down the line, you needed to play nice and not cause any waves.

In the corner of your vision, Hoyt had bent down on the opposite side of the body, her fingers inspecting the woman’s neck where the more severe gashes were. “Any initial impression on the actual cause of death?”

Okay, fuck playing nice. You weren’t territorial or easily bothered, but other than Jack, you didn’t remember asking for another partner. Any other case you’d have just rolled your eyes and sat back while she did her own workup, entertained at her thinking she would know better than yours or Jack’s experience in homicide, but not today and definitely not this case. “Well, I’m no M.E. but I’d say the huge knife wound to the heart along with the throat slash are pretty good bets for being the culprit. Though we’d have to rule out strangulation based on the ligature marks on her neck, you know, just to be safe.”

“Strangulation, too? That’s overkill,” Hoyt murmured, clearly not picking up on your sarcasm.

“Hence homicide.” You ignored her glare and went back to doing your job. Jack chuckled under his breath at your smartassery.

“Well, we’ll just get out of your way and let you continue playing Coroner then.”

You shrugged, not caring in the least about her attitude. “That’d be great, thanks.” The sooner she cleared out and let you finish doing your job, the better.

She scoffed. “There’s no need to be so—”

“Hoyt,” the sheriff warned. “Play nice. Let’s try and remember we’re all on the same team here.”

You couldn’t help but smirk when the sheriff pulled on her leash. Undersheriff or not, how dare she push her way into your crime scene and start questioning you?

Jack spoke up then. “Sheriff Arlen, Hoyt, this is my partner, Detective Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure,” you ground out, still staring down at the marks on the victim’s neck and the pattern of bruising that was starting to become eerily familiar.

“Likewise,” the sheriff replied. Hoyt stayed silent, her narrowed eyes trained on you.

Jack exchanged glances with the man before clearing his throat. “Anyway, Sheriff, as you can see, we’ve got things well in hand. We appreciate you stopping by, though.”

Beau shot him an amiable smile. “Of course. We’ll get out of your hair. Come on, Hoyt, let’s leave them to it.”

Hoyt never broke her gaze away from you as she got to her feet, snapping off her gloves. You smirked wider, shaking your head in amusement.

Jack’s phone started ringing and he grabbed it. “Sorry, gotta take this.” At Beau waving him off, he immediately picked up the call. “Yeah, Cap? Ah, we’re still going over it but—yeah she’s looking at the body right now. Looks like the attack didn’t happen onsite but she’s confirming that right—.”

“She wasn’t attacked here,” you confirmed for him, never taking your eyes off of the scene in front of you.

“Sorry, Cap, one sec. What was that, Y/L/N?”

You slowly lifted your eyes to his. “She wasn’t killed onsite.” You saw Jack’s shoulders slump slightly and any hope he had held onto when taking Anderson’s call immediately go right out of him. You both already knew as much, the signs of a body dump surrounding the scene, but Jack didn’t want to be the bearer of that news to your captain.

Jack told Captain Anderson he’d call him right back and promptly hung up. “You’re sure?” He asked, sounding deflated.

You gave him a nod, glancing at him somewhat sympathetically. “Positive.”

Your partner sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“What makes you so sure?” Hoyt questioned, her arms crossed and scowl trained on you.

So begins the pissing match. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you pointed to the body. “What’s the one thing missing from this scene that should be everywhere?”

Both the blonde and the sheriff quickly scanned the area. “Blood,” the man answered.

“Blood,” you confirmed. “There are no footprints or drag marks around the body. No ID, barefoot, clothes are slightly torn and oversaturated with blood but otherwise holding up well, blood and mud-stained soles of her feet on a well manicured lawn after a dry evening with no blood drops or trails anywhere, decomp is more advanced than it should be if she died last night…she was dumped here.” You then pointed to the shallow cuts you found near the victim’s hands and wrists. “And she fought like hell.” You let your eyes linger on the victim for a moment, shaking your head sadly, and got up with a sigh. “She was tortured for a while before she was killed.”

“But why dump the body here? On some random person’s lawn in the middle of the city where the killer could have easily been seen or caught on camera? Why not leave her somewhere she’d never be found, where they wouldn’t have to risk themselves being seen?”

Your gaze moved over to Jack, both of you already knowing the answer to all of that, and he heaved his own heavy sigh.

“To send a message,” he answered.

“A message? To whom?” Hoyt asked.

Your eyes never leaving Jack’s, you snapped your gloves off, both of you opting not to share anything outside of the department. If Hoyt wanted answers, she could call Anderson and he could field that one. “That’s what we’re going to try to find out. Darcy, let’s start sifting through missing person reports from the last few days to see if any match her description.”

“She could have been held longer than that,” Hoyt piped in.

You turned a glare on her. “No, she couldn’t have.” What was with this blonde? Her boss who outranked her already told her to leave it alone. So why couldn’t she just leave you to your crime scene that you clearly knew more about than she did and just be gone already? One glance at the sheriff studying the two of you intently answered that for you. She was trying to show you up in front of him or show off for him, you weren’t quite sure which.

“What makes you so sure?” Hoyt was outright smirking at you now, content in her attempt to ruffle your feathers.

“As I said, the clothes are in excellent condition despite being soiled and there’s also the state of decomposition of the body. Had she been held longer than the time frame I just mentioned and say, killed yesterday, the state of the clothes would be much worse and they would have started deteriorating sooner. Not to mention her pedicure was not that old. Cuticles are pressed and intact.”

“She could have touched it up herself before she was taken. Or gotten it done right before.”

“Hoyt.” Beau gave her a look when she turned her smirk on him. “Let it go. They’ve got it.”

“That’s alright.” You took a step closer, staring down Hoyt and smirking right back. “Undersheriff Hoyt, if you would like to take over the investigation, by all means.” You waved a hand at the scene in front of you, ignoring Jack’s wide eyes and the motions he made with his hand to get you to rescind that offer. “If you’d like, I can make sure the State is made aware that you are now heading this case.”

“Wait, State’s involved?” The sheriff asked in surprise that then turned dubious.

“They are,” you answered before Jack could, never looking away from the blonde.

“Already?” Hoyt asked, suspicion clear as day on her face.

“Already,” you confirmed, no hesitation. “So shall I call them and tell them that this is now your case?”

Hoyt’s smirk had dropped long ago and the scowl was back in place. She considered you for a moment and then stuck her nose up in the air, downright glaring at you. But she didn’t say a word.

The sheriff took note of yours and Hoyt’s standoff as well as Jack’s anxious expression, then cleared his throat. “Like I said before, we’ll leave you to it.”

You nodded curtly, more than satisfied at the turn of events, and glanced back at Jack. “Call Anderson and update him. We’re looking at another one.”

He gave you a somber nod and moved away to do just that.

You couldn’t resist turning back to Hoyt with a syrupy sweet smile. “Like I said before, a pleasure.” Your smile faded and your eyes burned into hers as you spun on your heel to walk away, knowing that was the end of that little dick measuring contest and who had won. As entertaining as it had all been, you had work to do.

“Hold up a sec,” the man next to her called out.

You took a deep breath and turned, seeing Hoyt and Sheriff Arlen exchanging a glance. The latter locked eyes with you and put his hands on his hips. “You said it was another one. Just how many victims have you had show up with this MO?”

Hoyt arched her brows expectantly at you, waiting for you to answer.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss any ongoing investigations in the Helena Police Department. If you have any questions, you can direct them to my captain. Jack can give you the number.” You then walked away, heading back to the car, more than eager to take a minute for yourself and collect your thoughts under the guise of needing to make a call. You couldn’t believe you and Jack had yet another victim on your hands this soon. The guy you were after didn’t appear to be slowing down at all; if anything, he was picking up his pace, and that worried you.

It shouldn’t have surprised you when the sheriff was suddenly next to you, matching your stride. “Bureaucratic bullshit aside, I need to know, are we dealing with something nasty here?”

“Nastier than someone brutally torturing and killing another person, then dumping the body somewhere she’s sure to be found so another person can be terrorized?”

“Good point. But you know what I mean. I saw you and Dorsey back there, I know there’s something you’re not saying. Are we talking about a serial killer or something else?” He shook his head when you didn’t answer him. “Come on, Detective Y/L/N, tell me what we’re dealing with here.”

You let out a breath and stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. “It’s Darcy. And we are not talking about anything or dealing with anything together. As I said, if you have any questions, you can direct them to—”

“Your Captain, yeah, I got it.” He took a deep breath and his hands were back on his belt, green eyes pleading with you though there was a sharp edge to them. “Listen, if there’s something serious going on in my county, I need to know about it. If the shoe was on the other foot, we’d give you the professional courtesy, you know that.” You had to admit that he had a point, though you weren’t exactly sure how he didn’t already know about the growing threat, from local media coverage to small town folks talking. You may have oversold State’s involvement earlier to get Hoyt off of your backs so you could continue to do your jobs without further interference, but nothing could be further from the truth. Captain Anderson as well as the Chief were doing everything they could to keep things tight and close to the vest. A serial killer on the loose in this area wasn’t exactly unheard of; there had been the Bleeding Heart killer that evaded capture for years until recently. However, your bosses were under the strict impression that people didn’t need to worry about another potential problem, possibly breaking through the front doors of their homes, or abducting and killing their neighbors quite so soon. It would look like they couldn’t get a handle on their city, people would be too scared to leave their homes, people would stop coming through here, and Helena would become known as a haven for serial killers. At least that’s all of the bullshit reasoning you’d heard so far.

You personally disagreed with it all; you had learned first hand back in New York how valuable it could be to the investigation to keep the local population on alert, and how it might help reduce the number of victims. It could even provide a break in the case. Out here, in a close knit community such as this one, well, public awareness was not always viewed the same way hence all the bullshit justifications in keeping it quiet. At least as far as you had seen with this particular string of murders, anyway.

But even with your bosses working hard to keep a lid on things, how had this sheriff or his department not somehow become aware of what was going on right under their very noses?

Your gaze flickered back to the scene, seeing Jack talking with Hoyt, most likely in the same position you were in since the sheriff duo obviously decided to try to divide and conquer, before it landed back on the man in front of you. Seeing the concern layering his brow, his expression determined, you decided the hell with it. You’d made the case to Anderson more than once for things to go public, to lean on State more, to compare notes with other law enforcement such as the Sheriff’s Department to see if there were any other patterns or victims you were unaware of, missing or dead, or maybe even reported attempts at abduction or someone seeing something strange that could help turn the tide. Yet each time, you’d been denied and politely warned to keep your mouth shut, your head down, and to focus on your job. Well, you were already thinking of a change; what could it hurt to let this earnest looking sheriff know what was really going on? Perhaps he’d even do something with the limited information you could give him and jurisdiction squabbles aside, would it really be so bad to have another pair of eyes on the lookout for the same things you were? You didn’t think so. “Bureaucratic bullshit aside, nothing has been officially determined yet. For this case or..any others.”

His eyes tightened. “How many are we looking at so far?”

You bit your lip and turned to look at the officers surrounding the area. “Five.”

“And she’s the sixth?”

“If it’s determined that this fits that MO, then yes.”

“Based on your previous cases, does it?”

You gave him a look, staying silent. He knew you couldn’t answer that outright.

The sheriff let out a sigh and dropped his gaze to the ground. “Span of time?”

“Four in the last four months.” His head snapped up, his mouth hanging open. “That’s since I’ve been here. One was found right before I showed up.”

He nodded and glanced back towards the scene. “Goddamn,” he said under his breath. After a moment, he turned back to you. His features started to relax slightly and the beginning of a smile began to form on his lips. “So, that’s why I haven’t seen you around before. I was wondering. Four months, huh? How’re you liking it so far?”

You glanced back in the direction of the body. “Seriously considering a change of address,” you muttered. “Maybe something tropical. People seem happier near beaches. I’m thinking it’s gotta be the sand, bikinis, and free-flowing booze. That or people are just too exhausted from being in the sun all day. I think that’d suit me just fine.”

A warm laugh escaped him as his bright smile graced you, reaching up to his eyes this time. It made you nearly smile in response, it was that infectious. He was certainly attractive and he had the whole sexy cowboy sheriff vibe working for him, complete with hat. For a split second, you wondered what could have happened had you met him at one of the local bars some night where your introduction to one another would have been vastly different. You tried to picture yourself line dancing at some country bar he might frequent but couldn’t. You’d tried it once but never really cared for it. You were more of a swayer and every so often (with a certain amount of liquid courage or lust coursing through your veins) a grinder. Instead, you might have grabbed his hat off of his head to get his attention and plopped it on yours, uttering the cheesy line of “Save a horse, ride a cowboy” or something to keep his focus squarely on you for the rest of the night. Before you could get too carried away in your thoughts, seeing an officer moving past you reminded you of why you were here. You needed to concentrate and get your head back into the game.

“Oh, come on,” he urged, thankfully completely oblivious to what you had been thinking. “It’s only been four months! It took me at least six to settle in when I moved up here. You’ve got to give it at least that. I do copy you on the beaches thing, though. Definitely a slower pace.”

“Right? Though it’s gotta be a real pain in the ass to collect evidence in between tourists and the saltwater. You know what? Maybe I should just change careers. I’ll become a lifeguard. Bring some Baywatch to the Bahamas.” Oh no, that sounded flirty, hadn’t it? You hadn’t meant for it to sound flirty.

His eyes lit up slightly but his amiable smile stayed the same. “I have no doubt in my mind you could.”

You nearly smirked but forced yourself to look disappointed. “But then again, there are sharks in the Bahamas, so maybe my Baywatch lifeguard audition will have to wait until, say, never.”

“Well, that’s a crying shame. Just when I thought I’d finally make the plane ride to the Bahamas.” His voice had dipped in register and his gaze burned into you, making you almost shiver. It was very obvious what he was thinking and you were thankful you were surrounded by several officers, your partner included, because there was no telling what you’d do if it was just the two of you and he looked at you like that. You had a very good idea of what he’d do and you found that you didn’t mind all that much, if you two weren’t on the job and he wasn’t already involved with someone else.

You forced yourself to focus, holding a hand up. “Alright, slow your roll there, Hasselhoff. You want to swim with the sharks, you go right ahead. Me? I’m staying on dry land, thank you very much.” He laughed again and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms, thankful that you had been able to change the course of that conversation. “So, six months, huh? From Texas I take it?”

His smile got brighter if that were even possible. “The accent that obvious?”

“The accent, the hat, the whole cowboy vibe you’ve got going on.” You gestured to him with a hand.

“You got something against cowboys?” He teased.

“Nope. It’s just that we don’t see too many of those in the Big Apple.”

“New York, huh? Should’ve known. You’ve got the whole SVU vibe working for you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again. Like you hadn’t heard that one before. “Not every female detective from Manhattan is named Olivia Benson and not all of us work out of SVU.”

He held his hands up, still smiling. “I didn’t mean anything by it, darlin’.” At your raised brows, he chuckled. “Just a friendly term where I come from. I didn’t mean anything by that either.”

“Uh huh.” You spun on your heel and continued your trek to the car, nodding your thanks at the officer who lifted the crime scene tape for you to pass under. The sheriff continued to dog your steps which made you smile discreetly.

“So, tell me, how do people on that tiny island live all squished together like that?” He wondered.

“I don’t know, one and a half million people somehow manage to figure it out every day.”

“One and a half million? Son of a bitch.” You had just reached the vehicle when he turned to you. “Who am I kidding? I come from Houston and we have even more people there. Except we’re spread out and have more room to roam.” He chuckled, expecting you to find that as funny as he did.

You gave him a polite smile and opened your door, waiting. “Was there anything else you needed, Sheriff?”

“Please, call me Beau. And yeah, there was one more thing.” You arched a brow up at him and his grin melted into a different smile altogether, making something flip inside your stomach. Uh oh. You were back in that murky territory from a moment ago. “I was wondering if you’d let me take you to dinner.”

Your gaze snapped to where Jack was currently talking on his phone. Hoyt wasn’t too far from him, watching your every move, you swung your head back to find the sheriff staring at you expectantly, the same smile from before sitting on his bearded face. You decided not to beat around the bush. “I was under the impression that you were…otherwise engaged.”

His brows began to furrow in confusion. “How do you mean?”

You inclined your head back in Hoyt’s direction. He quickly glanced over and then back to you. “What, Hoyt? No, we’re just partners. She’s my undersheriff and a friend, nothing more.” You shot him a look and he laughed. “I’m serious, there’s nothing going on. I’m free as a bird. So, how about that date?”

You bit your lip in thought, trying to think of the best way to politely turn him down. You really, really wanted to accept, to see where this might go, even if it was just a one time thing, but the way Hoyt was eyeing him and you right now, there was bound to be trouble there, even if it was only a simple dinner between you and the cowboy. Which, as Beau had said before, was a crying shame. He seemed nice enough but you really couldn’t afford to make waves, not if you planned to secure another transfer after such a short stint up here. You would have to politely decline his invitation. “I’m probably going to be working late, especially with this new case. Thank you for the offer, though.”

He tilted his head, smiling wider at you. “Come on, you gotta eat sometime. Besides, what kind of sheriff would I be if I didn’t show a newcomer such as yourself some of the great things Helena has to offer? Like the steakhouse I’d like to take you to. They have the best ribeye in the whole county, hand to God.”

You could see that he expected that to do the trick. So, you turned the tables on him. You closed the door and crossed your arms. “Texas, didn’t you already pump me for information about this case? I gave you what I could. There’s nothing else I can give you.”

His eyes flashed at your last statement. Uh oh. “I doubt that’s true but be that as it may, I’m not asking you to dinner to talk about work. As a matter of fact, I have a strict policy during dinner: no work-talk. So, what do you say, darlin’? Let me take you out?”

You glared up at him. “Will you drop the darlin’?”

“If you really want me to,” he agreed.

“I really want you to.”

“Consider it done. May I call you by your first name then?”

“I’d prefer it to darlin’.”

“Alright. Y/N. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’ll pick you up at your place, say around…7?”

Shit, were you really going to do this? You could not afford to make waves. There wasn’t really anything stopping you. You two worked for different departments, precincts even. He wasn’t your superior and while he outranked you, you weren’t working with him. He had addressed the Hoyt issue head on, assuring you they weren’t involved. You two were grown adults, able to just have a nice meal together. Besides, you hadn’t had a good steak in a while and what could it hurt? Although, you couldn’t have him come to your house because you were pretty sure you’d never make it past the porch, not with the way he had been eyeing you up earlier, not with how often your thoughts headed in that direction.

You noticed him lick his lips as he waited for your answer. It easily could have been a nervous tic, thinking you’d might turn him down, but your brain zoned in on the action. His smile was warm, infectious, and you hadn’t terribly minded your little banter before. You could probably have a somewhat decent time and get along fairly well. Before you knew it, you were agreeing to let him take you to dinner. “Make it 7:30, outside the precinct. I’ll be done around then.”

When he grinned happily, you felt that same flip-type feeling from earlier. Maybe dinner with someone other than Jack and something other than takeout on the fly wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you were promising the man anything other than a meal filled with conversation. And he had been right, you could eat, though you’d never admit it to him. It’s not like you were jumping right into bed with him…hence why you asked him to pick you up at the precinct.

“7:30 it is. I’ll see you then, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile and turned to walk away.

“See you then, Texas.”

He tipped his hat in your direction, his eyes taking forever to leave you, and headed back over to the scowling blonde. Figures — the first guy to officially ask you out since your move here would be within the vicinity of a crime scene, not to mention the whole little flirtation moment. That was just your luck, wasn’t it? A part of you even wondered if you were normal for accepting his offer at said scene, not knowing a thing about him or once thinking it odd that he chose this to be his moment after seeing a dead woman who had been stabbed repeatedly by some sick bastard.

You shook your head, unsure of what the hell you had just gotten yourself into, thinking your whole life was a weird mess, so what was one more strange thing? You sat inside the passenger seat of the car, laying your head back against the headrest as thoughts of this case ran through your mind.

Another one. How the hell was that even possible? There were now six victims with the same MO. Knife to the chest, ending in the heart, after their throat had been slashed but before they completely bled out. And this was after they’d been tortured for hours, days even, where they’d been repeatedly strangled to the point of unconsciousness and then brought back so more horrors and pain could be inflicted on them. It reminded you of a series of homicides you’d worked back in Manhattan, with an eerily similar MO; the difference was that those victims were sexually assaulted, asphyxiated with a plastic bag over their heads repeatedly, and their bodies were dropped off at different anchor points, not some random location where the body was guaranteed to be discovered within a short amount of time and it would put the killer at risk to be easily spotted by passersby or security cameras. Not to mention, you had closed the Manhattan case; the bastard was still sitting in jail — you’d checked.

You slipped your necklace from underneath your shirt and began to move the pendant back and forth as you thought it over some more. The victims here in Montana matched one description: a woman in her mid to late 30’s, usually turned out to be single or at the least casually dating, nothing serious. She always had Y/H/C hair, working hard in her chosen career or job, and she appeared to have been a decent dresser while doing the upkeep required for her fingernails and toenails. That was really what prompted your hunch about the pedicure that you couldn’t tell Hoyt, and let’s face it, wouldn’t tell her unless you were forced to. The territorial blonde had definitely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

But the New York victims had been women of various sizes, races, ages, and stations in life. One was a sex worker, one was a single mom, one was a lawyer from the Upper East side, one had been a late teen fresh out of high school… You closed your eyes in pain, gripping your pendant tightly. That had been one of your toughest cases to date. You didn’t like to think about it but that had been the one to light a fire deep within you to do whatever it took to hunt down the sick bastard who had done that to her. You worked tirelessly with your partner, trying to fit the pieces together, and run down the very little clues you had. In the end, it had all paid off. You made sure you were present that day in court for that son of a bitch’s sentencing.

You opened your eyes and thought back to your current case. Every detail of this scene fit the details of previous scenes to a tee, minus the location where the body had been dumped. But the why of the dumping seemed to fit into a pattern. Something kept prodding at you, pulling at your instincts. Something was off here. You knew you were dealing with a serial but something kept pushing at you about Manhattan… It had to be the similarities. It was only natural for you to recall your experience when you saw similar MO’s in trying to figure out who was behind the killing and what their motivation was. Yes, that was it.

You were interrupted in your reverie by your cell phone ringing. You answered it on the first ring. “Yeah?”

“I need you up here,” Jack requested.

“On my way.” You hung up and took a deep breath, slipping your necklace back under your shirt, and stepped out of the car, intent on heading back up to where your partner was. You both needed to figure this out and fast. You knew this woman was about to be added to the list of murder victims that had been the work of a serial you were currently tracking down, and based on how frequently he was doing this, he was only just getting started.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen #beau x reader #beau x female reader #beau x you #beau x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #the ghosts are coming for you chapter 1 #thebiggerbear

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clangenrising · 7 months

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Month 7 - Leaffall

“They’ll love you,” Smokyrose soothed as she wound her tail with Ghost’s, leading him across the grasslands towards the RisingClan camp.

“I know, I know,” Ghost sighed, leaning his head on top of hers. “I’m just… nervous.”

“What for?” asked Smokyrose genuinely.

“About the kits, I guess?” he shrugged.

“Oh?” she licked his cheek curiously. She had told him just an hour or so ago and he had taken it well, if a bit surprised. She had rubbed herself all over him, vibrating joyfully, and he had laughed and held her close. She couldn’t have been happier. She had eventually convinced him to come meet her Clanmates, even though he seemed reluctant. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reasons were.

“I’m sure things will be fine,” she added, “Sagetooth is a skilled Healer, I’ll be in great paws, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She wondered if the city cats had their own healers or if they just had to hope they never got ill.

“It’s not that,” he shook his head. “I’m… I’ve never been a father before.” Quickly, he amended, “I mean, I’m sure I’ve had kits, but it’s never been… a responsibility for me before. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

“I have faith,” she purred. “You’ll make a great dad.”

“If you say so, Miss Smoke.” He chuckled a little and placed a few licks on her forehead, causing her purr to deepen in her chest.

Soon, the camp was upon them. Smokyrose squeezed herself against his muscled shoulder in encouragement and they descended into the dip where she had always made her home. Ghost’s mouth was open wide to scent the well worn scents of the cats who lived there. Smokyrose looked around and saw that Pantherhaze and Songdust were sunning on the roof of the warriors’ den.

Raising her tail she gave a tiny meow to get their attention. “Songdust! Pantherhaze! Look who I brought ‘round.” Songdust sat up, squinting in the sun, but immediately brightened at the sight of them.

“Hey!” she purred, rolling to her paws. “If it isn’t your fancy new beau! Nice to meet you.” She dropped onto the grass to meet them, tail swishing gently. Ghost dipped his head in her direction.

“You must be the famous Songdust,” he purred and Smokyrose nearly swooned at how suave he was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Smokyrose lifted her head proudly, almost hoping that Songdust would be jealous now that she’d met him.

“Wow, you were right,” laughed Songdust, brows lifting. “He is quite the gentleman.”

“Isn’t he just?” Smokyrose hummed fondly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Pantherhaze said, padding up with wide amber eyes.

“Pantherhaze,” Smokyrose said, “this is Ghost. Ghost, Pantherhaze.”

Ghost dipped his head again. “The pleasure is mine.”

“So, Ghost,” Songdust asked, shifting into a more comfortable stance, “are you coming to stay then?”

Ghost chuckled reticently, “We’ll have to see, won’t we.”

“Well, hey!” Goldenstar’s voice called from the other side of camp. “Who’s the handsome stranger?”

Smokyrose looked over to the Stoneperch where the leader was emerging from her den and grinned. “Goldenstar! Come meet the father of my kits.” Turning to Ghost, she said, “This is Goldenstar, she’s the leader of the Clan.”

As Goldenstar approached, he bowed his head deeply. “A pleasure to meet you, your excellence.”

Goldenstar laughed, eyes sparkling. “Wow, are all city cats as polite as you two?” she looked over her shoulder and frowned.

“Pardon?” Ghost glanced at Smokyrose, confused. She tilted her head in kind, not having seen anyone behind the tortie even if she could infer who Goldenstar was looking for.

“Sorry,” Goldenstar said, face falling a bit. “I thought that…” She shook her head a bit and pulled her attention back to the cats in front of her and put a smile back on. “Not important. There’s no need for such formalities. We’re all friends here.”

“I see,” hummed Ghost. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you regardless. My name is Ghost.”

“Ghost,” she nodded. “Well, welcome to RisingClan, Ghost. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, get to know the place.”

“I’m trying to convince him to stay but he’s being stubborn about it,” Smokyrose purred, pressing against his side again. She smirked up at him and he smiled as his gaze dipped toward the ground.

“Regrettably, I have obligations in the city, but I’m happy to stay for a bit.”

“That’s too bad,” said Goldenstar.

“Come along,” Smokyrose said, pushing his shoulder, “I want to introduce you to Oddstripe.”

“Ah,” he chuckled, “excuse me, then.”

Smokyrose purred and pushed him towards the Healer’s den. As they went, she whispered, “You’ll have to excuse Sagetooth, though. She’s a bit of a curmudgeon.”

“Good to know,” he whispered back and Smokyrose’s stomach fluttered. She felt like an apprentice again, full of energy and mischief and excitement. She even dared to hope that somehow she would be able to change Ghost’s mind and he would stay for good. We’ll have to see, won’t we? she thought to herself.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats oc #warriors #warrior cats #warriors oc #clangenrising #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Smokyrose #Ghost #Goldenstar #Songdust #Pantherhaze #just barely lol

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ncityprincess · 1 year

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anything for you, princess 👑

pairing: actor/sugar daddy? jaehyun x influencer?/sugar baby? female reader

plot: tldr; reader gets flown out by actor jaehyun and they have sexy time for the first time 😁

MINORS DNI

note: this is my first ever story. i’ve been sitting on this idea for a minute and decided to go for it. this is extremely self indulgent. happy reading! 👑🍭

she woke up earlier than her alarm had, given she’d spent the past eight or so hours tossing and turning in bed anticipating the next day. she shot out of bed and started her day with one thing on her mind: him.

him being her latest beau jeong jaehyun. it had all started a few months back. it was spring time, and she decided she wanted to bring some romantic energy to her instagram page. feeling flirty, the woman had uploaded a photo of herself holding a single red rose, adorned in a blood red satin dress that flattered her curvy figure. nothing too out of the ordinary, as she frequently posted pretty pictures of herself.

apparently mr. jeong, seoul’s most popular up-and-coming actor, felt the dress flattered her too. the oh-so handsome star wasn't the type to use social media outside of work purposes, as it wasn't really his thing, but the picture had innocently landed on his explore page. anyone with eyes would have clicked on the picture too–she was beautiful! even though he knew dating could interfere with his career, he still felt like there was something about her. he took the chance and sent her a harmless message. i mean, it’s worth a shot right? you were too alluring to pass up.

“i’d send you 11 more to make it a dozen, beautiful🌹”

she read the message with a bit of a shy, but curious smirk.

that was a good one she had to admit.

she typically wasn’t one to read her message requests, after all, those guys usually weren’t her type. creep after creep. loser after loser. no thanks.

but him.

there was something about him.

she clicked on his profile picture to see who this @_jeongjaehyun guy was. she had to admit his follower count was pretty daunting, she'd never been approached by someone like this before, but she continued to investigate further, wanting to see what else this jeong jaehyun had to offer. based on his bio he was an actor in korea. she hadn’t been too familiar with korean films, but she figured he had to be pretty talented if he had this many supporters. scrolling through his profile made her even more intrigued as she dug further. tons of behind the scenes footage from his films, pictures of trophies he’d collected from numerous award shows, mysterious and endearing videos of him riding his bike around the city with romantic music playing. jeong jaehyun was an enigma. she wanted him.

he was annoyingly handsome, had romantic features, an entire catalog of acting experience. she definitely liked what she saw, but she just had to dig just a little more. she eventually accepted the message request and thought of a witty enough reply, not wanting to seem too bold.

“maybe i’d let you 💋”

from there everything fell into place. he was perfect. he was equal parts suave and dorky. he had the most elaborate, yet elementary jokes. he spoiled her ROTTEN. christian louboutin, prada, la perla, chanel. she named it, he bought it. he wanted her to know how sincere his feelings about her were, and chose to show it through sending her pretty little presents every so often.

"beautiful girls deserve the most beautiful things" he would say.

the months went on and on...

he understood her, he listened to her, they had a deep and genuine connection. even with her being in new york city and him in seoul, they utilized every bit of free time to connect. face time became their norm over the past few months, and while it was convenient, it just wasn’t enough. they needed to be with one another in person.

so it was settled: he bought her a first class ticket to seoul, arranged to have a driver pick her up from her apartment and drive her to the airport, sent his own chauffeur to drive her to his pent house apartment in seoul, and the two would finally meet. because he had an afternoon schedule around the time she would land in seoul, he left a spare key for the front desk along with her full name, granting her access to his apartment. she felt a huge responsibility being left alone with his luxurious apartment, but she also felt comforted knowing he trusted her that much.

“i’ll see you soon, baby”

she grabbed her packed belongings, most of which being the pretty presents jaehyun bought for her during these few months of them talking. she figured he would love to see her strutting around in the gifts he bought for her. she endured the extremely long flight from new york city to seoul, knowing each minute would bring her closer to her lover.

once the driver dropped her off at his penthouse, she grabbed the key from the receptionist after giving her full name, and made her way up to the 127th floor. she stared out of the glass elevator windows, looking out at the sea of city lights. with each floor the elevator ascended her heart raced faster and faster.

he had told her to make herself at home. “my house is your house baby, do whatever you need to do to make yourself comfortable while i’m out. i left my card incase you need anything. see you soon.”

she set her red luggage down and made her way into his bathroom. he had left out a towel and wash cloth for her, along with any toiletries she may have needed. she stepped into the luxurious rainfall shower and fantasized about how the next few weeks would go…

she had just finished applying her lip gloss when she heard the front door open. she looked over herself one last time in the big full length mirror in jaehyun’s closet and quickly made her way to the entryway. he pulled the door open and immediately made eye contact with her. they stared at each other passionately before he set his keys down and quickly pulled her in for a kiss. no words needed to be exchanged, it was time to let their bodies speak for them. she reached up and grabbed his face, kissing him back with urgency. she moaned into his mouth, releasing months of pent up energy. the moment she had been waiting for was finally here. he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, inadvertantly knocking off her red bottoms he’d gifted her at one point.

“gosh jae, i’m happy to see you too” she giggled

he smiled against her lips and smacked her lightly on her ass. he finally made it to his bedroom and tossed her onto his silk bed sheets. she squealed when he dove right on top of her not wasting any time. his hands made his way to the hem of her crop top and ripped it off of her. he pulled back from her a little bit to look down at her riled up form.

“pretty, i bought this for you too huh?” he chuckled, tracing the top of her red lacy bra where her cleavage spilled out. “uh huh” she moaned. he grabbed her hand to help her sit up so he could take her bra off. he pulled off the rest of her clothes, along with the matching cheeky lace panties and gently laid her back down. he went right back into kissing her plump lips. the two lovers put their all into their kisses, making up for all the lost time. the months of phone calls, face times, letters, postcards, texts, naughty texts—the works. as amazing as these last few months were, nothing beats this feeling right now. finally being able to put their hands on one another. his hands massaged her large breasts, making electricity race through her body. his kisses slowly creeped down her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her décolletage, finally landing on her boobs. he kissed and fondled her chest with intense admiration.

“you’re perfect”

she sighed and slowly tilted her head back into the pillows, fully immersing herself into the moment. all the nights she spent desperately yearning for his hands to explore her body and now she was living it. it was so much more than she could have ever imagined. he focused his tongue on her left nipple, swirling it around slowly. he wanted to take his time with her. savor the taste of her. the feeling of her. his beautiful girl. she moaned softly, running her manicured nails through his soft locks, encouraging him to keep going. his hand started to explore her body a little further, aiming for the spot she needed him most. his fingers softly landed on her clit, making her heart speed up. he looked up at her with her nipple still in his mouth and he gave her a cheeky grin.

“this ok with you, princess?”

she nodded eagerly, grabbing his hand and placing more pressure onto her clit, urging him to do something. he chuckled softly, taking the hint, and spread her plush thighs apart a little more. he wanted to make sure he had plenty of room to make her feel real good. he rubbed his fingers up and down her folds, getting his fingers wet with her arousal. she couldn’t believe how wet she was already. he made a noise of approval at her wetness and eventually his middle finger made it’s way into her warm hole. she instantly felt herself flutter against his finger. it had been so long since she’d been touched, it was all so overwhelming. she bucked her hips against his hand, asking for more. she whined loudly when his ring finger joined his middle inside of her. he kept his pace steady, admiring how gone she already was.

“you like this baby?” jaehyun asked sweetly, with a hint of condescension.

“mmm so good jae, i want you so fucking bad” she moaned.

his fingers picked up the pace, hitting her sweet spot repeatedly. he pounded her with such force that she began rocking against his fingers greedily. she was so close to letting go. eventually she hit her peak and let out drawn out, lewd sound of satisfaction. she swore she was seeing stars.

“atta girl”

she panted, making her chest raise up and down as she came down from her orgasm. as satisfied as she felt, she needed MORE. she was insatiable. she needed to feel all of him and she needed it NOW. she shot up and crashed her lips against his. jaehyun hadn’t taken his clothes off the whole time, leaving her aching to see him. she unbuttoned his dress shirt hurriedly and pushed it off of his broad shoulders. she pulled away to admire his muscular form. she couldn’t believe he was all hers. he gave her a smirk, gesturing to his body.

“like what you see, princess?”

with a bat of her eyelashes and a sweet smile, she unbuckled his belt and tossed it somewhere, then pulled off his pants and underwear in one go. jaehyun sat up against the headboard with his legs out straight, while she kneeled perpendicular to him, leaning over to touch his dick. she grazed the tip of his thick member with her finger tips. she leaned down and gave the tip a few sweet kisses and he cooed at her, stroking her hair. she finally licked a stripe from the base to the top of his dick and went to work with her mouth. she swirled her tongue all around his dick, wanting to make him feel good. he groaned and spit out a “good girl” through clenched teeth. she looked up at him with the most sultry bedroom eyes she could muster. her dark, smokey makeup she applied earlier definitely helped. he made a makeshift ponytail with his fist and bunched up her hair, not pulling but just holding it there. soon after he pulled her off of his dick, not wanting to cum that way.

“fuck, lay down baby” jaehyun said and got back on top of her. he placed a pillow under her head and her hips, making sure she was comfortable. he gave her one last kiss on her nose before lining his tip up with her entrance, slowly pushing himself into her warm hole. they both moaned out in unison, enjoying the intimacy of this moment. he began to pick up the pace, making her squeak and grab onto his strong biceps. her boobs bounced with each strong thrust, driving jaehyun absolutely insane. his eyes flickered from her beautiful fucked out face, back to her soft, voluptuous body.

“you feel so good baby, can’t believe i finally get to have you like this. so perfect” jaehyun said while pounding her even harder. her hold on his biceps became stronger as she needed something to anchor herself onto. her moans got louder and louder, as did the sounds of their bodies crashing together. he grabbed her leg, placed it onto his shoulder, pressed a gentle kiss on her calf, then on her ankle, and finally the sole of her foot. she felt her soul leave her body as she begged him for more.

“please baby pleaseee” she whined.

he grabbed her other leg and placed it on his shoulder and thrusted at a deeper angle, really hitting the perfect spot.

“fuck jae keep fucking me like that please baby”

he looked down at where their bodies collided and noticed her hand sneak down the front of her body. she played with her clit, desperately trying to reach her peak again. he grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them at the sides of her head and interlaced their fingers. their foreheads touched and they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. their lips met again, this time the kiss was passionate and needy. desperately wanting to finish each other off. finally, she felt the familiar sensation of an orgasm arriving and she let go, moaning her man’s name for the whole world to hear. he finished soon after with a guttural sound, emptying everything he had to offer into her. they laid there in bliss, waiting for their heart rates to return back to normal.

jaehyun was about to pull out to get a bath started for the two of them but she wrapped her arms and legs around him, trapping him in place.

“no please, not yet” she said in a small voice, not wanting to ruin the intimate atmosphere. he chuckled softly, pressing soft kisses all over her pretty, flushed face.

“anything for you, princess”

the end 💋

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #nct 127 smut #nct 127 hard thoughts #nct 127 hard hours #nct smut #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #jeong jaehyun #sugar daddy jaehyun #sugar daddy nct #nct aus #imagine nct

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dwonfilm · 1 month

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Cowboy take me away. | Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Beau, [Y/N], Cassie and Jenny enjoy a night out together at a karaoke bar. Inspired by the song ‘Cowboy Take Away’ by The Chicks.

Warnings: none, purely fluff.

If she’d have told her younger self that as an adult she’d be living in Montana, she’d have laughed in your face. She was born and bred a city girl and that’s how it had stayed. Until about a year ago when she’d had a pretty rough time at work—enough to give her two week notice at that. What made her settle on Montana? Honestly, the distance. She just wanted to put as much distance between herself and her former life that she decided, maybe it was time to take a break from city living. She’d had a love for older country music and maybe she could be that girl in the songs she always sang as a child and on karaoke nights.

Speaking of karaoke nights, that’s exactly where she was right now. Cassie Dewell and Jenny Hoyt, two of her best friends, sat at the table as they smiled and laughed with her—you’d met Cassie first while applying for jobs in town. She’d offered a friendly face and a helping hand which eventually led to the job [Y/N] held to this day. During the day she was a baker, working at the best bakery in town but her other passion was music. If there was something that [Y/N] loved as much as baking? It was music. Of course befriending Cassie led to meeting and becoming friends with Jenny, Denise and there he was—sauntering back from the bar with two drinks, one in each hand. It was through this group of beautiful women that she met the man who was now her boyfriend: Beau Arlen. He wore a bright smile that always delivered [Y/N] a warmth that she’d never before felt. Approaching the table and placing her drink in front of her, he’d then move to sit down before leaning forward to press a kiss to your hair. “There you are darlin’, nice and cold.” He’d speak as she leaned forward to take a sip from the glass. “Thank you, baby.” She spoke, Jenny and Cassie chuckling. They were all too used to the two of you acting like no one else was in the room. “What’s so funny?” Beau asked with a light chuckle himself, Jenny shaking her head. “Nothing, I just don’t know why you guys keep including us in your dates—feels like we’re watching mom and dad.” Hoyt replied before taking another swig of her beer. Cassie couldn’t help but to laugh. “She means that with all the love in the world.” Beau and [Y/N] look at one another with little smiles. “We’ll try better to behave.” She added, Cassie taking another drink. “Are you gonna get up and sing [Y/N]?” Dewell asked, Jenny and Beau both moving their gaze to where she sat with her eyes wide.

“You sing?!” Beau asked, turning towards her with a twinkle in his eye. “I need to hear this immediately.” Jenny added, her own eyes trained on the woman sat across from her at the table. [Y/N]’s eyes moved to Cassie who had just outted her without a second thought. “I don’t know..” she spoke, taking another sip of her drink and desperately hoping that they’d change the topic of conversation. Her hopes were not the case as Beau leaned into her side with a smile. “Sing something for me.” He whispered. Her eyes turned and met his, that beautiful green twinkling with love and admiration. Reaching to pick up her drink now, [Y/N] lifted the glass to her lips and took a moment or so to down the contents. Lightly burning her throat to which she’d make a funny face, causing everyone at the table to laugh softly. Slowly she pushed the chair back, taking a deep breath into her lungs and pushing it back out again. Lifting herself from the seat she’d walk over towards the booth where the man operating the karaoke for the evening sat. Beau’s eyes followed her every step of the way, watching as the bar lights danced off her [Y/H/C] locks. She spoke to the man who nodded, Cassie and Jenny were watching her at first to see what she’d be doing—their eyes moved towards Beau slowly however, watching the way he looked at her. Briefly they shared a look themselves, silently having a conversation about both Beau and [Y/N].

Speaking of [Y/N] she’d climbed the small staircase that led onto the main part of the stage. She’d been wearing light blue skinny jeans that evening, a worn out graphic T-shirt clinging perfectly to her torso. Tucking some loose strands of [Y/H/C] behind her left ear. Still sitting at their table, the three people she’d come with had their eyes on her with pride and smiles upon their faces. “You ready?” the karaoke man asked, to which she’d nod in his direction. Holding the microphone loosely in her hands she’d look out amongst the crowd, doing a sweep before her eyes landed back at her table. Smiling at Cassie and Jenny who gave her a little wave and two thumbs up, it settled her nerves a bit. Next her eyes found the man that made the rest of the world disappear. Beau smiled up at her with the most genuine of expressions, already immensely proud despite the fact she hadn’t sang a note yet. Now the speakers would come alive, the first few notes of ‘Cowboy Take Me Away’ by The Chicks playing. Jenny looked back at Beau, Cassie kept her eyes on [Y/N] at first. She held the microphone firmly and began to sing.

“I said, I wanna touch the earth. I wanna break it in my hands. I wanna grow something wild and unruly. I wanna sleep on the hard ground, in the comfort of your arms—on a pillow of blue bonnets in a blanket made of stars. Oh, it sounds good to me.”

[Y/N] voice was soft, but everyone could tell she was a good singer. There was a little hint of twang buried within her voice, likely from a little too much time with a certain Texan man. If Beau’s eyes hadn’t been twinkling before? They sure were now, watching this woman who’d easily captured his heart.

“I said, cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you—closer to you.”

Chills filled the arms of her friend group, but especially her boyfriend. [Y/N] had looked around a little bit at the various patrons of the bar, onlooking and smiling—enjoying the song she’d picked and enjoying her singing it. Now it was Cassie’s turn to look back at Beau, Jenny turning her gaze forward to watch [Y/N]. Cassie just watched the way was looking at you, so full of life and so full of joy. It was nice to see him so happy after all he’d been through both before Helena and since moving here. There was no catch, no waiting for another shoe to drop, just.. [Y/N] loving him as best she could and showing him humanity was still alive. Maybe more importantly than that, showing him that he could still have happiness and love without ulterior motives or forcing something that just doesn’t work anymore. Once [Y/N] looked at Beau, any nerves she had about him not enjoying the song choice, or her voice or anything had completely vanished. So, she continued to sing while her eyes were locked onto the sheriff.

“I wanna walk and not run, I wanna skip and not fall. I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall.”

She and Beau had this conversation a couple times, about how being here brought [Y/N] an inner peace she didn’t know could ever exist. Admiring the vast blue sky in the daytime and being able to see the stars at nighttime—noises of nature and calmness rather than constant sounds of vehicles, horns honking and various sirens at all hours of the day.

“I wanna be the only one for miles and miles—except for maybe you and your simple smile. Oh, it sounds good to me. Yes, it sounds so good to me.”

Often times, nights were spent with Beau and [Y/N] blasting music from a speaker and dancing around the open field in front of his trailer. Slow dancing, silly dancing, maybe the odd dance that was a little more raunchy if anything. All of it under the blanket of the Montana sky with the beautiful stars shining bright. These kinds of memories were ones that she would hold near and dear to her heart. Other nights were spent watching movies outside—whether it was the weekly friends movie night, with Emily, or just the two of them. [Y/N] would bring home some of the treats she’d baked and take some to Beau, who was always more than happy to receive them.

“I said, cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you—closer to you.”

[Y/N] sang directly to Beau, eventually moving to look around just a little bit—though her eyes never stayed away long. Of course she’d give Cassie a little wave too, smiling between the lyrics of the song. Taking a soft breath again, [Y/N] would lower her voice a little to sing the bridge of the song. It was beautiful to the ears of everyone within the bar, but none loved it as much as the cowboy that she was singing about and singing directly to—that smile seemingly planted on his lips permanently.

“I said, I wanna touch the earth, I wanna break it in my hands. I wanna grow something wild and unruly. Oh, it sounds so good to me.”

[Y/N] had smiled while singing the words, confidence finally and fully setting in while she gazed towards her cowboy. It was the last repeat of the chorus and so it required a little more emotion behind the words. Luckily for her, [Y/N] had plenty of strong emotions for Beau Arlen.

“Cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you. Closer to you. Closer to you. Cowboy take me away, closer to you.”

Beau stood to his feet, followed a couple seconds later by Cassie and Jenny. Everyone in the bar was clapping, offering their applause to the performance. It was an every day occurrence that someone with some real ability took the stage—it was usually reserved for some drunken, fun loving singing. If you could call it that. However Beau’s feet carried him to the bottom of the staircase by the stage, [Y/N] handing the microphone back to the back behind the booth before turning around. Again her lips were curled upward immediately, walking across the stage and down the couple steps directly into Beau’s arms. “You’re incredible darlin’. Utterly incredible.” He spoke, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. She smiled and gazed up at him with her [Y/E/C] eyes, now they were the ones twinkling with love, admiration and pure joy. “Thank you, baby.” She replied with a soft tone to her voice. Beau didn’t waste any time and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to [Y/N]’s lips. His beard rubbing against her face always tickled a little but she adored it. Now her arms would come up and wrap around his neck—both pairs of eyes being concealed by their lids as the kiss brought that warmth to both of them.

Everyone in the bar whistled or cheered, which brought the couple back to the reality that they indeed were in a room full of people. Both Beau and [Y/N] just smiled after breaking their kiss and walked back to their table hand-in-hand. Cassie and Jenny were smiling and sipping on their beers while the couple sat down in their chairs across from the dynamic duo. “[Y/N]! I didn’t know you could sing, that was beautiful.” Jenny complimented her with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Jenny.” She replied before slowly leaning against Beau’s arm. “How did you know she could sing Cassie?” Hoyt asked, turning to look at her best friend. Cassie simply laughed. “I was helping [Y/N] move some stuff around and clean up the garage and she had the radio on, she started singing along quietly at first but eventually moved to a regular volume.” Dewell explained, opting for another drink of her beer. “I had an idea, except when she knew I was listenin’ she’d get quiet or stop altogether and opt for humming.” Beau added, which had [Y/N] tilt her head up to look at her boyfriend. “You noticed that?” She asked, surprise in her tone. “Honey I’m a cop, attention to details is kind of a necessity.” He replied, to which all four of them laughed softly. “Fair point.” She conceded. “I’ve always been nervous about my singing, I don’t know.” She continued before laying her head back on Beau’s arm. “Well there’s no need to be after that, though your cowboy may be putting in many requests now.” Jenny joked, downing the rest of her beer. “Oh definitely.” He replied to which they all laughed again. “Well we’d better get going.” Cassie spoke and Jenny nodded. “Yep, we’ve got a lot on the plate for tomorrow.” Hoyt spoke while lifting herself up from her seat.

Cassie finished her beer and slowly stood up as well. “Anything I need to know about?” Beau asked, both women shaking their heads. “Don’t think so—but if that changes you’ll be the first to know.” Cassie replied, smiling towards both he and [Y/N]. “Goodnight guys.” Jenny said, Cassie mirroring the sentiment before they placed money down onto the table as a tip. After a couple moments she looked up towards Beau, nudging his shoulder with her chin. “What is it darlin’?” He asked, turning and looking down with his beautiful green eyes. “Does that mean we should get going soon?” [Y/N] asked, noting that for someone who needed to be up rather early in the morning.. it was getting pretty late. “Probably, sweetheart. Hey.. one more dance before we hit the road?” He asked, that Texas drawl very evident. [Y/N] smiled and nodded, quickly standing up and extending her hands towards her boyfriend.

Beau chuckled before lifting himself from his chair, taking her hands and leading her onto the dance floor. If you asked [Y/N] what song was playing, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. All that she focused on was her handsome cowboy and the joy that was overflowing within her heart.

#beau arlen #fanfics #beau arlen x reader #Beau Arlen imagines #big sky #big Sky imagines #Spotify

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 5 months

Text

Welcome To New York

Chapter Two of Sweet Home Alabama

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

Description: It's been seven years since you left Pigeon Creek, Alabama. Seven long, arduous years. Just when everything seems to be moving in the right direction, a seemingly happy event makes you remember how closely the ties bind you to Pigeon Creek.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3170

A/N: Here we go with Chapter two! It's finally time to see who Linley is as an adult and explore a little bit of her life in New York. This is also the chapter where we meet her beau! I hope you love it!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

In the seven years since you left Pigeon Creek in the rear view mirror, your life has changed by leaps and bounds. You're not sure when your small hometown went from feeling like your whole world to not being enough. You've always had dreams, and you've always been opinionated. But as you grew up, your dreams and Jake were still the two most important things in your life.

At least, that is, until one dumb decision changed your entire life and ended up losing you your best friend and first love all in one fell swoop. So you left Pigeon Creek and you left Jake behind, and moved to New York City. You lost yourself in your career, working your butt off to become a fashion designer. It’s been a long, hard road to get to where you are now, but you can’t say you regret it.

You wake up the night before your first big debut show at New York Fashion Week, dreaming of the day you and Jake were struck by lightning. You're face down on your workbench and for one short moment, you're not quite sure where you are. But that feeling fades when you see lightning through the stained glass window of the warehouse you and your team are working out of.

"Oh my god." You gather a couple of designs off of your desk before walking up to the floor, checking them for splotches of drool as you go. Your team is clustered around models, carefully measuring and finishing garments to make sure each fits their model to perfection.

"How come y'all let me sleep?" Even after seven years, you haven't been able to lose your Alabama accent. A part of you hopes you never do.

"It was only five minutes. Did you know your accent gets thicker when you're sleeping?" You roll your eyes before comparing the design in front of you to the one on the paper. You make one final adjustment to the cloth on the mannequin before accepting a cup of coffee from your assistant. With coffee in your veins, everything feels better.

"They destroyed Badgley Mischka, did you see, Linley?" You nod ruefully, sure to your bones that the same could happen to you.

As your team laughs, you can't help interjecting. "Yeah, yeah. Y'all are laughing now, but tomorrow that could be us!"

Your words are just enough to have your team erupting into activity again. You forget all about your dream, attention wholly held by the fabric which has the ability to control your entire future. If you send fervent prayers out to the Fashion Gods, Saint Laurent, Gucci and Karl Lagerfeld, your team doesn’t judge you for it. They’re banking on this collection just as much as you are. It's just after dawn when you and your team leave the warehouse. You're exhausted and run off of your feet, but you're filled with contentment at the same time. For better or for worse you’ve made something with your own two hands, a collection from which you adore every single piece. As you walk home, you're filled with a quiet confidence - being a successful fashion designer feels so attainable right now. The city is as quiet as you've ever heard it and the shops are just opening up their shutters as you walk down the street. You can actually do this!

When you finally, finally get home, your feet are dragging. You only have the time for a quick catnap before you have to head downtown again to complete your final prep for the fashion show. Your apartment is quiet, lit only by the weak light of the rising sun peeking through your gauzy white curtains. You throw the deadbolt home and turn around, only to see flower petals strewn across the pale carpet. Your entire apartment is filled with the scent of freshly bloomed roses.

A riotous wash of colors greets you as you toe off your heels and step onto the plush cream carpet, following the trail of petals into your living room. Vase after vase of bright blooms line the tables and shelves in your living room, the delicate scent lifting your mood instantly. There's only one person who could do this for you.

Bradley Bradshaw.

When you'd moved to New Y0rk, you'd promised yourself you wouldn't fall in love again - or at least that you wouldn't actively go looking for it. The girl you were, that heartbroken worn creature, you vowed to wipe her out of existence. So you adopted the surname Floyd along with a backstory to match and became a Linley your own father wouldn't recognize. You hadn't expected to fall in love with the New York Secretary of Housing. But under your mentor, you ran in posh circles, even before you got the chance to design your own line for fashion week, and you and Bradley had hit it off.

It hasn’t been a whirlwind romance, at least not in the conventional sense. That wasn’t Bradley’s fault either. Bradley is easy to love. It just took you a while for your brain to convince your heart that you could love him. A part of you still does a double-take when he does things like this for you. You’re still not sure you deserve the pampering, forget the vacations or the parties that you’ve been attending on his arm. It’s good for your reputation, less so for his. After all, the man once known as Rooster in the press for some less than clothed paparazzi pictures on vacation had a reputation for dating models before you.

The red light on your answering machine is blinking and you hit the button to hear what messages you have. It's Bradley's voice you hear, leaving a voicemail so romantic that were you a different, less heart-sore girl, you would have swooned on the spot. As it is, you have to lock your knees, you’re so sure they’re going to give out on you.

"Hey, Sweetheart." His voice makes you smile giddily as you stand in your flower festooned living room. "Good Morning. There's a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. I know the likelihood that you came home last night was slim to none, so I wanted to do something to brighten your day. I also wanted to wish you good luck before the show today. It's going to be a hit and I can't wait to see what your gorgeous brain came up with. I love you! Bye sweetheart!"

When a man does things like this for you, how could you not love him?

Mid-morning finds you backstage running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You're so nervous even your nerves have nerves. This fashion show is either going to be a success or the biggest disaster you've ever seen. You've solved about a million disasters, including a blouse that should be purple but is a mauve instead - the yellow spotlight should fix that - when you see Bradley on a video feed of the milling crowd.

He always looks so good, so put together. He's wearing a crisp electric blue suit with a Hawaiian shirt underneath it. Were it anyone else, the ensemble would look garish, but on Bradley, it looks amazing. The mustache and Hawaiian shirt are staples in New York politics at the moment. They're both eye-catching traits that Bradley's dad always, always wore when he was mayor before his death and it's a trend Bradley continued once he became Housing Secretary. Of course, just like his dad, he's also the belle of the press.

"Secretary Bradshaw! Can we ask you a couple of questions? Are you excited about the show?" Your grin is smug and a little unbelieving as you watch him schmooze the press, dropping tidbits about how you're going to knock this line out of the park.

"Please tell me he has a flaw." That sardonic, sarcastic voice? That's Natasha Trace. Both of you had come up under the same mentor, her as a model and you as a designer. She's the closest thing you have to a best friend in New York.

"He asked to take me to Ireland over the holidays." You can't wait! You've never left the country before.

"Oh, honey, he's going to ask you to do a lot more than go to Ireland with him." She's nudging you even as the other models line up behind her.

"We'll see." You face the models. "We're going to be late! Alright ladies! It's go time!"

It feels like a dream when the curtains come down and the standing ovation rings through the hall. You take a few minutes to clear away your mascara tear trails and to re-apply your lipstick before heading into the crowd. You're immediately mobbed by your friends and industry contacts.

When you see Bradley standing behind the photographer taking pictures of you and your models, Tash included, you're immediately moving through the crowd and launching yourself into his arms.

"Bradley!" He's smiling that grin you love as he wraps you up tight in his arms. The scent of his cologne surrounds you as he holds you tight, holding you up before he lets you drop back onto your feet.

"Oh sweetheart, congratulations!" You can't hide your ecstatic grin as you stay in his arms.

"Those flowers, Bradley? They were absolutely gorgeous! How did you do it?" You're a little giddy and out of breath just at the sight of his smiling face.

"I just wanted today to be perfect for you, sweetheart." You smile up at him in thanks before pulling away, just a little, your hands still in his own.

"So? What did you think? Do you think the critics will like it?" You can't hide the doubt in your tone.

"Oh, Lin! They're critics. They even hate themselves." His words should comfort you, right? Instead it feels like Bradley's not taking your concerns seriously. But you chuckle it off.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Bradshaw! I wasn't born with thick skin like you." You're grinning just a little as he smiles sunnily at you.

"That's one of the many reasons why I love you, Sweetheart." His hands cup your face as you rise on your tiptoes to peck him chastely. Of course, right as you're about to pull Bradley over to introduce him to the girls, he's saying his goodbyes.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I've got a meeting across town. But I'll see you tonight, yeah?" At your confused look he continues. "You remember, we have that thing at Lincoln Center?"

That's when you remember, the thought hitting you like a sack of bricks and thoroughly deflating your happy little hot air balloon.

"Oh, right!" You smile wryly at him. "The fundraiser! For your mom! That's tonight."

"I'm afraid so. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I love you! Congratulations!" You wish you could say that this is the first time Bradley's had to dip out early for a meeting, but you would be wrong.

You can't help but dwell on it when James, Bradley's personal chauffeur picks you up to take you to the fundraiser a few hours later. Is this what life is going to be like? Feeling like you're never at the top of his mind? Never his number one priority? Sure you get to enjoy perks like chauffeured cars and going to fundraisers and galas, wearing designer brands and diamonds on your neck, ears, and wrists, but are those perks worth never being his top priority? You're jerked out of your thoughts when the car stops and James pulls the divider down.

"His meeting's running a little late. But Mr. Bradshaw wanted me to take you inside so you wouldn't have to wait in the car."

"Where are we?" You don't get an answer to your question. James leads you through a side doorway and a series of plain white-walled hallways.

"He shouldn't be too long, miss. Just go through here." If you didn't trust him with your life and know that Bradley did the same, you'd be a little worried.

There's another suited man waiting at an open door. "Won't you come in, Miss Floyd?"

You walk past his outstretched arm into another bare hallway. But this one has Bradley on the other end of it.

"So, have you decided?" As happy as you are to see him, you can't help feeling just the slightest bit of whiplash.

"About Ireland, sweetheart. Just you and me and a couple hundred of our closest friends and family." You feel even more confused now than you did earlier.

"A couple hundred - Bradley what's going on?" The entire time he's been confusing you, he's led you into a cavernous room.

At a signal you can't see, the lights flicker on, one by one, illuminating shelf after shelf of sparkling jewels. Pretty stacks of robin's egg blue boxes are artistically arrayed to the sides, all bearing the mark of Tiffany and Co.

"Oh. My. God." Your words are a little strangled as you take in the plethora of shiny gems.

And then he gets to his knee right in front of you.

"Linley Floyd. Will you marry me?" Your brian short circuits at his words, an irrational sense of panic clouding your vision.

"A-are you sure? Are you really sure you want to marry me? We've only been dating for eight months!" You're babbling, trying desperately to make sure he's making the right decision while making sure you're making the right decision.

"Of course I'm sure, sweetheart. You know me. I don't make rash decisions. And I don't ask questions I'm not sure of the answer to. So at the risk of being rejected twice, I'll ask you again. Will you marry me?"

This time, your mouth kicks in before your brian does. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" You're both smiling and laughing as he twirls you around in a circle.

"So pick one." There’s laughter in his eyes as he follows behind you as you try on ring after ring, all in your size. Each is beautiful, but you know each is also more expensive, costing more money than you’ve ever seen, more money than you’re sure you’ll ever see. It’s almost a relief when you pick the simplest one, a band with a singular clear cut stone embedded in it. But your left hand feels heavy in the car afterwards as James drives you and Bradley to the Lincoln Center.

You can’t name the feeling in you right now. You should be feeling happy and excited. A part of you is giddy and ebullient. But more than that, you’re confused. But you can’t let Bradley see how you feel. So you kiss him softly, relishing in the feeling of his mustache across your lips. As you sink into the kisses, your earlier exhaustion dissipates like champagne bubbles. The divider is up and it feels like you and Bradley are the only people in the entire universe that matter right now.

"I've been planning this for a long time, sweetheart. I knew your show would be great and it'll be great to tell the whole world at the fundraiser tonight, right?" Your stomach lurches a little at the thought.

"I can't wait to see my mom's face when I tell her that we're engaged! Let's call your dad, sweetheart!"

You shock yourself with how fast you snatch the phone out of his hand - he isn’t able to type in more than a single digit.

"No!" You chuckle a little sheepishly. " I mean, um. I haven't seen my dad since I left Alabama. I really should tell him in person. He raised me all by himself and he deserves to hear it from me in person. Please?" You pull out your biggest, best puppy eyes and pout just a little. As always, it works.

"Of course, sweetheart." His sigh is fond as he takes the phone back. "I love that you're that close to your dad."

"Um.. there's one more thing, Bradley." At his nod, you continue. "I think I should do it alone."

"Baby, you know I'm going to have to meet my father-in-law eventually, right? Hopefully before the wedding?" Now he's looking at you like you’re crazy.

"I know, Bradley. But we've got plenty of time for that, right? And I know my dad will love you!" You cup his cheek gently with your left hand.

"It's 'cause I'm a Yankee, right?"

You crinkle your nose fondly before leaning in close enough that each word has your lips brushing against his. "Well, it's that and 'cause you're a Democrat."

You're both giggling as the car pulls up in front of the Lincoln Center. Before you get out of the car, Bradley turns the ring so the stone is in your palm.

"Mum's the word, sweetheart. Just for now."

The minute you step out of the car, you're bombarded by questions, flashes of light from countless photographs and what seem to be a hundred calls of your name. At the end of the runway is who you would classify to be the epitome of the Wicked Witch of the West, if only the Wicked Witch of the West were less green.

Carole Bradshaw is the current Mayor of New York, ex-First Lady of New York City, and 100% sure that nobody can run her son's life better than she can. So she butts into nearly every part of your relationship with Bradley. He manages to wiggle away by finding a colleague he recognizes. But that leaves you right in her clutches as she pulls you into a hug and takes both your hands in hers.

"Oh, darling, I hear fantastic things about your new line."

You babble your thanks, but you know exactly why her expression changes. Her vice grip on your left hand would hurt if you weren't wholly preoccupied by the cold sweat covering you from head to toe.

"What is this?" She hisses, "Bradley, why is Linley wearing a skating rink on a very important finger?"

She doesn't even notice you trying to tell her to keep it quiet, because all of a sudden she's screaming the words, "You're engaged?!", for all the press and fundraiser guests to hear.

That's when you know you have two huge problems. One, your engagement, your supposed-to-be hush hush engagement is going to be all over the news, you're sure nationally. Everybody will know that Secretary Bradshaw is engaged to you. The second problem? It's that you've never told anyone that you had been married once before. That you're still married, actually.

It's with a heavy heart that you book the first red eye to Alabama in the early morning hours after the gala. How the hell are you going to get Jake to sign the divorce papers without him finding out that you're engaged? Can you get the divorce processed before Bradley comes to meet your dad? More importantly, are you ready to face Pigeon Creek again?

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

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#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc

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dent-de-leon · 11 months

Text

Kingsley doesn’t like the red moon watching. It’s not hers, not the brilliant beacon of light and comfort that always guided him home. Catha’s light cradled him in her embrace, so warm and welcoming from the moment his fledgling soul was born. But Ruidus’ vermillion glow felt terribly alien and cold.

A thousand eyes opening wide, a city of countless screaming minds, the whole world shattering, void black shackles breaking. A red moon bleeding into every dream. An otherworldly ancient, primal scream--

He wakes with a ragged gasp, soaked in sweat and fighting to catch his breath. For a moment, the whole room pitches forward; teeters off-kilter and slants sideways until it gradually rights itself, falling into an easy rhythm as it gently rocks and sways, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to ward off the wave of sudden vertigo. Distantly, his scattered mind dimly realizes he's still at sea, bedridden in his old cabin aboard The Balleater, back when The Mollymauk was still just a far-off dream.

Still adrift in the vision of a red moon haze, Kingsley hears snatches of words that he can’t seem to place, just snippets of things.

“—as soon as I could.”

“We know. Thank you, Caleb. You’re always taking care of everyone.”

“Nein, I was just—any one of you would have done the same.”

“What about Yasha and Beau? Do they know?"

“Time seemed of the essence. Beauregard is away on a research trip, looking into some of these...anomolies. And I feared I would not reach Yasha before…before he…”

“You think he’ll come out of it?”

“Yes. I think he…he just needs time.”

“Cad said that too! I can message him and Yasha in the morning…”

Footsteps slowly recede, pattering off down the hall, and the door closes softly. When King's eyes flutter open, Caleb is collapsing in the bedside chair with a heavy sigh, weighed down by a bone deep weariness.

The man’s head is bowed, long auburn hair hanging over his eyes, hiding him away. He rubs his hands together, as if for warmth, and Kingsley swears he can see a spark of fire warming his fingertips. It’s a nervous habit, the way Caleb wrings his hands and traces a sign in the air like that, hands twisting and turning as if to reach for that flicker of flame, feeding fire with the flow of magic itching at his fingertips, coaxing that raw rush of power into heat and light and warmth.

Overstimulated, King thinks. Too keyed up and anxious. Wants to quiet the current of adrenaline still coursing through his veins, just can’t stop and sit still.

King knows that feeling well.

“Caleb?” He mumbles blearily, throat still wrung hoarse and ragged.

Moonweaver, he sounds like shit. Probably looks even worse. Not his best day for surprise visits from pretty wizards.

Caleb bolts up to his feet in a flash, reaches for King on sheer instinct before he stops himself, hand hanging outstretched between them. Kingsley wants to close the distance, but then Caleb lets his hands drop miserably back into his lap as he slumps into the old creaking chair, drawing a deep breath.

“You’re—you’re awake.” His voice cracks in relief, the barest spark of a smile gracing his gentle face.

Oh, I better be. Had more than enough of dreams.

“And you’re a pretty sight to wake up to,” King rasps, fangs bared in a rakish grin.

Caleb laughs—a terribly miserable and despondent thing, devoid of mirth—more a choked sob and a croak.

“You gave us quite the scare, Circus Man.”

The whole world slipping out from beneath his feet, collapsing under a blood red flare from the fell moon. Everything drowned out by a piercing, ancient scream, echoing endlessly. Still reeling from visions of a starry sea, the chains snapping free, a woman swathed in glistening moonlight drifting through his dreams.

Her cards are all spread before him, the final one turning over to reveal The Mirror. A premonition. A truth that's hard to swallow. Something lurking in the shadows. A red moon eclipsing the world in its eerie sanguine glow, drawing him in like moth to flame. It makes the shattered shards of another life slowly resurface, dredged up from the deepest, darkest recesses of fractured memories. Something he tried to bury.

Buried--choking on dirt and gasping for air, clawing away at the earth as it devoured him, scraping away at rock and mud and decay until he breaks the surface and a crack of gleaming moonlight illuminated the darkness. And when he reaches up to the sky, to the night, to the goddess who beckoned him home--it's not her face he sees, but the crimson flare of fate-twisting Ruidus. And he is alone. Carved out. Abandoned.

When the sky is no longer bleeding red, he is left lying on the deck, head cradled in his hands. Breaths coming sharp and shaky. Cold and hollowed out, empty, empty--

"Nein," a voice whispers fiercely, warm hands cradling his face, trailing down to caress his cheek, pulling him in. "You're empty no longer, Mr. Tealeaf. Understand? I...I am so sorry, that you are caught up in all this. But, Beauregard and I are trying to make it right. I swear, we will do whatever it takes to relieve you of this pain, Tealeaf. You and all the others bound by this fate."

Hand trembling as he reaches out again, still wallowing in his grief and holding himself back. But his face isn't so pale, his clothes no longer threadbare rags hanging on skin and bones. Healing is a slow, sorely tender thing. His lovely blue eyes are still rimmed by heavy dark circles, and it tugs at something in King's heart that his Magician has not known a restful night. He wants to sling his arms around Caleb and gently pull him into bed, curl up against him until they both find respite.

But he knows he can't have that, and it makes him all the more desperate.

"You're leaving again," King says. It's not a question; he can see it in the mage's maudlin eyes, the way he wrings his calloused hands.

You left first, something vicious and long since buried hisses in the back of his mind, a clawing ache he could not deny. It's your own damn fault for always running away. For pushing everyone away--

"Ja. I must. Beauregard and I, we--we will not be gone long. I hope. But...we cannot return to Wildemount yet. I can't--Not until I know that monster will never harm another soul again."

Kingsley is about to argue, words barbed as viciously as the heat of his infernal blood. It's not Caleb's fight, doesn't have to be; hasn't he given enough? Hasn't he bled and cried and flayed himself alive enough? And for what? For a world that will never thank him? For the grim satisfaction of his own guilt-ridden conscience, still begging to be punished as some imagined penance? Hasn't he suffered enough? Caleb Widogast is only human. Only mortal. Surely this cruel world had taken enough--

It hits him like a gut punch--the fact that Caleb is here. Darktow. An ocean away from his contact in Marquet. He couldn't be pried from his arduous investigation there for months, often went entire weeks without word. And the singular intensity of his focus only mounted as the solstice drew near, withdrawing entirely from the rest of the Nein, fixated on saving the whole world all on his own.

Caleb wouldn't just drop everything and leave the continent, not when he was so close to a breakthrough. Not for this. Not for him--for some bad dreams and the patchwork pieces of a broken soul, indulging in a stranger's whims the way one might comfort a child after night terrors.

Surely Caleb wouldn't risk jeopeordizing his whole mission just for him. Not when you were the one who killed him.

“You’re--you're not real,” Kingsley murmurs, hating himself for how terribly obvious that feels.

Caleb arches an eyebrow at him, a sly smile stealing over his lips. He leans in conspiratorially, as if to share a secret. “Oh? I’m not?”

And yes, well. That is bloody adorable.

It startles a laugh out of him, bleeding away a bit of tension.

“Ja, ja,” King hums good-naturedly, playing along with this admittedly pretty dream. “You’re just another dream-memory…thing. That. Go on, shoo. I need to sleep.”

“And if I was real,” he dares, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “What would I have to do? To prove it to you?”

Caleb lays a gentle hand on King’s own, and gods it feels so bloody real. He can’t suppress a shiver, a shudder, can’t stop his body from turning to greedily bask in the tender intimacy of that one simple gesture.

“Don’t leave,” he whines.

Fuck. Why couldn’t he just bite his tongue?

Caleb’s eyes close, a dark crease etched in his brow. He takes a deep, measured breath, steeling his composure.

“Okay,” he says. Relents. The word comes out hoarse, strangled, like it’s physically painful to stop himself from saying anything more.

He shouldn't cling to the man like a corpse seeking warmth--like he did when he first clawed his way out of the grave. A hollow, empty shell drawn to every spark of light and vibrant soul, captivated by all the joy and color in the world. Longing to bask in the beautiful brilliance of someone real and whole. Just another nameless shade trailing after the living, a wayward spirit meant to be forgotten. Craving any taste of physical touch and affection, anything that let him feel almost real.

“You’re not here,” Kingsley insists, turning over and letting his eyes drift shut. “So’s fine. You’re just another dream. A good dream, but. I’m done with dreams. Just wanna fucking sleep.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Tealeaf.”

“Mmm. My friends call me Molly,” he mumbles, petulant and sleepy. The words come unbidden, an automatic reflex that feels far too achingly familiar.

Caleb’s brows shoot up, eyes going wide. For a moment, Tealeaf worries he’s misstepped in this delicate dance, said something wrong, but then the wizard gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, just the gentlest touch of pressure to ground him.

“Ja, alright then. Goodnight, Molly.”

Caleb waits until King’s eyes flutter shut and his breathing starts to slow. When he turns his head into the pillow and feels himself slipping deeper into darkness, only then does Tealeaf hear the slight scrape of a chair and the soothing murmur of soft Zemnian. A hand alights on his cheek, the barest brush of skin on skin, a whispered caress. The faintest touch of lips pressed to his fever warm forehead.

He can’t help but smile as he drifts off to sleep.

#widomauk #mollymauk #caleb widogast #kingsley tealeaf #putting this here cause ive had it lying around for a while and i am once again thinking of ruidusborn king and caleb solstice reunion

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barbiewritesstuff · 1 year

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Wife, girlfriend or Whatever: Chapter 4

-- HI!!!! Chapter 4 is finally done omg, I’m sorry if this isn’t amazing, I’m not sure how I feel about it but yeah I hope you guys still like it lol, I will get better for part 5 tho, promise.

Thank you so much @Igg5989 for beta reading this, I cannot do this without you.

TW. IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 GTFO, SMUT, p in v sex, oral sex (on both ends)

Previous Part

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 @feedthemadness-sweetie @ravensmadreads @mslizziesblog @littlebadariell @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rose-sensuelle @whorunstheworldgirls @auntiegigi

(half of y’all didn’t ask to be tagged but you commented on part 3 so I thought you might like to see the update, sorry if not, feel free to ask me to remove you from the taglist)

“So, future Mrs Simpson, where do you want to go now? Back to the hotel?” Beau asked as soon as you stepped out of the restaurant and back onto the street, where the cold hit your face, flushing your cheeks.

“You promised me some window shopping,” you reminded him, following him down the road.

“Right,” he smiled, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my new fiancé immediately after proposing.”

“I can’t believe you did that,”

“I told you I would make you pay,” he chuckled, “You can take the ring off, if you want,”

“Yeah, I think I might, wouldn’t want it to stain my finger… Green really isn’t my colour,” you replied, turning the ring around on your finger. It felt strange, now that the fake proposal was over and the embarrassment had been washed away, you almost felt a little sad that it hadn't been a real ring, “On the other hand, how will everyone know I’m engaged?” you joked, trying to deal with your feelings in the only way you knew how, by ignoring them altogether.

“You make a fair point,” he said, “Maybe this will help?” he asked, grabbing your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his.

“It’s a start,” you replied, turning away from him as you pretended to look at something on the other side of the road, “I think New York is growing on me,” you said, taking in the beautifully decorated shop window.

“Don’t fall in love with it,” Beau warned, “NYC is a whole lot further than Santa Barbara,”

“Have you ever been?” you asked, “Santa Barbara, I mean,”

“Once or twice,” he replied, “It’s nice. The beach is beautiful, water’s warm…” he trailed off, “And eighty-third highest crime rate in California..” he added with a grin

“Says the man from Saint Louis,” you scoffed

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s like, the city with the highest crime rate in the US!”

“I take it you’re not coming for Christmas, then?” he grinned

“I didn’t know it was a serious offer,”

“It depends on your answer,”

“Coward,” you poked him with a finger, “Don’t want me to meet your mama now we’re engaged? Why? Is there someone else? OH MY GOD, are you cheatin’?” you exclaimed, the Texan accent you usually tried to soften now coming through with the excitement.

“Damn it you caught me,” he laughed, letting your hand go for a second. Before you could mourn the loss of contact, he snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you closer. Beau planted a kiss on your cheek, the feeling of it so electrifying that both of you paused for a second. You wondered if the gesture had reminded him of the kiss you had shared earlier that evening. It had made him pause, and while at that moment you had been happy the kiss had had any effect at all, now you wondered if it was because of surprise and not because of what you hoped… that he might return your feelings.

Not that it mattered anyway. If he did, you would still be leaving, and he would still be your boss. HR would still investigate and it would still marr your record. Even if he did like you back, nothing could happen. Or that was what the rational part of your brain was desperately trying to make you understand while every other fibre of your being wanted him to never let go.

“HR,” you murmured, quietly enough that only Beau would hear, although if you had to be honest, while the rational part of your brain was trying to put a stop to it all, you were really hoping he hadn’t heard.

“You’re right,” he said, letting go of you, “Although…” he paused, “They’re not…here, are they…”

“Beau,” you tried to warn him half-heartedly

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t tell them, if we were a little less … professional,” he said, “Would you?”

“No,” you breathed, letting your mind wander, wondering what ‘less professional’ could mean. Your heart hoped it meant more hugs, and perhaps a few more kisses, but the heat pooling between your legs was telling you it wanted ‘less professional’ to end between the sheets.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” he tried to reassure you, “We’re just friends.”

“Right,” you shot him a strained smile, “Just friends,” you added, “Just joking around.”

“Right,” he smiled back. Beau looked at his shoes, something he did whenever a situation got more awkward than he knew how to deal with, and then coughed, “I was thinking Madison Avenue.”

“Sorry?”

“Window shopping. I was thinking of Madison Avenue,” he explained, “We’ll take a cab though, I know you can walk on those, but it’s half an hour away from here on foot.”

You hummed in agreement. Beau hailed a cab, displaying the same efficiency he had at the airport. This cabbie, however, was silent for the entire five minute drive uttering only a quick hello when you climbed in and goodbye when you stepped out of the taxi and onto the avenue. While you imagined Madison Avenue to be somewhat impressive all year round, Christmas and its seasonal decorations had made it breathtaking.

Beau walked you down the avenue, past Chanel and Tiffany’s and eventually past Saks department store, its front covered in impressive fairy lights, attracting everyone’s eye. You stood there admiring it for a while, until Beau tugged at the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing and motioned for you to move.

He smiled at you, “Don’t get decorations like that in California, do we?”

“I’m thinking we were ripped off,” you laugh a little breathlessly, feeling slightly silly that you were so affected by little twinkling lights.

“You’d get used to it,” he shrugged, “After a while it just becomes normal. Look,” he pointed at people passing by without sparing a second glance, “The locals just want to go home, they don’t even look at it anymore. The only people stopping by are parents with curious kids and tourists…”

“That’s sad,”

He shrugged again, “San Diego has plenty of nice decorations, you don’t really notice those, do you?”

“I guess,” you admitted, “Doesn’t make it any less sad, though.”

Beau grinned, “I guess I just have to cheer you up, then,” he said, leading you into a side street on your right. You followed him as he sped up slightly until he veered right again and stepped into the biggest Barnes and Noble you had ever seen.

“We have twenty minutes before they close,” he stated, looking at his watch, “Have fun,” he added, “I’ll be getting myself a coffee.”

You smiled and turned away from him, moving from section to section and row to row until the intercom crackled on and a voice announced five minutes until closing time. Gutted that you hadn’t even gotten to the section you had really wanted to get to and find the book you were dying to buy, you made your way to the café to find Cyclone.

He stood off to the side of the café, leaning against a pillar, waiting for you with a cup of coffee in his hands, “Not getting anything?”

“No time, I’ll swing by tomorrow. I have a nail appointment anyway,”

“Oh nice,” he smiled

“It’s not nearby, but I’d do just about anything for Stephen King, even if that involves braving the metro,” you joked nodding towards the poster advertising the book. An ardent love for Stephen King was another thing your father had passed on to you before his passing, and after his death, his complete collection had been willed to you. Sadly, because your apartment was so small, the fifty seven fiction novels, five non-fictions, several short story anthologies and the seven novels written under a pen name, now rested in a dark and dingy storage unit you rented for an outrageous amount of money from a horribly creepy and outrageously rude little woman with a terribly behaved dog.

That was likely the only thing that really made you look forward to the new apartment, the living room was spacious enough to fill it with the shelves needed to host your Stephen King collection and the rest of your books too.

“So,” Beau said with an amused frown, “Catacombs are creepy, and true crime is terrifying but Stephen King is fine? Remind me what kind of books he writes again?”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes

“Ooh,” he said, “Crabby. Drink up,” he added, handing you his half finished coffee, “They were closing up and didn't want to make two coffees.”

“Bullshit,” you called out his lie, “you’ve had too much to drink and you forgot my order.”

“Never!” he laughed, “I don’t get drunk.”

“Liar,” you smiled

“I’m barely tipsy,” he replied with a huff, “I can hold my liquor pretty well, princess. I used to be a frat guy, you know?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything, I’ve met plenty of frat boys--,” you said, emphasising the ‘boy’, “-- who couldn’t hold their alcohol.”

“I’m not convinced,” you shrugged, “I say you need to prove it to me. How about a few drinks at the hotel bar?” you offered

“Don’t want the night to end yet, babygirl?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun, Adm--” you started, stopping short in front of a shop window. The outside was dark, decorations having been forgotten, the only sign that Christmas was near being a small pine tree by the window topped with a small golden star but the inside was dimly lit by a small desk lamp by the till where a woman sat hunched over a notebook, furiously scribbling things down. Hiding her somewhat, back lit unattractively, was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen.

It looked very similar to Grace Kelly’s dress in Rear Window, a black top with a white embroidered skirt, made to seem full with a generous petticoat and finished off with white elbow gloves and a lovely chiffon scarf. It looked enchanting.

“Everything okay?” Beau asked

“All good,” you grinned, “Pretty dress.”

---

After a long evening walk in freezing New York, you were ready for the warmth of the Edison hotel, although neither of you were keen to go your separate ways. Something had shifted in the air, Beau’s comment about dropping the professionalism had made the air charged with something neither of you could put your finger on.

“How about we have that drink, then?” you offered, reminding him of his claim that he never got drunk. You had drunk enough at the Rivage, but a small part of you wondered, probably aided by the very nice wine, where the evening might lead if you didn’t go back to your individual rooms.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said, his words contradicting his body, leading the two of you towards the lift and pressing the button for the rooftop bar. You stumbled onto the top floor with his hand against the small of your back. Beau led you to a small two person table near the edge, where you had the best view of New York. You looked at the view, the twinkling lights of the city that never slept looking more like stars than cars and buildings. You were suddenly shaken out of your reverie by Beau. He tugged your -- his -- coat off and hung it at the back of your chair. You turned around to thank him, finding yourself inches from his body.

"Oh my God, how are you so warm?!" You chuckled as soon as your bare hand accidentally grazed Beau's shoulder. Although the rooftop bar wasn't by any means warm, the covered portion had been heated up sufficiently that keeping coats, gloves and hats on would be a little uncomfortable, but because he'd been walking around in the snow without a coat, you had expected him to be cold to the touch, if not downright frostbitten, "You're like a furnace," you added.

Beau grinned at you, extending his arms out into a T, inviting you in for a hug. You shrugged his coat off and dived in, making yourself comfortable in his embrace without a second thought, "I could live here," you said, voice muffled by his jumper and the skin of his neck. He smelled amazing, whatever aftershave he usually used had been swapped for something nicer and you couldn't deny it was doing things to you. It was musky and masculine, "I'm sorry, that was a weird thing to say," you mumbled.

"It's okay," he replied, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter, trapping you into him for a little longer, not that you wanted to go. You felt Beau bow down his head, hiding his face into the crook of your neck in the same way you were doing to him, and you wondered if he could feel your lips against his neck in the same way you felt his, and if it was eliciting the same thoughts. You tried to push them away but with no success. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might start to kiss any inch of exposed skin you could reach. You were dying to run your tongue against his neck, nip at his jawline, and run your hands against his bare flesh, regardless of the fact that you were in the middle of Edison's rooftop bar, surrounded by patrons and staff but you shouldn't. He was your boss, and would be for another few weeks.

"I'd let you," he added, almost in a whisper. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly. Maybe your brain had made words out of the rustle of a coat, or you'd caught the last few words of someone else's conversation. Unwilling to face reality, you burrowed deeper into him and Beau chuckled, the sound of his deep voice crackling through him like thunder in a way that made your stomach flip. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the intention to never act on your all consuming attraction flying out of your mind as soon as you crossed his gaze.

While still gentle, his eyes watched you with a sort of intensity that almost made your legs buckle. The strong arms holding you close to him in the hug moved, one came to rest at the small of your back, pressing you impossibly closer, while the other snaked its way up to your hair, his hand leading your head closer to him as he leant down. Beau kissed you, at first tentatively, almost asking if you really wanted this but he gained confidence when both of your hands moved to his chest, holding the crumbling fabric of his previously crisp shirt and pulling his upper body towards you.

The kiss, which had now grown deep and passionate, had short-circuited your brain and turned it into mush. You had all but forgotten the other patrons of the bar, or the taboo nature of your current actions, the only thing you were aware of right now, was the growing need you felt for him.

He pulled himself off of you, coming up out of breath and flushed.

"It's shit, but if you want a drink, I'm sure we can make coffee in my room," he breathed, using up all of his self control not to dive in for a second kiss. You nodded eagerly, grabbing your bag and his coat so quickly you would have laughed and called yourself pathetic if you had had a clearer mind.

You walked briskly out of the bar, Beau following right behind you. By chance, the lift doors opened and three men walked out right as you approached, letting you step into an empty elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, Beau pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his arms around you and one knee pinned between your legs. He broke the kiss and you whined. Either he didn't hear you or he didn't care, but Beau didn't react, he simply kissed your cheek, going down to your jaw and then down your neck, peppering searing kisses against your skin, eliciting needy moans.

He nipped at your collarbone and you let out a whiny "Please".

He laughed. Beau opened his mouth to reply but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Just in time, he flew off of you, stepping back into the opposite corner as two elderly women walked in. They stood right in the middle, keeping you and Beau separated. He seemed unaffected, hiding his tenting trousers with his coat while his other hand played around with a packet of cigarettes he had gotten out of his coat. He played nonchalance very well, but you were having trouble. Aside from the obvious flush and heavy breathing, you were acutely aware of your ruffled hair and blown out pupils. One good look at you and the two women would know exactly what the issue was. You weren't sure why you were so concerned that they would know, but your hand came up to smooth down your hair anyway.

Under Beau's watchful gaze, which you could feel burning the back of your head with the same needy intensity he had displayed minutes ago, back when you were alone, you fixed your dress. Tugging at the back and smoothing the area over your ass, you then tried to stand casually, very aware of just how wet you were and ashamed that the women might know that too.

"You okay?" Beau asked, appearing behind you very suddenly. You jumped as he spoke, having bent down so he could speak into your ear, his breath feeling hot on the skin of your neck and fanning the flames of your burning desire.

"Bastard," you replied

"Watch your language, Miss," he whispered so only you could hear. The blush covering your cheeks only intensified and you tried to look down, hoping the downwards angle would hide your flush from unwanted spectators. The lift dinged again as it hit another floor and the doors opened to let in three middle aged couples. A strong hand grabbed you around the waist, fingers spreading wide to get a better surface area, and you were backed into Cyclone's warm and inviting chest. He coughed, you could feel it rumbling through his body, it sent shivers down your spine and you felt Beau smirk.

Then, after what seemed like an agonisingly long time, the lift dinged again. You grabbed Beau's hand behind you and practically dragged him out to his room, only stopping short when you realised he had the keys. He let you in but you barely made it past the threshold before you pushed him against the wall and kissed him.

Beau let his hands roam now that you were in the privacy of his hotel room. His fingers grazed over your legs, following the seams of your dress till he seemingly worked up the bravery to find his way under it. After some brief touches, he found the side of your panties and followed the hem around till he got to your ass. All pretence of shyness flew out the window as he grabbed a handful and groaned into your mouth. His hand flew out of your dress, finding the zip in the blink of an eye and undressing you as fast as he could, letting the soft fabric of your dress hit the floor with a gentle thud. Keen to gain the upper hand again, he pushed you off of him and against the opposite wall, caging you in again. He didn’t kiss you, instead, he stood back a little, admiring the underwear set you were wearing. A lacey red three piece set you wore to feel confident, consisting of a bra, crotchless panties and a garter belt holding up your thighs.

“Fuck me,” he chuckled, “Fuck me,” he repeated, breathlessly. His arms fell by his side as he took a step back to get a better look at the ensemble.

“Happily,” you answered, making him look back at you in stunned silence, like, despite having gotten you undressed, he didn’t expect that that would be where the evening was going.

And to be fair, he hadn’t really thought this far. In fact, he didn’t really seem able to think at all, and he was glad you seemed to be able to. Beau looked at you, feeling very much like he had died and gone to heaven, and watched you frown. You grabbed his tie, dragging him closer to you.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Admiral,” you said in a sultry tone, “How about I fix that?” removing his tie in one swift motion.

Your fingers made quick work of his shirt, unbuttoning it with unparalleled efficiency and then of his trousers, letting the lot fall to the floor right next to your dress. You sank down to your knees and looked up, that simple action eliciting another groan from Beau, which was swiftly cut off when you leant in and ran your lips against the outline of his boxer shorts. His eyes fluttered shut, one hand coming to rest against the wall in front of him in an effort to keep himself upright. He felt your hands bring his underwear down, revealing his length.

You let out a giggle as it accidentally bumped against your lips and Beau looked down, seeing you look up with hungry, blown out pupils and a smile on your face, his rock hard member hiding the centre of your face. You winked at him and moved, wrapping your pretty lips around the tip of his cock and licking the sensitive part of it. Cyclone let out a moan which seemingly spurred you on as you took on more of his cock, til he felt himself hit the back of your throat and your lips wrapped around the base of his dick. You gagged after a moment, tears forming in your eyes and when you came back up, you looked absolutely wrecked.

“Use me,” you whispered, popping him out of your mouth to speak, and Beau seriously wondered if this wasn’t all a dream. His brain didn’t seem to think so, though, because one of his hands automatically moved to grab a handful of your hair. You opened your mouth wide to encourage him, but Beau didn’t need it. Steadying you with his hand, he started fucking himself into your mouth at a leisurely pace, giving you time to adjust to a more comfortable position.

Beau had always thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, ever since you first stepped in his office, but he had to admit that while you looked gorgeous all made up, there was something to be said for the way you looked right then, with mascara streaking down your cheeks, lipstick smudged, and your lovely manicured fingers holding his thighs as he thrust himself in and out of your mouth at a quickening pace. He was getting closer to his high with every thrust and it took all of his self control not to allow himself to spill his cum inside your mouth.

“Bed,” he said, pulling himself out of your mouth. You pouted but obeyed, jogging over to his king sized bed with an impatient smile. Beau went over to his suitcase, zipping a pocket open and pulling out a condom. You waited for him on the sheets, legs spread open so he could see your aching core.

Moments later, the bed dipped in front of you. He kneeled down between your legs for a second before allowing his fingers to rub against your sensitive nub for a few seconds before travelling down and gathering up some of your slick. He watched it glisten in the yellow light of the hotel room before popping his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean, eliciting a needy moan from you. He then dropped to his elbows, pulling you forward towards his mouth as he threw your legs over his shoulders. Beau gently kissed the sides of your thighs, keeping eye contact with you and smirking when you whimpered and whined. Eventually, after a few more seconds of torture, he parted your lips with his tongue and explored until he found your sensitive nub. Closing his lips around it, he gently suckled, taking care to lick it at the same time until he could feel you getting closer. Your hips bucked in his face, desperate for something more than he was giving you and he smiled against your cunt. Beau held you down with both his hands, determined to have you come on his face and you did moments later with a moan he was certain the neighbours heard.

He let you gently come down from your high before making his way back up your body for a kiss. While all the other ones had been eager and impatient, this one was more passionate and slow, Beau took his time to enjoy how your lips moved against his, how your tongue felt as it battled his for dominance. He lined himself up with you, gently pressing his member into your core. Once inside, he stilled for a moment and then thrust in and out in slow, careful movements. Beau tried to stay concentrated, savouring every noise you made and keen to make this last as long as possible but his orgasm was fast approaching. He lifted himself up til he was kneeling down, his hand travelled to your core, rubbing your clit until he felt you tighten against him, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the sound of your orgasm. The added pressure sent him over the edge and he spilled his seed into the condom with a loud groan.

Eventually, he pulled out of you. Tying the condom at the base and throwing it out before joining you in the shower, the hot water washing over you as you kissed. You didn’t want the evening to end, but as the clock struck midnight and the day ended with one last Frankie song floating through the open window, you fell asleep, wrapped in Beau’s arms.

He laid awake a little longer, fighting against sleep in order to enjoy the moment a little longer before finally losing his battle and closing his eyes as Frank sang:

"In the wee small hours of the morning

While the whole wide world is fast asleep

You lie awake and think about the girl

And never, ever think of counting sheep"

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone simpson #cyclone smut #cyclone #beau simpson smut #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader

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