#Okay but if the two beaus met it would just

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films. 

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down. 

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since. 

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job. 

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before. 

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face. 

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air. 

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow. 

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left. 

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again. 

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films. 

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!” 

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously. 

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him. 

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly. 

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence. 

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant. 

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open. 

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies. 

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies. 

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it. 

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again. 

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them. 

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant. 

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door. 

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What  -- the hell are you doing here?” 

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time. 

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity. 

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work. 

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.” 

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more. 

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you. 

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you. 

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him. 

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim. 

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive. 

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply. 

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off. 

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch. 

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants. 

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas. 

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy. 

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him. 

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on. 

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing. 

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day. 

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?” 

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh. 

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck. 

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started— 

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.” 

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register. 

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time. 

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass. 

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer. 

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him. 

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth. 

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled. 

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you. 

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching. 

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch. 

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“ 

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin. 

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release. 

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him. 

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.” 

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you. 

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust. 

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch. 

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips. 

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin. 

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings. 

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail. 

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl. 

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole. 

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better. 

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing. 

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.” 

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly. 

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure. 

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you. 

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you. 

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit. 

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet. 

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter. 

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too. 

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go. 

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed. 

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again. 

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable. 

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole. 

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately. 

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously. 

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you. 

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex. 

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…” 

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right. 

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly. 

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice. 

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length. 

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.” 

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis x reader

[inuyashaluver]

Love ur fics. Could you please do a fic with Lia Walti where y/n is a rockstar that is in their wag era? They're always coming to matches when they're not on tour & when they are, they'll still be caught watching them. Thanks 4 ur time.

ultimate wag - lia wälti

lia wälti x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend are dedicated wags and groupies

warnings: suggestive, looonnggg

a/n: thank you for the love and request!! hope you enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, lia were funnily introduced through your friend leah. you were quite popular in the music industry, leah had known you all her and your life, being childhood friends through the thick and thin. you had some time off and leah invited you to one of her games where you met your future girlfriend.

the game had finished, leah making you sit in the friends and family section with her (your) mum. leah bounds over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “you’re here!” she exclaims, holding you tightly to her chest, “i’m here!” you match her energy with a bright smile. “hey, i want you to meet someone” she quickly looks around, perking up and running over to one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen - leah’s told you all about the beautiful swiss in her team, she wasn’t lying about her beauty, you were nervous.

leah drags the girl by the arm to you, shoving her lightly into you, you quickly put your hands out to catch the girl with a giggle. “hi” you breathe out, she smiles at you sheepishly, “hi”. leah looks between the two of you with a smirk. leah knew you’d like her, she subtly moves to chat with her mum beside you.

“lia” she sticks her hand out to you, you gently take her hand in yours, “(y/n)” you shake hands with mutual shy smiles. both of you engage in small talk, feeling so familiar. “i love your music, by the way” she offers with a charming smile, you could’ve melted to the floor then and there. “i love your football skills, by the way” you say cheekily. she gives you a bright laugh, quickly grabbing your arm and letting go, you can’t help but miss the contact.

“hey, did you want to go for a coffee or something? i’d like to get to know you more if you’re okay with it” she looks down at the floor, preparing for rejection but instead felt a hand wrap around hers, looking up to see your bright grin. “i’d really love that, lia” you give her hand a gentle squeeze, and she looks down at them with a smile.

you wait for her outside of the change rooms with a shy smile, you couldn’t stand still. waiting for this beautiful girl was more daunting than performing live at a packed out stadium. she made you so nervous, she felt exactly the same.

she comes out dressed comfortably, matching your laid back style for the game. she rushes towards you with a bright smile, “ready to go?” you nod at her with a grin. you both go to a small café in london, talking about yourselves, random topics, your work and just realising how much you had in common. as the time progresses, dates turn into a relationship, you and lia becoming more serious and moving in together.

in present days, you had been dating for three years, you and lia still love sick puppies - leah forever claiming that she was the reason for it, the both of you couldn’t deny that.

—

when you and lia started becoming more serious, you would always go to her games, clad in her jersey and cheering for her loudly. every time she saw you in those stands, her heart would clench, she knew you were incredibly busy but you always made the time for her, a promise you gave to her when you started dating.

lia quickly did her rounds of photos and signatures before bounding over to you with a bright smile. she doesn’t say anything, but pulls you into a loving kiss, mouths synchronising perfectly with one another. she pulls away from you, placing a quick kiss on your nose before finally looking at you. “hi, baby” you breathe out, attempting to catch your breath. “hey, beautiful” she grins at you cheekily and you can’t help but give her a light shove on her shoulder.

“you played so well, my love” you say proudly, grabbing her hands and swinging them lightly. she shakes her head at you, “well, my wag is here” she shrugs, “i’ve got to impress her, you know?” she squeezes your hand, “well, your wag is certainly impressed” you smirk at her, her eyes widened with fake surprise, “you know my wag?” you shove her again, “not funny” you scowl, quickly disappearing when your girlfriend peppers your cheek with kisses, both of you in giggles.

“i’ll get changed and we can go home?” she questions, quirking her brow at your confused expression. “oh you’re talking to me?” you pause, “are you trying to crack onto me, wälti, when you have a wag?” you exclaim, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand. she looks at you, mouth agape and fighting a grin, “you’re pretty hot..so” she shrugs and you gasp again, this time, lia moves to place another chaste kiss on your lips. she pulls away with an amused grin, “i only have one wag and i just kissed her and love her very much” you grin at her shyly, pushing her to the direction of the change room when she laughs at your shyness.

—

you were currently on tour, selling out massive venues and crowds all over the world. no matter what city you were in, you made sure that you watched your girlfriend’s games, texting her words of praise and encouragement for her performance. your team often made fun of you for being such a proud wag, you always wore your “wälti” jersey to bed, watched the games everywhere you go, even if it was between a show - you had your phone out, looking at the score and watching intently.

many of them sent pictures to lia, showing you in your dolled up performance outfits crouching on the ground, phone in hand with the arsenal team splayed on the screen. every time she received them, she’d let out a proud grin, adding them to a folder labelled “my girl on tour”. you made sure to call her every night, talking about your days and giving each other the run downs of what was happening in your life, you’d gone around the world and you were finally able to come home, you and lia were incredibly excited to see each other.

the first night you got back to the uk, you had a show, inviting the entire arsenal team to come and have some fun, they had a game two days later that you were very excited about. you give them backstage passes, as well as them having a designated area that they could enjoy themselves in.

as soon as lia and the girls got there, she immediately went backstage to find you, she hadn't seen you in person for 8 months. she knocks on your dressing room door, “come in” you say tiredly, lia frowns a little at that, opening the door slightly and peeking her head in, when you see your girlfriend, you immediately perk up and pull her inside, jumping on her and giving her a tight hug.

she laughs brightly as she holds onto your thighs, hoisting you up on her waist. “hi, baby” she coos, rubbing comforting shapes on your back. you clutch into her tightly, “lia baby” you say tearfully, moving to cup her head between your hands. you both look at each other adoringly, taking in each other’s appearances. “aw, baby, don’t cry” she coos, wiping your tears and moving to sit on the small couch in your dressing room, you now sitting on her lap.

“i missed you” you pout at her, she smiles at you lovingly, “i missed you too, my love” she gives you a playful pinch to your cheek. you move quickly to place a kiss on her lips, she quickly deepens it, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you down to her. she kisses you passionately, gripping onto your hip with one hand and keeping the other on your neck, you place your own hands through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp with your nails. you both whine into each other’s mouths, it had been so long since you’d seen each other, feeling like years had gone by.

she goes to further deepen the kiss until a knock sounds on your door. you pull away from her reluctantly, she moves to places kisses on your neck, “w-who is it?” you say shakily, “only me” you hear your childhood friend on the other side, she quickly opens the door and you go to move off your girlfriend, but she holds you incredibly tight, you couldn’t move.

“well, well, well, you couldn’t wait till you got home, huh?” leah teases, holding her arms out to you, lia lets you go with a glare at leah when you hug her tightly. “i knew her first, wälti, back off” leah scowls right back, cradling you to her chest. “well i date her, williamson, who’s really winning?” lia challenges, you shake your head at both of them amusingly, they had no malice in their words, they were just teasing each other so you let them do it.

lia stands up now, grabbing your arm and pulling you to her chest, she was holding you so tightly, “i need to breathe, love” you tease, she adjusted her grip slightly. “i actually came in here to tell you that you’re on in 10” she checks the watch resting on her wrist, your eyes widened, you weren’t even dressed. “shit! get out!” you push leah out of the door and she laughs, you turn towards your girlfriend expectantly, “you too, off you go” she pouts, “baby” you shake your head, grabbing her and pushing her out of the door, “nope, go have fun” you were about to close the door but she puts her hand on it,

“well, i was about to!” she exclaims, smirking at your red face, “bye, baby!” you sing out, shutting the door in her face, you hear your phone ping:

message from: baby ❤️

you’re lucky you’re cute.

you smile at the message and lock your phone, getting yourself quickly dressed and to your position for the opening. all the arsenal girls were teasing lia, jumping around excitedly to see you, all of them big fans.

your opening number plays, everyone screaming loudly, lia was probably the loudest. you come out and lia nearly drops to the floor, there you were, dressed in your girlfriend’s jersey. the girls immediately start teasing lia harder, all she can do is stare at you. everyone knew the two of you were together, she’s seen you in this jersey thousands of times, but this made her heart beat out of her chest.

“london!” you cheer, the crowd erupts when you finish your first song. “thank you all for coming out tonight, i’m so glad to see you all” you take a moment to look around the packed stadium, feeling so small amongst the crowd and the cheers.

“before i continue, i just want to thank not only you guys for coming along but my favourite team ever, the arsenal women’s team!” the girls jump around, cheering for you loudly, “but my biggest thank you has to go to my lovely, beautiful girlfriend, lia” cheers louder than ever ensure as you point towards the girl’s section, hard to miss as they were on the ground floor where you could see them.

lia looks at you tearfully, her heart swelling at your mention. she holds her hand up in a heart motion and you can’t help but return it, laughing brightly into the microphone. “alright, now let’s have some fun” music sounds through the speakers and you continue the concert, the girls having fun, dancing and singing with each other. lia knew every word, her eyes not leaving you for even a second. as soon as the show was over, she goes to find you.

you yelp when your girlfriend hoists you up on her waist again, smiling down at her brightly. she grabs the back of your head to pull you into a quick kiss, “my little superstar, i’m so proud of you” she looks at you in awe, putting you on the ground in front of her, pulling you into a tight hug. you gently sway her side to side and hold her tightly, “thank you for coming” you mumble into her chest, “i wouldn’t miss it for the world” she places a quick kiss on your lips, holding you as if you were going to disappear.

—

two days later, the arsenal match comes swiftly around the corner. you were sat in the friends and family section, “wälti” proudly on your back as you watched the match. you watch your girlfriend proudly, cheering for her as well as the team loudly. after a successful win for arsenal, lia rushes towards you, lifting you over the barrier and onto the pitch. once you’re safely situated on the grass, she wraps you into a tight hug, pulling away to look at your smiling face.

“hi, baby” she grins, giving you a quick kiss on your lips, “hello, lovey” she smile up at her, affectionately kissing her cheek and she giggles at the contact. “you played so well, baby, i’m so proud of you” you clutch her face between your hands, smile never leaving your face. a loving smirk graces her face as she looks into your eyes, “thank you for coming” she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you close and hiding her face into your neck. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world” you say, comfortingly rubbing small circles on her back.

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liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

liawaelti: cutest wag ever, welcome home, my love @/yourname

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yourname: cutest groupie ever, love you, baby

↳ liawaelti: proud groupie, and i love you more

↳ yourname: proud wag, i love YOU MORE

↳ liawaelti: literally impossible

leahwillamsonn: boooo we get it, you’re in love!

↳ liawaelti: you did this.

↳ yourname: you set us up, love

↳ leahwillamsonn: shut up.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #lia wälti #lia walti #lia wälti x reader #lia walti x reader

[toournextadventure]

our little secret iii

Summary: All four of you lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up. Thankfully, Maxine and Bobby-Lynn know just how to make sure Lorraine has to pay up too.

Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, religious talk (typical of southern states), religious trauma, period-typical homophobia Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv)

“This ain’t sittin’ right with me,” you whispered to Beau as you tried, once again, to get comfortable in the back of RJ’s van.

Despite your best attempts, you, Beau, and Huck were currently sitting with Lorraine’s crew on the way to a location. It had been agreed by everyone - except you, obviously - that you had all lost the bet, so you should all have to own up. Although you still found it profoundly unfair that Lorraine somehow got out unscathed from the entire thing that she had agreed to.

And now you were stuck in the back of a hot, sweaty van with a bunch of hot, sweaty people that were one camera away from having relations for pay.

“We all lost, we all pay up,” Beau whispered back even as he smiled at Maxine. You rolled your eyes; he was such a suck up.

“Lorraine ain’t gotta pay up,” you grumbled, but settled back in your spot anyway.

Admittedly, you were being rather rude. You had barely said hello to any of them, and you hadn’t talked to them since the trip had started. It wasn’t their fault though, it was entirely on you. You just… didn’t know what to say to them. This wasn’t your world, and it was completely overwhelming. You didn’t care what any of them did for a living, but you hadn’t expected to be a part of it.

And if Jackson didn’t quit staring at you, you were going to lose your mind.

“You look awful familiar,” Jackson said with the slightest tilt of his head. He never stopped rubbing Bobby-Lynn’s thighs.

“Ever been a few hours south of Houston?” You asked, shifting in your spot to bring your knees up to your chest.

“Don’t believe I have,” he said with a shrug.

“Must just be a resemblance, then,” you answered.

“Leave her be,” Bobby-Lynn said as she playfully smacked Jackson’s chest. “Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?”

“Do we make you uncomfortable, sweetheart?” Jackson asked.

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was very uncomfortable.

“You were in ‘Nam, right?” Beau asked, thankfully pulling the attention away from you. You supposed he was good for something.

“Yes sir,” Jackson said with a smile, pulling his dog tags out from under his shirt. “Two tours.”

“North or South?” Beau continued. Okay, maybe you didn’t want to hear so much about this anymore.

“South.”

“Y/N’s brother was in South Vietnam,” Huck chimed in. “Maybe that’s where you recognise her.”

Oh, you wanted them both to shut up. You wanted them both to hush right that instant. You looked up and instantly met Lorraine’s eyes from across the van. She was still sitting beside RJ, going over the script and whatever else she usually did. But there was the smallest tug at the corner of her mouth when she looked at you.

I hate you, you mouthed, to which her smile grew before she went back to the script.

“What’s your brother’s name, sweetheart?” Jackson asked, pulling you back into the conversation that you desperately wished would end.

Although you liked the adorable little frown Lorraine sent Jackson’s way at the use of the little nickname. Maybe you were okay with talking with Jackson. If it could get Lorraine’s feathers ruffled, then it was worth it. It was about time the tables were turned.

“Roy,” you said. “Roy Y/L/N.”

“No shit,” Jackson said. “I served with that son of a bitch.”

“Seriously?” You pulled your knees up to your chest and leaned forward. “Which tour?”

“My first,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back. “So you knew him before he…” your voice trailed off into nothing as your eyes slowly lowered to the floor of the van and your smile fell.

Before he went crazy. But you couldn’t say that out loud, could you? Your daddy had done his best to make sure you all knew not to mention Roy’s “affliction.” A test from God, he had called it. He used it as nothing more than a piss poor excuse to remind everyone that that’s what happens when you fall from faith. What would he say about you?

You just kept your mouth shut and rested your chin on your knees.

“He caught the combat trauma,” Huck said in a far softer tone than Beau ever could have managed.

“Now that’s a shame,” Jackson said with a shake of his head.

“Heard it happens more than you think,” Maxine called out from the front seat. It was probably the first thing you had heard from her since… Well, it was the first thing you had heard. “They all come home different.”

Oh, you weren’t so sure you liked this.

“You can’t come back different,” Bobby-Lynn said with a humourless chuckle. “Besides, it ain’t even real, is it?”

“They said it is,” Maxine continued, finally turning around to face everyone. “Put it in their little book last year, called it PTSD or somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t like this topic at all. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your grip around your knees tightened. They didn’t get to talk about this like it was nothing of impact to you. Hadn’t they just heard Huck say Roy had this… this combat trauma? And they were going to act like nothing was wrong?

Everyone around you continued to talk about this new PTSD thing that was starting to make its rounds. It felt like someone was watching you. Without lifting your head, you looked up and were instantly met with Lorraine staring at you with that look that she had never grown out of. A look that she gave you every time you would be forced to talk about Beau as if he were the love of your life. A look of pity. 

And you hated pity.

“Hey,” Jackson said, a little softer than everyone else’s ongoing conversation. He nudged your foot with his to get you to look over. “If you want me to talk to him, man to man, just let me know.”

His smile was more genuine than you had seen from a stranger in a long time. But there was no comfort in it because his offer was empty. You had no doubt he was being genuine, but how were you going to invite him over and have him talk to Roy without Daddy figuring out? The times were changing, but Jackson was a… certain type of man that you knew Daddy would never happily allow in his home. You and Roy were already scourges upon his land - though he still didn’t know your secret - so how could you possibly invite Jackson over with a clear conscience?

“Thank you,” you said instead, your smile far more convincing than your own thoughts.

The rest of the trip was, by all accounts, uneventful. That blasphemous talk of trauma and war had changed when Lorraine decided it was time to talk about the script. And even as she and RJ went over everything with their stars, and you were faced with the reality that you were truly, painfully alone, you still felt some sort of peace.

You would almost go so far as to say you felt comfortable.

Until you got to the shooting location.

“Are you serious?” You whisper-yelled at Lorraine when you both got out of the van. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have come?” She shot back, quickly shooting a fake smile to Beau and Huck when they passed. “Besides, we’re usin’ the building beside it.”

“You’re full of shit,” you mumbled as you looked up at the steeple of the small chapel.

By all accounts, it was a splendid little church. With a single steeple at the front of the roof and an elevated cross in the back, it almost reminded you of the one at home. Double doors that doubtlessly opened into a small worship room that held eight pews at most before ascending into the podium. A setup not unlike your own church back home, except this one didn’t house the guilt you couldn’t shed.

Beside the church was the parsonage, looking just as you knew them to look. Small, a little run down, painted a white that felt forced upon the environment. The paint was chipped and the window shutters were slightly askew, but it seemed to fit the rather bleak landscape behind it. Not ugly, but not exactly pretty either.

“Whatcha think?” Wayne asked. You jumped, but quickly regained composure. “Ain’t she pretty?”

“It looks cozy,” you said with a shrug. “You’re filmin’ in the parsonage, right? Not the church?”

Wayne laughed. A big hearty laugh that reminded you of all the sweet older men out at the rodeos. The ones that told you you were being ridiculous, but they were going to do their best not to openly tell you. It was a joyous laugh that was both humiliating and comforting simultaneously.

“I nearly forgot Church Mouse said you were a preacher,” he said once his laughter had subsided enough for him to talk.

“Church Mouse?” You asked.

“We’re usin’ the parsonage,” he continued, practically ignoring your question. “We’re not intendin’ to disrespect you.”

He clapped you on the shoulder and cocked his hip. You could see why Lorraine liked him. Overconfident, cocky as hell, but his smile always seemed genuine. Somehow, some way, he had seemed to be in a good mood the entire trip and even now. Optimism at its finest. You wished you could match it.

“Although I do have a favour to ask you,” Wayne said, his voice carrying a lilt that had your stomach churning.

“Yes?” You asked even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know.

“Think you can pray over this little set of ours?” He asked. “Help us break this bad streak we got goin’ on?”

“Oh,” you said with a huff, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I can do that then.”

Wayne smiled with his teeth and tipped his hat. “Thank ya kindly.”

You kept your eyes trained on the doors of the chapel while Wayne walked away, presumably to help set up whatever it was he was needing to set up. You could pray over the set. It was a little blasphemous to use prayer for something so… risque, but you weren’t a prude. After all, Daddy had always said everyone could use a little prayer.

The handle on the door was a beautiful polished silver; spare no expense for a house of God, of course. Hypocrites, the lot of them. But it was nice to open the doors without even the slightest resistance. Nothing was more terrifying than a run down church with creaky doors. It was like walking into a horror movie.

Your boots echoed off the empty wooden walls of the chapel as you walked down the center aisle, taking in everything about the building. It was a rather beautiful church, you wouldn’t try to deny it. A single, small stained glass window hung above the podium. It would cast a beautiful coloured light where the preacher would be standing on Sunday mornings.

There were three steps up to the podium before you stood behind the lectern and looked out onto the ghostly congregation. Not a single soul was inside the building, but from your spot above the room, you could feel the eyes on you. Momma, Roy, Jimmy. Granma and Granpa were in the back, followed by friends, family, everyone in the congregation that knew you excruciatingly well.

Then there was Daddy, sitting in the aisle of the front pew, watching you with that judgmental look. The one that he gave when he was condemning someone to hell for their sins. And he was looking at you, like he could see through your physical form, all the way to the filthy soul you hid underneath it all.

“You can’t wash away sin,” Daddy said.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t-”

“-There you are.”

The entire congregation disappeared as soon as you saw Lorraine standing in the doorway. Light from the setting sun illuminated her outline, almost a perfect copy of the angel painted above the doorway. And she was. She was an angel, one that you would worship even as you were cast into the pits of hell.

“Thought we lost you,” Lorraine said as she walked down the aisle with far more confidence than she had at home.

Your breath caught in your throat when she finally stepped out of the light in a startling white dress. It looked far too close to a wedding dress. It didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t quit staring. She looked so beautiful. Her smile was illuminating; it left your palms sweaty and your chest hurt-

-you gasped and pulled your hand away from the wooden lectern. The smallest splinter was stuck in your right index finger. It was easy enough to pull out, leaving behind a scarlet drop of blood that grew until dripping down your finger.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but when you looked back up Lorraine was in normal clothes. The very same ones she had worn on the trip over. The one she had never changed out of. Right. Maybe you really were crazy.

“I’m fine,” you said with a simple nod. “Just-” you sighed “-doin’ what Wayne asked.”

“Didn’t think he was a praying man,” she said with a frown. “Want some company?”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.”

As you walked down to the bottom of the three steps to meet Lorraine, the blood from your finger smeared across the finely polished wood. You left a stain on that church, same as your own. A stain that, as your Daddy constantly preached, you could never wash away.

—---

“You’re lookin’ a little green, sweetheart,” Huck whispered as he walked up to where you were standing in the back of the room.

“I’m not green,” you whispered back even as you continued to watch the scene unfold before you. “I just- I didn’t know the body could do that.”

“You’re such a preacher’s kid,” he said with a teasing lilt. Thankfully that was all he said before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked forward.

It wasn’t your first time seeing people having sex. You weren’t a complete fool, you had seen it before. Kind of. Okay, maybe it was the most tame sex in the world, but you had seen it! And you weren’t some sort of virgin either, so you weren’t totally in the dark. But you certainly hadn’t seen this before and it was… fascinating.

And a little concerning. Your head tilted. How did it even fit? Did Bobby-Lynn even genuinely find it enjoyable? Well, okay, after that noise you could believe that maybe she did. But all that other stuff, there was no way. No way at all- wait, that actually looked interesting. You wondered if Lorraine would like that.

"You're starin'," Huck whispered.

"I can't help it," you shot back. "It's like when you pass a car wreck. You can't look away."

"I think they would die if they heard you compare watchin' smut to a car wreck," he laughed. It was a little loud, you hoped the boom mic wouldn't pick it up.

"Where's your little boy toy?" You asked, hoping to take the awkward attention away from yourself. Even though you still couldn't look away from the scene. God, you hoped it was over soon.

"Your boyfriend," he said pointedly, "is downstairs talkin' with Maxine."

Oh Maxine. You had only known her for a few days, but you were starting to think she enjoyed stirring up trouble. Within moments of getting set up in the parsonage, she had made friendly with Huck and Beau. A little too friendly. You would have laughed about the whole situation if you hadn’t been attempting to act jealous to keep up the facade.

“Reckon I should go act the part of the jealous girlfriend, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah you should,” he whispered. “Though I doubt anyone will believe it with the way you’re watching your dear Rainey over there.”

You hated him for even bringing it up. So what if you had stopped watching Bobby-Lynn and instead watched Lorraine? The way she gently blew a few strands of hair out of her face while she held the boom mic as steady as you had ever seen. She wasn’t muscular by any means, but you could still see the tone in her shoulders. Or the… the little crinkle between her brows when she focused…

Okay, Huck was right, you needed to leave.

“Told you,” he said as you backed out of the room with a hellish heat in your cheeks.

As soon as the door closed behind you and the pornographic sounds muted, you could finally breathe again. Your mind was clear and you could walk down the stairs without a thought in your head. Well… maybe you had one or two thoughts, but it was okay. You could repent later at the chapel.

Maxine’s laughter was… almost adorable, if she wasn’t trying so hard to seduce Beau. Her nails lazily scratched up and down his bicep, and her face was embarrassingly close to his ear. If you had loved him the way you were supposed to, you would’ve been furious. Should have been furious.

You pictured Lorraine in Beau’s position. Sitting there with Maxine all over her, laughing at the unfunny jokes, leaning a little too close. It made your stomach turn. Your skin was hot and clammy and something pounded inside your head, screaming to be let out. There would have been no shame in your body for grabbing her and dragging her away.

Okay, there you go. Now you had the right feelings.

Your mind had already forgotten Lorraine wasn’t there when you sat in Beau’s lap. Like a good girlfriend should do, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, inhaling his scent. Sawdust. Something you supposed other women liked, which made him a downright tease.

“How’s your first smut viewin’ goin’?” Maxine asked, which instinctively had your nose scrunch before you regained composure. “That good, huh?”

“It ain’t bad,” you said. “Don’t think I really understand the appeal, though.”

“What part is… unappealing to you?” She asked, her voice far softer than necessary. 

The way she leaned in closer, trailing her eyes over every inch of you… and maybe you could see the appeal. It was something about her hand that had moved from Beau’s arm to yours. Soft. Almost too soft, but you didn’t want it to stop. And she held eye contact like it was an art-

-oh, Maxine was dangerous.

“Oh,” Maxine said with a small smile, “so that’s what it is.”

What was that supposed to mean? You opened your mouth to ask, but the stairs started creaking from the heavy footsteps. The skin underneath Maxine’s fingers felt terribly cold when she pulled back. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t pull back before Lorraine appeared, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to her coworker.

Maxine just smiled.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” Lorraine asked. Anyone that didn’t know her well would have missed the slight elevation in her tone. A dangerous tone.

“Just learnin’ a bit about each other,” Maxine said. Her hand rested on your arm again and you felt a heat in your cheeks. “Since we’re stuck here together and all.”

Like the dutiful girlfriend, you hid your head in Beau’s neck and tried to ignore his slight shake of silent laughter.

That tension didn’t end even as the sun set and stars came out to play. Everyone relaxed and had their fun and it reminded you of nights with just the four of you. Laughing, teasing, seeing Huck and Beau get closer than when they were at your house. Not too close, but it was still enough. Hell, it was almost enough to ease the usual anger from Lorraine being with R.J.

Until a few days later when it was time for everyone to start paying up on their lost bets.

The days had already started off miserably. Since you were “officially” Beau’s girlfriend, you were set to share a bed with him. But when Huck snuck in and you all tried to fit three people on a twin size mattress? Well, that was just borderline impossible. Clearly it wasn’t fully impossible, seeing as how you all made it work, but that didn’t mean you actually slept at all through the night.

Tack onto that Lorraine and R.J. coming down at the same time each morning, and you realised that you were horribly, terribly alone? You would have killed someone to get even just a single blanket and a big empty spot on the floor. Let you lie like a dog while everyone else became stars.

The first to suffer was, of course, you. Now, you would admit, you had offered to pay up first. In your convoluted train of thought, the sooner you watched Lorraine’s scene, the sooner you could forget it. At least that was what you believed would happen. You hoped that’s what would happen.

But in the moment, as you watched Lorraine getting ready, you knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple. You had to watch her move, see the look on her face, listen to her moans. She certainly never sounded like that when you were with her. Was this something that she genuinely enjoyed? Were you nothing more than a pleasant distraction when she was practically forced to go back home?

“I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as everyone watched you back out of the room, practically tripping over your own feet in your haste. Each step felt like the ground was rushing up to meet you, even as you stayed perfectly upright. You wished you would just trip down the stairs, maybe then it would ease the spiraling of your thoughts.

Downstairs wasn’t much better when you were still aware of exactly what was going on upstairs. Did you mean anything to her? Really, truly? Surely you did, Lorraine was hardheaded, she wouldn’t entertain your presence if she didn’t want you there. On the other hand, she kept RJ around for nothing, so maybe you were on the same level.

You picked up one of the books you had found the other day; some book called The Dead Sea Scriptures. It wasn’t all that fantastic, your daddy actually had a copy in his office at the church. But at least it was a distraction. Just like you. Okay, that certainly wasn’t helpful. Maybe you needed a stiff drink too.

The Hollywood grade acting you did was enough to convince everyone you were just peachy. No one batted an eye when RJ, Wayne, and Jackson left the parsonage after finishing Lorraine’s scene. To get some more groceries, they had said. You didn’t care, it really didn’t matter one way or another where they went.

“So,” Maxine said as she sat down beside you on the couch. Well, she practically sat on you. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

“I’m not explainin’ the book of Job,” you said without looking up from your book. “Jackson already believes there’s a dragon in it and I can’t have that argument again.”

“Not about that, silly,” she said; her hand was hot on your knee. “About you bein’ a third wheel.”

Oh you were not getting into that kind of conversation with Maxine. The past few days had been wonderful, and truthfully you had enjoyed it. They were all a bit… extravagant, but they were kind. As odd as it sounded to you, they felt more like family than most of your own family. You could see why Lorraine spent so much time with them even when she didn’t have to.

But you enjoying their company did not mean you wanted to get into the whole relationship conversation with Maxine.

“Your boys are some of those queers, huh?” She asked. “That’s why they’re up there filmin’ some fake scene while you’re down here.” Her hand squeezed right above your knee. “Readin’ some nerdy little book.”

“It was a bet,” you said. “We’ve always paid up, ever since we were little.” She smirked. “And my book ain’t nerdy.”

“It bother you that you gotta share your man?” She asked, as if you hadn’t even said anything in the first place.

“I-”

“-did you really start without me?” Bobby-Lynn asked when she appeared in the downstairs living room.

You did your best to conceal your displeasure when Bobby-Lynn practically ran over to sit on the other side of you. Her legs were bare, her denim shorts barely covering any part of her. She swung them over your own legs quickly, leaving you officially trapped underneath the both of them. You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“How far did ya get?” Bobby-Lynn asked. She was practically bouncing in excitement.

“We just started,” Maxine answered with a smile that would have made you squirm if you weren’t so focused on trying to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t y’all have scenes to shoot?” You asked in a desperate attempt to get them to leave you alone before they really got started.

“Don’t you have someone you should be thinkin’ about?” Maxine asked.

You opened your mouth instinctively, ready to argue, especially when Bobby-Lynn continued to lean closer. They both had some nerve to believe they could catch you off guard with their interrogation that was only just beginning. They had known you for, what, all of a few days? And still they thought they could get something like this out of you? They were pornstars, not detectives.

“Of course I’m thinkin’ about her-”

-maybe they were detectives.

You threw your head back against the couch, a groan leaving your lips. On either side of you, both women practically cheered, giving each other a high-five. It was disgusting, were you nothing more than a pawn in whatever game they were playing? Your daddy was right; couldn’t trust sinners.

You actively ignored the fact that you were one of them.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“It’s not like we couldn’t tell,” Maxine said.

What was that supposed to mean? How did they even notice? As far as you could remember, you hadn’t even spent hardly any time in the same room as Lorraine. How could they get some sort of scandal out of that? Let alone the fact you thought you had said maybe three words to her after she had helped you pray over set on that first day. No, none of that made sense.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said as you finally pulled yourself back upright, ignoring that Maxine’s and Bobby-Lynn’s faces were so close to yours they could kiss your cheeks if they wanted.

“You think every girl is fine with their boyfriend hookin’ up with another guy?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

You knew that would be the issue. You knew it, and you had told all three of them that it was shady at best. There was no logical reason for it, even if it was from some stupid bet. It may have been the 80s, but not everyone was as easy going as the four of you were. Not everyone was as understanding, and though that wasn’t the current issue, it still played its part.

“Not to mention all the lookin’ you’ve been doin’,” Bobby-Lynn chimed in. “You certainly ain’t lookin’ at Beau that way.”

“I-” you closed your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it. What were you going to say to argue? What could you say?

“Honey, we ain’t judgin’,” Maxine said. Her hand felt warm on your neck. She was far too close for comfort. “But this whole thing is pretty sad.”

“It ain’t that sad,” you pitifully attempted to argue.

“Darlin’, it’s downright painful,” Bobby-Lynn said. Her going back and forth with Maxine was giving you whiplash. “Ain’t never seen anyone pine like that.”

“It’s a bit pathetic,” Maxine said.

“Hey,” you said, your eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Hold your horses, that’s unnecessary.”

“Don’t be gettin’ so defensive,” Bobby-Lynn said with a smile that was to die for. “We’re here to help.”

“By throwin’ my self-esteem out the window?” You asked.

“Oh no,” Maxine said with a slowly growing smile, “it’s much better than that.”

This time, when your stomach twisted into knots again, you didn’t feel quite so dreadful about the upcoming plans.

—---

After Bobby-Lynn and Maxine had told you about their sneaky little plan, the parsonage had felt a little less like a prison. When all the guys got back and everyone finished upstairs, you almost felt at peace. There was still the lingering tension when both Lorraine and RJ were in the room, but you could work with it. And for once, you didn’t feel quite so bad when you met Lorraine’s eyes.

“How many scenes we got left?” Wayne asked when everyone settled downstairs for supper.

In a very selfless move, you had offered to cook. It certainly wasn’t because you didn’t want to have to look at anyone while Bobby-Lynn and Maxine got to work on their plan. That would have been selfish, and you were nothing if not a good, selfless, Christian girl.

“Only two or three, we can finish them tomorrow,” RJ said from his spot beside Lorraine on the couch.

“Me and Maxine have an addition to make,” Bobby-Lynn said.

“An addition?” Wayne asked. “What kind?”

“Well,” Maxine said, drawing out the word for longer than necessary, “we were thinkin’ our little Preacher would look awful pretty on her knees.”

“Excuse me?” Lorraine asked.

Suddenly, the food you were cooking required the utmost attention. It would be quite the shame if you burned something. After all, everyone back there was working rather hard on their scenes, they deserved a good meal, didn’t they? And if it gave you an excuse to not see the look on Lorraine’s face then, well, that’s just an added bonus.

“Fitting, ain’t it?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“And we’d take good care of her,” Maxine drawled. Oh, they were really testing the waters.

It seemed to be working.

“She’s not part of this,” Lorraine said.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” RJ said. “Might draw more attention to the film.”

“It’s smut, RJ,” she continued, “it draws enough attention on its own.”

“Well hold on now, let’s talk this out,” Wayne said.

Everyone started talking - except, you noticed, for Maxine - and you almost wanted to laugh. If you had known this was all it would take to get Lorraine on edge, you would’ve said something like this ages ago. It sounded like she didn’t even care that RJ was in the room. It was… a nice feeling.

“Did you plan this?” Beau asked, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said softly with a shrug. “Everyone here has a mind of their own.”

“Well keep it up,” he said as he rested his hand on the small of your back, “because I think it’s workin’.”

“The answer’s no,” Lorraine said.

“Well why don’t we ask her?” Bobby-Lynn said.

Silence fell over the room quickly; it was suffocating. If you could have, you would have slunk away to the room you shared with the boys. Even before turning around you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. Maybe, if you were really lucky, you could get away without actually answering the question.

That possibility was struck down the moment you turned your head to look out into the room.

Lorraine was looking at you expectantly, most likely believing she knew what you were going to say. In any other situation, she would have been right. You wanted no one but her, and everyone was more than aware of it. Well, everyone but Wayne, RJ, and potentially Jackson. Though judging by the way Jackson was looking at you, he knew too.

“Might be fun,” you said with a shrug and turned back around. “I can always repent next door.”

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked.

At that you turned back around and leaned your hip against the counter. Was she really going to question you? After what she did for a living? Not once had you ever judged her for it, you had even helped her make light of it when she felt guilt creeping in. She had the nerve to question you?

“Like a heart attack, honey,” you said with far more confidence than you felt.

The look Lorraine gave you was deadly.

“Seems we got our answer,” Maxine said.

Lorraine missed the look she gave Bobby-Lynn.

—---

You hadn’t been asleep for long when the door of your room creaked open. Part of you wished it would have stayed closed; it was the first night you weren’t sleeping on the floor while Huck and Beau took the bed. Maxine was becoming a godsend; she’s the one who had convinced the boys to sleep in the van outside.

“Are you asleep?” Lorraine asked quietly after the door had clicked shut.

“Yes,” you said even as you sat up and looked at her.

She was in the nightgown you remembered getting her for her birthday. Her other one had been so old, there was no way it had even been comfy anymore. Not to mention she had made sure to let you know at every opportunity how badly she needed a new one. Clearly RJ hadn’t listened, so you had gotten it yourself. It was mighty cute, if you did say so yourself.

Lorraine tip-toed her way to the bed, whispering a quick “scoot over” before crawling underneath the covers with you. Even though the temperature outside was mild, her feet were freezing. Which she made sure to make you aware of when she stuck them against your legs, her smile taking over when you yelped and shivered.

“Were you serious about doin’ a scene with Bobby-Lynn and Max?” She asked as she reached out to force her folded hands between yours. She was freezing all over.

“Depends,” you said even as you started trying to warm up her hands. “Were you bein’ serious about tellin’ me no?”

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly.

“Then so was I,” you said.

Lorraine groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” you said just as quickly.

Even though you weren’t serious at all. That was never the actual plan. The plan was simply to get Lorraine jealous enough to come into the room and, what would you know, that’s exactly what she had done. Even if absolutely nothing else happened, you would be happy. At least you got to spend a night with her without having to keep it a total secret.

“Why would you want to do this?” She asked. “It’s not like you don’t know how it works.”

“Maybe I want to learn a few things,” you said with as much of a shrug as you could do lying on your side.

“What could you possibly learn from smut?” Lorraine asked. “It’s all fake.”

“Were all those noises you made fake?” You asked. “Cause you never do that with me.”

The look on her face was almost offensive. Her eyes lit up like she was in on some little secret. Was she really going to laugh at you? She never laughed at you, not even when she rightfully should. Her hand now cupping your jaw was not enough to distract from the fact she was laughing.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” She asked. “You think I don’t like havin’ sex with you?”

“Not that you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “Just that,” you sighed, “you don’t like it as much.”

Her thumb brushed against your bottom lip. “You make me feel things none of those guys could even dream of.”

“Well you have to say that now,” you said as you leaned further into her hand. “Otherwise I wouldn’t let you put your cold feet on me.”

Her smile slipped to something a little different, a bit more seductive. You didn’t put up any resistance as she used her elbow to push your shoulder until you were laying on the bed. With the same ease as you had seen numerous times, she followed, her legs on either side of you and her weight resting comfortable on top of you. A position you very much loved, even without the arousal that came with it.

“Is there any way I can convince you not to film tomorrow?” Lorraine asked, lowering her tone in such a way that had you squirming underneath her. “What can I do?”

God you were pathetic, she hadn’t even touched you yet.

It was supposed to be a simple question, but you took it to heart. Of course she could convince you, you weren’t planning on filming anyway, but what could you get out of this arrangement? There had to be something you truly wanted, especially now that you had some sort of leverage.

Ah. That was it.

“Somethin’ we haven’t done before,” you said. “Somethin’ you like.”

Her smile slowly grew as she thought of what she wanted. The weight on top of you shifted until her hands pressed your shoulders further into the mattress. You felt her breath on your lips before you felt her kiss, quick and soft and eager. It was enough to get your heart racing even when she pulled away. She was off you in a moment, practically running out of the room.

You sat up on your elbows and watched the open door. What was she doing? Surely she wasn’t going to just leave, right? No, she wouldn’t do that. Right? That had been one of her more mischievous smiles, and she was absolutely one for payback. But you also knew Lorraine was nothing if not eternally aroused, so surely she wouldn’t just leave.

At least she better not, because if she teased you like that only to go and get back in bed with RJ, you were going to lose your mind. You weren’t usually one to make a scene, but you could always make an exception. The wrath of God, and all that good preacher nonsense.

You’re in a house of sin.

Yes you were, and you were going to partake in it for the night. Repentance was only 50 feet and a few hours away. If Lorraine could remove her cross necklace during scenes, surely you could remove the guilt from your chest for a few hours. God may have been in the walls, watching your every move, but He could look away for the time. You were far past the point of caring.

By the time Lorraine came back into the room, you were already jittery. Her hands were behind her back as she closed the door quietly, the click almost inaudible. that mischievous smile was back, but you noticed the way she tapped her foot against the floor, still in the same spot.

“You promise you wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, her voice uncertain, carrying over the thick air.

“I’m sure,” you said, “just get over here.”

Her steps were slow, methodical on the straight path to the bed. The whole way her hands stayed behind her back. You wondered what she had, but you couldn’t think too hard. Hell, the sway of her hips could have made you forget your own name.

That familiar weight settled on you again as Lorraine straddled you, placing whatever was in her hands off to the side, just out of your sight. When  you tried to twist and look at it, she pressed down against your shoulders again, her lips instantly finding yours.

Her nightgown rested high on her thighs, and you were never one to keep your hands to yourself. She sighed when you slid your hands under her nightgown, resting on her hips. Her breath tickled on your cheek. You couldn’t hold back your quiet chuckle, which Lorraine returned, smiling into the kiss.

“Don’t tickle,” she mumbled against your lips.

“What,” you said just as softly, “that ain't romantic?”

She laughed again, eliciting the same sound out of you as your hands continued up. Your knuckles brushed against the underside of her breasts, transforming her laugh into something a little more breathy but no less joyful. A sound that, you decided, was much better than anything you had heard during her scene.

“Take it off, Raine,” you said.

“What's the magic word?” She said before sitting up straight.

“Please,” you said breathlessly.

She barely waited for the word to leave your mouth before she pulled the nightgown over her head. Every time you saw her undress was like the first time. Your heart raced as she uncovered every inch of skin, from her thighs to her hips to her breasts. Not a single space had been neglected by you in your times together, and you weren't going to start that night.

You sat up, keeping a hand on Lorraine's back to keep her in your lap. She didn't hesitate to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. It immediately shot a wave of arousal down your spine, pooling in your lower abdomen. And for once, that usual spark of guilt was absent.

“Yours too,” she barely managed to say between kisses.

You couldn't speak, simply nodded as you fumbled around like a teenager. Or course the hem of your shirt would hide from you on the one night you not only had Lorraine, but a bed. She laughed again and pulled away. You tried to chase her - you would always try to chase her - but she pulled back again and placed a finger to your lips.

“Let me help,” she said.

Her fingers were so light against your skin that it tickled. She found the hem of your shirt quickly but took her sweet time pulling it up. Those delectable nails of hers scratched against your skin the entire time. Over your sides, the sides of your breasts, the underside of your arms as you held them up for her to finish pulling the shirt off.

“Is this Beau’s?” She asked.

“It’s comfy,” you said meekly.

She tossed the shirt to the side. “You should wear one of mine sometime.”

“I thought you liked me better shirtless,” you teased.

“Maxine has a word for people like you,” Lorraine said when she pulled you back in for a kiss. “She'd call you a minx.”

“I like it,” you said, kissing her back and running your knuckles over her nipples. Her shiver was delightful. “Sounds downright sinful.”

“Stop talking,” she said.

And oh god you did. How could you even consider doing anything else when you were enveloped by her? Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin, warm against yours. If kissing her was the final nail in your coffin, you would accept death gracefully and with no regrets.

She nipped your lip when you lightly pinched her nipples. Never hard enough to hurt, no, but just enough to draw the most perfect little yelp from her lips. In return, her hands fell to your ribs, pushing against you until you were laying on the bed again.

You shifted, pulling your knee up until you pressed against her. She let out a breathy sigh, but otherwise kept kissing you. There was just something mesmerizing about the way she tasted. An ambrosia not for the gods, but for you alone. A sustenance for your very mind, body, and soul.

“Take these off,” Lorraine said, pulling lightly against the pants that you had also stolen from Beau.

In your defense, he was your fake boyfriend.

“Will you take yours off?” You asked even though you had already started trying to take your pants off.

She nodded hastily. “I want to feel you for a moment.”

You would've happily let her feel you for as long as she wished. All she had to do was give you the smile she was giving you in that moment. The one she had before the accident, the one she saved exclusively for the times she was alone with you. If she looked at you like that for the rest of eternity, you would be in heaven.

Her skin was hot against yours as she laid completely on top of you. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and back as she tucked her head into your neck. Her breath tickled your collar bone, but you couldn't have been happier.

How could such peace be a sin? Such pure love, something that would not only be applauded but praised if you had but been born a man? What difference could there truly be, aside from the shape of your body. The guilt sparked in your chest once again, but this time, you quickly stomped it out.

You would not be shamed for loving Lorraine. Not that night.

The position you were both in was comfortable and, quite frankly, innocent. But that didn't ease the inferno that was still raging inside you. If you had the ability to have Lorraine to yourself more than once in a blue moon, you would have been satisfied. But the “lust of the flesh,” as daddy called it, was as present and angry as always.

Thankfully, Lorraine seemed to feel the same when you felt her hips move and you felt her arousal on your thigh.

“Wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, placing a seemingly innocuous kiss behind your ear.

“With you?” You asked. You placed your finger under her chin and lifted her face until you could see her eyes. “Always.”

She smiled and kissed you quickly before sitting up. You tried to sit up with her, but she used her bad hand to push you back down with ease. Not that it stopped you from trying to look around her to see the thing she had brought into the room. Her smile turned nervous, but no less excited as she finally turned back around.

“Is that-”

“-Maxine and Bobby-Lynn used one like it a few times,” Lorraine started to explain while she started pulling straps around your hips and thighs. “I asked ‘em to get me one not too long ago.”

“Jesus, Raine,” you said as she pulled the straps tighter.

“It works the same as-”

“-I can guess how it works,” you interrupted.

Her hands slowed to a stop as she finished securing the… phallic toy in place. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Lorraine,” you said as softly as you could, finally sitting up - as best you could without feeling too awkward - and placing your hand on the scarred side of her jaw. “I’m more than okay with it.” She leaned further into your hand. “If you asked me to wear only my boots and spurs, I would do it.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, her teasing smile coming back in full force.

“Don’t push your luck, Day,” you said before leaning forward to kiss her again.

She moaned softly into the kiss. “If I did it right, you should feel it too,” she said as she lifted herself onto her knees, hovering over you. “So let me know.”

You nodded and pulled her into a kiss. As curious as you were to watch, you wanted to feel her lips against yours. You knew the moment she lowered herself onto the toy; her gasp was to die for. Shorty, breathy, almost inaudible if you hadn’t been kissing her already. The sound alone was enough to leave you soaking and needy.

But then you felt the toy press against you, and you knew you were a goner. Lorraine stayed still in your lap, catching her breath, and you would have been more than happy to keep her there. If she moved, you swore you would cum on the spot. It wasn’t a feeling that was so much better than everything else, but simply the knowledge that you were both feeling something together.

“I guess it works,” Lorraine teased even though she could barely keep herself in control.

“It does,” you said through clenched teeth as you tried to stay strong when she started moving again.

She didn’t have to move for long before you pulled her into a kiss, holding her tight against you. You did your best to move your hips with her. It was awkward and clumsy, and you both laughed a little when, more than once, you moved wrong and the toy slipped out. But you were okay with that, because it meant you got to hear her little gasp again.

As wrong as it felt, you had to picture Jackson to get a good rhythm going, or at least to get started. Specifically, you thought of the way his hips had moved with each thrust. You knew you got it right when Lorraine moaned, her head falling to your shoulder. If you hadn’t been so focused on not cumming or losing your rhythm, you would’ve moaned just the same.

“Baby,” she mumbled against your neck. Her nails dug into your shoulders; you would have to cover the marks up in the morning.

You knew what she wanted; she only ever truly called you “baby” when she was almost ready to cum. And you were more than happy to oblige. You kept one arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her in place while your free hand slid down her stomach. Past the almost unnoticeable scatter of scars and through that small patch of hair.

Her hips jolted against your hand when you brushed against her clit. It was sloppy work; you would need to get used to the unusual angle later. But clearly it didn’t matter, because while her moans stayed quiet, they got higher in pitch until she bit down on your shoulder.

You used that as your sign to follow her, not even needing three more thrusts before you tipped over the edge along with her. You held her tight, hyper aware of every inch of her skin against yours. Of the slick sweat that coated both your bodies. Of the sting of her teeth and nails, but you would rather die than have her stop. Of your breaths intermingling between you until you were of one breath, one heartbeat, one soul.

Heaven existed, and it was right in that moment with Lorraine.

“You’re bleedin’,” she said softly. You didn’t have to look to know what she meant.

“It’s alright,” you said, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. “You can nurse me back to health later.”

Lorraine giggled. A light sound that reminded you of when you were all kids and you would do anything to get that sound out of her. It was a reminder of simpler times, back when you were too young to understand that everyone believed what you felt for each other was wrong. A sin. Back when love was just that; love.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, pulling Lorraine with you. She made a small noise when the toy moved inside her, but quickly settled back onto your chest. Her nails felt good scratching lightly against your skin, more comforting than ticklish. A nervous habit of hers.

“Did you learn all that from Jackson?” She asked.

“Don’t remind me,” you said; she chuckled. “I ain’t proud to say I had to picture him there for a minute.”

“Well, you gave him a run for his money,” she said.

“Think so?” You asked; you felt her nod against your chest. “Cause you still didn’t make the same noises.”

“Because these were real,” she said. Her voice grew quiet. “Everything with you is real.”

You wished she wouldn’t say things like that. That she could just let you both lie there, comfortable in the silence. Everyone was aware of the situation, but just once you wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That you actually did get to love her without feeling shame or guilt.

You just pulled her closer.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” she repeated.

It wasn’t enough, but for the moment, you were going to pretend it was. For the moment, you could pretend this was your daily life. Being in the same bed as Lorraine, showing her just how much you loved her, how much she truly meant to you. Holding her tight until you were of the same body and spirit, because no matter what the world thought, you were.

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

“Are you really goin’ to film a scene tomorrow?” Lorraine asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said. “Bobby-Lynn and Maxine just wanted to getcha all riled up.”

Lorraine lifted her head from your chest and lowered her brows.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you said with a smile.

“Sometimes I hate all of y’all,” she mumbled, quickly ducking her head back underneath your jaw. You still managed to catch the smile on her lips.

“I love you too, darlin’,” you said, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Now this. This was enough.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 3

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: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days. 

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow. 

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested. 

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection. 

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.   

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“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. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process. 

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head. 

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.   

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.  

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you. 

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand. 

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song. 

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while. 

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade. 

You let out a wry chuckle. 

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily. 

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last. 

Past tense, he noted. 

“Good guy?” he asked. 

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines. 

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough. 

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said. 

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them. 

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand. 

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories. 

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement. 

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.” 

You covered your face and laughed. 

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.” 

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

 Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape. 

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased. 

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.” 

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended. 

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded. 

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends. 

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners. 

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea. 

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased. 

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.  

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes. 

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked. 

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you. 

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied. 

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in. 

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary. 

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.” 

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—” 

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice. 

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon. 

Then you wished him a good night. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck. 

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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[sofs16]

let you break my heart again—2

series link #SOF: biggest thank you to @rocksanneig for helping with the translations 🤍🤍

“hello! ”charles said to the (y/h/c), giddy that yn came.

the big part of him knew yn would come. she was always there. but he told himself not to be too confident and maybe there was a small chance she wouldn’t come. he told himself maybe she just needed a little more time.

but there she was, standing tiredly in front of him with her pillow hanging to her side, the pillowcase charles had gotten for her was hanging in between her finger tips.

yn had been complaining about the itchiness of her pillowcase and the next day charles was handing her a bag of soft pillow cases he had bought with some of his racing money.

“salut hi” she whispered, subconsciously using french as the language whilst she shivered from the sudden wind. “come in! ” charles opened the door wider, making sure she got in before closing the door behind her. he took her other hand gently and hurried to the living room. her heart rate had quickened at his touch.

all the leclerc’s were aware of them occupying the living room, pascale made sure arthur and lorenzo wouldn’t disturb the two teens. she had always loved yn as her own daughter and wanted nothing more for them to stop fighting — maybe even a confession.

“i am very very sorry, yn. i can not apologize enough but thank you for coming.” he sat her down the couch “ouais yeah” she mumbled, still unease with her paced heart rate and the situation.

“y/n/n, dis quelque chose say something” charles sighed, nudging her after a while of silence and she shook her head “'tu sais ce qu'on dit dans le code des filles -ou le code des garçons, charles ? on met pas ses amourettes avant sa meilleure amie. you ever heard of girl code— even boy code, charles? you don’t put ‘flings’ or whatever before your best friend”

“je sais, je suis désolé- i know, i’m sorry-”

“'Non tu sais pas ! T'es même pas amoureux de Lacy. C'est qui pour toi ? La troisième fille avec qui tu sors cette année juste parce qu'elle trouve que t'es beau et qu'elle t'aime bien ? C'est pas comme ça que ça fonctionne. no you don’t know! you don’t even like lacy. what is she? your third girl of the year just because they say they think you’re hot and they like you? it doesn’t work like that.”

“Tu te mets pas avec quelqu'un parce qu'il t'aime et que tu apprécies le fait qu'on t'aime; tu te mets avec quand c'est réciproque. Ça fait souffrir l'autre personne! you don’t get with someone just because they like you and you like that someone likes you; you get with them when you actually like them. it hurts the other person!”

“i.. i am not with lacy anymore” he mumbled, fiddling with the knit blanket. she raised a brow as if she had proven her point.

‘don’t expect anything’ yn quietly reminded herself

“she broke up with me” she looks at charles. what kind of an idiot would leave him? sure, charles had his flaws, but to yn he was the only man who she considered ‘perfect’ even in his own way.

she gave charles a hug. charles always found comfort in her hugs, an indescribable feeling to him.

“i’m sorry charles but that doesn’t excuse what you did. it may be small to others but the one day i asked for us to have, you leave me waiting for hours.” she whispers

“i know, i will never do it again! i promise!” and he stood by that. “sorry about your breakup though” she mumbles, pulling away from the hug “It is okay, at least we get to spend more time together, like before!” charles smiled “got any upcoming races?” she leaned back on the couch, changing the topic. she did not want a fight, she wanted him to understand, maybe a little too naive at the time.

“one next next week.” charles leans over to open a bag of chips, offering her some. “i wish i could go but i’ve been slumped with work” yn sighs, munching on her chips “don’t worry! i’ll ask maman to video it all so we can watch it together”

“i can’t wait for you” she says with a small smile before they fall into their usual chatter, forgetting to even watch a movie.

pascale finds them both sleeping on the couch, charles embracing yn. she takes a photo of them on the polaroid camera lorenzo recently got for the family. she puts it in a memory album charles doesn’t know exists. It has pages of them growing up together.

1 month later, october, is the peak of senior prom talk. the schools in monaco aren’t as large as others, meaning word spreads fast. charles recently got with another girl, heather, who he thinks is the one. but he’s 15, what does he know?

yn hasn’t bothered to speak about it since the last argument… rather, the lack of argument. she hangs out with charles once or twice a week and to her, that’s enough.

during a usual leclerc- yln dinner, charles mentions him going to prom with heather. the others indulge in that topic as pascale turns to look at yn. she sees the young girl looking down at her food, keeping her eyes trained on the pasta.

“what about you, yn? any cute boys?” lorenzo asks, making yn look up. charles looks at her as well.

charles hadn’t thought about that.

“um.. a few have asked but.. i didn’t really say yes” she shrugs.

“why not”

“how come”

“are you going alone?” the others push more follow-up questions. “i don’t really know... besides, shouldn’t we be talking about lorenzo’s girlfriend?” she smiles and tries to shift the conversation, which thankfully works.

ironically, the next day at school, one of the few boys yn may actually think is cute, asks her to the prom. “sure” she smiles. a little company can’t hurt anyone.

as mentioned, word travels fast in their school. hence charles storming into yn’s room at 9 in the evening. “you did not tell me” “charlie, it doesn’t hurt to knock sometimes” she says, putting on some moisturizer.

“you did not tell me you were going to prom with— what is his name? philus ?” he repeats “it’s philippe” she cocks her head to the side, setting the moisturizer down

“why did you not tell me?” “charlie, he asked me out today”

“and?” “charles, you literally just got home from your date with heather. why do you think?” she said, exasperated

“you could text me!” he bickers “why is this so important? i would have told you yesterday!” “Because we do not talk as much and I— I just want what is best for you” “And whose fault do you think that is?” she whispers

history repeats itself, another girl, another argument.

charles quietly leaves the room with a muttered apology but comes back, just as quickly, to hug her and wipe the tears away.

“stop ditching me for girls, its pathetic of me to cry over this” she mumbled in his sweatshirt “i am stupid, do not cry over me, please”

he then hasn’t understood the layers to the argument, yet again, but there was an unspoken rule to him that he couldn’t go to sleep with you two being in an argument, not again.

the next week, charles takes yn out for a joint birthday dinner. she ends up paying for it after multiple quarrels on who pays. it was his birthday, after all. she ends up giving him a bracelet she bought for him. he told her that he would never take it off.

november strolls by and charles has never been more enthusiastic for yn’s birthday. she deserved a good one. he spoiled her that day and dragged her away for a moment to give her a necklace with a friendship ring, both their initials engraved. she thanks him with a tight, bone crushing hug.

january break is spent supporting charles’ races, being present in all of them.

february, prom finally happens. it would have been much memorable to yn if she wasn’t still hung up on charles. her date was kind and good for her. charles and her would subconsciously both look at each other.

though, that night, they all get home with little giggles, yn and charles saying good night to each other as they enter their houses. and just before charles can shut the door, he notices a letter sitting under the door mat.

he picks it up, paying no mind, until he sees your name. his first thought of his, to return it to you, is stopped when he sees the stamp of oxford.

— INSTAGRAM FILE

yn.yln.16

liked by charles_leclerc, and 394 others

yn.yln.16 little dinner plans for birthday boy here! #16!

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charles_leclerc How come you get the good photo? ⤷ yn.yln.16 my face isnt even seen charles… you always get it at horrible times 😅

⤷ charles_leclerc I guess I will learn photography for you so you stop complaining 😝

october 16, 2013

yn.yln.16

liked by charles_leclerc, and 502 others

yn.yln.16 Finally my favorite number!!! #16! view all 121 comments november 3, 2013

charles_leclerc

liked by yn.yln.16, and 310 others

charles_leclerc Happiest birthday to my constant, yn.yln.16! It has been a tough year for us but I always knew we would make it through! :) Thank you for always sticking by me even if I can be very stupid at times and always supporting me, you are everything to me. I love you! And also, 16 is my number 😠

view all 24 comments

facebookmom1 Cutest couple! ❤️

yn.yln.16 charlie :,) I’m tearing up. yn.yln.16 Thank you so much !

yn.yln.16 16 Is my number! I’ve had it since we were 3, back off!

november 3, 2013

yn.yln.16

liked by charles_leclerc, and 439 others yn.yln.16 last semester!!!!!! #senior view all 21 comments

charles_leclerc So well deserved! ❤️

january 12, 2014

yn.yln.16

tagged: lorenzotl, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, and leclerc_pascale liked by charles_leclerc, and 549 others

yn.yln.16 Boys insisted on a pre-prom drinking night to see my soda drinking tolerance😒

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leclerc_pascale 😍

charles_leclerc Nice necklace 😅🤪

⤷ yn.yln.16 Nice bracelet 😝

february 5, 2014

yn.yln.16

tagged: philippe_1996 liked by charles_leclerc, and 683 others

yn.yln.16 Prom 🤍

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philippe_1996 Beautifulllll❤️

charles_leclerc 😍😍😍

february 9, 2014

TAGLIST : @1655clean @uuzhanggggggg

@cmleitora @annie115

let me know if you want to be part of the list and your thoughts🤍

#charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc 16 #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines

[thebiggerbear]

Beau Arlen x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: He put you with Hoyt and Tonya. For the day. What the hell had he been thinking?

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I couldn't resist. I love Beau so much.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!DeputySheriff!Reader

Warnings: sex (smut-light); implied sex; mention of violence; mention of injury

Word Count: 2486

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version

<-->

You made your way past everyone in the station, intent on one office in particular.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Poppernak greeted you with a grin. His smile slowly faded as he took in your expression. “Everything okay?”

“Just dandy,” you spat, surging past him. His eyes widened and he quickly got out of your way. If you were pissed and heading where it looked like you were heading, then he knew the best thing to do was to stay out of your way and possibly duck for cover. He hoped that when all was said and done that the office was still standing… as well as its sheriff.

You stormed into Beau’s office and slammed the door behind you. The man in question, who was on the phone, frowned and turned to see you standing in place, fuming. You were pretty sure he could see steam coming out of your ears from the bugging of his eyes and his hurry to get off the call he was on.

“Gotta run, Jas. Get back to me as soon as you have something. Thanks.” He quickly hung up the phone.

“Who’s Jas?” You seethed as he studied you, most likely determining how to respond.

Apparently choosing to try to butter you up, he gave you a bright smile. “Jas — Jasmine from Tech. You know that, honey, you’ve met her.”

You snorted and slowly approached his desk. “Don’t you honey me, Arlen.”

“Why?” He chuckled nervously, a response he had when he was anxious or becoming so. If you were using his last name, you were definitely pissed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” Beau saw your eyes flash and he knew he had said the wrong thing. Oh boy.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in disbelief. “What’s wrong?!”

He knew better than to say anything else, especially since you were repeating his words in a rhetorical-yet-sarcastic manner. Besides, he knew you were going to tell him whether he wanted to hear it or not.

“What’s wrong is you sent me out with Hoyt all day.”

Beau relaxed a little, thinking maybe it had been something worse: a forgotten birthday, or maybe he was supposed to have done something you asked him to do but he didn’t — that kind of thing. “I did, but what’s wrong with that? You two have been getting along better these days and you work great together.” Your eyes narrowed and Beau realized he was in for a world of shit. He had tried to be complimentary and positive, but apparently that was the wrong way to go.

“What’s wrong is that you sent me out with her for the day. With Tonya.”

Beau briefly closed his eyes. He should have known this would come back to bite him in the ass. The truth was he had been caught off guard himself and had to quickly scramble to make it work. 

Seeing him hang his head, you hissed, “Yeah, exactly.”

Tonya and Donno, for some reason, had not moved on after everything that happened with Paige and the 15 million. All of you knew that the two had most likely gotten what they sought after; why they remained in town instead of taking off to some tropical paradise that catered to those wishing to remain anonymous was a mystery. You happened to think Tonya had something else up her sleeve, but like Beau had said: unless there was evidence of some kind of crime happening, there was nothing that could be done. You also thought that Beau and Hoyt were both purposely looking in other directions when it came to Tonya and Donno because the latter two had helped them in dire situations involving their family members. You didn’t really care about Tonya or Donno, but from what your friends had told you, both had put the group through the wringer — and often, at that. You had no desire to see that happen again so you’d rather see them skip town altogether instead of sticking around to further scheme things that could end up getting your friends hurt in some way.

Unfortunately, Tonya had risen in the ranks of realty; she was now one of Helena’s most sought after real estate agents, so much so that she had become friendly with the mayor and even began rubbing shoulders with some county officials. For some strange reason, out of the blue, Tonya decided she wanted to do a ridealong with law enforcement — your department specifically, today of all days. Beau, in a spur of the moment, decided to spare Pops and the rest of his department as well as himself, so naturally, you got saddled with that duty as did Hoyt. You knew Hoyt and Tonya didn’t get along, yet you had no idea just how much the two women hated one another. You basically spent the whole day keeping Hoyt from arresting the woman on some trumped up charge, keeping Hoyt from her own would-be assault charge, and endured hours upon hours of bickering. Tonya constantly — and loudly — questioned the two of you as you did your job, in front of perps, bystanders, and witnesses alike. She even told a suspect you were handcuffing — with a wink — that she knew a good lawyer who also happened to specialize in police brutality. The man decided to go all Mike Tyson and had knocked Hoyt down with a punch and tried to take a swing at you, forcing you to outmaneuver him and slam him onto the hood of your car to swiftly get his arms behind his back and regain control of the situation. But according to her, you were using brutality with him. Sure. You may have snapped out that she should get her ass back in the car before she’d join him, causing a smug smirk to form on the woman’s face. “I’ll get you that number,” she told the man, and then slinked back into the car. You grit your teeth and handed the suspect over to a deputy, going to check on Hoyt who was back on her feet, prodding at a bloody cut on her lip.  

Tonya had been a grade-A pain in the ass all day and she seemed to get off on irking both of you, Hoyt especially. And not once did Beau ever give you a heads-up on just what you would be facing after willfully sacrificing you and throwing you into the mess without a second of hesitation. For someone who used to be your partner back in the day, he sure hadn’t acted like one today. How could you not be pissed? 

Hoyt wasn’t happy with Beau either, but she was currently getting looked at by a doctor due to your insistence. Cassie had met you both at a walk-in clinic and she was waiting to drive Hoyt back once the blonde got the all-clear. Tonya had scampered off the minute you put your car in park, chirping how much she enjoyed today and thanking you for showing her how Lewis & Clark County’s finest did for their county day to day. Before you could retort, she was gone and you knew she definitely had something in the works that was not going to bode well for any of you in the long run. However, at that moment, you were so pissed you could barely see straight and you only had one destination in mind: Beau’s office. So here you were, infuriated and ready to send heads rolling. How could he do that? To you of all people? 

Beau sighed and got to his feet, rounding his desk to sit on the edge. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that today and when she requested Hoyt… I could’ve sent Pop, but I didn’t think he’d be able to shut any crap down as quickly as you would. That’s why I sent you with them. But, I should’ve been the one to go, not you, and I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you should’ve been,” you hissed, crossing your arms.

He nodded and, after a moment, he reached out a hand.

You snorted in disbelief. “Really?”

Beau didn’t say anything, only moved his hand in a come hither motion, holding it out for you to take.

You let out an angry sigh and rolled your eyes, but moved forward to place your hand in his nonetheless. He pulled you to him, framed your face with his hands, and softly kissed you. You refused to kiss him back but ultimately, like always, you lost the battle and gave in, gently grasping one of his wrists as you did. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered to your lips.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“I promise.” He kissed you once more and you began to relax and melt into him, even going so far as to wrap your arms around his neck and slot your mouth against his more insistently. He released your face and circled his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could place you on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips as you straddled him. You could feel the tell-tale bulge pressing against you. You could definitely use some stress relief after the day you had, yet still —

“I’m still mad at you,” you panted harshly as he pressed kisses down your jaw line, his hands roaming insistently on your lower back. You weren’t surprised when a moment later they traveled further south and squeezed while he moved you back and forth over his growing arousal.

“As you should be,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck. “Matter of fact, I think you should show me how mad. Right here, right now.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he began to suck on that spot right below your ear, the spot he knew drove you crazy. 

“I hate you,” you moaned, beginning to grind against him more insistently.

“You have a weird way of showing that, darlin’,” he chuckled, one hand on your hip now to help your movements. He bit his lip watching you grind on him and he let out a throaty groan. “Fuck, I ever tell you how much I love it when you get all riled up like this and you need to get it out of your system? Because I do. Hell, maybe I oughta do something that pisses you off every so often so you can— ” 

“Shut up,” you growled and covered his mouth with yours, plunging your tongue deep inside to taste him and effectively shut him up. You were practically riding him on his desk and he was doing everything he could to hold onto you while keeping upright. At one point, you got so turned on, you broke away and began unbuckling his belt, desperate to get inside his jeans. 

“Door’s not locked,” he panted out though he didn’t move to stop you. 

“Don’t care.” Normally, you would have cared, but the infuriating bastard was right: you had all the pent up anger and frustration from today coursing through your system. You needed to get it out, now. You yanked his belt through his belt loops and tossed it to the floor. “And just so we’re clear,” you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, reaching inside and grabbing him, making him hiss when you gave him a couple of pumps with your hand. “We are not done talking about this.” You got to your feet and quickly whipped off your jacket and shirt, leaving you in only your lacy bra. You stripped down and then gently pulled him out of his jeans. You climbed back up and stared down into those fierce green eyes that were currently blown wide with lust. Despite mentioning it, he didn’t seem too bothered by the unlocked door either. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped Poppernak and Madge didn’t walk in on something they couldn’t unsee because you highly doubted either of you would stop. You were both too worked up, especially you, and you were the one in control. Nothing short of a natural disaster or act of God would keep you from working the tension out of your body. Your phone buzzed on the floor, most likely a text from Cassie to let you know she was bringing Hoyt back to the station. Besides, you had a feeling that Pops witnessing your fury earlier and all of them out there hearing the never before slammed door, they most likely knew they should probably knock first before entering the Sheriff’s office. 

“Now, we have exactly twenty-five minutes, thirty if we’re lucky, before Hoyt gets here to rip you a new one herself. Think you can manage to make it up to me and have me all relaxed by then, cowboy?” You challenged.

His answer was to line himself up with you and push into you, making you gasp as his other hand gently pulled your hip down so you would sink fully onto him. You both groaned at the feeling and he gave you his own challenging smirk. “I think you better start moving,” he growled. “Because if she’s going to kill me, I intend to die a happy man. Which means I’m going to be buried deep in you, sweetheart, with you making a mess all over me for the fourth time.”

“Four? That’s super ambitious,” you teased. You began to move and pressed your lips together, balancing your hands on his clothed chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let her kill you. I love this way too much… And you.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed slightly and he suddenly shot up, making you adjust a little to stay on him, and he cupped your chin. “I love you, too, and darlin’...I am sorry.” You knew he was, you could hear it in his voice and see it deep in his green gaze. You gave him a soft nod and a tender smile, pecking his lips — one final sweet moment —before you pushed him back down onto the now cleared desk and resumed your position once more. He let out a chuckle at the devious smirk plastered on your lips.

“You will be,” you promised in a tease. You then went about working your frustrations out, Beau keeping to his prediction of getting you to a point that you were very relaxed (and mostly dressed albeit in need of a serious shower) by the time Hoyt stormed into his office. And just as you had promised, you made sure he survived Hurricane Hoyt and you even let him drive you home, his hand on your thigh most of the ride. You were pretty confident that he wouldn’t be making the mistake of throwing you to the wolves again anytime soon but you ended up enticing him to pull over into a discreet area to serve up a reminder once more just in case.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #beau x reader #beau x female reader #beau x you #beau x y/n #big sky fanfiction #beau arlen #big sky #prompt response #big sky fandom #beau arlen x female!deputysheriff!reader #female!deputysheriff!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #thebiggerbear

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Forgotten Anniversaries

masterlist

summary: beau forgets your two-year anniversary but you don’t realize the next day is another one

paring: beau arlen x female fiance!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 2.3k

warnings: language, ends with pre-smut but cuts off before anything happens

timeline: set after s3 but doesn’t really follow canon

author’s note: beau my beloved! such a sweetheart and deserves so much love!! really wish big sky hadn’t been canceled :,,(

Two years ago to the day marked your first date with your now fiancé. You had met Beau Arlen a few months before that date, and he had finally asked you out after several weeks of pining over you. You worked at a bakery in town walking distance from the station, and once you two started dating you often brought over baked goods for your boyfriend and his deputies.

Six months ago Beau had asked you to marry him, and you said yes. The wedding would be in just a couple more months.

Now, you were once again at the Sheriff’s station, Beau was taking you out for your two-years-dating and six-months-engaged anniversaries. Well, actually you were taking him out. He’d been really busy the last couple of weeks so you had planned the date; a picnic in the same spot he’d proposed to you at.

“Sheriff, Y/n is here to see you,” a deputy told him, poking their head into Beau’s office. Poppernak and Hoyt were in the office as well and they were all discussing an ongoing case.

“Let her in!” Beau beamed, covering a few gory pictures he had splayed on his desk.

“Hey,” you said when you walked into his office.

Beau’s face lit up at the sight of you; such a gorgeous woman who had somehow fallen in love with him. He felt like the luckiest man in the world as he eyed you, still smiling. You wore a summery floral dress that brushed your ankles, with a slit going up your leg and ending just below your left hip. A plunging neckline accented your breasts and the necklace Beau had gifted to you last anniversary. Your hair was done up, but not in a way that felt uncomfortable; it looked elegant but still felt laid back. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you noticed his blush.

“Ready to go?” you asked him, motioning to the door a little. His face fell and you slowly matched his expression.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“You forgot.” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek with disappointment.

“Could you two give us a minute?” Beau asked the deputies in the room.

“Yeah, do you want us to go without you?” Jenny asked, referring to what they’d been discussing about taking down the current perp.

“No, I’ll be out in a minute,” he told her before she nodded and left the room; Poppernak followed close behind, and shut the door as he walked out.

“You really forgot?” you asked Beau, looking at him with hurt in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n I just got caught up in today’s case,” he said. He stood up from his chair and walked over to you, putting a hand under your chin so you’d look at him. “I swear I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” you said quietly, smiling a little.

Beau furrowed his brows. “Why aren’t you mad?” he asked, you just shrugged a little. “Shit, you’re really mad, aren’t you? You wanna yell at me but we’re in a very public place so you’re waiting until tonight to really let me have it-”

“No,” you laughed a little. “Beau, I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed you forgot but that’s just because I was really looking forward to spending time with you! I had this whole thing planned and everything,” you said, mumbling a little by the end.

“A whole thing, huh?” Beau smiled.

“A picnic in the park where you proposed to me. I baked you a special pie, too.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I fucked it up, hun.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, he still didn’t seem to believe you. “You can make it up to me tonight, how’s that?”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you bit your bottom lip as you looked into his bright green eyes, “you can do that one thing I really like, then you’ll be completely forgiven.”

“Oh that thing,” he smirked, “yeah, I will gladly do that.”

He bent down and kissed you, snaking his arms around your hips to bring you closer as your hands went into his hair.

“I love you, Beau.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Poppernak knocked on the door and poked his head in, “Sorry to interrupt, but we really have to get going, Arlen.” Beau put his hand up, showing a finger to signal he’d be done in a minute.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” he mumbled against your lips. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mhm,” you hummed into his mouth as he kissed you again.

“I’ll be home by eight, nine at the latest, ten at the absolute latest, okay?” he assured you, you nodded. “Love you!” He kissed you one last time before he left, putting his cowboy hat on when he opened the door.

“Love you, too.”

**

As the clock struck midnight, you sank deeper into the couch. Your tear filled eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the movie you’d picked; Die Hard. Not the perfect anniversary movie but there was a whole story behind why you’d picked it, having to do with your third date with Beau.

You took another sip of the wine you’d been working on and checked your phone. Still nothing from Beau. The nerve! The absolute audacity this man had! He couldn’t text or call you when he knew he’d be late?

You adjusted yourself on the couch, the babydoll dress you were wearing riding up your bare thighs as a few more tears slipped down your cheeks. You looked away from Bruce Willis and down at the beautiful ring on your finger. Memories of six months ago flooded your mind. How Beau had been so nervous the whole day, as if there was a chance you’d tell him ‘no.’ How he looked at you when he knelt down and opened the velvet box and popped the question. How his smile grew when you answered him.

The front door unlocked, pulling you out of your thoughts, before Beau stepped into your shared house. He walked into the living room and found you there in the dark.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, walking to the couch and sitting down. You didn’t answer him and instead just took another sip of wine. “I’m really, really sorry, sweetheart.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge,” you muttered, putting the wine down. “Pie, too.”

“Darlin’ I’m so, so sorry I promise I didn’t mean to stay out so late. The case ran long-”

“And you couldn’t fucking call me?” you exclaimed. “You couldn’t just let me know two hours ago you weren’t gonna make it!? You know how many fucking candles I wasted!?”

“I broke my phone tackling the guy and I came straight here after he was officially in custody,” he told you.

“And do none of your many deputies have a phone you could borrow? Not a single person near you had a fucking cell phone?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! Hun, I am so god damn sorry!” He reached out and took your hand in his. You let him bring it to his lips and place a kiss on your knuckles. “Please, I love you so much, can we please just celebrate together for a bit before we go to sleep?”

“Our anniversary is over, Beau.” You took your hand back. “You fucking missed it.”

“Actually, today’s an anniversary too,” he whispered, you turned your head to finally look at him. He knitted his brows apologetically when he noticed your tears. “A year ago today, we were sitting on this couch and we had just finished watching Die Hard. You leaned over to kiss me, and as I was kissing you, you mumbled ‘let’s watch the next one.’ And, in that moment, something just like clicked in my brain, and I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“What?” you mumbled.

“Yep. Exactly one year ago today, I decided to ask you to marry me.” He smiled but it faded when he noticed fresh tears falling. “No, shit! Please don’t cry!”

“That is when you decided to marry me?” you asked, he nodded. “Oh my god!”

“A-Are you happy right now or are you still mad at me, because-” You cut him off with a kiss to his full, pink lips.

“I love you so much, Beau,” you whispered when you pulled away. You kissed him again, putting your hands on his face and smiling against his mouth.

“Love you so much more,” he mumbled, mirroring your smile.

“Wait,” you pulled away, worry in your eyes, “when was the last time you ate?”

“Uh, three-ish, why?”

“Oh my god, you must be starving!” you exclaimed and stood up. You held out your hand for him to take. “C’mon, I’ll reheat the food for you and relight the candles.”

“Seriously?” he asked, smiling and beginning to realize you’d forgiven him for coming home so late.

“Yeah, we’ve got a new anniversary to celebrate,” you replied. He stood up and took your hand, bending down to kiss you again. He followed you to the kitchen.

“Can I say something about what you’re wearing now or…” He bit his lip when you twirled to face him before you nodded. “God damn you’re so beautiful! Your tits look incredible!”

“You’re not too bad yourself, handsome.” You gripped his collar, got on your tippy toes, and kissed him deeply. He wrapped his arms around you so you couldn’t pull away and he could kiss you back. “I love you, Beau.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, c’mon! Sit down,” you said when you finally pulled away and his grip loosened. He took a seat at the table and you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingers through it before tilting his head back so you could kiss him again.

As you turned to reheat the food he smacked your ass lightly, making you squeal a little.

“Where’s the lighter?” he asked, wanting to light the candles on the table.

“Under the left candlestick,” you told him, bending down into the fridge to get the tupperware of food.

“Wow, you’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he mumbled. He lifted up the left candle to find the small lighter hidden underneath. He lit the two candles before he put it back.

“You remember what we ate on our first date, right?” you asked him hesitantly.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, earning a suspicious look from you. “I tried cooking spaghetti and meatballs for you, but I completely botched it. So, we ordered in from that Italian place on the other side of town—this delicious chicken parmesan dish with a side of ravioli. While we were waiting for the food, you made us a salad.”

You smiled at him, biting your bottom lip a little.

“Happy two year anniversary, Beau,” you said as you brought two plates over, one filled with the same food as your first date, except you made it yourself. “I can’t promise this is gonna taste nearly as good, but I promise it was made with love.” You took a seat next to him as he took a bite of the chicken.

“Oh my god!” he practically moaned. “This is incredible, sweetheart!”

“Thank you.” You smiled and began eating the salad on your plate. (You’d already eaten dinner but you didn’t want to just watch him eat without eating a little something yourself.) “Oh! I almost forgot the champagne!”

You stood up and got the bottle from the fridge before pouring some into his glass and then your own.

“Happy two year anniversary, Y/n,” he said and lifted his glass to clink it with yours.

“Happy one year of wanting to marry me,” you replied and tapped your glass to his.

“And six months of being engaged,” he reminded you.

**

You two were back on the couch, watching Die Hard even though it was now nearly one. Beau didn’t have work in the morning so he didn’t feel the need to rush to bed.

“Remember our third date?” he asked you quietly, his breath fanning your ear. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you were leaning on his chest. He kissed the back of your head as you intertwined his fingers with your own.

“We were watching this movie outside your trailer,” you started. “We were sharing a blanket and I kissed you. It escalated when you moved your hand down…” you took his hand and lowered it toward your torso, “here.”

“Then I kissed you here,” he kissed your neck, “and here,” he kissed down to your collarbone. He turned you around so you could straddle his hips.

“It was cold outside so you didn’t want to get me naked until we were inside and on your bed,” you mumbled against his lips. “So… want to move this into the bedroom?”

“If I remember correctly, you took your bra off under your shirt when we were still outside,” he reminded you.

“I did,” you said, still kissing him, “but I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“But you are wearing panties.”

He stood up, causing you to do the same. He sat back down and ran his hands up your legs and under your lingerie. He smirked up at you before pulling down your panties which you then stepped out of.

“Alright, now we can move this to the bedroom.” He wrapped his arms around your waist as he stood up, lifting you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He carried you upstairs and into the bedroom, kicking the door with his foot.

“Did you put roses on the bed?” he asked, smiling against your mouth when he noticed the petals decorating the mattress and the floor leading up to it.

“You did the same thing last year,” you reminded him, also smiling.

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen #beau arlen x you #beau arlen fic #big sky #big sky fic #big sky x reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Not My Brother

Summary: What happens when two guys looking exactly like you show up in your world yet no one bats an eye except the three of you? A whole lot of confusion. Especially when everyone keeps calling those guys you've never met before your brothers...

Pairing: None (features Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen & Ben/Soldiery Boy)

Word count: 8,600ish

Warnings: language, Soldier Boy's language, mention of torture, spoilers for Supernatural, The Boys & Big Sky

A/N: Here's the triplet fic! I wrote this basically a year ago and finally finished! Told from all 3 guys POV's. Enjoy!

_______

Beau

“I’ll be heading out in five,” I said, turning the corner with my eyes locked down onto a file. And smacking straight into a body. Poppernak bounced back, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, boss.”

“It’s fine Pop. What’s…” I trailed off.

Sat in the two chairs in front of my desk were what appeared to be my fucking twins. One had shorter hair and a days worth of scruff on his jaw while the other’s hair was a tad longer than mine, a beard on display. He was a bit more muscular than the other one, which was saying something since they were both strong. The one with short hair was more of my body type, his green eyes flashing with a flicker of surprise at the sight of me but then nothing more. He shifted in his seat, his flannel shirt riding up in the back. 

Meanwhile the other one looked pissed as all hell, jaw clearly clenched. Unlike the other one in jeans and workboots, the angry one was in a pair of sweatpants and a zip up, his sneakers absolutely filthy.

None of this would have been alarming if not for the fact that I was not a fucking identical triplet.

“Nollins found your brothers fighting again,” said Poppernak as I noticed the little scrapes on their cheeks and knuckles. “We brought ‘em to you per instructions.”

“Right…” I said, Poppernak staring at me. Was I hallucinating or something?

“You want to charge them?” he asked just as Hoyt walked into the doorway with a file in hand. 

“I need a signature…well if it ain’t the Arlen boys,” she grinned, looking at my clones sat in the chairs. “Let me guess, Ben started it.”

“I did not!” said the angry one. The short haired one quickly argued against that, Jenny giving me an apologetic smile.

“I thought Ben and Dean were getting along better lately?” she whispered as she held out a file and pen to me.

“Uh, guess not?” I said, quickly scribbling on the form she wanted me to sign. “I need to deal with this.”

“Night guys! Behave for your brother for once,” she said, giving them a quick wave. Poppernak left behind her, allowing me to shut the door and lock it after them. I closed my eyes and spun around, the two men still sat there. Oh god, I was losing it.

“What the fuck is going on!” I said. Dean and Ben shared a look as I held up a finger. “Ah. I know what’s happening. I’m having a stroke. Oh! I bet I slipped on that damn front step that’s been wet all day. I slipped and hit my head and now I’m dying on the ground somewhere. Huh. That’s sad. I never got to get Emily that motorcycle like I wanted. Is she going to cry at my funeral? Stupid question. Of course she’s going to cry. God, I hope she’s not too upset. Poor baby doesn’t deserve-”

My face was suddenly tingling, Ben standing there with his hand clenched as I cupped my cheek.

“You punched me!” I said, the pain feeling way too much like a real hit. “What kind of near-death hallucination is this!”

“Stop being a fucking pussy and man up. You think I’m happy about losing my powers? You don’t see me being a bitch and crying about it,” said Ben. Dean yanked him back, pointing a finger at him. “You want to go again?”

“Shut up and sit your ass down!” Dean growled. He rolled his eyes, turning to me with a friendly enough smile. “Relax dude. You’re not dying, okay? I have a good idea of what’s going on and if I’m right, me and jackass over here will be out of your hair really soon.” He slapped my arm, dropping his smile when I stared at where he’d touched me. 

These guys were real. Like in the flesh real.

“Before you freak out on me, let’s take this conversation somewhere more private, hm? Maybe not a police station? Okay, Chief?” said Dean.

“I’m the Sheriff,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. 

“It’s just a nickname, buddy. You got a house? Let’s go to your house okay, Sheriff?” I nodded in what felt like slow motion, grabbing my jacket as Dean convinced Ben to come with us. 

If I was going to have a mental breakdown, at least the Dean one seemed nice.

“Where’s my airstreamer!” I said twenty minutes later when I pulled up to where my home should have been. Instead, a large, beautiful wood cabin sat in it’s place, nestled in the trees. “That’s not my house!”

“According to google it is,” said Dean. I glanced to my right, glaring at him as he scrolled through my phone. 

“How did you get that!” I said, trying to snatch it away.

“You tossed it in the cupholder, dumbass,” scoffed Ben from the backseat. “Is this numbnuts house or not, cocksucker?” Dean turned in his seat, his features tight. 

“First off, dickwad, I screw women. Second, there’s nothing wrong with sucking cock, got it?” he rolled his eyes and scrolled the phone more. “We totally would have a homophobic alter ego out there in some universe. We’re just that damn lucky. Even you with your Sheriff job and seemingly normal life, I bet it’s fucked up to a degree huh?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, Dean humming as he stopped his finger on the phone.

“I’m not homo whatever you called me,” said Ben, leaning forward in his seat. “I know what that means. I don’t care if a dude fucks a dude. You just look the type.”

“That’s still a problem, jackass. People don’t look-”

“Guys,” I said, swallowing thickly. “Can we just agree we shouldn’t judge other people, for anything besides their character and focus on more important things like what the fuck is happening?”

“Yes, Beau, excellent point,” said Dean, slapping my shoulder, giving Ben a glare. “Isn’t it?”

“Sure, whatever,” he said, getting out of the car. Dean slid out too with my phone, leaving me scrambling to put the car in park and follow after. “Oh you’re so a dirty cop to afford this place. I can respect that.”

“I am not a dirty cop!” I snapped, Ben raising his eyebrows as I got in his face.

“Well, well. Maybe our little pussy has a dick after all.” I looked back at Dean, his face in an apologetic smile.

“You can see how we got arrested for getting in a fist fight now, huh?” said Dean. He walked past me, slapping my shoulder before putting a hand on my back, guiding me forward towards the house. “So this isn’t your house, Beau?”

“Like I said, I live in an airstream on this plot of land. There’s an old cabin not too far but my house was right here this morning and now-”

“Fuck!” growled Ben. Dean and I froze, carefully spinning around to watch him fall to the ground on hands and knees. He started to shake, Dean moving fast over to his side. I looked around, this close to going back to my dying theory, when Dean hoisted Ben up, an arm around his body. 

“Beau. Inside. Now.” He was moving fast and I jogged up the few front steps to the porch, opening the door and flipping on a light switch. I blinked, catching a framed picture on the wall. It wasn’t one I recalled taking but I could clearly see why.

There was Ben, Dean and I, arms around each, wearing big smiles on what looked like some sort of camping trip.

“Beau!” shouted Dean, already past me and up the stairs, Ben clinging to him for dear life. “Find us a bathroom now!”

“Right, sorry!” I said, jogging up after them. I skirted around them in a hallway, finding a bathroom in the first bedroom I checked. I whistled as I hit the lightswitch, Dean inside with Ben, sitting him down on the floor before he reached inside the shower and turned it on full blast. “What’s-”

“He’s having a panic attack,” said Dean. I glanced down, Ben shaking hard, his eyes staring at the tile floor but not quite seeing anything. I didn’t even notice Dean leave, quickly back in the bathroom and returning to Ben, slapping a pair of noise-canceling headphones over his ears and wrapping a blanket tightly around him. 

Ben blinked, staring at Dean with tears in his eyes, anger and shame in every feature of his face.

“Go ahead and call me a cocksucker all you want man, but I ain’t leaving your ass until you’re though this, understand me?” Ben nodded once. Dean sat back next to him, sighing deeply. “Sheriff? Maybe you want to go tell your wonderful neighbors to fuck off with the fireworks? I want this guy with us when I tell you guys what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be back in ten.”

“Are you a cop? Or ex-military?” I asked Dean half an hour later. We were sitting on the large sectional in the family room of the home, big enough for more than three grown men to comfortably lay on at once. Ben glanced at Dean from where he sat by himself way down, steadily nursing his glass of bourbon and refilling it.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You act like it,” said Ben. He said that with certainty, a twinge of remorse in my gut for not realizing he was suffering from PTSD earlier.

“You must have served,” I said to him, Dean sipping from his cold beer. I drank from my own as Ben closed his eyes. “Like Dean said, I think we’ve all had some bad hands dealt to us. Maybe of our own doing, maybe not. I’m still pretty sure this is a fever dream and isn’t actually real-”

“It’s real,” they both said. 

“How do you know that?” said Dean with a nod at Ben. Ben smirked, slumping back in his seat.

“Where I come from, I was born in 1918. When I was a young man, I signed up for a secret war effort and then injected me with Compound V. It made me a superhero. Superstrength beyond what you two can even comprehend. Invulnerability. I never aged past my mid-forties. I was a war hero. A movie star. Women, men, everyone wanted to get fucked by me or be me. And then my team betrayed me, I was tortured for forty years by the russians, and they stuck nuclear waste down my gullet. But I was so damn tough it didn’t kill me. No, no. It made me powerful. I could fucking explode. Bring down buildings. Turn other supes human. Kill them.” 

Ben knocked back his bourbon and smiled, looking between Dean and I.

“I was born exactly like the two of you. Just a boy. Just a man. And I could do all that before they drugged me up and trapped me back in a box. So if all that was real, then I can believe that life has the ability to throw me into another fucking dimension, or whatever the fuck this is, too.”

My eyes couldn’t have been wider, Ben snickering at me but I couldn’t even try to be mad at him.

He’d been a fucking superhero? A superhero? That was-

“I hunt monsters. And demons and the supernatural and a whole bunch of shit. Even took on the devil and God a few times and won. Technically I died in 2020, even though I did that a bunch too, but I was dead dead last I checked and it was also like 2070 something last I knew and according to the calendar in your office it’s like fifty years earlier so something weird is definitely up,” said Dean.

My head turned slowly to him, eyes still wide, mouth gaping now. 

“Also, other worlds totally exist which what I’m pretty sure is happening. We’re all different versions of the same guy in different universes,” said Dean.

“You hunt monsters? What kind of fucked up world do you live in? At least he’s like superman!” I said, pointing at Ben.

“If superman does hard drugs off a hooker’s ass then sure, I’m like that guy,” chuckled Ben. My head whipped back to him, Dean holding up a hand. “Who died and made you the head of this operation in the first place, Deanne weenie? I'm the oldest. I’m in charge.”

“I spent forty years tortured in hell by demons, grandpa,” growled Dean. “I know what the hell I’m talking about so sit down, shut up, and let me figure out a way to get you back to whatever universe you belong in.”

“I spent forty years getting tortured too, cum guzzler. It don’t make you special,” said Ben, getting to his feet. Dean rose fast, the two of them bumping their chests against each other.

“Wait!” I jumped over the ottoman in the center of the couch, forcing them each to take a step back. I took a deep breath, Ben grabbing my arm to yank me backwards.

“Not now, kiddo. I need to finish what I started with this one,” said Ben. I planted my feet but Ben was strong. Maybe not super strong anymore but still, he pulled me back hard and fast. Fast enough to make me trip and hit my head on the way down.

“Ow!” I gasped, wrapping an arm around my head, slowly getting to my knees. When I opened my eyes, Ben was worriedly staring at me, his hand on my head. “Get off-”

“What is going on?” Ben asked Dean, looking over his shoulder. He was wide eyed when he looked back at me, looking me over. “Why the fuck do I feel bad I just did that? I don’t give a shit about you. I don’t know you. I don’t…”

I looked at Dean, his eyes closing. 

“When Ben had his panic attack-” I said, Ben growling. I ignored him, looking to Dean still. “When he was scared, you went full blown…you were acting like you cared about him.”

“For some reason, when that happened, something clicked,” said Dean, kneeling down on the floor beside Ben and I. He found Ben’s gaze and nodded. “It felt like you were my brother. Even when you pushed Beau just now, I don’t hate you when I easily could. I just…”

“Care that Beau’s okay,” said Ben. He held out a hand, helping me sit up, a gut punching hitting me in the stomach. I swallowed, the same thick swallow they were sharing. “Dean.”

“You’re using my name. Now I’m concerned,” said Dean. Ben groaned but I understood where he was going with this.

“Dean, I think what Ben’s trying to say is…this isn’t your guy’s universe and it’s not mine either. I have one brother and he’s not you guys so wherever the hell we are-”

“We’re brothers here,” said Dean. He closed his eyes. “This is our house too. There’s too many pictures of us in this house, the bedrooms are too different, the garage outside has my muscle car in it I’m pretty sure. Which means we’re in a completely different universe.”

“Or we’re not,” said Ben. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Ben slapped his hand over it. “We could be dead. Or in purgatory.”

“I was already dead and you two weren’t there,” said Dean. “Besides, it’s 2023. I was dead and Ben was in a box? Or some shit. We couldn’t die twice.”

“I wasn’t dead in the box, moron,” sighed Ben. “I was just in a coma kind of. On ice. For probably the next forty years.”

I stood up, needing something for the splitting headache between my ears. I left them to bicker in the family room, something nagging at me that this was familiar. It couldn’t be though, right?

I wandered into the kitchen and swiped some pills from the cabinet, ducking down the hall to a bathroom and tossing a few down.

“Guys?” Loud footsteps approached as I existed, holding up the bottle. “How did I know where this bottle would be? I’ve never been in this house.”

“I’d assume the medicine would be in the kitchen,” said Dean, Ben shrugging. I shook my head, shaking the bottle.

“No. No I always keep my medicine in the bathroom. I always have my whole life. My parents did, I did, my ex-wife. Always in the bathroom. So why did I know to go to the kitchen?” I asked.

“Because that’s where Dean keeps them, isn’t it?” said Ben, crossing his arms.

“I think I know what’s happening,” said Dean, very slowly holding up a hand. “Ben. You and I woke up on that trail, remember?”

“Obviously,” said Ben. “Get to the fucking point.”

“Beau, did anything weird happen today? Did you…did you have an emergency? Did you black out?”

“No. I was at work, pursued a thief, caught them-” Dean grabbed my wrist, his face tight. 

“How did you pursue the thief? Was it dangerous?” 

“It was on a motorcycle. It got a little fast but-”

“I know what happened,” said Dean. He dropped my hand and ran his own over his face, eyes wide. “I don’t know how to fix this. Fuck, I think we’re stuck until we die.”

“Fine with me,” said Ben. 

“What happened?” I asked, crossing my arms. Dean shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

“We are in a world where the three of us are brothers. Triplets obviously. And the reason the three of us care about each other and get flashes of things, like knowing where the pills were, are because we’re remembering lives that aren’t ours.”

“Uh…” Dean swallowed.

“Today Ben and I died. This version. We fell off a cliff while hiking. Ben fell and I tried to catch him but we both went over. And you Beau, you got hurt on that motorcycle. The versions of us from this world, they all died today. But for some reason, we all got put in the wrong damn bodies and now we’re here.”

“That makes zero fucking sense,” said Ben. He held up a finger. “Actually, it’s fucking stupid. It makes more sense that-”

“Nope, Dean’s right,” said a voice behind us. I spun around, a young man in his twenties smiling back with a wave. “Sorry, paperwork mix up. I’ll pop you guys back where you belong.”

“Hold up shortstack,” said Ben, striding over to the young man. “If-”

The man disappeared, Ben and Dean still close by. The familiar nagging feeling was gone but the three of us were still there.

“Jack! It didn’t fucking work!” said Dean.

“It did! You three are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Beau, I shuffled a few things around in your universe so Dean and Ben can stay. Ben wants to and Sam wants you to have a fair shot at life too so he’ll see you when it’s time, okay? Talk to you guys when you die! Bye!”

“The fuck is going on!” shouted Ben.

“This is why God should not be a child,” groaned Dean. “We’re stuck. We’re fucking stuck as brothers. For real now. All because man-child druggie over here wanted to not go back to being in a coma. I was dead and I was ready to go!”

Ben threw a right hook, Dean barely dodging it. He tried throwing another but I caught his bicep, yanking him away from Dean.

“Enough!” I shouted, holding up a hand in front of each of them, keeping them at arms length from one another. “You fucking calm down, Ben. And Dean, cut the guy a break for not wanting to go back to being captured.”

“He’s clearly a piece of shit. You heard him talking before, Beau,” said Dean. “I-”

“I said enough!” Dean’s jaw snapped shut, both of them huffing, giving each other dirty looks. “Ben, go take the bourbon and hang out on the porch, alright?”

He said nothing and went past, not without forcefully bumping Dean’s shoulder. When the front door slammed shut, Dean wiped a hand over his face again. “Really dude?”

“Beau, I get you want to be the nice guy but he doesn’t belong here and neither do I,” said Dean. I skirted past him, stopping in the main hall of the house, looking out the front door to find Ben sitting on the front porch with his head between his knees. “We don’t know Ben. Maybe he deserves to be locked up. Trust me, I’d love to be alive again but I want that with my real brother, not this place. Ben and I aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Actually you are,” said that young man’s voice again. We both looked around, the young man sighing. “Listen, Dean. This is Beau’s world, the Beau in front of you. Maybe I went ahead and switched things up a bit, made you guys all brothers and yes, you can recall memories when needed. Maybe I did fuck up Beau’s world. But there’s a reason for that. All three of you need each other. You-”

“I was at peace Jack. I-”

“You were bored out of your fucking mind in Heaven. Hey, you want to get back in the game? Consider this your audition. Help your new brothers,” said Jack. “Beau?”

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. “Yes, uh, Jack?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. But I don’t pop into your world often. You guys don’t get into as much trouble as say, the world Dean lived in.”

“Excuse me but who’s fault was that?” argued Dean.

“My point being, Beau, is to be yourself. Your ups and downs are as valid as your brother’s. Your monsters just don’t come with claws or lasers,” said Jack. “Now I really, really need to go. Dean, magic doesn’t exist here so yeah, you guys are stuck until you kick it. I promise I will pop you back to Sam when you do, okay? Just try to be there for each other. And maybe get a stiff drink in Beau. He’s pretty sure he’s lost his mind. Be sure to stay away from rebar!”

“Little shit!” shouted Dean. He grumbled but was quickly going to the liquor cart, grabbing a bottle of tequila and shoving it in my hands. “Drink.”

“Was that…God? Is God a kid in his twenties?” I asked, Dean ripipng the cap off, and pressing the bottle to my lips. I swallowed back two shots worth before he let me up for air, patting my back.

“Yes…technically he’s his grandson. God was a major dickhead. Jack’s cool but hands off which means-”

“Which means this is for real,” I finished. Dean knocked back some tequila himself before throwing an arm over my shoulders and leading me outside.

“We stuck?” grumbled Ben.

“Yup,” said Dean, sitting down on a porch seat, leaving me to lean back against the railing, taking another swig from the bottle. “Happy fucking new universe to us.”

“It’s actually pretty nice,” I hiccuped. Ben groaned and drank down a fifth of the bourbon bottle without so much as a flinch. I blinked, staring at him as I felt flashes of a memory. “You were in special ops. You went to rehab twelve years ago for a drug problem but you’ve been clean since,” I said. Ben narrowed his eyes at me, smirking darkly.

“Your wife divorced you and left you for a rich schmuck. Oh, and your kid potentially wants nothing to do with you. Sheriff.” I turned away from him, Dean closing his eyes in his seat.

“Can we all just agree to shut up and drink tonight?” sighed Dean. 

“Agreed,” we both said. No one said a word as we silently passed the bottles between ourselves. 

I knew I’d have a killer headache in the morning but I didn’t care. If I was ever going to have an excuse to get blackout drunk in my forties, this was it. But even as the three of us lay on the porch hours later, everyone too far gone to even move, something tickled the back of my mind.

“We used to have sleepovers on our parents porch,” I mumbled.

“Are our parents nice?” breathed out Ben. I hummed. “Is our dad?” His voice was thick, Dean shifting beside me.

“Don’t worry about it man. Look at Beau. I’m sure his…our parents are really nice people, right Beau?” said Dean.

“Good. I don’t want anymore shitty ass parents,” said Ben. I forced my head to the left, finding his back to me. He was soon snoring, Dean relaxing comfortably close by.

Maybe when I woke up, I’d realize this was all a very intense dream that had never actually happened.

Somehow I knew in my gut though that in the morning when the sun rose, Ben and Dean would be exactly where they slept.

And they weren’t going anywhere.

Dean

I groaned as I sat up. Sleeping on the hard wood of the porch had been a mistake. I noticed a blanket had been tossed over myself, Ben snoring loudly off to my side with his own blanket and hugging a pillow to his chest. 

The smell of coffee hit me and I hummed, wearily following it inside. Beau was in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of nearly white colored coffee and the thought to tease him hit me.

“You like to drink a lot of cream in the mornings do we Beau?” I said before I could help myself. Beau slurped it back, his annoyed smile letting the tightness in my chest relax.

“Only if he bought me dinner first,” he chuckled. “And yes, I like cream in my coffee. Sue me.”

“Leave some for the rest of us is all,” I said. He poured me a cup as I got out the carton, the two of us working around each other like we’d done it a million times. It was only when I sat at the kitchen island did I realize he was freshly showered and dressed, a badge and gun on his hip. “You going to work?”

“Yup,” he said, pouring more coffee in a travel mug. “I don’t get the most time off in the world and I’d rather save my vacation days for…”

Emily. In my head I saw a clear picture of her, a protective instinct towards her I’d only felt towards Sam before. Glancing at Beau though, I sensed it too and somehow, I knew it’d be there for Ben too.

“I’m so jealous of you,” I said. Beau fixed the cap on his mug while he worked on putting together a ham and turkey sandwich. “I mean…”

“You want to be a dad. I know. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” said Beau. “I get the feeling my daughter adores you and Ben.”

“The bastard has to have a soft spot somewhere,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder towards the front door, a pang of guilt rushing through my veins. “I can keep an eye on him.”

“I appreciate the gesture but Ben’s a big boy. He makes his own choices,” said Beau, sliding his sandwich into a baggie, tucking it away in a soft sided lunch box. “You guys probably have jobs too you ought to get to. Maybe check your rooms?”

“Good idea,” I said. I quietly watched him finish packing his lunch, Beau rinsing out his mug before placing it in the dishwasher. “I guess we’ll see you later today then.”

“Yeah. It’s friday last I knew so maybe we can order some pizzas, try to get to know each other?” I smiled, a small twinge of jealously in my gut again. “Sounds like a plan. Text if you need something.”

“Sure thing,” I said, watching him gather his things and start to head out. He froze halfway down the hall though, spinning around to look at me. His face was curious and bashful at the same time. 

“When you say you fought monsters, that include demons?” he asked. I nodded, his eyes widening for a moment. “Does…does salt actually keep them away?”

I chuckled, looking him over. I liked Beau more and more. “It’s actually ghosts the salt works on. Demons you need either an enchanted amulet or something like that or an anti-possession warding.” I peeled down my shirt collar, revealing my tattoo. “Doesn’t seem like an issue in this world.”

“I’d rather not know the answer to that,” he said, smiling softly. “Later Dean.”

I nodded, the house quiet for a beat. I trudged upstairs, finding a bedroom that I instinctively knew was mine. It was the room the three of us had crammed in the night before, the memory of Ben shaking on the bathroom floor forcing an unpleasant ache.

Only Sam had ever elicited that ache.

But something about Beau, even Ben…it rushed in my blood, made me hope Beau got to work safely. Made me wish Ben didn’t have to endure that kind of fear. 

“This is what I get for complaining that heaven was too fucking boring,” I mumbled. I opened a closet, eyes darting around for clues when I caught a pair of coveralls with my name stamped on the front. “I’m a mechanic? That tracks.”

My phone on the nightstand rang, an unflattering picture of Beau eating a plate of nachos popping up.

“Hey,” I said, flipping through the closet. “I think I’m a mechanic.”

“Actually it looks like you’re a firefighter. Your work badge is sitting on my passenger seat,” he said. “And uh, you’re probably going to be pissed but your name is Dean Arlen according to it.”

“It’s whatever,” I sighed, resigning myself to that fact I’d be spending the next forty years in this world. At least.

“Any luck on what Ben does?” I slipped out of the room, going to the one across the hall. 

“Nope. I just checked…aw, this must be your daughter’s room. It’s so pretty. Will you be my dad?”

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “I might be oldest but-”

“No offense kiddo but I’m pretty sure I’m oldest,” I said, closing the door and heading down the hall.

“Tell you what? I’ll look up our birth records when I get to work. Loser has to make dinner.”

“You’re on, kid.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled. “I’ll drop your ID off at the firehouse, okay? It’s down the block from the station.”

“Ten four, Sheriff.” Beau sighed and hung up as I pushed open a door, this room neat and tidy, a framed children’s drawing on his dresser. I went to the only other room in the hallway, grimacing when I opened the door.

Ben’s room was a disaster. Clothes everywhere. A pungent smell of old spice in the air. There were beer cans and bottles on nearly every surface. I almost decided to give up and assume Ben didn’t have a job when a slip of paper on a covered desk caught my eye. I slipped inside, frowning at it.

“Guessing this one’s mine,” grumbled a voice behind me. I spun around, Ben walking in with a glass of something gross looking. He took a sip and closed his eyes. “We should get a maid.”

“Or you can clean up after yourself,” I said. He chuckled, his features dark. “Is that beneath you?”

“Listen,” he said, putting the glass down and walking up to me, pressing his chest against mine. I was not a small guy but this one…he had twenty pounds of muscle on me easily. He stared me down, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know how they do things in your universe but in mine, people do what I say, understand?”

“We’re in Beau’s universe so tough shit. Here, you can be a damn man and clean up after yourself.” Ben leaned in close, smashing his nose against mine, a threat of violence in the air that reminded me of when I had the mark on my arm.

“Give me a reason to snap your neck, boy,” Ben growled. “Unlike that pussy cop, I don’t give two fucks about you or anyone else here.”

My instinct was to snap back, headbutt this asshole into the next century. But...if I couldn’t shake the feeling of giving a shit about these guys then that meant he couldn’t either.

“Then kill me Ben,” I said, raising my chin. “Go ahead. If you really don’t care, do it. I won’t even make it hard for you. Because I’ve died. I know where I’m going. You though? Something tells me you might end up going downstairs and trust me, you won’t like it one bit.”

Ben’s hand shot to my throat, a threat in the air. There was no pressure though, only his heavy pants in the air.

Suddenly it was gone, Ben storming across the room, throwing most of the things from the dresser onto the floor. Glass smashed against the hardwoods, items bouncing against the carpet before coming down with a hard thud. He kept his back to me, breathing heavily.

“I’ll take that as you aren’t going to kill me then,” I said. Ben mumbled something, shoulders shaking slightly. “Listen, you got crap? I get it. I get whatever the hell this is too. But it’s the twenty first century. You can get help and be a fucking man too. I have work. Can you survive on your own?”

“I don’t need a damn babysitter.” With a roll of my eyes, I left, going down to my own bedroom. After a minute, I wash changed into a fresh pair of jeans and had found a t-shirt with a fire emblem on it, one I assumed matched the fire station I worked for. I quickly grabbed a black flannel and a pair of white and dark olive green sneakers out of my closet, whistling to myself.

“You look new,” I said to myself, pleasantly surprised they fit so well. I jogged downstairs and noticed Beau had made up an extra pair of lunches while we were talking earlier, grabbing one and heading for the door.

“Wait.” I had my hand on the handle as heavy footsteps came downstairs, Ben changed into a baseball jersey and pair of tight jogger sweatpants. He slipped on a pair of sneakers in the tray by the door, staring at me. “Alright, let’s go, jackass.”

“I didn’t realize I was your fucking chaufer.”

“I’m drunk,” he growled. I nodded back at the kitchen.

“Beau made you lunch. Might as well take it before I drop you off wherever it is you’re going.”

“I’ll be back before then,” was all he said. Two minutes later we were on the road, driving in dead silence. For the first time I caught Ben smiling as we rode along in Baby, his hand running over the dash. “Ah. See this is a car I could drive. Don’t get me wrong. That cocksucker of a brother we have-”

“Don’t insult him.” Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The man might not have fought monsters like I did or had super powers like you but he’s divorced with a teenage daughter. And he’s a cop, in charge of all the other ones. In charge of this town. The man is kind but don’t underestimate him. He’s got crap too. He’s us, remember?”

Ben crossed his arms and stared out the window for ten minutes until we hit the edge of town. I wasn’t sure where we were going but I let muscle memory guide me, eventually coming up to a small complex of doctor’s offices. Ben didn’t move when I leaned forward, recognizing the name on the sign from the letter on his desk.

“You’re an asshole,” I said. I saw his lip twitch up in the passenger mirror. “Go on before I kick your ass out. I got work.”

“You’re such a bitch,” said Ben, climbing out of the car and heading inside the building without a second glance. I shook my head, driving down the road for a few minutes, passing by Beau’s truck out front of the police station. I let instinct take over, eventually finding a fire station down the block. I found an empty spot out front and parked, inhaling sharply.

“Here goes nothing.”

Work was amazing. I wasn’t just a firefighter. I had seniority. I worked on arson investigations. I got to teach little kids on field trips all about fire safety. It was like tapping into these untouched parts of my brain. The more I let go, the more memories filled in. One’s about work, about Beau and Ben. 

Maybe Sam had a point about forcing me to live a normal life like he’d been able to. I missed the hell out of him but I knew I’d see him again and for him, it wouldn’t be that long. In the meantime, I knew two guys that could do with my help right here.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” I said late in the day as Beau and the pretty female cop my brain told me was named Jenny pulled up to the scene of a small house fire. “We just put out that fire, Beau. What you doin’ bringing more hot things my way?”

Beau’s eyes glared as Jenny laughed, smacking my arm. “Oh, I love you Arlen boys. All of you are such flirts. Except Beau. That some sort of big brother thing?”

It was my turn for my face to fall as Beau threw his arm over my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. “It must be. My little brothers are such flirts. Especially the baby, isn’t that right, Dean?”

“By twelve minutes!” I said, dread filling my veins as a memory popped into my head. I so was not the baby brother. I hadn’t spent a lifetime of being Sam’s big brother to suddenly be thrust into baby brother status.

“Enjoy it, kid,” Beau whispered in my ear, slapping my back as he pulled away. “Everything settled here?”

“Space heater caused the fire. Minimal damage. No injuries,” I said, Jenny looking me up and down, a twinkle in her eye. “Jenny, you want to grab a drink after work?”

“I would but I have a hot date with Cassie. Unless you want to join us?” 

“Sorry, Dean’s going to have to take a raincheck. We need a little guy time after the incident yesterday. Plus Dean has oh so graciously offered to make us dinner,” said Beau, narrowing his eyes when Jenny wasn’t looking. 

“Right. How is Ben by the way?” she asked. “I thought rehab stuck this time.”

“It did for the drugs,” I said, my mind filling in a gap it didn’t know existed a split second before. “We’re still working on the drinking.”

“He’s cutting down,” said Beau as I found myself nodding along with him. We shared a concerned look, Jenny polite enough to not say anything.

“Well, I know he’s a big softie deep down. He’s making progress which is something,” she said, clearing her throat. “Beau, I’ll do a quick interview and write up the report.”

“Excuse me, are you volunteering to do paperwork? What demon are you being possessed by?” Beau teased. I stared at Jenny, probably too long, Beau grimacing behind her. “Uh, sure. Need a ride back to the station when you’re through?”

“Dean can give me a lift,” she said, a curious smile on her face. 

“Alright. Dean, I’m ducking to the grocery store. You’re making me pizza tonight,” he said. He waved as he walked away, Jenny crossing her arms and staring after him.

“Your brother is something else,” she said, dipping her tongue out past her lips.

“Oh,” I said as it clicked. “You’re hot for your boss.” She grabbed my arm, quite hard for how small she was, dragging me around to the end of the fire truck. 

“Dean, I told you I don’t know how I feel about Beau. I just…don’t say anything to him. Or Cassie or Ben or anybody, got it?” I held up my hands, Jenny letting out a small exhale.

“Can I ask a personal question?” 

“Careful, Dean,” she said but nodded anyways.

“Why not me? What’s so different about Beau and me?” I asked. She smiled softly, resting her palm on my bicep.

“You’re sweet, Dean. A good friend. You boys are similar in ways but Beau’s friendship…it lifts me up if that makes sense. There’s a light to him that-”

“I understand,” I said, flashes of memories that weren’t my own but were popping into my head. “Beau’s the good brother, Ben’s the bad one and I’m the one that’s known for sleeping around.”

“You’re known for pushing women away when they start getting to close Dean. I know you boys have only been in town a year but I’d guess that’s who you’ve always been. It’s a shame. You’d really make someone happy if you just let yourself.”

Awesome. I was the same guy in this universe, just without a legitimate reason for being alone.

“Thanks, Jenny,” I said when she pursed her lips. “Honestly.”

“Life’s funny. It doesn’t mean it’s too late for anything,” she said, walking past me. “If you know what I mean.”

“Like you wanting to fuck my brother?”

“Shut up Arlen!” she said with a huff. “All you fucking men…”

I had the feeling Beau was still very much in love with his ex-wife. Yet…something told me Ben and I got on his back about Jenny. One man and two potential women to enjoy?

I’d rather deal with the devil all over again.

Ben

My head was fucking killing me and not just from the hangover. Everything was so fucking confusing. There was too much information in my head. It was too fucking much. I knew what the internet was and bluetooth and all those other fake fucking words Hughie had made up. Or I thought he’d made up.

I’d been gone almost forty years and in that time everything had changed so fucking much.

Funnily enough, I fucking enjoyed therapy. It turns out I wasn’t a complete piece of shit. If you don’t give a shit about everyone equally, you’re just an all around asshole which was a step up in my book. 

But apparently my language was “inappropriate” or some shit. It “hurt” those around me. Like my brothers. Yeah right. Those two little shits would get hurt walking to the damn mailbox in my world.

Maybe not Dean. He seemed…angry in a way Beau wasn’t. But they were both still pussies by all standards.

It was getting late in the afternoon as I walked down yet another sidewalk in downtown, the air slightly cool. It must have been early fall based on the few trees starting to turn color. 

“Hey Ben,” said a gorgeous woman with a small wave as she struggled to get her keys in the door. Cassie. She was Beau’s friend and by proxy, mine too. 

“Hey,” I said, walking over, resisting the urge to comment on her ass as I took a box out of her arms.

“Thanks,” she said, opening up the shop door. “Today’s been a disaster. I can’t believe it’s already after three and I’m only now just getting in.”

“I bet,” I said, following her inside, trying very hard to keep my mouth shut. I mean this woman looked good. The old me from before Russia would probably already be screwing her over the desk by now.

“You’re abnormally quiet,” she said, taking the box from my arms. “And no flirting? I bet your interview didn’t go as bad as you think.”

“Interview?” I asked, Cassie rolling her eyes at me. 

“You know, the one you were supposed to have today…the security thing?” Memories flashed in my mind about Beau and Dean pulling strings with a friend of theirs to get me an interview with a private security company. A job I could clearly recall not wanting in the first place.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, catching a clock on the wall. This supposed interview was in less then fifteen minutes. “Doesn’t sound my style.”

She suddenly looked annoyed, setting the box on a counter off to the side. “Well I’m kind of busy so maybe you should go anyways.”

“Baby-”

“I have a boyfriend, Ben,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Go to the interview for your brothers sake.”

“Whatever,” I said, leaving and walking once again. It only took five minutes to find the place I was supposed to go but I didn’t want a fucking job. The only job I’d ever had was being a supe. A movie star. Model. All of those I’d made the rules.

Anyone who tried to make me do anything other than what I wanted could get fucked.

One Hour Later

I took the fucking job. Why oh why did I say yes to that fucking job? Worst of all, they wanted me to start on Monday.

At the fucking daycare. They wanted me to work at a fucking daycare at the front desk. Me. 

“Hey,” said Beau, pulling up to a stop on the street as I sat on a bench, a stack of black polos with the security logo stamped on them beside me. “You cool?”

“Just get me the hell home,” I grunted, grabbing the shirts and pilling into the passenger seat, grateful when he kept his mouth shut most of the way there.

“So uh, Cassie texted me.” I glared at Beau, his eyes on the road. “I guess you had a job interview?”

I mumbled the story to him, Beau making a surprised sound when I finished. “What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Means they must like you, must think you have the capacity to deal with an environment full of kids all day,” grinned Beau. 

I would have slapped him in the face if he hadn’t been driving.

“If I’m lucky I’ll die snorting coke off a whore’s tits before Monday,” I said, Beau frowning as we pulled up to the house. 

“Don’t do that,” he said when I was halfway out the door. I rolled my eyes, Beau’s face so pathetic looking though that I closed the door and sat back in my seat.

“Why not? I don’t want to be here and the world don’t want someone like me in it. I was someone in my universe. Here I’m a mooching scumbag apparently. So who cares if I go out the fun way?”

“I do.” Beau shook his head at me, my annoyance growing. “God, Jack, whatever…that kid put you and Dean in my world for a reason. Dean, I get. He died young and this is a chance to live a normal life. Me? Maybe I do things differently and don’t bottle up my shit and move on from my ex. And you? Maybe you need to get rid of your superiority complex and learn to just be a normal person without superpowers or torture or whatever. So don’t do something stupid cause I will find you in the afterlife and I will kick your ass if you do.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. A minute later I was in my bedroom, frowning at the space. It was pretty fucking filthy. “Why don’t we have a fucking maid again?”

“Because we’re not rich,” said Beau as he walked past my open door. I heard him go into a bedroom and exit a moment later sans his firearm and badge, his shirt untucked. “Dean’s making homemade pizza when he gets in.”

“Good. I’m starving,” I said, following Beau downstairs. “How much to get you to clean my room?”

“What did I say to you not five minutes ago?” asked Beau, spinning around on the stairs, looking up at me. “Find a closet or bathroom. I’m sure there’s cleaning supplies in there.”

“Well I’ve never cleaned shit so how was I supposed to know that?” Beau raised his eyebrows. “What? I grew up rich and then got even richer.”

“Well I seriously doubt mom and dad would let you get away with not cleaning your room. Think and you’ll remember.” I frowned. Of course I knew how to fucking clean something. It didn’t mean I wanted to.

“Still stupid,” I mumbled.

“Ben,” said Beau, raising his voice. “I know you think you’re hot shit but you are a sorry excuse for a man. Start acting like one and maybe every conversation you have won’t be a fight.”

Beau went downstairs, leaving me standing there feeling for the first time in a very long time like maybe my dad had been right.

I really was a fucking disappointment.

I cleared my throat an hour later as I went downstairs to find Beau and Dean laughing in the kitchen. They turned their heads when I walked in, a strange awkwardness settling in my gut.

“I uh, cleaned my room,” I said, glancing at the three ready pizzas. “One of those for me?”

“Come on, man. You can make up your own,” said Dean. I settled next to him, looking at the different topping options. “I heard you got a job today.”

“Yeah,” I said, sprinkling some pepperoni on top of one. 

“So what was it like growing up rich?” asked Dean. “Personally we had jack shit after I was four. Nice to know I was well off in one universe.”

“It was alright,” I said, Beau passing me a bowl of peppers and onions. “Actually it sucked. I was never good enough for my dad.”

“Been there, done that,” said Dean. “I mean, I made up with my dad eventually but it wasn’t until after he died.”

“My dad’s nice,” said Beau softly. “Our dad. You guys will like him.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Dean, nudging my ribs. “Hey. Even if he’s not perfect, beats being tortured for forty years, am I right?”

“You have a point.” I put some extra jalapeños on my pizza before I was done, Beau hopping up on the counter. Dean grabbed a few beers from the fridge, handing one to each of us and then putting the first pizza in the oven.

“So,” said Beau, taking a draw from his bottle. “I know this situation is kind of crazy but not gonna lie, I don’t mind having some company at home again. Em stays with her mom a lot lately.”

“I lived with my brother most of my life,” said Dean with a small smile. “It’s not half bad.”

They both glanced at me, waiting for me to share something personal. I resisted the voice at the back of my head screaming for me to snap an insult back at them.

“I’ve kinda always been on my own I guess,” I said, fiddling with the bottle in my hands. 

“Well not anymore,” said Beau.

“Just stop calling us pussies all the time?” asked Dean, a smirk on his face.

“No promises,” I said, Dean slapping my back.

“Told ya you’d warm up to us,” he said. I rolled my eyes, Beau chuckling into his beer. “We’ll work on it.”

Beau held up his bottle, raising his chin. “To Ben working on his potty mouth.”

“To living in a world where we can have normal lives,” said Dean, lifting his. I tilted mine up, nodding once.

“To my new, weird as fuck, brothers.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” said Dean, throwing an arm over my shoulders, a strange warmth filling me up. “Now who’s hungry?”

________

#Dean Winchester #Soldier Boy #Beau Arlen #Spn fanfic #big sky au #the boys au #crossover #fanfic

[casinoroyale]

Hi everyone!! Theseus cquackity viceduo zombur revivebur here.

This blog has seen several hiatuses (my bad seriously my bad), and bouts of irregular posting. So I'm sure people who regularly check it have noticed that we (Fiona @quackbur and I) haven't been posting daily anymore and haven't for a bit now. So below the cut I'm gonna talk more about that, and our plans for this blog going forward

For starters, I love roleplaying on this blog so much, as does my cohost Fiona @quackbur. Fiona has done so, so much writing for this and I feel kind of bad for taking her credit over the past two or so years, so props to her for being such a good sport and for everything she's done. This blog wouldn't exist without the shared passion she had for it.

To get sappy, I love the friends I've made in bedrockverse, they remain some of my best and closest companions. I would not trade the times I've spent with them for the world. Beau, Holly & co, Met & Co, and Thunderbottles are some of the loveliest, most supportive, and insanely talented people I have ever had the pleasure of writing with and meeting.

This includes people who aren't part of the bedrockverse that I've written with!! Shoutout to Javi anonymous-jey casino-duckling, TGM the-g-m duckofthelaw, and AD anonymous-dentist therealnoodleman. It was so much fun bringing all the quackverses together, and I respect all of you so much as writers.

AND that also includes EVERYONE who has interacted with her!!!!!!!!!! Everyone who has sent asks (thank you so much, sorry we're terrible at replying), reblogged threads, commented, posted/liveblogged, DREW FAN ART (BLOWS OUR MINDS. THERE'S BEEN SO MUCH INCREDIBLE ART CREATED, WE CANNOT THANK ALL OF YOU ENOUGH), even just liked a thread, thank you. Seriously, it has meant a lot to us to be part of this community, and have so many people enjoy this blog. Insert Pitbull image happy you enjoyed.

So, going forward it would make us really happy if you all pictured casinoroyale as happy. He has songbird-sunrise, goofygoop, and a nation full of citizens that she loves. She babysits for tubbolul and latenightmining, and terrorizes rp!emduo not infrequently. All we really wanted was to bring c!quackity to a happy place and I feel we've done that. Of course he still has shit days, as a ptsd baddie, but the good days are more common. And if we never get to it (though I hope someday we do, maybe in the form of a collaborative one-shot or fic) know that casinoroyale and songbird-sunrise DO eventually get [REDACTED]. And one of them DOES get [REDACTED]. That was always the plan! Yay! [REDACTED]!

Not to say that we don't have more arcs planned for this blog, because we do! I just don't know when/if/how they'll ever get written, especially because a lot of my friends have moved on from their rp blogs as well. But I really do still feel happy with where he's at and happy with everything I've done. This is a project I'm really, really proud of and I will always look back on fondly.

None of this means that I'm not interested in c!Quackity or DSMP as a whole anymore, either. Actually that couldn't be further from the truth. But now I'd like to be able to focus on fics, and other forms of writing, which I've been doing more recently :D actually, you can read a short one shot I posted for exile's anniversary HERE

If you've made it this far into this long, sappy post, THANKS!!!!!! The TLDR; this blog is on an indefinite hiatus, and won't be returning to its formal glory, and that's okay. We had a really good run. Now, off we go to other things

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Can you do one with a autistic male reader who is the son of Aaron Hotchner and has a boyfriend he wants to introduce his dad to and the reader’s boyfriend is so nice and understanding of the readers needs and will do anything for him. And as a plus Jack absolutely loves the reader’s boyfriend and asks if he’s his new big brother like the reader.

Aaron Hotchner X Autistic Son Reader

Another request!

Request: Can you do one with a autistic male reader who is the son of Aaron Hotchner and has a boyfriend he wants to introduce his dad to and the reader’s boyfriend is so nice and understanding of the readers needs and will do anything for him. And as a plus Jack absolutely loves the reader’s boyfriend and asks if he’s his new big brother like the reader.

Third person pov...

16 year old Y/N Hotchner was Gay, he had known for years he was Gay and has had a boyfriend for the last two of them.

Currently the two where walking back to Y/Ns, Bf/N laughing at the story he was telling his boyfriend, he then noticed the H/C boy wasn't listening.

Bf/N squeezes his boyfriends hand, the slight pressure brings Y/N back to the present. He looks to his partner, he has a worried look.

He knew Y/N looses himself in his brain sometimes. "You doing okay Love?" He askes, Y/N sighs he couldn't hide anything from him. "Nothing much, I was jsut thinking if we could tell my Dad about us?" He asks, the H/C boy smiles and hugs his partner tightly.

Y/N doesn't do physical contact, he us autistic but like pressure, especially tight hugs which is why he love his boyfriend, they had been friends for years before they stared dating.

When they did Y/N explained to hid boyfriend he was autistic, it didn't bother his boyfriend, instead Bf/N helped him deal with everything.

Every meltdown, shutdown, sensory overload, everything that happened was made better by his boyfriend, Bf/N understands Y/N and will always love him for who he is.

Grinning ear from ear Y/Ns boyfriend let's him go. "Such a wonderful idea love, I would love to meet your Dad as your boyfriend" he exclaims, Y/N grins and kisses him.

Once they arrive at the house, Y/N could feel the nervousness of his Dad reaction to him having a boyfriend, before he could spiral the boy holds the H/C teens hand.

"It'll be okay" he whispers and Y/N finds himself agreeing with him. "Yes it will, come on" he says dragging his boyfriend up to the front door, Y/N then opens the door and is greeted by his Dad and Brother from the living room.

This surprised the teen. "Dad your home early!" He asks the man, Hotch laughs. "Surprise the case ended quickly than usual" he explains.

Bf/N gulps. 'He's an agent' he thinks, just about seeing the man badge in his pocket. The man then notices the new face in his home. "And who is this Y/N?" He asks his son.

Y/N then hods his boyfriends hand and gestures to his Dad. "Can we talk in the kitchen?" He asks nervously, Hotch is confused but gets up anyway.

Once they were sat at the kitchen table. At first Aaron was surprised to find his son standing next to a young man with a warm smile and a genuine twinkle in his eye.

In the kichen his son made the introduction. " dad this is my boyfriend, Bf/N" Says Y/N, Knowing Aaron's son, he felt sure that this young man was special.

Bf/N nervously prepared himself for the parent-boyfriend meeting, he hoped he wouldn't get to interrogated by the agent.

Aaron extended his hand in greeting, expecting to be met with the same tentative courtesy from his son's new beau. But instead he found himself surprised by the young man's confident handshake and steady gaze. As the three of them conversed, Aaron found himself genuinely liking the man.

The two young men grew increasingly comfortable around Aaron, and he found himself slowly relaxing and getting to know more about his son's relationship. As he looked around the gathering, he noticed something else that warmed his heart.

His younger son, Jack, seemed to adore the boyfriend too, and the two were getting along like old friends, while Y/N sat with his dad.

Aaron couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Jack so content and happy. It suddenly became quite clear that the young man sitting in their house was indeed very special.

"Dad" Hotch looks to his eldest son, Y/N had a genuine smile on his young face. "Yes son?" He asks, the boy only smiles and holds his hand out to his dad.

Hotch takes it ams holds it. "Thanks for being so cool about all this" he mutters loud enough for the man to hear, the dad smiles at his son.

"Of course honey, you know I will always support you no matter what" he says, tears gather in the teens eyes at the words. "Do you think mum would be proud?" He askes.

Hotch takes a minute, he looks around the room, Jack and Bf/N playing some kind of pretend game together in the living room, both laughing and smiling like crazy.

He then looks to his son, the boys question was genuine, he wanted to know it Haley would've excepted him. "If course she would son, she loves you nothing would change that"

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks dad" For the rest of the afternoon the Hotchners got to know more about Y/N and his boyfriend.

Jack then runs upto his big brother smiling happily. "Y/N/N, is Bf/N going to be my new big brother!" He asks innocently making the boy blush a bright red his Dad shocked at what his youngest said.

"You little!" Exclaimed Bf/N, grabbing the little boy tightly and tickling him, making the kid squeal with laugher, the whole house end up in laughter.

When the night ended and Bf/N had to go home, Hotch watched from thr door as his son hugged the boy tightly, they kissed Y/N before walked back inside.

As the boy leaves Hotch calls out. "You hurt him, you'll pay" he says gesturing silently to his badge, the teen flinches.

"Y-yes sir!" He yells before almost running hone, Hotch let's out a laugh before closing the door.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for thr wait, I've been busy with class, got two weeks until my current project is finished.

As usual sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count : 1080

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x son reader #aaron hotchner #x male reader #x autistic teen reader #x autistic son reader #jack hotchner #boyfriend #gay couple #coming out #aaron hotchner x child! reader

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 14

"What happened son?" "I met a girl."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @siriuslymooned @cc-luvr @crypticsewerslut @icarus-star @desert-springtime @shady-the-simp @izuoyarmin

SUNDAY, 9:00PM

Clyde stood at the laundromat for two hours doing his dirty laundry. He tried to keep his mind focused on anything but Y/N but he just couldn't stop looking at his phone. He realized he never got her phone number which made him feel like an idiot. Snow had texted him throughout the day asking if he had heard from her yet and by the afternoon time, he finally asked her to stop asking because it was bumming him out.

He kicked around the apartment for awhile, cleaning random things. His apartment had never looked so put together, even when he moved in. Johnny had stopped in to see if he wanted to go to a show tonight but when he saw the state of the apartment, he was worried.

"Dude...are you moving out or something?" Johnny ran his hand on the kitchenette counter and it wasn't sticky for a change.

"No I just...I can't stop thinking about Y/N and the possibility that I may have fucked up. I've been trying to stay busy all day but she hasn't called or texted...nothing." Johnny knew that Clyde wasn't someone who put himself out there romantically. He knew he was really into Y/N when he finally stepped up and asked her out because usually he would provide safe haven for people and let them drift off into the night whenever they wanted to. She was different. He could tell his best friend really cared about this girl.

"Did you ask Snow if maybe she's called her? I mean I know she's got her number because she sent pictures to her from the other night." Johnny tried and Clyde's eyes went wide.

"Snow has her number?! She didn't say that!" Clyde snatched his phone up and started texting Snow immediately. She apologized and sent him her number and the photos she had.

"Look, I don't want to leave you here like this man. Why not just come out for a little bit to take your mind off of things. She'll call. She was definitely into you. Beau was actually butthurt she turned him down for you." Clyde looked at Johnny.

"She did?" He asked almost desperately.

"Yeah man! You've gotta stop shitting on yourself. That's my job!" Johnny put him in a headlock and Clyde pinched his nipple.

"I'm good here man. I might take a drive later just to grab groceries but I'll hit you up. Thanks for having my back." Clyde held his hand out and Johnny dapped him up, pulling their hands to his chest in a side hug.

Clyde considered actually going to the grocery store just to restock in case Y/N just randomly showed up but first he tried to text, just to check in.

"Hey, it's Clyde. I was thinking about you and wanted to check in." Clyde sent the text, thumb shaking over the SEND button for a few moments before he let it fly. He sat on the couch, bouncing his knee up and down for about 10 minutes before pacing back and forth, biting his thumbnail.

"Jesus I'm fucking losing it." Clyde raked his hands through his hair and pocketed his phone. He walked out of the apartment, jumping in the van and batting the idea of doing a drive by around in his head. He had no idea what she drove so checking the lot for a car was pointless. He kept checking his phone but the message still went unanswered. He cruised past her apartment complex but there weren't any lights on.

"Okay if she's not home, why isn't she answering her phone?" Clyde said outloud to himself.

"Fuck it." He dialed the number and waited.

"The number you are trying to reach is currently not available."

Clyde felt like he had been punched in the gut. He tossed his phone on the seat and shook his head. This wasn't like him. He wasn't this guy and he hated that he was acting this crazy. He pulled away from her apartment and just started driving. He didn't want to go back to his apartment and he didn't want to be around anyone so he went to the last place anyone would look for him.

He knew it was late but he didn't see a car in the driveway which meant either no one was home or he was about to walk in and create chaos. He used the key and made sure to enter the code in the keypad before the alarm sounded but he jumped when his dad popped around the corner.

"Jesus Clyde! You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?" His dad was holding a carton of milk in one hand and his cellphone in the other.

"I...um...I don't know if Shelly is home or not but I was wondering if I could stay here tonight." Clyde tucked his hair behind his ear and his Dad knew something was wrong. Clyde never asked to do many things. He usually would just do things and try to charm people into not being pissed about it. Despite being kicked out of the home, Clyde had a decent relationship with his dad. He was always kind of a little shit to his step mom and shooting the dog didn't help but his dad was actually grateful. They both couldn't handle watching the dog suffer any longer.

"She's out of town so you can stand down." Clyde relaxed and followed his dad into the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? I was about to make some cereal." He grabbed Clyde a bowl knowing the boy stayed hungry but Clyde shook his head.

"Is everything okay? You never turn down food." His dad sat down at the table and Clyde stayed in the corner, arms crossed bouncing on his feet.

"Yeah I'm...I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind." Clyde didn't meet his dad's gaze until the screech of the chair legs across the floor sounded, his dad extending his arm inviting him to sit. Clyde did and started biting his thumb again.

"What happened son?" His dad was beginning to really worry.

"I met a girl." Clyde breathed.

"Oh God! Is she pregnant? Is she okay? How long-"

"No God no! Nothing like that. I just...I've never felt like this before and I keep thinking I already fucked it up or if I hadn't then I absolutely will." Clyde rambled.

"Oh...well that's good. Not that you think you'll fuck it up but that, you know...no babies...not yet anyway. You know I wouldn't mind being a grandpa just not...you know, right now." Clyde shook his head. It was times like this where he knew what traits he got from him and what he got from his mom, which wasn't much.

"You think you love her?" Clyde looked at him pained.

"Yeah...I'm pretty sure I do which is crazy. I mean we spent two days together and I can't stop thinking about her but I don't know! How do you know? I've never been in love before." Clyde racked his hands through his hair and his dad reached out to him.

"Son, you've got to take a breath. Love isn't something that should make you carry dread. You have a big heart so the idea of falling in love with someone can be scary but if the person truly has the same feelings, they'll never make you feel that dread." Clyde nodded at his dad.

"What if she doesn't realize I'm like this? What if she finds out I've been freaking out about her all day and she's too overwhelmed by it...by me?" His dad laughed.

"Clyde, if she spent even two hours with you, I'm sure she knows that you are a hurricane of chaos but in the best way. You've just got to let her meet you halfway." Clyde felt like that would be impossible. He was so anxious about the whole situation that he didn't know if he liked feeling like this if it was what love was.

His phone beeped in his pocket and his heart jumped. He pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned.

"Is it her?" His dad inquired.

"No just Snow." Clyde opened the message and saw it was a picture of him and Y/n from last night. She was sitting on his lap, arm around his neck and they were both laughing. She had her eyes on him and looked comfortable being so connected to him. He looked truly happy just being able to be in her presence.

"This is Y/N. Snow must have taken it the other night." Clyde didn't usually show his dad photos of his friends because he knew how all of them looked out on the town.

"She's very pretty. She seems to be pretty infatuated with you..unless she just likes to sit on everyone's lap and wrap her arms around them." Clyde chuckled.

"No actually. She's pretty good about her personal space." Clyde said making his dad laugh.

"Just not when it comes to you...I wonder why that might be? I think she might like you a little bit." Clyde rolled his eyes.

"You look like you need sleep kid. Go upstairs, get comfortable and if you head out early, please let your old man know. Things will work themselves out. You just have to let it fall into place." His dad gripped his shoulder and Clyde nodded. He didn't come to his dad too often for these sorts of talks but he could tell it meant a lot to him. Clyde climbed the stairs and flopped down on his bed unsure of how he was just supposed to sleep.

#Electrick Children #Clyde #Clyde x YN #YN/Reader fic #One Shot Series #One Long Weekend #One Long Weekend Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #I promise these sad ones have a good build up for happy good shit #14/18

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 6)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Beau is working restlessly to get you back and it’s killing him that it’s already been several hours with no sign of you. Agent Sampson is doing his best to remind Beau to keep a level head so Beau could get you back sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, you are doing everything you can to persevere and think of a way put of your situation with the limited recourses you have- which is next to none.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: kidnapping, TW: implications of non-con (no graphic detail), mild violence, i think that’s it?

You knew that several hours had gone by since you were taken from your home. That meant today was the anniversary of your husband’s death. What a hell of a day to spend it, being kidnapped and potentially taken out of the country within a couple of days. You still had yet to formulate any plans of escape.

The worst part is that you knew if you didn’t get out of this mess, you’d likely never see Beau again. That and you had plans for a movie night with him that weekend. Plans that were gone with the wind by now if you weren’t able to escape.

You wondered if Beau had told Cadence yet. You wondered what exactly he told her. You wondered if she’d be able to handle the news, if she would be okay. You hoped that she wouldn’t worry too much or she would find some way to distract herself from what was going on. She was your little sister and you hated when she worried about you. To be frank, you hated when anyone worried about you. Obviously you couldn’t exactly blame anyone for worrying about you with the situation you’re in now.

You were leaned back against the wall of the basement and you looked down at your wrists. These handcuffs weren’t your biggest concern. If you were lucky you could wiggle your wrists out of them. Then again you’ve tried that for the first couple of hours and the skin on your wrists was already cut and scabbed. You’d handle your wrists again soon but for now you were trying to think of how to get the chain off your ankle.

A part of you was glad you were barefooted when they took you. You thought that pulling your foot out would be difficult with shoes and socks on. The other part of you wished you had some shoes though because you felt like your toes were freezing. It’s not like they had a heater in this particular basement.

“Come on, think. You’ve watched cop shows once in a while, and Beau’s talked about cases where captives have escaped before. You can do this.” You spoke to yourself. However, you didn’t exactly have bobby pins in your hair or paper clips so you could pull one of those moves like you’ve seen in the movies where people pick their way out of their shackles.

All you could really do at the moment was wait. Be patient, continue to wiggle your limbs until you were free but who knew how long that would take. And unfortunately, patience was not exactly your strong suit.

Suddenly you heard the door open and when you glanced up, you saw the King. Andre was there without his mask and he had a crown pin on the top left corner of his blazer jacket. He looked so different compared to the first day that the two of you met.

“What do you want.” You glared and Andre hummed a little.

“I just wanted to talk, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Andre sighed a little before he walked towards you. You wished you had some kind of superpower to just teleport out of here, or maybe even make yourself invisible. If you could shrink and disappear into the wall, you would. Anything to just avoid the man in front of you. Obviously you couldn’t do that though.

“Aren’t you in the wrong position to be giving demand’s like that?” He asked but then Andre looked down and saw how your wrists were starting to scab over and he tilted his head a little.

“I suppose its a good thing those cuffs aren’t any bigger.” The chuckle he let out made you feel sick to your stomach.

“What did you want to talk about so we can just get this bit over with.”

“Touchy touchy. I was just going to suggest that… maybe you can work for me personally. That way you don’t have to go out of the country soon and be sold off as a slave. You could be here although… you would have to give your business to me, and not have any contact with your little sheriff friend.” He said.

“There’s no way I’d give in to something like that. That business would go to Cadence before it could ever go to someone like you.”

“Cadence… you know, she would have made a good candidate too for this little operation. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Shut up.” You seethed and he squatted down in front of you before he reached out, the next thing you knew he had your jaw in his hands and you could feel his fingertips keeping a firm hold of your face.

“If you were smart, you’d watch your tone with me.” He said and you spat in his face.

His eyes darkened as he let out low growl of disapproval, “You’ll pay for that. And you’ll pay dearly. So be a dear and keep quiet.”

Your eyes widened when he gripped at your shirt and tore the material….

Cadence took the news pretty hard, just like Beau knew that she would. It killed him to see the way her face fell when she found out her sister was taken. All he could really advise her to do was close up the cafe if she didn’t have anyone to keep it open for her if she needed time away.

Much to Beau’s surprise though, Cadence agreed to keep the cafe open and just keep working. Cadence said you would have wanted her to be strong for your sake. Although she did agree to take the first couple of days off just to see if you would come home and you would have someone to go home to.

After he met up with Cadence and took her home, Beau went right back to the office to find out if Hoyt or Poppernack have found anything, or even if Agent Sampson was making himself useful. He swore that if the FBI were going to drag their feet on this he may end up having to take care of everything himself, or get Cassie to help him out since she didn’t have the same rules as the FBI.

Once he pushed the doors open he saw that some other agents were there, no doubt a part of Harlen Sampson’s team.

“Pompernickle!” Beau called and looked around only to see a hand raised up.

“Right here, Boss!”

Beau walked over and stood behind the deputy at his desk, “Please tell me you’ve found something to get to Sampson.”

“Actually, the fingerprints we found over at Irene’s place did in fact match the ones that were at Y/N’s house. We just got the results from the database. Somebody was slacking here in Montana.” He said.

“And who’s that supposed to be?”

“Our guy Ace? He wasn’t the only one at you houses. There were two sets of prints. We found out that this Ace guy is related to your Andre fella. A cousin, actually. His name is Matvey, or simply Mat, Bolkonsky. Related on the paternal side.” Poppernack said just as Agent Sampson walked up.

“Another Bolkonsky, huh? He was born and raised Russian and he tried to move down here when Andre’s father started their so called jewelry company. Turns out he wasn’t really the best of the bunch and he was charged with drug dealing. He ended up getting a kid killed with those drugs about seven years ago. Naturally he was charged with second degree murder, unfortunately he got out for good behavior with parole. And we haven’t heard anything on him since, although he has been a suspect for other gang related activities and I don’t think murder and kidnapping is out of his range.” The agent said.

“So what does that mean? If he’s here and he’s with Andre, we can go over to Andre’s place and ask about aiding a suspect if he was the one that did kidnap Y/N right? Well what are we waiting for?” Beau said.

“Legitimate proof that Andre was there too. We’re waiting on the results for the second set of fingerprints. We also need to consider the idea that Andre may not have known about this.” Agent Sampson replied and Beau’s hands turned into fists.

“You’re kidding me, right? To me this sounds like enough to at least have an interview with the guy since you’re so intent on doing this by the book. We’ve gone on less even if this is circumstantial.” The sheriff reminded.

“If I may say something,” Poppernack chimed in, “If you do have that interview with him, there is a reason. He was the last known person to have seen Y/N after all so if we propose it as simply routine questions to cross him off the list as a suspect, he may be cooperative.”

“I’m on it.” Beau said and was about to walk past the desk.

“You aren’t going by yourself. Someone like you is going to go there and bite his head off and ruin everything. I’ll be going with you.” Agent Sampson said.

“No offense, Agent, but I’m pretty damn good at my job and I know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve been in this job long enough to know how to handle a situation like this. I’m not some damn rookie.”

“Fine, but I’m still going with you so it at least looks good on the papers. It is technically the FBI’s case still and we want these guys to go away for good. So try to keep that in mind while you’re trying to keep your cool.” He reminded as he walked out of the door.

Beau just glared at the agent. He knew Sampson was right about doing this by the book, but it still ticked him off. He wasn’t about to waste time on this. Sure he’ll do this by-the-book interview. But the moment things go south, Beau may need to make some plans to conduct an interview all on his own.

The sheriff went to his car and the agent ended up following him to the vehicle and they got in.

“Listen, I know you’re angry and I don’t know what kind of connection you have to the… captive.” Beau could hear the agent begin to speak, “I’ve been where you are with my wife before. It’s vital to keep your head on straight.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom.” Beau rolled his eyes and started his car.

“I’m serious, Arlen. I lost control and nearly lost my wife for good because the perps almost got away with nothing but a slap on the wrist. That’s why we need to get this done right.”

The sheriff looked down at his steering wheel for a moment. Of course he could at least take the words into consideration, but he knew that you were too important to lose. And if this Bolkonsky business were to go south, being too slow with the law may get you lost just as fast as recklessness.

“Let’s just focus on getting Y/N back to her sister. Andre’s our first stop and hopefully we’ll come across another lead like surveillance of Mat participating in suspicious activity.”

Forty-six minutes…

That worst forty-six minutes of your life and you had counted every second if it just to keep from screaming. You didn’t know what Andre was capable of if you ignored his warning and tried to scream or make any sounds.

“Well… I don’t think the clients will mind slightly used goods. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” Andre said as he pulled up his pants.

You couldn’t make direct eye contact with this man after what he had done. Your everything ached but you were glad it was finally over.

Andre was nothing but scum of the earth, and even after what happened… you were trying so hard to be strong. But after those forty-six minutes, you were beginning to wonder what the point of strength was if something like this could happen no matter how patient or optimistic a person tried to be.

Then you heard a phone ringing, of course it was Andre’s. When he answered you could see the slightly annoyed features on his face.

“Hello, Sheriff. How can I be of assistance?” He asked.

Your eyes widened.

Beau was on the phone. He was really looking for you! He was looking for you right? You weren’t imagining all of this?

You had to do something, now was your chance! Andre didn’t take your mouth up or anything so you had to do something. This could be your only shot!

“Beau! He has me in some basement! He could go after Cade-“ a harsh stinging erupted on your face from where Andre smacked you.

“Oh no, Sheriff. That’s just some movie I’m watching at a friends house. He has a weird and nearly concerning taste in film. I can come and meet you to talk about the date in just a few moments. Let’s say… Tonya and Donno’s place? I’ve heard they have some great sandwiches. My treat.” Andre said.

The charm that Andre tried to have made you cringe. How disgusting did this man have to be to think he could use charisma like that after what he just did. And how stupid did he think that Beau was?

“Uh huh… I see. My cousin? Oh I didn’t even know he was in town. I suppose great minds of the family think alike. We’ll discuss this more when we aren’t on the phone. If we talked about everything now we’d just be limited to small talk and that’s always awkward.” He laughed.

When the phone call was done, Andre turned and glared at you.

“You’re worried about your sister that much, huh? Well maybe we ought to give you something to worry about now that you may have ruined everything by screaming.” He promised.

Then he walked out of the basement door, locking you up once again.

Your mind started racing. You hoped to what’s god was out there that Beau really did hear you. But on the other hand, you were terrified for your sister’s safety. What if Andre really would send his crew to go after Cadence like they did to you?

You couldn’t have your baby sister go through the same thing you’ve endured. You refused to let that happen.

“Please, Beau… if you heard me at all, send someone to the house to keep Cadence safe.” You pleaded, even though you knew there was no one listening.

You felt something roll down your cheek and when you lifted your cuffed hands to your face, you felt tears. You didn’t realize you were crying and honestly you thought you were a little dehydrated to do that. You supposed you were wrong but maybe the moment Andre mentioned your sister put things a little more into perspective.

“I have to get out of here.” You vowed and looked at your scabbed wrists and started to try and wiggle out of them yet again but you had even more of a reason to escape, more of a reason to try.

Hey guys, I know this chapter was a bit more intense than the previous. But I hope you enjoyed so far. Thank you to those of you who have been commenting, reblogging and liking these chapters. I really appreciate it! Love you all!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

#jensen ackles #beau arlen ff #beau arlen x yn #big sky beau arlen #jensen ackles beau arlen #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen #jensen big sky #jensen ackles big sky #big sky fanfiction #big sky fanfic #big sky

[areyougonnabe]

Explain the Scott/Shackleton/Wilson drama. Be as detailed as you’d like.

omfg. okay. well. here we go, it will be very long, but if you want even more detail, please check out the book i sourced most of this from, shackleton's forgotten expedition by beau riffenburgh!

EPISODE 1: THE DISCOVERY EXPEDITION

in 1901, ROBERT FALCON SCOTT leads the first major british expedition to the antarctic since 1839

hired onto this expedition: doctor and naturalist EDWARD "BILL" WILSON and merchant navy lieutenant ERNEST SHACKLETON

what you must know about bill wilson is that he was an absolute dreamboat and paragon who emitted some kind of insane pheromone which made every man he met debilitatingly obsessed with him. i'm not kidding

anyway shackleton and bill immediately hit it off. shackles would wake bill up when there was an especially beautiful sunrise that he could paint, they would read poetry together, and when the ship wintered over, they would spent hours every day together working on the expedition newspaper, the South Polar Times - shackleton as editor/writer and wilson as artist. 

less immediately than shackles and wilson's bond, scott and wilson were also growing closer. in the middle of winter, wilson wrote to his wife that "although Shackleton is still my best friend, the Captain and I understand one another better than anyone else on the ship, I think."

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

EPISODE 2: THE SOUTHERN JOURNEY

scott asked wilson if he would go with him on the planned sledge journey to reach the south pole. wilson is like omg :3333 yeah sure but we probably need three people. scott chose shackleton as their third, knowing that's who wilson also would have picked—because of wilson's friendship with him, but also because shackleton Really Really wanted to go. 

so! off they go!!!!!! they have dogs who they don't know how to drive and skis that they don't know how to use and not nearly enough rations which aren't nearly nutritious enough. lmao. this is gonna go great 

besties it does not go great. 

by the time the support party turned back and the trio continued on, they had become exhausted, impatient, and hungry. 

scott and shackleton began to grate against each other, the differences in their personalities coming to the fore: shackleton romantic and improvisatory, scott practical and deliberate. they came from vastly different worlds: shackleton from the merchant navy and scott from the royal navy, and had very different approaches to discipline and leadership.

at some point around then, an Incident occurred. what that Incident was is not clear: reports differ, but it's likely that a verbal argument was had, insults were thrown, and honor was wounded. 

despite that, the march had to continue. but things became even more difficult as the men began to show signs of physical deterioration. most importantly, shackleton was beginning to be undoubtedly affected by scurvy. 

they turned for home at 82º17'S, which was a furthest south record but still a disappointment to the men. 

trying to get back home before the winter weather arrived was A Bad Time. shackleton was getting worse, both scott and wilson were affected too, but shackleton was by far the weakest of the three, possibly not just due to scurvy but also pain and shortness of breath from the heart condition that would eventually kill him 20 years later. 

contrary to popular opinion he was not "pulled on the sledge all the way home" - he usually staggered along beside it, behind it, or pathfinding out in front of it while the other two men hauled. 

but, while shackleton was out of hearing, wilson and scott were able to talk between themselves. according to some interpretations, this is when they formed the bond of friendship that would last until their deaths. 

by the time they reached the final depot, shackleton seemed to have improved, but a blizzard hit and he worsened again. at one point wilson didn't think he would last the night: but he pulled through, recovering to the point that he could lead the way again as they made the final dash for the ship. 

anyway. after they get back. despite the fact that [lpoe shackles voice] THEY ALL HAD SCURVY, scott pulls an utter asshole power move and forcibly invalids shackleton home on the relief ship. he basically is like you can't sit with us. 

shackleton was nearly recovered! scott was doing worse than him at this point (1month after they got back) AND YET. reportedly scott said that "if he does not go back sick he will go back in disgrace." YIKES

and it's even worse if you know that scott pulled strings to get bill's poor medical record disregarded in order to get him approved for the expedition!!!!!!!!!

EPISODE 3: THE BREAKUP

ok this is probably the most complicated part so i will have to simplify it a bit. 

but basically after the indignity of getting yeeted from the discovery expedition, shackles made it his goal to lead his own expedition and get to the south pole without scott. 

as he began planning the expedition, it became clear that scott was ALSO planning another expedition south, to finish what he'd started.

the clash was immediate and also incredibly stupid. essentially, scott wanted shackleton to pinky promise that under no circumstances would his independent expedition make any use of McMurdo Sound, the Great Barrier, or any of the land previously explored and charted during the Discovery expedition, because scott perceived it as "his domain." 

and shackleton knew this was stupid so he was like "i mean lol maybe w/e" but scott could not abide by the idea that shackleton was trying to scoop him out of his rightful claim to the pole as some sort of revenge for invaliding him home. 

in order to make scott see sense, shackles passed along his response first to bill wilson. but this was a mistake, because bill was firmly on scott's side. he told shackleton that he'd better do as scott says and stay out of mcmurdo sound. and shackleton was like............ ok i'll just go a little bit to the east then. 

and bill was like THATS NOT GOOD ENOUGH :))) and he and scott together were pushing for shackleton to give up rights to the entire "Ross Quarter" of antarctica. by this point bill had agreed to go south with scott on his planned expedition, but was still playing the mediator between him and shackles. 

anyway, together scott and wilson basically bullied shackleton into signing an agreement saying he would not go to the places that scott did not want him to go Unless He Absolutely Had To.

but guess what lol

he absolutely had to :))))

due to ice conditions, the Nimrod Expedition was forced to set up shop on Cape Evans, on Ross Island just a few miles north of where Discovery had wintered. 

and it's not that shackles was happy about this: he felt he was going back on his word. he wrote that "I felt each mile that I went to the west was a horror to me." 

EPISODE 4: AFTERMATH

despite shackleton having truly done his best to abide by his agreement with scott and wilson, the fact that he did end up reaching a new Furthest South—a mere 97 miles from the pole—from the region in which scott considered "his" was the final straw.

wilson and shackleton met when he returned and it seemed that their bond, so strong and close in the early days of the discovery expedition, had been sundered forever.

ok i have to post this whole quote bc its insane

"I wish to God you had done any mortal thing in the whole world rather than break the promise you had made... My opinion as you know was that you ought to have thrown up the whole show, that, you said was out of the question. But why in the name of fortune did you promise to do the second best thing, & then do the very worst!"

DUDE WTF??????

and then wilson goes on to write that he has "broken with [Shackleton] completely" and that he considers shackleton a "regular wrong'un" with "limited and rather low down ambitions" :///

meanwhile shackleton and scott had to go on being cordial to each other in public but definitely were known to dislike each other, coming to further minor blows about another planned shackleton expedition (which ended up being the Mawson expedition) 

and during the terra nova expedition scott, wilson, and the rest of the polar party followed shackleton's precise route across the barrier, up the beardmore glacier and the polar plateau towards the pole. scott obsessively compared shackleton's dates and distances to his own on the way south, determined to beat him and achieve those final 97 miles. 

which he did.

and then in March 1912 scott and wilson literally Die In Each Other's Arms. 

and shackleton was like . well what WAS shackleton like. GREAT QUESTION. WE DON'T KNOW :) bc he didn't talk about it. literally not a word!!!

IN CONCLUSION

scott and shackleton are sometimes depicted as straightforwardly rivals, which is sort of true, but the truth of the trio situation with bill at the heart of it all makes it so much more complicated and fascinating!!!!!! LONG LIVE THE TOXIC POLYCULE

#polar exploration #ernest shackleton #robert falcon scott

[zepskies]

This is very very niche one, but how would Beau, Dean and Ben react to seeing reader has breast reduction scars, and that’s how they find out about it since she never mentioned having one? I won’t be offended if you ignore because again, it’s very specific 🤣🫶

Hello my lovely friend! @chernayawidow

Ooh this is very niche, but I'm okay with that! I love a narrower prompt. It makes it easier to imagine, to be honest. And I can safely say this is the first time I've gotten a request like this. 😘

*cracks knuckles* Here we go!

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

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only on this one for some smuttish behavior. Description of surgical scars, body insecurity and body appreciation.

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars.

Dean Winchester

Let's start with Dean...

The first time he spots it is after a hunt, in the room of this week's grungy "motel crap."

He notices the edge of some kind of scar under your breast when he accidentally walks in on you changing.

He only sees it peeking out from the edge of the bra you're trying to hook on. It's black and lacey, and it immediately attracts his attention (in more ways than one).

"Dean!" you gasp. Your face sports a wild blush. "Learn how to knock, damn it!"

Shit! He remembers himself with a shake of his head and a placating hand in the air as he spins away. "Sorry!"

Of course, he's not going to say anything then. He wonders if it was a hunting injury, from before he met you.

He buries that curiosity...until you two finally start dating.

The subject doesn't come up, however, until you have sex for the first time. Dean has you underneath him in his bed. Kisses are feverish, hands exploring each other's bodies like a pair of teenagers making out. He can't lie to himself, he kind of feels giddy like a teenager.

But he notices that you're self-conscious about him getting your shirt off. You almost stop him with your hands on his wrists.

Dean hesitates. His hand are already under the hem of your shirt, but they become more soothing along the curve of your waist.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

Biting your lip, you nod and encourage him to continue. He goes slow, but he eventually takes your bra off, and he sees them.

Faded, pink scars (small circles around the nipple, with an anchor line stemming down the middle of the breast, and a small curve line underneath).

A younger, less mature Dean might not know what to say at first.

He might ask, with a note of caring, "What're these?"

He also might feel the need to lighten the question with a joke (not at your expense), of which you might not appreciate in the moment. And he'd very earnestly apologize.

And he might ask if he can touch the scars, softly tracing the outlines.

You would explain to him that it wasn't a hunting injury, or anything like that.

The answer is simple: You had breast reduction surgery. If you feel comfortable enough with him, you'll share the reasons why. (To reduce your lower back pain, and make it easier on your body to live your life and do your job. And the truth is, you feel better.)

A Dean in his 40s would probably have seen this before, and know what they are. But he'll still be curious on why you did it, because he's curious by nature.

He'll want to make sure you feel comfortable with him, asking you if the scars are still tender, and where you'd prefer to be touched.

But the scars don't faze him.

"I like 'em," he later says, with cheeky green eyes, and his tongue moving lazily between your breasts.

You giggle at that, carding your fingers through his hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks. "I got me a little tiger. She's got some pretty stripes."

You laugh fully at that, and your body trembles with it underneath him. It makes him smile against your skin.

You're a beautiful woman, and he feels lucky to have this chance to be with you. Not just in your bed, but trying to be together.

Because it's a chance he didn't think he'd ever get to have again.

Beau Arlen

Ah, my Cowboy Sheriff...

He first notices it on the summer you two start dating, when you two go swimming at the lake. It's Montana, so the water is still pretty cold, but you both are too high on the giddy feeling of a budding romance to care.

He sees the edge of a crescent shaped scar under your breast, under the sexy bikini you're rocking. It piques his curiosity, which is already near insatiable at the best of times.

So much so that when he next has you in his arms in the water, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, with your arms wrapped around his neck, he gains enough courage to ask you, thumbing gently at the edge of raised flesh on your skin.

"What's this, darlin'?"

You're matter-of-fact about your answer, telling him it's your breast reduction scar. It's also a subtle way you test men.

You can tell a lot about someone's character by the way they react to things like this. Especially when it's something you might've been insecure about at first. But these scars are just a part of your body now. Though they'll fade even more in time, there's a chance they might always be there. So you've accepted this, and don't find cause to hide.

Beau takes your response in with a nod.

"You're...okay with it?" you ask.

Beau smiles and presses a tender kiss to your cheek. "What's to be okay with?"

"Yeah?" you lightly press. You smile at his beard scratching your cheek. You turn your head, and he gives you a proper kiss.

"Of course, sweetheart," Beau says. And he means it.

He's a father. He watched many a change happen to his ex-wife's body over the course of pregnancy, birth, and over a decade later of natural developments with age. He's aged and changed too.

So superficial things like stretch marks and fading scars aren't going to deter him in the slightest from being with you.

His thumb edges around the hem of your bikini, sliding under the tie in the back. His smile grows a bit cheeky, while yours becomes knowingly suspicious.

"Maybe you'll let me get acquainted," he hedges. His voice deepens with southern drawl and flirtation.

Your heart beats faster, and your smile deepens.

"Okay, Sheriff...but only if I get the same privilege." And your knees begin to slide his swim trunks down his hips under the water, at the same time he unties your bikini.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Aw geez, this cheeky motherfucker...

Ben would easily be the most unfazed.

This man's gotten "around," so to speak. He's pretty much seen it all in his 102 years of pussy plowing. (Minus 40.)

You're different, however. You're more than that.

You were the first one to treat him like an actual person when he made it out of Russia, back to the States, back to New York, after dealing with Homelander and ending that piece of shit at Vought Tower.

While the whole world either looked at him like an oddity or a terrorist, you saw a man, displaced from everything he had known.

A man entirely alone.

Until you.

Still, it took all the patience he had within him to even get you to agree to date him. And you were cautious about physical intimacy. At first he thought you were shy (or worse, a fucking tease).

Or maybe...maybe you were afraid of him.

"It's not that," you tell him firmly. You feel comfortable and safe in his arms. You look up into his eyes, and he can't help but kiss you. You cling to him tightly, like you're starved for touch. His touch.

He sits down on the edge of his living room couch and brings you down with him, to straddle his thighs. You take his face into your gentle hands and briefly look down at him with a smile.

He sees things in your eyes that he's never seen from a woman before. Softness. Genuine caring. Maybe even something deeper.

But you tense up a little, the second his hands venture under the hem of your blouse.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He can't fucking figure you out. You seem to be into him (and more), but you don't want him to touch you.

You hesitate. "It's just...um..."

With much effort, Ben controls every impatient, borderline callous remark he wants to make and squeezes your hips.

"Just tell me, baby doll. You're not gonna shock me."

You smile at the sight of his grin. You let out a breath and take off your blouse yourself. Ben eyes you hungrily as you bare yourself to him.

You unclip your bra and his eyes are drawn to your breasts...and then the scars. Just like you feared they would be.

But he doesn't look disgusted or put off. He just raises his brows at you.

"Is that what the fuck you're worried about?" he asks.

Your throat constricts for a moment as you rest your hands on his chest. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the fitted shirt.

Ben dips his chin and catches your downturned gaze. Then his head bows a little further, and he traces the scars lightly with his tongue.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you watch him, but pleasure tingles delicately down your spine and across your skin as his tongue swirls around a nipple. He lifts you up higher against him so he has easier access. All you can do is cling to his arms, sink your fingers into his hair, and moan wantonly as he ravishes your body.

By the end of the night, he knocks every single insecurity out of your head. (And you both sleep soundly, fully sated in his bed.)

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Feel like my fingers ran a marathon. I got into this one deeper than I thought I would! I hope it hit all the right notes. 💕💕

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#ask me stuff #breast reduction scars #How Dean Beau and Soldier Boy/Ben react #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen #beau arlen x you #beau arlen imagine #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy #soldier boy imagine #supernatural #spn #big sky #the boys #smuttish #zepskies answers

[katherinezeetajones]

Meet my mom...

Andy Herrera x f reader | fluff, mentions of homophobia (in the past)

Summary: you and Andy are engaged, after an unconventional proposal. One thing remains before the happily ever after. Well, maybe two. The first one is to meet Andy's mom. The second one would be the wedding planning. Today, it's the first one.

Winter is ever present, snow everywhere you look. Your fiance (and your lieutenant) Andy is holding your arm, linking the nook of your elbow within hers, walking along the snow covered sidewalk together.

"are you okay?" Andy asks you, resting her other hand on top of yours, the engagement ring you gave her glinting under the afternoon sun.

You smile at her, easily nodding. "Yeah, I mean... It's just... Meeting your mom, whom you thought was dead for most of your adult life,"

She gives you an unamused look. "You'll be fine. I was mad at her for lying to me, yes—but I needed her more than I resented her, so here we are. I'm a bit traditional, baby... So you gotta meet mami first, then we start planning the wedding,"

"no, I get that..." You shake your head, the two of you continuing on walking, unaware of how your rhythm—and probably heartbeat, is already in sync. "I'm just a little nervous, that's all. I never... never got to this stage in a relationship where I have to meet anyone's parents before,"

Andy chuckles, looking back at the path ahead of you. "Then aren't I lucky, locking you down before anyone else swoops in,"

You roll your eyes. "Herrera got jokes,"

"which Herrera are you talking about? You or me?" Andy coyly asks, playfully nudging your shoulder with hers.

You flush at the sentiment. Yeah, you were the one who proposed to her. But the thought of being mrs. Herrera... Belonging with Andy... it sends you into a tizzy. "It's the both of us,"

Seeing your fiance satisfied with the answer, soon you both fall into a companionable silence as you keep walking to your destination, which soon comes into view.

"we're here," Andy nods, guiding your arm to walk to where she points at earlier, to a quaint little house nestled comfortably inbetween neighboring houses.

You swallow. You're still human, after all. And one of the universal experiences of being human is having the urge to throw up before meeting your fiance's parents for the first time. "Andy,"

"yeah?" She turns to you, noticing how you're falling behind her, your fiance holding her fist an inch away from knocking on the wooden door.

"does she... Does she know you're into women—" you try to stall.

She gives you a look. "I told mami everything,"

"even when we're—"

Andy shakes her head with an eye roll, and she knocks on the door, giving you no further room to fib and glib your way out of this situation.

The door opens... And a middle aged woman, calm and composed is behind it, smiling calmly, yet excited too see the two of you.

"Baby," the woman beams, immediately wrapping Andy in a bear hug. They hug like crazy!

And when Andy parts from her mother, she looks at you, and smiles. "You must be Andy's beau,"

"that's me," you walk forward, putting your hand out for a cordial handshake.

She shakes her head at your hand... And you were about to retract it, but she wraps you into a hug instead.

"we don't shake hands with family," she whispers softly as she hugs you, tight and comfy.

You almost want to tear up, if you still didn't have the nerves. "thank you..." Was all you could manage in response.

She parts from you, and beckons the two of you inside her home.

Andy gives you a look as she put her hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside.

—

"so, Andy told me you've been together for two years," Andy's mom addresses the both of you, a calm smile on her face, sitting on the sofa across you both. "But she never actually told me how you met,"

You want to run out of the house. What do you even tell Andy's mom? The truth is quite hilarious, after all. "...Well, Mrs. Herrera—"

"please, call me Elena," she cuts you off with a wave of her hand, a little miffed by you formality. "Give me all the details,"

Andy looks at you, a little sheepish. "Well, mami—if you must know..."

You hold Andy's hand, feeling a bit of her sheepishness pouring through you. She looks at you for approval, and you subtly nod, giving Andy the yes to tell the story.

Andy nods, relieved. "We met at a bar. A gay bar,"

Elena looks surprised, despite not really needing to, since you're both sitting across her, very much as two women about to be married. "A gay bar, mija?"

But the way she asks that is more amused than concerned, which puzzles you.

Andy sighs, her grip on your hand tightening by a mile. "I didn't really know where I was going, mami. See, that was when Maya became captain—"

Then Elena's face turns into one of knowing. "Ah... When Pruitt made the backstabbing decision to influence Sullivan... to not make you captain,"

Andy nods, solemn. "Yeah, I was... I didn't know what to do, mami. I was just going where my legs would take me, and..." She looks into your eyes, as if drawing strength from your gaze. She looks back at Elena, nodding. "...and I met her,"

Elena smiles knowingly, looking at you. "...so you two definitely hooked up that night,"

"Mami!" Andy gasped, more amused than mad at her mother's inappropriate (yet correct) assumption. "That's—that's not—"

Andy's reaction is more than enough of an answer for her mother, and she slyly smiles at the two of you. "And you, dear. How do you feel about my daughter?"

You try to come up with the words... But you don't know what to say. "I..."

Elena leans forward, curious to hear your answer with raised eyebrows. "I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous, dear. But you are going to be marrying my only daughter, so I have to know if you deserve to or not, and what kind of a person you are,"

"Mami," Andy gives her mom a displeased tone, holding your hand tight in hers, as you feel yourself sinking deeper into the couch you're sharing with your fiance.

"I'm sorry, Elena... I..." You try to gather your thoughts, creasing your eyebrows all the while. "I just... I'll be real with you, I have never dated anyone the way I dated your daughter," you look to Andy, giving you an all too fond of a smile. "Andy is special. She's... she's like an open flame, she's passionate, she's amazing at what she does, and she's got conviction and she sticks to her guns, no matter what. And I... I'm just grateful that she chose me, because I love her, so very much, that I don't even want to know how life's gonna be like if I don't see her everyday,"

Andy squeezes your hand tighter, half hugging you, resting her head on your shoulder.

Elena seems gobsmacked with your answer. "Oh, honey... That's so..."

"beautiful?" Andy asks.

"well, yes, and your fiance is way more eloquent than any of your past boyfriends ever were!" Elena laughs, amused and satisfied with your answer.

Andy rolls her eyes. "She's sitting right here, mami,"

You shake your head. "It's okay, Andy... Your mom's right, she deserves to know what kind of person you'll be marrying,"

"well, I'm going to marry you, okay, rookie? You're the one for me," Andy reassures you, looking you in the eyes with her deep brown eyes, soulful and true.

You feel like crying. "What was I even nervous for? Your mom's amazing,"

Andy shrugs with a smile. "Yes, despite being so nosy," she makes a point to accentuate the nosy while looking at Elena, to which Elena rolls her eyes.

"just wait until you see the rest of the family," Elena chuckles, standing up to grab a drink. "Speaking of, dear... What's your family like?"

You feel nothing of the question, shrugging a little too obliviously at it. "Uh, I don't know them. My biological parents uh, I don't know where they are,"

Andy purses her lips. "She grew up in the system, mami,"

Elena gives you a sympathetic look, coming back into the living room and sitting back on her spot after giving the two of you a glass of white. "I'm so sorry, dear. Are your adoptive parents...?"

You nod, not knowing what to say. "Uh, yeah, they're alive, I guess... I don't know, I..."

Andy squeezes your thigh with her thumb. "You don't have to answer that,"

You shake your head. "No, it's just... I burned through those foster homes so quickly, and the last one before I turned 17 beat me up for being gay and kicked me out, so, y'know, no love lost,"

Elena puts a hand on her heart, her face a million ways to say 'I'm sorry'. She sits next to you, putting a hand on yours. "I'm sorry, dear. You have Andy now, and you have me. We're your family,"

You let a teardrop fall, and Elena suddenly hugs you, tight. Andy hugs you from the other side, and you feel an emotion you never thought you could feel.

Safe.

—

Having said your goodbyes to Elena, you and Andy walk hand in hand to the sidewalk, back to where you're from.

Andy sticks to you like glue, not saying anything.

"was I being too much?" You suddenly ask.

Andy creases her eyebrows. "Of course not, rookie. Why would you say that?"

"I... I thought I might've been too much," you shrug, still holding Andy's arm in yours as you continue walking.

Andy sighs, out of love. "I keep telling you, rookie. You don't have to put up walls with me, nor with our 19 family—nor with mami. They all love you, I love you,"

You wordlessly lean your head on her shoulder, overflowing with love for your soon to be wife. "...I know, I'm... I'm a work in progress, okay? At least my bones heal quicker than my past trauma, being a firefighter and all,"

Andy chuckles, shaking her head. "Future mrs. Herrera got jokes,"

You sheepishly laugh. "Come on, let's go faster. It's so cold out here,"

Your fiance complies, walking faster next to you, still hand in hand.

Wedding planning doesn't seem so hard with Andy Herrera by your side.

—

Tagging @geekyandgay98

#wlw imagine #station 19 #station 19 x reader #andy herrera #andy herrera x reader #andy herrera x you #andy herrera x female reader #wedding planning fic next :-)

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 19

A/N: Only one more chapter left guys. I hope ya'll have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

It was only about half an hour before I saw headlights coming toward me as I stood at the entrance of Walker farm.

The vehicle slowed and I immediately recognized Beau's red truck. I smile as I step forward and grab the handle when he comes to a stop.

"Hello stranger," I say, happy to see him but that joy quickly fades when I see his face. His brows are furrowed and his lips are clamped into a thin line. 

"What are you doing here?"

Okay, he was upset. If his face hadn't given it away, the anger in his voice surely would. But why was he mad?

"Told you I came to visit a friend," I explain again. "But we had a disagreement and I don't know if I can still consider him a friend."

"Him? Who's him? He wouldn't be a Texas Ranger would he?"

"Uh…..oh-" I say as I realize Beau and Cordell know one another. In fact, that's how I met Cordell; he had come to Helena looking for the man beside me. "-yea. But I'm guessing you've already figured that out."

Beau didn't say anything, just dropped the truck in gear and started driving down the dark highway. It was quiet in the cab, other than Beau's brooding.

"How did you become friends with Walker?" he queried about five minutes later. 

"Funny story," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "He came up a few months back, looking for you. Said he needed help on an old case you two worked together on."

"Mmm," Beau hummed and I started considering how much to tell him. 

"Listen, this was not long after you left and came back to restart your life with your family. I was-" I pause to think of the right word to use. "-bitter.  I felt rejected. I know you and I hadn't really labeled what we were, or weren't but I was feeling down and saw him as a way to try and get over you so I asked him out."

Beau doesn't say a word, he is listening but not giving any input so I continue.  "After our date, he left the next morning but we kept in contact…"

"Your date lasted all night?" Beau asks and I see him grip the steering wheel tight, his knuckles turning white.

"Uh, yea.  He spent the night with me." I know I'm making myself out as a slut but I've decided to come clean - so I do. "We had sex."

"I got the obvious hint."

"So we exchanged numbers and texted or talked everyday. I thought we were becoming more than friends, but apparently I was wrong."

"Y/N," Beau says, and his voice is softer now, almost imploring. "What did he do?"

I shrug, now feeling like an idiot for thinking we were anything more. "Nothing, really. Just put some things into perspective for me."

"That's……vague," Beau announces. "Do I need to turn this truck around and go kick some Ranger ass?"

I laughed. "No. It's okay. Not even worth your time. He's a player. Sex for him is just a way to pass the time. I'm the one who brought intimacy into the equation."

The rest of the drive back is quiet save for the radio playing on low, barely audible. I use the silence to recall all that has happened in the last year of my life.

I leave a narcissistic boyfriend and move halfway across the country, get a job, make friends, get a stalker who almost kills me. One of the so-called friends betrays me in the foulest, tasteless ways - get chummy with and end up moving in with the acting Sheriff at the time - only for him to leave to go back to his ex-wife. Then meet a man who I think could be something more, only to find out he is the exact opposite of who I thought he was. 

To say my life has improved is laughable. Maybe I'm the problem. The common denominator in all those scenarios is me.

“So, um-" I break the stillness. "-how's your wife, Carla, is it? How does she feel about you coming out to pick me up?"

"She doesn't know," Beau grunts out.  

"Oh? Keeping secrets already? That doesn't sound proactive to your relationship."

"Mmhmm," Beau hums and turns into the parking lot of a hotel.  I'm surprised that they live here, seeing as his wife and daughter always seem to be so well off when I'd met them before. 

"I don't live with Carla and Emily any more."

That statement shocks me. I have so many questions. Why? What happened? Is that why he said he was coming back to Helena? But it's my turn to stay quiet while he talks.

"It's not working out between us," he says. "I thought we could be a family again, give Em a stable family foundation but," he pauses and I watch him run a hand over his mouth and down his chin, over the beard there. "Some things have been brought into perspective for me too."

A few hours earlier…….

Looking over the printed page of his words, Beau nods to himself before grabbing the pen and signing his name. He opens the drawer in his desk and slips the page into a notebook; he isn't completely ready to turn it in and doesn't want anyone to see it before he can hand it to his chief.

He walks toward the entrance to the police department and steps out into the warm sunshine. Pulling the sunglasses down over his eyes, he strolls down the sidewalk toward his truck. He is on a mission.

Once across town, he parks on another street and gets out, looking across the two-laned road at the offices of Gibbs & Watson Law Firm. 

Inside the skyscraper, on the 12th floor is the only obstacle in the way of his plans: Carla Delugo-McAllister, paralegal to one of the firm's lawyers. 

This isn't the first time he's visited her while at work, but this is by far the most nerve-wracking. He pulls one of the double doors open, holding it for an elderly couple who was exiting. He nods a welcome to them as they both thank him for his kindness and then heads inside toward the bank of elevators.

Once on the correct floor he strides toward the reception area, smiling as he sees the receptionist, Shayla, adjust herself when she sees who is approaching. 

"Ms. Kenney, how're you today darlin'?"

Her cheeks blush and she tried to suppress a giggle. "Good, Officer Arlen. You here to see Mrs. McAllister?"

"You are one sharp cookie," he teases. "Is she available?"

Shayla picks up the phone and punches in a code before speaking. She nods toward Beau and he smiles his thanks before rounding the desk,  heading  down the hall.

As soon as he steps into the office, he sees Carla studying something on the computer in front of her. Her eyes never leave the screen as she speaks.

"This is a nice surprise."

"We need to talk," he says and Carla finally looks away from whatever she was working on and turns to him.

"This sounds ominous."

Beau gently lays it out for her. How Emily was invited back up to Montana to help with Sunny Day Excursions, how he wants to be honest and truthful with her. 

"I've come to realize that I'm not happy here anymore, Car. I miss the mountains and the fresh air."

"You're going back for her, aren't you?" Carla says, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

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