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#Big Sky
zepskies · 2 days
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Take Me Home - Part 6
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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: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…
Word Count: 4.6K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~
❤️ Series Masterlist
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“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked. 
He stood there with determination set across his face.
“We really need to talk.”
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“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer. 
Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.
You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”
“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”
He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown. 
“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”
“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven. 
“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.
You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.
The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.
“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”
Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”
That sparked your anger once more.
“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.
“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”
You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.
“She got pregnant,” he admitted.
Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.
“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”
You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.
How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?
And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?
You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.
“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”
He looked down then, with shame coloring his features. 
Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.
You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.
“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”
You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.  
“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”
You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned. 
“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked. 
“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.
You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer. 
“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”
“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct. 
Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief. 
You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will. 
Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.
You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.
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After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.
He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave. 
Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.
He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you. 
As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.
Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.
He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time. 
And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?
He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.
So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.
A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.
He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.
He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.
The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.
Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.
“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.
“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.
“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.
“You okay?” he asked you.
“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.
He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.
“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.
And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.
“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.
“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.  
After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.
“Did he push you?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said. 
“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”
Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer. 
“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”
You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder. 
“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.
“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.
“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”
He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.
Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist. 
“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly. 
“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass. 
He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.
He turned to leave.
You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this. 
Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder. 
“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”
“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.
Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.
Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.
“Hey!” he called out.
Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.
“What?” he shot back.
“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.
“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”
Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.
“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.
“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”
Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.
“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.
Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.
Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.
“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”
Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.
It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.
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And your door was locked.
On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.
“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.
“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.
“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.
“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too. 
Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape. 
“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.
“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”
Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile. 
“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”
Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.
“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”
You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”
“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.
“Okay.”
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A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.
“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.
You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.
“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”
Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.
“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”
You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.
“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”
Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”
He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.
How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.
Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.
“It went south so fast,” he said.
And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.
You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.
“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”
Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”
Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.
“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”
You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”
“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”
He continued to drink his beer.
“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”
You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.
“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”
“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.” 
He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”
His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting. 
You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin. 
“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”
You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.
“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder. 
“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”
“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.  
“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”
Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.
But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.
And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt. 
It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.
Hey, where are you?
“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”
You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.
“Then you should go,” you said.
You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.
The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.
Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.
“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.
“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.” 
He looked at you in wonder. 
“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”
A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”
Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 
“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Really, thank you…”
Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.
Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.
He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.
While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.
He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.
Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.
He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.
“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip. 
“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.
You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”
Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way. 
Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.
“Nope,” he muttered.
He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today. 
He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.
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AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...
Next Time:
“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”
“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”
Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.
“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.
“Okay,” you nodded.
Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.
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Ko-Fi Me ☕
Series Masterlist
Big Sky Masterlist
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Series Tag List (Part 1):
@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106
@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons
@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow
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The Choice
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All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.
Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.
Characters/Pairings: Reader x Dean, Reader x Beau Arlen, Reader x Soldier Boy, OC mother, antique salesman
Warnings: (Warnings will be updated when chapters are released) Language, typical SB behaviour, smut, asshole mom.
W/C: 17,725 (so far)
A/N: All spicy chapters will be symbolised with a chilli pepper.
The Choice now has a Spotify playlist, which will be linked here.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven 🌶
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Inktober'23 - Day 16 - Beau Arlen
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zepskies · 2 months
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Headcanon: Teasing him under the table.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader
AN: This was requested by this lovely anon:
Could you please write an imagine or something of all three boys (Dean: love the plus-sized one-shots; Ben from BMD: love your interpretation of The Boys; and Beau) - and how would they react to their girlfriends giving them a footsie? 👀
I'm interpreting this as a "playing footsie" moment lol.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Flirting, innuendo, and some smuttiness. (You know Ben. 🙄)
Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to you teasing him under the table.
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Dean Winchester
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Because of the request, I had the Espresso-verse version of Dean and the reader in mind, but this can be general Dean x Reader too.
Dean is playful by nature. (AKA: a professional flirt.)
He enjoys working you up, but he enjoys it even more when you're confident enough to tease him back...even if it somehow always surprises him.
But he's been driving you crazy all damn day. Throughout the whole damn hunt.
Flirty smiles, suggestive quips masked as "innocent" remarks, brief touches to your arm, the small of your back, guiding you by your hip, a thumb swiping under your shirt and against your skin, lightly pressing into your curves...
It's all "normal," except for the deeper, suggestively teasing glint in his eyes.
He's in a good mood, and he wants you to know it.
And it's all in front of Sam, who knows the game you two are playing. Sometimes he smiles in both amusement and fondness, and he looks away to allow you guys your moment. Sometimes he rolls his eyes, or just tries to ignore it when he's had enough of you two eye-fucking in plain sight.
Dean knows what his touch does to you, but you know one or two of his weaknesses too...
When the hunt is finally over, the three of you find the closest diner to the motel you're staying at.
Dean orders the greasiest burger you've ever seen. He also teases Sam for already looking for the next case with his laptop at the table.
Dean glances over, his lips starting to curve as he licks a bit of burger juice off his fingers. He looks at you dead in the eyes while he sucks his digits clean.
He's equal parts noisy and disgusting. But damn him, your hand tightens around your glass of water. Your lips press together, and so do your legs. You nudge his foot with your boot and raise your brows. Stop it.
He pouts, and he nudges your foot right back. Make me.
You tilt your head at him. Adopting a certain smile, you slide your foot across the floor, under the table, and graze his calf with the side of your boot.
Dean's lips twitch. Sam is seemingly oblivious as he continues researching on his laptop.
Your foot travels higher up Dean's leg, up the inside of his thigh. You only gasp a little when he suddenly reaches down and grabs your ankle. His resulting smirk is salacious, even as he challenges you with his eyes. What're you gonna do now?
You contemplate exactly that, when his brother's voice startles you.
"Can you guys do me a favor and quit it?" Sam asks. He doesn't even look up from his laptop. "At least wait until we get home."
You bite your lip and blush. Both you and Dean fight harder smiles at being caught.
"No one likes a killjoy, Sammy," Dean remarks. Sam just sends his brother a dry look.
Dean's amusement remains. He taps on your ankle in contemplation, but after a moment, he lets you go. He grabs his phone and texts you under the table.
"Quickie out back?"
You grimace, then you text him back.
"Gross, babe. There are things I promised myself I'd never do in a public bathroom."
"So...meet you in 5? Come on, I'll do that thing you like. 😈"
His stupid grin, his stupid face, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop (somehow, even that is suggestive). It all eventually breaks you down.
"...Ugh, fine," you reply. You slide out of your chair first. But as you walk past him, you let your fingers brush down his neck — in a way that always makes a little shiver run down his spine. You smirk in satisfaction as you walk away.
He might've started it, but you could damn well finish it.
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Beau Arlen
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Oh, my dear cowboy sheriff...
Beau is also a jokester. He takes his work and the people in his life seriously, but he likes to keep things "loose." Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but it's mostly just his way of going through life.
Tonight, however, is a tense dinner with your parents, Beau, Emily, and his parents that are visiting from Houston.
It's a nice steakhouse, more high scale than you or Beau are used to, but your parents insisted on it. Beau's parents are good-natured and full of southern charm. They're just happy to see their son and granddaughter, let alone meet his girlfriend for the first time.
The night is only tense because, as much as you love your parents, they're not sure about you dating a man with such a dangerous job.
They also have a thing about appearances, and the fact that he's divorced and has a child who isn't yours, and frankly, all the things you don't give a rat's ass about.
Your back is ramrod straight in your chair (there's a tightness in your spine that comes every time your mom taps you on the hand with her fork to remind you not to slouch).
You can't even really taste what you're eating, because you're too focused on making sure your parents don't say anything insulting to Beau and his family.
Then a boot taps against your open-toed heel. You glance over at your boyfriend, and he's already wearing a smile. He gives you a teasing wink as he eats a forkful of mashed potatoes.
Your stress begins to melt, just like that. God, this man.
You smile back at him and take a calming sip of wine. Your mom begins to talk about her upcoming tupperware party. Your smile deepens, but not because of that.
You playfully tap your foot on Beau's without looking at him.
You feel his discreet stare on the side of your face, but you pretend to be invested in your mom's conversation about tupperware. (I mean really, I thought those parties went extinct. Apparently, not in the Midwest.)
Beau's foot nudges yours back. You hook your toes under the hem of his pant leg, inching it up and up...
He retaliates with a hand drifting down your thigh, over the skirt of your dress. He grabs just above your knee and squeezes. Your leg jerks up on reflex, and your knee hits under the table hard enough to rattle the silverware, making you yelp.
The whole table looks over at you in both surprise and concern. (Your mother more in disapproval.)
Beau bites his lip against a deeper smile.
"You okay there, baby?" he asks.
"Sorry, my foot slipped," you lie through a tight smile. When you turn to him, your eyes narrow a fraction, promising retribution. You grab his hand tightly, but he just uses the motion to bring yours up to his lips.
Beau looks forward to whatever you plan to dish out next, as long as you wait until after dessert.
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Soldier Boy (Ben)
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Aw hell, this guy. 😂 I'm imagining BMD-verse Ben for this one...
Ben has a decent sense of humor, but he doesn't often like to be teased.
He'd rather be respected.
But you love to tease him anyway.
You also know his "limits," but it doesn't stop you from figuratively tap dancing all over them when you have the opportunity. You're slowly but surely trying to get him to loosen up.
Sometimes though, it bites you in the ass.
Like tonight, when you've gotten him to come with you to a Broadway show. You two have your own private booth on the second floor balcony. (He likes the privacy, and it's safer for you, as he's argued.)
20 minutes in, and you can already tell he's gotten bored. To be fair, it's a drama that's admittedly a bit dry and slow. You don't want him to walk out before the intermission, so you start to hatch an idea...
Your legs are crossed, and you draw your high-heel slowly against the side of his foot. When he glances over you, you pretend to be invested in the show. Your arms are crossed over your black dress that falls to mid-thigh. Your jacket is draped across your lap.
You brush the thin point of your heel across the top of his shoe, then inch it up under his pant leg, higher and higher.
Until Ben's hand finally grabs hold of your knee. Biting your lip, you turn to him with a smile.
"Do you mind? I'm watching the show," you tell him. He allows you to peel his hand of your leg and place it back in his lap. You cross your legs in the opposite direction.
Ben raises his brows. His lips twitch slightly, but he seems to acquiesce, relaxing back in his seat.
For a while, you actually watch the play. You become invested in the story and the characters by the time it gets halfway through Act 1.
That's when you feel a strong hand slowly slip down your thigh and between your legs, slowly rucking up the skirt of your dress.
You try to stifle a gasp as you look over at Ben. He doesn't meet your hot stare, but his hand is certainly on the move, covered by your jacket. He brushes against your panties.
Against your better judgment, you let him spread your legs wider. A smile finally crosses his face. His fingers hook around your underwear and brush between your folds. You let out a shaky breath and shift in your seat.
You know you should stop him, but you can't help the warm coil of arousal starting pool in your lower belly, and between your legs. Ben feels it with a smirk. His fingers find your clit with ease.
"Ben," you gasp, warning him in a heated whisper.
He leans over and presses a raspy kiss to your neck, thanks to his beard.
"Perks of a private room," he says. His voice is a low rumble in your ear.
You start to shake your head. You know you started this, but you also know him. This has the potential to go off the rails very quickly.
"This isn't a room. We're on a damn balcony," you breathe out, even as his fingers continue to work you over. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "Anyone could—"
"Who gives a fuck?" Ben says gruffly.
As usual, his raunchy brand of logic (and his talented hands) manage to persuade you to give in.
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AN: lol I had fun with this one. Let me know what you think! 💜
Dean Winchester Imagines
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Big Sky Masterlist
Soldier Boy Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Dean, Beau + SB Tag List (Part 1)
@melancholictearz @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman
@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup
@jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @mrsjenniferwinchester
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justjensenanddean · 1 month
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Jensen Ackles as Beau Arlen BIG SKY: Deadly Trails (2022) | 3.09 – “Where There's Smoke There's Fire”
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avengerdaisy · 3 days
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Beau Arlen & Jenny Hoyt (with Cassie Dewell and Mo Poppernak) in Big Sky [365/∞]
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let-me-be-your-home · 3 months
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Beau Arlen | Big Sky 3x11
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dailyflicks · 1 month
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Jensen Ackles as Beau Arlen || Big Sky - Catch A Few Fish (2.18)
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