#big sky gifs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 2 days

Text

Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to @cafekitsune)

A/N - Inspired by Take Me Home by @zepskies

A/N 2 - Him in this outfit is MMM

five - make him hurt, make me bleed

PREVIOUSLY ON LMF:

A man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes strolled into the newly opened diner where Olivia met Tom, whistling under his breath. His phone was on, a photo of him and a redheaded woman displaying a ring on the lock screen, a heart drawn around her made up face. A worker called Dan put down his mop, strolling over with a sunny smile. “Evening, sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah, thanks, man.” The man nodded with a friendly grin, eyes darting around the room as his fingers fiddled in his pocket. “I’m, uh, I’m lookin’ for my son. His name’s Tom Holden. Have you seen him?”

“He went off with a girl, Olivia Barlowe, earlier.” Dan informed, hand running through his hair as he gauged the man’s character. “Why, you have something to tell him? I can pass the message on, y’know.”

“Oh, that’d be great.” He took out a notebook from the inside of his jacket, writing an address in neat handwriting before ripping it out and handing it to Dan with a chuckle, his cerulean eyes twinkling. “Just tell him his old man’s in town, yeah?”

“Does his old man have a name?” Dan raised an eyebrow with a small smirk as he folded the paper, careful not to read the address since it was a breach of privacy.

“Oh! Oh, yeah.” The man nodded, looking down for a moment with a deep laugh before he glanced back up. “Harry. Harry Holden.”

NOW:

“Alright, you know what to do.” I gestured in front, leaning back in my seat as I glanced at Olivia. “We’re moving onto slower roads, so clutch, change gears.” She did as I asked, and I grinned, clapping as quietly as I could to not spook her. “Good work, sweetheart. You’re a natural, just like your mom.” We pulled up at a grocery store, so I grabbed my wallet, prepping to get out. “Hang tight, gun’s in the glovebox, keep the car door locked until you see me at the passenger’s door, ok?”

“Got it, auntie.” She nodded, so I relaxed, getting out of the car. I shut the door, making my way inside the store while whistling a little tune. I made a beeline for the fruits, picking up a basket on the way before picking out the best ones, dropping them into my basket. My whistling turned into a hum, brushing my curtain bangs out of my face before inspecting a box of strawberries.

“Sunflower, I’m plannin’ on making some strawberry cheesecake, do you think these are good?” Lucy held up a box of rasberries, grinning innocently because if she didn’t know. I smirked knowingly, and replaced the box of raspberries with a box of strawberries. “Oh! Thanks. Silly me.”

“Issy?” I was yanked reluctantly out of the memory, looking up and my blood running cold as I saw… Harry. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. “It is you, oh, I knew it!” There he goes again with that British accent that makes my skin crawl. It used to make my knees weak.

“Harry.” I sighed, smiling politely, but it faltered when I saw Rhea walk up with… Tom. I locked eyes with the boy and it clicked instantly, a sharp pang of pain shooting through my chest. “And Tom’s… your son?”

“You know my boy?” Harry grinned, clapping Tom on the shoulder. “Well, my darling-” He held Rhea’s hand, which I noticed had a shiny ring on it, “and I adopted Tom a while ago. Rhea, you know Isabelle, right?”

“You’re Tom’s old friend, right?” The redhead smiled, putting out her hand. “Rhea Summers- no, sorry, Holden. Rhea Holden, neé Summers, it’s hard to compute.”

I shook her hand, forcing a chuckle, my mouth feeling dry. “Elle Joyner.”

“Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party.” I heard a familiar Texas accent behind me, and I instantly knew it was Beau, and he laid a protective hand on my shoulder. Harry’s eyebrow twitched, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he glanced between Beau and I. “Who’s this, sweetheart?” He knew exactly who this was, so it confused me a little.

“Harry Holden.” Harry introduced, putting out his hand for Beau to shake, seemingly bothered and slightly intimidated since the man was taller than him. “I’m, uh, Elle’s old friend.” Beau’s eyebrow quirked, instantly clocking that Harry was lying. But he shook the latter’s hand anyway, adopting a smile.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen.” He introduced, putting unnecessary emphasis on the first word of the sentence. He then put his hand on my hip, drawing me closer in a manner that was almost possessive. “I’m Belle’s boyfriend.” Oh. Oh, we’re doing that. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, then decided to play along, kissing Beau’s cheek (albeit I had to stand en pointe, and I am NO ballet dancer). I saw a tinge of red flood his cheeks, but he affectionately rubbed my side with a chuckle.

“Your boyfriend.” Harry repeated quietly before clearing his throat and raising his voice slightly. “Well, Olivia will be seeing Tom tonight, won’t she? I’ll drop her off, if that’s ok.”

“Mhmm, yeah, it’s ok. I’ll, uh, see you tonight.” I nodded, swallowing as Beau’s grip felt more prominent on my hip, as if he tightened it slightly. When Harry, Rhea and Tom trotted off like the happy family I seldom had but wanted, I turned to Beau with an apologetic look. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” He smirked, kissing my cheek in what I assumed was revenge, because my ears went red, my eyes widening slightly as I swallowed on a dry throat.

So… more of an attempt.

In the dimly lit basement of an abandoned warehouse, Cal Joyner found himself bound to a rusty chair, the metallic restraints digging into his flesh, adding to the weight of fear and desperation already bearing down on him. The flickering bulb overhead cast erratic shadows that danced across the grimy walls, framing his captors—members of a notorious crime syndicate—as they loomed over him with a menacing presence.

Remy, a burly man with a scarred face and eyes as cold as steel, stepped forward and snarled, "You think we're playing games here, Cal? We want Lucy's phone, and we want it now."

Cal's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist. His pulse raced, and his throat felt dry. "I already told you, I don't have it!" he protested, his voice strained with a mixture of fear and defiance. "I don't know where it is."

Beside Remy, another thug with a menacing smirk etched into his features cracked his knuckles. "Maybe you need a little more convincing," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.

Cal's thoughts flashed back to that haunting night six years ago when Lucy, his beloved daughter, was taken from him. The pain was still raw, a wound that refused to heal. The memory of her murder lingered like a relentless specter, its grip tightening with each passing moment. And now, these men were threatening his only remaining daughter.

"You touch Elle," Cal spat, his eyes burning with defiance, "and I swear—"

The thug cut him off with a menacing laugh. "Oh, we will touch her, Cal. Unless you start being honest with us."

Cal's jaw clenched, his mind racing through a fog of fear and desperation. He was backed into a corner, and lying was second nature to him, even in this dire circumstance. "I already told you, Lucy's phone is gone. Destroyed."

Remy's patience wore thin. He seized Cal by the collar, his grip like iron. "Listen, you scum. We know you're lying. Lucy kept everything on that phone—information that could bury our client, and he paid a large sum o’ money for our services. We like to deliver. So, we want it back, and we'll tear this whole town apart if we have to."

Cal's eyes flickered towards the door, his thoughts scrambling for a way out. But the goon's grip tightened, yanking him back into the harsh reality of his predicament.

"Last chance, Cal," Remy growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where. Is. The. Phone?"

In that tense moment, Cal's mind raced. He thought of his daughter, of the desperate need to protect her as she tried to protect him. He had to buy time, he had to think. "I don’t know!" he blurted out, his voice trembling. "I… don’t know."

The thug exchanged a skeptical glance with Remy before nodding. "You've got twenty-four hours. If you don't come up with answers, we'll bring Elle here."

As the syndicate members filed out of the room, leaving Cal alone with his thoughts, he sagged against the chair, his heart heavy with dread. The cold sweat that had formed on his brow trickled down his temple, and his hands shook uncontrollably.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the tumultuous storm raging within him. The memories of Lucy flooded back—her bright smile, her laughter, her dreams shattered by a cruel twist of fate. He couldn't let the same fate befall his only remaining daughter. He had to find a way out of this, but the odds seemed insurmountable.

Hours passed in agonizing silence broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside—a world oblivious to the terror festering in this forsaken basement. Cal's mind raced through a labyrinth of regrets and fears, each turn leading him deeper into despair.

When the basement door creaked open once more, Cal's heart skipped a beat. The heavy thud of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit space as Remy and his men returned, their silhouettes casting elongated shadows against the grimy walls. The flickering bulb overhead bathed them in an eerie light, rendering their expressions unreadable beneath the dance of light and shadow.

Remy's gaze bore into Cal like steel. "Well, Cal, any revelations?" His voice was low and commanding, cutting through the tense silence that enveloped the basement.

Cal's throat felt dry as he searched desperately for words, any words that could appease these dangerous men. His mind raced, grappling with fear and uncertainty. "I've been trying to remember," he stammered, his voice hoarse with anxiety. "But it's all a blur. Please, just give me more time."

The thug standing beside Remy snorted dismissively. "Time's up, old man. We're not in the business of waiting."

Remy's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin like fraying rope. "You're testing our goodwill, Cal. That's dangerous territory."

Cal's pulse quickened as he felt the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him. He knew he was running out of options, but the thought of Elle's safety propelled him forward, a flicker of determination igniting within the depths of his despair.

And then, as if a spark of inspiration had ignited in the darkness, Cal's gaze fell upon the shadows creeping along the walls—the same shadows that had become his silent allies in this harrowing ordeal.

"I remember something," Cal began, his voice steadier now, laced with a glimmer of hope amidst the prevailing fear. "It's a long shot, but... Lucy used to talk about a storage unit she kept for sentimental stuff. Maybe the phone is there."

Remy's eyes narrowed further, skepticism etched into every line of his scarred face. "Don't play games with us, Cal."

"I'm not," Cal insisted, the lie slipping effortlessly from his lips. "I'll take you there. Just... spare Elle."

The thug exchanged a meaningful glance with Remy, their silent communication speaking volumes of the danger that lingered in the air. After a tense moment of deliberation, Remy finally nodded, a glimmer of reluctant acceptance in his eyes.

"Fine, Cal," Remy relented, his voice tinged with caution. "You've got one chance. Lead the way."

Relief flooded through Cal like a rushing tide, though he masked it behind a façade of determination. He knew he was treading on thin ice, balancing on a knife's edge between deception and survival. But for his youngest’s sake, he would navigate this treacherous path with unwavering resolve.

As they unbound him from the rusty chair, Cal's limbs felt heavy with both exhaustion and renewed purpose. He rose to his feet, the cold basement air biting against his skin as he prepared to embark on this perilous journey.

Together, they ascended from the depths of the basement, stepping out into the frigid embrace of the night. The distant sounds of the city seemed muffled, drowned out by the weight of their shared secrets and impending dangers.

Cal led the way through narrow alleyways, empty highways and deserted streets for hours that felt like days, his mind racing with the urgency of their mission. Each step forward carried the weight of uncertainty, a delicate dance between deceit and salvation.

The storage unit Lucy had mentioned existed on the outskirts of town—a forgotten corner obscured by neglect and urban decay. As they approached the weathered metal door, Cal's heart hammered against his chest with a mixture of apprehension and hope.

He fumbled with the lock, the metallic clink resonating in the silence of the night. With a creak, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit interior cluttered with dusty boxes and forgotten relics.

Remy and his men followed closely behind, their wary eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of deception. Cal's gaze swept over the disarray, his memories of Lucy flooding back with a poignant ache.

"She kept it somewhere here," Cal murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved cautiously through the labyrinth of forgotten treasures, his hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He searched desperately, found object after object, but no phone. He knew that the game was up, that his lies had only gotten so far. “I swear, it’s here-” He collapsed in a crumpled, lifeless heap as a gunshot rang out through the hollow space, smoke pluming from Remy’s gun as he blew it off.

“My patience wore thin.” Remy’s sighed, storing the gun back in its holster. He turned to the rest of his team, nodding resignedly. “You lot know what to do.”

Markham poured himself a glass of wine, trying to settle his nerves as he set the table for dinner. Olivia was visiting for the weekend, as she did when no one was at home, per the arrangement with her aunt. Markham’s relationship with Olivia was polite but distant, a delicate balance between the roles of stepfather and guardian. He often struggled to connect with her, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had formed between them over the years.

When Olivia entered the dining room, her eyes brightened at the sight of the beautifully set table. “Wow, this looks amazing, Mark,” she said with a warm smile, taking her seat.

Mark nodded, attempting a smile in return. “Thank you, Olivia. I’m glad you’re here.” He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on his mind. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

Olivia glanced up from her plate, her expression softening. “I’ve been good, thank you,” she replied politely. “School’s going well. Aunt Isa says hi, by the way.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mark said, trying to hide his disappointment at the mention of Olivia’s aunt. “Listen, Liv, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Olivia looked up curiously, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. “Sure, what is it?”

Mark took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. “I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time for a change. I know you’ve been living with your aunt for a while now, but I’d like you to consider staying with me permanently.”

Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise, and then her brow furrowed slightly. “Oh,” she said softly, setting her fork down. “I… I appreciate that, Mark, but I really like living with Aunt Isa. She’s been taking care of me for so long, and I feel comfortable there.”

“I understand,” Mark replied, trying to keep his tone even. “But I think it would be good for us to spend more time together, to get to know each other better.”

Olivia fidgeted with her napkin, a troubled look crossing her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, Mark. You’re nice to me and everything. It’s just… Aunt Isa has always been there for me. She’s like a second mom.”

Mark’s heart sank a little at Olivia’s words. He had hoped that she would see him as more than just a distant figure in her life. “I see,” he said quietly, hiding his disappointment behind a forced smile. “Well, I want you to be happy, Olivia. That’s the most important thing.”

Olivia nodded, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mark. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mark said, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just want what’s best for you.”

The rest of the dinner passed in strained conversation, both Mark and Olivia making an effort to keep things light. As they finished their meal, Mark cleared his throat again, summoning the courage to address the inevitable.

“Well, Olivia,” he began, “it’s getting late. I should take you back to your aunt’s place.”

Olivia nodded, pushing her plate aside. “Okay,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast.

Mark stood up and walked around the table to where Olivia was sitting. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to convey a sense of reassurance. “Thank you for coming over, Olivia. I always enjoy having you here.”

Olivia looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you, Mark. I’m sorry I can’t… you know…”

Mark smiled sadly, squeezing her shoulder gently. “It’s alright, Olivia. Maybe one day things will be different.”

Olivia nodded, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mark fetched his keys and jacket, and together they made their way to the door. Olivia grabbed her coat and bag, her movements slow and deliberate.

Outside, Mark held open the car door for Olivia, waiting patiently as she settled into the passenger seat. As he drove towards her aunt’s house, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words.

When they arrived, Mark pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine. He turned to Olivia, his expression earnest. “Take care of yourself, Olivia,” he said softly.

Olivia nodded, her eyes shining. “You too, Mark.”

I opened the door, adopting a wide smile as I ignored the mixture of red, blue and green cars, along with a random black sedan, as my eyes focused on Olivia, her golden curls bouncing as she bounded up to me. She threw her arms around me, and I returned it with a laugh. “I missed you too, gumdrop.” I grinned, kissing her hair. “C’mon, I got ice cream.” I led her inside, closing the door with a curt nod to Mark. “What flavour are you feelin’ tonight? Vanilla or mint chocolate chip?”

“How about both?”

“I like the way you think.” I smirked, going to the freezer and pulling out the two tubs. “We’re gonna have this snack before heading to the sheriff’s trailer, because he hosts movie night. That ok with you?” I gave her a soft smile, only willing to go if she was.

However, her eyes lit up and so did the rest of her face, a broad grin spreading on her lips. “Yeah, of course! I still can’t get over the fact that my aunt has movie nights with the sheriff.” Olivia smirked. “Is there something you’re not telling me-?”

“Olivia Autumn Barlowe, where do you get these ideas from?” I passed her a bowl of ice cream with a laugh. “Jenny, Cassie and Carla will be there too.” I gave her a stern look, but couldn’t help but break into giggles again alongside her. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” I was about to open my mouth, but there was a loud bang on the door. My hand rubbed my exposed forearm from where my plaid shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, a small frown on my face as another, more forceful bang shook the doorframe. It didn’t sound like it’d hold, and the many men’s voices from outside told me that this was a situation that I needed to get Olivia out of. I grabbed the keys to the back door just as a look of terror crossed her pretty features, breaking my heart.

“A-Auntie? What’s going on?” She whispered, looking to me with pleading eyes. I walked over quickly, acting on my feet and putting the keys in her hand.

“I don’t know. But you need to go.” I gripped her shoulders tight, my eyes flickering to the door, which was echoing- bang, bang, bang - and making it hard to think as the door rattled on what I knew were now flimsy hinges. “Out of the back door, ok? Our phones are upstairs, so there’s no time to get ‘em. Don’t get in the car, they might see you. Just run, keep on running, you know where Sheriff Arlen’s trailer is. Go tell him what’s happening, and he has backup with him already, ok? I need you to be strong for me and stay calm, alright?” Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, so I hugged her quickly, then kissed her forehead. “Please, sweetie. Run.” And she did what she was told right as the door busted down. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer, ready to attack. Five men rushed in, all younger, taller, and with stronger builds.

There’s no way I was winning this fight.

“There’s Cal Joyner’s little girl.” One of them smirked, stepping towards me. “And she’s got a knife.”

“She’s a pretty little thing.” Another added with a matching wolffish grin. “D’you reckon we should have our fun with her?” The statement made my blood run cold and heart thank my mind over and over that I got Olivia out.

“Not if she’s wielding that pigstick.”

“That won’t be a problem, Yates, we’ll have that out of her hands in seconds.”

“Don’t you dare.” I spoke up, holding the knife out cautiously, trying to remain strong. “Deputy Elle Joyner, Sheriff’s Department. Tell me what you’ve done to Cal.”

“Cal’s got a bullet in his brain, sugar lips.” The one at the front chuckled, stepping forward, and with one clean swipe, his beefy hand knocked the knife out of my hand, another fist connecting with my cheek and knocking me to the floor. My fingers touched my bloody lip gingerly, but I found my back crashing through the glass coffee table, the shards slicing my clothes and skin. My brain tried to compute the pain as I let out a small groan, even more so when the wood of my dining table chair came into view. I rolled over, letting it hit my back with a strangled cry.

Olivia was running like her life depended on it- or her aunt’s, more accurately, sprinting over to Beau’s trailer with her legs pumping and tears flying from her pretty blue eyes.

“Say, is Belle gonna take any longer?” Beau chuckled deeply, his fingers drumming on the chair leg.

“Give her some time, Beau.” Carla chastised. “She has a life.”

“Yeah, Beau.” Jenny smirked, nudging him with a cheeky grin.

“You tell her, Carla.” Cassie added with a giggle, and when Beau looked to Emily for support, she shrugged in a way that said ‘don’t look at me’.

“You inducted my daughter into your little support group.” Beau faux-gasped. “I’ll never forgive you. Never-”

“SHERIFF!” Olivia came bounding up the driveway, and all of them sensed right away that something was seriously wrong. Beau met her halfway, catching Olivia as she practically collapsed into his arms with rasping, shaky breaths, on the verge of having a panic attack.

“Easy, Liv, sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asked with a frown, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down. “Shh, easy, talk to me.”

“It’s A-Aunt Isa!” She cried, holding onto him like a lifeline. The sentence made Jenny, Cassie and Carla stand up, the latter gesturing for Emily to stay put. “Some men s-started breaking d-down the door, s-she told me to run; why did I run-”

“I’ve got you.” Beau nodded, sharing a look with Jenny and Cassie. “Your aunt’s gonna be ok. I’m gonna go with Jenny. You stay here, with Carla and Cassie, alright? I won’t let anythin’ happen to her, sweetheart. I promise.” Then he turned to Jenny, grabbing his keys from a side table. “Hoyt, let’s go.”

“I’ll call for an ambulance.” Jenny announced, pulling out her phone as they rushed to Beau’s car, Jenny’s panicked voice and the emergency line operator filling the atmosphere. After a drive that felt like an eternity, they pulled up at their destination and almost leapt out to find the door ajar and shards of glass and splinters of wood on the floor, along with a stain of red that only sent chills down their bones.

“BELLE!” Beau yelled as he ran inside, and the moment he saw my body, lying weak, barely conscious and covered in blemishes and remnants of blows, he fell to his knees beside me. I recognised his face only barely, a short, raspy breath leaving my mouth as I tried to say his name. Was Olivia ok? Is she safe? Of course she is, otherwise Beau wouldn’t have found me- God, my everything hurts. “Hoyt- Hoyt! I need an ETA on the ambulance.” Panic riddled his voice as he checked me over. “I-It’s bad, J-Jenny, it’s bad, she’s bruised all over- what did those bastards do to her?” He looked down at me, my eyes meeting his pretty green ones as he smoothed back my hair from my face. “Stay with me, Deputy. Don’t go passin’ on me now, don’t you dare.”

I tried to whisper out anything at all, but my lungs and/or ribs hurt too much.

I woke up groggily in Beau’s cabin for the third time this week, rubbing my forehead as I grunted softly, propping myself up on the pillows. Beau now no longer trusted the safety of my own house, which had now become a crime scene, therefore prompting him to insist that I stay at his trailer while Dean took care of Olivia. I had taken a beating that day, and my limbs felt like Jello.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” Beau stepped in with an affectionate smile, sitting down beside my legs, his hand on my knee while his thumb stroked it. “You doin’ better?”

“Physically, yes.” I nodded, sighing dejectedly as I took in the angry red marks on my forearms. He tried to meet my eyes with what looked like concern add even pity flashing behind his.

“And… emotionally?”

“I…” I bit my lip, frowning as I looked down at my hands. The hands of the law, or so I claim. “I just feel useless, Sheriff.”

“Useless?” He looked incredulous, his hand tightening on my knee. “T-The hell you calling useless, Belle?”

“Me.” I sighed, licking my lips nervously. “I have been so… weak lately. I’ve taken but after hit and… I was a niece to protect. If I can’t protect myself, how can I protect her from others? I feel like I’ve failed her, Sheriff. I’ve failed my baby.” My voice cracked at the end, the pain tearing at my heart.

“Your first instinct was to protect Liv.” He assured. “You didn’t think of anyone else before her. You got her to safety first, and I’d label that a damn good aunt, Belle. She’s safe and sound. No longer in danger, and she’s with her dad. She’s ok.”

I nodded. “I guess I can rest now.”

LMF TAGLIST:

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @hobby27 @thej2report @winharry @abramswife

Make sure to like, reblog with feedback and comment! Comment if you want to join the taglist!

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen fanfiction #beau #beau arlen x oc #Beau #beau arlen x you #big sky #beau arlen

23 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 months

Text

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.

Dean Winchester

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.

Beau Arlen

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.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

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.

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

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

579 notes · View notes