#big sky

total word count (so far): 8,551

Read me on Ao3! ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

⋆˚࿔ Find all the Parts Here 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

Summary:

"Persephone, I wasn't lying when I said I would burn the world for you."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

—Hades and Persephone, Unknown

꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

He was everywhere you went; Gino's pub on Friday nights when you went line dancing with your friends, your favorite spot at the lake, you can't escape him when he's always in your house taking the last beer. It doesn't make it better when his duty-as sheriff and your father's best friend-is to monitor your every move.

After a series of robberies and break-ins, it's only fitting your father would assign Sheriff Arlen to be your unofficial body guard until further notice. A few years ago, it would've been different; because a few years ago YOU were different, but college changes people. Maybe you don't see it, but he does.

He notices the stolen glances you share with one another, the way your heart races when he calls you "sweetheart," and even if he knows it's wrong, he can't help himself most nights.

He's older than you, by at least twenty years, he's off limits, he practically grew up with your father, and there's no getting away from it.

tags🏷️ :

Top Beau Arlen, beau arlen - Freeform, Fluff, Smut, dbf, beau arlen dbf, age gap, Bodyguard, Forbidden Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, dom beau arlen, midwest gothic, gothic coastal small town vibe where something doesn't feel right, PIV, Protective Beau Arlen, Jealous Beau Arlen, Older Man/Younger Woman, No Pregnancy, i have tokophobia im sorry, small town, Cunnilingus, summertime, Gloomy Weather, Cock Warming, Reader-Insert, No Use of y/n for reader-Insert, maybe catholic guilt, talking you through it, Fluff and Angst, Southern Gothic, Praise Kink, Angst and Porn, Yearning, a man who yearns is a man who earns, older beau arlen, Dom/sub Undertones, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Probably Accidental Voyeurism, Sneaking Around, calls you sweeheart, definitely talks you through it, Thigh Riding, Slow Burn, Dirty Talk, coastal gothic, hope you can swim, if not now you can

Chapter 01: His Favorite Girl

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wc: 1.2k

The tire swing was still hanging from the oak tree, just as you remember it being there. So many summers spent at the lake with your friends, your dad finally let you go out on your own when you began high school. High school, God, it feels like such a distant memory, you’d only graduated, what? Three years ago this June? Your friends should be coming home this weekend, Shayla mentioned she had finals all this week and with the five hour drive… Truthfully, you were lonely at college; your roommates weren’t the greatest, not many interesting classmates, you often just kept to yourself.

You inhaled your cigarette, feeling the dopamine rush as it hit the back of your throat. You missed this. The fog, cicadas and bats leaving their respective trees. After reading The Raft you knew better than to swim alone in the lake, even if you knew it like the back of your hand. Blame Shayla for gushing over his books. The sun had set a little over an hour ago behind the trees when you decided to take your old bike out of the garage and take yourself back here. Dad mentioned trying to sell it during a yard sale in the spring but decided against it, he knew you’d still use it for nights like these.

Unfortunately, this is the one occasion in which he asked for you to be home before sundown, he’s obsessed with the news and thinks you’ll get mugged. You wouldn’t, you carried pepper spray all around your college campus and even kept it in your bag now along with the golds. Another thing Dad would disapprove of, picking up another one of his habits.

Headlights flashed over the lake, you turned and covered your eyes from the blinding truck lights. Fuck. You took a quick drag from your cigarette before putting it out in the grass, covering it with some leaves. The truck lights turned off and one boot stomped on the ground after another. You noticed his starchy jeans first, then his flashy belt buckle, slowly making your way up to a sighing sheriff.

You give a cheesy smile, giving a salute. “Evening, Sheriff. Lovely weather we’re having this evening, no?”

You’re busted and you look like an idiot trying to get yourself out of it. Beau’s rough hands rest on his hips, staring down at you, waiting for either one of you to break the silence.

After a moment, he asks, “Ain’t your daddy tell ‘ya you have to be home durin’ a time like this, sweetheart?” His voice sounds much different than when you last saw each other in the fall. There’s a touch of gray in his beard, his furrowed brows grew more wrinkles. He licked his lips waiting for you to answer.

“I was just on my way home,” You defy, trying to pick up your bag before Beau beats you to it.

He scoops it from the ground and holds it high above your head. “Ain’t anyone tell you smokin’s a dirty habit?” One hand reaches in and pulls out your Marlboros.

You rub the dirt off your knees before snatching your purse back before he can rummage through anything else.

“Pot, meet kettle,” you mutter loud enough to earn a chuckle from Beau. You go grab your bike to make your way back home before he stops you.

“You’re not ridin’ it.”

“What?” You turn back to him.

“The bike,” he says, walking towards you. “Your daddy won’t forgive me if I’d let ‘ya ride that thing home.” Beau meets your gaze, arms crossed around his chest. “I’ll put it in the bed, c’mon.”

The cigarette wasn’t laced, you just couldn’t figure out if his words were intentional or not.

The drive home in his truck was the same as every other time he’d driven you home. Sometimes he’d get calls from work and you’d stare out the window, other times he’d let you pick out which CDs to play, and on rare occasions it was awkward silence. It felt like being a teenager again; being picked up, drunk, at a party by your dad – except this time it was Beau giving you the disappointing silence.

“‘Yer gonna get hurt,” he starts, giving you subtle glances. “Goin’ out late on your own like that, ‘yer dad and I just want you to be safe.”

You roll your eyes and slump back into the seat. The radio’s playing some old Van Halen song Beau would usually hum along to, instead of this.

Last September he had a woman wrapped around his finger, but according to the town gossip it didn’t last long – not that it was any of your business. You just felt kind of awkward when hugging him goodbye, it didn’t feel like any ordinary hug.

“Come back real soon, Sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ll miss you too much.” When you pulled away from the hug you could only give a smile, before taking the bus upstate to go back to school.

But you didn’t come back, not really. During Thanksgiving break most of the roads were flooded from a nasty storm, as for Christmas break you fell ill with the flu. You simply couldn’t find an excuse to not come home for spring break, knowing Beau would be at your house with open arms.

This wasn’t exactly how you wanted to face him after the last time you saw him.

What did he mean by that? “I’ll miss you too much.” Dad didn’t even tell you he’d miss you, then again, you spoke on the phone almost everyday. Beau was… Beau. Sheriff Arlon.

One hand was gripped, steadying the wheel with his other hand palming his thigh. He had a scar on his right hand, his veins pumped with blood. Beau caught your eyes on his palming hand and smiled to himself.

He was attractive, both of you knew that. Olive fair skin, his body aged like a fine moscato. Most men in their forties had let themselves go, but Beau was up before the sun, running through the town, glistening from sweat, probably–

“We’re here, darlin.’”

You look out of the passenger window and see the porch light on, the fog still taking over the visibility.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Thank you.” You look back over to Beau, who quickly glances at his steering wheel.

After putting your bike in the garage, you walk him back to his truck in the quiet night, footsteps in the gravel giving percussion.

“‘Yer gonna need to be safer, sweetheart,” he tells you in a warm tone. “I don’t wanna see my favorite girl in any sort of trouble.”

“Your girl?” You glance up.

Beau clears his throat. “Me and ‘yer dad’s favorite girl.” His hands went back to his hips, his boots scuffed the pebbles. “I’ll always come to the rescue when it comes to you.”

He left you with that, before ruffing your damp hair up and stepping back into his truck. He drove off into the dark fog, continuing to make eye contact with you until leaving your street.

He would’ve been the greatest risk you’d ever take, yet the reward would be the sweetest drops of nectar.

A/N: