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mediocre-shark-tales · 2 days ago

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Las Vegas GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- described SA, negative thoughts, and emotional themes in this chapter!!!!.

The brief nap in my driver’s room hadn’t been nearly long enough, but the sudden sound of my radio crackled to life, pulling me from the edge of a light sleep. "Y/N, you’ve got about 30 minutes to be ready, just a heads-up," Landon’s voice came through, his tone as routine as ever. It was a reminder I’d grown accustomed to over the years. Like clockwork, his words were the perfect alarm, shaking off the remnants of my exhaustion.

I rubbed my face and sighed, already feeling the weight of the day settle back into place. I’d been doing this long enough to know how to get into the zone, no matter how badly I wanted to just disappear from it all. The car, the track, the noise—it was all there waiting, and I had to show up.

As I walked into the garage, I took a deep breath. I was lucky this time—no sign of Henry. Just the usual buzz of the crew making adjustments, testing things, and prepping for the session. I quickly got into my gear, the familiar motions grounding me as I pulled on my balaclava and secured my radio. My hands worked efficiently, almost mechanically as I slipped the helmet on, shutting out the outside world and slipping into my routine. These few moments—just me and the car—were the only times I could fully collect myself.

Even though I could feel the usual buzz of nerves beneath my skin, there was a small spark of fear that lingered, too. The memory of the crash, even now, was like an echo. It didn’t matter how many laps I completed—it would always come back when I sat in the car, the sensation of spinning, the weightlessness, the uncertainty of it all. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I wouldn’t.

Before I knew it, I was on the track for Q1. My focus sharpened as the lights went out, and I pushed myself to hit every corner with precision, all the while keeping the car balanced despite the lingering worry. The team’s encouragement over the radio helped keep me grounded, and I made it through to Q2 with ease, the first hurdle cleared.

Q2 was a different story. The pressure mounted, and as always, the track began to feel more unforgiving. I pushed too hard in a few places, but I managed to find my rhythm just in time to secure a spot in Q3. It felt like a small victory in itself, and my confidence grew as I moved on.

When Q3 came around, everything clicked into place. I found my groove, the rhythm of the car syncing with the beat of my focus. The lap felt smooth, controlled, and when I crossed the line, I could hear the cheers erupting from my team. I had done it—I’d taken pole position.

The realization hit me just as I rolled back into the garage, my pulse quickening with the excitement of the moment. My team surrounded me, clapping me on the back and celebrating with cheers and high-fives. I allowed myself a brief smile, feeling the weight of the tension ease off, but I knew the real challenge was still ahead. The race was yet to come.

But for now, I allowed myself to enjoy the victory—at least for a moment. I was on pole, and the fans were cheering, and that felt like a much-needed reminder that, despite everything, I was still capable of greatness.

I pulled my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door of my driver’s room, hoping to get out of the paddock before things got any more complicated. The adrenaline from qualifying still lingered, but I was more focused on the fact that I needed to step away from the chaos. The last thing I wanted right now was another run-in with Henry.

But as soon as I stepped outside the motorhome, I felt a familiar weight press in on me. Henry.

He stood just outside the doors, leaning against the wall, looking far too comfortable in his stance. As soon as he saw me, he straightened up with a grin that made my stomach turn.

"Y/N," he greeted me, his voice thick and unnervingly cheerful. "That was an impressive performance today. Really impressive."

I forced myself to nod, keeping my expression neutral as I tried to make my way past him. "Thanks, Henry. I’ve got a few things to take care of, so if you could just—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"Just a moment," he slurred slightly, the scent of alcohol on his breath almost overpowering. I grimaced inwardly, recognizing the signs. He was tipsy—maybe drunk—and his usual uncomfortably forward behavior seemed even worse now.

I yanked my arm back, keeping my voice steady despite the dread that bloomed in my chest. "Henry, I really don’t have time for this right now." I took a small step back, hoping to put some distance between us.

But he didn’t let me.

He took a stumbling step closer, this time placing his hand on my waist. His fingers brushed too close to my ribs, and I felt the sting of panic rise in my chest. I tensed, trying to push his hand away gently. "Henry, please. I’m just trying to leave."

His smirk never faltered, even as I stepped back again. He was getting too close, his body language predatory. "Come on, Y/N, just a little fun, right?" His tone was low, almost coaxing, but there was a sinister edge to it.

I was almost panicking, but I kept my voice as professional as I could muster. "This is completely inappropriate. I need to go." I stepped backward again, but he just followed, his steps unsteady.

The last thing I needed was for anyone to notice this. A confrontation with Henry would be a PR disaster, especially after such a strong qualifying performance. I tried to hold it together, tried to stay calm, but his presence was suffocating.

"Henry, stop," I said firmly, taking another step back. I could feel my heart pounding, but I didn’t want him to see that he was scaring me. I was determined to keep control of the situation.

He laughed, but there was nothing lighthearted about it. "You’re no fun, Y/N." His hand lingered on my arm again, his grip tightening.

I pushed him away, finally managing to break free from his grasp. "I need to go." My voice was sharp now, and I could feel the cold sweat starting to gather.

As I hurried away, my thoughts were scrambled, but I didn’t get very far before I heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N, everything alright?"

I spun around, startled, and saw George approaching, his usual relaxed smile on his face. But his eyes quickly shifted to Henry, a smug look plastered on his face even with the slight stumble in his step. George’s gaze hardened, and I felt a momentary surge of relief. “Of course she is, I was just trying to convince her to join the team tonight for dinner.” Henry slurred.

"She’s actually all booked up for tonight," George said smoothly, stepping in front of me as if he was suddenly in full protective mode. "Got dinner plans with me and a few other drivers. Nice place just down the road, so she’s got no time for anything else."

Henry seemed to hesitate for a moment, likely processing the fact that George was clearly taking the lead now. He shot me a last, lingering irritated look, but after a few moments, he reluctantly stepped back.

"Alright then," Henry muttered, waving a dismissive hand as he walked off. "Have a good night."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, grateful for George's quick thinking. "Thanks," I said, my voice shaky but sincere. "I owe you one."

George gave me a light shrug, not even a hint of hesitation in his smile. "Anytime. And seriously, if you need another savior with a good excuse, shoot me a text, and I'll come running."

I chuckled softly, feeling a little lighter. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As we walked together toward the parking lot, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen slightly, knowing I had someone watching out for me, someone who didn’t pry and ask questions but just had my back like this.

I staggered into the hotel room, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The ache from the crash had only intensified, the bruises spreading across my ribcage in ugly, darkening patches. I sighed as I stripped out of my clothes, wincing at the soreness in every movement. My arms and legs were covered in smaller bruises too, scattered like an art piece made of pain.

I stood in front of the mirror for a moment, taking in the damage, my reflection a stark reminder of the crash. I couldn’t help but feel a small wave of frustration—this wasn’t just physical. It was the emotional toll, too, the constant fear and the weight of it all that felt just as heavy.

After a long pause, I finally grabbed the melatonin bottle from the nightstand. I knew I needed sleep, desperately, but my mind had been running a marathon. I wasn’t sure if the pills would help at this point, but it was worth a shot. I popped a couple in my mouth and sat back on the bed, sinking into the soft sheets.

As the medication slowly kicked in, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my body. The exhaustion from the crash and the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally started to take over. My mind started to drift, and despite the discomfort, I let sleep pull me under, hoping for a few hours of peace.

Sitting in the car on the grid, the roar of the engine humming beneath me, I could feel the weight of the moment. The sun was beating down on me, but all I could focus on was the track ahead, the challenge ahead. This was another 'home' race for me, and I was determined to prove myself once again. I had to—this was my shot at securing a contract for next season. I couldn’t afford to let anything slip. I was ready to show everyone what I was capable of.

The lights went out, and my heart raced. I shot off the line, keeping my position for the first few laps. I held my ground, resisting the pressure from behind, until it was time for the pit stop. I made my way into the pits early, knowing it could be a gamble, but one I was willing to take. I didn’t lose too much time, but when I re-entered the track, I had dropped positions.

I didn’t panic. I pushed forward, finding my rhythm lap after lap, battling through the pack. The car felt great as I sliced through the traffic, my focus narrowing in on each car ahead. Eventually, I found myself locked in a battle with Lewis, who was holding P2. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined. I found a small gap, a tiny window of opportunity, and I took it. With a sharp move, I passed him, and I was in P2.

But George was up ahead, and he wasn’t going to make it easy. We exchanged positions a few times over the course of the next laps, both pushing our limits, both hungry for that top spot. I could feel the strain, but I didn’t back down. Each time he edged ahead, I fought back. With the final lap approaching, I knew this was my last chance.

On the last straight, the adrenaline surged, and I found that final burst of speed. I passed him. I didn’t let up. The finish line came into view, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I held my ground, crossing it just a few tenths ahead of George.

The radio crackled to life. Landon’s voice was full of excitement, the usual professionalism in his tone replaced by a genuine thrill. “You did it! You really did it! P1!”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a mixture of relief and triumph flooding my chest. I had done it. Another victory. Another race where I proved my skill. Wow. It felt so relieving to continue to prove my worth here again.

The post-race routine felt like a blur, but as I made my way to the podium, the overwhelming sense of accomplishment started to hit me. The cheers from the crowd, the familiar faces of the team, and the weight of the trophy in my hands—it all felt so surreal.

Lewis had his hand outstretched, helping me step up to the top spot. I offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, mate,” I said, trying to ignore the lingering ache in my body. My ribs, my arms, the soreness was still there, but I wasn’t going to let it show. Not now. Not on the podium.

As I stood there, my smile widening, the cheers from the crowd growing louder, the pain in my side made itself known. Raising the trophy, I grimaced for a second, the sharp sting reminding me of everything I had been through to get here. But I pushed through it. I couldn’t let anyone see me falter—not now, not when I had earned this moment. The crowd cheered even louder, and I forced myself to keep the smile plastered on my face as I held the trophy high, despite the discomfort.

Then, the familiar sound of my national anthem filled the air, and for a moment, I let myself just enjoy the sweet feeling of victory. It was just me, the podium, and the sound of my anthem echoing around the track. It was everything I had dreamed of.

But as soon as the anthem ended, the real fun began. I popped the champagne, the cork flying into the air, my focus now fully on spraying it at my team. They had worked so hard to get this car back in shape, and they deserved the celebration. The moment was perfect—until the Mercedes drivers, in their usual cheeky style, immediately aimed their own bottles of champagne at me.

I barely had time to react before they blasted me with champagne, the cold liquid soaking me through, temporarily blinding me. I laughed despite myself, the spray catching me off guard, but I quickly recovered and turned my own bottle toward them, retaliating with a spray of my own. The cheers and laughter from the crowd only amplified the moment, and for a second, I forgot about the pain, the struggles, and everything else.

It was just me, my team, and the victory that tasted all the sweeter with a little champagne in my hair.

Of course, that could never truly last long for me…

As I was in the middle of changing, the last thing I expected was the door to burst open with Henry stumbling through. The smell of alcohol hit me almost immediately, and I instinctively pulled my shirt down, trying to cover myself as quickly as possible. His eyes lingered a moment too long, and his slurred words fell from his lips with a sickening smirk.

"Come on, you know you can't escape me forever. You’ve been so... good to me, haven’t you?" he slurred, his steps uneven as he took a step closer.

I immediately reached for my phone, my heart racing, hoping to hide it. I wasn’t foolish enough to trust Henry, but I had the camera running in the back of my mind. My hand brushed the corner of the desk, knocking it slightly, but the lens was already facing the interaction. It wouldn’t be enough for him to know, but I was painfully aware of every second of the moment.

"Stop. This isn’t funny, Henry," I said, trying to remain as calm as possible. My hands were shaking, but I refused to show him any weakness. "Please, leave."

But he didn’t move. He took another step forward, and I felt the room constrict around me. His voice dropped lower, his proximity too much. "You know, it’s just a matter of time before you’ll stop resisting," he said, eyes gleaming with that sickening confidence.

I took a deep breath, my mind screaming at me to stay in control. I couldn’t afford for this to escalate any further. I reached for the door behind me, knowing I had to get away from him before it turned worse. “I’ll make sure this gets reported,” I said, my voice low but firm.

It was then that he hesitated, but his smirk only deepened as he brushed off my words. "Report it all you want, darling. It’ll just be your word against mine. No one will believe you," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

My stomach churned at the thought, but I couldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him see me falter. I straightened my back, pushing all the anger and fear deep down, refusing to let him get to me. I had to get away from him.

“Get out of my way, Henry,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice steady as I moved past him, aiming for the door.

But before I could get far, he reached out, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. His grip was tight, too tight, and my heart skipped a beat. The panic threatened to rise up again, but I forced it down, clenching my jaw.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and almost predatory as he leaned in closer. “You really think you can just run away from this? No one cares about your little stories.”

I pulled my wrist hard, trying to break free, but he held on, his fingers digging in. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me as I realized I was trapped.

“Let go,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my breath hitching as I fought to stay calm. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me closer, forcing me into the corner of the room.

I froze for a moment, the fight draining out of me as I realized I had nowhere to go. My mind raced, looking for an escape. My pulse thudded in my ears, my body fighting the panic, trying to keep it all together.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, voice laced with an unsettling calmness.

I had to think. I had to get out of this. But as he stepped closer, the knot in my stomach grew tighter, and I knew that the situation was slipping further out of my control.

"Come on, sweetheart," he slurred, his breath reeking. "Time to celebrate properly."

My heart raced, I could only hope my camera was still capturing us. "Henry, you need to leave now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He was now pinning me against the wall by the waist. My stomach churned as his hands roamed, rough and demanding. I struggled, pushing against his chest, but he was so much stronger.

"Stop!" I yelled, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. "Help!"

His hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries. Panic surged through me, my body trembling with the primal need to escape. I thrashed wildly, my elbow connecting with his ribs, but it only seemed to anger him further.

The slap came out of nowhere, a sharp crack that sent my head spinning. For a moment, everything went quiet. I sagged in his grip, my cheek burning, mind reeling in disbelief. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

Henry's weight pressed against me, his hips grinding as he mumbled vulgar promises. I felt numb, disconnected, as if watching this nightmare unfold from outside my own body. The gleaming Aston Martin logo on his shirt swam in my vision, a cruel reminder of how far I'd come, only to end up here.

But then, a flicker of hope. Henry stepped back, fumbling with his belt buckle. In that instant, survival instinct kicked in like a surge of adrenaline on the final lap.

I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had left. Caught off-guard and unsteady, Henry toppled backwards, crashing into a table of warm up gear. I snatched my bag, my fingers closing around the camera, and bolted for the door.

The hallway stretched before me like the longest straightaway I'd ever faced. Tears blurred my vision as I ran, my racing suit a blur of green and silver. Behind me, I could hear Henry's angry shouts, but they faded with each pounding step.

I didn't stop running until I hit what felt like a brick wall after rounding a corner. I stumbled back slightly only to stiffen up again when two hands grabbed my biceps to hold me steady. Before I could react and push these hands away from me, I saw Oscar's worried face fill my vision. He slowly scanned my frame, most likely seeing how disheveled and frightened I was. It wouldn’t take a genius to know what I had just gone through.

Oscar's jacket wrapped around me before I even knew what was happening, his jacket covering me like a shield from prying eyes. I was still trembling, my heart racing as I registered the events that had just occurred. I couldn't even look him in the eyes; I felt completely exposed, broken, and desperate to get away from everything.

"Y/n," he murmured softly, his voice low and gentle, "we need to get you out of here. Stay close to me, alright? Don't let anyone see you."

I nodded, trying to steady my breath, feeling the warmth of his jacket press against me, grounding me, even if only slightly. Oscar led me through the back hallways, ducking and weaving between corners, until we finally reached the McLaren motorhome. He opened the door to the driver’s room with a quick glance to make sure no one was around, and once inside, he closed it behind him.

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze not meeting mine as he set my things down and walked over to his phone. He didn’t ask me what happened—I think he knew I wasn’t ready to say it aloud yet.

When he returned, he knelt in front of me, his face filled with concern. "I’ll text the others," he said, "You just rest for now. I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

I was still trying to gather myself, to calm the storm that was roaring inside me, but I felt a small flicker of relief. Oscar was here. He was helping, keeping me safe, and giving me space. I needed this—someone who wouldn’t push, someone who just understood without the need for words.

As he began typing a message to the others, I let out a shaky breath, trying to hold myself together long enough to make it through this moment.

The silence between us stretched on as Oscar typed away at his phone, probably texting the others in the group chat, but I couldn’t focus on that. Every breath felt like it was getting harder, the weight of everything pressing down on me until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I broke.

The tears came first—hot and overwhelming, rushing down my face as I tried to stifle the sobs that wracked my body. My hands shook as I pulled them up to cover my face, but it did nothing to stop the storm. It felt like everything I had been holding in for weeks, months even, all came pouring out in one uncontrollable wave. The fear, the anxiety, the pain, the dread—it was all spilling over, and I couldn’t stop it.

Oscar was there in an instant, his arms around me, pulling me close. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fix me, just let me crumble against him, as if he understood that this was something I needed to feel before I could move forward. I buried my face in his chest, the fabric of his jacket dampening with my tears. His steady breathing, his soft murmurs of reassurance—“It’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you”—grounded me slightly, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

I don’t know how much time passed before I started to calm down, but the tight knot in my chest was still there. My tears were slowing, but the ache in my body was still raw. Oscar was still holding me, gently running his hand through my hair, whispering words of comfort that barely registered, but they were enough.

Then, slowly, I started to hear voices—footsteps, first, then murmurs of concern and urgency. One by one, the other drivers started arriving, slipping quietly into the room. Lando was the first to reach us, his face serious, but he didn’t say anything at first—just wrapped me in a hug and whispered, “We’re here, Y/n. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Charles was next, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and anger, his usually calm demeanor replaced with something darker. “If anyone messes with you again,” he muttered, “they’ll have to answer to me.”

Carlos and George followed shortly after, their expressions equally grim, but their presence was comforting, steadying. They didn’t need to say anything, they just sat with me, giving me the space I needed to process.

But as comforting as their presence was, the feeling of helplessness didn’t fade. I felt exposed, like I was drowning in everything that had happened, everything I had kept bottled up. How was I going to fix this? How could I go back to my team, knowing what had been happening behind the scenes? How could I trust anyone again?

And then there was the other part—the part of me that wanted to fight back, to stand up for myself, but every time I thought about it, I was overwhelmed with fear. Henry had made it clear that no one would believe me. The thought of dragging the team into this, the media storm that would follow—it was too much.

Oscar, sensing my turmoil, pulled back slightly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “We’ll handle this,” he said firmly, his voice quiet but resolute. “We won’t let him get away with it. We’re all behind you.”

It was then that the door to the driver’s room opened, and a new set of voices filled the space. Fernando and Max walked in, both of them with a fire in their eyes.

“We’re heading straight to Aston Martin hospitality,” Fernando declared, his tone brokering no argument. “They need to know what’s been going on. This has gone on long enough.”

Max nodded in agreement, his jaw clenched tightly. “We’re not leaving until they understand this needs to be dealt with. No one should be treated like this—especially not you.”

I felt a mix of gratitude and dread wash over me. It was comforting to know that they were willing to go to bat for me, but at the same time, the thought of confronting my team, especially with Henry involved, filled me with anxiety.

Oscar looked at me, his expression softening. “Do you want us to do this?” he asked, giving me the option to speak up. “We can do it without you, if you need some time.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please. I can’t—” I broke off, not able to finish the sentence. “Just…” My hands were trembling as I reached into my bag, pulling out the small camera I’d kept hidden away.

The moment I held it in my hands, my mind immediately flashed to all the times I had secretly recorded Henry’s behavior. His advances, his inappropriate comments, his threats. It was the only way I knew I could protect myself, but even now, the thought of exposing it all made me feel like I was about to collapse under the pressure.

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to confront this, to bring everything to light. But I knew that I had no choice. If I was ever going to get out from under this, I had to show them the truth. So, with a deep breath, I took the SD card from the camera and handed it to Fernando.

“This,” I started, my voice shaky but firm, “is everything. The recordings, the videos...everything he’s done to me since sometime before the Mexican GP.”

Fernando’s eyes flicked between the SD card and me, his expression unreadable for a moment. He didn’t need to ask any questions—he understood immediately what it was. Without a word, he carefully took the card, and I could see the resolve in his eyes harden.

“Thank you for trusting us with this,” he said softly. “We’ll make sure it’s handled properly. You won’t be seeing that rat again.”

The rest of the drivers were silent, their gazes all focused on the small piece of evidence I had given them. For a moment, I felt exposed, but also relieved. The truth was finally out there. They had it. They would know what had been happening, and they would help me make sure it stopped.

Fernando stood up, holding the SD card firmly in his hand. He gave me one last reassuring look before turning to the others.

“Let’s go,” he said. “It’s time to end this.”

Fernando and Max didn’t waste any time, their faces determined as they marched out of the room and made their way to the Aston Martin hospitality. The rest of the drivers stayed with me, their presence an anchor I desperately needed, but part of me couldn’t shake the anxiety that was building up inside me.

The confrontation was coming. I just hoped I was strong enough to face it.

As the weight of the moment started to settle, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief, but also exhaustion. It had been a long, hard road, and now that everything was out in the open, the true weight of it all was beginning to hit me.

Oscar and the others hadn’t left me to sit in silence for long. They gathered around me, their faces soft with sympathy and determination.

“You’ve been carrying this by yourself for far too long,” Lewis said, his voice low but firm. “You shouldn’t have had to fight alone, Y/N. We’re your family, your grid family. We’ve got your back, every single step of the way.”

Lando nodded in agreement. “None of us should have to go through what you’ve been through. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore. We’re here for you.”

I blinked back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall. I didn’t want to break down again, not when I had come so far, but hearing their words, the honesty and love in their voices—it was almost too much to bear.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a rasp. “I—I didn’t want to drag anyone into it. I just didn’t know how to ask for help without risking Henry finding out.”

“You don’t have to ask, Y/N,” George said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “We love you. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. It’s our turn to help you now.”

There was a brief pause, and then Carlos, always the one to lighten the mood, gave me a smirk. “We’re all ready to destroy Henry for what he’s done... trust me, we’ve got some very creative ideas on how we’d love to pay him back.”

“I’d love to knock his teeth out, if I’m being honest,” Lewis added with a grin, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.

“Not gonna lie, the thought of seeing him suffer is pretty appealing right now,” Lando chimed in, his tone playful but also tinged with genuine anger at what had happened.

The lighthearted teasing was exactly what I needed. It helped push back the dark cloud of panic and uncertainty, if only for a moment. But just as I was starting to feel like I could breathe again, the door opened.

Liam stepped in first, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. His expression was full of anger, there was an unmistakable fire in his gaze.

“So, who’s this bastard?” he asked, his fists already clenched at his sides, ready to go.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. “I—don’t know his full name, but... I only know him as Henry.”

Liam’s jaw tightened as he stepped forward, his gaze never leaving me. “I swear to God, if he’s hurt you, Y/N, I’m going to make sure he regrets it.”

Before I could respond, Franco walked in, his calm demeanor providing a stark contrast to Liam’s intensity. His eyes softened when he saw me, and he immediately crossed the room, sitting next to me. His presence, steady and reassuring, made me feel a little safer, a little more grounded.

“Hey,” Franco said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart still ached. Franco gave me a small smile, then turned to the others. “We need to get Y/N out of here and back to the hotel. She’s been through enough today.”

Liam hesitated for a moment, the fire in his eyes slowly dimming as he saw my exhausted expression. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. We’ll deal with Henry later. Right now, she needs to rest.”

Franco stood up and gently helped me to my feet, his arm around my shoulders in a comforting hold.

“We’ll take care of everything, Y/N. You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he said softly. “You’ve done enough. Now it’s time for us to take care of you.”

As we made our way to the door, I looked around at all the faces of my teammates and friends—drivers who had become my family in a way I never thought possible.

I had been so afraid of facing this on my own, so terrified of how it would all play out. But now, with them all here, I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually felt like I could breathe.

When we arrived back at the hotel, the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened today started to crash over me again. I felt like I was walking in a haze, numb and sore, and the room seemed to close in around me. The only thing that kept me grounded was knowing Franco and Liam were with me, even if they had their own way of handling things.

Looking nervously at them, I pulled out as much confidence as I could. “Would you two stay over with me tonight?” They both nodded, franco with a small adorning smile while Liam smirked.

"I’ll be back in a bit," Franco said gently, looking at me with concern as he motioned towards his room. "I’m just going to grab a few things—some comfy clothes, you know, the sleepover essentials. I won’t be long."

Liam shot me a soft grin, his arms crossed casually as he leaned against the doorframe. "And of course I’ll be back, even if you hadn’t asked. No way I’m letting you sleep alone after all that’s happened. I’m sticking by you."

I gave him a tired smile. "Thanks, Liam. I—I really appreciate it."

With a nod, Franco disappeared, and I was left alone to gather my thoughts. The silence in the room felt suffocating. I could already feel the dull ache of everything that had happened creeping back, twisting in my chest, and settling into the pit of my stomach.

I couldn’t help but replay the events in my mind—the panic, the feeling of being trapped, the helplessness. I stepped into the bathroom, determined to wash away the residue of the day. The shower was my only sanctuary now. The hot water, the steam, it all blurred everything else out. I scrubbed at my skin with a fierceness that bordered on desperation, as if I could erase Henry's touch, erase the pain that had etched itself into my body and mind.

My skin turned raw from the scrubbing, the pinkness standing out starkly against the dark bruises that had settled on my ribs and limbs. But in a twisted way, it almost helped. It distracted me from the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. As if hurting myself physically could somehow numb the emotional pain.

Eventually, I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a soft towel, and began to change. The feeling of the fresh clothes against my skin didn’t help; I still felt the remnants of everything that had happened. But I took a deep breath, forcing my mind to focus on the present. Focus on the here and now.

When I opened the door, I saw Franco and Liam standing there with small bags of their own. Franco was holding a few snacks, and Liam had a box of takeout food.

"You good?" Liam asked gently, his voice softer, the angry edge finally gone.

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel good. "Yeah, just... needed a moment."

Franco placed the bags on the bed and gave me a reassuring smile. "I grabbed some things to help you feel comfortable. We'll just hang out here tonight. No rush, no pressure."

They noticed the raw pinkness of my skin, the lingering marks from the shower, but neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. It was enough that they were here.

Liam opened the takeout box and placed it in front of me, his usual lighthearted demeanor back in full force. "We’re doing this right. Sleepover style. Junk food, bad TV, and no talking about anything that happened today. Just good vibes."

I couldn’t help but smile faintly. "You really know how to cheer someone up."

Franco sat down next to me on the bed, grabbing a pillow and fluffing it before tossing it behind him. "We’re just here to make sure you get some rest. You’ve had enough of a day, Y/N. So let’s just take it easy."

And for the first time in hours, I let myself relax. I ate, laughing with them over trivial things, and slowly, the weight of the day began to lift, just a little. Eventually, as the night wore on, I could feel the exhaustion start to settle into my bones, the emotional turmoil starting to quiet.

Liam, ever the charmer, pulled the blanket up over me once I finally laid down. "Get some sleep, okay? We’ve got you. And you don’t need to face any of this alone."

I didn’t have the energy to argue, or even to thank him properly. But I gave him a small, tired smile before I closed my eyes. The presence of Franco and Liam, the warmth of their care, felt like the last piece of comfort I needed to finally allow myself to sleep.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, I could rest. I wasn’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #franco colapinto #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #george russell #grill the grid #f1 grid x reader

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thanosscross · 2 days ago

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All for show 3/? - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x American! Pop-Star! Reader

Summary: After being caught by your manager, Christopher, for leaving the country, you're left with a big decision to make, stay in Korea, and risk everybody's jobs, or go back to America and kiss your new dream life goodbye.

Warnings: Some Angst for your lovelies!

Staying with Seung Hyun was like a dream for you, there wasn't underlying stress, no pressure of being perfect, just having fun with your boyfriend. You were taking small steps, both of you wanting to make sure, that what was going on between you, lasted, but both of you were enjoying every moment together.

It’d only be six days though, before Christopher would be blowing your phone up with different lectures and threats. Of course, it’d also be whenever Seung Hyun would be out recording with the boys, and you weren’t about to bother him with this while he was working. So you sat in his bedroom, your back against the bed frame as you stared at your phone screen, watching as new texts came in every few seconds.

‘Y/n. If it’s true you left the country I swear’

‘You’re seriously in South Korea right now?’

‘Do you know how unprofessional it is to just take off like that? What if you had something scheduled?’

‘You’re ruining your own career being a selfish brat.’

‘And if you don’t ruin it, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing I do because you don’t deserve any of this.’

‘I knew I never should’ve wasted my time on some sorry warm body’

‘I swear I will come to Korea myself just to knock some sense into your stupid fucking head’

As more texts flooded in, you started to grow scared, the more you didn’t reply, the angrier that Chris got. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, he had never acted like this before, but it was making you terrified to return back to your country. You watched as your phone went off with calls from Christopher before a single text came through from your assistant

‘Christopher just fired everybody, what the hell is going on? Are you okay?’

You tried to hold back your tears, calling her quickly, you never wanted any of this to happen, you never thought it would ever come to this point “y/n? Honey? What’s going on?” Your assistant, Casey, asked softly, you could hear Christopher’s muffled shouts in the background “He found out I left the country, C-Cas, he’s like..for real threatening me, I don’t know if I should come back” you whimpered, trying to calm your nerves as you heard your friend huff “don’t let him scare you. He’s nothing but some small dick, wannabe pop star, short ass, dumb, narcissistic, piece of shit of a man” she listed off, smiling whenever she heard you giggle softly over the phone. “Where’s your man, huh? I’d think you’d be all over him before you had to come back home” she added on, trying her best to change the subject, you sighed a bit, trying your best to tune out the muffled threats of your manager being shouted in the background “he’s recording for a new song..he should be home in awhile” you whispered before flinching slightly whenever you heard the door open over the phone, and Christopher’s shouts become much louder “are you on the phone with her?!” He shouted before you heard Casey’s shouting loudly, telling him to fuck off before calling out that she’d call you back in a little bit.

Leaving you alone in the home, your phone was still blowing up, this time worse than before, the fact you were talking to Casey and not him just fueled his anger even more. “Aein! I’m home!” Seung Hyun called softly as he closed the front door behind him, trying to track you down somewhere in the home.

Whenever he finally managed to find you, his heart would break slightly “y/n?..what are you doing?..” he asked softly, watching as you tried your best to shove your clothes into your suitcase “I-i can’t stay here, C-Chris found out I left t-the country, and if I don’t show back up there by nine tonight their time, everybody is going to lose their jobs” you whispered, dropping your arms in defeat, you should’ve known this was going to happen. With your luck, you should’ve known this wouldn’t work, Christopher wouldn’t let it, not without him having every bit of control over it. Seung Hyun rushed over, grabbing your hands gently “Aein..my love” he replied, pulling you into a tight hug as you just leaned into his touch, not wanting to leave, but you never meant to cause any damage by coming here. "Do You want to leave?" He asked softly, holding you close as he swayed with you slightly, you just shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms around him as you sighed "No, I don't.." You stopped yourself from explaining further, he had enough to stress about, he didn't need to stress additionally about your stuff. Seung Hyun sighed, he wasn't sure what to say, until it finally dawned on him "Aren't you his biggest star? Why not just employ your own staff, and then sign on to a different company? With how big you are overseas, I'm sure it could work" He explained, slowly leading you to sit down on the bed with him, You just shrugged nervously, trying to hold back any new tears, this was really hard to deal with.

"What if nobody wants me?.." You whispered, looking at your shoes, trying your best not meet his gaze, knowing you'd immediately break down if you did. "My love, now that's just silly, I'm sure you could even find an agency here to sign with" He protested, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you close, you just stayed quiet, you wanted to tell Seung Hyun everything involved in the situation, but you didn't want him worried, or him feel like he was obligated to help you. "I-I don't know..- If I go back..-" You stopped yourself, growing frustrated at the fact you weren't finding the words you needed to, Seung Hyun just watching you intently, wanting to help you in any way that he could. "I'm scared to go home, alone" You whispered, staring at the wall, trying to ignore the way your hands shook as you slowly slid your phone to him "Chris is really, Really mad.." You added on, leaning into his hold, as he opened your phone, starting to read through your message. You could tell as his grip on you tightened, and his breathing became unstable, he was getting more towards the threatening messages. "What the fuck? 자신의 협박이 불법이라는 사실을 몰랐나요? 신고하셨나요? 그는 말 그대로 당신을 해치겠다고 협박하고 있어요, 내 사랑 (Didn't you know his threats were illegal? Did you report them? He's literally threatening to hurt you, my love)" He asked quickly, cupping your cheeks gently to pull your attention towards him "I-I don't know what to do" You whimpered, you had been signed under Christopher's company for years, you grew up with him through your late teen years, and early adult years, so the thought of leaving and going where new, also terrified you, just as much as the idea of staying did. "Y/n, You need to leave his management" He whispered, his tone still stern and demanding, trying to tell you that you really had no other choice, he wouldn't let you have another choice. Seung Hyun loved and cared about you way too much to let you deal with your manager any longer, he knew the moment he saw you fighting with him for the first time, that Chris was not a good guy in the slightest. "Where would I go? Where would I sign? Seung Hyun, I love you..but I'm stuck" You ranted, standing back up to start packing again, you needed to get back home before Chris takes things too far and tries to go after Seung Hyun, in retaliation. "My love! You could go anywhere!" He argued, huffing whenever he noticed you weren't going to back down, You had to do this, you had staff members with kids and families to take care of, that couldn't afford to lose their jobs.

Seung Hyun watched for a moment, before ultimately deciding, he was going with you. As he stood up and started packing his own clothes, neatly folding them and laying them flat in his suitcase. "W-What are you doing?" You asked, grabbing his hands gently, stopping him from his task "If you're this set on going back to deal with his stupid ass, then I'm going with you. I'm not going to allow you to do this alone" He explained, turning to face you, you just huffed, between your frustration with Chris, and your anxiety, you couldn't fathom why on earth, Seung Hyun would want to come deal with this bullshit. "Why? You have your own job, your own stressful bullshit here, so why would you want to add on someone else's bullshit?" You asked, dropping your hands to your sides, tilting your head, trying to understand him and his thought process. "Y/n...You're not just someone else, and I'm not adding it on. I love you, Aein, and your bullshit..is my bullshit" He explained, pulling you into a tight hug "Anything you have to go through, my love, I'll always be by your side, that way there's not anything scary, that you ever have to go through alone again" He explained, trying his best to word it properly, you just sighed, dropping your head onto his chest, trying not to cry again, this time by the pure sweetness of Seung Hyun. "Why are you so charming?" You groaned, wrapping your arms around him tightly, looking up to meet his gaze. Seung Hyun just offered you a sympathetic smile as he rubbed your arms gently, motioning to your suitcases laying on the bed "So..Are we going to America?" He asked softly, knowing if so, he'd definitely be scheduling a meeting with your manager.

Whenever you'd land back in L.A, you'd try and hold on to Seung Hyun's hand the entire process of going out to the car you had waiting outside. "Love?...Swear you're not going to start anything?" You whispered, you knew you'd have to have a conversation with Christopher, especially if you were pulling out of your contract with him, and you also knew Seung Hyun wasn't going to let you do it alone, especially with how Chris has been acting towards you. "I can't make promises, my love, I can promise I'll try to wait until you're not present" He whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you approached the car, Christopher standing outside, rolling his eyes at the image of you both walking out. Seung Hyun could feel his blood start to boil as he approached the car and your manager, his body felt tense, and he could feel his stomach start to do flips from how much anger ran through his body. "So nice of you to actually show up and do your fucking job" Christopher spat, watching as you silently got in the car, keeping your eyes trained on your boyfriend as he stared Chris down before he climbed in next to you.

The ride to your managers office was silent, the air in the car was filled with tension so thick, you could barely breathe. Your eyes were glued to the floorboard as your brain went over every possibility that could happen, once you arrived at the office space. "I don't see why we can't have the conversation now?" Seung Hyun spoke lowly, not taking his eyes off of Chris, as you took your hand in his, you took a deep breath. "This isn't a conversation that involves outsiders, it is a business meeting between a pop-star and her manager" Chris replied in a snappy tone, causing your head to shoot up quickly, giving him a glare, his comment being all you needed for that final boost of confidence to quit. "It's not a conversation at all, Christopher. I'm terminating our contract, I've spent my ten years with you, and I thank you for all you've done for me, but I don't want to be working for someone like you" You explained, trying to keep a professional tone, but it ended up just being laced in disgust, Chris scoffed, laughing loudly "Seriously? You get with a new guy and all of a sudden you're some badass now? Hey, Y/n, question, whenever he leaves you, like he will, what will you do, huh? You'll be nobody, with nothing" He spat, you squeezed Seung Hyun's hand tightly whenever you felt him tense, harshly, silently letting him know you could handle it. Seung Hyun couldn't help it, just like the first time he watched you fight with Christopher, he didn't like seeing someone disrespect you like that, especially with knowing how you felt about yourself.

"No. Christopher, you don't get to make me feel bad anymore, I might've played the part for half my life, but I am so fucking done. You are nobody, Christopher, understand that. You might've helped me get gigs, but that's all you did. You are nothing but the ugly fucking face behind my FORMER management team, I am the one who made myself, I am fucking everything behind my name!" You shouted as the car stopped, letting the three of you out in the parking lot, you couldn't hide your smirk as you spotted the paparazzi rushing over "Come on, let's go handle this inside, Y/n. Don't act like this" Chris growled, going to grab your wrist harshly, Seung Hyun quickly stepping between you two to stop him, instead grabbing Chris's shoulder/collarbone tightly "Put your hands on her, and You'll have a lot more than how she's acting to deal with" Your boyfriend growled back, shoving him back as he let go of his grip on your manager, not breaking eye contact as he stared Chris down, not ever backing down until you rested your hand on his chest, having him step away slightly "Thank you, love" You whispered before turning your attention back to Christopher "I should've fucking listened to everybody years ago, they all told me! Don't fucking sign her! She's got no talent, just a body! I thought I could make something out of that body! But nope! Nothing but a warm body" He seethed, you could feel yourself getting more pissed, but instead of blowing up, you just broke out into laughs "Really? Everybody told you that? Little 'can't pull a bitch' Christopher had so many people saying don't sign?" You laughed holding a hand over your chest "I'd say you're adorable, but the sight of you, physically makes me fucking sick" You spat, walking closer to him huffing "My lawyers will be in contact, in regard to anything else? Call Casey, or any other of MY staff" You added on before turning to walk towards the bus stop, you'd be damned if you took one of the cars driven by his drivers. "Oh! And Christopher?" You called sweetly before turning around "At least my warm body, has more talent in it than you'll ever have in a lifetime" You smiled, waving goodbye to him in a smartass manner before grabbing Seung Hyun's hand as you walked onto the bus.

The moment you sat down, you could feel yourself starting to have a panic attack, all of the adrenaline wearing off, making you realize how stupid it was to do that, and then leave him there to twist the story to paparazzi. "Hey, hey! That was amazing" He whispered, cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look at him "Personally, I would've liked to kick his ass, but, You handled that perfectly, my love" He whispered, pulling you into a hug as you continued to panic, trying your best to shield your face from any other bus riders, or paparazzi trying to get a picture of you through the bus window. "I just ruined my life" You cried, holding onto his jacket tightly "You didn't ruin your life, my love, nothings ruined, but, we did leave all of our luggage in the trunk of that car" He chuckled, watching as you looked at him, trying to keep a straight face before giggling loudly "Oh my god, we totally did" You laughed, hugging him tightly before pulling away, trying to read the map ahead to figure out what stop, you needed to get off at. "Seung Hyun...now what do I do?" You asked quietly, your knee bouncing slightly as you glanced at your hands, where your fingers were inter-laced tightly together "What do you want to do, my love?" he whispered, pressing your knuckles to his lips gently, his question made you really think, what did you want to do?

"I..I think I want to make different music" You whispered after a moment, looking up to meet his eyes, smiling as bit as he looked at you with such love and admiration. "Yea? What kind?" he asked softly, standing up as you made it to your stop, Seung Hyun following close behind you. "I think I want to just..write what I feel, and my real feelings, not the feelings people tell me to have" You explained, walking towards your neighborhood as you swung your and Seung Hyun's hands slightly. "Well, whatever you decide to do, my love?..I'm here for you, every step of the way" He whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist whenever you finally made it to your home. "I appreciate you, I swear, I appreciate you more than anybody" You whispered, cupping his cheeks gently as you smiled "It's really not a problem, my love. I love you so much, and I'm not going to let any person put their hands on you, especially not in front of me" He whispered, pulling you closer by your hips as he smiled softly "He wouldn't of actually grabbed me, I wouldn't of let it get that far" You giggled, caressing his cheek gently, smiling as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead "I want to believe you...I really do, but, you are smaller than Ji" He joked, laughing as you shot him an offended look, giggling along with his laughs "Hey! I could kick anybody's ass" You smiled, standing up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek "Sure you can, my love, either way, I'll always be by your side for every fight" He whispered, moving a hand to cup your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours, you smiled against his lips as you moved your lips against his. You felt so powerful and enthralled with Seung Hyun, he was perfect, in every possible way, and him defending, and protecting you? Just made you even more in love with the man. As you slowly pulled away from Seung Hyun's lips, you never noticed the single hidden paparazzi person, hiding across the street, getting your entire interaction with Seung Hyun.

As you and Seung Hyun winded down from the very eventful day, you laid in your bed together, resting your head on Seung Hyun's chest as his arm was wrapped around you. As you laid there, you huffed loudly, your phone blowing up just like before, this time with a mixture of texts, calls, twitter notifications, instagram, news, all of it. Leaning over Seung Hyun's side, you grabbed your phone giggling as you felt him press his lips to your neck quickly before you laid back down on the bed, feeling your heart drop as you read the first notification on your screen.

'GLOBAL POP-STAR Y/N L/N SEEN SHARING INTIMATE KISS WITH CHOI SEUNG HYUN ALSO KNOWN AS T.O.P FROM K-POP'S BOY GROUP BIGBANG, OUTSIDE OF HER L.A. HOME'

Shit.

First story after the face reveal! I'm so excited!! What do you think lovelies? A lil angsty, but I promise next part with be so much more fluffier!! <333

Taglist!!!

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#squid game thanos #squid game #thanos x reader #top x reader #thanos squid game #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader #squidgame #t.o.p #t.o.p icons #t.o.p bigbang #top #choi seung hyun x reader

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umadxoxo · 3 days ago

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FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.2

You laid on Bakugo’s pillow, one arm pinned under your head while the other played in the blondes’ hair. The man was lying on your chest, in the glow of his preheat. He had invited you to his room after classes, just to allow you to scent everything he needed you to in his nest. Nothing sensual had happened yet, during your research you had learned that all an omega really needs before their heat is the scent and attention of their alpha. Their alpha…were you Bakugo’s alpha? He had never asked, you had never asked for him to be your omega either though. It was unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you would only go to each other for things like this. He had never smelt the lingering scent of another omega on you, and your interaction with omega classmates were limited, always holding yourself three steps away from them.

You enjoyed basking in his scent, it was smoky and woody. Like sitting by a campfire on a snowy night. You could drown yourself in it. Times like these were nice, when Bakugo wasn’t his usually angry self, when he wasn’t yelling at you, or pulling your hair and calling you an idiot. You lived for the few times when he acted like a domesticated cat. It’s almost as if he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. You truly did love him. 17 and in love, how stupid of you. But with him in your arms clutching you like a lifeline, how could you have not fallen in love with him?

You stared at Bakugo dumbfounded, his push away from your embrace wasn’t as successful as he had hoped, your hands still had death grips on his upper arms. His glare remained on you though, unwavering as you slowly pulled in closer to him, looking in his eyes.

“Why the fuck are you in Japan?” He asked, pulling his face away from your curious gaze. Despite the grip you had on him, your hands were still comforting, and safe. Not letting him go. But he needed to leave, he couldn’t deal with this shit right now, there was still a villain on the loose.

“Kat, what are you talking about?” You asked slowly. Your hands left his arms and snaked up his shoulder and face, something you used to do to him all the time when it was just the two of you. He would have never let you show him affection like this in public when you were teenagers. Old habits die hard because the moment your fingers intertwine in the hair he’s pulling himself off the other side of the bed to put some distance between you. Something in your eyes flickers that he’s all too familiar with; disappointment.

You always had that look on your face in high school. When he didn’t scent things for you, or didn’t acknowledge you outside of class, or told you when he didn’t love you. The last one was probably what he was most ashamed of. You loved him, despite how badly he treated you. How little did you think of yourself to let him walk all over you like that?

Years of just hit after hit from him and you always came back when he called. Until you didn’t.

“Did you get tired of dicking around in America? Does anyone even know you’re back? That you’re married?” It figures that he wouldn’t even be on the list of people you’d tell, it’s not like you have given him any life updates since you left. But he would have a least heard about it from Shitty Hair or Pinky, hell even fucking Deku would have had something to say about you returning. He can’t keep secrets for shit. He had told Bakugo a while Hatsume has been trying to recruit you for years to come back and work with her on support gear. All of her efforts had been unsuccessful though, apparently you enjoyed your job in America.

You had your own little life out there. One that he knew nothing about.

Your disappointment turned into a little pout, and you tilted your head in that cute fucking way you always do when you’re thinking. You share a look with the medical staff, who is all still crouched in the corner of the room and watching the two of you. One of the doctors you make eye contact with is finally man enough to stand up and approach Bakugo.

“Mr. (L/N), we think that there may be some trauma do your head after the attack, if you could let us run some neurological assessments and a MRI we can get a better idea of what we are working with.”

“I DIDN’T HIT MY FUCKING HEAD!” He yelled, the doctor was quick to back away from his outburst. You were quick to jump into action, directly all his attention back to you.

“Kat, it’s okay, it’s just routine.” You lied like he wouldn’t know. Like Bakugo hasn’t landed himself in the hospital a dozen times and already knows a routine assessment. You sounded defeated though, like you didn’t want to fight but weren’t going to back down. You would drag him kicking and screaming to the MRI if you had to. “I know you’re upset but Deku got the villain after he knocked you out, okay. Let’s just get all these tests over with and I will take us home.”

The distance Bakugo put between you didn’t seem to detour your calming scent, but you made no move closer to him out of respect. He was mad, and you’ve seen him made enough times to know to give him the space he needs. Bakugo is just staring at you, a mixture of emotions that he wouldn’t appreciate you deciphering in front of all these strangers. Because what the fuck did you mean “take us home”? To your home? To his? And Deku wasn’t even near the fight when it happened, how the hell did he swoop in and save the day? You nod silently the way to the door for the doctors so the two of you can be alone. They take the hint.

You sit down in the hospital bed, watching as Katsuki paces around in his anger. After what feels like forever he looks at you, only you. And you swear you can see a glimmer of water in the corners of his eyes.

In a flash, the omega is back in your arms, face burrowed in your neck as you run your fingers through your hair again. “Why are you here?” He whispered, and the sound of his voice is enough to break your heart and two. Because neither of you had an actual clue what was going on in each other’s heads. You wanted to ask him what he meant, because he saw you this morning before work. He lifts his bed from your shoulder to meet your gaze. Katsuki Bakugo, number one hero, was sitting in your lap on the brink of tears because a low level villain caught him off guard? No, no something else was going on. You could tell, he was confused and scared and angry all at once. You cup his face and pull him close.

“My Husband is in the hospital.” you laughed, “Where else in the world would I be?” You gave him a small kiss on the lips, pulling away all too soon. Bakugo’s hands find your wrists and put them in a death grip, preventing you from moving away. The kiss he gives you is more passionate, like he thinks it is the last one he will be able to give you in a while. You make a surprised noise until you melt into it. He’s rubbing his scent all over you as if you weren’t already drenched in it.

Him? Your husband?

A/N: That’s so lame of me not to update in months and I want you all to know I’m as disappointed in myself as you are.

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x male reader #male reader #mha x male reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x male reader #bnha x male reader #omega bakugou x alpha reader #omega bakugou katsuki #omegaverse #alpha beta omega

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 10 hours ago

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Pointless Protection

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: Gordon kidnaps you in 3x07, and you have your first asthma attack

“No sign of Gordon anywhere, and the sun’s going down soon.” Dean caught Sam up on his fruitless search, but Dean seemed distracted.

“He’ll be unstoppable,” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Dean wasn’t looking at Sam as he grabbed his bag and one of his guns. “You two stay here.”

“What?” Your head shot up from where you were sitting, but Sam beat you to the questioning.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“After Gordon.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Sam argued.

“Sam, he’s after you, not me, and I want both of you out of harm’s way,” Dean said.

“You—“ Sam cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “Y/N, go take a walk.”

“What?” You demanded. You knew instantly what this was about—Dean had been getting more and more reckless ever since his hell deal, and both brothers refused to talk about it with you around, like the topic of hell was too much for you to handle, even though your brother was going there in a matter of months. “No way, I—“

“Go,” Dean snapped.

“But—“

“C’mon.” Dean was already pushing you to the door. “Grown-up fight, come back later.”

“You can’t just—“

The door slammed in your face before you could finish.

…

You were fuming as you stomped away from the motel room and away from the parking lot. The chilly air bit into your skin as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon, but you barely even noticed.

Why did your brothers have to keep doing that? Keeping you from the important conversations, as if they didn’t affect you. You had so much you wanted to say to Dean; you wanted to tell him you hated how reckless he had become, you hated that he didn’t seem to care whether he lived or died because you cared.

But you never got the chance. It was like they didn’t trust you with the real stuff, as if they could keep you from this world and it’s dangers even though you were in it up to you neck—

Your racing thoughts were so distracting that you barely noticed it was getting dark until the sun was already disappearing and a cloak of darkness was thrown over the land.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, turning around instantly and rushing for the motel. If it was dark, that meant Gordon could be out. If Gordon was out…

You had to get ti the motel before he got to you.

…

“Fine,” Dean grumbled at last. “We’ll wait the night out in here, and go after Gordon together.” They’d been burning sage in the room all day so Gordon couldn’t track their scent.

“Good.” Sam huffed. “Now let’s get—“ Sam barely cracked the door open before he realized the problem. “Dean, it’s dark out.”

“What?!” Dean jumped up. “Y/N’s still in the parking lot, right?”

“I-I don’t—“ Sam took another step out the door, glancing around frantically. “Y/N!” He called out into the night air, but he got no reply. Before he could yell again, Dean’s phone rang.

“You’ve had that phone all of two hours, Dean,” Sam said. They’d gotten new phones when they’d realized that Gordon could track the old ones. “Who’d you give the number to?” he asked.

“Nobody.” Dean frowned. “Maybe it’s Y/N.” He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey there, Dean,” Gordon, sounding much too happy, greeted.

“How did you get this number?” Dean snapped.

“Your scent’s all over the phone store,” Gordon explained. “But I lost the scent. It doesn’t matter though—you’re going to find me.”

“Right,” Dean scoffed. “If this is all you’ve got, I’ve got better things to do.” Dean was about to hang up, but he stopped when Gordon spoke again.

“Actually that’s not all I have.” There was a moment of rustling on the other end of the phone.

“Dean?”

A shudder went through Dean’s body at the sound of your terrified voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean—I’m sorry De, he came out of nowhere. Don’t do what he wants, I’m—“

“Ok that’s enough.” Gordon’s voice cut off yours, but Dean could hear you crying and protesting in the background.

“Gordon—“ Dean gritted his teeth, trying to tamp down his fury. “This isn’t about her, leave her alone.”

Gordon was unfazed. “Factory on Riverside off the turnpike. Be here in twenty minutes, or your sister dies.”

“Don’t—“ Dean’s voice was cut off by the click of the phone. He didn’t waste a second, turning immediately to Sam. “Gordon has her. We have to go.”

…

“Why won’t you just shut up?” Gordon growled. He was pacing like a caged animal, rubbing his head as if that would help that fact that he’d been turned into a supernatural creature that could hear everything within a mile radius and was blinded by moonlight.

“Just let me go,” you pleaded. You’d struggled against the ropes that bound you, but all you got for it was bloody wrists. “Sam isn’t what you think he is, you don’t have to do this!”

“Shut up!” He snapped. “Your brother is a monster, and now thanks to this chase, I am too!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you listening?” He barked. “I’m not a Hunter anymore, I’m a vampire!”

“Being a monster isn’t about what you are,” you snapped, somehow finding enough bravery inside you to speak what you’d been thinking ever since you found out about Sam’s demon blood. “It’s about what you do!”

Your speech didn’t matter; Gordon wasn’t listening anymore. His head was tilted slightly, like he was trying to pick up on a faraway sound.

“Your big brothers are here to save you,” he said, reaching forwards and tying a gag around your mouth. “I’m sure this will end with all of you dead—you Winchesters seem like the type to go out together. Just remember this; I did try to warn you about Sam.”

You couldn’t say anything in response, so you just had to watch as Gordon stalked around, prepared to kill your brothers the moment they came in to save you.

…

“Gordon!” Dean’s machete was clenched tightly in his fist as he stepped into the darkened warehouse. “We’re here, now let her go!”

“I can’t do that, Dean.” Gordon’s voice echoed around the steel walls, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Not until Sammy’s dead.”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice grabbed Dean’s attention. “She’s over here!”

Dean rushed to his brother, getting there in time to see Sam pull your gag down and start untying the ropes that held your blood-soaked wrists in a vice grip. Seeing the blood drip down your hands set Dean’s teeth on edge, and he wanted nothing more than to rip Gordon’s head off.

Barely had the violent thought crossed Dean’s mind before Gordon came out of nowhere, tackling Sam to the ground before he could finish freeing you.

“Sam!” You whimpered, struggling against your bonds.

Dean jumped into the fray, knocking Gordon off his little brother but missing when he swung with the machete.

“De—“ you tried to call out for your big brother, but your breath caught on the word, and you found yourself gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Your chest felt tight, and each micro breath was less satisfying than the one before it. Sam locked eyes with you for a split second, and seemed to notice your struggling, but he was quickly distracted when Gordon managed to knock Dean away and went after Sam again.

You focused your energy back on the ropes binding you—Sam had managed to loosen one arm—and with a painful jerk, you were free. However, you’d been leaning hard against the ropes, so when your arm came free you nearly fell out of the chair, the still-tight rope on your other arm keeping you painfully still.

You tried to untie your left hand, but your fingers couldn’t get a good grip on the rope, and your vision was starting to go foggy as your battle for breath continued to fail.

You kept hearing grunts of exertion and pain from the other side of the room, but it was too dark to see and the sounds seemed to all blend together, so you had no idea who was winning the fight.

What was worse than the sounds of the fight was the silence when they stopped. The only sound you heard was the echoing rattle of your breaths.

“Hey—“ you nearly screamed when a face appeared in front of you, but all you did was let out a whimper as you blinked and realized it was Dean. “It’s ok, just breathe. We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

“I ca…I can’t…” the words could barely escape as you struggled for each breath.

“Ok, hey it’s ok,” Dean soothed. “We’ll get you to a hospital, ok? They’re gonna help you breathe, you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Gordon’s dead.” Sam was suddenly at your other side, untying your hand. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Sam lifted you into his arms without bothering to see if you could stand, and Dean followed behind as Sam carried you to the Impala.

“Her wrists are pretty bad,” Sam said as Dean started up the Impala. Sam was sitting with you in the back—something he never did—and assessing your injuries. “Those ropes were really tight. I’m gonna have to clean them up before we get to the hospital, I don’t want them asking questions we can’t answer.”

You continued to wheeze and tremble as Sam painstakingly cleaned your wrists and wrapped them in bandages.

“Here,” he said, wrapping you up in his jacket and making sure the sleeves hung down so the bandages were hidden. “You’re gonna be ok, just keep breathing.”

“We’re almost there,” Dean promised. “We’re almost there.”

…

“Does she have any allergies.”

“What? No.” Dean was getting incredibly impatient with the doctor as you continued to struggle for breath beside him. They’d made sure you weren’t being turned into a vampire already, so they figured whatever was happening to you had to be physical, not supernatural. “Would you just help her?”

“I’m trying,” the doctor assured him patiently. “But I need to know what brought this on.”

“I…she was—she—“ Dean couldn’t think of a good explanation, so Sam jumped in.

“She was scared,” Sam said. “Having a nightmare.”

“I see.” The doctor pursed her lips. “Does she have asthma.”

“No, she—“ Dean stopped short. “I don’t—I don’t think so. I mean she gets out of breath pretty quickly when she exercises, but I never thought—“

“It’s possible for the symptoms to be mild for years,” the doctor told him, then turned to you. “Does your chest feel tight right now?”

You nodded.

“And does the same thing happen when you run?”

“Not—“ you wheezed. “Never this bad.”

“Ok, ok.” The doctor turned her back on the trio of siblings and picked up an inhaler from off the table. “I thought it might be this, so if you’re sure it isn’t any allergy, this should help you quickly.” She shook up the inhaler as she neared you. “Now, once I spray this I want you to hold your breath for a few seconds, try to breathe in, and then breathe out if you can. Alright?”

You didn’t feel up to trying to talk, so you just nodded.

“Ok, good. Close your mouth around this,” she said, holding the mouthpiece to your lips. She pressed the canister down, and you followed her instructions, holding your breath before breathing in and out.

“Better?” Dean asked, seeming to hold his own breath.

“It’ll take a few minutes,” the doctor said. “Just give her some space and we’ll see if she starts to feel better.”

Sure enough, in a few minutes your chest began to feel lighter and more open, and your breathing was easier.

“Better?” The word came out of Dean like a sigh of relief, because he could already see how much easier your breathing was. You knew he was still worried that Gordon had done something to you, so asthma was a relief.

“Better,” you told him.

“Ok.” The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to get her an inhaler if she ever has another asthma attack or difficulty breathing.” She handed a prescription to Dean, who held tightly to it like it was a lifeline.

“So we can go?” Sam asked.

“Yes. She’ll probably be tired for another few hours, even days, so pay attention and give her another dose with the inhaler if she needs it.”

“Thanks,” Dean said briskly, grabbing your hand and leading you out.”

The three of you managed to slip out the back door before anyone could catch you and ask about paperwork. Dean went to the office next door to get your inhaler, and when he returned to the Impala he tore the small bag open and tucked the inhaler into his jacket pocket.

“Isn’t that for me?” You demanded.

“Are you kidding?” Dean scoffed. “You’d lose it. I’ll keep it safe for you. Just let me know if you need it, ok?”

“Fine,” you huffed, and Dean rolled his eyes. The inside of the car was quiet for a few minutes as Dean drove away from the hospital, but eventually he spoke up again.

“You really scared us there, kid.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out of the motel room,” you grumbled.

Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

“I’m in this life,” you pushed on. “I’ve always been in it. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“Yes I can,” Dean snapped.

“No you can’t,” you insisted. “You can’t protect me from you going to hell. Don’t act like that doesn’t affect me too, Dean. It does.”

The car fell into silence again, and you thought Dean was ignoring you.

“Ok,” Dean said. “I won’t kick you out next time. But don’t think that means I won’t keep protecting you. And when—“ Dean cleared his throat. “And when I’m gone, that’s gonna be Sammy’s job. So don’t give him this much attitude about it, ok?”

You forced yourself to smile, hoping it would veil the sadness in your eyes.

“It’s a deal.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you

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johnhwatsonblog · 10 hours ago

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Alright… Here goes all or nothing, I suppose...

Sherlock. Sherlock. @artofdeductionbysholmes

Do you remember the first time we sat here? I was… nervous. Nervous about you. Nervous about being with you, about whether I could keep up without making a fool of myself, about whether we’d even last this long. Nervous about… everything, really. And here I am... Nervous again. Though this time, for a slightly different reason.

Fifteen years ago, I sensed that you were throwing me a lifeline I desperately needed, and I was right. You gave my life purpose by pulling me into the madness, and I guess that says more about me than about you… But I never really had a choice after that. Nor did I want a different choice. I was hooked.

I didn’t realize back then how much I’d come to need you. How much I’d want to be part of the chaos, the mysteries, the danger… and of you. How much I’d want to be part of us.

I thought I was just tagging along for the ride, just a guy trying to fill the gap in your life. If anything, I had no idea how much you would fill mine. I had no idea what I was stepping into. You weren’t the distraction I thought you were—you were the reason I started breathing again, living again. And I didn’t dare admit that to myself until it was almost too late.

Sherlock, I’ve spent fifteen years beside you, in the middle of all the chaos, through moments when I thought I'd never see you again. I’ve spent fifteen years not knowing how to handle being properly us. But every single time, I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t want to walk away. Because it was always you, Sherlock. You. It was always the way you made me see the world differently, the way you needed me even when you didn’t know how to show it. And even when we almost lost everything… I still needed you. And I think… I know I always will.

Perhaps I shouldn’t bring up Mary right now, but it’s important that you understand this:

I loved her, yes. She was everything I needed at a time when I was looking for stability, for peace, for someone to build a life with. And for a while, that’s exactly what I thought I wanted. She gave me the family I didn’t know I wanted, the kind of love that was steady and real. But, as much as I loved her, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as you, Sherlock.

You and I—what we have—it’s, I don’t care how cliché this must sound, it’s different. It’s not just a love built on quiet moments or the comfort of shared days. It’s something that shakes me to my core. Every time I’m with you, I feel like the ground beneath me is shifting. It’s unpredictable, thrilling. It’s essential.

There’s a force between us that pulls me in, whether I’m ready for it or not. I never expected to need you as much as I do, but that’s the truth of it. You make me see the world in ways I never could have imagined before you walked into my life.

With you, I’ve never felt more alive, more like I’m part of something far greater than myself. You’ve turned my world upside down, in a way I never thought I needed, and I know I can’t live without it.

The love I have for you, Sherlock… that’s the one that truly shakes the foundations of who I am. It’s the kind of love that changes everything. And I think I’ve always known, deep down, that it was never really a choice. Not for me.

You’ve been the constant in my life. Through everything we’ve been through, you’ve been the one thing I can rely on. Even when you were… away… I sought you out and found you. You were—and are—ingrained in my very existence. And I’ve realized something crucial in the last year: I will never want it any other way. Nothing matters to me more than this. I just want you.

And I know I’ve never been good at expressing this, but Sherlock… I’m asking you now, in this place, of all places—where it all started, where we began as just partners—to be. To be officially more than just partners for the rest of our lives. I'm ready to make that vow.

I promise you I will never take you for granted. That I will never hurt you as I have before. That I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that I am worthy of being in your life.

Here I am, hoping that you allow me at least this convention.

I guess what I’m asking is….

#29th of January #happy johnlock day #anniversary #proposal #reblog if you like #john watson blog #catch the easteregg #johnlock roleplay #johnlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock rp #john watson blogs #sherlock roleplay #bbc sherlock #sherlock fandom #johnlock rp

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lavender-twilight23 · 12 hours ago

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I can’t deal with the cuteness of Cherik and they’re so in love, HOW did I ever think they were platonic????

Anyways, in light of this, may I present:

The Homoerotic Cherik Touches

(To no one’s surprise, six out of the nine of these moments are from the satellite scene in First Class)

Those are last though, first, we have the ALMOST touches:

Every time they brush past each other I can FEEL the sparks flying. And not to mention they’re stepping aside to talk about their MUTANT KIDS.

I mean come on, Charles literally says, “they’re just our kids”

The triumphant, supportive back pats

Erik is SO happy 🥹🥹 our boys are in LOVE

lil shoulder tap 🥰

And THIS ONE THOUGH???

First of all, Charles licks his lips- he wants Erik so goddamn bad.

Second of all, Erik looks sad to watch him go.

Third, that wasn’t a shoulder tap, that was the most homoerotic gay pat ever.

And this one 👇🏻 I tragically FORGOT, so thank you to @lenichque for reminding me!

And Erik’s little glance at him KILLS ME 😭

@wishchip106‘s reblog reminded me that I literally made gifs for more homoerotic touches but I guess I missed them in my camera roll 😑😑😑 I’m so ticked at myself lol but yall are wonderful with reminding me 😂

The supportive shoulder tap 😭❤️

Well okay that’s actually more like a SLAP

My man REACTED to that one like “damn that was violent but sexy” 😂

GUN 😁🫱🏻🔫🤏🏻🫤

😭😭😭😭THEM.😭😭😭😭

THIS SHIP IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW 🥹🥹

GIFs made by me in Canva! ❤️

#x men #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik #charles x erik #x men films #x men first class #x men fandom #I love them so much #how are they this adorable #they are so in love #THEMMMM 🥹🥹🥹

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 9 hours ago

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Reign Down on Me - Part 11

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with me 💕

-🐺-

“So, Pup, now that we’re acquainted I want to start the session by doing a quick check in to see how you’re feeling. For the first few visits with my clients, I usually like to provide a sheet just to help you express yourself properly. So I’m gonna give you this and then once you’ve made your selections we can talk about them and I can answer any questions you have. Don’t be afraid to pick as many as you need to!”

You stared dead eyed at Dr. Beale, already plotting a bloody murder attempt on Price; one befitting of the betrayal that you felt by being subjected to a therapist with all her gentle tones and well meaning smiles. She appeared nice enough, dark coils of hair twisted into a bun, a bright watercolour patterned dress, a small pair of black rimmed glasses; she could’ve passed for a school teacher honestly.

You decided you wouldn’t be fooled by her outward appearance though, plenty of people could put on a good front afterall. She was probably going to play mind tricks on you. That’s what everyone said about therapists, right? She was going to find out about the things you resolved to tell no one about…

Besides, It wasn’t fair! Surely everyone in the team had their shit to deal with. Why were they allowed to romp around and continue with normal training while you’d been dumped into the quacks office? An office beckoning secrets to march out in the dreary reality of it all.

The room itself was painted a now worn yellow with a bobbly carpet across the expanse of it that looked like it was about to match the walls with just a little more foot traffic. Despite that, Dr.Beale had clearly tried to make her best effort to cheer the place up. A string of fairy lights glowed behind her across the wall, illuminating the colourful art that was pinned up all over the place. She’d stuffed a few pot plants by the one window that did its best to shine a little light into the room, and from your puffy old armchair, you could just see a ‘plant mother’ mug sat at her desk to the left of her.

Plants and fairy lights or not, you still felt like you were in hell. Waiting to be condescended to, waiting to be told what your feelings are and how to deal with them as if you hadn’t been managing yourself your whole life. Not to mention be shaken down for that one thing you said you purposefully wouldn’t discuss with her.

“Here you go! Circle the ones you think fit best right now.”

Dr. Beale finished shuffling through the papers in her hands and reached over to give you the floppy laminated sheet she selected. After that you were handed a whiteboard marker and given an expectant smile.

You sighed and looked down at the assignment, almost groaning out loud when you saw what was on it. A few rows of cartoon faces greeted you and underneath each was an emotion. At the top of the sheet was a big thick fonted title that read ‘today I feel…’

Today I feel like I’m gonna puke up breakfast, you thought.

For a moment you considered walking out and begging Price to give you one more chance, to drop the whole therapy thing. However once you remembered back to Ghost dropping you off, you let your ears sag against your head and dismissed the idea. The last thing you needed was Ghost marching into the room and getting in the middle of it all.

Besides everyone had their work cut out for them. That’s what you told yourself. Soap and Gaz had to train, Ghost was at a meeting about the parade and Price was busy fuming over dead end leads and uncooperative guests.

With that in mind you circled the orange grumpy face that said annoyed, the grey neutral face and at the last minute, also circled the light blue embarrassed face. After your selections were made you handed the sheet back to Dr.Beale and watched as she studied it. Of course when she looked back up at you she greeted you with that same neutral little smile.

“Ok, thank you so much for sharing that with me. Now why don’t we talk about this a little. Would you like to tell me why you’re annoyed?”

You bit your lip, undecided if you’d be honest or if you’d try to brush her off. Once you looked into her steely eyes though, you knew she didn’t look like a woman that was going to be easily fooled. Besides, over the time you’d been with him, Ghost had hammered the need to be honest into you till you felt sore at the idea of deflecting anymore. Well, deflecting about most things anyway.

“I don’t think I need therapy,” you shrugged. “I could be doing something worthwhile right now, training with my team, or helping Ghost, even the gym seems more productive. No one’s ever stopped to talk about my emotions before and I don’t get what use that’s gonna be now. It’s not like any of the others have to take time out to talk about their feelings, why should I be any different?”

“I see,” she nodded. “And is that why you’re embarrassed? You think that being away from your team and talking with me is something to feel ashamed of?”

You nodded.

“Well, I can see why you feel that way, it’s valid from your perspective, but i think it’s worthwhile remembering that your team have different needs than you.”

“What, you think all hybrids need therapy?” You frowned.

She laughed a little at that and shook her head. The silence of her pause rang out, prompting you to look away from her and focus on a leaf on one of the plants. You watched it bounce and sway with the slight draft that swept in through the window.

“I meant that as an individual we have different needs, is all,” she finally said. “We all struggle with different issues, need a little help with things now and then. Can you think of a reason why your captain signed you up for your sessions with me? Is there something you need to work through that you need help with?”

“I uh…” you paused this time, recognising that her tone conveyed that she knew exactly what you were supposed to say, Price had already told her of course. “I…black out sometimes when I’m put to work. I give into my instincts and I stop- stop being myself.”

She nodded, giving you space to add anything else with a gentle smile. It unnerved you. Never in your long career had you ever been given the space to sit and tell someone all your problems before, and only in that moment did you realise how much you could actually talk about if you let the dam break.

Everything rushed through your head at once, the pressure bursting through your skull and reverberating across your clenched teeth. Your parents leaving you, Maddox torturing you, moments where you had no one to talk to, no one to comfort you, getting practically thrown out of helicopters and Jeeps and sent into the line of fire, sweating for hours in hot climates and assisting aid workers till you passed out, shivering and breathing out fading pillars of steam in the Norwegian mountains because your clothing was in such poor condition, starving in the kennels, begging for medical attention-

“Are you alright? Would you like a cup of tea or some water or something?”

You blinked over at Dr. Beale. Suddenly you were back in your body and you realised you’d been clenching the arms of your chair so hard that your claws had stuck themselves into the puffy lining.

You apologised and asked for some tea in as even a tone as you could muster.

“When Price reached out, he told me about the instinct driven black outs- said Ghost had been managing you mostly, but that in a recent mission you wouldn’t listen and you almost died,” Dr. Beale said, standing by the kettle you hadn’t spotted before as it rumbled to life. “He also said, despite the blackouts, you’d been enjoying your time with your new team, said your relationship with Ghost was solid. Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to share more on any of that?”

You had to take a second to process what you were going to tell her. Words weren't flooding to you in those moments. Your mind was still busy turning different possibilities over, sifting through possible outcomes of telling her or not telling her certain things. Was Beale to be trusted, would she actually help you? Why would Price make you speak to someone who wasn’t being genuine in their intention to help? But then how well did he know this doctor?

“I dunno, the 141 have been nice to me. They all look after me and I like that I get to feel…like a part of something.”

“That’s great! It’s important to have bonds like that in your line of work. It’s hard when you’re a hybrid though, huh?”

“Mmhm, I didn’t think I’d ever have a handler,” you shrugged. “I’m lucky to have gotten Ghost though. He’s been…really nice to me.”

She stirred the tea bag around in the mug a second, the tinkling sound of the metal against ceramic causing your ears to flick. After quickly asking if you wanted milk and sugar, you were soon handed the warm mug, giving your hands something to clench onto. The steam gave you a sense of clarity, reminded you to breathe more.

“What kinds of nice things does Ghost do then?”

-🐺-

“Get your coat on, we’re heading out.”

You looked up from the colourful pages of your graphic novel and huffed out a sigh as Ghost passed by your room. The day after getting back from Mexico you had been looking forward to catching up on your reading and doing nothing for most of the day. Apparently Ghost had other plans though.

He was already at the door getting his boots on when you emerged, your ears drawn back and mouth set in a firm line. Your fingers curled into the warmth of your jacket sleeves, waiting on Ghost moving out the way so that you could get your own shoes on. The hall was cold since the heating hadn’t been on and the smell of the recent rain fall had managed to permeate around the door all the while. You liked that smell, didn’t mind that Ghost took a few extra seconds.

“Where we going?” You asked, only speaking once you started to do up your laces.

“Out.”

“Why?” You tried again, smiling when you saw his own barely concealed grin in the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I found somethin’ you’d like.”

“And what is it I like?” You pressed, ears standing fully to attention now.

“Asking too many bloody questions apparently, fuck me,” he chuckled.

He ruffled your hair and was rewarded with a growl for his effort. He didn’t back down though. You playfully went to chomp on the edge of his palm, trying to discourage him from messing up your appearance right before going, but he drew his hand back in time before your teeth could connect. Your fangs biting into air.

“Naughty.”

“You started it,” you said with a smirk.

“And I’ll put an end to it too. Anymore tryin’ to bite me and I’ll bite ya back.”

You folded your ears back in fake alarm, but of course Ghost knew exactly what you were doing and laughed you off. After ordering you to get your boots on it didn’t take long before you were out the door and following him into the car. The destination was still a mystery and Ghost remained stalwart in refusing any clues. It was to be an off base trip, that much was obvious, but to where?

Once Ghost got driving the scenery flashed by like a rolling screen, the barracks houses soon fading to country lanes and then springing back up to houses, then blocks of flats, the familiar route to the city splashing out ahead of you. All the way through the roads, classical music played softly in the background, the dramatic violins willing the road to pass under the wheels faster and faster while the road roared above it all. You liked car rides with Ghost, appreciated that you got to sit in his quiet company while he concentrated on the drive.

After about a half hour, once day had quickly faded into night like a blinking eye, the car rolled up and up until eventually coming to a stop in a tall parking structure. When you got out of the car, the chill of the air bit your cheeks and beckoned you to come closer into its winds. You peeked over the edge of the barrier, staring down over the solid fencing at the city below with a cautious head tilt. You thought of the many vantage points you’d waited at throughout your life and couldn’t help but wait to be told to track a target.

“C’mon, Pup. This way.”

Ghost pulled up his neck gaiter, newly ordered for the parade, and marched off toward the doorway. He knew you’d follow. Both of you milling past cars and toward the doors of the shopping centre beyond. Through the frosted glass you could already see the beginning glow of the lights beyond, smell the scattered scents of different shops teas and perfumes and chocolates among the mingling aromas.

“Gonna take me on another shopping spree?” You enquired.

“Oh yeah, gonna make sure we get you kitted out. Get you all the clothes you’ve been begging me for,” he deadpanned. “Little fashionista.”

His flat voice gave nothing away. Only the crinkle of his eyes indicated to you that he wasn’t serious. It was hard to resist playing along with the bit however.

“You think I’ll finally get that cowboy hat I always wanted?”

“Mm,” he grunted thoughtfully. “Get you the boots to match too.”

“And a whip?”

“Now that’ll do, I’ve only got so much budget.”

Finally you both entered through the double doors, Ghost holding the door open for you and letting you walk into the warmth first. The twinkling lights were easy to see now, all brightly sparkling amongst the banners that rolled down from the ceiling, all advertising great deals to be had and fun places to go to. A couple of the banners even seemed to show a few hybrids. You stood for a second to to take them in, still surprised that hybrids were shown on advertisements now, blinking up for a few moments before you followed Ghost again.

“So where are we actually going?” You huffed, finally falling in line with his huge steps.

“You’ll see soon,” he laughed.

He waved you off with his hand when you tried to whine at him. It didn’t matter what you threw his way, he was quite content to swat you off like a fly. At one point he started digging his hand into your neck just to make you laugh and distract you from asking any more questions.

After some amount of shoving from each of you, you soon ended up in front of a bookstore. It was one of the chains you were used to going to, the fuzzy purple carpet the same as all the others, the tall stacks of colourful shelves gleaming with promise of adventure, romance and cartoon ass kickings.

“You were being all secretive about going to the bookshop, why exactly?” You asked, cocking an ear back in confusion.

Not that you weren’t grateful. However you’d gone to the book shop before with him, it was hardly worthy of being a secret. Ghost was cryptic as ever though. He merely shrugged his shoulders and lead the way inside, already beelining for the graphic novels without any input from you. You followed after him with a shake of your head after.

With the next three books in your favourite series secured, plus another novel ‘without bloody pictures in it’ at Ghost’s insistence, he took you out of the shop and lead you up to the food court afterwards. The ‘adventure’ wasn’t at an end yet. You stood on the escalator and looked out at the people walking around - all to absorbed with themselves to worry about you, you’d now learned. It wasn’t a very busy night either, as stairs flattened at the top, it was revealed the food court was much the same as the rest of the place.

“What do you want then?” He asked, stopping at a pillar and letting you survey the floor while he leaned his back against it.

All the usual offerings filled the place, random Chinese, Italian, and sandwich shops, chains dotted in between them, and of course some random desert stalls. The smells invaded your senses, most tempting you to choose them, until one particular one won out. Pizza.

“I’ll not bother asking what you want on it,” Ghost snorted.

You’d protest if you didn’t know your own predictability. Besides there were more important things at stake than a wrong order. Once you were situated behind a young couple, you couldn’t help diving into your bag of books and pulling out your new book. It’d been a while since you’d read something with full sentences, the graphic novels were too addictive and easy to read after a long day, but this story seemed interesting at least.

“You’re a nonsense, you are.”

“What? You’re the one that was encouraging me to get the thing and now I can’t read it?”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t read it. Most people just wait till they’re sat down to read.”

“I’m not most people,” you shrugged, shooting him a sly smile and a flick of the ears.

He didn’t protest that. In true Ghost fashion, he nodded and made some gruff comment about you being a ‘harmless weirdo’ at least. Which, of course, you wouldn’t let stand. Harmless? It would be an insult to let him call you harmless when he knew exactly what you could do. You gave him a flash of your teeth, but were quickly disarmed when he squeezed the funny spot between your neck and shoulder again.

“Stop doing that!” you whined, slapping his arm.

“But it’s funny,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And you like it when I tease ya.”

“Do not.”

“Yeah you do. Your tail’s wagging.”

“That’s an annoyed wag actually. There’s a big difference,” you said, ensuring you weren’t looking anywhere near his eyes.

If you had made eye contact you would’ve been afraid that Ghost would figure out you just liked it any time he touched you - no matter if it was teasing or not. After so long a time spent isolated and shoved away in kennels or bunks, every casual gesture felt like another drop in the cup that had been empty for so long. Now it felt like that cup was filling up more and more by the day, and you weren’t sure that there was an end, but knew that the bottom was just a bad memory now.

The people ahead of you in the line stood off to the side a moment after, and soon you were snapped out of your thoughts and watching the Lieutenant. Ghost parted from you to get the pizzas and pay, quickly reeling off the order and tapping his card on the machine. He motioned his head for you to follow him to the next nearest pillar. His back once again easing against the solid surface.

“You’re getting better at making shit up. Must be all that reading you’re doing,” Ghost noted, forcing you to remember what you’d just been talking about. “Or too much time with Gaz, cheeky bastard.”

He pulled you into him and mussed your hair, paying special attention to your ears. You whined but it didn’t matter. His knuckles relentlessly went on and built static between his skin and your hair and fur. Even without a mirror you knew that you were going to look a mess. You grabbed onto his hand and tried to separate yourself from the big lump holding you down, but it was no use.

“You’re not funny,” you huffed.

“Now that’s a lie,” Ghost laughed, finally letting you go. “Tails still waggin’ an’ all.”

“What my tail does isn’t any of your business,” you said petulantly.

“Everything you do is my business, Pup.”

“Oh yeah? Why that?”

“Cause you’re mine,” he said, a smile in his eyes while he smoothed the back of his hand across your jaw.

In that moment, you couldn’t be more glad that he was called to go pick up the pizza, otherwise he might’ve caught the way your pupils expanded like a playful cat’s and the obnoxious speed of your tail. With a gulp and ‘get yourself together’, you walked toward a nearby table and waited for him to bring the food. There was no way you could muster looking toward him without crumbling into an overexcited bundle of nerves.

“Excuse me,” called a small voice, capturing your attention.

You tilted your head and turned, soon finding the source of the sound. A small boy that had somehow materialised next to you on the bench that you’d chosen, his ears folded back and tail in his hand. At first you wondered where his parents were, worrying about what could happen to a hybrid child that found themselves missing, but then you remembered he’d tried to get your attention.

“Are you ok? Do you need help?” You asked, still glancing around for a parent or some other family member who he might belong to.

“No, no I’m fine,” he said, releasing his tail and sitting up tall on his knees. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilted your head again and looked him up and down. He was maybe seven or eight, quite tall even while on his knees on the bench, but he was all lanky and fluffy with his small age still. You weren’t much older than him when you’d been sent off to Branhaven. Had you looked so fragile and sweet once?

“What is it?” you finally asked, trying to forget about your own thoughts for the moment.

“Are you a soldier?” he asked, pointing to the collar at your neck.

“I am,” you confirmed, a smile forming. “Why do you wanna know?”

“My daddy’s a soldier,” the boy shrugged, “he has a collar like that, but he only wears it when he has to work. Are you working?”

Now you could only frown. His father was a hybrid? And a soldier? It raised a few different questions for you, namely how could he have had a child with the lifestyle he led, and furthermore how could he be present when he’d be bound to a handler. Had you felt it appropriate, you would’ve thrown a thousand questions at the boy, but instead you answered him.

“I’m not working,” you said. “I just don’t like taking it off.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I’m naked without it,” you shrugged.

The boy giggled at your answer, his bushy black tail wagging with delight. He was thoroughly impressed until Ghost walked over, sticking your pizza down and giving you a questioning look. Then the boy cocked his head, unsure of what to do.

“Did you multiply while I wasn’t looking?” he asked, eyes crinkling.

The boy smiled again and wagged his tail, clearly sensing that Ghost must be safe. When you’d first met him it had taken a while to convince you of that, but then you supposed in his civvy clothes there was more of a softness about him.

“Uh, kinda,” you said sheepishly, again wondering about where the kid’s parents were. “He was asking about my collar. Saying his dad is a hybrid soldier like me.”

“That right?” Ghost asked, taking the chair out across from you both. “What’s your name then?”

“I’m Ben Killroy,” the boy said proudly, puffing his chest up. “And I’m gonna be a soldier just like my dad and your hybrid.”

That made your stomach drop. A weight settling somewhere deep in your bones at the very idea of being driven down and delivered off into the same life you were. How long until that little smile washed off his face? A whole day or maybe just a few hours?

“That so? And your dad wants that for you does he?” Ghost asked.

“Well no,” he huffed, his ears folding back in annoyance. “Him and mum told me I’m not allowed to go, they keep saying I have to keep going to stupid school and get an education. Except they can’t tell me what to do once I’m eighteen, so then I can join!”

“School isn’t stupid, you’ll have a lot more fun there than the army,” you said sternly, firmly agreeing with his parents.

“Ugh, you’re just like my parents,” he groaned, throwing his hands up. “School is crap! You have to sit in a room and pay attention to a stupid blackboard and you only get like… forty minutes outside. Plus there’s bullies that pull your tail and call you big ears in my school. If I went to a hybrid training program then no one would bully me for my tail or ears because everyone would have them! Except my dad says that’s not true and you do get bullied, but then when i ask him to prove it, he doesn’t tell me how its not true! That means he must be lying.”

At that you couldn’t help but snort, wishing you could pat his dad on the back. How right he was. Before you could tell him just how ludicrous the idea of not getting bullied in the army was, Ghost got in before you. Leaving you simmering to yourself.

“You know in the army you have to stay inside all day sometimes, and you have to sit in meetings for hours where you’re not allowed to speak or move?” Ghost said, peering over at you. “Isn’t that right, Pup?”

You nodded at him, watching as Ben narrowed his eyes.

“Why would you have to be in meetings not speaking or moving for hours?”

“Sometimes your handler has to be in them and talk about the mission you were on. You have to be there too, just in case you have to answer questions as well, but most of the time you’re expected to sit quiet and in the same spot without fidgeting- otherwise you get punished,” Ghost explained, nodding toward you. “Pup knows all about that, don’t you?”

“One time I had sit in a ten hour long meeting, and the one time I let out a yawn I got written up for it,” you said, full to bursting with unsavoury experiences you could regale him with.

“But that’s not fair, ten hours is like…its like basically a whole day!”

“Uh huh, and after that I had to sleep outdoors all night,” you shrugged.

“You have to sleep outside? In the cold?” He asked, frowning deeper now and holding his tail again.

“Yup. That’s one of the punishments you get the most when you’re in training.”

The boy didn’t look pleased about that at all. Though before he could question it any more a tall woman in a rain coat came by and snatched him by his hand. Not a hybrid, but still she clutched at him protectively and wore a panicked look in her eyes.

“What has mummy told you about running off in public places, Ben! I went to the play area and got a shock when you weren’t there, that’s not very nice to mummy is it? ” She said sternly, ushering him to her side before addressing you and Ghost. “I’m really sorry about him. He always has to talk to every other hybrid he sees, even when he’s been told not to go wandering off.”

“Muuum,” he whined, ears glued to the side of his head. “You’re embarassing me in front of the soldiers.”

She raised her brows and looked properly at you both, eyes flickering to the collar around your neck and then over at Ghost. Knowing what you were, she seemed to tense a bit more.

“He hasn’t caused any trouble has he?” She asked, wrapping an arm around the huffing boy.

“He's fine,” Ghost said, dipping his head a little. “Was just telling us how he wanted to join up is all. We were saying that there’s no rush, school first.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing again and smoothing a hand over her son’s head. “Yes, that’s very good advice. Do you hear that, Ben? School first!”

“But dad didn’t have to go to school,” Ben grumbled.

“Well that’s because he didn’t get a choice, did he? C’mon, we’ve been enough of a distraction to these nice people. Let’s get you home, you little rascal,” she said sternly, looking to you for the last time she went on to say, “thanks for looking after him. You're a good soul.”

With that she ushered the protesting boy away and left you and Ghost to your food. At first the silence lingered between you both like a chasm, both of you digging in to your pizza. You staring off into the distance after the woman, while Ghost looked on at you with a calculating gaze.

“You alright?” He finally asked.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes when he did nothing but raise his brows at you. “I just…I dunno. His mum was scared for him. She cares about him and wants him to go to school…”

Another moment of quiet passed. You chewed thoughtfully on a bit of pizza, barely tasting it, while figuring out what to say. Truthfully you didn’t really know how to put coherent words to what you were thinking beyond, ‘it’s not fair’. The beat of that particular drum almost outweighed all other thought.

“And his dad… is like me. How does a hybrid soldier have a kid he’s raising?”

“Things have gotten a bit better the last few years. If you met someone and had a kid with them, you’d be given time off and be allowed to stay with them outside your work hours,” Ghost shrugged. “Did you not know that?”

“No… I suppose that never really applied to me till now though. Nobody ever took me off base, so it’s not like I would’ve met anyone.”

Ghost reached across the table and settled his warm hand on top of yours, his roughened thumb tracing the outline of yours. Your ears perked up at that.

“Well it’s not like that anymore. You’ve got options, and people that care about you,” he murmured, his hand still caressing yours. “Just don’t go runnin’ off too quick. We’d miss ya.”

You smiled at that, a swish working its way back into your tail. The strange look Ghost wore on his face had a wave of giddiness washing over you. If you weren’t mistaken it was almost like…

“Are you jealous at the idea of me going off to live with someone else, Ghost?” You asked, tone light enough that it could pass for a joke.

He snorted at that and drew back, looking away for a second before returning his eyes to yours. His stare was just as piercing as always. Vats of molten honey.

“I told you in Mexico, I didn’t like it when you were gone. Feels wrong.”

“But you’d let me go if I asked?”

Ghost said yes. Tone clipped, shoulders hunched as he shovelled his way through another slice of pizza. He didn’t know it, but you smiled then and could hardly look at him as you thought about the possibilities that a lifetime with him could entail.

“I don’t think I could imagine living with someone else now,” you said thoughtfully. “Not even the others. Especially not Price.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Too scarred after Mexico, the snore levels that man is capable of. I think health and safety should do a decibel test on him,” you said with a grin, watching on with glee as Ghost’s smile returned.

“It’s funny you say that because Price had similar complaints about you,” he said slyly.

“No he didn’t!”

“Yes he did. Said you were squirmy and all, that you kept trying to shift yourself under his arms till he was cuddling you,” He laughed, pointing his pizza at you.

“No I didn’t, that’s a lie!” you protested, a full whine breaking out into your voice.

Ghost’s dirty laugh came into full affect then, a full body thing that had your cheeks warming with the sound. Despite feeling mortified at the idea of unconsciously making Price spoon you, the fact that you were back on track with Ghost again couldn’t help but derail your shock. It was another moment of feeling normal, feeling almost human. It had you shaking your head at him instead and finishing your pizza with a little sigh of ‘unbelievable’.

“He didn’t actually say that, but you always do that with me.”

And thus the back and forth continued, the two of you fighting good naturedly while putting the pizza boxes in the bin, then still as you walked to the unknown next location and so finally stopping when you reached the cinema. The big dark lobby encased you, the dim lights making Ghost’s eyes sparkle all the more while he still refused to tell you what the big surprise was.

Even when you reached the screen and sat in your big comfy chairs, you still couldn’t get the answer out of him, no more than a ‘wait and see’ was given. Not that it mattered to you of course. It had been many many years since you’d gone to the cinema and truth be told you were happy to watch just about anything. The smell of your popcorn filled your senses, while the low lights and quiet conversations lulled you into a relaxed state, drawing you closer and closer to Ghost’s chair next to you until you were leaning your head against the bulk of his shoulder.

“I forgot how much I loved the cinema,” you sighed. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“S’alright.”

You were quiet a few moments more, watching with rapt attention even at the adverts, noting some of the trailers in your head for later so that you could see those movies later. A comedy that made you full on snort till Ghost was giving you a funny look, and a romance film that you would never confess to Ghost to wanting to see and would find a way to watch yourself, were among the few you’d catalogued away.

Soon the lights blackened almost completely and any hushed conversations then died down. Your ears perked up when the screen went black and you tilted your head, waiting to read the title of the movie. When the screen showed, you blinked a couple times and tilted your head again. It was… the same title as the graphic novels you read. You frowned and turned to Ghost, waiting to see if your assumption was surely wrong, but the smile that inched onto his face told you otherwise.

“No way!” you whispered ecstatically.

“Surprise,” he whispered back, bumping you with his shoulder.

At that point you were sat up straight in your chair, full attention directed onto the screen as the opening music blared on and vibrant colours and shapes that seemed to have been pulled right off the pages of your books were dancing into life on the screen. Characters that you had spent hours thinking about began to appear, lines that you could remember reading and rereading were spoken and it was like magic itself was woven into the world in that moment.

Ghost’s secrecy had paid off. Perhaps it had paid off a little too well - for hours after the film you were going on and on regaleing him about similarities and differences to the graphic novels, making sure he knew that one of the characters was different but so much better, that the ending of that film would lead to the next few comics in the series, that the lore of the world was worked into the film so well while covering the 3 books that it was based off. At times he would sprinkle in some questions here and there, but mostly you hit him with your full analysis until it probably felt like to him that you had seen the movie twice together.

Once you’d gotten home and into the bathroom, delving into your nightly routine, something in your chest simply wouldn’t let you settle into your own bed. Everything in you vibrated like a spring that needed to bounce, so much so that after trying to read the same line of your book five times, you admitted to yourself that you couldn’t get back into your routine after the day you’d had. And so you did the only thing you could think to do.

Creeping into the hallway, you padded downward until you reached Ghost’s room, perking an ear up and listening for any sounds of sleep. Even with your superior hearing you couldn’t really make out much, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t already knocked out.

“Ghost,” you said, hoping your voice would pierce through the door just enough to hear. “Are you asleep yet?”

A moment passed.

“Did you have another bloody thought about that movie?” came his bleary reply.

You grinned to yourself and opened the door, revealing Ghost propped against his pillows and sitting on his phone with the dull lamp on. His hair was fluffy with static, and his eyes betrayed his tiredness. Contrary to you, he looked like he could fall back and rest the second he could.

“It’s not about the movie,” you affirmed, closing the door behind you and settling onto the foot of his bed. “I just wanted a minute.”

He grunted over at you, continuing to finish up whatever he was doing on his phone. You clutched your knees in your hands, in the meantime, looking around at all the familiar cracks in the wall and bits and pieces on the floor. It was warm that night, but even so you curled up into something small.

“Come on up then,” Ghost finally said, chucking his phone to his bedside table before lifting up the sheet. “Might as well get comfy.”

Even worming your way into his sheets felt like a hug, his scent spilling from the cotton as if you were pressed in close to him. However, you remained across from him, propping yourself up on an elbow and looking up at him like a worshipper to a god. His pale chest was revealed now that the covers had shifted, and so while you stared at him your eyes lingered there while your mind whirred, not really sure what to say.

“I wanted to thank you again for today,” you finally said, looking him in the eyes. “And I wanted to say that I really appreciate everything you do for me. I don’t think I ever would’ve been able to come up with anything like this if you’d have asked me where I’d want to be months ago and I just wanted to say that you’re amazing. I’m not sure what I did to deserve all this, or you, but I’m really glad I got to.”

He blinked syrupy slow and kept looking at you with an easy smile on his face, now turning to meet you in your sideways position. Ghost’s heat now began seeping into you, your heart rate thumping as he pulled you into his orbit. His own pulse danced in your ears and soon you were hypnotised by it, just looking his eyes while he looked into yours.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmured, reaching out and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you had a nice night. Though I’m not someone that you need to worry about deserving, darlin’.”

“Yeah you are,” you said breathily, smile growing.

In a moment of impish fun, you turned your head and pretended to bite his thumb, fastening your two sets of teeth around it and letting the points of your canines graze against his skin. He raised his eyebrows and used his other hand to grab your cheeks, giving you a warning squeeze. You let him go, but his grip still remained on you.

“What’d I say about you biting me, you little shit?” he said, good humour still written on his face.

“You said you’d bite me back,” you shrugged.

“Wouldn’t want that now, would you?” he grunted.

“Maybe I do,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows at him again. “What then?”

He shook his head, his teeth on full show from his smile. His full face seemed to glow like white gold, the lamplight casting its rays onto him. Things moved slow then, he got closer to you, breaking the space between you until he was pushed right up against you, releasing your face finally, but still keeping you pinned with arm against your back. He watched you carefully, and you stared right back, breathing slow but expression alight.

“Feels to me like you’re after something else now,” he said as fact, you both knew it.

Even if he didn’t need a response, you nodded slowly. Your heart was pounding like a train in your ears, body rattling with stray energy now that you were in a position you’d thought of only in daydreams. For a little second of panic you wondered if this was him about to admonish you of thinking such things. Though he didn’t let you worry long.

“You sure?” he asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t explain.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He bit his lip, the scar there tightening with the action.

“Ask me.”

“What?” you frowned, shifting back and feeling his hand press into your back.

“Ask me for what you want. Go on,” he said, an indescribable look crossing his eyes.

“You want me to ask you for…” you trailed, waiting for him to interrupt, but he didn’t. “I want- for… you to kiss me.”

He chuckled at you stumbling on your words.

“You what now?”

You growled out a frustrated sigh and turned your face into his pillow.

“I want you to kiss me, alright?” you snapped, words muffled in the fabric.

At that he ushered you out of the pillow and brought his lips to yours. His mouth hot and firm against yours as every little cell in your body seemed to dance. His hands gripped your waist, making sparking little fires dance across your nerves and his body pushed into yours once again. He allowed you to come back into your body, continuing to kiss you gently, until eventually your lips moved with his and soon enough opened so that your tongues could meet.

A few seconds later and you were parting. Finally catapulting out from a stupor you soon opened your eyes and met his searching ones. Ghost breathed heavily, but then so did you and for a few seconds neither of you said anything. You simply weren’t capable. Your lips felt like they were tingling still.

“You alright?”

-🐺-

“Pup are you alright?” Dr. Beale asked, her worried expression dragging you back into the room.

Only then did you realise your chest was pounding and you accidentally squeaked, feeling as though her gaze was seeking out forbidden information. You cleared your throat, pretending that was all you were doing the whole time, and took a sip of your tea, thinking back to the last thing you’d told her.

Of course you’d regaled her about your trip out, about meeting the boy in the food court and going to your movie, however when it came to going home. You figured you’d skip that part. Instead you looked off into the room and shook your head. Your body dispelling the last paranoid nerves that told you she was psychic and knew your every thought.

“Sorry… I just had a weird dream that night was all. Anyway, basically Ghost is really nice, yeah. What else did you want to know?”

#reign down on me #simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader

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troyesvn · 2 days ago

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I am, but, tour is on pause until March for him now so... I could be easily persuaded. Though, a lot of wedding planning is here, and we're getting down to the last moments, so it's a fight between the big day and the babies right now. I might cry.

This is why I love you. Are you and Ross still in Australia? Or can I convince you to come see the babies?

#( dash ; dove )

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destinedfordiapers · 5 hours ago

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One Year Update

For a while I was thinking about making a one-year of posting recap, thanking everyone for listening to my rants and working through all my incontinence hang ups. And talk about what I learned.

But it seems so trivial now. I have learned a lot about myself and this kink. And big thanks to everyone who I’ve met along this journey.

I’m going to try and keep writing, but it’s increasingly hard for me. This has all been a welcome distraction, something that I look forward too. It’s just hard.

As I said before, I’m an immigration attorney. I started my career last time he was president. It was a struggle, but it all felt worth it. Exhausting, but I was new and hungry to fight the good fight.

I made it through and I am proud of my successes. But once it was all over, I realized the toll it took on my mental health. It took over a year, four failed antidepressants, months of therapy, and a little help from my fungal friends to recover.

And now it’s happening again. Except now I’m tired from before. I remember the struggle and what’s about to happen.

Every part of my self-preservation instinct tells me I need to stop and run. That I cannot do it again. I’m scared I won’t be able to climb out of the depression hole again.

I’m already deeply stressed and anxious. I wake up sweating. Every call I get, every email I receive I flinch, hoping it’s not one of my clients’ spouses calling because the love of their life is detained. It’s already happening across the country.

But then I hear the fear in my clients’ voices. The terror that comes when they know their life—their family—can be ripped apart at a moments notice. I’ve met them, their spouses, their children. Some I’ve known for over 8 years.

And I know I could never stop. Not now when they need me most. Even though I know what it will cost me. I like to pretend it’s like this:

But I know it’s going to be a long four years. And far less cool. I don’t know why I’m sharing this other than I just need to get it all out.

And if I don’t post captions as often, that’s why.

Adding: if you or anyone you know are concerned, this ACLU page is great to share. It has many different languages.

Share it far and wide.

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mmirx · 3 days ago

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Back Again PT. 1

James Wilson x Reader

In which you came back into Wilson's life but at what cost?

Content Warning: reader uses she/her pronouns, bad writing, inaccurate medical stuff, and mentions of blood

Note: This is a first part of this fic and hopefully not the last one! I'll try to write as much as I can though. Lastly, English isn't my first language, so there will be a lot of errors in here—I have no respect for the mentioned language but I do crave for improvement. Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Word Count: 438 words

Three years.

That's how long since you've seen Wilson and it wasn't something you'd like to remember. You remember how you shut the door behind you the moment you left his apartment—one that you shared with him for years. You remember how desperate you were to try to stop the streaming salty drops of tears because you wanted to believe that it didn't hurt. But in actuality, it didn't just pierced through your heart; it shattered every piece of you.

Everything went down, and you knew why.

“I therefore can, so I therefore will,” was the only thing that his friend said as he continued to clutch on it in his chest. They were like middle school boys trying to fight over lunch—though it was House’s fault.

“No, House, you cannot keep doing that,” the head of the oncology department hissed, rolling his eyes as he tried to grab the container labelled with ‘Wilson’s Lunch. Keep out!’

“Wilson, I’ve been trying to page you,” a voice came from behind—it was Cuddy’s. She was trying to poise herself as she looked dishevelled in comparison with her usual self when she finally said: “Y/N’s here.”

“What?”

“Oh, the lawyer ex finally came back to sue you for emotional distress?” House snickered as he continued to eat. Wilson only gave him a scowl as a response before looking back to Cuddy.

“What is she doing here?” he asked nervously, I mean, it isn’t everyday that your ex-girlfriend for years shows up to your workplace, right?

He didn’t know what came over him—he didn’t even hear half of what Cuddy was about to say as he ran towards the ER after hearing that Y/N was rushed in there. For fuck’s sake, he hadn’t heard anything from her for years and this is how he’ll see her again?

There she was, definitely not the same person that he last three years, not with all that blood in her. He didn’t know what to do—how the fuck this did happen? This wasn’t how he imagined reunion, no, it’s nowhere like this.

“What happened?” he managed to ask while his eyes continued to roam over her fragile body that probably lost hefty amount of blood.

“Patient got into a car accident,” a nurse said as they tried to operate on her. “Dr. Wilson, I suggest leaving the ER, now.”

No, he didn’t want to but he knew he had. He knows the protocol but how could he function amidst the scene that is currently in front of him?

But he left, he’s still a doctor. There’s nothing he can do but to wait.

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #james wilson x y/n #james wilson imagine #house md x reader #house md x you #dr cuddy #dr wilson #malpractice md

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 2 days ago

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Whumpuary 2025 10

Prompt: Head injury

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood; injuries; allusions to canonical character death

Everything was happening in blurry fragments, the pain conjuring a deep fog that would pull him under and suffocate him until the next moment when he could see distorted faces, hear their garbled voices. He called Judith’s name; at least, he thought he did. He meant to, needed to know she was safe. The last clear image he could muster was a memory of her on that gurney, unconscious and bleeding.

“Daryl.”

Was it an angel? There was absolutely a light, a silhouette leaning over him just before the pain crested and he could no longer hold on to that partial awareness. He clawed away from submission, scraping against the darkness to no avail. He let go.

“Daryl.”

The angel again. Though his head thrummed in time with his heartbeat, he reveled in the knowledge that he hadn’t died, hadn’t turned. He grasped blindly at recollection, desperately attempting to pull together pieces of the moments before the painful abyss had dragged him away.

He jerked awake with Judith’s name on his lips, your blurry face the first thing to greet him. You were shushing him, holding him in place by his shoulders, but he wasn’t having it. His hold on your wrists was firm but gentle, and you allowed him to dislodge your grip and move you back as he sat up. He grimaced. The thrumming had shifted to a throbbing behind his eyes, the focal point at the right side of his forehead.

Before he could say anything, he heard the sobs to his left, saw the women crowding around a figure on another gurney. His heart stuttered and nearly stopped, fearing it was Jude for the briefest of moments before Magna stepped aside just enough to reveal Luke, his face twisted in pain. He was dying and Daryl felt the imminent loss. But where was—

Turning to his right, he hissed, his hands going to the bandage around his head to tear it off almost angrily. “M’fine.” He dismissed both your and Carol’s attempts at keeping him prone, pushing himself to stand with only the slightest sway. There was no time for weakness, not with so many lives at stake.

When he saw Rick’s daughter lying on that bed, all he could picture was that tiny baby he had held all those years ago, the first to feed her. The birth of Lil’ Asskicker.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, careful not to block his view of Judith.

“How is she?” He asked, his voice broken.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.” You told him, rubbing his upper arms gently before stepping out of his way, any hope of convincing him to rest relinquished. He didn’t let you go far, his hand sliding into yours. It wasn’t just Judith he was worried about. He had left you behind with the others. He hadn’t wanted to, but Judith had needed help. You would have never forgiven him if she had died because of his hesitance. He would have never forgiven himself. He had to try with everything he had to save her.

He couldn’t stop trying.

“I’m gonna give her blood.”

#whumpuary2025 #whumpuaryno10 #head injury #blood #injury #daryl dixon #murda writes #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead

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plumeria1 · 3 hours ago

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More than friendship

Masterlist

Note : Vi and Reader are 17 and 16 years old, respectively, and this takes place before the first season.

Pairing : Teen Vi x Teen Fem Reader

Warning : None

Content : Fluff

Summary : A talk with Vander open Vi's eyes about her feelings for you

Vi had never really been interested in love. Her family was more than enough for her, and taking care of her sister was the most important thing in her eyes.

At least, that's what she thought.

Until you.

When your parents died, Benzo, who was their closest friend, took you under his wing. That's how you met Ekko, who immediately introduced you to his friends.

Vi didn't know what had drawn her to you; maybe it was the way you frowned when Mylo told you a joke that only he found funny, your smile when Powder joyfully showed you what she had just made, or the way you always tucked that strand of hair behind your ear when you turned your head and it fell in front of your eyes.

You had noticed Vi too. It was her pink hair and powder-blue eyes that caught your attention. And then, you had seen her hands. There was some dried blood on the bandages covering her hand; she had surely fought recently.

You got along well, but from time to time, you could see Vi's gaze change when you were alone. Her expression softened. At first, you thought it was your imagination, but it happened far too often to be just a coincidence. There was something else in the way she looked at you, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You thought she looked at you the way she looked at Powder. Vi was a head taller than you, and even though you were only a year younger than her, people often said you looked younger than you actually were.

On her part, Vi didn’t understand what was happening to her; the more time she spent with you, the more she wanted to be close to you. Sometimes, she wished time would stop just to be with you for as long as she wanted.

It was to better understand what was happening to her that she went to see Vander; she had often talked to him about you and the time you spent together, and now more than ever, she needed his advice.

-I don't know what's happening to me. When she's around, I don't want her to leave, and I can't stop thinking about her.

Vander laughed, which was rare, then smiled at her before asking a single question.

-Do you love her?

-Of course, she's my friend. If I didn't like her, I wouldn't spend all my time with her.

-I'm not asking you if you like her, but if you love her?

-What?

Vander set down the glass he was drying and went to sit next to Vi.

-Aren't you in love, by any chance?

She widened her eyes in surprise. What was he talking about? She couldn't be in love with you, you were her best friend, but that was it. Right?

-I'm not in love with her, Vander.

Vander knew very well that she was lying to herself, but he also knew that pushing her was the last thing to do.

-Look, I know it's complicated to understand feelings, especially at your age, but I can recognize love when it's so obvious.

-What should I do then?

-Go see her and tell her everything you feel.

-And what if she rejects me, sees me just as a friend, and I mess everything up?

-If you want my opinion, she wouldn't be so close to you if she didn't feel something for you.

She looked at her feet for a moment before making up her mind; she was going to come see you and tell you everything she felt. She stood up, thanked Vander, then left the bar, determined. She knew where to find you; you were always at Benzo's at this hour, so she hurried to go to his place. Along the way, she asked herself so many questions that she felt like her head was going to explode. Was Vander right? Was she really in love with you?

-Hi Benzo, is—

-She’s in her room.

Vi didn’t think and went straight upstairs, climbing the stairs while thinking about everything she was going to say to you; everything was clear in her mind. It was until you opened the door.

-Vi, what are you doing here?

You were face to face with her, and she found herself speechless, her mind suddenly blank. She could only focus on you.

-I... I...

-Don’t stay here, come in.

You stepped aside to let her in, and she went to sit on your bed. Looking at her, you could see that she seemed really disturbed; you wondered what could have happened to her. Her cheeks were slightly pink, and she didn’t look you in the eyes like she usually did.

-What’s wrong with you? You look weird.

-I need to tell you something.

You frowned when she finally looked at you.

-I like you a lot. Really a lot. I mean, I think about you all the time, and I don’t like it when you leave because I miss you. I talked to Vander, he says that if I feel this way, it’s because I love you and... and I said it wasn’t true, but actually, it is.

-Vi...

-I tried to tell myself that you were just my friend, but Vander is right, and I had to tell you.

When she finished speaking, you noticed that she was on the verge of tears.

-It wasn’t a good idea to come here... pretend I didn’t say anything.

When she started to get up, you grabbed her wrist, making her stop, but she didn’t turn around.

-Can I speak now?

Vi expected you to push her away, to tell her that you didn’t want to see her anymore, but instead, you surprised her. She agreed to listen to you and sat back down on your bed.

The silence was suffocating; it felt like it had lasted for hours. You were staring into space, searching for the right words.

-I tried, you know. That’s why I didn’t come back to see you this week. I thought that if I didn’t see you for a few days, it would pass, and everything would go back to normal.

You let out a little laugh.

-I thought it had worked, but when I saw you, I realized it was all for nothing. What I’m trying to say is that I like you a lot too. I didn’t say anything because... I was afraid that if I tried something, you’d push me away.

You turned to Vi, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. What could she possibly say to you? At a loss for words, she simply took your face gently in her hands, her eyes moving from yours to your lips. She slowly brought her face closer to yours, giving you enough time to push her away if you wanted.

You were the one who closed the gap between you, placing your lips on hers. It was an awkward but sweet first kiss. You had wanted it for a long time; it just took you a while to realize it.

Vi moved away first and rested her forehead against yours, smiling.

-It was...

-Weird?

-A little, but not unpleasant.

You both laughed, and you rested your head on her shoulder.

-And now, what do we do?

-We can do it again. I mean, it's by practicing that we improve.

You laughed because you knew she was avoiding your question, but it didn't bother you; you could wait, and her idea was much more interesting.

This time, it was Vi who initiated the kiss. It was less awkward but just as sweet as the first. You spent the rest of the day talking and kissing until Vi noticed it was getting late and she had to go home. She knew Vander didn’t like his kids staying out on the streets at night.

You walked her to the door and said goodbye with one last kiss before returning to your room.

Later, Vi arrived at the Last Drop and didn’t notice Benzo chatting with Vander over a drink. If she had listened to their conversation, she would have had a funny reaction.

-They took their time.

-Yes, and I won my bet. I had bet that Vi would confess her feelings first, and I was right.

-You cheated. If you hadn't talked to her, she wouldn't have come.

The two men laughed, and eventually, Vander agreed to give up the bet. They talked for a good part of the night before parting ways to rest.

That night, Vi and you fell asleep happy and eager for the next day to see each other again.

#arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane fluff #violet x reader

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adieutristana · 5 hours ago

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barricade; vi x fem!reader

realized how little i’ve written for vi and wanted to fix that. this isn’t based on any particular band but i did listen to dream theater while writing :)

summary; you and vi getting barricade at a concert together.

characters included; vi

tags/warnings; fluff, drinking, mentions of smoking, pitfighter!vi, metalhead!reader, moshing together, typical metal concert stuff

men dni.

the line wraps around the building, bustling with excited fans alike. chatter overlaps, beer cans are swirled around, laughter rings through the air. you're towards the front of the line, having made sure to get to the venue early. this was one of your dream concerts, no way you were risking a shitty spot.

you rock back and forth on the heels of your combat boots excitedly, looking over to your girlfriend. she's got that embroidered leather jacket on with some old bandages across her chest, tight jeans and a pair of boots matching your own. you'd put some black eyeshadow on her beforehand with a bit of silver glitter, though you knew you couldn't overdo it.

your own makeup was light, only some smudged eyeliner and black lipstick. you could've done a full face, but if you knew anything about these kinds of shows, it was that makeup wouldn't last. not through the drinking, the dancing, the moshing, the sweating. you can tell that people around you are getting antsy, the doors were supposed to open ten minutes ago. another thing you knew well at this point was that times on the tickets of these events were simply suggestions.

"aren't they supposed to be letting people in?"

vi whispers, her voice low and lips hovering beside your ear.

"these things never start on time."

you hear a little grumble beside you, but she doesn't put up a fight. you chuckle lightly, giving your girlfriend a playful elbow as you look over at the doors. the venue workers are preparing wristbands and getting out ticket scanners, which should signal the line beginning to move soon.

"shouldn't be much longer now..."

"first in line, ticket and id!"

you hear from one of the employees, and a wide grin finds its way onto your face as you tug on the leather of vi's jacket. the line slowly begins to move, though it's not long before you're at the front and about to be checked. you take your wallet from your pocket, grabbing your id as vi does the same. she'd nearly left her apartment without her id, which you feared would make you both late, but clearly not.

you both step up to a woman working the door as she glances at both of your printed out tickets, then your id cards.

"hands out," she states, before placing a yellow wristband on both yours and vi's left wrist, ushering you to enter the venue. you can feel the excitement really creeping in now, a wide grin on your face as you feel vi loop elbows with you.

"we're really doin' this, huh?"

she nudges, a slight smirk visible on her face. dark hair cascading over her shoulder, slightly longer than you're used to. she looks beautiful, really. you nod quickly, taking in your surroundings. a merch stand near the front of the venue with a line already wrapping around a wall, people lounging in seats strewn across the room, a staircase with a sign above it reading 'restrooms.'

vi takes a moment as well, blue eyes flitting around the concert hall as she hums in approval.

"i've never... been to one of these before."

"i know. i honestly thought you would've," you chuckle, your elbow tugging her a little closer to you. "but i mean, look at you. you fit right in."

you state with a proud smile, very obviously eyeing her up and down for emphasis. the smeared black makeup, the boots, tattered jeans, bandages across her bloodied knuckles, she looked as if she was made for places like these. vi looks around at other concert goers passing the two of you, observing the similarities in attire.

"huh, look at that. i guess i do."

your smile widens, before you spot the bar not far from the stage and begin tugging vi towards it. she lets out a little gasp, but lets herself be led by you regardless. you prop one elbow on the bar, looking over the menu. a few mixed drinks, venue originals, some soft drinks and mocktails... all a bit fancy.

"could we just get two cans of beer?"

vi asks, the bartender giving a firm thumbs-up gesture in response as your girlfriend drops some coins onto the bar. a calloused hand rests on the edge of the bar, and vi looks over to the stage with pursed lips. roadies are setting up various pieces of equipment. a drum set, a guitar, microphone stands, pedals, amps, the like. connecting jumper cables and chatting amongst themselves while pointing to different spots on the stage, as if they're following some kind of blueprint.

the bartender slides two cans of beer across the counter to you, taking vi out of her haze. she grabs one can, leaving the other for you. you glance over to the stage as well. despite the volume of people flooding into the concert hall, there's still a good few spots open in the front row. you nudge vi gently, her eyes flitting back over to you.

"look, there's still some room at the barricade."

you point out, a grin forming. vi peers her head over to look, and notices there are indeed still several spaces. her first show, and she'd be getting barricade? sign her up.

"let's go, then."

vi says, already leading you towards the stage. you eagerly take your spots right behind the metal barricade, and it hits you just how close you are to the stage. the band would be directly in front of you, so close you could almost reach out and touch them- though you had the sense to know not to. it all seemed so surreal. months spent saving up for tickets, looking over fliers and listening to the radio for any news about a tour, and you were finally here. with vi, no less.

nearly front and center. this feels bizarre in the best way possible.

"any idea who's opening?"

vi asks, taking her ticket stub from her pants pocket and reading over the names. you glance over it, your brows knitting together. it was... some band, one you'd never heard of. usually you have some idea of who the opener is, but these people must be completely new to the scene.

"no idea who that is. guess we'll have to see how the music is."

you mutter, looking back over at vi. she shrugs and opens her beer with a loud crack. she takes a swig from her left hand, wrapping her right around your waist and squeezing lightly. you feel a bit of heat creep up your neck towards your cheeks, but try to shrug it off. luckily, your girlfriend seems taken enough with the roadies' work, so she won't notice. for now, at least. your own can remains unopened in your hand, figuring it's for the best to save the drinking for the actual show.

"and vi, i love you, but we are not moving from these spots. if you have to pee after drinking that, you're going by yourself, and coming right back here."

vi chuckles dryly, but nods, taking another sip of her beer.

"you got it, cupcake. no moving."

you give her a light pat on the back, nodding.

"good girl."

the crowd begins to pour in behind you, people gathering behind the stage and on the sides in balconies. idle chatter, laughter, and whatever playlist the venue's dj is playing fill the room with excitement, vi holding you close to her. her lips are slightly pursed, and you can tell that she's growing a bit impatient. your mouth opens to say something, to reassure the girl that it'll start soon. but then, the lights dim, and the crowd goes wild.

"is it starting?"

vi asks, watching as members of the opening band disperse onto the stage. picking up their various instruments, beginning to tune and adjust as needed. rearranging cables, with who you presume is the vocalist taping a set list to the front of the stage.

"yeah, it's starting."

you beam, beginning to dig into your pants pockets. wearing cargo pants might've been cute, but now you couldn't find what you were looking for, too many pockets. maybe you were starting to regret your choice of attire a little- there.

"here, take these," you say, holding up a pair of earplugs to vi. "trust me. with how close we're standing to the stage, you won't be able to hear a thing tomorrow."

vi slowly takes the earplugs, popping the foam into her ears as the room goes blackout, save for blue and purple stage lights. you prop one elbow on the cold metal in front of you before cracking open your own beer, taking a sip while watching the band announce themselves. the crowd roars, and the first chords of their song fills the room.

the opener comes and goes- only a thirty minute set, though lackluster. compared to the headliner, you'd think they'd have an equally exciting opening act, but apparently not. but it was also obvious how nervous and new the members were to performing.

"that sucked. i swear, the main act will be better."

"they're just kids, babe." vi responds, hand still firm on your waist. she gives you a gentle squeeze. "don't be like that."

you roll your eyes in mock annoyance, but know vi is right. probably some new band of academy kids, or maybe one of the members has a parent who made it big. either way, they looked scared out of their minds on stage. but it would come with time, you supposed. only about thirty minutes until the headliner comes on, you figure.

you lean over to press a chaste kiss to one of vi's black-streaked cheeks, pulling back with a small grin.

"thanks for coming with me, by the way."

vi shakes her head quickly, her voice a bit raised over the sound of the crowd and music the dj has put back on.

"don't mention it. you wanted me to come, so here i am."

you chuckle lightly, sighing as you lean your head against vi's shoulder. swirling the beer left in your can, tapping one of your feet.

"you're a real sweetheart, vi."

"only for you, darlin'."

your smile widens the slightest bit, before your lips brush vi's cheek once more and you rest her head on your shoulder. not long until the main act, now. the people around you are clearly getting excited, chanting the name of the band and raising lighters in anticipation. it's something that's always gotten to you, the rush of live music. how authentic it is, the fact that you're transported to another world if only for one night.

the lights dim once again, and you hear cheers from all directions- even vi raising her beer can to welcome the artists on stage. the band announces themselves, playing the first few chords of the set. you glance behind you, and the telltale circle for a mosh pit is already beginning to form. you nudge vi's shoulder excitedly, tilting your head to gesture for her to look back.

"what's that?"

"huh?"

you ask. it's suddenly much harder to hear much of anything over the bass.

"what's that?!"

she repeats herself, bordering on yelling.

"oh! a mosh pit!"

vi makes an 'o' shape with her mouth, before turning back to you, her brows furrowed. part of vi looks almost... afraid, for some reason. people in the middle of a circle, running into each other, flailing their arms, punching and kicking. chaos in the best possible way, people enjoying themselves and the music. if one thing's for certain, it's that this crowd has energy.

"let's go in!"

you're practically bouncing on your toes and already beginning to gently pull vi's arm backward. she resists at first, shaking her head.

"come on. you don't have to if you don't want to, but it'll be fun!"

you say, releasing your hold on vi's arm. she presses her lips into a thin line before looking back at the stage, then pauses. it's like something shifted in her mind. suddenly, vi is dropping her now-empty beer can on the ground and crushing it under her heel before taking your arm, striding over to the pit. she instantly begins dancing. some kind of odd rhythm, kicking her legs under her and running around, following the example of others. again, it's amazing to you how vi hasn't been to one of these before.

you jump in soon after, facing a few jabs and kicks, yet it's all part of the thrill. music lovers coming together to let loose, be wild. you're giggling, adrenaline (and alcohol) pumping through your veins. this has to be better than shimmer, it's better than a night out at the last drop or an impromptu joyride. better than half the shit the world has to offer, that other people find joy in. this is it.

a squeal escapes you before tripping over yourself in the pit, only to be lifted back up by the shoulders by another concert-goer.

"you okay?"

she asks, concern etched on her face. you nod frantically, your breath escaping you in quick pants.

"yeah... yeah! i'm good! thank you!"

before going right back to moshing, finding your way back to vi. your movements nearly sync up, and vi is wearing a toothy grin. it's amazing to see her so carefree. so relaxed, and so in her element. she's truly a natural at this, and in this moment, the connection between you and your girlfriend is so much greater than you could've thought possible.

vi's hair is all over the place, sticking to her sweaty forehead and neck. her jacket is nearly falling off of one of her shoulders, and a bruise is beginning to form on that same shoulder. someone must've accidentally hit her in the pit. but you swear, she's never looked so beautiful. the song comes to a close, with the crowd stilling and lighting up in applause. you quickly intertwine your fingers with vi's and maneuver your way back to your spot at the barricade. beaming.

the next song comes and goes, and the energy in the venue only increases. it's multiple times that you and vi both have your chests pressed against the cold metal in front of you due to the sheer force of the pit, helping along crowd surfers and cheering so loud, you may not have your voice the next day.

"that's what i'm fucking talking about!"

you cheer, a guitar solo ringing through the air. the guitarist shoots you a knowing smile, and you almost can't believe your eyes.

"vi! vi! did you see that? she smiled at me!"

"i saw it, cupcake."

she chuckles, shaking her head slowly in amusement. the rest of the show goes quicker than you would've liked for it to, but at the very least you get to mosh alongside your girlfriend a few more times. you get to steal quick kisses between songs, and you get to hold your hands up in the air as you cheer. it's electrifying.

"so- how was that for a first concert?"

you ask, turning to vi as you prepare to make your way out of the venue. without second thought, she's got her arm wrapped around you again as you begin to walk.

"awesome."

she says, matter-of-fact.

"just 'awesome?"

"it was great," she clarifies, with a playful roll of her eyes. "a lot of fun. i was a bit nervous going into this thing, but damn, i wouldn't mind going to another."

a wide grin spreads across your face, taking vi's elbow and squeezing her closer to you.

"i'll have to hold you to that, then."

she lets out a satisfied sigh as you step out into the night air, the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey filling your senses. people are already gathered outside chatting, playing games, maybe having some kind of impromptu after-party.

"oh, and one more thing," vi says, before reaching into her pants pocket and handing you a folded white sheet of paper. "managed to snag this."

you furrow your brows for a moment, taking the sheet into your hands and slowly unfolding it, before your eyes blow wide. a set list.

"holy shit!" you exclaim, eyes locked on vi. "how did you get this?"

she giggles, crossing her arms over her bandaged chest. shrugging her shoulders as if to say it was nothing.

"i got it while you weren't looking. neat, right?"

all you can think to do in that moment is take her cheeks in your hands and pull her in for a kiss, pressing your lips to hers in such genuine excitement.

"'neat' is an understatement, my gods!"

#vi x reader #arcane x you #arcane x reader #reader insert #sapphic

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waynes-multiverse · 2 days ago

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I see you've successfully saved the glorious Ross gif 🤣

Ahaha I love this mention! 😂

At least he's feeling well enough to eat again and stopped destroying the office lol

Ha! I love her, she's such a badass.~

Hahaha I was considering if it was too much, but I could totally see her going at it again. She's definitely a "goes down swinging" kinda type lol

Btw, everytime I work in a Friends reference I think of you like "Aww, Alex will get this" 😂🫶

Ugh, she's so much stronger than me. I'd be a blubbering mess on the floor, poor thing. 😭😭

Oooh, I don't know about that. I think we can surprise ourselves in those situations ☺️ (She also had the advantage of sorta being prepared for it due to all the videos she's seen)

But yeah, she'd kill any escape room after this 😂

I love those moments where you as the audience know there's an answer here somewhere, but you just have to watch on edge as the person works it out in desperation. 🥲

Aah, same! I love these little moments where you just sit there, biting your nails, and hope they make it 🙈

And on the flip side, this is torture for Beau, a man of action, to not be able to do anything. To just wait and see if anything changes.

Lmao yes! He was going a bit nutty again when she was just saving her energy till she figured it out 😅

This is so truly intense -- it's cinematic in so many ways, and I'm loving this suspense...

I truly worked ages on this scene 😅 I usually hate writing action and prefer dialogue, but I tried challenging myself with this one lol

GAH! This is the delicious White Knight-saving angst that I live for. 🥹

I loved writing this so much! 😍 We all know reader is clearly a strong badass, but even she needs a little saving sometimes (or big one in this case lol)

Lmaoo this kind of pudding??

Hahaha yes 😂 Exactly what I had been thinking of

Aww in a way I do still feel bad for Randy, but "dissolved;" I think that's the right word for it as well. I love that last line in the scene. 💙

They at least parted on good terms. And yeah, definitely hard for Randy. He lost his wife and his best friend in one day 🥲

But he can move on now and find his own happiness again ❤️‍🩹

Awww haha, they're so cute!! I would've loved to see that reunion kiss. 🥹 But I have a feeling these two are finally off to their happy ending...

Haha honestly I completely forgot about the reunion kiss in a way. That whole rescue scene took me tf out. The happy ending kinda became a blurry, blissful bubble afterward 😂

I kinda liked the open ending in the hospital and then showing them in a "sitting on the porch together" kinda way 🥰🥹💕

Lol that is peak Beau behavior there! I love the rambling and the adorable fussing. Makes my heart so full. ❤️ Especially how she's just like, "sit down and be with me, you fool." 😂

Reader was definitely in a super chill, zen state (must be the near death experience) and Beau's fussing was disturbing her peace lol

I also found it very interesting how they both decided to retire. They've clearly been through the absolute wringer, plus the whole matter of Beau probably never feeling safe in that office again, and the reader needing time upon time to recover from all that trauma. It's a lovely new chapter for these two to have a quieter life together, whether or not they have kids down the line (though I love that conversation they had. Beau's line of “Look, I’m already retiring from the job – I don’t wanna retire from life,” had me dead lol). 🥹

There was a lot of "we've done the work, but we know what matters most" weaved into their conversation and decisions. They're just ready at this point to enjoy life and each other and avoid all the other crap 😅 (So happy you liked that line, tho! I thought it was so fitting for him to say 💚)

Thank you so much for all your sweet, insightful, and funny comments and reblogs, Alex!! 🥹🫶 Part of the fun of sharing stories here on tumblr for me is always the theories, the clues, the jokes, the ramblings, and the thirsting (lol) we get to exchange with our peers, so thank you for indulging me yet again 🤍

Polaris – Chapter 13

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, major angst, kidnapping, confined spaces, violence, injuries, drowning, CPR, life-and-death situations, the fluffiest ending (If any of these warnings trigger you, stay away ⚠️🫶)

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: We're here! Last part, babes 😘 Thank you guys so much for sticking with me on this one. I know it was another wild ride, but I appreciated your sweet, insightful, and funny comments throughout 🥹🤍

Ready? Don't forget to breathe 😉

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

“What’s she doing?”

With a mouthful of Donno’s Special of the Day sandwich, Beau came to stand behind a whole group of people who had gathered around a laptop screen propped up on his desk.

He threw another sandwich wrapped in paper on the desk in front of Randy, who sat comfortably in his chair and nodded a ‘thank you.’ Behind him, Jenny leaned casually against the window sill with an intensely knitted brow. Cassie and Denise, on the other hand, had grabbed themselves a set of uncomfortable, worn chairs from the break room and sat on each side of Randy, staring musingly at the screen.

“I think she’s meditating,” Denise put forth.

“No, I think she’s sleeping,” Jenny said dryly.

“I don’t know…” Cassie’s brow furrowed.

Beau frowned as he stepped forward, stealing a glance at the livestream himself. You were still lying perfectly motionless on the long metal table in the middle of the room. They knew you were alive, though. They had watched you crawl up there and lie down. Sometimes, your eyes were open. Sometimes, they were closed for long periods of time.

“She’s still doing what she’s been doing for eight hours now,” Beau huffed. Honestly, he’d be more worried if it wasn’t so damn frustrating.

“Maybe the poor thing’s in shock after everything she’s been through,” Denise suggested sympathetically.

Beau hoped she wasn’t right. Seeing you give up didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t watch you lie there alone in the cold until there was no air left anymore.

In all honesty, he had a confession to make: He’d never watched a single of Diane’s videos to the end. He knew you’d probably watched them a thousand times, but he couldn’t do it. He had watched parts of it, sure, but never the bitter end. He didn’t know how you'd done it. He always figured you were a lot stronger than him.

But maybe you’d seen something on those videos he didn’t know but had to.

“Y/N?” Randy scoffed at Denise’s proposal with conviction and shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t give up, and I doubt Turner scared her that much. She put a screwdriver in the guy, for crying out loud,” he argued his objection. “No, she’s thinking.”

Beau hated to agree with Randy but hoped to hell he was right.

“Maybe,” Cassie mused and squinted her eyes at the screen. “I think she’s staring at the light above her.”

With narrowed eyes, everyone drew in closer to the screen and observed you.

“I think Cass is right,” Jenny said and retreated to her old position, smirking.

Beau frowned anew and flailed his arms. “Why?”

Fucking Hal Turner.

He got you with a shovel, tied your hands, hauled you back to the cabin and sedated you.

You woke with a few meager slaps across your face before groggily being dragged through the woods at night on unsteady legs. You slipped in and out of consciousness a few times, but you knew Turner wasn’t strong enough to carry you, so he had to keep you awake enough to walk, but sedated enough to not fight back.

You, however, tried to memorize and plan as much as your dazed mind possibly let you. You remembered how long you’d walked from the cabin to the bunker – about thirty minutes. You knew which direction you’d walked as you’d glanced up at the stars – north. And you knew you had hiked slightly up, but not more than twelve degrees. You remembered the faint sounds of a river splashing close by.

Most importantly, you could still feel the screwdriver tucked into your sock in your left boot.

Turner hadn’t frisked you again – big mistake.

As soon as you’d reached the spot of the supposed bunker, you frowned when Turner removed a pile of leaves, moss and dirt from the forest floor and opened the metal hatch that hid underneath.

Oh, hell no…

You weren’t getting in there. If you hadn’t known it before, you surely knew it now.

You would’ve been fine with the cabin because you knew Beau and the department would eventually find it. He’d get a list of their properties and find it. Denise had been in charge of those, and she’d been meticulous.

You would’ve been fine with an above-ground bunker, or even halfway above, too. Once the team would find the cabin, they’d know Turner and you couldn’t have gone far. They’d find the blood and test it, realizing with relief that most of it wasn’t yours. They’d know you’d be in the general area, and Beau would move heaven and earth to find you.

But this thing? They’d never fucking find you here.

Roughly, Turner shoved you down the tight metal stairway, leading to a room you knew only too well from videos. Now, you were here and saw it all for real, like glimpsing behind the scenes of a movie set.

Why couldn’t it have been the Friends set in Hollywood? Instead, you had to visit Diane Newton’s arts and crafts project.

Hal Turner cut your ties – again. And you saw it as your perfect way to escape. Again.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

With your elbows and shoulders, you shoved Turner backwards and bent down, quickly retrieving the screwdriver from your boot. You spun around and thrust it straight into his left carotid artery.

He gasped a breathless sound, his eyes growing wide and white. You let go and stepped back.

You’d never killed someone before – not like this at least.

But then Turner inhaled a deep breath of air – strained, angry, fighting. And you finally understood where the phrase white-hot rage stemmed from.

The roaring Grizzly kicked you right into your bear trap injury. With a painful scream and a searing pain, you fell to your knees and clasped your wound.

He then fled up the stairs like a rat through a sewer cover, tossing the hatch shut behind him. There was the sound of a thick lock before some shuffling followed. At least he couldn’t have done a good job on covering up the entrance. Maybe they’d find you easier this way.

Better yet, you hoped Turner would succumb to his fatal injury not too far from the hatch. If they found his body close by, they could find you too, right?

At least you’d gotten the bastard…

You wanted to scream till your lungs were depleted of all oxygen, but you didn’t have enough air for a breakdown in this bunker. You took one last deep breath to ground yourself and closed your eyes.

Then, you opened them.

The bright neon light flickered above as your eyes darted around the room. The space was sparse, concrete walls peeling in places, as though even the structure was trying to escape. You didn’t want to think too much about how long you would be trapped here.

You already knew this place by heart and what would happen if you didn’t get out.

At the edge of the corner, sat a row of rusty metal lockers. Shuffling over on your good leg, you opened the shrieking door and found that the lockers held various odds and ends – tools, cans, an assortment of chemical bottles with faded labels, and a single, cracked lightbulb resting on its side.

The other victims had received these items as well but never pieced enough of it together to escape. A few drank the chemical bottles for a quicker death out of sheer desperation. While you unfortunately couldn’t solve Diane’s little riddle either, you swore to yourself poison would never be a last resort.

You’d seen those deaths – they had neither been quick nor painless.

You found a first-aid kit as well and lowered yourself to the cold ground, bandaging your ankle. As you tightened the bandage to stop the blood flow, your eyes glanced up the shelves.

Your breath hitched. In the back of your mind, a vague memory from your 7th grade science teacher stirred – something about pressure, something about triggering a chain reaction. You tried to push it away but the thought wouldn’t leave. Maybe an escape was possible after all. There were things you could use – you just needed to figure out how.

The jar of white powder caught your eye. It was too fine to be salt. The label was half-scratched off, but you could make out the word "sulfate." Next to it, a small container of copper wiring lay scattered across the shelf – tiny, thin strands coiled tightly like little snakes, their sharp ends glinting in the harsh neon light.

You pulled at your sleeves nervously, staring at the broken lightbulb once more. If you twisted it carefully, the filament inside would snap. Maybe. Then there was the sharp wire… You let the idea float in your mind for just a moment longer before shaking it off.

And there was that other thing. Something buried deeper in the corner, an oily rag, half-soaked in a pungent smell you couldn’t quite place. You made a mental note. They weren’t much, but they were something.

If you could just piece it all together…

Tiredly, you heaved yourself onto the large metal table in the middle of the room. It was harsh, cold, and uncomfortable, but it was all you had. You lied down on your back and stared at the ceiling, at the flickering neon light above you. Then, you closed your eyes again.

Think, think, think…

For hours, Beau had now stared at the grainy footage, watching your unmoving form. The neon light flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the cold, cement walls of the bunker. His hands were trembling as he gripped the armrests of his chair, his body taut with the weight of helplessness.

The others had left his office a while ago, scrambling to find a way to get you out. There was a search going on, a team of skilled rescuers turning over every stone in the general vicinity of the cabin. Beau knew you couldn’t be far from there. And still, he feared he wouldn’t find you in time.

Truthfully, he knew the only one that could get you out was you. If you just stopped lying there…

Nothing. Not even a twitch. What the hell were you thinking about?

You were alive. He knew you were, reminding himself of that fact on an hourly basis. But for all the good it did, it didn’t matter. The silence on the feed was more suffocating than any sound.

But then…

A subtle movement. A shift in the shadows, so slight that at first, he thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him.

His heart skipped.

Your fingers twitched, just enough to catch his attention. And then, slowly, agonizingly, you dragged yourself up, struggling to sit. He watched the quiet shuffle of your body across the concrete floor. You were alive. You were still fighting.

“Guys!” his gruff voice called loudly for the cavalry, but he didn’t wait for them to flood into his office.

Beau leaned forward in his chair, holding his breath. His heart hammered in his chest as you lifted your head, your eyes flicking briefly to the camera – aware. You knew he was watching.

Your movements were shaky, too weak for anything swift, but they were purposeful. You scanned the room with desperation. The broken lightbulb in the rusty locker, jagged glass fragments scattered on the shelf, caught your attention.

You reached for it.

Beau’s stomach twisted. No, don’t…

But it was too late. You pressed the sharp edge against the skin of your palm, wincing with the effort as blood began to bead at the surface. His breath hitched, fingers curling into fists at his sides. The blood flowed in slow, steady streams, painting your hand.

You didn’t flinch.

You moved with a practiced precision, grimly intent. With shaky fingers, you scooped some blood on your pointer finger and pressed the pad to the wall, your arm trembling as you began to write.

Seismograph.

Beau’s eyes locked onto the word, his brow furrowing.

Seismograph?

You were so weak. You could barely hold yourself up, and yet, you were still thinking. Still trying. Then you turned to the wall once more, collecting more blood on your finger as you struggled to form the second word.

3 hours.

You stopped then, your body slumping against the wall, too drained to write any more. You didn’t need to. The message was clear.

The feed cut to static for a brief moment, the camera buzzing with distortion, before it returned to the silent, unchanging image of your still form against the wall. But Beau wasn’t looking at you anymore.

His mind raced, blood thundering in his ears. Seismograph. 3 hours.

A tremor ran through him – an earthquake in his chest.

Seismograph. You were giving him a clue. Something seismic. A signal of some kind. His gut twisted. He was supposed to know what it meant.

3 hours. What did that mean? Three hours before something? Three hours after something?

He didn’t have time to analyze it. You were sending him a lifeline. And whatever it meant, he was going to find you.

“What’s going on?” Jenny was the first to thunder into his office, her heart beating fast in her ribcage. She came to stand behind Beau and glanced at the screen, her brow knitting at the crimson words on the concrete wall in the same way his had. “Seismograph. 3 hours,” the blonde read aloud. “What does it mean?”

Cassie stood quietly in the doorframe, listening and thinking. “What is in those lockers?”

“I don’t know. We never found a bunker before, and Diane sure as hell ain’t telling us,” Beau huffed frustratedly.

“But there are chemicals of some kind,” Jenny pointed out, squinting her eyes at the laptop.

“Maybe she’s building a bomb,” Cassie proposed.

Beau pondered the theory for a beat. Then, he nodded. “We already know the area of the bunker. We could probably find her exact location through the tremors.”

“With a seismograph,” Jenny finished the thought. “Well, let’s hope she doesn’t blow herself up first.”

Beau hoped that, too. He didn’t even know you possessed bomb-making skills, but he figured you hadn’t known that fact about yourself either. This was by far not a thoroughly planned undertaking.

“Alright, get a damn seismograph here. I don’t care where you get it or what it costs. We’ve got three hours,” Beau barked his orders with a racing heart.

Your message had just bought him time, and he wasn’t going to waste it. You were still alive. He could still save you. And he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

Your breath came in short, labored gasps as you hunched over the crude metal table in the dark, sterile bunker. The faint hum of the camera feeding into the livestream echoed through the silence, the red light blinking softly as its lens captured your every movement, broadcasting your quiet panic.

You knew Beau was watching. They all probably were. You could almost feel their eyes on you, their silent judgment, their hope that this would work. They’d see the sweat glistening on your brow, the faint tremor in your hands as you worked on your little science fair project.

But it wasn’t fear that made you shake now. It was the cold certainty that time was running out.

You carefully twisted the wire around the small, makeshift device you’d cobbled together from the limited supplies at your disposal. Every movement was deliberate, every breath controlled, even as your mind raced a marathon. You lifted the device to your ear, listening for the faint click as you tightened the final screw. Done.

The one thing they had to get right was the seismic readings.

The bomb was crude – imperfect – but it was all you had. The plan was simple: blow the door open if you could, cause a seismic tremor, and hope the team could triangulate your location. They would track the explosion on the seismograph, find your coordinates, and come for you.

If you were lucky.

Maybe you should leave another message behind for him. In those hours you had lain on the table and pondered, you had thought about your escape. You had also thought about various torturous ways to kill Diane. You had celebrated your little win against Turner. But most of all, you had thought about Beau.

Simple things. The color of his pine green eyes. The smell of his leathery cologne. The sound of his hearty laugh. The warmth of his large hands. Would you ever see, hear, or feel those things again?

A tear streaked your cheek that you swiftly wiped away. Sobbing would cost you too much goddamn air. You couldn’t afford it.

You stole one last glance at the camera, your face a grim mask of resolve. Then you moved quickly, setting the device in place. You looked at the door on top of the steps – solid metal, bolted shut, impossible to open without the right tools.

Tools you didn’t have.

You hurried down the stairs and pushed the metal table onto its side, using it as a shield from the blast as you hunched down low behind it. It had been a little over three hours. It was time. With a sharp breath, you pushed the button of the remote detonator.

The explosion hit like a fist. The sound was deafening, but muffled in the confined space. Your ears rang as the shockwave slammed into you, throwing you back against the cold, unforgiving concrete wall. Your head spun, and for a moment, everything went black.

Then came the tremor.

It rippled through the ground like a violent pulse. The bunker groaned – metal creaking, concrete cracking. The lights flickered and went out, plunging you into near-total darkness, save for the dim emergency glow above the door.

And then, with a deep, bone-rattling crack, something shifted above you.

You scrambled to your feet, disoriented. What the hell was that?

A series of sharp, cracking sounds echoed from the ceiling, followed by a wet, muffled splintering. Your breath caught in your throat as a large root – gnarled and thick as a limb – suddenly pierced through the bunker’s ceiling, splintering the metal and concrete. The roots of a large tree slithered down – a slow, creeping thing – and it didn’t stop. It tore through the ceiling like it had been waiting for this moment, its jagged edges scraping against the walls.

And then – water. Cold, relentless water began pouring in, cascading through the new hole in the roof, spilling across the floor in an uncontrolled flood.

Fuck.

Your heart pounded wildly as you stumbled backward, the water already rising around your ankles, creeping steadily toward your knees. You could hear the steady drip of water splashing against the cold, metal floor, each drop sending a ripple through your chest.

The livestream camera remained on, the blinking red light still steady, but your mind was running a mile a minute – panic rising like a tidal wave. You had no time. You had to move, had to act. But the water was already rising faster than you could think. The air was thick, the walls seemed to be closing in on you, and the roots above groaned ominously as if the earth itself was about to swallow you whole.

You ran toward the door, your boots splashing through the growing puddle. But aside from causing a giant hole in the ceiling, the bomb hadn’t done enough damage to escape. The root’s tendrils were still creeping down from above, twisting around the ceiling. You could hear the scrape of it, its thick fingers reaching into the dark corners of the room.

The sound of the water filled your ears as it surged up around your waist. You stumbled, falling to one knee as the icy liquid engulfed you. Your chest tightened, panic clawing at your throat.

It was too much. The explosion, the quake, the roots, and now the rising water – everything was converging at once. A part of you knew this was it. You wouldn’t get out. They wouldn’t get here in time to save you. But a small flicker of hope was still alive in your heart.

You clutched the camera’s wire, the blinking red light still visible in the murk, as if it was the last lifeline you had left.

“Please,” you breathed, although you knew they couldn’t hear you, but your voice was barely audible over the rush of water anyways. “Please, find me.”

The woods were dense, the trees thick with fog and shadows. Beau ran through the underbrush, his boots pounding against the damp earth, the scent of pine and wet leaves filling his lungs. Sweat stung his green eyes, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he pushed his body beyond its limits. His heart thundered in his chest, not from the exertion, but from the terror building inside him, growing with each passing second.

He’d found it.

The seismograph had done its job. The tremor from the explosion had sent ripples through the earth, and in those ripples, he’d pinpointed the location. There was no time to think, no time to second-guess. He didn’t know how much time you had left, but the second the signal went off and the icy water of a nearby river had wound its way into the confined space, rising like a tide as it flooded the bunker, he’d known it could only be minutes till you took your last breath.

Beau’s mind reeled at the thought.

He stumbled over a fallen log, his eyes never leaving the ground ahead of him. He was so close. It had to be here. He had seconds to make it. He knew it had to be deep. The bunker was buried beneath the forest floor, hidden like a trap, and there was only one way in: a hatch maybe, barely visible among the trees, the earth heavy with moss and years of neglect. He had to get there – now.

He could hear the team searching all around him, crying with calls of your name that echoed through the trees. As he stared up through the tops of the towering pines, he could see the North Star twinkling brightly above him. His heart twinged. His gaze dropped and then landed on the far beam of his flashlight. Something flickered in the distance, just a few yards away from him, buried in the moss.

He stumbled back onto his feet, his trembling hands picking up a small, golden band. His chest seized.

The ring.

His ears picked up the babbling sounds of water. The river was close, only a few feet away. That had to be it. You’d left him another sign.

Grabbing his flashlight, his hands hastily searched the ground. His fingers brushed a thick patch of bramble, and then – there. His breath halted. Metal.

The hatch.

He skidded to a stop, his hands shaking as he dropped to his knees and cleared the leaves and brush away. The metal was a bit busted and bent out of shape, probably from the bomb, but the bolt that kept it tightly shut was still in tact. His fingers fumbled for the lock, every second stretching longer than the last.

“It’s here!” Beau yelled loudly, calling the others for help. “She’s here!”

His mind kept circling back to you. You were trapped down there. Trapped and drowning.

I’m coming, darlin’. Hold on.

Finally, his fingers found the latch, and with a metallic groan, the hatch creaked open.

The stench of damp earth hit him first – the cold, stagnant air of a place that had been shut off from the world for too long. His flashlight flickered as he shined it down into the narrow opening. The steps below were steep, the darkness absolute. He could hear the distant drip of water, and with it, a rising sense of urgency.

He didn’t waste time. Without a second thought, he grabbed the flashlight and began to descend, the metal of the hatch scraping against the edges of the door as he pulled it wide open. His breath caught as he stepped into the narrow stairwell.

The moment he hit the bottom, the sound of rushing water was unmistakable.

The tunnel was flooded. The water was rising fast, covering the floor in murky, black waves. The small concrete room at the base of the stairs had become a watery tomb, the level inching toward the ceiling.

He shouted your name, his voice crackling in the damp air.

But there was no answer.

Beau pushed forward, his heart in his throat, eyes scanning every inch of the flooded room. Your presence was all he could feel – your spirit, your strength, your last message. He had to find you.

A sudden thud echoed through the chamber, the faint sound of something – or someone – shifting beneath the water.

Beau’s eyes locked on the back wall of the room, where the water was thickest, swirling around a pile of debris. His mind screamed. The seconds were melting away, and he couldn’t afford to waste a single one.

The wall was crumbling under the pressure, but the thing that struck him wasn’t just the damage. It was the stillness. There was no movement. No air.

His pulse spiked as he waded through the rising water, kicking through the murk with his boots, moving faster now, hands trembling as he shoved aside debris.

Please, please, please…

And then, beneath the surface, a hand – limp, floating like a ghost. Beau lunged, his fingers brushing against your wrist, cold and unyielding.

He cried your name again, his voice hoarse with panic as he pulled you to him, cradling your body against his chest.

Your skin was ice-cold. Your hair matted against your face, your body limp in his arms. You were unconscious – or worse.

Don’t you dare be dead. Don’t you dare.

Beau’s breath came in harsh bursts, his hands fumbling against you, trying to find any sign of life. The water was rising too fast.

He wasn’t going to lose you. Not like this.

With a single, desperate motion, he hoisted you into his arms. He didn’t stop. His feet pounded the water-soaked concrete as he bolted back toward the stairs, his lungs burning, the world blurring around him.

Get out. Get out.

He could feel the water rising behind him, flooding the room with the force of a tide. He didn’t know if the two of you would make it. He didn’t know if he could make it.

But he was going to try. He was going to fight like hell to keep you alive.

The hatch was there, just ahead, the only way out. He pushed harder, faster, as the water reached his knees, then his waist. Every breath was a battle. Every second felt like an eternity.

With one final push, he reached the top of the stairs, stumbling out into the fresh air, gasping for breath, his legs weak beneath him. He laid you on the ground, your limp body draped across the earth.

Beau’s hands were shaking as he knelt beside you. “Darlin’,” he whispered, shaking you gently.

Nothing.

Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his ear to your chest, listening for any sign of life.

A faint, fragile beat.

You were still with him.

He could barely breathe, panic threatening to swallow him whole, but he knew he had to keep it together.

He leaned over your body, his hands moving quickly. “Come on, darlin’. Come on…” His voice cracked as he positioned his hands, interlocking his fingers over your sternum. He gave two hard compressions, the sound of his palms meeting your chest too loud in the thick silence.

Still nothing. Your skin was frozen, your lips tinged blue.

His breath hitched, and he started again – one, two, three…

His heart hammered in his chest as he leaned down, pinching your nose and sealing his mouth over yours. He breathed into you, feeling the faint rise of your chest beneath him.

Please, please, don’t leave me.

He gave you another breath, then returned to the chest compressions – one, two, three…

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, each moment more desperate than the last. His hands moved faster, his fingers slick with water and sweat as he pressed into you again and again. He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t.

He hadn’t even taken note of the crowd that had gathered around him, watching the dire spectacle.

Finally – after what felt like a lifetime – your body jerked beneath his hands. You gasped, a harsh, ragged breath, and Beau nearly collapsed in relief. He cradled your head gently, his green eyes searching your face as you coughed weakly, water spilling from your mouth.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he breathed into your hair, his voice thick with emotion and eyes filled with tears as he kissed your crown repeatedly, his hold tight around your body.

You opened your eyes, just a sliver at first, and then you blinked, your hand weakly reaching for his cheek before it dropped to his chest.

“Beau…” you whispered, your voice barely a breath before you let out the first few sobs and coiled against him.

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

And for the first time in days, Beau let himself breathe as he steadied your trembling frame in his embrace.

Hospitals weren’t your favorite thing in the world. In fact, you had pretty much avoided them your whole life. You’d screamed your way through your tonsils surgery when you were five. You refused to get your broken arm cast when you were fourteen. But there was one thing you had always cherished during your involuntary stays:

Pudding.

Randy was the first person that stopped by early in the morning. You didn’t know if that decision had been a collusive one, agreed upon by the whole team, but you were grateful for the visit – more grateful when he brought you your sweet treat.

Something had been going on, though, while you were locked up – you could tell. As you’d clung to Beau’s chest last night in the forest, you caught Randy in the crowd around you before he ducked his head and retreated into the shadows. Your heart broke at the sight.

Beau didn’t leave your side, though, even riding in the ambulance with you while reassuring you throughout. He held your hand tightly, but his shoulders were stiff. And when they wheeled you out of the emergency room, the doors closed in front of him. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since.

You’d only slept for about five hours, but it had been a deep slumber. You had been out like a light. But as soon as you woke, you felt the aches of your body. There wasn’t a single limb or organ that didn’t groan in pain. Your ankle was the worst, though – the doctors told you you were lucky you got to keep it by the degree of infection it had suffered. The murky water of the river surely hadn’t helped cleaning it.

Sepsis, hypothermia, drowning, and lifelong trauma were just a few of the things you had to recover from.

There was also the dissolution of your marriage – you’d finally found the right term. Not widowed, not divorced – dissolved.

Randy stayed for three hours, and you had an honest and long talk. Oddly enough, being in his presence didn’t feel strange anymore. It felt familiar.

While your brain had adjusted, your heart remained steadfast. Randy had recognized it too and conceded. When he left your bedside, you sent him a smile with tears brimming in your eyes.

A chapter closed. A song ended. But your heart was at peace.

Beau’s heart pounded furiously in his chest as he stood glued outside your hospital room. Every laugh that echoed through the door felt like a gut punch.

Randy had asked to speak to you first. Beau had granted him the request – not that it had been really up to him. But Randy had been gracious last night, and the sheriff knew it couldn’t have been easy.

Beau had arrived at the hospital around noon, only to find you and Randy were still talking. Not only talking but laughing. While his heart murmured a tiny bit, he supposed it was a good sign. Who said you had to throw plates or the occasional vase at each other?

Twenty minutes later, Randy finally exited and ran straight into Beau around the corner, who had leaned against the wall and tried to answer the many nosy questions of the group chat. He didn’t know why the hell Cassie had invited him into this one…

“Oh, hey.” Randy chuckled lightly as he bumped into Beau, eyeing him with a suspicious brow. There was the flash of a smirk on his face.

Eager, are we? Beau could read Randy thoughts, even though his former friend refrained from saying them out loud.

“Hey.” Beau’s voice was low. He swallowed thickly as he tried his hardest not to avert his gaze to the linoleum flooring. “How is she?”

“In good spirits,” Randy replied but then paused. “For now. I think the morphine’s kicking in.”

“So, uhm–”

Beau didn’t know where that sentence would end. Flat-out asking Randy how your conversation went would’ve just been pathetically nosy – and rude. His mama had raised him better than that.

“I’m going back to Houston,” Randy still answered the unasked question.

“With, uhm–” Your name hung on the tip of Beau’s tongue before he bit down, noting Randy’s shaking head.

“Don’t push it.”

“Right…” Beau smacked his lips and cleared his throat, his hand scratching the nape of his neck. “So, what about you and me, huh? I know right now’s a stretch, but maybe down the road we could grab a beer?”

Randy’s lips pursed at first – unsure. But after a beat passed, he nodded slightly. “Maybe, yeah.” He hesitated. “Hit me up if you’re ever in Houston, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Beau’s lips twitched to a smile of surprise, but he still wished there was more he could do, more he could offer. It didn’t feel enough. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Randy gave him a tight-lipped nod and patted him on the shoulder as he passed him. “You too.”

Beau watched Randy angle towards the elevators before exhaling a deep breath. Green eyes then drifted to your door. His heart was both elated and heavy. Questions circled in his mind.

What now?

The case was as good as over. Would you leave now? Where would you go? Beau knew your home was in Houston. Should he move back there, too? Would you even want him to? He’d broken up with you. Again. Were you still mad at him for it? He had tried to restrain himself last night, not knowing where the two of you stood. He held your hand in his, even though it was your whole body he wanted to keep holding in his arms.

You’d chosen no one. Maybe this was a day of break-ups for you.

Beau’s knuckles softly knocked on your door before he entered. Unsurely, he stood until your eyes glanced up and found his. A smile rose on your lips.

“Hey, there you are. You just missed Randy,” you said.

At a loss for words, Beau stared at you for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. You still looked pretty rough – hooked up to IVs, your face and arms covered in bruises and cuts. But at least you were here – alive. There was some color back in your cheeks. Until a few hours ago, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see you again.

“Oh, uh, passed him in the hall,” Beau finally said and obnoxiously cleared his throat. “Said he was going back to Houston.”

“Yeah, he told me. I gave him my apartment,” you said, your voice a casual melody as you ignored the tension that was building between you two.

Beau’s brows shot up. “You gave him your place?”

“Least I could do. I sold his home.”

“Where are you gonna stay?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Guess I’m kinda homeless now. Again,” you said and hid the hint of a smile. You could see his wires were crossed.

“Hmm,” he hummed and shifted on his heels.

“Thank you,” you then said softly, trying to fight the tears that pricked your eyes. You swallowed heavily. “For saving me, you know? Bringing me back to life…”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied with a tight-lipped smile and a shake of his head, although a lump formed in the back of his throat at the haunting image of you, limb in his arms. He never wanted to see something like this again. He never wanted to feel that crippling, numbing fear ever again.

You snorted slightly at his understatement, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. “Feel like I have to. They told me you gave me CPR for three minutes straight. They said I was pretty much gone.”

“They’re exaggerating. It wasn’t that long,” he brushed off. “‘Sides, I wasn’t gonna let you die on my watch.”

“Like I said, thanks,” you reiterated and sent him a smile. “So, why are you standing so far away like I’m radioactive?”

Beau pursed his lips. “Well, you are kinda my kryptonite, darlin’.” He scratched the back of his neck, his boots still not moving closer. “Don’t really know where we stand, y’know? I mean, last time… that morning… I guess I’m tryna say I’m sorry for puttin’ you through that. So, on a scale from one to ten, how mad are you at me right now?”

“Well, if you put it like that… zero.” You grinned teasingly. “Hard to stay mad at you, considering you’ve saved my life, you know? I’m willing to forget your momentary stupidity. Well, if it really was momentary…”

“Oh, it was,” Beau confirmed, your heart expanding with a breath of relief. “Going with an insanity defense here. So… what does that mean?”

Musingly, you bit down on your lip. “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to come closer and find out.”

Beau’s lips hiked to a wide, genuine smile for the first time in days. His feet began moving toward you.

Enjoying the warm rays of sunlight on your face, you exhaled blissfully as you sat outside the trailer, leaning comfortably back in your chair.

“There ya go – one extra black, extra strong cup of joe.” Beau handed you your favorite mug, his pine green eyes drifting to your injured leg, propped up on a wooden stool in front of you.

“Thank you,” you replied with a smile and practically inhaled the black liquid, its warmth filling you.

“How’s the ankle? That stool looks uncomfortable,” he noted, brushing his beard. His head tilted. “You need a pillow? Imma grab you one. Anything you need, darlin’. Officially retired since yesterday, you know? I’m here all day. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

Amused, you laughed a little. “I don’t need a pillow. The ankle’s fine. Just sit down next to me and enjoy the sun, will you?”

“It’s freezing.”

“I like how the snow twinkles in the sun,” you said and patted the chair next to you. With a groan, Beau sat down, wrapping his suede jacket a little tighter around himself while you sat cozily draped in the Sherpa jacket you had stolen from his closet. It was big and wide and warm and smelled heavenly like him. “‘Sides, I have a pretty nice jacket to keep me warm.” He frowned a little at you, but an amused smile twitched on his lips. “You said I should make myself comfortable – anything I wanted.”

“Didn’t think you’d raid my closet,” he huffed playfully.

“Hey, I only came here with a tiny carry-on.”

You’d been released from the hospital last night after spending a full week there. In the meantime, Beau had decided to hang up the sheriff’s hat, handing the badge off to Jenny – you’d fully agreed with the decision. You knew his heart hadn’t been in it for a while now.

He’d also asked you to move in.

And moreover, you’d finished your last reports and then handed in your resignation at the FBI. One serial killer kidnapping was enough for you. Diane had showed you where your limit was, and that was okay. You looked forward to a quiet life with the man beside you. It was its own adventure. God knows Diane’s life wouldn’t be as happy and peaceful behind bars.

Neither of you had spoken to her since your rescue. Sheriff Hoyt had handled all things on that end. By the amount of evidence they had to go through, Ted even surmised her trial wouldn’t start until three years from now. Until then, Beau and you had promised each other you wouldn’t waste another thought on her.

Well, you supposed you had to waste some thoughts on her. A big publisher from New York had already approached you about a book deal – and the money was more than good.

“Guess we’ll have to go down to Houston to get your stuff once you’re back on your feet,” Beau said.

Musingly, you scrunched your nose and hummed. “Not sure that’s necessary. It’s not gonna fit in the trailer anyways – not with your extensive closet.”

Amused, Beau pursed his lips and chuckled. He rubbed a hand through his beard. “Yeah, I was thinking about that… Maybe we should move. Get a bigger place, you know?”

“Do they make bigger Airstreams?” you murmured teasingly into your mug, cocking an eyebrow.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I was thinking more along the lines of a house. A ranch, maybe.”

“What about a houseboat?”

“Nah, that wouldn’t work with the kids. Try keeping a toddler in a life jacket all day,” Beau quipped, shaking his head. He didn’t even seem to notice what had slipped out of his mouth.

Your brow creased. “Kids?”

His wide eyes found yours, mouth opening and closing. He let out nervous breath. “Yeah, uh, something else I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Are you pregnant?” you joked and snorted into your coffee. Then, your brow furrowed. “Wait, am I? Did the doctor say something to you? Why would you smuggle tequila into my room if you knew?”

“No one’s pregnant, darlin’…” Beau laughed softly, his hand reaching out to cover your thigh. “I was just thinking maybe more a down-the-line kinda thing. In the, uh, near future, you know?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Well, uhm, I didn’t think that was on table. We’ve never talked about it. I mean, I honestly didn’t think you’d want to…”

“Kinda gettin’ tired of people always assuming things about me,” Beau retorted with a little smirk. He squeezed your thigh. “Kids are on the table, darlin’.”

“Huh.”

Clearing his throat, Beau leaned forward in his seat. “You know, I had a little chat with Randy…”

You scoffed in surprise. “He actually told you?”

“Bigger question is, why didn’t you tell me?” Beau’s brow raised almost scoldingly. He was a pretty great dad.

“Honestly? Because it’s none of your business. That was between me and my then-late husband,” you replied with a sharpness that matched his look – there was a playfulness lying underneath, though. You both knew the other had a point. You exhaled a long sigh. “Look, that was four years ago. A lot has changed since then. I haven’t really thought about it since Randy’s funeral. Then Mexico happened. God knows we were nowhere near ready for a conversation like this…”

You gave him a shrug of your shoulders and sipped on your coffee.

“So, you don’t want kids?”

“Do you?”

Beau chuckled lightly, his fingers tapping the chair’s armrest. “Look, I’m already retiring from the job – I don’t wanna retire from life,” he said. “Sure, for a long time, I wasn’t thinking about another kid, but Emily’s almost off to college. Would be nice to feel needed again, do it all over… I don’t wanna fish every day till I drop.”

You snorted a laugh.

“So? What d’you say?”

Biting down on your lip, you glanced behind you at the Airstream. Then you found his green eyes and grinned. “Yeah, I think we’ll definitely need a bigger place. Maybe something between a houseboat and a ranch?”

Beau could barely contain his smile but played along. “And what would that be?”

It ended up being a lake house. Beau fished every morning. You watched him and the sunrise from the window as you wrote your novel.

The baby arrived by next Christmas.

THE END

I think reader would be unstoppable in an Escape Room 😂

I so hope you enjoyed this last part, loves! What a wonderful journey it's been. Thank you to every single one of you from the bottom of my heart 🤍

And PS: I do have a little future one-shot in mind for them 😉

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