#probably not as funny as I’m thinking it is but in the moment it was very comical to me lol

[sugarcubeindulgent]

a lovely night | bill dickey x f!reader

synopsis. it's prom night. you've been stood up and of all your friends to be sent to check-up on you, they send bill. yeah, maybe you both hate each other, but it is a lovely night.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. established relationship. fluff. misogynistic language. comfort. homophobic language. swearing.

You’re unsure if anything has ever been more humiliating. Pissing your pants on an elementary field trip to the zoo? Nope. Splitting down the ass of your pants on the first day of freshman year by eating shit in the cafeteria? Not even close. Getting caught watching porn when Pete thought it’d be funny to send a baiting link? No. No, you’ve never felt more humiliated than now. Sitting on the curb outside of the school’s entrance with tears refusing to stop rolling down your flushed and warm cheeks.

The night air is cool and breezy against your skin exposed in the dress your mom had spent three months making all for your date to have been part of some long, cruel prank. Your sash is discarded beside you with your earrings and necklace. Sniffling and wiping at your cheeks, you wonder if you should call your dad or walk home.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you press yourself harder into the left side of the railing while wiping your cheeks and underneath your smudged lash line. “Oh God you’re crying…”,groans a voice that’s the very last you want to hear. Still, it’s a reflex to turn and glare hotly at Bill who looks stupid with his chestnut hair slicked back and his suit a bit too big for his frame. He looks at you through his glasses, his hands tuck into his slacks and he seems to shift in discomfort once he looks at your face. He looks away.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna hear any of it, Bill. Save the mocking and jokes for tomorrow.”,you sigh in exasperation while looking away from him.

Unfortunately, his footsteps continue to grow closer. “I don’t wanna be out here either but I pulled the short straw to deal with your girly feelings.”,scoffs Bill. You grunt in frustration and drag a hand down your face with a sharp exhale. He’s such an asshole, you can’t help thinking as he sits down a hand’s length away from you.

You shake your head, sniffling and looking straight ahead with more annoyance and anger in you than hurt and humiliation now. A cool breeze dances along Bill and then reaches you, your eyebrows twitch noticing the cologne you noticed earlier on him on the car ride over. It’s cheap but it feels fitting for him, a bit pleasant after you get used to it. Wetting your lips you turn to Bill when he expels a deep and annoyed sigh.

“I mean we tried to warn you.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “My fucking God…”,you groan while dropping your face into your hands while your elbows press into your thighs.

“What?”,Bill complains incredulously. He shakes his head and you drop your hands, glaring at him with a hot scowl while his eyes finally meet you again. “We tried to tell you that football ape was just looking for an easy girl to fuck with and you didn’t believe us. You let your stupid woman's brain convince you he was a nice guy.” His expression is twisted in annoyance and irritation, looking at you as if you’re stupid but he also seems to be looking at you in a way you’re not familiar with from his eyes.

Regardless, your anger flares and you toss up your hands. “Well I’m sorry I wanted to believe for once that I could have one could high school experience that didn’t involve you guys.”,you snap at him, your voice dripping in sarcasm. Then you scoff and shake your head while wiping at your cheeks. Humiliation and hurt burns suddenly, it feels all the worse knowing the guys will probably never let you live this down. “Do you really have to be a fucking–a f-fucking asshole right now? Can you not save it?” You nearly fling yourself down the rest of the stairs when your voice cracks and your eyes start to sting again. Quickly, you turn away and wave him away. “Just fucking go away.”

For a long moment, Bill is shockingly silent beside you. He doesn’t say a word and you can only hear the wind rustling the trees around and whistling through the warm, night air. You’re hoping he’s just going to leave, that for once in his damn life he won’t be a miserable sack of shit that seems to love arguing with you and fighting with you. And for a hopeful moment, you think he will give you some mercy. But then he clears his throat and snorts, your fists ball up on your lap.

“We all agreed he’s probably just a faggot anyway…”,he suddenly murmurs.

You blink softly and turn to look at him. Bill’s looking down at his nails, they’re practically chewed down to the skin – his knuckles scarred and a bit bruised from the many fits of rage he experiences. “What?”,you ask, clearing your throat after realizing you sound way too pathetic. His eyebrows furrow and he shrugs with a shake of his head.

“I mean – y’know.” You look along his acne-scarred face and he shrugs again while looking up at the starry and clear night, the full moon bathes everything in a white glow. “You actually got all dressed up. You look like an actual girl for once and–and you smell nice and…I don’t know maybe he’s just some fag for standing you up.” Bill’s face is red. You’re unable to help but notice the way his cheeks are a hot red, so red that it’s spread to the tips of his ears. “So…stop being such a girl and crying about someone probably getting fucked by his teammates.”

You’re unsure what to say for a few moments. He’s comforting you. Complimenting you. You can only ever remember him being nice to you, you being nice to him during your tournaments or games whenever you’d carry the team. Only when it benefitted him. But he’s being nice to you, complimenting and comforting you right now. In his own way, but it still has you a bit surprised and taken off guard. Swallowing hard, you suddenly notice something red staining his button-up and you shift the topic just a bit.

“Why is your shirt stained?”,you ask a bit softer than you mean to.

Bill looks from you and down to his shirt, he rolls his eyes. “Lardo shoved me into Stacey Kupsbrick. That bimbo bitch threw her drink at me.”

A laugh leaves your lips and you cover your smile. Bill glares at you and you shake your head while you put up your other hand in defense. “Hey, at least you got to feel her up at prom like you always talked about.”,you remark, dropping your hands to hold your knees while you smile at Bill in amusement. His glare lightens, rolling his eyes again with a smile and nodding.

“Pete said that too.”,he laughs a bit.

Your eyes flicker away from him and your thumbs gently stroke the satin fabric of your prom dress, sniffling, you wet your lips that taste like watermelon. Something odd tingles along your chest and stirs in your stomach as a silence that isn’t awkward or tense with anger settles between you and Bill. You’re unsure if you should say something but you don’t even know what you would say. It doesn’t even feel like Bill’s next to you. Maybe his body was snatched by some alien who knows how to not be an asshole.

“You do look nice tonight. Pretty but not in a slut way.” Your eyes snap to Bill, he’s looking down and wiping his hands on his slacks. “Even if you’re an ugly crier.” He’s still red in the cheeks and tips of his ears.

You want to be mean, to ask him if he’s simply building up to be an asshole or to insult him. But you’re exhausted from crying and you still feel humiliated and embarrassed. Enough that your body disgustingly warms beneath Bill’s backhanded compliment. You clean under your lower lash line and then at the corners of your eyes. Then you nod and you look away, up at the lovely night.

“You smell nice.”,you compliment him, looking down as your hands feel oddly sweaty. You feel Bill’s eyes peek at you from the corner of his eyes and you shrug loosely. “Not like your dandruff shampoo and sweat.”

Bill clears his throat. “Yeah uhm…my mom got me a cologne for tonight.”,he replies. The air feels awkward now. Not in a bad way, it just feels foreign to be nice to each other. You wonder if you should just tell him to leave now. But he speaks first. “Are you gonna come back inside?” Your eyes flicker to him, lashes still wet with tears and eyes still glassy. Bill meets your eyes and he shrugs. “I mean you did make us come to this woman’s bullshit. If you leave you’ll owe us the ticket prices.”

A frown spreads on your lips. “That’s not fair! Jerry wanted to come.”

“Yeah and he’s practically a woman so?”,scoffs Bill. Then he stands and dusts himself off.

Glaring up at him, the idea of going back inside is nauseating. But oddly enough…you do feel better. Warmer and less humiliated. You look up at Bill whose hands slip into the pockets of his slacks. Contemplating for a moment, you sigh in frustration and grab your jewelry and sash. “You’re such a dick.”,you mutter. He mocks you in a girlish voice while you shove your sash into his hands and you first put your earrings on. Placing the chain around your neck, your eyebrows furrow as you try to do the clasp.

“Can you hurry up?”,complains Bill impatiently.

“I’m trying, asshole. The clasp is tiny.”,you snap.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips and he tosses your sash over his shoulder before he walks over. “Turn around. God what kind of girl can’t put a fucking necklace on?”,he harshly spits, smacking away your hands.

Your irritation spreads to your features. “You barely have any nails left how are–fuck!” You hiss in annoyance when he smacks you upside the head. “God…asshole…”,you mumble.

Bill’s fingers work at the clasp and you’re unable to stop feeling weirder. You can feel his fingers brushing and touching the nape of your neck, you blink and look down at the ground while keeping your hairstyle away.

Finally, he pulls away and you release a breath you were holding. Turning around, you notice he’s shifting uncomfortably before tugging your sash and tossing it at you. “Hurry up or I’ll start making jokes about you being stood up.”,he says quickly, turning away and walking towards the school’s entrance with a stiff frame and scowl painted red.

You swallow a bit of that weird feeling, pulling on your sash and wiping your cheeks and cleaning your eyes before you follow where Bill disappears through the doors.

What a weird night.

[1425fivefive]

Esports or shiny objects!!!! Tell me something, anything

what if i answered both 🥹 (my wips)

shiny objects is r63 landoscar (oscar/girl!lando) and i literally don't know what my vision was for this fic. here's a snippet i guess?

Oscar really hadn’t thought it’d be this easy to make Lando beg.  Normally, Lando likes to pretend like she doesn’t need it nearly as badly as she does. Acts like she couldn’t care less if Oscar eats her out or fucks her, even if, when Oscar flips her skirt up, Lando’s panties are so wet they’re practically see-through. Oscar doesn’t really mind Lando’s little act. Makes it even hotter when Oscar manages to get Lando needy enough that she’ll beg for it.

esports is lestappen where charles is still an f1 driver and max is a streamer (basically does redline type thing full time). i don't know if i'll ever finish it but here's a lil snippet:

Max groans. “I hate FIFA, it’s not even a good game.” He’s pouting, scritching Jimmy’s forehead. Charles thinks Max looks a bit like a grumpy cat himself, imagines scratching Max’s hair, whether he’d nuzzle into Charles’s hand like Jimmy— Charles immediately puts an end to that line of thought. Someone else on the stream is asking Max about the F1 race. Charles’s ears perk up. “Yeah, mate, I’ll watch, of course,” Max says. “I think it will be boring, though.”  Charles loves the way Max says words that start with th-, turning them all into hard t-’s. “Think” becomes “tink.” “Three” becomes “tree.” Charles is so enamored by Max’s accent that he almost misses Max calling his sport boring. And, look, Charles knows that he’s started the season strong with two wins from three, but it’s only three races into the season. Plus, if Charles somehow actually won this year, it’d be his very first drivers’ championship. How could that be boring? “Reckon Leclerc will just take it?” Andrew asks. Max shrugs. “He’s been very good lately, and he likes Imola. I think he will probably win from pole, not very exciting. Plus there is the tifosi, of course, so he will have lots of home support.” “Yeah, I saw something on Twitter saying Leclerc is for the girls, the gays, and the Italians.” Max laughed. “I saw that too. It’s funny, I see all these thirst tweets about him, and for me I can only see him as this little kid.” “I forgot you were in karting with him!” Will exclaims. Charles is frozen, afraid to miss anything. In all the hours he’s spent listening to Max stream, he’s never heard Max talk about their karting days. “Yes, and I beat him! I think he hated me, he was very upset about it at the time,” Max says, laughing. After a moment, he goes quiet, pressing a kiss to Jimmy’s forehead, looking thoughtful. “I’m sure he has forgotten about it by now, of course.” “I haven’t,” Charles says.  He flushes when he realizes he’s spoken aloud to his empty driver’s room. But he’d felt compelled to tell Max that he hasn’t forgotten, could never forget the feeling of racing Max. Charles had hated him back then, of course, but how could he not? Charles hated anyone who was faster than him, and Max had been the best, so clearly a natural in the car.

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

A Birthday to Remember

Link to Art: Durin and Scara (@GenshinImpact), SethoScara (@GenshinImpact)

Summary: Styling Scara’s hair and talking about feelings among other things. And tickling of course :)

A/N: Sorry that this is very late 😞. I hope the magic of Wanderer’s birthday gets conveyed to you all even though his birthday has passed. Not as much tickling as my other fics but filled with loving moments between Sethos and Scara along with Durin. Plus, some mentions of the poly ship. Hope you enjoy the fic :)

Word Count: 4,654 (I’m so tired 😪) Also on AO3!

—

Durin was resting on top of Wanderer's hat as both of them and Sethos were heading back to the Temple of Silence after having lunch with Cyno and playing TCG.

“I never asked for a card game with you and Cyno on my birthday,” Scara grumbled.

“Hey, don't be like that,” Sethos laughed. “Did you enjoy it at least?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. It was fun!”

“Not with how many jokes he told. Terrible ones at that.”

“I found them funny!” Durin chirped up.

“Yeah, they are funny! Durin gets it. Aether even said that Xiao chuckles at Cyno’s jokes.”

“You called?”

A whoosh sounded behind them and there stood Xiao with a hint of a smile.

“What's this about jokes?”

“Xiao! We didn't mean to call you. We were just discussing how funny Cyno’s jokes are.”

“They're not,” Wanderer interjected.

“But they are,” Xiao argued. “Especially the—”

“Ugh, all of you have a broken sense of humor. I’m outta here.”

“Honey,” Sethos whined. “Don’t leave us! Maybe this joke is funny to you.”

Sethos and Xiao caught up with Durin and Scara who huffed in annoyance.

“Okay, so it starts like this. I love my fingers.”

“I love mine too, so what?”

“I can always count on them!”

Both Xiao and Durin snorted at the joke while Sethos had a goofy grin on his face. And Scara…

“Well…I can always count on my middle finger to fuck you,” he smoothly replied, looking back at him with a smirk.

Sethos’s jaw dropped at the comment, his face immediately flushing red. Xiao choked on a laugh, knowing full well what Scara meant. Durin was laughing at the thought of Scara throwing middle fingers at Sethos every chance he could. Thankfully, little innocent Durin doesn’t know the other way much to everyone else's relief.

“Xiao, do you mind teleporting us the rest of the way to the Temple of Silence? I don’t think Seth will be able to walk from here anymore.”

Wanderer was grinning from ear to ear at this point.

“Heh, of course. Everyone, hold on to me.”

With a whoosh, they were all teleported inside Sethos’s room in the temple.

“Alright. I’m going to be leaving now. Need anything else?”

“No, we’re good. Thanks for coming. And Cyno might be in Gandharva Ville with Tighnari or still at the Lambard’s Tavern if you wanted to talk with him.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna drag Aether there with me.”

“Wow, you are such a good boyfriend, Xiao.”

“Well, Ae never complains. Oh, Wan. Before I go.”

“Hmm- mmm~”

Xiao gave him a sweet kiss, nipping at his lip playfully before pulling away.

“Happy birthday. We all love you, especially him.”

He nodded towards Sethos who had a pout on his lips.

“Where’s my- mmph!”

Xiao pulled him in with ease and pulled away just as quickly.

“There, are you happy? You are as needy as Heizou and Lyney.”

Sethos grinned stupidly, making Scara roll his eyes. They said their goodbyes, Xiao patting Durin’s head and giving Sethos and Scara quick parting pecks before going off to get Aether.

“Do you think he is going to find Aether with Kinich?” Sethos asks.

“Of course,” Scara answered, rolling his eyes. “Either they get along and tickle the crap out of Ae or they’re going to get in an argument and Ae is just going to tickle the crap out of them.”

“Can Ae really handle the two of them?”

“In a tickle fight? Hmm, probably. He is a fighter and definitely has the tactics to escape and bring them down laughing. He can also be tickled for quite a long time because of his high stamina which might sound bad, but he just loves being tickled. He's such a lee. In bed, maybe not. His stamina is going to be used against him, that’s for sure. And Xiao and Kinich are definitely packing down th—”

Sethos nudged him with his elbow, eyes full of amusement as he flicked them upward. Durin, honey.

“…the bed for cuddles. Yeah, for cuddles, since he is definitely sleepy after being…tickled.”

Scara internally facepalmed as he finished. His ears burned as he changed the subject.

“So, what else did you have planned for my birthday?”

Sethos chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

“I actually wanted to style your hair! It will totally lift your spirits.”

“…Tch. As if I would let you touch my hair,” he scoffed, setting down his hat on Sethos’s bed and Durin crawling off it in favor of the more comfortable sheets.

“Oh honey, drop the act,” he purred behind him, placing his chin on his lover's shoulder and making him jump. “I saw that flicker of interest in your eyes~”

“I don't have any interest in your dumb ideas, little bee.”

“You are playing hard to get right now. Guess I have to change that attitude of yours.”

Sethos suddenly dipped his hands into Scara’s pant pockets or as he likes to call them, hip windows, making Scara jolt in surprise and immediately grab his wrists.

“Don't,” he hissed.

“I can always count on my fingers to tickle you too, y’know?”

Without waiting for a response, he went right in for the kill, massaging deep into his hips with his thumbs and wiggling his fingers along his inner thighs.

“AHAHAHAHA! YOU AHAHARE SUHUHUCH AN ANNOYHIHING BEHEHEE!” Scara laughed, halfheartedly tugging at his lover's wrists.

“You don't mean that,” Sethos teased, taking notice. “I know you love me~”

“IN YOUR DREHEHEAMS!”

“Still being a tough one, are you? Well, can you handle this too?”

Sethos places a raspberry on the right side of his honey’s neck. And then another. And another. And boy does that do a number on him as he crumbles against Sethos, shaking in laughter as part of his second most ticklish spot was attacked.

“GAHAHAHAHA! SE- bfft! AHAHAHAHA! SEHEHETH! pfft! NAHAHAHA!”

“Can't forget the other side too!”

“WAHAHAIT! Wahahait! Sehethos!” Scara frantically got out, taking a few moments to catch some air.

“Yeah?~”

Sethos hovered over the left side of his neck now while his fingers and thumbs subtly went underneath his shorts and lazily traced along his skin making his eyes go wide in alarm.

“Are you cra—”

“Relax, I wouldn't do it if he was here.”

They both looked at Durin who was looking at them in interest.

“You wanna help me style his hair, Durin?” Sethos asked, his eyes gleaming with mischievousness.

Durin caught on, his own eyes gleaming with glee as he did a little excited dance.

“Yeah! I wanna help!”

“How are you both persistent?” Scara groaned as Sethos led him to the bed and made him sit on his lap, his back against his honey’s firm chest. “My hair is too short to style anyways.”

“Just like your height?”

“I will end you, Sethos.”

Scara turned around, glaring at him.

“Eh, I am taller than you so I doubt you can do anything, my short, honey love~”

Sethos smirked cheekily, having fun teasing him.

“By a mere two centimeters. And I can definitely destroy you, so stop being a cocky bee.”

“Ohoho~ Destroy me you say? I'd like to see you— ack!”

Scara, who was sitting on his lap a second ago, was now towering over him as his back lay on the bed sheets.

“Impressive honey, but that doesn't prove anyTHIHIHING! HAHAHAHA! WAIT! NOHOHOHO!”

Sethos had no time to defend himself as Scara rained down a tickle frenzy on him.

He clawed at his stomach and scribbled along his sides, making Sethos cackle as he weakly pushed at him. They had no effect as Scara simply leaned down into his ear, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“You messed up, my bee,” Scara whispered. “Told you I can destroy youhuhu- whahahat!?”

Scara scrambled to raise himself up, but he felt a weight settle on his back and he fell forward.

“Don't worry, Sethos! I can save you!”

Durin’s voice sounded behind him and he began to feel soft claws glide ticklishly along his sides making him giggle and try to roll away only to have Sethos trap him in a hug.

“You aren't getting away easily, honey~” Sethos grinned, moving his hands to his armpits and scurrying his fingers up and down his hollows.

“AHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT YOUHUHU TWO!” Scara cried out, trying to clamp his arms down but couldn’t and instead opted to hug Sethos and bury his head in the crook of his neck. At least he can feel like he is doing something to lessen the sensations.

“Your laugh is so cute, honey~”

Scara could only laugh and squirm in response as Durin switched sides and Sethos started adding in raspberries along the left side of his neck.

“BWAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOKAHAHAY! OHOKAHAY! STYLE MYHY HAHAHAIR! YOUHUHU CAHAHAN STYLE MY HAHAHAIR! PLEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!”

“Are you going to stop being a grump on your birthday?”

“YEHEHEHES! IHIHIHI WOHOHOHON’T BEHEHE GRUHUHUMPY! PLEAHEHEASE!”

“You promise?”

“IHIHIHI— AHAHAHAHAHA!”

Sethos moved one of his hands down to squeeze at his hips making him spasm in laughter as he shook his head.

“Was that a no?~”

“NOHOHO!” Scara shook his head desperately. “IHIHIHI PROHOHOMISE I’LL BEHEHE HAHAPPY! SEHEHETHOS! I PROMISEHEHEHE!”

“Promise Durin too.”

“IHIHIHI PROHOHOMISEHEHE YOU AND DUHURIHIHIN! PLEHEHEHEASE!”

Tears of ticklish mirth began soaking Sethos’s clothing as he slowly stopped and began massaging the ghostly tickles away. Durin also stopped, flying over to their heads and nuzzling against them.

“There, there~ That was your well-deserved birthday tickles.”

“You suhuhuck,” Scara giggled, still in his tickle high as he snuggled closer into Sethos’s neck, breathing in his scent. “You bohohoth suck.”

Sethos just chuckled, pecking his cheek as he carded his fingers through his hair.

“Time to style your hair!”

“Actually…can we…stay like this…for a while?”

The softness in Scara’s voice took Sethos by surprise, making him pause his movements before resuming, now gently massaging his scalp.

“Anything for you, honey~”

As Sethos massaged his scalp, Durin joined in and started to knead his back and shoulders. He let out a low groan, his breath evening out as he relaxed and cuddled even closer to Sethos. The soft massage began to lull him to sleep, his eyelids fluttering shut as the sound of his honey’s gentle heartbeat guided him into a peaceful slumber. Sethos continued his ministrations, enjoying the warmth and closeness. The intimacy. The peaceful silence. Sethos took it all in and was starting to feel drowsy himself.

A short while after Scara fell asleep, Sethos and Durin stopped, gently rolling him over so Sethos could change positions so that Scara was now sitting in his lap. As much as Sethos wanted to sleep and cuddle, he wanted to style Scara’s hair.

He’s sleeping like a log.

He carded his fingers through his hair again and Scara nuzzled into his hand, purring softly.

Hehe, you love to purr in your sleep huh?

Sethos kissed him, reluctantly pulling away before looking at Durin. “Ready to style his hair now?” he whispered, grinning.

“Mhmm!” Durin nodded his head, flying around excitedly.

“How do you wanna style his hair?

“Mmm…” Durin had that contemplating look like Scara did when he was thinking really hard making Sethos smile. “Maybe style his hair like yours!”

“Like mine?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that what lovers do? They try to match each other as a way to show affection?”

He hummed for a moment, thinking of Durin’s suggestion. “Styling his hair like mine is going to be a little challenging since his hair is short.”

“Hmm…how about…you try two braids to the side connecting to a ponytail?”

Sethos looked at him with amusement.

“Where are you learning these things?”

“Lyney told me about matching styles, and I learned about hairstyles from Aether!”

“Quite the curious dragon you are~”

“Mhmm!” Durin nodded impatiently. “Can we start styling his hair now? Pleaseee?”

“Okay, okay!” Sethos giggled softly. “Try not to wake him as we do this, yeah?”

They both started to style Scara’s hair, handling the strands delicately. They were quietly focused on their job, the occasional giggle here and there from Scara as they accidentally and intentionally tickled his neck. They continued for a few minutes before Sethos broke the silence with a question.

“Hey Durin, do you think Scara is evil?”

Durin’s eyes widened in shock, the question catching him completely off guard.

“No! He’s my best friend! He helped me, saved me! No one evil would have done that. Do you think he is?”

“No no, he’s not evil. Far from it actually.”

Sethos fondly rubbed the strands of hair in between his fingers.

“Why’d you ask then?”

“I guess,” Sethos took a deep breath. “It was just the look in his eyes when I went to wish him a happy birthday. He was up in a tree, again. Like a cat,” Sethos giggled for a moment before becoming serious again. “His eyes were…distant. Full of sadness and pain. Anger. But it all disappeared when he saw me. Like it was never there to begin with.”

Durin looked between him and Scara, thinking. He looked between them once…twice…three times before he spoke.

“Maybe it was just your imagination! The Scara I know doesn’t have any evil in him. He’s kind-hearted and gentle. Maybe a little mean but not evil…playful mean! He’s happy and smiles a lot too when I see him. How can someone like him be in pain or full of sadness and anger?”

When Sethos looked at Durin, he saw the confidence in his eyes of his words and the love that he had for Scara. An innocence that went straight to his heart.

Is this what you mean when you see ‘them’ in him, Scara? Your friends…Niwa…the young boy? You longed to have them by your side like this, didn’t you?

“You’re right,” Sethos answered, smiling at him while holding back tears. “I probably imagined it. Scara can never have those types of emotions in him.”

He rubbed Durin’s head affectionately and Durin returned it with a smile. A smile full of pure joy and happiness.

I promise I’ll keep you safe, Durin. Just like how I protect Scara.

“Let’s wake him up now!”

“Not yet. Let’s add a ribbon as the finishing touch. What do you think?”

“Ooh, good idea, let me get one.”

Durin flew towards Sethos’s hair supplies, finding a stack of different colored ribbons.

What color should I pick?

He looked at his options before landing on a light purple-colored one.

Maybe this one. The color looks similar to me!

Durin flew back with the ribbon in his claws and gave it to Sethos who nodded in approval.

“Same color as you huh?” Sethos winked at him.

Durin nodded, flying around happily.

“Let’s wake up the pretty sleepyhead now?”

“Yeah!”

Sethos brought his hands to Scara’s stomach and Durin flew to his neck. They each had a smirk on their face as they started off with slow tickles. Sethos lazily drew random shapes while Durin licked ticklish stripes along his neck.

“Stohohop…” Scara chuckled in his sleep, unconsciously leaning away from Durin and into Sethos, but not once stirring awake.

“Let me try something. You keep going, Durin.”

Durin happily continued while Sethos raised his hands to Scara’s armpits and massaged deep circles into his hollows.

Scara’s jolted awake with a laugh, toppling them over.

“Wakey wakey, pretty princess~” Sethos laughed, not phased at all and still continuing the tickle attack.

“HAHahAHaHA! SEheHEThohos?! DuriHIHIN!?” he asked, confused, still groggy from sleep.

“He doesn’t seem to be fully awake yet. Let’s amp it up, Durin?”

Durin’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded his head.

“PFFFTT!”

“Pffftt!”

“BWAHAHAHAHA! HO-HONEHEHE- AHAHAHAHA! DUR- GAHAHAHAHA! WHYHYHY!?”

They both continuously blew raspberries on Scara’s neck, and he howled with laughter. No matter where he squirmed, they always managed to land a raspberry on his neck. Then he felt Sethos lowering his hands to his hips and his laughter rose an octave as he frantically shook his head.

“NONONOHOHO! SEHEHETH! D-DOHON’T- NAHAHAHAHA!”

Sethos ignored him and went ahead, squeezing his hips and Scara shook in ticklish mirth as he desperately tried to find the right words to say.

“I’M AWAHAHAKE! I’M- AHAHAHAHA! I’M AWAKEHEHE! PLEHEHE- HAHAHAHA!”

The both of them slowed down to a stop and Sethos sent Durin a wink and Durin returned it with a happy dance in the air.

“Ha, hah, hah…I dihidn’t even do anythihing,” Scara complained, slumping against Sethos.

“Whoawhoawhoa! You’re going to mess up your hair.”

“My hair? What about my hair?”

Scara sat back up looking between the two of them who were grinning at him. Durin rolled over a body mirror in front of him and he widened his eyes.

“Y-You both did this? For me?” he brought his hands up to delicately touch the intricately styled strands. His hair was styled with two braids to the side connecting to a ponytail with a light purple ribbon finishing up the look.

“Isn’t this how you style your hair, little bee? And hey, the ribbon has a similar color to you, Durin.”

Sethos blushed, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and Durin nodded his head with a proud smile on his face.

He admired his hair in awe before kissing Durin on the side and Sethos on the lips.

“Thank you, both of you. This- This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Sethos saw the soft smile of his lover reflected in the mirror and his heart swelled seeing that smile on his face.

“You look cute, honey~”

Scara’s ears turned red at that comment and from the mirror, Sethos could see a subtle blush on his face.

“Drink some water. You need it,” he laughed, handing a glass he grabbed from the bedside table.

Scara accepted it with a nod and a roll of his eyes, taking a big sip before handing it back to him.

“I’m so sleepy now,” Durin yawned.

“You can sleep on my lap if you want,” Scara offered, patting his legs.

“Really?!”

Durin happily curled up in his lap, immediately dozing off when Scara started running his hand down his head to his back and back again. Sethos put his chin on Scara’s shoulder and the both of them sat in silence, watching their little dragon fondly as he finally fell asleep.

When Scara was sure Durin was fast asleep, he stood up, carrying him in his arms and kissing his head before laying him gently on a pillow. He then returned to Sethos and laid down on his lap, making sure not to ruin his new hairstyle.

“I meant what I said, Sethos,” Scara started, breaking the silence between them. “That this is the best birthday I ever had in my lifetime.”

Sethos stayed silent, listening as he combed his honey’s hair.

“All the birthdays I had were…meaningless. Well, besides the one with Aether and Lesser Lord Kusanali. The rest were filled with hate and sadness. All I ever wanted was to be loved. But how can you love someone who doesn’t have a heart and is evil.”

Scara chuckled humorlessly before continuing.

“I was…alone. I had no one by my side. I was thrown away like trash. No one loved me. Everyone left me…betrayed me…except Niwa and that little child. I now know they didn’t betray me. I was too blind to see it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I turned evil and did all those things. Now, people treat me as a good person. Do I deserve that? Do I deserve that kind of gesture after everything I’ve done? Do I deserve to be happy…to have a…happy birthday? I’m not even human, how—”

“Look at me, Scara.”

Sethos interrupted him, cupping his cheek with his hand and turning his face towards him.

“You aren’t evil anymore,” Sethos firmly said. “You righted your past actions as much as you could have and that shows that what you once were is no more. You helped Durin, didn't you? You saw your past self in him, and you didn’t want him to repeat the same mistakes you did. You may say you do not have a heart, but you’re wrong. You have a heart. A heart that cares, brims with emotions. A heart that can love. Durin can see it. I can see it. Kazuha, Aether, Xiao, Venti, Heizou, Lyney, Gaming, Kinich, they all can see it. We all see a heart in you, my sweet, honey love.”

Sethos smashed his lips against Scara’s, hugging him impossibly close as he shoved all the love he had for him in the kiss. He invaded his already open mouth and sucked his tongue making him moan softly. Scara can only think of Sethos. Sethos kissing him. Sethos on top of him. He can feel the love Sethos has for him and the passion that fills him with so many feelings.

They pulled away after a few minutes, a string of spit connecting the both of them before disappearing. The both of them panted deeply as they stared into each other’s eyes. Emerald eyes meeting lavender ones.

“In my eyes, in their eyes, you are human, Scara,” Sethos started, kissing him softly as he spoke. “You had a wish to be human, but you already are. You just need to recognize where your feelings come from, and they are right here.”

Sethos trailed his finger to where his heart was supposed to be.

“Even though that heart doesn’t beat yet, it will. You just need to unlock it. That’s for you to figure out. Just accept yourself for who you are. I will always love you no matter what happens.”

Sethos looked at him, with warm, loving eyes and Scara felt tears starting to fall from his.

“I-I love you, my bee.”

“I love you too, my honey. More than you know,” Sethos smiled at him, wiping the tears with his thumb.

They both cuddled beside Durin, Sethos whispering sweet nothings into his lover’s ear before they eventually fell asleep.

—

“Ugh, what’s that noise?” Scara groaned, waking up as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and making Sethos stir awake beside him.

“What noise?” Sethos yawned, glancing at him.

“Like a thumping noise and I can…feel it.”

“What are you talking abou— Wait.”

Sethos put his ear on Scara’s chest, listening.

“Honey, your heart! I-It’s beating!”

Their eyes met, surprise meeting disbelief.

“T-That's my heart?”

Scara brought his hand to his chest feeling a rhythmic beat coming from his chest.

“Do you feel different? Do you need anything? What can I do for you—”

“You can stop your buzzing, little bee.”

Sethos smiled at that.

Still the same. I'm glad.

“I feel the same, it's just that everything sounds louder now.”

“Hehehe, you are not a puppet anymore. You're just like me and the others! Ooh, what about your electro mitsudomoe, is it gone now? Wait, are you still ticklish?”

“Can you stop obsessing over me?” Scara rolled his eyes. “You're going to wake up Durin.”

“Whoops, I can't help it. It's you we're talking about.”

“S-Shut up.”

Sethos snickered as he caught a glimpse of red on Scara’s ears and face before he showed the back of his neck to him.

“Aww, your electro mitsudomoe isn't— oh wait,” He brushed with his fingers where it was supposed to be, and it appeared. “It was just invisible. There's an anemo symbol too!”

“What for?”

“I dunno. Maybe you can shoot anemo wind blades infused with electro. Aether is going to be so jealous when he finds out you can wield both the power of electro and anemo at the same time,” Sethos laughed as Scara smirked.

“Let me try something really quick.”

Sethos brought his fingers to Scara’s neck, making Scara shiver.

“What are you— ahahaha! W-What was that?!”

Scara jolted in laughter when he felt a current of electro rush through his body.

“Heyheyhey, I can still channel electro to make you laugh. How about—”

“NO. Seth,” Scara warned, knowing full well what Sethos was going to do.

“You can't do— Aah~”

He let out a small moan, feeling a tingle of electro that sent pleasure shooting through him.

“Hehe, still works~ Let’s have fun later~”

“I would've killed you if that— ahahaha! Ahahare you lihihistening?!”

“Nope!”

Sethos kissed his neck, channeling little currents of electro like the first time, making him squirm and giggle along with making him extra ticklish.

“It feels that you are more ticklish now~”

“Stahahap tahahalking!”

“Okay, if you insist.”

“Wha- AHAHAHA! NOHOHO! NOHOHOT RASPBERRIEHEHES! THAHAT’S NOHOHOT WHAHAT I MEHEHEANT WHEHEN TO STOHOHOP TAHAHALKING!”

Sethos just grinned into his neck and blew more raspberries, knowing that he didn’t mind. Scara stopped trying to talk at this point and just continued to laugh, enjoying the sensations and his lover’s presence as their dragon slept soundly beside them, oblivious to the commotion.

A short time passed before Sethos let up on the raspberries and wrapped his arms around him, bringing them down to lay on their sides. He lazily traced along his honey’s skin, while Scara felt his heartbeat faster not just from the aftermath of the tickling but also from Sethos’s sensual touch.

“I just realized.”

“What?”

“Kazuha is going to be so jealous that I'm the one celebrating your birthday with you and not him.”

“Mmm, you're right. He'll definitely want me for himself later after we finish. Hmm…”

Scara thought for a moment.

“How about this? We’ll let Durin hang out with the others so you and I can have our fun. Then, I’ll have fun with Kazuha tonight. Afterward, you can join us for some midnight fun.”

“Wait, me joining?”

“Unless you don't want to.”

“I want to. It's just…I don't want to take away your alone time with him.”

“Kaz won't mind. We're all boyfriends after all. He'll probably just tickle you to death for stealing me and doing my hair.”

His eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“Isn't he going to tickle you too though?”

“I got tickle immunity,” Scara smirked. “It's my birthday.”

He stuck his tongue out at him.

“Of course you do,” Sethos said, rolling his eyes. “But not from mehehe- hehehey!”

Catching Sethos’s hand sneaking towards him, he grabbed a hold of it and started scribbling his own fingers against his bee's side.

“Did you really think you could tickle me right now? You are so predictable,” Scara chuckled.

Before Sethos can muster a response, they both hear a yawn next to them.

“Mmph, what are you both doing?” Durin asked, blinking his eyes open as he stretched.

Scara slowed his tickling to a stop glancing at Sethos who looked at him, still giggling. They exchanged a knowing glance before turning towards Durin with smirks on their faces.

“Hehehey!” Durin giggled when he felt himself being pulled into their embrace and scribbles on his tummy and under his chin. “Thahat's nohot fahahair! I’m stihill wahaking uhuhup!”

They relented after a couple minutes, leaving Durin in a giggling mess.

“We almost forgot to sing happy birthday to you, honey!”

Durin perked up at that doing an excited dance.

“Yeah, we need to sing!”

“No. That song is dumb.”

“Please! Pretty please! Can we sing it to you?”

They both sent Scara their puppy-looking eyes and he looked away blushing, waving his hands at them.

“Okay, okay! Stop looking at me like that! Fine, you guys can sing.”

“Yes! Okay. 1, 2, 3…”

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Happy birthday to you!

“Happy birthday dear Scaraaaa!”

“Happy birthday to youuuuu!”

“Ugh, you both are insufferahahable!”

“There’s also a rule that we tickle you after singing,” Sethos smirked.

“Thehehere ihihisn’t! Noho! Durin, dohohon’t fohollow him!”

“Yay, birthday tickles!”

The both of them tickled Scara again as he laughed, feeling as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

This is what it feels like to be loved. To be…human. Thank you, for making my dream come true.

——

Here’s some leftover rough writing/notes that didn't make it into the final fic. If it seems unorganized, unformatted, wrong grammar, etc., it’s because it’s supposed to be. Rough for a reason :)

Take place in the temple of silence, comes back after card game with Cyno. Have the hairstyle and tickle his hip windows. — Gift ideas? — “Who told you that?”

“Lyney.”

Sethos rolled his eyes. “Of course he would say that.” — “Aether told me. He has so many cool hairstyles, so I wanted to know how he does it!” — Cuddle Scara to sleep and both Durin and Sethos do his hair. Wake him up, with tickles. Tickle his neck to wake him up. Raspberriessss. (I need someone to cuddle me to sleep…) — His skin tingling where Sethos was breathing.

“It's your birthday, just have fun!”

“Your laugh is so cute~”

Sethos whispers in his ears while styling his hair. Durin sleeps in his lap. They talk about love and happy birthday.

End with the hairstyle, looking in the mirror, and them singing happy birthday to him. — “You don't wanna wake up our little dragon, do you?”

Sethos shook his head, and his other hand, which was trying to loosen Scara’s grip on his trapped one, immediately went to cover his mouth.

Scara smiled, leaning against him as he still tickled him.

“That's what I thought,” he said, kissing him on the cheek. “Hope you can last until I get tired.” — “He'll get his chance later. Right now, I want to celebrate it with you. Besides, that's why there are threesomes for a reason, right?”

Sethos looks at him shocked.

“A-A threesome?! With Kazu!?”

“Why not? He's your boyfriend too. You can say no if you want.”

Add in maybe or for a separate fic. Song lyrics: Sethos to Scara or vice versa.

“If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you.”

“I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile.”

Add Durin too.

“Don't forget me!”

Or maybe the anemo bois band? — His hands weakly pushed at his captors to no avail and he resigned to his fate as his laughter gone silent. They both immediately stopped at that point as Sethos directed Durin to get some water and — Wake Scara up, admires the style. Durin sleeps in his lap. Sethos and Scara talk. Scara talks of his past birthdays. Talks how they were meaningless, filled with hate and sadness. Sethos comforts him...

——

Thank you for reading! :) -Perz ~Risus Amoris~

[waynes-multiverse]

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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[a5tr0naut-und3rwat3r]

Was blissfully looting draugar corpses when I hear “if you want her you’ll have to get through me” and “I’ve got your back, blood” spin around and find these two hitting the most movie poster pose ever back to back after taking down some enemies I didn’t notice 😂

[mars-ipan]

Mars, you have a lot more patience than I would at this point gdhfkjgdsfg. If you'll allow me to choose violence for a second:

-

Hi anon! Did you know you can engage with other people without interpreting every word they use in the worst way possible, making a million assumptions about their background and prescribing opinions to them they've explicitly told you they don't have?

I don't even disagree with all of those rebuttals, but if you want people to engage in discussions with you you have to treat them like human beings, not your opposition in a court case. What are you expecting to get back when you act like this? About nonexistent fingers in his ass guy?

You should at least have got off anon and owned what you said- unless you're using anon to block evade, in which case you should consider respecting people's boundaries.

:D waow…. feeling very cared for in this chili’s tonight

[hplonesomeart]

You know I had to do my own rendition of this eventually. It’s just too good to pass up :))

Attached is just the still image version (not gif) and then some behind-the-scenes initial sketch without puzzle pattern. Also the car had a nose for some reason…glad that I went back to the actual reference material to change it because the Puzzlemobile ain’t got one <<

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

I call this: Let Marty McFly Break the Fourth Wall.

Based on a random thought I had at work today, I remembered how many times Marty looked dead at the crowd when I saw the musical and decided he should be able to do that once in the film. After much thought, I decided the best time for said moment would be right after the DeLorean test because c’mon- Doc drove a car at them at damn near 90 MPH without even knowing if it would work. Thats- that’s just a little crazy, don’t you think?

Marty’s internal monologue retyped below just in case you can’t/don’t want to read my atrocious handwriting :)

1. My God.

2. What did he take?!

3. (Same as 2, plus) This is Heavy

4. (Same as 3, plus) What did I agree to?

5. (Same as 4, plus) Have I gone insane?

6. Are You All seeing this shit? (He drove a car at us! WITHOUT knowing if it would WORK!!)

(Meanwhile in the background I wrote out Doc’s little “What did I tell you? 88 Miles Per Hour!” Cause I didn’t know if I could get the audio)

[forbiddensiren1]

okay i’m half asleep so i probably am not wording this right but. i don’t think naoko was really as vain or bad as people say she is (especially on the wiki). siren fans really out here acting as if she killed their entire family for fun .. imagine saying that naoko is an evil & cruel person when in the same breath you’ll say that shiro is worthy of redemption looool

[raionmimi]

I love that the “There’s only one bed” trope for Symweaver would just be a normal day for them that they don’t even think twice about it. They’d sleep in each other’s beds in their dorm as students whenever they felt like it and still do the same on the Arcology. They’re at complete ease in each other’s presence that they never really thought to make it a big deal

The only differences are that Niran cuddles her a lot more because he likes how it’s a different vibe to intentionally snuggle somewhere away from home, and Satya studies his face a lot more because the environment isn’t the same and it’s comforting that he’s a universal constant to her

[worldheadcanons]

cana and ame stalking reader at the same time but they aren't aware of each other doing that until they the reader brings up the fact that they have a second stalker to one of them. or even funnier, they bump into one another while they're in the reader's home going thru their stuff...ugh my mind. and u could apply this to so many characters like ita and roma, or ludwig and gilbert. like to me this is both terrifying and funny

omg this is so fucking funny LMAO like.. that awkward moment when me & my brother are stalking the same person.. they accidentally take shifts on stalking reader lol.

mmm this isn’t compliant to my canon but i am keeping this idea in my pocket, i will probably use this as a prompt sometime down the line. cana & ame deff get into an argument when they realize they’re “sharing” — lots of “you always try to copy me, don’t you?” & “ugh, the world doesn’t revolve around you!”. i think ita & roma wld also have issues “sharing”; ita is far too needy and, despite how he presents himself, romano is a coward & also needy.

ludwig & gilbert cld prob share though. in the most weird way, i feel like they’d figure it out. they bond over their love of reader rather than tearing each other apart imo. maybe i’m biased bc i can’t imagine ludwig & gilbert fighting for srs & actually hating each other at any point. um. bc they are the dudes ever and i need them to be happy brothers together.

[bwamatoast]

"where did you people come from?"

Your art style is way too swag for zero followers

And you only posted ONCE before asking that. This is a compliment, I love how soft you draw tickling, have a nice day

-Spenses Chilpep

Thank you so much!!!! I’ve shown up a handful of times in this community in the past, although VERY VERY briefly because I’d end up getting too scared or embarrassed to properly manage a blog like this but I’m hoping to stay for much longer this time :) It means a lot to know people enjoy my art this much! I’ve had plenty of time to practice haha

[starbuck]

“bro, SHOULD we?”

[brutal-out-here]

Why do I kinda wanna make a short Lucy Gray Baird fic where the oc was someone who she was with before the games and how that would affect things….

[whalesfall]

thinking Weirdly about that time an ex friend was telling me about how she shittalked me with one of HER ex friends about how I was pretentious and how like, deeply alien to me that was. like I refuse to talk down to people (or try very hard not to) and I have difficulty Distilling shit into shorter sentences because I hate reducing ideas or not being totally clear, which isn’t for everyone but. pretentious?

[tariah23]

They’re calling my baby Gojo, Joseph Joestar now