Under His Watch
pairing: finney blake x reader
summary: When the snowstorm traps you at the abandoned camp, the dark echoes of the past rise again. Finney Blake is there every step of the way, protective, teasing, and unwavering, making sure you’re safe while navigating the fear, the unknown, and the lingering shadows. In his care, you realize some safety comes not from walls or lights, but from someone who refuses to let you face danger alone.
word count: 914
warnings: mild horror themes, fear/anxiety, protective behavior, comforting physical contact.
The storm started in the afternoon. One minute the sky was gray, the next the wind was whipping snow sideways, rattling the cabin windows and sending icy drafts through every crack. I hugged myself tightly on the bed, wishing I could disappear under the blankets. Every creak in the old wood, every whisper of wind made my chest tighten.
Then, just like that, Finney appeared. He slid the cabin door open quietly, ducking under the low frame. “Hey,” he said, voice soft but steady, “you’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, though the chill in my bones said otherwise.
He didn’t argue. He dropped his jacket over my shoulders and sat beside me anyway, close enough that the warmth radiated through my spine. “No arguing,” he said, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “You stay put. I’ll handle the scary stuff.”
I wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes — calm, confident, unwavering — shut me up. He wasn’t just speaking; he meant it. Every motion, every glance, screamed: I’ve got you.
Hours passed. Every bump in the cabin, every groan of the old structure, made me flinch, and every time, Finney was there. His hand would brush against mine when I moved, or he’d lay an arm across the back of the couch, leaning close enough that I could feel his heartbeat.
“You okay?” he whispered once, his voice soft, almost reverent. “I know it’s bad, but I’ve got you.”
I nodded, gripping my knees. “Yeah… thanks.”
The storm outside didn’t let up. The wind howled, rattling the windows. I could barely see the dark shapes of the trees outside, twisting in the snow. Then, a sudden, jarring ring echoed from the old payphone in the corner of the cabin.
I froze, staring at it, heart hammering.
“I’ve got this,” Finney said immediately. His hand brushed mine in a quick, grounding touch. “Don’t touch it. Not gonna happen. I’m not letting anything near you.”
The receiver crackled, a distorted, sinister voice cutting through the silence. “Finney… you can’t hide…”
My stomach dropped. I recoiled instinctively. Finney tightened his grip on my shoulder. “You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever. I’m right here.”
Even in the shadow of fear, there was a strange relief. I wasn’t alone — not while he was there.
When the storm allowed for a move, we had to investigate the strange noises. Finney didn’t let me go first. “I lead. You follow. Close. Don’t wander,” he instructed, voice steady.
Every step down the narrow, creaking hallway, his hand would brush mine like a reminder: I won’t let anything happen to you. The air was thick, cold, and heavy with the unknown. Every shadow seemed to pulse, but his presence made it bearable. He whispered jokes to keep me distracted, small teases about how jumpy I was, and reminders to stay close.
At one point, a door creaked behind us. I gasped, spinning toward the sound. Finney spun with me, arm immediately wrapping around my waist, pulling me behind him. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His protective closeness made my heart race, and not entirely from fear.
When we reached the basement, dark and cold, Finney stopped and turned to me. “Stay behind me,” he said. His eyes scanned the room, assessing every shadow, every corner. “No matter what, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and comfort. The room smelled of mildew and old wood, thick with the echoes of the past. In the center stood an old chair, cracked leather and worn straps.
He moved first, flashlight cutting the darkness, his other hand occasionally brushing mine to reassure me. I could feel his focus on me, unwavering — protective in a way that made the hair on my arms stand up.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped. A chilling laugh echoed through the basement. “You shouldn’t be here…”
Finney immediately positioned himself between me and the sound. “We are,” he said, voice low and steady. “And you’re not touching her. Not while I’m here.”
The shadows seemed to pulse, the room tightening around us. My chest felt like it would burst. But his hand on my back, firm and grounding, kept me rooted.
Minutes stretched like hours. Every whisper, every creak of the cabin, every shadow pressed against my nerves. And every time I flinched, he was there. Always there. His arm brushing mine, his shoulder against me, leaning in just enough to make me feel safe without smothering me.
By the time the storm outside subsided, the tension had eased slightly. I was trembling, but it wasn’t entirely from fear. My hands were warm in his, his presence grounding me like nothing else could.
“You made it,” he murmured, brushing hair from my face again, smirking faintly despite the exhaustion. “See? I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks… Finney. Seriously.”
He just shrugged, leaning back on the couch, still keeping an eye on me. “I’m not going anywhere. Not while you’re around. You can count on me.”
And in that moment, with the remnants of the storm swirling outside and the shadows of the past lurking in the corners, I realized something important: safety wasn’t just about lights or locked doors. It was about someone refusing to let you face fear alone.
And for me, that someone was Finney Blake — steady, protective, and unwavering under the darkest skies.
PLEASE DO NOT COPY / PLAGIARIZE / TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORKS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE!!