#jordan x taylor

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: Four standalone scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn showing their protective side when you find yourself in danger. Each scenario exists in its own self-contained world, unconnected to the others.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Fluff and angst. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set during the events of the game between chapter 5 and 6. All of these are separated and not connected. Established relationships. Kidnapping in Josh's scenario. Matt and Emily broke-up before the events of the game. Mike and Jess are not together in this.

This is a continuation of 𝒫𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔧𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 but you can also read this as a standalone without problems. There are 4 totems in each scenario. Just like how it happens in game, the characters don’t have reactions to the totems. The visions are something that could happen in an unknown future and something that I maybe could do as another fic, let me know <3.

Words counts: 9000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

The sanatorium was deathly silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind sneaking through the cracks in the old, decrepit building. You huddled against the cold, your arms tightly wrapped around your torso as you tried, and failed, to stave off the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones. The room you were trapped in was small, suffocating even, with bars that reeked of rust and neglect enclosing you. The scent of mildew and decay filled the air, thick and oppressive.

This stranger brought you here with no explanation other than pointing the flamethrower he had at you and, when he shoved you inside this godforsaken room, he muttered only one thing.

"Wait here for dawn. Don't move."

And then he was gone, the gray and white wolf slipping through the shadows after him. No explanation. No reason. Just the sound of his boots echoing down the massive, empty hall until you were alone.

Completely alone.

Your eyes scanned the room for the hundredth time, looking for anything that could help. The cracked wall in the ceiling caught your attention again, but it was far too high to reach. The room was barren, offering no tools or furniture to elevate yourself.

Steeling yourself, you backed up a few steps as you prepared for what you were about to do. The cold had made your muscles stiff and every movement felt labored, but you ignored the discomfort. With a deep breath, you lunged forward, raising your foot and slamming it into the door with all the strength you could muster.

Pain shot up your leg, sharp and immediate, but you grit your teeth and pushed through it, slamming your foot against the door again. And again. And again.

You clenched your teeth, the desperation growing with every strike as the door barely budged, the rusty metal mocking your efforts as it groaned but held firm.

The pain in your foot was unbearable now, a throbbing ache that made it hard to stand. You stumbled back, gasping for breath as you pressed your back against the wall and slid to the ground.

"Fuck," you muttered, your head falling into your hands. The frustration and helplessness threatened to overwhelm you, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You felt like screaming, like punching the walls until your knuckles bled, but what good would it do?

Your breath came out in shaky puffs, visible in the icy air as you tried to calm yourself. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to conserve what little warmth you had left, but it felt futile.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against the wall as a shiver wracked your body.

Then, suddenly, the silence shattered.

A door somewhere in the hall creaked loudly before slamming open. Your head snapping up just in time to see a familiar figure illuminated faintly by the flickering glow of a lighter.

"Mike…" you breathed, your voice a soft whisper of disbelief.

It was him, no doubt about it. Even through the haze of dim light and your own tired mind. He was wearing the same white tank top he had been wearing earlier when the two of you had been curled up by the fire inside that small chalet, his warmth pressed against you. The fabric was dirty now, smeared with streaks of grime and small tears.

His arms were streaked with faint cuts, some fresh and red, others just beginning to clot. His face looked just as battered with dirt smeared across his jaw and forehead, tiny scratches marking his skin like a map.

You pushed yourself off the floor quickly, stumbling slightly as you moved toward the bars, your hands gripping the cold iron as you pressed yourself against them. The rusted smell overwhelmed you, but it didn't matter.

"Mike!" you called out louder now, your voice breaking with a mix of relief and desperation. "Mike, I'm here!"

His head snapped toward the sound of your voice, his lighter flickering wildly in the motion before he stuffed it into his pocket. His eyes widened when they landed on you, his whole body seeming to tense for a moment before he ran and crashed against the bars, pressing himself as close to you as they would allow, his body warm and solid as he hugged you tightly through the narrow gaps.

Both of his arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. He buried his face against the curve of your neck, his breaths ragged and warm against your skin as his grip tightened.

"God, you're okay," he muttered, voice low and raw.

Your chest ached at the sound of it, the vulnerability in his tone breaking through that cocky bravado he so often wore.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you firmly against him as his breath ghosted over your lips until he closed the distance, his lips crashing into yours with fervor.

You could taste the faint tang of salt and copper, his hand slid up your back, fingers pressing firmly against the curve of your spine as he held you close.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands slipping up to his shoulders before one tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer. A low sound rumbled from his chest, almost a growl, as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand moved from your waist, his fingers brushing against your jaw to tilt your face upward, deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving and his eyes were heavy with unspoken emotion.

You lifted your arms shakily, reaching through the bars to pull him closer—only to freeze when your eyes caught sight of his left hand.

“Mike,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you stared at the poorly wrapped bandage that covered his fingers—or rather, where his fingers should have been. The fabric was soaked through with blood, painted a deep crimson. “What happened to your hand?”

He pulled back slightly, following your gaze to his injured hand. For a moment, his expression faltered, the pain flickering briefly across his face before he shook it off with a forced crooked grin.

“Ah, this?” he said, holding up his mangled hand like it was no big deal. “I got into a little argument with a bear trap. You can see how it ended.”

Your eyes widened in horror, but before you could speak, he leaned in closer, his tone softening as he continued talking. “Relax, though. The important stuff’s still intact.” He wiggled his remaining fingers with a mock flourish, then added with a wink, “Still got enough left to hold you, so we’re good, right?”

You let out a shaky breath, your concern still sharp but momentarily softened by his attempt to lighten the mood.

His hands left your waist only to grip the door tightly, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal as he yanked at it with all his strength.

"Come on, you piece of shit—“ Mike grunted, his teeth gritted as he pulled harder. The door groaned under his effort but barely budged.

"Mike—Mike, stop," you interrupted, stepping back slightly. He paused to look at you, panting, his face red and streaked with sweat.

"It opens from this side," you explained quickly. "I already tried everything." Your foot throbbing faintly as you remembered your earlier attempts.

Mike swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze flicked upward, scanning the room until they focused on the big crack in the ceiling above you.

"Stay put, babe. Don't go anywhere," he said suddenly, his voice taking on a teasing tone as he stepped back.

You scoffed lightly despite yourself, your lips twitching into a faint smile.

He grinned, that familiar cocky smirk lighting up his face even through the dirt and exhaustion as he turned and jogged toward the far side of the hall, where a set of stairs led to an upper level of the sanatorium.

Seconds later, there was a loud grunt, followed by the sound of something hitting the ground. You looked up just in time to see him drop through the crack in the ceiling, landing with a thud a few feet away. He winced slightly but straightened almost immediately, his gaze locking onto yours as he crossed the room in just a few strides.

Bug and warm arms were around you again, pulling you tightly against him. His face pressed against your shoulder for a moment before he leaned back, just enough to look at you properly.

"I saw you," he murmured softly, his voice rough and low near your ear. "I saw that guy dragging you up here, and I just—" His hands tighten slightly on your waist as if grounding himself. "I ran through the woods like a goddamn lunatic trying to find you…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

"If I see that man again, he's dead. I mean it."

Your heart squeezed painfully at his words. You reached up slowly, brushing your fingers against his cheek. The dirt on his skin smeared slightly under your touch and you gave him a small, teasing smile. "You really ran all the way here? In the snow? With barely anything on?"

Mike’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and exhaustion. “What, you think I was gonna just chill out? Cardio’s not optional when you’re trying to save someone’s ass.” His voice was light, but there was a raw intensity in his gaze, betraying just how far he’d go for you.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek to wipe away some of the dirt smudged there.

"Let’s get out of here," you said quietly, your voice laced with affection and determination.

Mike huffed out a laugh, his breath warm against your face as he leaned in closer.

"Absolutely." He muttered, his tone softer now.

The sound of boots against rusted metal reverberated in the room as you and Mike took turns slamming your feet into the stubborn door. Each kick sent vibrations up your leg, the pain from earlier attempts flaring with every impact.

Finally, the door gave way with a metallic shriek. The rusted frame buckled and the door collapsed onto the ground with a loud clang.

Mike was on you immediately, one arm looping around your waist as he pulled you close. "Stay with me," he murmured, his voice low but firm. He pressed a kiss to your temple, quick and reassuring, before taking your hand in his and guiding you forward.

The air outside the room was colder due to the numerous cracks on the walls. The oppressive silence was punctuated only by the faint drip of water leaking from unseen cracks and the groaning protests of the building's ancient infrastructure.

"I’ll take you from where I entered," Mike said over his shoulder, his voice tight as his eyes darted around.

You nodded, following him closely, though every creak of the floor beneath your steps and every distant rustle made your pulse quicken. Peeling paint flaked off the walls like dead skin, revealing rotted wood and rusting steel beneath. The windows were long shattered and the air smelled damp, heavy with mold.

As you made your way through the main hall, a screech pierced the silence. It was distant, echoing from somewhere deeper in the building, but its inhuman quality made your blood run cold.

Mike stopped immediately, his body stiffening. "You heard that too, right?" he whispered, turning his head slightly. He didn't wait for your answer. His grip on your hand tightened briefly before he let go and stepped forward, scanning the room ahead. "Stay here," he said firmly. "I'll check it out."

You were about to protest but he was already pushing open the door to an adjoining room. The door groaned on its hinges before it closed behind him, leaving you alone in the hallway.

Your heart pounded as you strained to hear over the faint whistle of the wind. Something on the floor caught your eye.

Half-buried beneath a pile of debris lay a carved object, its strange shape just visible through the dust and rubble.

You crouched down, hesitating for only a moment before brushing aside the grime and pulling the object free. It was heavier than it looked, the weight solid and cold in your hand. Smooth in some places, splintered in others, as though time itself had tried to erase its details.

The moment you turned it over, the air thickened, the walls around you darkening until they melted away.

You and Mike were running through the hallway. Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as you limped, struggling to keep pace with him.

Mike reached a heavy metallic door, yanking it open with all his strength. his free hand reaching for you as he shouted, waving you forward urgently.

You stumbled inside, your entire body burning with exhaustion. Mike instantly slammed the door shut behind you with a loud, reverberating clang.

And then a grotesque hand, twisted and unnaturally sharp, shot through the broken window of the door before it could fully seal. You barely registered the flash of movement before it swiped across your throat in a sickening arc.

A warm, wet sensation spread down your neck and Mike's face twisted from relief to raw, primal horror.

Your body buckled, falling forward and getting caught in his arms.

"No, no, no, no—“ His voice cracked, the desperation was painful to hear. Blood poured over his hands as he pressed one against your neck, his fingers trembling as he tried to stop it. Tears streaked through the dirt and grime on his face as he shook you gently, his breaths ragged and breaking.

𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

The sanatorium was like a maze of nightmares. You and Mike moved quickly but cautiously, your footsteps echoing faintly as you descended the stairs to reach the back of the place from where Mike had entered. The lighter flickered in his hand, casting faint, jumping shadows across the walls.

"Almost there," Mike whispered, glancing back at you. His free hand hovered near yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his fingertips. "Just keep close to me, alright?"

You nodded, your lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes darted warily around the darkened corners. Something about it felt wrong, as if you were being watched.

Mike was ahead of you, lighter held high, his head snapping from side to side as he checked the place carefully. His entire body was tense, every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to snap at the first sign of trouble.

You gripped the railing tightly as you took another step, the cold seeping into your fingertips.

A low growl echoed from somewhere close, so sudden and guttural that it made your heart slam into your ribs.

A flash of gray shot out of a hidden passage beside the staircase. The gray wolf that had been with the flamethrower man snarled as it lunged, teeth sinking into your leg, forcing a strangled gasp from your throat as you stumbled backward. The wolf growled, its grip unyielding as it threatened to pull you to the ground.

The bite burned, sharp and immediate as blood quickly began soaking into the fabric of your pants. You tried to shake the wolf off, its teeth locked in like a vice.

"Hey!” Mike's voice roared through the space, cutting through your pain. His footsteps thundered as he ran back toward you.

"Get off him!"

Mike kicked at the wolf's side with all his strength, the impact making the creature stumble back with a growl. The wolf snarled, baring its teeth at Mike. He positioned himself between you and the animal, holding out an arm to keep you behind him as he shouted again and raised his arms to look threatening to the wolf.

"Go on! Get outta here!"

The wolf hesitated, growling lowly, its ears pinned flat against its head. But it soon turned and bolted back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

Mike immediately turned to you, his face pale with worry. "You okay?"

You groaned, trying to stand upright as you grabbed at the stair railing for balance. "It's not that bad."

Mike crouched down slightly, his hands gripping your arms tightly as his gaze dropped to your leg. His lips thinned when he saw the blood seeping through your pant leg. He glared up at you, his face taut with frustration. “Not that bad? Jesus, you're bleeding."

He grabbed your hand to haul you up. "Come on, we've gotta move.”

You struggled to stand, your leg barely able to bear your weight. Mike tightened his grip on you instantly, keeping you upright. "Lean on me," he said, his voice softer now but no less firm.

Each step was agony, but Mike was relentless, his arm never wavering as he practically dragged you down the hall.

The distant growls echoed behind you, they were becoming closer the longer time went by. Was it still the wolf? How could it move so fast and loudly at the same time? You wanted to take a look behind you but it was impossible to do without slowing down Mike in the process.

"Screw this," he muttered under his breath. Before you could protest, he turned and scooped you up into his arms, holding you bridal style like it was nothing.

"Mike—"

"Don't even start," he interrupted, his tone clipped as he was now free to run. "I'm not letting you hobble around while Cujo's out for blood."

You opened your mouth to argue but shut it again when you heard a screech from behind you and him.

Whatever was behind, it was definitely not a wolf.

His heart was hammering beneath your hand, but his grip on you never faltered. You curled your arms around his neck, letting yourself lean into his warmth as he ran.

Mike didn't stop until he reached the door he'd entered through. With a grunt, he kicked it open, the metal slamming against the wall as he set you down as gently as time allowed, his hands steadying you as you leaned against the wall, your chest heaving from exertion and fear.

The heavy door swung shut behind you. Mike leaned against it for a moment, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Your hands instinctively went to the bite, pressing against the torn fabric of your pants. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky, but as you inspected the wound, you realized it wasn't as deep as it had felt. Painful, yes, but not life-threatening.

"You okay?" Mike's voice was soft but urgent as he crouched in front of you, his hands hovering near your leg. His eyes were dark with worry, his earlier bravado replaced by something more vulnerable. "Let me see."

"Just hurts like hell," you reassured him, though your voice was shaky.

Mike exhaled sharply, his relief visible as he glanced back toward the door. "Stupid fucking dog," he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. Turning away for a moment, he rifled through the room as something caught his eyes while you let your muscles relax.

A moment later, he returned with an old, green jacket in his hands. The fabric was worn and frayed in places, but it looked decently warm. He held it out to you, his expression softening slightly.

"Here," he said, his voice quiet. "Put this on. You're freezing."

You shook your head immediately, pushing the jacket back toward him. "You need it more than I do."

"Don’t start," he said, his tone firm but not unkind while shoving the jacket toward you again. "Just put it on."

You crossed your arms stubbornly. "I said no. I'm fine. You're the one who's been running around in the cold."

Mike stared at you for a long moment before cursing under his breath as he slipped the jacket on himself. "Fine. Fine. Are you happy now?" he grumbled, his tone dripping with offense.

You hummed softly, fighting the grin tugging at your lips as you reached forward and straightened the collar of the jacket. "It looks good on you," you whispered, your voice teasing but warm.

Mike's glare faltered slightly. His lips parted and you could see the way his chest rose as he inhaled sharply, the tension bleeding from his body. You brushed a hand against his cheek, your thumb grazing over the faint stubble there.

Mike leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours. The corners of his mouth quivered into a faint smile, his warm breath brushing against your face as he pulled you closer by the waist.

"If that wolf comes after you again, I'm turning it into a nice, warm fur coat for you to wear. Deal?" He whispered, his voice low and playful.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine for the first time in hours. Mike's grin widened at the sound, his fingers tightening against your hips.

"My boyfriend deserves only the best, after all," he murmured softly, his eyes fixed on you as your body leaned into his.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

The wind howled like a wounded animal as you and Matt trudged through the heavy snow, the outline of the radio tower barely visible against the foggy backdrop. Matt’s arm was wrapped snugly around your waist as you both moved in a quiet rhythm.

All of that road for your bag only to being left on the snow the second you heard about what happened to Josh and who did it. You couldn’t believe Josh was dead, you felt so bad for Chris when he told you everything and the sight of Ash covered in Josh’s blood made your your own run cold.

The only thing you could do now was to call for help.

Each step closer to the tower seems heavier, the sight of it towering into the foggy sky sends a ripple of unease through your chest. The closer you got, the harder it became to steady your breathing. Your stomach churned, an uncomfortable knot of fear tightening with every screech of the metal.

Emily marched ahead, her sharp voice cutting through the wind as she barked something about getting to the top quickly and calling for help.

But you weren't listening.

Your gaze was fixed upward. The thought of climbing those stairs made your legs feel weak.

You stopped abruptly, the hand you had around Matt's arm tightened to steady yourself. His warm brown eyes immediately shifted to you, concern flashing across his face as he stopped too.

“What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, his brows knitted together as he studied your expression.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "I can't— I don't think I can do this.” Your voice was soft, cracking at the edges, a stark contrast to the person he was used to.

Your breathing was uneven, your lips slightly parted as if you were struggling to get enough air. There was a sheen of moisture in your eyes, not quite tears, but close enough to make his chest ache. Your brows were drawn together tightly and your jaw trembled ever so slightly. The fear in your expression was unfiltered and seeing it struck something deep within him.

"Hey, hey," Matt said softly, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Your hands tightened their grip on his purple jacket, seeking something solid to hold onto. "I don't do heights, Matt. I can't climb that thing." You admitted finally, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Matt was quiet for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as he processed your words. He could feel the tremble in your hands, the way your body leaned slightly against his. It wasn't like you to be so afraid and it made him want to protect you even more.

"I can wait down here," you said quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as him. "You and Emily can go up and—"

"No," Matt interrupted, shaking his head firmly. His hands slid to your waist, holding you steady as his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm not leaving you down here alone. That psycho's still out there. I'm not about to let anything happen to you."

You bit your lip, the familiar warmth of his touch helping to calm the storm inside you, even if only slightly.

You were unsure of how to argue. The idea of being left alone felt awful, especially now, but the thought of climbing that tower was almost worse.

Matt sighed, his expression softening. "Look," he said, his voice low and soothing, "I get it. I do. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'll be right behind you the whole way. Okay? Every step. We'll get through it together."

You looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through some of the haze of your fear. His hands tightened slightly on your waist. His unwavering kindness was the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

You nodded slowly, the movement hesitant but enough to show that you were willing to try. Matt's face lit up with relief, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips.

"That's my guy," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips quickly, his hand holding your cheek softly in the process until he pulled away. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Emily's sharp voice cut through the moment, impatient as ever. "Are you two lovebirds done yet? We don't exactly have all night."

Matt turned to glare at her, but there was no real heat behind it. "Give us a second, Em," he shot back before returning his focus to you. "Ignore her. She's just cranky. Probably cold."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips and Matt's heart swelled at the sight of it. His hand lingered on your waist for a second longer before he reached Emily to explain to her the situation.

Emily tone was sharp as she spoke with Matt. His voice was soft, though there was a hint of an edge in it.

While they spoke, you took a small step back, trying to regain your composure. Something caught your gaze on the snow-covered ground. A faint shape sticking out of the frost, partially hidden under a layer of ice and dirt. You crouched, curiosity sparking despite your lingering fear.

A faint pattern like a jagged spiral ran along one side and despite the biting cold, it felt almost warm in your hand. You inspected the artifact, turning it over.

The dark, cramped space pressed in on you as you hid together with Matt. His arm was tight around your shoulders, holding you so close to his chest that you could feel his heart pounding against your back.

Your gaze dropped to your hands where blood was pooling at your fingertips, dripping steadily onto the ground. You clenched your fists, trying to stop the flow, but the crimson drops continued to fall.

A gaunt, twisted figure crawled into view from behind, its movements jerky and unnatural. Its sunken eyes glinted in the dim light as it sniffed the air, its head snapping toward your hiding spot.

𝒟𝒶𝓃ℊℯ�� 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

"Okay, fine," Emily said, throwing up her hands. "But if he slows us down, Matt—“

"He won’t," Matt interrupted, his voice firm but calm. He turned back to you, his expression softening the instant his eyes met yours. "You ready?" he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The climb to the first level of the tower had been slow but manageable, largely thanks to Matt. But as the three of you approached the second and final part of the climb, the reality of the height struck you again.

Your hands gripping the railing so tightly that your knuckles ached. The world seemed to tilt around you, a dizzying reminder of just how far you'd come… and how much farther you could fall.

"Almost there," Matt called gently from below, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind. "You're doing amazing, babe. Just a little further."

His words were meant to encourage, but you could barely hear them over the pounding of your own heartbeat.

You reached for the trapdoor, your fingers brushing against its icy surface. A sudden gust of wind slammed into you, throwing you off balance and your foot slipped on the icy stare. Your stomach lurching as gravity pulls you backward, barely managing to catch yourself and clutching the metal stairs with both arms in a desperate embrace.

Matt's heart felt like it stopped at the sight of you losing your balance. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The words tumbled out of him in a rush as he scrambled up a few steps.

You couldn't answer immediately. Your chest heaved as you clung to the cold metal, every fiber of your being focused on not looking down.

A shriller, far less comforting voice spoke from below. "I'm freezing my ass off down here! Just stop looking down! Close your goddamn eyes and open the damn trapdoor already!" Emily's unmistakable tone rang out from the base of the stairs. Her words hit like a slap and you flinched instinctively.

Matt’s usual calm demeanor cracked as he whipped around, his voice firm and louder than you'd ever heard it before. "Yelling isn't going to help, Emily! Just let him calm down, alright?"

Emily's jaw dropped, caught off guard by the sudden bite in Matt's tone. Her shock lasted only a second before wrath flashed in her eyes. "Excuse me?" she snapped, her hands gripping tightly the bars. "At least I'm trying to get him to move! What are you doing besides staring at his ass the whole time?"

Matt reeled back, his cheeks immediately flushing with embarrassment. "I—what?! I wasn't—what are you even talking about?!" he stammered, his words fumbling over each other in a rush to defend himself, unsure of how to even begin addressing her ridiculous accusation.

Despite your shaky state, a small, unexpected laugh bubbled out of you at the absurdity of their argument and it gave you the last bit of strength to open the trapdoor and crawl on the floor of the tower. "I got it," you called down, your voice still trembling but steadier than before.

When Matt reached the top of the stairs, you were still crouched near the trapdoor. Your legs shook slightly as you forced yourself to breathe, to focus on anything but the dizzying height below. You felt Matt kneel beside you, his presence warm and grounding despite the cold wind cutting through the tower.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing his hands gently on your shoulders. His touch was firm but reassuring, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your jacket.

His face was closer now, and you could see the worry etched into his features. The way his eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the right words to say, made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

Matt hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. There was a beat of silence, before he leaned forward, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer.

His lips pressed against yours, soft and warm, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. When he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his forehead almost resting against yours as he exhaled shakily with a small, nervous smile tugged at his lips.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze. “I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

"And for the record," he added quickly, his voice low, "I wasn't staring at your ass. I mean, not on purpose! I mean—" He stumbled over his words, clearly flustered. "I was just… making sure you were safe. Like, in case something happened. Which it didn't! It kind of did, but you know what I mean."

The corners of your lips twitched upward and before you knew it, you were laughing. It was shaky and soft, but it was genuine. The sound seemed to disarm Matt completely and he let out a nervous chuckle of his own, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders.

"See?" he said, his tone lighter now as his own smile grew. "That's better. You've got a great smile, you know? Way too good to waste on freaking out about some stupid tower."

You shook your head, your laughter fading into a warm smile as you looked up at him. He stood, offering you his hand, letting him help you to your feet.

Your legs felt weak as you stood, gripping onto the nearest surface to keep yourself steady, refusing to glance at the windows and the dizzying drop below. Matt stayed close by your side, his arm brushing against yours, while Emily knelt by the radio, frantically fiddling with its dials as she successfully called for help.

Beneath the roar of the storm, you heard a sharp, metallic thud. Your heart leapt into your throat as the noise echoed through the tower.

Another sound. A loud, deliberate slam against the trapdoor you'd climbed through. Emily screamed as she backed away and hugged herself. The metal vibrated under each blow, the trapdoor shaking violently as someone—or something—tried to force its way inside.

Matt stepped in front of you, his arm shooting out to shield you. He was just as terrified as you were, but he wasn't going to let it stop him.

The banging stopped, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake. Before a sudden, violent lurch threw you off balance as the entire tower shifted, the floor tilting beneath your feet.

Sparks erupted from the radio equipment as the cables outside snapped one by one, the groaning of metal deafening. Wires shorted out, sending a burst of flames crawling up the walls. The air filled with smoke and the acrid stench of burning electronics.

"Hold on!" Matt yelled, his voice barely audible over the chaos. He reached for you, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he pulled you against him. His grip was strong as he anchored you to him. His other hand shot out, grabbing onto the handle of a desk bolted to the wall, giving you enough time to grab the desk too.

The tower tilted further and Emily screamed as she fell into the window facing the black ravine. She hit it hard, the glass spider webbing with cracks under the force.

"Emily!" you and Matt cried out, but your voice was lost in the chaos as the tower fell violently on the ravine and got stuck temporarily. The desk Matt was holding onto creaked under the strain, its metal legs groaning before the one holding you snapped with a sickening crack.

The sudden loss of stability sent you sliding backward, the window on your left catching your weight just before the glass shattered, slicing into your skin as half of your body hung out into the void.

Panic exploded in your chest as the freezing wind roared around you. Your hands scrabbled desperately against the broken glass and jagged metal, trying to find anything to hold onto. Blood smeared the glass where your palms dragged across it and a strangled cry tore from your throat as you felt your strength fading.

You were seconds away from falling to your own death before Matt's strong hand gripped your shoulder tightly. You looked up, tears blurring your vision and saw his face.

"I've got you," he said, his voice shaking but steady and eyes wide with fear. "Don't let go."

You choked out his name, your voice trembling with both terror and relief. The sheer force of your panic made your words nearly incoherent, but he understood.

His grip on your shoulder tightened as he braced himself against the crumbling wall. With a grunt of effort, he began to pull you up, his muscles straining as he fought against gravity. You felt the jagged glass dig deeper into your skin as he dragged you back to the top of the tower.

Finally, you were close enough for him to wrap both arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. He buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your freezing skin. "You're okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your body trembled against his, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins but you clung to him tightly.

The sharp, panicked sound of Emily's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Oh, god, Matt, help me!" she screamed, her voice rising above the wind and the groaning of the collapsing tower. The structure swayed dangerously again, causing you to flinch violently as your hands gripped the splintered metallic floor beneath you, too paralyzed by fear to move. The glass shards dug painfully into your palms and your chest heaved with shallow, frantic breaths.

Matt was crouched beside you, his hand brushing over your shoulder in a silent reassurance, though his focus was pulled toward Emily. His jaw was tight, lips pressed together as his head darted between her dangling form and you, trembling on all fours right next to him. "Emily! Just—just hang on!" he shouted back, his voice strained with panic and uncertainty.

"Matt you’ve got to do something right NOW what are you waiting for?!?!" Emily screeched, her hands gripping desperately at the metal beam she was clinging to. Her face was pale, twisted in anger and terror as she tried to haul herself upward.

"I’m thinking! Let me think—" Matt shot back, frustration and desperation bleeding into his tone as he glanced at her precarious position. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do something, but the chaos made it impossible to think.

"Don’t think, you idiot, just get me out of here!" Emily yelled, her words sharp and cutting.

"Emily, you’re upset, you need to calm down. You’re gonna be fine—"

“Ugh, stop talking, I can’t take it!”

“Stop yelling at me and let me work this out, okay?” Matt’s voice was starting to crack under the pressure. The rare harshness in his tone shocked her into momentary silence, though her glare remained fixed on him.

“No, you stop it! Why do you keep questioning everything I say?! I’m goddamned sick of it!”

As they argued, you trembled next to Matt, your body betraying you under the crushing weight of fear. The dizzying height and the groaning metal beneath you all pressed down like a suffocating hand. Your arms were weak, hands and arms bloody from the shattered glass and your mind was spiraling into dark places you couldn't control. You wanted to move, to help, to say something, but the words wouldn't come as you kept staring down at the metal that kept moving and falling apart beneath you.

Matt extended his hand down to reach for her but the tower moved again, sliding further down and causing Emily to fall further down, her hands gripping tightly the metal were now the only thing keeping her from falling down.

Matt's head whipped toward you as the tower lurched again, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the look on your face. Your eyes were wide, glassy with terror, your lips trembling as shallow gasps escaped you. You looked completely frozen, your normally bright expression replaced with sheer, raw fear. The sight made Matt's chest ache in a way he couldn't describe.

His mind was racing, torn between what to do. He hated seeing you like this, so vulnerable, so scared.

"Matt!" Emily screamed again, her voice grating. He turned back to her briefly, his expression torn. She was hanging precariously, her fingers slipping further with every passing second.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as he realized he couldn't save both of you. The tower was seconds from collapsing entirely.

He had to make a choice.

He couldn't lose you.

Not you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos occurring.

Emily's head snapped up, her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant

Matt moved, his hand gripping tightly your arm as he hauled you to your feet with a surprising strength born of pure adrenaline. "Hold onto me!" he shouted, his voice breaking through your haze of fear.

You barely had time to process his words before he pulled you forcefully against him, his arms locking around you before jumping away from the tower.

The two of you leapt clear of the collapsing tower just as it let out an earth-shattering groan. The entire structure gave way, crashing into the ravine in a deafening roar of twisted metal, shattered glass, and flames.

You and Matt hit the ground hard, the cold bit into your skin, but the sheer force of the adrenaline coursing through your veins dulled everything else. For a moment, you lay there, your body trembling uncontrollably as you tried to catch your breath.

Matt's arms were still around you, holding you tightly as if he couldn't bear to let go. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breaths coming fast and uneven. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide and frantic as he scanned your face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded shakily, your words caught in your throat. Your hands gripped his torn jacket tightly. "I'm okay," you managed to whisper, though your voice trembled.

Matt exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding his features. But as he looked back toward the ravine, the guilt hit him like a physical blow, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it.

"She's gone," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I didn't—" His words broke off, his face twisting with anguish.

You reached up, your hands still trembling, and cupped his face gently. "Matt," you said softly, your voice steady despite the fear still lingering in your chest. "You didn't have a choice. "

His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance.

"Thank you for saving me," your voice firm this time as you cradle his head between your hands.

Matt's lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowing as tears threatened to spill. "I couldn't lose you," he whispered finally, his voice breaking.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, trembling kiss. His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the strength that had just saved your life.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time all night, the tension in his shoulders eased. "I love you," he whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.

You smiled faintly, your own fear finally starting to ebb away. "I love you too."

For now, at least, you were safe and together.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

The lodge felt emptier than ever.

The silence pressed against you from all sides, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint howling of the wind outside. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, flickering faintly with the light of the fire. The crackling flames did little to warm the place.

You sat on the edge of one of the couches, your elbows resting against your knees as you stared at the floor, your vision blurring with tears. One hand gripped the fabric of your jeans tightly, knuckles pale, while the other shakily wiped at your face. Your chest aches and your throat felt tight, like you couldn't quite catch your breath.

Josh was gone.

The image of it was still burned into your mind. It replayed on an endless loop: the look of horror on his face, the blood, the sickening sound of the chainsaw sliding him in half. You couldn't stop hearing it, couldn't stop seeing it, even when you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to force it away.

And worst of all, you hadn't been able to do anything.

The tears started again, hot and unstoppable as they streaked down your face. You drew in a shaky breath, trying to hold it in, trying to keep it together, but the grief was relentless, clawing at your chest like something alive. You dropped your head into your hands, shoulders trembling as you let it out, the quiet sobs muffled by your palms.

You didn't even hear Chris and Ashley enter the room.

Chris's voice broke through the silence, soft but uncertain as he called your name. You stiffened instinctively, brushing at your face quickly as you turned your head, though there was no hiding the tears in your eyes. Chris stood near the doorway, his expression filled with uncertainty and guilt. Ashley hovered beside him, her eyes wide with sympathy, her hands twisting nervously around each other.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you tried to speak. "Hey," you croaked, though your voice cracked on the word.

Chris shifted awkwardly on his feet, glancing toward Ashley for a moment before stepping closer to you. His face was pale and tired, the usual spark of humor in his eyes replaced with something dull and haunted.

"Listen, man…" Chris started, his voice trailing off as if he didn't know how to finish. He ran a hand through his hair, his movements restless. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About Josh. I can't even imagine…"

He trailed off again, his face contorting slightly as he struggled to find the right words. You could see the guilt written all over him. He'd watched it happen. He'd seen you break down in that moment, screaming and reaching for Josh, even when there was nothing you could do.

The words came softly, but they still cut deep. You didn't want his sympathy. You didn't want anyone's sympathy, because it didn't change anything. Josh was still gone.

But as you opened your mouth to say something, you paused. Chris's face was crumbling, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke again.

"I know how much he meant to you. And… God, I just can't believe it." His voice broke on the last words, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of his grief was too much to bear.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him. Chris was hurting too. Josh wasn't just your boyfriend; he'd been Chris's brother in all but blood.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before looking up at him.

"I'm sorry for you too," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "He was your best friend."

Chris's expression twisted painfully and he looked away quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice tight. "Yeah, he was,” his eyes were glassy as he looked away.

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy with grief. For a moment, none of you spoke. The only sound was the faint crackling of the fire.

Ashley, who had been silent up until now, moved slightly closer to Chris. She placed a hand gently on his arm, her touch soft but deliberate. Chris flinched faintly at first, but he looked down at her and seemed to understand what she meant

"Right," Chris murmured after a moment, his voice hushed. He looked back at you, his face softening with understanding. "We're, uh—we're gonna head upstairs. Sam should be there.”

You nodded faintly, still not trusting your voice to speak.

Chris hesitated, clearly torn, his eyes flickering toward Ashley and back to you. He looked like he wanted to say more, to stay, but Ashley gave his arm a small tug, silently urging him to leave you alone for now.

"Take your time," Ashley said softly, her voice kind but sad.

Chris let out a breath, nodding at you one last time before turning to follow Ashley out of the room. Their footsteps faded into the distance, and the silence returned, heavier than before.

You sat back against the chair, staring at the fire as tears started to burn your eyes again. It wasn't fair. Josh had been here just hours ago laughing, joking, grinning at you in that mischievous way that only he could. You could still hear his voice teasing you, the way he'd lean close to whisper some ridiculous comment that would leave you rolling your eyes but smiling anyway. He'd kiss you like it was the only thing that mattered, his lips soft and slow and full of affection. Josh had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

And now he is gone.

A sob escaped your throat, unexpected and raw and you curled in on yourself, your face pressing into your hands. The ache in your chest deepened, spreading like a crack in glass. It hurts to breathe, to think, to feel.

Josh lingered in the shadows of the lodge, his breathing controlled, almost imperceptible, as he watched you from a distance. The flickering firelight cast faint orange hues across your form, highlighting every shudder of your shoulders, every tremble in your body as you cried alone on the couch.

It had been hard enough to keep his composure when Chris and Ashley had been there with you. But now that you were alone, crumpling under the weight of grief he'd inflicted on you, it was nearly unbearable.

Josh's chest tightened as he watched you wipe your face with trembling hands. The sight alone carried enough pain to gut him. He hadn't anticipated this part of his plan, hadn't thought about how deeply his "death" would cut you, hadn't truly imagined the look of agony on your face as you mourned him.

Josh gritted his teeth, his jaw locking as he turned his head slightly, as though looking away might ease the ache spreading through him.

It didn't.

You were right there and every sound you made carved deeper into him, peeling back layers of guilt he'd tried so hard to bury.

He had envisioned this night countless times in his head, every piece of the plan falling into place. He would take the others to the brink of terror, make them feel the helplessness and fear his sisters must have felt, and then pull back the curtain. Show them that it was all a game, a carefully crafted performance.

They'd be mad, sure, but they'd understand. He wanted them to understand what it felt like to be alone, to lose someone you loved. To hurt the way he had hurt after his sisters disappeared.

But Josh hadn't anticipated how much it would shatter him to see you the way your body curled into itself like you were trying to disappear, to hear the way you whispered his name under your breath soft and broken, like a prayer that would never be answered.

Josh's fingers dug into the wood of the doorframe until his knuckles went white. He felt his chest tighten, his throat working around a lump he couldn't quite swallow.

You'd see. They'd all see. Once everything was finished, they'd finally understand what it felt like.

Josh inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his gaze back to you. You would forgive him, he was sure of it. By the end of the night, you'd see what he was trying to do. That this whole thing was for you as much as it was for him.

Josh took a step forward, silent as a shadow as he took another. His movements were slow, calculated, as he stalked toward you. His figure wrapped in darkness save for parts of his mask and the edges of the gas mask slung over his shoulder. He kept his breathing steady, his footsteps light, his gaze locked on you.

You were his to protect, his to keep safe. You didn't belong out here with the others. You weren't supposed to suffer because of their sins.

You'd forgive him for this. You had to.

His grip tightened on the gas mask, the rubber creaking faintly under the pressure of his fingers.

His heart hammered in his chest as he hovered just behind you now, close enough that he could see the faint tremors running through your frame. His eyes softened for a brief moment as he crouched slightly, one hand tightening around the strap of the gas mask.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words slipping out so quietly he wasn't sure he'd said them at all.

You tensed at the sound, your head snapping up as you turned sharply to look over your shoulder. But before you could see him fully, Josh surged forward.

A sharp gasp escaped you, your body jerking back instinctively, but Josh was faster. He clamped the gas mask against your face, his other hand locking around the back of your head to hold it in place.

Your muffled shout rang through the room, your hands flying up to grab at his arms, your fingers digging into his sleeves as you fought.

Your struggles weakened as the drug took effect, your limbs growing heavy. Josh caught you as you slumped forward, your head resting against his chest. He cradled you in his arms, adjusted your weight carefully before lifting you into a bridal carry with ease.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, breath shallow but steady. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he began moving through the lodge.

Josh’s grip on you tightened, his mind racing as he carried you through the lodge. He glanced down at your face, vulnerable and peaceful, a pang of guilt striking him even as he pressed you closer to his chest, his body tense with emotion as he moved through the hallways.

Josh's thoughts halted abruptly when his foot struck something hard on the floor. The object skidded across the hall with a faint scraping sound, breaking the stillness. He froze, his grip tightening on you instinctively as his sharp eyes darted downward.

A small wooden carving, unmistakable even in the low light.

Josh shifted your weight in his arms to free one hand. Almost hesitantly, he reached down and picked up the artifact, its rough surface felt rough, even edged under his fingertips. He turned it over in his hand.

You were standing in the middle of a dark place somewhere. Half of your body is submerged in water. You were frozen, eyes wide and glassy with terror. Your body was completely rigid, as though you couldn't move even if you wanted to.

Then a grotesque, elongated hand reached into view, its skin pale and stretched unnaturally tight over jagged bones. Its fingers twitched as they clamped down with horrifying force. The hand gripped your face tightly, its long, claw-like fingers pressing into your skin as if it meant to crush your skull.

ℒℴ𝓈𝓈 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

Finally, Josh reached the room he'd prepared. The door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit space with a sturdy lock. He stepped inside, carefully setting you down on the couch in the corner. Your head lolled slightly as he adjusted your position, ensuring you were comfortable.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he cupped your face. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, tracing the lines of your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

Josh pulled back reluctantly, his hands lingering on your face for just a moment longer.

"You'll understand soon. I promise." He murmured, his voice soft but firm.

With one last glance, he stood and stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. As the lock turned, he felt a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly brought him to his knees. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus.

You are safe now. That was all that mattered to him.

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

The basement was cold, darker than you'd expected, with a damp, heavy air that clung to your skin. The dim overhead light buzzed faintly, casting flickering shadows along the cracked stone walls.

You were in the lead, your pace quick and determined despite the growing fear gnawing at your chest. Your older sister, Sam, was down here somewhere, you knew it. She had to be. Every instinct told you to find her before it was too late.

"Sam's smart," Chris said from behind you, his voice low but steady as he tried to keep up with you, though you could hear the slight tremor of uncertainty beneath his words. "If she's down here, she's probably already figured out a way to hide or something. Right, Ash?"

Ashley nodded, her steps careful as she moved beside Chris, her flashlight cutting weakly through the shadows.

You didn't turn to look at them, focus locked on the narrow hallway ahead. The stone walls felt too close, the air heavy with dust and decay, your hands curling into fists as you marched forward.

"Hey, slow down!" Chris called after you, his voice laced with concern. "We don't know what's down here."

You ignored him, your flashlight sweeping frantically across the walls and floor for any sign of her. The further you moved, the more the basement seemed to twist and turn, like a labyrinth.

The three of you continued deeper into the basement, the narrow hallway opening into a larger, more cavernous space. The walls here were rougher, the stone uneven and jagged in places and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the air.

"This place is insane," Chris muttered under his breath, his flashlight sweeping over the walls as he took in the eerie space. "Why does a lodge even have something like this? It's like a whole new place down there."

There was now a narrow corridor where the walls seemed to close in, the ceiling lower now, the air damp and stale. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, your flashlight flickering briefly as you swept it across the space.

Your eyes fell on something in the corner of the corridor-a faint shimmer, like something metallic. You moved toward it quickly, ignoring the chill that ran up your spine.

It was a small, cracked mirror, its surface marred with streaks of grime and dust. Beside it sat an old, rusted lantern, long extinguished. No sign of Sam. Just more emptiness.

Your chest tightened, disappointment and frustration flaring hot and sharp. You slammed a fist against the wall, the sound echoing in the narrow space. "Dammit!"

"Hey," Chris said gently, stepping closer. "We'll find her, okay? You don't have to-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" you snapped, turning on him suddenly. "She could be down here hurt, scared, alone and we're just…" You trailed off, your voice shaking as the words caught in your throat.

Chris froze, his expression softening. He didn't argue. He just stood there, his face pale in the faint glow of his flashlight, like he wasn't sure what to say.

Ashley shifted uncomfortably beside him, her brow furrowed with worry. "We're all scared but you're not alone in this, okay? We'll find her." She said quietly, her voice soft but steady.

You didn't reply. You couldn't. Your hands were shaking and you couldn't tell if it was from anger, fear, or something worse. Instead, you turned away from them and pressed forward again, following the set of narrow stairs descended further into the earth, the edges of the stone steps worn smooth from years of use.

"Hey, wait up!" Chris called, his footsteps hurrying to catch up with you. "We should stick together, man."

You ignored him, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Sam. The flashlight's beam swept across the walls, illuminating strange markings and stains that made your imagination run wild.

Their words barely registered as you moved further into the room, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. You scanned the floor and walls carefully, your eyes darting between every crack and crevice for any sign of your sister.

Then, something caught your eye.

Near the base of an old wooden crate, partially hidden beneath a pile of dust and debris, was a strange object. You crouched down slowly, brushing the dirt away. Its weathered surface felt cool and rough beneath your fingertips as you picked it up, the intricate patterns on its surface oddly mesmerizing.

Your fingers wrapped around it and you shifted it to analyze the foreign object.

You were inside a dark, broken-down shelter, your back pressed against the rough wood of the wall.

You were frozen, your body stiff with fear as your wide eyes stared forward. Across the room, something tall with unnatural limbs moved slowly. Its hollow eyes scanned the room, letting out a high-pitched screech that echoed, clawing at your nerves.

Chris stood at the doorway of the shelter. His face was pale, frozen in terror as he raised the rifle in trembling hands as his finger squeezed the trigger.

𝒢𝓊𝒾𝒹ℯ 𝓉ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓂

Ashley placed a gentle hand on Chris’s arm, drawing his attention away from you. "You think she is hiding somewhere?" She suggested softly, though her voice trembled slightly.

Chris hesitated, glancing between her and the darkened stairs leading further down. "Yeah it could be," he said. He shifted his flashlight, his shoulders tense. "You should go back upstairs. Check the second floor again. Sam could've found somewhere to hide up there that we missed."

Ashley nodded slowly, her expression troubled. "You really think so?"

"It's worth a shot," Chris said, his voice quieter now.

Ashley bit her lip, glancing toward you with a look of worry etched across her face, her flashlight beam catching your face as she gave you a small, hesitant smile. "Ве careful down here, okay?"

"I will," you replied, your voice steadier now.

Ashley lingered for a moment longer, her gaze filled with concern, before nodding and heading back toward the staircase. The sound of her footsteps echoed faintly as she climbed, growing softer and softer until they disappeared entirely.

Chris turned to you, his expression serious as he adjusted the flashlight in his hand. "Alright," he said, his tone quieter now. "Let's figure this out. If Sam's down here, we're going to find her."

The dim, flickering light in the psycho's basement painted the horrifying scene in muted, sickly hues. The walls were cold, damp concrete, but they were far from empty. Photos of you and your friends on a wall, each one marked with red slashes, circles, and Xs. Some were crossed out completely, others circled with jagged edges, and the sight sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

In one corner, a row of gutted pigs hung from rusted hooks, their carcasses swaying faintly with every breath of stale air in the room. The metallic stench of blood was suffocating, mixing with the damp and decay to create an unbearable cocktail of rot. You gagged, your hand instinctively covering your nose and mouth as you tried to focus on anything else.

Chris's hand found your arm, his grip firm but trembling slightly. He pulled you closer to him, his flashlight beam sweeping nervously over the gruesome display. "Stay close to me," he murmured, his voice low but filled with tension.

You nodded silently, your heart pounding in your chest as you moved together through the darkened space.

She was out there, somewhere in this hellhole. You had to find her. You had to.

Your breaths came faster, shallower, the edges of your vision tingling as your chest began to ache. The panic set in, sharp and consuming.

"Sam…" you whispered shakily, your hand pressing against the center of your chest as it started to burn.

"Hey, hey, whoa." Chris turned to you quickly, his flashlight swinging wildly as he grabbed your shoulders. "You okay?"

Chris pulled you closer, his hands firm and steady against you. "Hey. Look at me, alright? Look at me."

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. Chris's face was pale and tense, but his eyes were focused, his voice steady as he spoke. "You need to calm down. Just breathe, okay? Slow and deep. In and out. Like this."

He exaggerated his breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as he held you against him. "Come on, you can do this."

You tried to follow his example, your breaths coming out shaky and broken at first. But Chris didn't let go. He held you there, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he pulled you against his chest.

The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his hold grounded you, pulling you back from the sharp edge of panic. Slowly, the burning in your chest began to fade, replaced by the sound of Chris's heartbeat against your ear.

"Better?" he asked quietly, looking down at you.

You nodded weakly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you exhaled shakily.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing his in a soft, fleeting kiss. It was barely a whisper of contact. A wordless thank you, a quiet plea for comfort, and something deeper you couldn’t yet put into words. Your breath mingled with his, the closeness leaving a faint heat between you even as you pulled back.

"Thanks, Chris."

Chris’s face flushed instantly, his eyes wide and startled. His hand hesitated for a moment before coming up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and careful, as though you might shatter under his fingertips.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly with emotion. His thumb brushed over your skin, his lips curving into the faintest, most heartfelt smile.

Then you heard it.

A scream ripped through the basement, sharp and desperate and your stomach twisted violently as you recognized the voice. "Sam!" you shouted, your voice cracking as you broke away from Chris, running toward the source of the sound.

"Wait!" Chris called after you, but his voice was distant, drowned out by the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

You sprinted toward a room at the far end of the basement. Your hands were shaking as you pushed the two doors open, gripping the handle tightly before throwing it open.

Inside, a single chair sat in the right corner of the room, its frame worn and splintered. Someone was sitting there, slumped forward, their body motionless.

"Sam," you whispered, your throat tight with fear.

You approached slowly, your steps hesitant as the world seemed to narrow around you. The air felt thick and suffocating as your hand reached out, trembling as you gripped the back of the chair and turned it around.

A mannequin stared back at you, a mask of a clown on it’s face. It was dressed in Sam's clothes. Your breath caught in your throat, a sickening wave of confusion and dread crashing over you as you stumbled back.

A sound came from behind. You turned sharply, just in time to see Chris stumbling backward, his flashlight clattering to the floor.

"Chris!"

The psycho loomed behind him. In one hand, he held a gas canister attached to a mask that he pressed to Chris’s face. Chris choked as he thrashed against the grip until he succumbed to the gas.

The psycho turned sharply, his movements swift as he lunged for you. You tried to backpedal, but his gloved hand shot out, closing around your neck with brutal strength.

Your body hit the wall hard, flashlight falling from your grasp. You gasped for air, clawing at his hand as he squeezed, his mask reflecting the faint light in distorted angles.

Your fists pounding against his chest in desperate, useless strikes. The edges of your vision darkened, your chest burning as your lungs fought for air.

Then you felt the cold metal of the gas mask press against your face. The faint hiss of the anesthetic filled your ears, and your struggles grew weaker. Your arms dropped to your sides, your legs giving out as darkness swallowed you whole.

You woke up to the sound of heavy breathing and the faint clink of metal. Your head throbbed painfully, your vision swimming as you tried to focus. Slowly, the room came into view. A cold, gray space lit by a single flickering bulb

Your wrists were tied tightly to the arms of a chair, the rough rope biting into your skin. Across from you, Chris sat in a similar chair, his face pale and streaked with sweat. One of his hands was free, but the other remained bound, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the chair.

There was a gun on the table between you and him.

You groaned, blinking against the faint light.

Chris stirred, his head jerking up as he blinked rapidly. When his gaze landed on you, his face twisted with panic.

"Shit," he muttered, trying to pull at the ropes around his wrist. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You winced, your throat aching with every breath. "I… I'm fine."

Chris's eyes darted to your neck. The purple bruises from the psycho's grip were already forming, faint lines marring your skin. His free hand clenched into a fist.

"I'm gonna murder his fucking face off," Chris growled, his voice low and sharp with barely restrained rage.

Before you could respond, the steady whir of machinery made your blood run cold. You looked up to see a series of big chainsaws mounted to the ceiling, its blade spinning as it began to descend slowly toward the two of you.

A distorted voice echoed through the room.

"Hello, there, my special little subjects. Here’s the twist: Chris has made one fatal choice already today, and now he must make another one. Chris, you can take the gun in front of you and shoot him, or you can shoot yourself. Whoever is left: lives”

Chris raised the gun up on the ceiling, pointing it at the chandelier and pulling the trigger over and over. You flinched at hearing the sound of gunshots so up close.

Chris paled instantly, his face twisting in disbelief as the chainsaw remained unscathed and kept moving down towards your heads.

His breathing grew ragged as his gaze darted between the gun and you. Your heart clenched painfully as Chris pointed the gun at the base of his neck, hands trembling and teeth clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his jaw, his breaths fast and uneven, hissing through his teeth as if the air was being forced out.

The barrel of the gun wavered slightly, his finger hovering over the trigger. For a moment, his lips parted, a faint whisper escaping that was too quiet to hear. His body shook with the effort of holding the weapon steady, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

"Chris!" you shouted, struggling against the ropes. "Don't you dare!"

His lips trembling as he tried to steady his hand. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Tears were now blurring your vision as you fought with everything you had to break free.

Chris closed his eyes, took a final, shaking breath and pulled the trigger.

Note: let me know if you had a favorite among the four. I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3 I’m also open to any feedback or constructive criticism you might have.

[mydairpercabeth]

Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years?

[allamericandaily]

I'm serious. I mean, who cares if they're not talking about you next week, they're talking about you now, and that's worth celebrating. If you don't enjoy the wins when they happen, what's the point?

OLIVIA AND JORDAN BAKER ALL AMERICAN 6.01 "Blackout"

[fangirlintheattic]

"What I liked about Shira the most was that she has a fish out of water element to her. I like the energy of someone who is very strong in their own world, but you take them out of that and all of a sudden it's kind of like the walls are falling around them and they're trying to stay strong, but seem a little lost and confused by the ground underneath their feet. That it gives her a sense of vulnerability, whether she wants to be vulnerable or not." -Constance Zimmer (YoungEntertainmentMag interview)

CONSTANCE ZIMMER as Shira Bolitar | Harlan Coben's Shelter

[bed-chemist]

❝ fortnight ❞

─⋆♡ chapter summary: Michael and Liberty go on a date. well, sort of.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: obsession, stalking, eating disorder, angst, 18+ black!writer, language, stalking and obsession from MMCs pov, blood (mentioned), alcohol (mentioned), torture (mentioned), hostages (mentioned), threatening (more like some warnings but that's subjective), weapons (mentioned), physical descriptors (brief discussion about being black in america and body descriptors), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression, lmk if i missed something.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby’s cabinet ✰ spotify playlist word count: 5.7k ⋆

Michael

The deep vibration on my watch jolts me awake letting me know the guard’s shift change is in progress. My surroundings immediately catch me off guard. The faint morning light shines through the sheer curtains and the smell of vanilla wafts through the room. My entire body is sore and I groan at the shooting pain in my knuckles when I adjust my arm to check my notifications. I should’ve taken some painkillers before smashing my fists into that dick’s face.

Surprisingly, my watch isn't on fire with messages. I sigh and let my arm fall back onto the bed, maybe a little too hard, because Liberty’s warm body shifts next to me. She rolls over until she’s facing me, getting comfortable on my bicep. Her breathing remains slow and even, letting me know she’s still fast asleep.

I take the time to memorize every detail of her face. It’d be a miracle if she ever let me this close to her again unless she’s under duress.

It’s not as if I don’t already know everything about her. I know what she’s allergic to, every broken bone she’s ever had, and every person who’s had the pleasure of fucking her. And that’s not just because I’ve been assigned to her in exchange for my freedom. 

Ever since her picture floated across the metal table on the 30th day of my torture in the same basement we had been in last night, I became obsessed with her. They trained me like a dog, only feeding me and allowing me to rest when they were telling me controlled information about her. 

The name ‘Liberty Washington’ became my beacon of light but remained a subconscious part of my original makeup. The one that reminded me that she is my prison. But my obsession with her continued when they released me. Since they only showed me the photo of her once, I used all the resources available to me to obtain the information they hadn’t given me.

If I were trapped by a 20-year-old for 4 years, I would know how she presented herself to the world.

My eyes wander down from her forehead to her chin, categorizing every part of her warm smooth skin. Her doe-eyes are softly shut and her long lashes splay out against her high cheekbones. She exhales a light sigh from her plum-colored lips and I fight the desire to wake her with a kiss.

She is by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. No one can hold a candle to her, even when she’s asleep and isn’t trying. I attempt to smooth the mess of hair secured on top of her head with bobby pins, but all I’m left with is a sticky substance on my palm. 

My touch wanders down to her cheek, caressing her face with the back of my hand. Her breathing hitches momentarily before her eyelids begin fluttering. She hums, nuzzling into my skin. “Mmm that tickles,” she complains.

Shit. She doesn’t want me touching her and I can’t touch her. She doesn’t even want me in her bed. I silently scold myself again for waking her after the traumatic night she had last night. “My bad,” I apologize, removing my hand from her face.

Her eyes snap open as she reaches out, grabbing my wrist. “No, don’t stop,” she whimpers with a scratchy voice.

I untangle our bodies and by the look on her face, I think she knows I won’t return to the action. Instead, I carefully untangle our bodies to slide out of her bed. “Go back to sleep, I need to shower,” I advise her.

She frowns before saying, “I don’t–”

“Don’t argue with me that you don’t need sleep. Those drugs may be out of your system but you're in withdrawal,” I cut her off, scolding her.

She opens her mouth to rebuttal but a shiver runs through her body like a wave. “And by the looks of it, shock. Fuck,” I grumble, pulling the covers up to tuck her into the bed. “I need to get to Jo before she gets to you,” I tell her, knowing that Jo will take one look at her and flip out.

As if I’ve jinxed it, the door to Libby’s room smacks against the wall. Jo barges in with her heels clicking against the floor with every step. Her displeased disposition emanates through the room when she simply states, “We need to have a conversation.”

So much for Liberty resting. “About what?” Liberty questions, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.

Jo’s eyes flicker back and forth between me and Liberty. “Well now that I see your assigned agent half naked in your bed, we may need to have two conversations,” she snips. The cool air on my skin is enough to determine what she’s irate about.

Liberty groans, sitting up from where she was lying beneath me just moments ago. “We didn’t do anything,” she defends.

“It doesn’t matter. Agent Jordan, need I remind you of your contract? You are only permitted to touch Liberty in cases of emergency. If I report this to her mother, you can kiss your freedom goodbye,” Jo warns. I figured she’d be the first to rat us out if I ever pursued Liberty since she’s always up her ass. 

I take that as a cue to get the fuck out of the bed and I take it, standing from the cool sheets. Liberty scrambles to the edge of the bed, swinging her feet over the edge. I glower at her in warning and she pauses, her toes hovering just above the ground. “No, Jo. Please don’t,” she attempts to plead despite me grounding her to her bed.

Displeasure covers Jo’s face and she turns around when all three of us sense shuffling in the living room. Jo shoos Liberty’s dressing crew away, shutting the door in their faces.

She groans into the wood, “Oh fuck, Libby. Please don’t tell me you’ve become a love-sick idiot in three days. You have a job to do,” and it sounds like a prayer more than a statement.

The air is sucked out of the room and Liberty quickly covers. “No, I didn’t. I just asked him to keep me company last night when I was drunk. It wasn’t his fault.

When I hear her words, I can’t help but feel something tingling in my stomach. What the fuck is that? Disappointment? No. Rejection? Who fucking knows.

“Michael, is that true?” Jo asks me to confirm Liberty’s accounts, bringing me back to the present.

Liberty’s deep brown iris connects with mine, silently pleading with me to keep the full details of last night under wraps. I return my attention to Jo, nodding with my lips pressed together.

Jo squints at the two of us and I can practically feel her scanning my soul for deception. Her face eventually softens and she sighs. “Why were you even drinking?” she questions Liberty.

“Because it was a Friday night and the gi–” Liberty starts before I cut her off by clearing my throat. The more she talks about last night, the more we’ll have to change the little details.

“How old are you, Libby?” Jo cuts the President’s daughter off.

“20,” she murmurs and I’m reminded of the immaturity that comes with her age. 

Jo follows up immediately with, “And how old do you have to be to drink in the United States?”

“21, but,” she says and I can feel the excuse coming.

So can Jo because she stops her from continuing. “But, nothing. Do you see these pictures, Libby?”

“What about them?” Liberty counters.

“What about them? What about them?!” Jo’s voice raises with every passing second. She reaches into her bag pulling out a stack of newspapers. “Liberty Washington, you are the second black first family in this white house. So you already know you’ll be scrutinized more than former president’s daughters,” she rants, throwing the landfield into Liberty’s lap. “I don’t care if someone hands you a ton-sized bottle of champagne, you do not take it before you turn 21.” 

Libby thumbs through the tabloids and I watch as the color drains from her face. She looks up at me and I truthfully have nothing to say to comfort her. This is the outcome of hanging out with those rich ass white girls. I shrug and she frowns, seemingly displeased with my lack of response.

Liberty sighs, removing the pictures from her lap and setting them aside. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

Jo’s face softens and she takes a step forward. “You know I don’t care, but the public does. Now we need to do damage control,” she tells her, sitting next to her on the bed.

“What type of damage control?” Liberty follows up.

“The type of damage control that does not present a hung-over, first daughter,” Jo informs her. She points between the two of us adding, “You two are going out.”

“Out? Where?” Liberty parrots.

Jo sighs standing from the bed. “Lunch. Somewhere well-lit where you can be photographed looking perfectly healthy and not looking like you just escaped death.” She begins typing on her phone and I assume she’s pulling up the closest approved restaurants in the area.

“Go shower,” Jo commands me and I nod, moving to exit from the room.

“I know Harry and Rowan are attached at the hip right now, but it’s worth a shot reaching out to them. Maybe we can fly them out to support you,” I hear Jo advise Liberty and my ears perk up.

“No. They’ve got enough going on right now,” Liberty replies and I glance behind me with confusion.

Who the fuck are Harry and Rowan. Those sound like masculine names and they did not come up on my search. How the fuck are they connected to Liberty. My Liberty. And how quickly can I find out everything I know about them?

The moment we stepped out of the car at the Italian restaurant 30 minutes ago, we got swarmed with cameras. The shuttering sound hasn’t stopped ringing out and I’m consistently triggered. The sound of photos being snapped sounds oddly similar to a knife being sharpened. My upper back carried a ton of weight when I quickly jogged over to Libby’s side of the car to let her out.

When slid out, black heels first accentuating how short her skirt was, a low growl bubbled to the surface. My instinct was to push Libby behind me to hide her but that wasn’t possible. We have one job today. To get her seen looking perfectly fine.

Now, I watch meticulously as Libby swirls the fork in the pasta dish on the patio, bringing another bite up to her lips. The lunch has been mostly silent; she gives me flirty glances and I return them with glares.

In flickering moments, I find myself feeling guilty for the way I’m treating her. How I’m keeping her at arm's length so she doesn’t learn the full truth. It’s fucked up that the person I want the most is sitting within grasp, but touching her means giving up my breath.

She’ll hate me if I tell her the truth about the deal and my obsession with her that came with it. She’ll hate me if I tell her I can’t be with her because touching her means my death follows swiftly. I can’t win. 

I swallow thickly as Libby’s leg drags up the inside of my leg. My gaze lowers on hers and I feel a growl coming forward, “Lib, the fucking cameras.”

I knew this was a bad idea. As soon as I saw the date-like table placement, I should’ve requested we be moved. She bats her eyelashes and my jaw clenches. Those siren eyes alone could send any untrained agent into a spiral. Her charisma and confidence would’ve made her a shoo-in, in a different life.

“What? They couldn’t see that. And besides, I asked you a question, I was just trying to get your attention,” she manipulates the situation flawlessly so it’s impossible to be mad at her. Aside from the straggling tourists sitting at the nearby tables, the Italian restaurant is empty. Suddenly I feel even more guilty for forcing her to only chat with me.

I hold her gaze as I take a sip of water. “You have it, Lib. Always. What did you ask?”

She licks her glossed lips and I want to grab her throat and taste her tongue for myself. “Wanna play 21 questions?” asks suggests.

My brain races with how negatively this could go. She could ask me anything and I know I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Not because I was trained to see her as my savior, but out of respect. She deserves to know how she’s being used if she’s curious about it.

“Oh come on. I’m not going to ask you anything groundbreaking like the codes to the torture room,” she jokes and I tense. “I just want to know you a bit better,” she continues.

My mouth unconsciously counters with, “You know me already through the file Mommy dearest gave you.”

“I want to know what’s between the pages. Tell me something the government doesn’t know, Michael.”

Her tone is tempting as she leans closer to me, causing her breasts to practically spill out of her top. Against my better judgment, I survey my surroundings. A couple of sleaze bags stare a hole through Libby’s chest and I attempt to shove my irrational self away. “I’ll tell you whatever you want once you sit the fuck up,” the deep grumble slips.

Libby smirks, leaning back into her chair. Her fingers dance on her jacket, pulling it tight around her midsection. “Better?” she tests.

The urge to roll my eyes is intense but I nod, giving her confirmation. I shift in my seat, awaiting her first question when she blurts, “Okay, let me think…Oh, I know! What’s your favorite song?” 

“That's your first question?” I ask slightly baffled. I expected her to come out of the gate swinging.

She giggles, and at that moment, I decide that it’s my favorite sound. “Well I knew you weren’t going to answer anything about my parents so I went with that,” she confesses. 

The watch on my wrist flashes a bright light into her eyes and I adjust it when I see her squinting. “That’s a simple one, Lib. You just wasted a question. Sweet Sticky Thing by Ohio Players.”

I watch her as she processes the information, confusion washing over her face. “What’s a Sweet Sticky Thing?”

“Is that one of your questions?” I counter.

She shakes her head no, pursing her lips. “Good, it’s my turn,” I add.

A soft chuckle leaves her lips and I can’t help but smile. “Go off, king,” she directs me to proceed and I snort.

My brain mentally combs through her file. I know she wants to be a teacher, but I can’t fathom the reasoning behind being around snotty-nosed kids all day. She’d be good at it, though. Her bubbly aura is perfect for playtime while her stern demeanor will ensure her students learn. “Why teaching?”

I study her body as she looks heaven-forward like the answer is above her. “So I can go teach in a country where nobody knows who I am and I have no significant value to the people. It’s my ‘out’,” she tells me with air quotes around the final word once she’s found the answer.

I pop a piece of breadstick into my mouth, responding with a hum. The fluffy substance takes me a bit to chew, giving her the perfect opportunity to ask, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Black.”

She squints at me and her face scrunches with disgust. “Do you enjoy being absolutely predictable?”

My brows furrow, matching her facial expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I dig.

“Every man’s favorite color is black. You couldn’t have picked something unique like tangerine or gunmetal?” She scoffs like she’s bored with my response.

My arms slide together to cross, feeling instantly defensive. “I didn’t know my answers had to fit in with your idea of me, Lib,” I say.

She seems to notice my guarded body language, reaching across the table to grab my arm. The contrast of her cold hand against my skin sends sparks to my brain. At that moment, we both hear the shutter roll of a camera, presumably nearby. 

She jerks slightly, but I make no move to acknowledge their presence. It’s what we’re here for, after all. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Black is a great color. Suits you,” she stammers over herself.

Although I don’t uncross my arms, my upper body loosens up a bit as she returns to her sitting position. I chastise myself for wishing I could touch her; my head filled with all the things I would do with her. And that moment she made that joke over a fucking color, I wanted to bend her over my knee. 

But I couldn’t. 

She could take all of me, piece by piece. And it looks like she’s going to.

My craving to change the subject causes me to blurt out, “So since mine is so boring, what’s yours?”

“Tiffany blue. Can’t you tell?” she asks, gesturing to her long-sleeved shirt.

“Didn’t notice,” I lie.

I had noticed. In every picture I’d seen her in, she had some type of blue accessory. Her dress was the same color Friday night. And now, she’s a tight tweed dress with soft teal thread on the edges. I’ve counted nearly every stitching by now.

She licks her lips, eyes darting to her lap. Her whole body language shifts downwards with insecurity. Like she’s trying to hide her perfect face from me. “Well then,” she grumbles, obviously irritated.

Fuck. The last thing I ever want to do is make her feel like shit. “What’s your favorite animal?” I ask her, trying to get her mind off my previous statement.

Her eyes narrow and she nips, “It’s not your turn.”

“Well fine, you go,” I direct pointedly. 

“What happened last night?” she asks.

My neck rolls with discomfort. “What part?” I ask.

A flash of sadness coats her brandy irises. “All of it? Start from the alleyway.”

I inhale sharply before sighing, “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you, Lib. I don’t remember anything between knowing you were okay and seeing you half-naked in the basement.”

“That’s okay, we can fill in the gaps,” she shrugs as if it’s that easy. When I black out, I don’t remember anything, Liberty.

Hesitation overtakes my brain and I search her face and body for the truth. She’s slightly leaning forward with interest but she still looks a bit upset. Maybe this will help her. “When you passed out, I picked you up and carried you to the car. Called Damson on the way back in to get your fucking friends. Meredith is the only one who came back with me so I shoved her in the back seat with you. Told her to make herself useful and hold your hair while I shoved my fingers down your throat,” I rant.

I pause when she picks up her fork and it makes a clanking noise. “Keep going,” she commands.

So, I press on. “On the way back, I coaxed her into telling me about every person she knew. Then I told her the situation and told her to keep her mouth shut. I knew how to take care of the situation and I didn’t want her in it.”

Liberty starts nodding like she’s processing the information. “And then you took off,” she theorizes. 

“No. I had Damson meet me by the front and get you checked out by the doctor. They said you just needed sleep so he put you and Meredith to bed,” I tell her, though I leave the part out about screaming in Damson’s ear the entire time to keep his shit together and take care of her. I wouldn’t have moved forward with picking them up if mine wasn’t okay.

Her nose scrunches. “While you went and got Vanessa and Teddy,” she hits the jackpot.

“I’d assume so,” I confirm.

She stares at me dead on and I feel my jaw clench. My heart begins to pound in my chest anticipating her next words. “Okay,” she utters after what feels like forever.

She begins swirling her fork into her past dish, prepping for another bite. My brows knit and my body doesn’t untense. “Okay?” I parrot. I was half expecting her to rip me a new asshole for my behavior.

She nods, looking over towards the hoard of paparazzi. The flashes are almost blinding as they take advantage of the perfect angle. When her face returns to my direction she nonchalantly adds, “Yeah. I don’t feel the need to know much beyond that. They’re both dicks.”

My brows raise in surprise and I feel myself slowly starting to agree with her. I could’ve done much worse. I wanted to do much worse. But, she stopped me and isn’t harping on it. “Touché,” I respond.

She smirks, bringing the prepared pasta toward her captivating face that I detailed just this morning. “Your turn,” she says before gracefully taking the bite.

My brows crease and I ask, “We’re still playing?”

“Yeah, I mean, we still need to be here for another 10 minutes. Might as well get to know each other,” she explains.

The point is I already know everything about you, Liberty. Maybe not the Rowan and Harry parts, but I’ll find out soon enough.

“What question don’t you want me to ask?” I question genuinely. Not only because I don’t want to piss her off, but because I can just find out without her knowing.

She blinks rapidly as if she’s trying to determine if I’m being sarcastic. After a couple of beats, she responds, “Don’t ask about my dreams.”

Why the fuck would I want to know about her subconscious. I only need to know the substantial things about her. My eyes to the crowd that hasn’t disapparated and grumble at her answer with irritation, “Okay, I won’t. Ever.” 

When I return my attention to Liberty, she looks like she’s about to cry. Tears brim her eyes and it triggers a reaction in me I didn’t know I possessed. I feel confused by the urge to hunt whoever hurt her, but a wave of guilt knowing I might be the cause of her tears. “Why do you hate me so much?” she whimpers.

My hand goes up to scratch the scruff on my chin. “Look, I’m sorry for that—”

“It’s not that. I know we’re still getting to know each other and it’s only been a few days. But, you hate my guts,” She silences me mid-sentence with a sob that leaves me reeling.

I shake my head, telling her, “I don’t hate you, Lib.” I grab the menu closest to me, putting it up by her face to shield her from view. With my other hand, I reach across the table, wiping the tears from where they’re prickling in the corners of her eyes. The cameras snap, but none catch the simple action shared between us.

What I feel for her is far from hate. My desire will have me forever sprinting towards her. Even when she does eventually marry another man, I’ll still be chained to her. I’ll want to kill every lover she has and even then, the feeling will only be temporary. 

My love for her will ruin my life.

She chuckles, releasing a bit of spit flying from her lips. “Then what? Cause you sure as hell don’t like me.”

My chest becomes heaving with anxiety. I touched her for only a night and she’s already crumbling me until I eventually wither away to nothing. “Lib,” I mutter in warning.

She sniffles one last time before straightening her back. The dreaded noise of the cameras doesn't stop once she’s in view again. If anything they only get louder. “You know what I think? You didn’t expect to like me. You were comfortable loathing me because you are chained to me for four years. But then you met me and I’m not ugly. I’m fun, talented, smart as fuck, and that scares you,” she boasts boldly.

The air is knocked out of my chest and my jaw drops slightly. My mouth snaps shut when I realize it’s the one thing I can’t tell her. Her eyes flicker back and forth between mine and she presses on, “It scares you how perfect I’d be for you, or am I wrong?”

I swallow thickly, prepared to confess my feelings for her. 

She is what I want. She is what I need. 

She is the love of my life and I’m sure of it. It might be clouded by quiet treason and I’ve never felt love, but I’d bet my life on it. Everything I feel for aligns with the emotions I’ve mirrored from others. And I’m going to make her mine one way or another. I don’t care if I have to kill every potential heir, get her pregnant, or marry her to get what I want: her waking up next to me every morning.

I open my mouth to answer when Libby cuts in. “Shut up. Don’t answer that. I don’t think I could handle knowing,” she snips before checking her phone. She grabs it and stands from her seat, letting me know it’s time to go. When I join her to exit the restaurant, I’m still reeling.

The heat in my feet sears up my calves as I run to the beat in my gym. 

I’ve come to learn that Liberty and I don’t talk about things, we exercise. If there’s nothing for us to do and we’re avoiding conversating, we’re sprinting right next to each other. We’re running longer than average tonight, cementing the tension between us. We both feel it, but her attempts to put distance between the two of us are futile. 

Being someone’s shadow has never felt so isolating. 

The sweat drips from my face and I pick up a towel to collect the perspiration. I scowl, deciding we both need a shower before eating. My finger flicks the switch on the machine, switching to a cool-down mode.

My head turns to look at Liberty while I begin slowly jogging. Her face doesn’t twitch and she remains looking at the white brick wall in front of her. When I wave, she glances at me for half a second, rolling her eyes before returning her attention to the wall.

Anger bubbles inside my body and I mentally incinerate myself for being upset by not getting attention from a fucking woman. So, she wants to ignore me? Two can play that game.

A few more minutes of my cool down go by before I completely turn the machine off. I slowly wipe my hands and step off the machine, grabbing my bottle of water.

As I take a sip, I glare at Liberty. She seemingly senses me staring and her head snaps in my direction. “I’m not stopping,” she grumbles.

“You need to eat,” I instruct. If she thinks I don’t know about her little eating disorder, she’s out of her mind. The others might not have picked up on it, but the signs have been evident over the past 3 days. She’s so stressed, she barely eats and she runs to process that stress. Every time she looks in the mirror, she seems disappointed, like what she sees doesn’t match herself. 

She crying out for help and I’ve been the only one to notice. Maybe that’s the reason her parents got her a guard; someone to keep an eye on all the kids.

“And I’m not taking out my headphones for you to bark orders at me,” she raises her tone and her voice reverberates off the wall.

Fuck, she’s hot when she’s mad. The growing semi in my pants doesn’t help considering I’m trying to get her to come with me in this situation, not argue with me.

I decide to take advantage of my desires this once, positioning myself directly next to her machine. Applying my dynamic balance skills, I step onto the edge of the treadmill. My left leg swings over to the other side of the belt until I’m standing still behind her with her running in front of me.

I exhale a deep breath before running through this plan. It’ll scare the shit out of her, but I’ll catch her.

“Liberty,” I husk lowly and she screams, tripping over her feet. My hands quickly grip her sides as she becomes dead weight, nearly falling face forward.

My thighs tingle in my squatting position, but she’s unharmed, so I let out a comfortable sign. She hovers right above the rapidly moving belt with her hands almost kissing it. Her extensions drag against the dirty material, giving me even more of an excuse to push her towards the shower.

My body doesn’t move, allowing her to internalize the fear of almost eating shit. Then, I slowly lift her, wrapping my hands around her waist until her back is pressed to my front. My legs swing over the belt once more until we’re both on the side of the machine, stepping down from the death contraption.

I swear I can feel her heart racing through her back as I grip her tightly, pressing my bulge into her. My nose inhales the delicious smell of her pheromones and I fight the impulse to taste her sweat.

I set her down on solid ground, prepping myself for the backlash before I remove my arms from around her waist. I decide to keep her close to me with my hands on her waist so she can’t hit me, limiting her to her tongue. 

She slowly turns around to look at me, her cheeks a dark plum color. It’s clear she doesn't find the situation funny when she hits my chest with the palm of her hand. I look at her face and realize, I’ve unlocked a dragon. 

She raises her voice to say, “Michael!” her voice cracks and she pauses out of breath. “What is your middle name?”

I smirk and look down at her. “Bakari, my lady. What’s yours?” I ask in return, hoping she’ll open up to me. After reading her file, I already know it. Including her most recent STI test, which is clean of course.

She ignores me, stomping over to the wall and yanking the plug out of the socket. She turns back to me with her siren eyes filled with fire. “Well, you know what? You can fuck off Michael Bakari Jordan. What the fuck is wrong with you? I could’ve fucking died. I was trying to get to know you and you fucked with me. From here on out, you can stick a baseball bat covered in nails up your fucking ass for all I care.” 

She whips around with her back facing me, slowly dragging herself towards the door. 

Damn. She used more F-bombs than I thought was even possible in one sentence.

I smirk and rush to stand in front of her, not wanting her to keep running away from me. This is only complicated because she’s making it hard for me. I want her, but I can’t have her because I can’t touch her. They’ll kill me if they find out but if she makes the first move, I’d be willing to risk it. 

She doesn’t want to make the first move because she fears disappointing our country. And I have an inkling that she prefers aggressive men due to her ex history. It might also have to do with the dynamic of our relationship moving forward. All of the things I think about probably swirl around in her brain. Regardless, she still has to be the one to take that step.

My hands return to her sides, lightly gripping them. She shifts, snapping her thighs together but I can practically taste her wetness in the air from where I’m towering over her. There are no cameras in this room, so she is free to act irrationally, she just needs the perfect trigger.

I step forward, uncomfortably craning my neck. My head is directly above hers and her eyes widen from what I assume is our proximity. “You need to stay healthy. Don’t do that to me, Lib. You can be mad at me, but you can’t not take care of yourself in avoidance of me. I will not control you, but I will not watch you disintegrate without being able to do anything about it,” I plead for her to internalize my words.

This is the most vulnerable I’ve been with her about my feelings for her thus far, and I’m hoping she reads between the lines. The air between us crackles and my eyes search her face, awaiting her response. Her eyebrows momentarily stay scrunched before she slowly relaxes her face. 

“You could’ve gone about that a better way,” she huffs, still breathless from running and the shock of falling.

My thumbs slip underneath her cropped tank top and I stroke her damp skin. “And I’m sorry for that. I’ll explore other methods of getting your attention later,” I attempt to hint at the things I want to do to her.

My eyes flicker down to her lips and her pink tongue pokes out to lick them. A low groan emits from my chest. That should be enough of a trigger. She should know that she’s fucking me in the head by refusing to jump in head first.

She glances down at my lips before whispering, “If I do this; if we do this, it stays here. I just need to know.”

My eyebrows raise and I ask, “Know what?”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “If it’s real,” she responds. 

Her hands come into view, sandwiching my face between her hands. My blood rushes in my ears anticipating our lips touching. She closes slowly and starts to close the space between us and just before our lips touch, the door to the gym smacks the walls.

She jumps back, putting distance between us and my heart drops into my stomach. Dread rushes through my body and the reality of my decision hits me. If I turn to face the door and it’s not someone we can sweet talk, we’re both fucked.

As if we’re not fucked enough already.

[infictionalwonderland]

celebrity masterlist,

chris evans —

nothing yet.

sebastian stan —

nothing yet.

tom holland —

nothing yet.

andrew garfield —

nothing yet.

ben barnes —

nothing yet.

matthew gray gubler —

nothing yet.

micheal b jordan —

nothing yet.

taylor swift —

nothing yet.

lana del ray —

nothing yet.

zendaya —

nothing yet.

margot robbie —

nothing yet.

florence pugh —

nothing yet.

madelyn cline —

nothing yet.

phoebe tonkin —

nothing yet.

maya hawke —

nothing yet.

emma watson —

nothing yet.

no set pairing —

MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N, compilation!

MARVEL CAST FLIRTING W Y/N. P2, compilation!

[erika111111]

Where are the MattJess shippers at?? The cut dialogue of them racing is so cute!!

[ruewrote]

𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑤 𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡.

coming soon . . .

[autistic--brushstrokes]

Maybe this will do better here than on my tiktok @ai_gonplei_ste_odon

[lnfours]

tom’s-gf’s 10k celebration

hi my loves!! first off, thank you so so much for 10k followers. seriously, what the fuck?? i love you all so much. so, to celebrate hitting 10k followers, i decided to throw a little celebration!

the celebration starts tonight (9/16) at 9:30pm EST and it’ll end on saturday (9/23) at 9:30pm EST! here’s the list of things you can send in:

— send a 💐 for a blurb/request!

— send a 🧸 emoji for a random song from my playlist

— send a 🪐 for a moodboard

— send a 🪄 and a prompt of your choosing for a fic!

here’s some helpful links:

ask box ; who i write for/blog rules

thank you guys so much, from the bottom of my heart. i’ll see you soon xx

jordan

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝒫𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔧𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 Until dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Meeting them an year after the prank and Hannah and Beth’s disappearance. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Romance and/or smut. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set during the events of the game at chapter 1. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Pinning. Anal sex. Sex in the open. Matt and Emily broke-up before the events of the game. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Chris is a flirt.

Words counts: 9000 words (around 2000 for each character).

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝓂𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

You sat on the bench just outside the cabin, the cold biting at your exposed fingers as you scrolled through your phone for the hundredth time that evening. Your heart was doing its best impression of a jackhammer as you opened your chat history with Mike Munroe yet again.

The threads were littered with messages, both casual and charged, and no matter how many times you scrolled through them, you couldn’t stop your face from heating up at his words.

Your thumb hovered over one conversation in particular, a mix of texts and a photo that had been on your mind all day for weeks.

Mike [7:13 PM]: So I just left the gym. Guess what I saw?

You [7:15 PM]: A treadmill that wasn’t terrified of you for once?

Mike [7:16 PM]: Wow, rude. My cardio game is STRONG.

You [7:18 PM]: Sure it is. What’d you actually see?

Mike [7:20 PM]: Someone broke one of the bench press racks.

You [7:21 PM]: He broke it? Like snapped it in half?

Mike [7:23 PM]: Nah, he was just being an idiot and overloaded it without a spotter. It cracked. Dude nearly took his head off.

You [7:25 PM]: Jesus. That’s terrifying.

Mike [7:27 PM]: You tell me.

He followed the message with a photo. You’d stared at it for longer than you’d ever admit.

In the picture, Mike stood in the gym. Behind him, the cracked bench press was visible, but your eyes had been glued to his frame for far too long. Sweat glistening on his skin, his simple white tank top clinging to his broad chest. His hair was slightly mussed, strands sticking to his forehead, and there was a teasing grin on his face, one brow raised in a way that screamed smug.

You could still feel the way your face had burned after seeing that photo. He was infuriating in the best way possible.

The soft thud of snow against your chest startled you so completely that your phone slipped slightly from your grasp. You barely managed to grab it before it hit the bench, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at the patch of snow now scattered across your clothes.

A triumphant shout rang out and you looked up to see Mike standing a little ways up the slope, his grin wide and victorious. “Bullseye! Right in the heart!”

Your lips twitching into an unwilling smile. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” he replied, jogging down the hill toward you, his cocky grin never faltering. “That was an incredible shot. You’ve gotta give me some credit.”

“Credit for assaulting me?” you shot back, though the humor in your tone betrayed your mock annoyance.

“Hey, it’s a tradition,” Mike said as he reached the bench. Without breaking stride, he vaulted over the wooden fence separating the path from the seating area, landing beside you with graceful ease. He plopped down on the bench so close to you that his knee pressed against yours, the faint scent of his cologne and winter air clinging to him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“Now,” he said, pulling you just slightly closer, “you gonna forgive me, or do I need to buy you a hot chocolate to make it up to you?”

Your laugh came despite yourself and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “You think one hot chocolate is gonna cut it?”

Mike gasped theatrically, his free hand clutching his chest. “I thought you knew I was a man of many talents, but clearly, I’ve been underestimated.”

“And what talents are those, exactly?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“For starters, I have an excellent aim. That’s already been proven. I also happen to be fantastic at keeping people warm. Very cozy. Ten out of ten, highly recommended.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips made it clear you weren’t entirely serious.

“Ridiculous or amazing?” Mike asked, tilting his head in mock thought. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of his arm around you and the easy humor in his voice made it hard to keep up any pretense of annoyance. “So,” he said after a moment, his tone softening slightly, “how are you doing? Really.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “I’m… okay,” you said after a moment, though the uncertainty in your voice was impossible to miss.

Mike’s grip on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance as he waited for you to continue.

“It’s just…” you began, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t sure about coming here. I mean, after everything that happened with Josh’s sisters…”

Mike nodded, his expression growing more serious. “Yeah, I get that. It’s… a lot, being back here.”

“I was surprised he invited me,” you admitted, your fingers brushing over the hem of your coat. “It’s not like we were super close, you know? And with everything that happened, it just feels…” You trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Weird?” Mike offered gently.

“Yeah,” you said with a small nod. “

Mike was quiet for a moment, his thumb absently brushing over your shoulder. Then, with a small, playful smile, he said, “Well, at least there’s one good thing about you being here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Me,” he replied, his grin widening.

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try,” he said with a wink, but his tone shifted to something softer as he continued. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you came. And if you ever feel like it’s too much, or you’re not sure if you belong here, you can come to me. Anytime.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you found yourself looking up at him, your chest tightening slightly at the warmth in his expression. “Thanks, Mike,” you said softly.

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for,” he replied, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The sound of soft crunching snow caught your attention and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something moving just beyond the bench. You turned your head slightly and were greeted by the sight of a magnificent, curious elk with wide, inquisitive eyes and soft fur that glistened under the sunlight.

Beside you, Mike’s arm instinctively tightened around your shoulders, his fingers pressing against your jacket in a protective squeeze. It was only when he took in the elk’s nonchalant demeanor that his tension eased.

“Careful,” he said softly, his voice low and cautious.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, your tone calm as you gently slipped out from under his arm, much to his clear disappointment. He sat back, watching as you reached for your bag.

Fishing through it, you found the remainder of a snack you hadn’t finished earlier. Unwrapping it, you extended your hand toward the elk, holding the fruit out in your palm.

The elk stepped closer, its warm breath brushing against your hand as it sniffed at the offering. With surprising gentleness, it began nibbling on the fruit, its large tongue lapping at your palm as it ate. You chuckled softly, the sensation tickling your skin, and Mike fell silent, his gaze fixed on you.

He couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about the way you smiled, your laugh so unguarded and genuine as you interacted with the massive animal. The sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in your hair and illuminating your face in a way that left Mike completely mesmerized. His mind spun with thoughts he couldn’t quite put into words.

God, you looked so good like this.

He glared at the elk. That thing was getting all of your attention and he found himself growing annoyed with the creature.

“Lucky bastard,” Mike muttered under his breath as he drank in the sight of you.

When the snack was finished, the elk gave your hand one last affectionate lick before lifting its head and turning away, ambling back into the trees with a serene grace that only added to Mike’s begrudging admiration of the animal.

As you looked down, brushing the moisture from your hands, your gaze fell on the perfect mound of snow at your feet. An idea struck, and your lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Could you check my bag? I think I might’ve left my phone in there.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,” Mike said, blinking as he snapped out of his trance. He leaned forward, reaching for your bag with a slight frown of concentration.

The second his focus shifted, you bent down, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it quickly into a tight ball.

By the time Mike turned back to you, his hand holding your bag the snowball has already been launched, striking him squarely in the chest.

“Bullseye!” you declared, grinning triumphantly as the snow splattered across his jacket. “Right in the heart!”

Mike stared down at the mess for a moment, then looked up at you with wide eyes and an exaggerated expression of betrayal.

“That’s it,” he said, dropping the bag unceremoniously onto the bench as he bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, his voice a mix of disbelief and humor. “You’re dead.”

He soon hurled a snowball at you. You dodged to the side, laughing as the snow missed you by inches and you started collecting more snow for your next attack.

What followed was a chaotic, exhilarating flurry of snowballs and laughter as the two of you launched attack after attack, dodging and weaving across the snow-covered ground.

The next throw was fast and while you managed to shield yourself with your arm, it distracted you just long enough for Mike to close the distance. He tackled you rapidly, his arms wrapping around you as the two of you tumbled onto the soft, powdery snow.

You landed on your back with Mike hovering over you, his weight carefully balanced so he didn’t crush you. His face was flushed from the cold and exertion, but his grin was wide and triumphant, his breath visible in the chilly air.

“Gotcha,” he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands pinned your wrists gently in the snow.

Your laughter faded as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

The intensity in his gaze was unmistakable, his usual playful demeanor softening into something deeper as he took in the sight of you your flushed cheeks, your bright smile, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

His heart was pounding in his chest.

Mike’s hand moved to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his grin turned softer, more sincere. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice warm and full of meaning.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both bold and tender.

The snowy ground beneath you was cold, but the heat radiating from Mike’s body made it feel distant. His kiss deepened, growing more fervent, his lips capturing yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

His arms encircled your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him, your bodies pressed so closely together that you could feel every contour of his broad, muscular frame.

The kiss was unrelenting, his tongue exploring every part of your mouth with a possessive fervor. His light beard scraped against your skin, the sensation adding a sharp edge to the soft heat of his lips.

When he finally pulled away, both of you gasping for air, he didn’t go far. His mouth trailed down your jawline, leaving a burning path of open-mouthed kisses. He moved to your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before sucking lightly, his tongue darting out to soothe the marks he left.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless.

You shivered beneath him, your hands clutching at his jacket as he kissed lower, his teeth grazing your collarbone. His hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly as his mouth returned to your neck, sucking and nipping with a mix of tenderness and urgency.

When his lips found yours again, the kiss was almost brutal in its intensity. His tongue slid against yours, dipping into your mouth to claim and explore, the wet, heated clash of it making your head spin. He shifted his weight slightly, pressing you further into the snow, his hands moving with purpose as he tugged at the waistband of your pants.

The question was silent but clear, his dark eyes meeting yours with an unspoken need. You nodded quickly, unable to trust your voice not to betray how desperate you felt in that moment.

His lips quirking into a brief, cocky grin before his focus returned to his task.

He pushed your pants down just far enough to expose your ass, the cool air biting at your skin for only a moment before his hand was there, warm and firm, kneading the soft flesh. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you slowly at first, the friction maddening in its contrast to the urgency in the rest of his movements.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone low and rough as he watched your reactions. “So perfect. All mine.”

The words sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as his fingers pressed against your entrance. He didn’t waste time, his impatience evident as he worked his fingers inside, the stretch a sharp but delicious contrast to the heat building in your core.

His mouth returned to your neck, lips and teeth working in tandem to leave marks that were sure to bloom into dark bruises. His free hand continued to stroke you, the combined sensations pulling soft moans from your lips that only seemed to spur him on.

“Let me hear you. Let me know how good I’m making you feel,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips, your body arching into his touch as he added another finger, the stretch pushing you closer to the edge. His movements were fast, efficient, as if he couldn’t wait a second longer.

When he finally deemed you ready, he withdrew his fingers, the loss leaving you gasping. He leaned back slightly, his hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants as he freed himself, the sight of his length sending a mix of anticipation and nervousness through you. He was big, thick and achingly hard, the head glistening with precum as he stroked himself once, twice, before positioning himself at your entrance.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though the urgency in his movements remained.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you braced yourself. Slowly, he pushed forward, the thick head stretching you in a way that was both intense and indescribably good

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he slid further inside, the tight heat of you nearly driving him mad.

The stretch was overwhelming but addictive, each inch filling you in a way that left you gasping. Mike paused once he was fully seated, his breath ragged as he let you adjust.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself still.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He groaned softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he murmured, “Good,” he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure as his hands roamed your body.

He pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in, the force of it sending a shudder through your body. His rhythm started slow, deliberate, but quickly grew faster, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until the cold snow beneath you felt like a distant memory.

One hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face up so he could kiss you again, the angle messy and desperate as his tongue delved into your mouth.

The noises spilling from you only seemed to drive him further, his hips snapping against yours with a growing intensity. His hand left your jaw to grip your length again, stroking you in time with his thrusts, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, his voice rough and breathless as he buried himself deep inside you.

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body tightening around him as your release built to a crescendo.

“Come for me, I want to feel you.” He murmured, his tone commanding yet tender.

With a cry of his name, you came, your body clenching around him as your release spilled over his hand.

The sensation of you tightening around him was enough to send him over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into you one last time, his release spilling deep inside you as his body trembled with the force of it.

Mike collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of emotion.

And in that moment, with both of you painting heavily from the heat despite the cold surrounding you two, everything felt perfect.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound breaking the silence as you trudged down the icy trail, your breath visible in the frigid mountain air from cursing softly to yourself. The bag with your clothes was still in your car at the base of the mountain. Now you had to descend the trail and take the cable car again, with the sun already starting its lazy dip below the horizon.

Halfway down the path, you spotted Matt sitting on a rock, his shoulders slumped under the weight of unseen burdens.

His usually sunny demeanor had been replaced with a shadowed expression, his body language heavy and defeated. When he noticed you, he straightened, his dark eyes lighting up momentarily before dimming again, his face attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, the lodge is that way, you know,” he called, his voice tinged with forced humor as he gestured up the mountain.

You sighed, brushing a hand through your face as you tried not to think about all the long path you still had to do. “Yeah, I know, big guy. I left my damn bag with my clothes in the car.” You gestured vaguely down the path, your tone dry. “So now I’m on an impromptu adventure to go get it before the sun sets and I freeze my ass off”

Matt pushed himself up, brushing snow off his jacket. “You’re going down there? Now?” There was a faint note of concern in his voice. “It’s getting late.”

“Not like I have a choice.” You gave him a crooked smile, shrugging. “I’ve got these, don’t worry.” You flexe an arm in an exaggerated manner, earning a faint chuckle from him.

“Right,” he said, his grin flickering but quickly fading. His gaze dropped to the snow for a moment, as if he were weighing something heavy. Then, hesitantly, he glanced up again. “Mind if I, uh, tag along? You know, to keep you company…” His voice faltered briefly, but he picked it up again with a nervous laugh.

There was a vulnerability in his expression that tugged at you. His usual playful energy was subdued, like a lamp turned down to its lowest setting. It was unlike him this quietness.

“Sure,” you said, stepping forward and reaching out to grip his arm lightly. Your fingers brushed against the solid muscle beneath his jacket and he stiffened slightly under your touch, blinking at you in surprise. His throat went dry and his thoughts raced in a jumble of half-formed realizations.

You probably didn’t mean anything by it. But God, it felt like more. He tried not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering to you.

He had always admired you. You’d always been a little out of his league, at least in his mind, but that didn’t stop the small crush he’d harbored before everything went sideways. He thought about the way you smiled, the way you’d always been so kind to him. Maybe this was his chance to be someone you could see as more than just a friend.

For a beat, he didn’t say much, just walked alongside you in silence until you were face to face with the cabin. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “Uh, I could help with your luggage, you know. If it’s too heavy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your curiosity piqued. “luggage?” you teased lightly, quirking your lips into a smirk, “Matt, it’s just a bag. I can manage carrying my own clothes.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his gaze dropping to the snowy ground. “Seems like that’s all I’m good for, anyway.” His tone was soft, mostly murmured just for himself, but you caught the self-deprecating edge to it instantly.

You stopped walking, turning to face him with an offended look on your face. Matt nearly tripped over his own feet trying to stop alongside you.

“Matt,” you said, crossing your arms and fixing him with a look. “You cannot be serious right now. That’s all you think you’re good for? Carrying stuff? For other people?”

He blinked at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Don’t even try to defend yourself,” you stepped closer and poked a finger lightly against his chest. He looked down at your hand, the warmth spreading across his cheeks making him look ridiculously adorable.

“You’re telling me that’s all you’re good for? So what about all those insane jumps you pulled off last winter for your team? Or the fact that you can probably outrun anyone in your sport group? I'm still convinced you could play blindfolded. Not to mention your ridiculous strength. I mean, seriously, have you seen your arms?”

“I-uh… I guess—“ Matt stumbled with his own words at the series of compliments thrown his way.

“I’m not done,” you interrupted, a playful edge to your tone as you continued, stepping even closer. “It’s nice to be with you. You’re fun. People like you, Matt. I should be offended on your behalf for even thinking something so dumb. You’re so much more than that.”

Matt stood there frozen for a moment, his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Finally, he let out a breathless laugh, his face breaking into a shy, almost bashful smile.

"Uh… wow," he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly. "I, uh… I didn't know you thought about me like that.”

"Of course I do," you grinned, giving his arm a playful squeeze before turning back to the trail. “Now come on, Matt. We still have a long way to go.”

As he followed you inside the cabin, his mind was spinning. The way you’d smiled at him, the way your voice had been filled with both teasing warmth and genuine sincerity flipped something in him. Any lingering doubt he’d had about his feelings for you dissolved right then and there.

Matt was officially, unequivocally head over heels.

The cabin swayed slightly as you stepped inside and took a seat close together, the old structure emitting a low groan that sent an unsettling vibration through your feet. You reached out instinctively, your hand landing on Matt's arm to steady yourself. His bicep tensed under your grip, solid and warm, the fabric of his jacket doing little to mask the muscles beneath.

Matt's breath hitched and his gaze darted to your hand for a split second before snapping back to your face. He noticed the way your expression tightened, your lips pressing into a thin line as you glanced out the window.

He didn't say anything, not wanting to draw attention to your nervousness.

When the cabin finally stabilized, the creaking subsiding, you exhaled in relief and your grip on his arm loosened. You pulled your hand back, murmuring something about how rickety the cabin felt, but Matt barely registered your words.

A pang of disappointment tugged at his chest.

He had already missed the moment, hadn't he? He cursed himself silently, his heart aching at how quickly the fleeting connection had slipped away.

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence as the cable car began its slow descent. You stared out the window, your face lit softly by the golden hues of the setting sun.

You didn't notice it at first, but when Matt turned to look at you fully, the sadness on his face was unmistakable. It was the same defeated look you'd seen earlier when you'd first run into him, only this time it cut deeper, like a wound reopening.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked suddenly, his voice low, almost a whisper. His eyes searched yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart twist. "With Emily, I mean. What could I have done differently?"

You turned to face him, your brow furrowing as frustration bubbled quietly in your chest. "Matt…" you started, your tone soft but firm. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But-"

"No, listen to me." You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder and his breath hitched again, his gaze flicking briefly to your hand before returning to your face. "You keep talking like you have to justify what happened, like if you had just been better somehow, she wouldn't have left. But that's not fair to you, Matt. Not even close."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you didn't give him the chance. The words came tumbling out, your frustration mingling with the need to comfort him. "You can't keep putting yourself in her shoes, trying to figure out what you did wrong when the truth is, you didn't deserve to be treated the way she treated you. You deserve good things too, you know?"

Matt's lips parted, but he said nothing, his throat working as he swallowed hard.

"And for the record," you added, a hint of teasing creeping into your voice to soften the intensity of your words, "It’s her loss. She's going to regret losing the best boyfriend she ever had. Meanwhile, you'll be off living your best life."

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he looked down at the ground. "You really think that?"

"I know that," you replied, grinning now.

The smile on Matt's face grew, spreading slowly until it lit up his entire expression. He looked back up at you, his dark eyes shining with something warm, something vulnerable. For the first time in what felt like forever, he believed he deserved something good.

And right now, that good thing was sitting inches away from him.

You smiled back, though the intensity of his gaze when he looked up again sent a jolt through you. His face lit with an expression you couldn't quite place but it made your heart race all the same. You realized, belatedly, just how close the two of you had leaned toward each. His knee pressed against yours, his breath warm against your cheek as the cabin swayed gently.

Matt hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between yours as if searching for permission. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he raised a hand and cradled your cheek, his palm broad and calloused but impossibly gentle. Your breath caught as his thumb brushed lightly against your skin and before you could second-guess the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The cable car rocked gently as the winter landscape stretched endlessly beyond the frosted windows. The dying light of the sunset bathed the mountains in fiery hues, the soft orange and pinks painting the snow with an ethereal glow. It was breathtaking. Something you'd expect to see on a postcard or an oil painting.

But as stunning as the scenery was, it couldn't hold a candle to what was happening inside the cabin.

Your hands were pressed against the cold surface of the mirror door, its frosted sheen reflecting the two of you in the dim light. Matt's sturdy body was flush against your back, his warmth sinking through your clothes and grounding you against the cool glass. A pair of warm lips were on your neck, slow and deliberate, each kiss sending a ripple of heat down your spine.

"Is this okay?" he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was soft, tentative, but there was an underlying hunger in it that made your stomach tighten.

You nodded, a small sound of affirmation slipping from your lips as his hands roamed over your body, strong and sure yet trembling ever so slightly.

One of them slid down to cup your ass, his fingers flexing against the curve as he pressed you closer to him. The heat of his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, making your breath hitch. Matt paused, his lips lingering against your neck as his grip faltered for a moment.

"I want to make sure you're okay," he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and desire.

"I'm okay," you assured him, your voice breathy but steady. Turning your head slightly, you caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "I want this, Matt. I want you."

His eyes darkened at your words, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed his forehead briefly to the back of your head. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Matt's hands moved to your waistband, his fingers hesitating for a moment before undoing the button and zipper. He slid your pants and underwear down, baring you to the cool air of the cabin. His hands returned to your skin immediately, kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he let out a low, reverent sigh.

"You're so… perfect," he murmured, almost to himself, as his hands explored you.

Broad palms sliding over your hips, thumbs brushing the curve of your spine, fingers dipping lower to tease. He was taking his time, making sure you felt every ounce of his care and adoration.

When one finger pressed gently against your entrance, he paused again. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice earnest. His movements were careful and deliberate as he pressed the finger in slowly. The stretch was slight but noticeable and he paused to let you adjust, his free hand stroking soothing circles on your hip.

"You’re okay?" he asked, glancing up at your reflection in the mirror.

"Yes," you breathed, a small smile curving your lips. "You're doing perfect"

His expression softened at your words, his insecurity melting away under the weight of your trust. He added a second finger, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked to prepare you. The tension in your body eased under his care, the warmth of his touch chasing away any discomfort.

By the time he added a third finger, you were panting softly, your forehead resting against the mirror as you pushed back against his hand. Matt pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, "You're so good for me."

When he finally pulled his fingers away, you felt both relief and anticipation flood through you. You heard the rustle of fabric behind you as he undid his own pants and then, the unmistakable warmth of him pressed against your entrance.

Matt's voice was soft but filled with need as he asked one last time, "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, your voice firm despite the breathlessness in your tone. "I want you, Matt. Please."

The groan that escaped him was deep and throaty, filled with both desire and relief. He pressed forward slowly, the stretch of him filling you inch by inch as you gripped the mirror for support. He paused when he was fully seated, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to steady himself.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the fullness of him. "Yeah," you managed, "You feel incredible."

Matt let out a shaky laugh, his head resting on your shoulder as he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His hands slid up and down your body, gripping and caressing, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The cabin swayed gently with his movements, the creak of the structure blending with the soft sounds of your shared pleasure.

As he found a rhythm, his lips returned to your neck, peppering kisses and soft bites along your skin. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless moan, and he groaned in response, his hips snapping forward with more urgency.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Each snap of his hips sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans echoing softly in the small cabin.

Matt's lips found your neck again, sucking and biting gently as he thrust into you, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn't get enough. One hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, angling it to pull you into a heated kiss as his other hand squeezed your ass, pulling you closer with every thrust.

The glass behind you fogged with your combined heat and the view outside was forgotten entirely as Matt buried himself inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against your ear.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice hoarse, and you nodded, your own climax rapidly approaching.

"Me too," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body tensed.

His thrusts grew erratic, his grip tightening on your hips as he chased his release. When he finally came, it was with a deep groan, his body trembling against yours as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding through you.

The warmth of it sent you over the edge, and you cried out, clutching him tightly as pleasure washed over you in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet hum of the cable car the only sound as you both caught your breath. Then Matt wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "So are you," you replied with a small, tired smile.

And for the first time in a long time, Matt felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

Josh sat hunched over on the massive leather couch in the lodge's main room, his elbows digging into his knees and his head cradled between his hands. His fingers tangled into his hair, tugging lightly as he mumbled to himself, barely audible words blending into the eerie silence.

"Keep it together," he murmured under his breath, fingers curling tightly against his scalp. His voice was barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the wind howling against the windows. "Just… keep it together."

He repeated the words like a mantra, but they did little to quell the storm brewing inside him.

His sisters' faces flashed behind his eyelids, Beth's soft smile and Hannah's nervous laugh, and his stomach twisted like a vice.

His foot tapped a frantic rhythm against the floor and his gaze darted toward the hidden cameras he'd planted days before. They were all in place, every angle meticulously planned.

But it didn't feel controlled. Nothing ever felt controlled anymore.

The sudden knock at the door made him flinch. His head snapped up, his heart racing in his chest. It wasn't time yet. It was too early. He froze for a moment, his mind spinning.

Quietly, he rose from the couch, his socked feet making no sound against the hardwood floor. As casually as he could manage, he glanced around the room, his eyes darting to the hidden cameras he had set up earlier. They were all still there, their little red lights glowing faintly in the shadows.

Satisfied, he moved to the door, pulling it open with a practiced smile ready on his lips.

But the smile faltered the moment he saw you standing on the porch.

Josh didn't know what to do. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as he took you in, the cold wind brushing past you and ruffling your hair. You stood at the edge of the porch, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket, your shoulders hunched slightly against the cold.

"Hey," you said softly, offering a tentative smile.

Josh's throat felt tight and it took him a second longer than it should have to respond. "Hey," he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

There was an awkward pause, the kind that would've never existed between you before. Before his sisters. Before he pushed you away.

"Uh, come in," he said finally, stepping back to let you inside.

You nodded and stepped over the threshold, your boots squeaking slightly against the polished wood floor. Josh closed the door behind you, the lodge suddenly feeling much smaller with you in it.

He watched as you looked around, your expression shifting as your eyes moved over the familiar space. The place hadn't changed much, but he knew this place probably felt as haunted to you as it did to him.

"You're early," Josh said, breaking the silence. His voice sounded strange to his own ears-too casual, too detached.

"I wanted to talk to you," you said, turning to look at him. "Before everyone else got here."

Josh swallowed hard, his heart pounding again for a completely different reason.

"Oh."

Another pause.

He gestured to the couch. "Uh, sit? If you want, I mean."

You nodded and moved to the couch, sitting down on the edge as if you weren't sure you belonged there. Josh sat a little farther away, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees.

For a while, the conversation was surface-level-small talk about the weather, the drive up, little things that didn't mean much but filled the silence.

But even as you spoke, Josh couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

You looked good. Just like he remembered. Better, even. There was something about the way the firelight caught your face, the soft glow making you look almost ethereal.

He hated himself for pushing you away, for hurting you, for letting the walls he built around himself trap you on the outside.

He found himself fixating on the sadness in your eyes. It hadn't always been there. You used to look at him with so much warmth, so much trust. Now, you looked… fragile.

It made him sick.

He realized you'd said something and forced himself to tune back in, nodding as if he hadn't just been drowning in his own guilt.

"…I was worried about you," you were saying, your voice tinged with hesitation. "I mean, I still am."

Josh swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers curling into fists on his knees. He didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to admit that he wasn't okay without opening the floodgates.

"I missed you," you added after a moment, your voice quieter now.

That was the breaking point. Josh's breath hitched and he looked down at his hands, his vision blurring slightly at the edges.

"I missed you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Josh felt you shift slightly closer, your presence grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in months.

"I don't blame you for shutting me out. I know you were hurting. I just…" You hesitated, your voice breaking slightly. "I wish you'd let me help you."

Josh's chest tightened painfully, guilt and longing warring inside him. "I didn't want you to see me like that," he said, his voice raw. "I didn't want you to pity me."

"I never pitied you, Josh," you said firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "I love you."

Josh's heart pounded as your words lingered in the air.

It was both a balm and a dagger.

He wanted to believe it was still true. That somewhere, beneath the sadness in your eyes and the awkward distance between you, that love remained. But as you sat there, your voice soft and soothing, his thoughts began to twist, spiraling back into the familiar chaos that had consumed him over the past months.

His gaze drifted to the cameras he'd hidden, their red lights blinking faintly in the dim light. He hadn't planned for you to arrive early, hadn't prepared himself to see you alone, so exposed. You were supposed to be with the others, part of the game, part of the plan.

But now you were here, sitting so close, your presence stirring something raw and conflicted inside him.

Should he spare you?

The question lingered like a shadow in his mind. You weren't supposed to be here, not yet. If he told you to leave, to get far away from this place before the others arrived, he could keep you safe. But if he kept you here, then what? Would you understand him when it was all over?

Only one thing became clear to him.

He didn't want to lose you again.

"Josh?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, grounding him, and he realized he'd been silent for too long.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as he met your gaze. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice rough. "I was… thinking."

"About what?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

Josh hesitated, his fingers twitching against his knees. "About us," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly in surprise. "Us?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair.

"I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. About what I did. How I pushed you away."

Your expression softened, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. "Josh, you were hurting. I understood that."

"That doesn't make it okay," he said quickly, his voice gaining a sudden intensity. "I shouldn't have shut you out. I shouldn't have—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

"I shouldn't have let you go."

The silence that followed was heavy, but Josh pushed through it, his eyes locking onto yours.

"You were the best thing in my life," he said, his voice raw and unsteady. "And I ruined it. I ruined us. And for what? So I could sit here and drown in my own misery?

"Josh—"

"No, let me finish," he said, his hand reaching out to grab yours. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I don't expect you to forgive me," he said softly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your hand. "I don't even know if I deserve it. But I want to try. I want to fix what I broke, if you'll let me."

You didn't respond right away and the silence stretched between you. Josh's mind raced, doubt creeping in like a cold wind, but then you squeezed his hand gently, your expression softening.

"I missed you," you said simply, your voice trembling slightly.

Josh's breath hitched, and he felt something warm and fragile bloom in his chest. "I missed you too," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Josh felt his paranoia waver, the weight of his plans slipping to the back of his mind as he leaned closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, your breath warm against his skin, and he hesitated for just a moment before closing the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant and unsure. As your lips moved against his, it deepened. Josh's hands cupped your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he poured everything he couldn't say into the kiss.

It ignited something in Josh he hadn't felt in so long it nearly overwhelmed him. A year's worth of bottled-up emotions exploded all at once as your lips pressed against his, soft but insistent.

His hands slid up to cup your face, his fingers trembling slightly as they moved to tangle in your hair. He kissed you deeper, harder, his breath hitching when you pressed closer, your body fitting perfectly against his.

When you broke away for air, both of you gasping, his lips trailed along your jawline, then down to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

"Josh," you murmured, your voice breathy, and the sound of his name on your lips made his knees go weak.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as his hands gripped your waist. "I need you so bad."

Your answer was a soft moan as you pulled him back into another kiss, your hands tugging at his shirt, your urgency matching his. He let out a low groan, helping you push the fabric over his head before his hands found their way under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your warm skin.

He wanted to memorize every inch of you, to re-learn every curve and angle of your body. The feel of your skin against his palms sent his mind spiraling, and he found himself unable to focus on anything else.

Somehow, the two of you managed to stumble off the couch, your hands fumbling with each other's clothes as you made your way to his room. Josh couldn't stop kissing you, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

When you finally reached his room, he pressed you against the door, his chest heaving as he looked at you. Your shirt was hanging off one shoulder, your lips swollen from his kisses and the sight of you made his heart ache in the best way.

"You're so handsome," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "God, I want you."

Josh let out a shaky breath, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he lifted you, carrying you to the bed. He laid you down gently, his eyes raking over your body as he climbed on top of you, his lips finding yours again.

Every kiss filled with unspoken emotion as his hands roamed your body, his touch reverent as if he were afraid you might disappear. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your pants, his breath hitching when he felt how warm and soft your skin was.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly as he pulled back to look at you.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. "Yes, Josh. I want you."

His heart swelled at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you again as he carefully removed your pants, leaving you bare beneath him. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his hands trailing over your thighs as he whispered, "You're perfect."

He reached into the drawer beside his bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. His hands trembled slightly as he poured some onto his fingers, the anticipation building in his chest as he positioned himself between your legs.

Your trust in him is evident in the way you relaxed beneath him. Josh's heart pounded as he pressed a finger against your entrance, the slickness of the lube making the motion smooth. He pushed in slowly, his breath hitching when he felt the tightness around his finger.

How was he supposed to handle this?

He worked you open carefully, his free hand stroking soothingly along your thigh as he added a second finger. Your soft moans filled the room, each sound going straight to his already hard cock.

Josh added a third finger, his movements deliberate as he stretched you, preparing you for what was to come.

When he finally pulled his fingers away, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock aching with the need to be inside you, his breath hitching as he pushed forward slowly, the tight heat of you surrounding him inch by inch. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he bottomed out, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of the feeling.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first.

Josh's hands roamed your body, gripping and caressing as he poured every ounce of his emotion into his movements.

When he finally reached his peak, his body tensed and he let out a deep groan as he spilled deep inside, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he buried himself as deep as he could.

The only sounds audible were your ragged breaths and the faint creak of the bed beneath you. Josh collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

You pressed your gloved hand against the cold rock face, steadying yourself as you climbed up the wall near the lodge gate. The gate had been locked and you'd found yourself scaling the icy terrain instead of taking the easy way in.

As you hoisted yourself onto the top ledge, you heard a familiar voice from below.

"Hey! Was there a lot of traffic, or did you just take the scenic route?"

You looked down to see your older sister, Sam, standing at the bottom of the wall with her hands on her hips, a bemused expression on her face.

"It was a nightmare," you shot back. "Endless hours of brake lights and honking. And to top it off, there was a note from Chris on the gate saying it's locked, so I had to climb up here like I'm in an action movie."

Sam groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. "Of course it's broken."

"Your turn, big sis. Want me to guide you?" You said with a grin, holding out a hand.

Sam rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smirk tugged at her lips as she grabbed onto the wall and started to climb. You stayed close, offering encouragement and holding out your hand when she struggled for the final push. "C'mon, I've got you."

With one last huff, Sam grabbed your hand and you pulled her up and over the top. The two of you jumped down together, landing with a satisfying crunch in the snow below.

The path to the cabin cable was peaceful, the sound of snow crunching underfoot the only noise. The trees stretched overhead, their branches heavy with snow and the cold mountain air was sharp but refreshing. As you approached the cable car station, Sam pointed toward a bench near the platform.

"There's Chris’s bag," she said, gesturing toward the familiar backpack sitting against the wooden bench.

"But no Chris," you added, scanning the snowy clearing. "Chris?" you called out, your voice carrying through the stillness

There was no response, only the faint rustle of wind through the trees. You frowned, walking a few steps forward as your gaze swept the area. "Where'd he go? He wouldn't just leave his stuff out here, right?"

"Maybe he is inside the bag," Sam suggested, her tone humorous.

You were about to call out again when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Turning, you spotted Sam crouched near Chris's bag, her head bent slightly as she stared at something in her hands.

"Are you snooping through Chris's phone?" you asked, your voice filled with mock scandal.

Sam looked up at you, her expression unapologetic as she smiled. "No," she replied, holding the phone out of your reach.

"Uh-huh. And you didn't think to invite me?" you teased, stepping closer to her. "Come on, let me see."

She laughed, shielding the screen with her body. "No way. I know what's best for you, little brother."

"Oh, come on," you protested, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse of the screen.

"Trust me," Sam said, her tone teasing as she stood up and held the phone behind her back. "You don't need to see this."

"That just makes me want to see it more," you countered, crossing your arms.

Sam laughed again, but as you reached for the phone, she turned her back to you completely. For a brief moment, her expression softened as she glanced at the screen. The chat was still open on your conversation with Chris, and she debated what to do.

Should she tell you how Chris saved your name?

Her lips twitched as she imagined your reaction, the flush of embarrassment that would spread across your face. But ultimately, she decided against it for now.

The stillness of the snowy clearing was shattered by a loud rustle and a sudden, unexpected voice.

You and Sam both jumped, a startled yelp escaping her as you instinctively took a step towards your sister. Chris appeared from behind her, grinning like a kid who'd just successfully pulled off a prank.

"Geez, Chris!" Sam said, her hand clutching her chest as she glared at him.

"Did I accidentally hire you as my secretary?" He pointed at the phone on Sam’s hand before taking it back.

You rolled your eyes, your lips curving into a smirk. "Sorry, sir. We didn't realize your bag was a classified area."

"Alright, alright. I'll take better care of my precious belongings in the future, starting with finding new friends. Now come here. I've got something to show you." he said, motioning for you and Sam to follow him.

He led you a little further down the path until you reached a small clearing. A wooden structure loomed ahead. A rustic shooting range, complete with a rifle resting on the counter and several targets set up in the distance.

Chris turned around, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "Ta-da!" he announced, gesturing grandly at the range.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "So, your 'cool find' is a place to shoot stuff?” She shook her head in disbelief.

Chris turned his full attention to you. "What do you say? Are you interested in seeing just how great my aim is?” Chris said, his grin widening as he moved toward the old rifle propped up on a stand.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk growing. "Alright, Chris. Impress me."

“Gladly," Chris said, his grin turning smug as he stepped up to the line.

“You’re about to see a true marksman in action." He picked up the rifle, turning toward you with a cocky tilt of his head.

Sam snorted, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "This I've gotta see."

He took his time setting up, his movements exaggerated just enough to make you roll your eyes. He aimed the rifle, his gaze narrowing as he focused on the first can.

The shot rang out, the sound echoing through the small space as the can flew off the railing. Chris straightened, a satisfied grin on his face as he turned to you.

"Not bad," you admitted, leaning against the wall.

"Not bad?" Chris repeated, feigning offense. "That was a perfect shot!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Everyone could hit something so big that close."

"Challenge accepted," Chris said, aiming for the next target.

As he continued to fire, his tone grew more playful, his remarks directed almost exclusively at you.

"If you ever find yourself in a zombie apocalypse, I'm definitely the guy you want by your side," he said after hitting another can.

"Good to know," you replied, your smile widening.

Sam clapped her hands together, breaking the moment.

"Alright, lovebirds," she said, pushing off the wall. "Let's move this along before we freeze out here."

Chris laughed, shaking his head as he set the rifle back on its stand.

The cold air hit your face and you couldn't help but glance at Chris, his easy grin still firmly in place. He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly and for a moment, the chill of the mountain didn't feel quite so sharp.

The hum of the cable car grew louder as it approached, its bright light piercing the snowy dusk. You, Sam, and Chris made your way to the platform, the crisp mountain air biting at your cheeks as you walked.

"Finally," Sam muttered, hugging herself with both her arms. "I thought this thing would never get here."

The three of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of snow crunching underfoot the only noise. But as the cable car slowed to a stop, Sam turned to you, her brow furrowing slightly as she remembered something.

"Hey," she said, tilting her head, "did you lock your car?"

Her words hit like a bolt of lightning. You froze, your mind racing as you tried to recall the last few moments before you'd left the parking lot. Had you locked the doors? Pressed the button on your keys? The memory was frustratingly blank.

"I…" you began, but the uncertainty in your tone betrayed you.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Go check before you give yourself a heart attack."

You let out a groan, already turning toward the trail that led back to the parking lot. "I'll be right back. Don’t wait for me."

As you jogged away, Sam turned to Chris, who stood awkwardly on the platform, shuffling his feet. His gaze flickered between you and the cable car and he hesitated, his mouth opening as if to speak but then closing again.

Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle war in his expression. "Well?" she said, nodding toward your retreating figure.

Chris's eyes widened slightly. "Uh, you mean…?"

"Go," Sam said, her voice warm but firm. She smiled knowingly, crossing her arms as she stepped toward the cable car. "He'll appreciate the company. And, you know, you might actually get to talk to him."

Chris blinked at her, his hesitation melting into a sheepish grin. "You sure? I mean, I don't want t-"

"Chris," Sam interrupted, her smile widening. "It's fine. Go."

Grinning proudly now, Chris nodded and took off after you, his boots crunching against the snow as he jogged to catch up.

"Hey!"

The sound of Chris's breathless voice made you turn, and you couldn't help but laugh as you saw him bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving. "Out of shape already?" you teased, folding your arms as you waited for him to recover.

Chris shot you a mock glare, though his grin betrayed him. "I'll have you know," he said between breaths, "I am in excellent shape. I just… wasn't prepared for the sudden cardio." He protested, straightening up and adjusting his glasses. "This altitude is killer. Plus, I'm carrying, like, two extra layers."

You shook your head, laughing softly as the two of you began walking back toward the parking lot. Chris stayed close to your side, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he glanced at you every now and then, his grin lingering.

When you finally reached your car, you pulled the keys from your pocket and pressed the button. The lights flashed, confirming the doors were locked, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"Well, crisis averted," you said, slipping the keys back into your pocket.

You glanced at the next cable car making its slow descent down the mountain, its light barely visible through the snow. With a shrug, you turned and hopped onto the hood of your car, brushing some of the snow away before settling down.

Chris hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, leaning against the side of the car with his arms crossed. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as he watched you.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing patterns in the thin layer of snow beside you. "I don't know," you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's weird being back here after… everything."

Chris nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah. It's been a lot, hasn't it?"

"More than I thought it would be," you said, letting out a soft sigh. "Part of me wasn't sure if I even wanted to come."

Chris was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. Then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "You know, we could just bail. We'll head to my place, order a ton of pizza and spend the whole night beating my game library. What do you say?"

You couldn't help but laugh, the suggestion managed to ease some of the tension in your chest. "Tempting," you admitted, shaking your head.

"The offer's always on the table," Chris said, grinning. But then his smile softened and he took a small step closer. "In all seriousness, though…"

He placed a hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you. "I think this is a good thing," he said, his voice steady. "Coming back here, I mean. It's a chance to… I don't know, start over. Maybe even get things back to how they used to be."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the earnestness in his gaze. "You think so?"

"I know so," he replied, his grin returning. "And, hey, if it gets to be too much, you've got me. Anytime you need to vent, or take a break, or… you know, crush me in Mario Kart or something. I'm here."

The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way, and you felt a small smile tug at your lips. "Thanks, Chris," you said softly.

"Anytime," he replied, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he stepped back.

Chris felt your hands on his shoulders. His breath hitched as he looked down at you, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the soft, warm smile on your face.

God, you look so good when you smile like that.

The thought came unbidden, but he didn't push it away. How could he? You were so close, your face lit by the soft glow of the sun’s distant light and the way you were looking at him was enough to make his chest tighten.

Chris couldn't help but notice how much brighter you seemed in this moment, even though he knew this place carried so many heavy memories. The fact that you could still smile like that, still radiate that warmth despite everything, left him feeling both in awe and completely unworthy of you.

And then you spoke, your voice pulling him from his thoughts.

"Hannah and Beth's disappearance," you began softly, your smile faltering just slightly, "it made me realize how quickly everything can change. Like, in just a couple of minutes, your whole life can be flipped upside down. It scared me," you admitted, your voice quieter now. "It made me think about how much I keep inside, how much I don't say because I'm too afraid, or I think it's not the right time."

You paused, letting out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "But who knows? Maybe tonight some monster will show up and kill me in the snow. So…"

Chris blinked at your attempt at humor, though his heart was already racing. He felt a rush of nervous energy flood through him and when you tilted your head up to look at him, the sudden proximity made his breath hitch.

"What—" he began, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound steadier. "What is it you wanted to say?"

His eyes betrayed him, flickering down to your lips for a fraction of a second before darting back up to meet your gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of excitement and panic swirling in his mind as he waited for your response.

You hesitated, your expression shifting into something more vulnerable. Chris could see the nerves in your eyes, the way your hands fidgeted slightly against his shoulders.

"I like you, Chris. " you began, your voice barely audible. You took a shaky breath, your gaze dropping briefly before meeting his again. “I've liked you for a long time."

The confession hung in the air, your words fragile but sincere. Chris froze, his mind racing as he tried to process what you'd just said. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

His gaze flicked to your lips again, the movement unintentional but impossible to stop.

"You…" he began again, his voice shaky. "You have no idea how long I've—" He cut himself off, his breath catching as you leaned in, your eyes never leaving his.

The first brush of your lips against his was so soft, so tentative, it felt like a spark catching fire. Chris's breath hitched, his body going rigid for a split second before he melted into the kiss, his hands lifting to rest lightly on your waist.

The world seemed to fade away. Everything disappeared, leaving only the warmth of your lips moving against his.

Chris's heart pounded as he tilted his head, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips moved against yours with more confidence now.

You made a soft sound in the back of your throat and the noise sent a jolt of electricity down Chris's spine. He couldn't stop himself from pressing closer, his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if to anchor himself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping softly for air, Chris didn't move far. His forehead rested against yours, his glasses slightly fogged from the warmth of your breath.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. "I've liked you too. For so long. I just… I didn't think…"

He trailed off, his words failing him as he searched your face. His heart ached at the mix of nervousness and hope in your expression and he let out a shaky laugh, his lips curving into a small, self-deprecating smile.

"I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to say it," he admitted softly. "You're amazing, smart and funny. I’m just some guy that cracks jokes with an awful aim."

"Your aim isn't that bad," you teased, your voice lighter now as you leaned into his touch.

Chris laughed, the sound soft and breathless. "You're my best shot," he said, his tone turning teasing but his eyes holding a depth of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

You smiled, your hands sliding from his shoulders to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. "You're such a dork,” you murmured fondly.

"Yeah," he agreed, his grin turning sheepish. "But I'm your dork now, right?"

Your smile widened, and before you could reply, Chris leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper, more confident, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head as he poured every ounce of his feelings into the movement.

His lips were soft but insistent, his touch firm yet tender as he held you close. The warmth of his body against yours was enough to chase away the chill of the snow around you, leaving you completely caught up in the moment.

Chris didn't care about the cold, or the time, or the fact that the cable car was probably waiting. The only thing that mattered was you.

When you pulled back again, your breath mingling in the cold air, Chris let out a soft, almost dazed laugh. "Wow," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was… wow."

Your smile returned and Chris felt his chest swell with something he could only describe as pure happiness.

Note: Do you have a favorite among the four? I think you all know which one is mine, but I’d love to hear your thoughts! <3 I’m also open to any feedback or constructive criticism you might have.

[video-killed-the-radio--star]

me personally I don't care how unlikable and horrible a character is if I have decided that they will be my favourite I will ignore it all. hope this helps <3

[boney-t]

[allamericandaily]

SPENCER & JORDAN 6.10 "Mass Appeal"

The people who didn't respond to my text inviting you to the brunch at Layla's tomorrow. Oh, my God, Jordan, it's really not a big deal. Hey, you didn't get left on read, babe, ok? I want answers.

[sunnysoulzz]

BOSTICKERS, DEVON ENJOYERS! My friend is making fics for Devon bostick characters, go check her out 😼

[cowboylikesmitty]

Jordan Henderson - Adam Lallana - Dorothea