#the door to the basement is too far from the door to outside for good shapes

[fooltofancy]

the shape of small estates really is my villain origin story.

bastard man. enemy.

[sea-lanterns]

THE PURGE

synopsis: (slasher! AU) a group of purgers break into your home.

featuring: arlecchino, columbina, sandrone, signora

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, mentions of blood, vague descriptions of murder, there is a body, mentions of weapons, home invasion, masked se.x, five.some, org.y, transfem! columbina (she has a di.ck), strap ons, oral (both reader and character receiving), face sitting, fing.ering, slight exhibitio.n, may be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: high rise invasion.

Unloading the last of your groceries from the car, you closed the trunk and began walking towards the front entrance of your house. It was a somewhat chilly, somewhat warm day, March 21st to be exact. While the weather was probably enjoyable to those outside of your country, today was going to be a day of misery to many. From March 21st to March 22nd, The Purge will take place; a twelve hour period in which all crime including murder was going to be legal. 

You weren’t exactly sure why your government decided to mandate such a brutal “holiday” but unfortunately as someone who didn’t participate in the Purge, this made your life a lot harder than usual. You had to take extra precaution throughout the year to not make any enemies in your life, even going as far as to shut yourself off from having any friends or close family. 

‘Just twelve hours…I’ve done it several times before, I can do it again.’ You told yourself, unlocking the door to your house. ‘I’ll have to set up the security system again. Only three hours until the Purge.’ 

“Hey neighbor!” You heard a familiar voice call, causing you to look over at your neighbor who was perched against his fence. “Three hours until the Purge, huh?” 

“Ahaha…yeah.” You were getting nervous. It was never a good idea to bring up the Purge with anyone. 

“Hope you’re prepared. Lots of psychos out there who have access to the most dangerous weapons available. I even saw a woman with a chainsaw last year. Had a leather mask and everything.”

“Yeah…” you smiled, but honestly you just really wanted to get in your house.Your neighbor –although seemingly friendly– always gave you the creeps and you tried your best to be on his good side no matter what. 

“Well…Hope for the best for you during this Purge!” He smiled unnervingly wide, making you shiver and fumble to open your door. “Yep! You too!” You called out quickly, shutting the door behind you as quickly as possible. You locked the door immediately and carried your groceries to the kitchen, where you proceeded to double check every exit of the house.

You went through the yearly ritual. Double checking the doors and barricading them with heavy furniture, locking every single window and drawing the blinds (you would activate the security systems later), as well as making your way down to the basement to make sure all your weaponry was secured. 

…And by weaponry, you really only meant the small handgun you kept in a safe down there. You weren’t a super strong person by any means, so a handgun was probably your best suited weapon when it came to defending yourself. However, the handgun was only used as a last resort, so luckily you’ve never had to use it before on any of the previous Purges. Hopefully this year you won’t have to use it still.

You grabbed the handgun and made sure it was loaded before making your way upstairs. Due to being a member of the upper class, you had managed to reinforce your home with a special security system used for keeping your home safe during the Purge. Though it was only three hours before the Purge started, you weren’t taking any chances and activated it now. 

You watched as every door and window in your house became protected beneath a large metal shutter, turning on your security cameras so you could watch whatever was happening outside from the safety of your home. You nestled into the cozy chair of your desk and mentally prepared yourself for another twelve hours of manslaughter you would have to endure. 

You watched from your phone as the infamous warning for the Purge began to play. The alarm never failed to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end, the long list of rules flying over your screen as you peeked through your security cameras. So far, the only things you could see were a bunch of hooligans setting fire to a trashcan in some random alleyway. Okay, not bad. You expected a few arsonists in your neighborhood anyway…

You grabbed a bag of chips from your snack stash and opened it, continuing to watch as you stuffed your face with food like you were binging your favorite TV show. Though the Purge was a very scary time, it never directly harmed you through all the years you survived…

At least, you thought. 

For the next two hours, you simply watched in the comfort of your own bedroom while people in your neighborhood were being slaughtered left and right. You winced when you watched a poor victim get a machete to the face by some woman in a hockey mask. Oof…that’s unfortunate. You heard another scream from afar as another victim got stabbed repeatedly with a kitchen knife by a woman wearing a ghost mask. Hm…why did they look familiar? You wonder if you’ve seen them before… 

You took a sip from your drink and laid back, before nearly jumping out of your skin upon spotting a group of Purgers on your porch. Despite being masked, you could tell from their figures that they appeared to be women, with four of them in total all staring at you through the security camera. 

‘Oh…shit.’ You felt your heart sink as you waited for them to say something, anything. You hadn’t expected any Purgers to actually bother you tonight, as the most that Purgers would do is knock over your trash cans and maybe graffiti your garage door. 

One of the Purgers —a woman wearing a dove-themed mask— stepped forward and smiled at the camera. She raised a delicate hand, before ringing the doorbell and speaking into the camera. 

“Hellooooo~ Is this (Reader)’s residence?” She sang beautifully, toying with the ends of her hair. You tried to figure out her appearance to see if she was familiar to anyone you knew or talked to, but you don’t recall ever meeting a woman with black hair and bright pink streaks. 

You stayed quiet, hoping that they would just assume you couldn’t hear them and move on. This however, didn’t work as the group of women were persistent.

“Hellooooo~ I know the cutie is in there…” The dove-masked women cooed, ringing your doorbell again before one of the other Purgers got impatient. A taller, blonde woman wearing a moth-themed mask grumbled and raised her weapon, “It’s no use. Let’s just find a weak spot and break in.” 

“Nooo! That’s so barbaric, we must treat a woman gently.” 

“We are quite literally, purging her home.” Another woman chimed in, this time a short woman with beige-colored hair wearing a doll mask. 

“Yes, but I would like her to respond before we break in.” The dove-mask pouts. 

“Enough.” Finally, the fourth woman spoke up, her posture and height intimidating as she stepped to the front. This time it was a woman wearing a harlequin mask, her gaze piercing through the camera. “We know you are listening, (Reader). It isn’t polite to keep your guests waiting.” 

She smirked at the camera, as if edging you to press the call button and respond. You felt as if your blood was being drained from your body, a morbid feeling of death looming over you like a cloud. You had no choice, if you didn’t respond they would just try and break in anyway, so perhaps it would be wise to try and convince them not to? 

You did not think that was plausible, but Purgers were still human. Maybe they will be human just for you… 

“C-Can I help you?” Fuckkkkk you did not mean to sound like a timid fast food worker working at the Drive Thru. You mentally cursed yourself as you watched the other four women smile at your compliance.

“There’s her cute voice!” The dove-mask exclaimed excitedly. “I was worried some other Purgers may have gotten to you already…” 

“Can I help you?” You stated again firmly, wanting them to leave as soon as possible. “If you’re looking to rob my house, I’m afraid I don’t have anything of value.” 

“Oh…sweetheart,” the harlequin-mask chuckled, sliding her hand across the handle of her bloody ax. “You’re in there.” 

Oh great. Yeah why bother spending the Purge robbing stuff that is actually useful to you, when you can murder people instead. Genius. 

“…Okay, I know what you are implying, but I beg of you not to kill me! I promise that after the Purge is over I will compensate for you all somehow. Whether it’d be money or anything else you’d like, I’ll do it!”

“Open those ears of yours, girl. We want you, not your house.” The moth-mask tsked, a bit of annoyance present on the edge of her voice. “We are coming in whether you like it or not. As long as you are inside, we will get in too.” 

“…No need to be so mean, Signora.” You heard the dove-mask huff, folding her arms. “Just hold tight, baby. We’re coming to find you~”

You let out a small, panicked squeak of terror and cut the mic, standing up from your seat and making your way to your drawer to check on the handgun you had stashed away. You couldn’t believe that this was the year you would have to use it, and your adrenaline was pulsing like crazy. 

‘All loaded’ you mentally prepared yourself for the worst, taking deep breaths and walking back to your computer monitors that displayed the cameras. You let out another panicked squeak when you saw that the Purgers had left your front porch, now scattered around your property doing god knows what. 

“Why this year of all years?” You whined, keeping your handgun close to you as you kept looking through the monitors. Okay, okay, they were just circling your house, no biggie. Their weapons appeared to be of class 1 only, so it would be next to impossible for them to break down your security systems. 

Really, though you were on edge, you should be relatively safe so long as the power doesn’t—

Almost as if your fate was being toyed at the hands of a God, your lights suddenly went out and the sound of your metal shutters started coming up. Oh…you were fucked now.

‘…I am dead.’ You wanted to scream, but knew better as it was time for survival. It was every woman for herself, no beating around the bush. Logistically you weren’t sure if you could take out four Purgers on your own, but if you were going to die tonight you were going to die fighting ugly. 

You heard one of your windows shatter and flinched when you heard footsteps now roaming the downstairs of your house. Okay, you got this. You technically have an advantage as you have a firearm and they don’t know where you are, you should play this safe. 

You held your breath and stealthily made your way downstairs, holding the gun. You saw the broken window in your living room, swallowing thickly before looking around to see if there was anyone around. Your eyes suddenly landed on a bloody trail that looked as if a body had been dragged through your house. Did they just kill someone? 

You suddenly heard a thud behind you and whirled around quickly, only to accidentally let out a gasp when you saw the dead body of your neighbor just lying there on your kitchen floor. You managed to hold in a scream, but it was no use when you felt strong arms hold you from behind, a yell escaping your throat as you felt one of the Purgers’ grip on you.

“Mm…not a screamer…quite the silent one, aren’t you?” You heard a rough, raspy voice as the woman behind you grabbed your gun and tore it away with ease. Just how strong was she?! Your breath hitched when you felt the sharp end of a knife press against your throat, her voice humming with pleasure. “I like quiet girls.”

From your peripheral vision you saw that it was the Purger with the harlequin mask, her hair mostly white with a few streaks of black, yet another person you were not familiar with. Footsteps then entered the kitchen from the thick fog of darkness, a giggle leaving another one of the Purgers. 

“You caught her! Heh, I guess you won this one, Arle~!” It was the Purger with the dove-mask, her cute and feminine voice not matching her appearance at all as her white dress was covered in blood. “I want to pet her!” 

“Wash your hands, Columbina.” Another voice came, this time it was the doll-masked Purger who came walking out of the darkness. “I don’t want you getting blood all over her. She’ll stink.” 

“A little blood won’t hurt her, Sandrone.” 

You whimpered when the woman named “Columbina” walked closer to you, her sadistic smile present as she ran her fingers across your cheek. You would flinch away if not for the harlequin mask —you believe she was called Arle?— holding you in place, her muscles tightening around you and preventing you from squirming. 

“Ah…how cute!” Columbina cooed. “I almost feel bad for scaring her, she looks like she’s about to cry.”

“She looks prettier that way.” Came a deeper, more mature voice, as the moth-masked woman —Signora, if you remembered correctly— came into view. You gulped when Signora strutted over to you and took your chin in her hand, admiring you from behind her mask and turning your face to look at all your angles. “Loosen your grip a bit, Arlecchino. The girl looks like she’s about to pass out from blood circulation.” 

Arlecchino let out a titular hum. “And why would I do that? If I let her go, she can run off.” 

“Not with us here. We all can catch her quite easily.” Sandrone said matter-of-factly. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t hurt.” Arlecchino leaned down and whispered gravely into your ear. “I don’t recommend running, little one. All four of us can hunt you down quite easily, and if you ran out into the open during the Purge, well…”

She chuckled and playfully blew on your ear. “Someone else might get to you before us.” 

Your body involuntarily shivered and you felt the back of your ear grow hot. Upon seeing how much of an impact she had on you, Arlecchino smirked and carefully let go of you. 

You should run. In fact, you weren’t sure why you were staying in place surrounded by these murderous women. Every instinct and sense of logic in your brain was telling you to make a run for it, but another part of you knew that it was fruitless to even make it out of your house. 

“You know, you should be thanking us.” Signora said coldly. “Without us here, you probably would’ve been murdered by that neighbor of yours.” 

“Wh-What?”

“Oh! She speaks…” Columbina giggled. “Believe it or not, we found him messing around with some circuit box in your yard. Looks like he was the one who knocked out the power to kill you himself.”

Your eyes landed on the body of your neighbor laying on the floor. His eyes still wide open like he was stuck in time, lips parted like was in the middle of screaming before meeting his bloody demise. “Of course…we took care of him for you! Wouldn’t want our pretty girl to get hurt.”

Columbina smiled and kicked his body away like it was nothing, looking up at you like they had just done a great thing. You kept looking between the Purgers and the dead body of your neighbor, unable to cope with the fact that this would be the first Purge where you might end up like another body bag. 

“…Is this where I get killed now?” You laughed weakly, cold sweat dripping down your face. “I…I’m not sure what else to do at this point, get on my knees and beg for my life?”

“Ooh. I like the kneeling and begging part.” Sandrone comments bluntly. Meanwhile, the other women chuckle at your pathetic display, with Arlecchino pulling you towards her and murmuring in your ear. 

“Oh, we aren’t interested in hurting you. At least not that much.” She suddenly slid her hands up your stomach and towards your breasts, a gasp leaving your lips when she fondled them through your shirt. ”…Soft.” 

“Easy now, Arlecchino. She hasn’t accepted yet.” Signora hums, gently pulling Arle’s eager hands away from your chest. Arlecchino slips out a small growl of dissatisfaction, but pulls away anyway to comply with Signora’s requests. Despite how refined Arlecchino seemed to be, you could tell she was a woman of a lot of restraint, and she had been itching to feel you up despite her calm demeanor. 

“If it wasn’t obvious by Arlecchino’s…desires,” Signora comments, stroking your face, “We want your body, but not in the way that you think.” 

“You’re just so pretty…especially when your bottom lip wobbles in fear,” Columbina whispers. “How could we not want you this way?”

Oh…oh.

Now you know why they haven’t killed you yet. 

“Look at her face, all dumb and bewildered.” Sandrone comments, the faintest of grins appearing on her face as she took in your confused expression. 

“What do you say, let us have some fun with you?” Arlecchino purrs from behind, making you shiver in anticipation and a little bit of curiosity. 

“…I suppose.” You said softly, a little hesitant to agree. 

“Oh my, what a promiscuous thing she is,” Signora comments, a sly smile making its way to her lips. “Wanting to take all four of us at the same time, what a whore.” 

“Easy now, Signora. She can’t help how curious she is.” Columbina smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Arle~ Be a dear and carry the poor lamb upstairs. The dead guy is killing the mood.”

“Of course.” Arlecchino grinned wolfishly and took you in her arms, throwing you over her shoulder like it was nothing while going up the stairs. You could only watch helplessly as the three other women followed after you, smiling at how utterly pathetic you looked while being carried by Arlecchino with one arm. 

…You weren’t sure how you got up to this point. One moment you were almost pissing your pants in fear, and the next you were suddenly thrown into your bed and surrounded by four Purgers. All of them stared down at you with a look of pure joy in their eyes, practically ravishing you on the bed with just their gaze alone. 

Surprisingly, it was Sandrone that made the first move. For as quiet as she was, the woman crawled on top of you and grabbed your face for herself, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Oh my! I didn’t expect Sandrone to be so eager…” Columbina giggled. Meanwhile, in the corner of your eye; you could see Arlecchino unzipping her pants and Signora taking off her gloves. 

You couldn’t watch them for long, however; as Sandrone forcefully pushed you back and shoved her tongue down your mouth, turning the kiss into a more seductive dance of tongues. The doll-masked woman moaned at the taste of you, pulling you in closer to her as she aggressively pushed her hands up your shirt. 

“Mm…what a sloppy kisser. I could tell you’ve never had another woman in your mouth before.” Sandrone pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongue with hers. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that for you.” 

“Arle, no need to be so impatient. She’s still on the bed.” You heard Signora gently scold Arlecchino and looked over to see what she was doing. The harlequin woman was gritting her teeth and tugging her trousers off as fast as she could, the base of a harness and what looked to be a crimson-colored strap peeking through the gap of her zipper. 

Oh…they were prepared for this. 

“Hey. Don’t look at her, look at me.” Sandrone sounded annoyed and gripped your face to look at her again, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Pfft. Sandrone is getting jealous.” You felt the bed space behind you dip, and in the midst of making out with Sandrone, you felt Columbina’s lithe and petite body encircle yours. “Let’s see how good you taste.” 

Columbina’s lips latched onto the back of your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin hard enough to leave a few bruises. The choked whimpers you let out made the dove-mask and doll-mask moan with pleasure, Sandrone pulling you more against herself while Columbina grinded her hips from behind. 

As Sandrone’s hands fondled your breasts under your shirt, you felt something small yet hard growing under Columbina’s dress. It was clear the two women were getting heavily turned on, with how Sandrone was starting to tug off your shirt and Columbina grinding faster against you. 

“Let’s put that sloppy tongue to use.” Sandrone comments bluntly, lowering you down against the bed as she raises her dress to pull off her panties. Columbina takes her position between your legs, pulling your pants off and eagerly wanting to stuff her face in your cunt. “No teeth now. Try to be a good girl.” Sandrone slides her panties off and spreads her legs over your awaiting mouth, using her fingers to give you quite the show of her sweet pussy glistening with juices. The doll-masked woman didn’t wait for another second and took her place at her rightful seat, letting you taste the sweet tang of her cunt smothering your lips. 

Meanwhile, Columbina was eagerly pulling your own panties down with her hands, her tongue —which was freakishly long— swiped at her bottom lip the moment she saw your bare entrance. “Mm…Gotta make sure you’re wet enough to take Arle’s strap.” She whispered, parting your legs gently –though her nails were digging into your thighs– and licking a long stripe across your clit. 

“Nnnh–!” You moaned into Sandrone’s own clit, causing her to buck her hips needily. “Fuck…her tongue feels so good.” 

“I can only imagine,” Columbina coos, smothering her face deeper and darting her hot tongue out quickly. Her hands trailed down to her dress and began lightly jerking herself off while she ate you out, moaning into your thighs as she ravished your insides. You hadn’t expected to be double teamed so easily, but you didn’t mind, eating out Sandrone and tasting her folds more thoroughly while Columbina masturbated to the taste of you. 

“Are you– mmppgh…guys ready?” Sandrone moans out sweetly, riding your face harder as she looks back at Arlecchino and Signora. Both women had stripped out of their festive Purger outfits, with Arlecchino wearing nothing but a thick, girthy strapon and Signora dressed in the prettiest lingerie you had ever seen. “Oh come on Signora, that’s– fuck, overkill for the Purge, isn’t it?” 

“The girl likes it.” Signora tuts, casting you a smirk beneath her mask. “Is she wet enough, Columbina?” 

“Nope!” Columbina pulls her head away from between your thighs, her face smeared in all your juices while your thighs are left a trembling mess. 

“Liar.”

“She needs to be wetter! Let me eat her out more!”

“Columbina.” Arlecchino finally makes her presence known, crawling over to the bed and pulling her hair back, forcefully pulling her away from your cunt. Columbina whined and gave Arlecchino a glare, not quite finished with eating you out yet. “Arle, I said she needed to be wetter.”

You couldn’t believe you had four women in your bed, all fighting for you during the Purge. You would voice your concerns if not for Sandrone still whining and grinding on your face so roughly. Though the woman was a small, seemingly gentle woman, it was obvious she was one of the more desperate ones of the group. 

“Suck on her tits or something. I want her tight cunt swallowing my strap.” Arlecchino growled, possessively stroking your thigh while Columbina huffed. “Fine.” She gave your inner thigh one last bite, causing you to jolt and accidentally make Sandrone come from the sudden movement. 

“Oh– nnngh!” Sandrone’s little legs trembled greatly, her orgasm washing over her as she ground her hips more firmly. The sweet, succulent taste of her cum washed down your throat, making your eyes flutter shut in how good Sandrone tasted. “Was her tongue game that good, Sandrone?” Columbina purred, suddenly taking an interest in your mouth. “Yeah, her movements are amateaur at best, but somehow feel really good?” 

“Heh, good enough for me.” Columbina proceeded to shove Sandrone off and take her place, dangling her small, yet very eager cock in front of your lips. “Let’s get those pretty lips sucking me off, hm?” She smiled and caressed your cheek before slipping her tip inside, watching with satisfaction as you took all of her length so easily. Meanwhile, Arlecchino and Signora were more occupied on your raw pussy, which was twitching with need after being neglected for too long. Signora cooed and pressed a teasing kiss to your clit, lightly blowing on it before rising to focus on your breasts. 

“Poor baby is feeling neglected up here, huh?” She teased, the blonde woman leaning in to lick a long stripe across your tits before latching one nipple in her mouth. She took pleasure in the way your back arched off the bed, the Fair Lady’s tongue swirling around hungrily as her fingers swirled around your clit. “Give me some lube, Arle. I want to finger her for a bit before you start.” 

You heard the sound of growl before Arlecchino reluctantly obliged. “Make it quick, I want to fold her into the mattress myself.” She gave Signora a bottle of lube and you could only moan when you felt the Fair Lady’s cold fingers circle your entrance with a slimy substance coating them. When you moaned however, you choked on Columbina’s cock, causing her to groan and buck her hips. “Goodness her throat is…quite tight.”

Signora chuckled at that and pressed her fingers deeper into your entrance, watching with great pleasure as they sunk in with little to no resistance. “And quite wet. You did a good job of loosening her up, Columbina.” Signora proceeded to finger you to see just how far you could take her. Her fingers –which were very long and thin– stretching you out and brushing up against all your tender spots to see which ones would make you squirm. 

As this was happening, you felt Columbina’s tiny cock start twitching in your mouth, signaling that she was getting close. Unable to keep your moans to yourself, you stifled a small whine and traced the underside of her shaft with your tongue, watching as her face made all sorts of lewd expressions. “Oh f-fu– I’m gonna come…” she whimpered, riding your face faster before shooting a hot load down your throat and throwing her head back. 

“Oh? What a good girl, making two of us orgasm already.” Signora hummed, pulling her fingers out and licking them clean. “I guess it’s time to get to the main event now.” 

Columbina tiredly got off you and went to join Sandrone, who was lying blissfully on the bed and watching how you took the final two women. The taste of sex and cum lingered on the back of your tongue, yet you were now hooked. You gazed at Arlecchino who had been waiting impatiently at the foot of the bed, stroking her fat strap and making sure you saw. 

“Hold her down, Signora.” Arlecchino commanded, watching as you were manhandled to switch positions. No longer were you lying flat on your back, as you were now sat up against Signora with her chest against your back, bare breasts and stomach pressed against your skin and making you shiver. “Such a good girl, letting us manhandle you as we please…” Signora’s deep, husky voice whispered in your ear, her hands making their way down to your thighs and keeping them spread for Arlecchino. “Have fun with her, Arle.” 

Arlecchino didn’t need to be told twice. She crawled on top of you and angled her strap to brush against your entrance. Her eyes narrowed as she saw how needy your pussy was after going through three women, seeing how twitchy and puffy it was. “You three really did a number on her.” She mumbled, brushing the tip of her strap between your folds. When you trembled and let out a gasp at the feeling, both Arle and Signora smirked, with Signora trailing her hands down to pull your folds apart. 

“Do your worst. She wants it.” 

Arlecchino grinned and sandwiched you against Signora, slowly pushing her strap into you and watching as you were speared open on her faux cock. “Fuck– she’s tight still…” She grumbled, enjoying the way your pussy gripped the silicone so roughly. 

“Well you did buy a girthy one.” Sandrone says matter-of-factly. 

“I know, but she seems to enjoy it anyways.” Arlecchino laughed wolfishly and continued to spear you open while your cunt struggled to accommodate her girth. You had never felt so full before when taking a toy, letting out sweet whimpers as the smallest beads of tears formed at your lashes. 

“Oh, don’t cry…” Signora hummed behind you, licking your tears away. “It’ll feel so good soon~”

The harlequin let out a grunt as she pushed her hips further, watching as her strap finally nestled itself comfortably inside you. She could see the slightest bit of arousal pool at the base of her strap, and that only spurred her on more, starting to thrust at a shallow pace. You threw your head back against Signora’s shoulder, feeling her soft lips press kisses on your tear-dotted face. Arlecchino was just so deep, filling your insides on just her girth alone while she thrusted. 

“My…what a peculiar sight.” Arlecchino chuckled, her eyes filled with pure desire as she saw you trembling beneath her. Your legs pathetically squirming yet being held down, clearly overstimulated now that you had to go through the fourth Purger. 

“I haven’t even bottomed out yet.” She smiled wickedly, pinning you in place while she nearly folded you in half. If not for Signora sitting there behind you, you were sure she would have pushed you into a full on mating press into the mattress. “Hold her tighter, I’m going all in.” 

Every woman in the room watched with interest as Arlecchino took a deep breath and slowly inched herself deeper until your cunt hit her harness. With each inch, you felt a loud whine rip through you, the fat tip of Arle’s strap pushing against your walls and forming a slight belly bulge. “Oh my…” Signora’s eyes glazed over with lust, trailing her hand up to rest atop the bulge. “Look how deep you are in her, Arle.” 

“How cuteee!” Columbina cooed. “I wanna give her a belly bulge too!”

“Maybe another time. The poor girl looks as if she’ll pass out after this round.” 

All four women leered at you hungrily before Arlecchino pulled out and slammed back in. They took great pleasure in watching Arle ravage your insides, wet smacks filling the air as your expressions formed into even lewder ones. Signora looked the most ecstatic, her hand gently pushing down on the bulge each time Arle bottomed out and thrusted back into you. 

The extra force of Signora pushing down on your stomach and Arlecchino fucking you like an animal was almost too much to handle. Each punctuated thrust of Arlecchino’s hips made your poor body bounce rather weakly, your legs scrambling to pull away from Signora’s grip and latch around the harlequin’s waist. 

“She’s getting close. I can feel it…” Arlecchino growled, craving to see your cum form a ring around her base. “Come for me…I know you can do it.” 

She held onto your ankle and gave it a small kiss, looking down at you as you writhed around like a worm. The way your leg twitched and the tears trailed down your face was enough to make all the girls swoon over you harder. You were just too cute, they were glad they broke in to get you. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you felt your pussy tense up before cumming all over Arlecchino’s strap. The harlequin groaned at the sight and started thrusting even faster, going feral at the sight of your cum drenching her faux cock and helping you ride out your orgasm. The other woman in the room giggled at the sight of you reduced to a whining, babbling mess, Arlecchino finally pulling out and admiring how soaked you made her strap. 

“Goddamn…” she grunted, dropping your legs to the bed and watching as you collapsed against Signora, too tired to even keep your eyes open. 

“Look at her, barely able to stay awake.” Sandrone comments, gently massaging one of your thighs. “We really did a number on her.” 

“Awww, I really wanted to fuck her too.” Columbina pouts, tracing the hickies and bite marks the women left on your body.

“Maybe when she wakes up. For now, let’s let the poor girl rest.” Signora gently caressed your cheek and gave you a small kiss. “Close your eyes, little one. We will keep you safe throughout the rest of the Purge.” 

Arlecchino crawls up to join you by your side, pulling you against her while all the other women adjust to snuggle around you, essentially turning this into one big cuddle pile. “Rest well,” Arlecchino whispers huskily, your eyes growing heavier as you bask in the embrace of the four Purgers who broke into your home, yet showed you the best way to celebrate the gory holiday.

“Happy Purge.” 

[romancherry]

caged in silk (4) — false alarm

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ after a false dissapearance gave them quite the scare, joel loses control in his task to teach you a lesson.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, dark!fic, dubious consent, unprotected p in v, rough vaginal sex, missionary, squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, breast & nipple play, hickeys and marking kink, posessive and dominant joel, submissive reader, sub space, daddy kink, heavy makeout session, crying kink, praise kink, pet names, pussy pronouns, aftercare, manipulation, dirty talk, swearing and other explicit language, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.111

author's note ➝ hello again! it took me more time to motivate my lazy ass to write this chapter than actually finishing it. i hope you like it and if you do please leave a comment or motivational reblog 🌸 if i missed any warnings let me know.

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it was almost midnight when the men realized it has been quiet for far too long. they were so deep in their thoughts and work that they hadn’t realized just how fast time has passed. 

joel was fixing the dripping, rotten faucet in the kitchen. marcus was cleaning some rifles, tending to them as if they were the most precious pieces of porcelain. he was so very focused as he tried hard not to lose count on the ammunition. javier sat on his laptop, chain smoking and looking up surveillance cameras in the DEA office in medellin. the only pause between drags of smoke was when he lifted the glass of whiskey and brought it to his lips while listening very carefully on what the american ambassadors discussed – debating important classified cases, blissfully unaware of the hidden microphones javier placed right under their noses before resigning from this god forsaken job almost 3 years ago. 

joel glanced at his watch and scoffed when he realized just for how long he’s been working on fixing the faucet. he muttered a low good night to the boys, his voice grumpy and heavy with sleep, before making his way to his bedroom, already dreaming about how good he will sleep tonight with you in his bed.

he expected to find you under the covers, maybe reading, maybe already curled into your pillow like you usually were by this time of night. but when he pushed the door open and found the bed untouched, the lights off, and your scent faint in the air — not warm and recent, but old, like you hadn’t been there in hours — something in his chest coiled tight.

“sweetheart?” he called. 

nothing. 

he checked the bathroom next, knocking once, pushing open the door. empty. no sound of water. no used towel. 

he paused, brow furrowing.

“marcus?” he called out, already stepping back into the hallway. “you seen her?”

marcus freezes his actions entirely and puts the rifle on the couch next to him, his expression already serious. “i thought she was in your room.”

“no,” joel said, jaw beginning to grind. “she’s not.”

footsteps echoed on hardwood as javier came from the kitchen, still holding a half-empty glass of whiskey. “what do you mean she’s not?”

joel turned to face him, voice edged now. “i mean she’s gone.”

the silence that followed was sharp — thick with tension, panic, anger. 

javier placed the glass into the sink without looking. “check everywhere. right now.”

they split like shadows in motion — no yelling, no chaos, just the kind of cold, calculating urgency born from fear.

marcus hit the basement first, flashlight already in hand. he searched every corner like he was clearing enemy territory — eyes sharp, movements efficient. no sign of you.

joel moved through the rest of the first floor. he checked the pantry, the garage, the laundry room. doors were still locked. windows undisturbed. “nothing,” he muttered into his radio to the others.

javier moved fastest, pacing the perimeter outside barefoot, his phone already out, checking security cams and motion sensors. “no alarms triggered,” he hissed. “no movement out here in the last hour.”

joel stopped in the hallway, hand gripping the molding beside the doorframe like he needed to steady himself.

you wouldn’t try again, he told himself. not after last time. 

he closed his eyes, trying to focus on regulating his breathing and stop the panic from building his heartbeat rhythm until the point of explosion. he tried to think. to bring reason to light – to convince himself that you wouldn’t be so stupid and naive to run away during the night.

why would you want to run? what did they do to you this time? was the picnic too much? have you learned nothing from your last mistake?

his instinct dared to snap his own self out of the building panic and overwhelming thoughts. a wandering, fleeting thought which almost left his brain as quickly as it entered.

the last door in the hallway which led to a guest bedroom none of them ever used. 

the door was not even shut. it was slightly cracked. joel pushed it open with slow fingers, the old brass hinges creaking. and there you were.

fucking. sleeping.

your chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, soft little exhales brushing the pillow. the blanket was wrapped around your body, one arm tucked underneath it and the other loose at your side. a book you never finished reading lay on the nightstand. the lamp was off. you’d gone to bed hours ago — quiet and unbothered.

joel didn’t say a word.

he stepped back into the hall and leaned against the wall for a beat, rubbing the heel of his hand over his face. relief poured over him like a wave, heavy and thick. he called it in over the radio.

“guest room.”

a few seconds later, marcus appeared, and behind him, javier — barefoot, heart pounding, eyes wild. they stopped in the doorway and stared.

“she’s fine?” marcus asked, voice hushed.

“fast asleep,” joel said. “like she didn’t just take five years off my life.”

javier ran a hand down his face. “fuck.”

you stirred, a little frown tugging between your brows as if you sensed their presence even in sleep. you turned onto your back, hair fanning across the pillow, lips slightly parted, still unaware.

joel walked in quietly and knelt by the bed. his hand reached out and brushed your cheek gently, thumb ghosting across your temple.

“jesus,” he whispered. “you don’t even know what you did to us.”

your eyes fluttered open, groggy and dazed. “…joel?” you murmured, blinking slowly at the sight of all three men surrounding the bed.

javier’s brows lifted, and he huffed a short breath. “you scared us shitless.” 

“i — what? why?” you asked, throat rough.

“why did you have to fall asleep here, sweetheart? you know we never enter this room,” javier asks.

“tired. jus’ wanted quiet…” 

javier knelt beside joel, his hand resting over your ankle beneath the blanket. “you could’ve said something, cariño. we tore the damn house apart.”

“yeah. thought you took off again,” joel added.

you blinked, then winced, voice still sleepy. “s’rry. didn’t mean to freak you out.”

marcus crouched on the other side of the bed, his gaze hard and unforgiving despite the quest to find you turning out successful. “we’ll lock every fucking door in this place from now on. don’t pull a stunt like that again, sweetheart.”

joel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and tight. “he’s right, baby. you gave us one hell of a panic attack.”

you mutter one last tiny apology in joel’s ear before he lifts you off the bed and gently carries you to his bedroom, the place where you’ve been sleeping every night since they kidnapped you. each time was more comforting than the last; joel didn’t present himself as a threat and always kept a respectable distance between you two, although he always ached to touch and hold you tight against his chest. 

after he places you on the mattress, you notice marcus giving him a suggestive glance. 

joel leaves your side and makes his way to his brother’s side. out of your eavesdropping range.

“teach her a lesson. know you got a soft spot for her, but she needs to learn," marcus whispers in joel’s ear, his instructions clear. joel hesitates. doesn’t say anything for a couple of moments. he isn’t a fan of his older brother’s demands. he doesn’t want to break you in. not like this. 

marcus senses joel’s second thoughts and scoffs at his brother’s weak spot for you. “if you don’t, i will.”

that made joel’s eyes darken. not with thrill or hunger, but with the overwhelming need to protect you from marcus’ roughness. he failed to do so after your escape attempt and had no choice but to let marcus punish you. this time, he’ll carry the burden himself, in the only way he knows how. 

joel nods his head once and gives marcus a look of reassurance and cooperation. once marcus is convinced that joel will keep his promise true, he steps out of the doorway and shuts the door behind him. 

joel turns slowly towards the bed, watching the curiosity in your eyes mix with a potion of anxiety. you can tell. his tense stance. the way he won’t look you in the eye – not quite. his mind races. his hands tremble slightly, and you’re not sure why. is it because of anticipation or the tethering loss of control?

“take off your clothes.”

the order makes you flinch, your instincts telling you to back away slightly. your mind is fully alert now. the exhaustion and gentle yearning for the comfort of a warm and soft bed have been gathered together and thrown out the window. 

“i won’t ask again.”

shivers crawl up your spine at his intimidating tone. if he was trying to inflict fear upon you, to make you forget about all the times he was gentle and careful with you as if you were a porcelain doll — he has done it. with minimal effort. 

you carefully lift yourself off the bed and stand in front of him. there were only a few feet between you. he could take two large steps and you’d be done for. clothes ripped off, a hand wrapped around your throat while he did as he pleased. 

you try to banish these thoughts out of your head and presume it’s best if you try to hurry up slightly. you don’t want things to come to that. you still believe that if you cooperate, he’ll be gentle. a part of you tells you that he doesn’t want to do this. 

but that part of you is so wrong, my dear. because while joel doesn’t want to scare you away and force you into submission like marcus wants, he is still, at the end of the day – a man. 

a man who has built a life out of butchering people for money since his daughters died. a god among men who ripped the soul out of living and well breathing creatures and never felt sorry for it.

until the day you came into his life. when he saw you for the first time and figured you are not a thing to be broken and burned alive. but to be molded and carefully guided into a lifestyle he and his brothers crafted specifically to force you to accept them as your new reality.

in conclusion; he wants you. oh, how much he wants to give into his carnage and tear you apart with his cock. only when he remembers the way your moans filled his ears like a melody when your orgasm flooded his mouth the last time…

god, it’s maddening. infuriating. 

but he must not act on primal instincts and think with his cock. no matter how painful it feels. no matter how the majority of the blood in his brain now flows in his cock right now. and he can barely resist anymore. 

he watches your lip tremble and eyes grow heavy with tears as you quietly do as instructed. 

you start with your socks, quickly discarding them on the floor so you don’t keep him waiting. so you don’t let him think you’re dragging this out to think of an escape.

your loose sweatpants come off next. when you reveal your bare thighs to him, he swears he feels like a medieval man who saw ankles for the first time. 

skin so soft. flesh so plump and glowy. his mind drifts off to when his head rested in between them to devour your pussy. how good it was when he felt the pressure of your muscles against the sides of his skull. an orgasm so intense he was worried you’d crack his head like a watermelon. but he loved it so much he made a promise to himself he’ll experience the same pain again when he made you ride his face and smother him with your thighs.

your t-shirt was next to drop on the floor. it belonged to none other than joel. he felt a sense of pride and ownership each time he saw you wearing his clothes around the house. knowing your scent mixed with his drove him crazy because he yearned to inhale directly from the source. 

tonight, he would achieve this and more. 

the sight of your bare breasts made his heart skip a beat.

he has never seen such work of art in his life. your full chest looking as if it’s been crafted by the gods themselves. like aphrodite chose you as her avatar.

he doesn’t wait for you to take your panties off. in two long strides, he breaks the barrier between you two. his hands immediately jump at your breasts, cupping them in earnest. 

he weighs and plays with them in his calloused palms. he is not being a gentleman at all – rough fingertips graze over your buds until they swell. the moment they rise to angry little peaks, his mouth latches onto one while the other is being tended to vigorously.

you quickly grow overwhelmed by his lustful attack. his warm, wet tongue lapping hungrily at your nipple, sucking and drinking as if the elixir of life itself courses through it. 

the other poor, tortured nipple – red and aching from the relentless pinching and twirling between his thumb and index. you squirm in his hold, hands grabbing a tight hold of his salt and pepper hair. 

you moan, but you don’t think it’s because of displeasure. yes, there is pain. but there is also beauty.

beauty in the way he makes you feel so wanted. so worshipped. he kisses and bites and marks every inch of your chest. he groans in both relief and pleasure when his mouth runs a path upwards on your body and finally stops at the nape of your neck. 

not only does he pull a bit of flesh in between his teeth to paint your skin in bruises – he also inhales deeply at the same time as he sucks. 

your natural scent – finally flowing through his nostrils. so sweet and musky at the same time, with notes of a warm sleep and the masculine scent of his t-shirt.

when he is satisfied with his work over your neck, his lips trace a path towards your jaw. not once do they depart from you.

you’re both breathless when he pulls you in for a kiss. he didn’t even look at you before he claimed your mouth. he needed to do this before he could stop himself.

his hands are everywhere on the lower half of your body now. he keeps you flushed against his chest, your nipples grazing uncomfortably against his blouse. he grinds and ruts himself against your thighs like a stray dog. makes sure you have nowhere to go too – his hands presenting themselves as a tight and sure anchor over your buttcheeks; smothering, kneading and occasionally slapping the tender flesh until it jiggles like jelly in his palm.

you give up on trying to put space between you. no matter how much force you channel into your hands and wrists, you can’t move this brute wall off of you. 

instead, you accept him. pull him closer, even. the act makes him moan into your mouth, deep and rough. 

the kiss bruises you. makes you shake in his grip and you’re sure that if he wasn’t holding you now, you’d fall. 

he is not here to make love to your mouth. at least not yet.

he kisses you as if he’ll never get another chance to. he needs to explore your hole and claim it with his teeth and tongue before he can soothe the ache he caused.

it’s possessive. controlling. desperate and needy. you don’t bother fighting for control and dominance. you just let him take what he wants in order to indulge himself in the pleasures he has been denying and ignoring for too long.

he shocks you when he takes you into his arms. gathering a handful of your asscheeks before using his sheer power to lift you in his lap.

he drops you both onto the mattress. your back pressed between a soft cloud and a massive brick.

not even once does he break the kiss. he swallows every moan and gasp that comes out of your mouth and greedily licks every corner with his tongue, teeth occasionally lathering attention to your bottom lip to drag and nip it.

his hands move from your ass to fumble with his own sweatpants. he is so thankful to just drag them down his thighs along with his boxers; his cock finally having enough room to breathe.

you try to break the kiss to get a look, but to no avail. he keeps your head in place with his free hand resting on your neck. his fingertips firmly pressing into the sides, a silent command to stay still. his mouth still makes out with yours hungrily as if he’s trying to keep you busy and not allow any anxiety creeping in your pretty little head. 

the hand he used in order to free his cock from his boxers moved directly to your clothed pussy. his index ran one trail up your slit to feel the cool wetness sink into the material before gathering it in between his fingers and pulling it to the side.

he didn’t waste any more time. as soon as he cleared the way, he grabbed himself by the base of his cock and gathered your juices on his own leaking head before sliding home in one smooth thrust.

you both broke the kiss at the same time to fill the room with your own moans. once he bottomed out and felt the dangerously addicting way your walls squeezed him, he didn’t know how to stop. he just lost every last drop of control he thought he had and unleashed all the pent up desire he felt for you.

“oh god, babygirl,” joel chanted as he threw his head back, eyes shut in bliss. “fuck, i can’t stop. i’m so sorry.” 

he moved his hand from your throat to the back of your head, gently lifting it a few inches to bring you closer to him. his other hand made its way under your knee. making sure to keep your legs as open as possible for him to fuck you as hard and deep as he liked.

“joel, n-no! oh my god – fuck!” 

the burning sensation left your tight channel as quickly as it came. it was soon replaced by complete and utter pleasure as your already soaking wet pussy gushed and clenched around him as he pistoned in and out of you. 

your walls presented no restraint. your pussy greedily welcomed him as if she has waited her entire life for this moment. to fulfill her duty as nothing more than a cocksleeve – a hole to serve him warmth and pleasure. 

your broken moans ambitioned him to sink deeper inside you. he plunged in deep, hard and fast, not giving you any time to adjust as he took whatever he wanted from your willing body. god, he hoped it wouldn’t come to this. he hoped his restraint and control would not shatter so quickly. but when he saw your beautiful naked body and felt you soaking wet through your panties, he knew you were made for him. he knew this pussy had a mind of her own. 

“atta girl. pussy knows what she wants, huh? t’be fucked and destroyed by a nice, big cock. fill her up with cum and never let her go.”

he tears his gaze from your swollen pussy to your face and really looks at you. 

blabbering, crying, moaning and utterly ruined. 

pink sore eyes filled with glossy tears. flushed cheeks. mouth slightly open in a round shape with a string of saliva dripping in the corner. your own finger resting on top of your tongue. a physical guardian to stop more moans and pleas from making their way out.

“fuck, look at my girl,” joel praises. he presses a soft plump kiss in between your eyebrows – an unusual contrast to the way he ruts roughly between your thighs, assaulting your poor pussy as she gushes her release all over his cock and the sheets beneath. he lost count of how many times he made you cum until now. he’s more than convinced you never actually kept count, your mind too blank and pliant to bother yourself with too much thought.

“what’s wrong, baby? cock so good it fucked ya stupid?”

you shake your head in approval, your eyes wide and glossy like precious pearls and diamonds. there’s no coherent thought behind those eyes – he scared them all away. no insecurities or anxiety in the way to stop you from feeling him at full intensity. 

and he’s so proud. so so proud he made all the voices in your head shut down for once. his heart swells with how much trust you put in him to break you apart and put you back together.

“that’s a good girl. mhm, the best girl in the whole damn world. my good girl gon’ let me cum deep inside her? hm? swell her belly full a’ babies?”

you nod in earnest, a big bright smile creeping up your face like it’s the best deal in the world. like it’s your whole life purpose.

“y-yes, d-daddy. p-please fill m-me up. wan’ your babies!”

your innocent little plea does it for him. his rhythm wavers as he buries himself to the hilt and cums deep inside you, filling your belly up with a big load. 

he stays attached and connected to you both physically and spiritually. he swears he can feel your hearts beating in sync as he holds you close to his chest and soothes your nerves by placing a few wet gentle pecks on your cheeks and forehead. 

“shhh, baby. my sweet baby. gotcha now. did so, so well for daddy. my perfect lil’ girl.”

he forces himself to remove his softening cock from between your legs. once he does, he makes sure not to leave you alone and sweaty for too long. he takes off his damp blouse and uses it as a makeshift rag to clean you up. he soothes every cry and unintelligible word that comes out of your sweet mouth.

“here, honey. drink. you did perfect. so proud of ya," he praises as he helps you drink a much needed glass of cold water. 

after he’s done cleaning both of you up, he joins you under the blankets. his fingers trace the side of your arm as he looks at your relaxed form. so obedient, full and content. 

“bet ya enjoyed your lesson, huh?” joel murmurs, aware of how close you are to drifting off to sleep. “don’ ever scare us like that again, sweetheart.”

“mmmm,” you nod while keeping your eyes closed, although you’re not so sleek in hiding your small grin of mischief, “no promise."

he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at your little attitude. “you’re trouble, sweetheart. what are we gon’ do with you?”

oh, he knows exactly what they will do with you. 

and in the bedroom next door and the living room respectively, javier and marcus have figured out a few plans in their mind themselves. 

because you may not realise it yet, but joel had just paved the way for his brothers. made their life easier. broke you in and gave you a taste of what your future will be with, under and on top of them. 

without needing to even speak to each other, they all know you’ve just become addicted. soon enough, one man will not be enough to satisfy the burning hunger inside you; you’ll need all three to satiate your needs and take care of you.

and honey, they will. in each of their own, unique ways – they will make you forget why you even fought them off in the first place.

[rafesteddy]

since you said you haven't gotten anything about fight club rafe ima start it🤭…can we see one where we go watch him fight and after we wrap up his hands and cuts yk kiss his bruised up knuckles yk cutesy fluff😚

🤭🤭🤭 ahhhh hi bb thank you for your ask 💕🩷 introducing frat/fightclub!rafe

ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪᴀᴍɪ • ꜱɪɢ ᴄʜɪ • ᴅᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ ʙᴀɢ • ʟᴏʏᴀʟ • ᴀɴɢʀʏ • ꜱᴘʟɪᴛ ʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ • ᴋɴᴜᴄᴋʟᴇꜱ ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇᴅ • ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx • ʜᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ 4 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ • ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

𝓯𝓻𝓪𝓽/𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓫!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

+18 -> 𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯

c/w: violence, blood, alcohol use, pet names, weed referenced, language, flirting, pining, implied illegal activity (fight club)

2K

You didn’t expect much when you got paired in a group project with Rafe Cameron. You assumed he’d be the type to disappear the second things got serious—a tall, tanned frat boy who coasted on charm and barely skated by on C’s. The kind who rolled in late, half-baked, reeking of beer and some drugstore cologne he thought made him smell expensive.

He was late, of course. But when he finally walked into the library—well over six feet tall, slouched in a faded hoodie and a backwards cap—his smile undid every sharp remark you had rehearsed in your head.

His blue eyes had that lazy, half-lidded look that somehow still managed to cut right through you. His hair was all sun-lightened and messy, like he spent most of his days outside and only wandered indoors when he absolutely had to. And then there was his voice—low, slow, that soft Southern drawl curling around your name like he’d said it a hundred times before. It sent a flutter straight through you before you could stop it.

The worst part? He wasn’t dumb. Not even close. He was sharp—quick with numbers and even quicker with his wit. He made jokes just to see if he could make you laugh, and when he caught you smiling down at your notes, he smirked like that was the prize he’d been chasing all along.

Now the two of you are texting. And that, honestly, is the real problem.

He’s charming—genuinely charming. Not in that rehearsed, frat-boy way, but in a way that feels warm and effortless. The kind of charm that makes you reread his messages twice, smile once, and bite your lip before you even realize you’re doing it.

As soon as you pull up, you have to do a double take. It’s not a regular house—it’s a mansion, straight out of a movie. Palm trees line the front, windows lit up like a stage, and the bass is already thudding in your chest before the music even reaches your ears. Luxury cars are parked all along the circular driveway, and as soon as you step out, you’re hit with the scent of weed, cologne, and overpriced liquor bought with someone else’s money.

Inside, it’s somehow even more insane. The ceilings are massive, chandeliers catching the light, and the whole place is wall-to-wall people. Red cups slosh. Sweat clings. The music crashes down like a wave, too loud to think over.

You barely get past the front door before someone’s calling your name.

“Ayy, sweetheart—Rafe’s down in the basement,” a guy shouts over the music, nodding toward the far end of the hall. “He’ll be up in a sec. You want a drink or somethin’ while you wait?”

Wait?

Something about his tone makes you pause. The casual shrug, the way he angles his body slightly—subtle, like he’s trying to steer you back toward the kitchen without making a scene.

“Rahhhh…”

You hear commotion over the pounding bass, cheering seeping from under the door in the direction you were headed.

“No, I’m good,” you smile, sugary sweet as you turn on your heels. His hand closes around your wrist as you step away. Not hard, not rough, just firm enough to let you know you shouldn't but you yank your hand back.

The hallway stretches before you, smoke already slipping under the door, fading into the chaos behind you. You walk toward it, one slow step at a time, heart picking up with every cheer that rises from beneath the floorboards.

The second the door creaks open, everything changes. The music down here is deeper, bass vibrating through the stairs as you descend. A sharp scent hits you—smoke and weed—that thickens with every step you take.

You squint through the haze. Shapes blur together at the bottom of the stairs, shadows dancing in the dim, pulsing light.

And Rafe… Rafe’s in the middle of it.

Your stomach sinks, wide eyes rounding the ring of bodies packed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat and smoke. Fistfuls of bills flash through the dark, voices barking bets over the music.

Rafe stands tall, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his tanned skin. His shirt’s long gone, tossed somewhere in the haze, and his torso is slick with sweat—every ab cut sharp, v-lines disappearing into a pair of weathered jeans. His stomach tightens with every breath, blood trickling from one nostril as he casually brushes his thumb across it. His sharp jaw flexes; biceps swelling as he tightens his fists.

His stare locks on you through the smoke, a wild look flashing in those blue eyes. His lips twitch like he might say your name but his opponent lunges, making you gasp.

A punch cracks across Rafe’s jaw, sending his head snapping sideways. Blood sprays from his split lip, and the crowd erupts. You flinch, hand flying to your mouth.

And then he snaps.

Rafe lunges, fists a blur. The crowd closes in, a wall of noise rising as his opponent staggers, arms barely lifting before Rafe strikes again. One blow sinks into his side, the next snaps his head back—a clean, punishing hit that feels less like a fight and more like a performance he’s perfected. The guy hits the floor with a sickening thud, and Rafe doesn’t let up until he's physically pried off him.

The whole place explodes with shouts and applause, cash thrown, falling to the seedy basement floor, floating through the fog like rain.

They grab Rafe’s wrist and throw it in the air, marking the winner. His chest heaves from the effort, every muscle strung tight. His skin gleams with sweat, his pretty face smeared with blood.

His eyes lock on yours again, the blues of his eyes almost gone, pupils blown wide. His eyes fall down your body, raking up nice and slow as his tongue glides along his bottom lip, catching some blood and soothing the sting as his lips curl into a smirk.

He holds out his hand, and the ring master drops a thick stack of cash on top.

Rafe starts toward you like the fight never happened—like he didn’t just leave someone broken on the floor for a pile of cash.

The crowd parts around him, hands slapping his back, voices shouting his name, but he doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t look away.

His hand finds your waist, and before you can get a word out, he’s already steering you toward the stairs. His palm settles against your hip, thumb dragging slow over the curve as he leads you through the smoke and noise like you’re the only thing he gives a damn about.

Back upstairs, the world keeps spinning; music blasting, party raging on like nothing happened beneath their feet.

Rafe yanks an old frat t-shirt over his head, before running his fingers through his damp, sweaty locks, tugging on a backwards hat. A golden boy disguise… And if you had shown up a few minutes later, and he had a moment to wipe that fresh blood off his face, he would have kept playing that role. “You want a drink?” He asks casually.

You glance up at him, wide-eyed, still trying to piece together who the hell this guy actually is.

His eye’s already swelling—puffy, bruising fast, the lid twitching halfway shut as he talks. Blood drips ruby-red from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, catching the collar of his shirt.

You smile, letting out a breathy chuckle in disbelief, making him return a similar look at your reaction. “We should get you cleaned up,” you murmur, your voice soft enough to draw him closer.

He grins down at you. One side only. And fuck if he isn’t the most handsome thing you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Rafe grabs your hand this time, nodding toward the stairs. The two of you move through the house. Every step you take turns heads. Girls bend to look—some with confusion, most with pure envy. You catch the flash of a few whispered comments, a tight smile from a girl who was clearly hoping to be the one in your place tonight.

His grip on yours tightens for just a second, pulling you down the hall and into a bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a solid click.

The noise cuts instantly. Like you just slipped out of one world and into another. Before you say a word, he steps in close—lifts you effortlessly, like your body fits where his hands were always meant to be.

A quiet laugh escapes you as he sets you down with too much care for a guy with blood on his face. His hands stay on your thighs a beat too long, just enough to make you hide a smile.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he mutters, not really looking at you as he turns and heads for the cabinet. He flips it open, shifts his hat like he’s thinking, then starts sorting through what’s inside. Rubbing alcohol. Band-Aids. He pushes a bottle of Advil out of the way and pulls down the whiskey instead.

He shuffles over, his eyes studying you where you sit. Rafe sets the supplies down beside you, not saying a word—but in the way he looks at you, there’s a quiet ask: stay. fix me. please.

“Mmm?” You question, through a flirty little hum as you grab a rag.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles back. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Warm water rushes out of the tap. You soak a towel, wringing it out, turning toward him.

“Did I tell you you look pretty?” He whispers. “You look so damn pretty,” his words are, barely audible as he steps between your thighs.

“You did…” You smile as your cheeks burn hot. Neither of you says a word about the fight. About what you saw. The silence buzzes between you like a live wire. “So do you,” you smile.

Rafe blushes ever so slightly, the rosy hue bleeding into the purple bruise blooming on his cheek. “I look pretty, huh?” Grabbing the bottle of liquor he twists the cap off and lifts it to his mouth, eyes pinched shut as he takes a long pull.

You start with his cheek. The cut’s not deep, but it’s angry—red and raw across his cheekbone. You press the damp towel to it gently and he leans into you, wincing but barely.

“Tough guy,” you tease, giggling as you swipe your thumb along the uninjured side of his face.

He doesn’t answer—just watches you, eyes skimming over your features: the sparkle in your eyes and the soft curve of your lips that part in concentration as you press the small bandage, carefully over the cut.

“What was that?” You murmur, the question trembling on the edge of curiosity and concern, lifting the towel to his mouth now, wiping at the mess trailing from his lip. The blood is thick and dark against the white cloth, and still, his eyes don’t leave yours.

More specifically, your mouth. His gaze lingers there like he’s weighing the cost of kissing you with busted lips.

You tilt your head slightly, waiting. “Rafe?”

His eyes lift to yours, heavy with the tension brewing between you both. “We don’t talk about that, pretty,” he mumbles, voice rough and deep.

“What if I wanna know?” You whisper, not missing the way his breath hitches slightly.

His broad shoulders shrug, crooked smile tilting again. “Well, it’s exactly what it looked like. Fightin’. Exchanging money. Winning a shit ton of it.”

“And?” You press him a little further. Clearly intrigued by the man before you.

His eyes narrow just slightly, devilish now. “And no one can know. Well, no one that’s gonna do shit about it. Understand?”

There’s no menace in it. Just that cocky, conspiratorial charm of someone who knows he’s trouble and loves being it.

You adjust on the counter, thighs spreading a little wider as you tilt in. “Depends,” you murmur, lips close enough to feel his breath. “You always this easy to bribe with a towel and a smile?”

“Only when the girl’s as pretty as you,” he says, voice smooth and smug.

Your nose scrunches, lips pursed in a playful defiance like his answer doesn't quite please you. You press the towel to his lip again, slower this time. “So you do this often?”

He shakes his head, eyes still locked on yours. “Nah. Not really… Never really met a girl as pretty as you.” It doesn’t sound like a line. Not with the way he says it.

“You’re sweet,” you giggle as his hands settle gently on your thighs.

“I can be…”

Rafe’s knuckles are bruised and busted, dusted with dried blood, and adorned with rings that glint under the bathroom lights. A flashy watch sits heavy on his wrist, ticking steady as his thumbs brush absent circles against your skin.

You dab away the last smear of blood, brushing his bottom lip with the towel. Then you look up at him—at the cut, the bruises, the softness buried beneath it all.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice low, lips so close now they’re almost brushing yours. “Well… What do—” You steal the words off his lips, tilting in to steal a kiss, tender and sweet.

His lips press into yours with a kind of care that makes your heart trip over itself.

One of his hands finds the small of your back, steady and warm, while the other lingers at his side, like he’s holding something back even now.

The air around you thickens. Your fingers brush the hem of his shirt, curling there before you even realize what you’re doing. His body doesn’t tense. It welcomes you.

He exhales into it, barely pulling back before murmuring against your lips, “I could get used to this.”

You smile into him, your lips curving against his as his hand moves behind your back, drawing you closer. “So could I.”

new tag list in my pinned post

@rafesthroatbaby | @ietss | @lilithblackkk | @rafesheaven | @rafecameronsfavourite | @my-name-is-baby | @urmotherlvr | @forgiveliv | @barnesboo1967 | @wtfisastiles | @k4yr14 | @taliescapes | @rafesbuzzcutseason | @sky-44 | @biascriptum | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @lolasangelz | @st8rkey | @lhhlver | @slut-4-rafey | @gri959 | @prettybabyyyy | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @maybankslover | @littlelamy | @buckybarnessweetheart | @angelicameron | @lover-girlyy | @rcameronlova1 | @rafesbabygirlx | @mayanqueenxx | @bimbob1tch | @dylsdaily | @blair-bears-blog | @akobx | @countryclubwhore | @esmerai-artemis | @jkmylove97 | @wtfdudesblog | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @yasmin-oviedo | @queen-cs | @floredaqueen | @alexxavicry | @aerie717 | @cokewithcameron | @premiumshitt | @rafecameronlova1

[jinxedbychaos]

Echoes of Insanity Ch. 3

Monsters and Heroes

Jinx (Powder) x twin sister

Past-

The room is dimly lit, the soft patter of rain tapping against the windows. Their family's one room home is small, but cozy. With their parents sleeping not far away on a small bed tucked into the corner.

Vi crouches low, her hands curled into playful claws as she pretends to be a growling monster. Little Powder and Ash giggle as they scramble behind a makeshift fort, built from old blankets and boxes.

"I'm a monster! and I'm gonna get you!" Vi says

She keeps her voice low, careful not to wake their parent, but playful menace in her tone sends shivers through the room.

Powder and Ash, once smiling, suddenly exchange wide eyed glances as Vi prowls toward them. Their excitement shift to unease as Vi lets out a quiet roar, the sound a little too loud for comfort in the cramped space.

"No… Vi, stop…" Ash whimpers.

Ash's voice trembles, and she and Powder huddle together, trying to hide beneath the blankets, their small bodies shaking with fear.

Vi's heart sinks the moment she sees their faces. Making her drop the "monster" act instantly.

"Hey, Hey, it's okay! I'm not a monster anymore." Vi says softly and reassuringly.

She steps toward them, her eyes widening in playful alarm as she pretends to spot something behind them.

Vi gasp "Wait… I see it! The monster!"

Powder and Ash both whip their heads around, wide eyed, searching frantically for the monster.

"Where? Where is it?" Ash whispers worried.

Tears well up in both Ash's and Powder's eyes, their imaginations running wild. Vi, quick on her feet, grabs an old stick lying nearby and swings it dramatically through the air.

"There! I'll get it! Don't worry, I'll save you!" Vi says

She swing the stick through the air, pretending to fight off the invisible monster. With each exaggerated swipe, the fear in her sisters faces melts away, replaced with awe and laughter.

"Get it Vi!" Powder says giggling.

"Go, Vi!" Ash cheers.

They watch as Vi delivers one final, exaggerated blow, defeating the invisible monster. She stands up, breathing heavily.

"It's gone. You're safe now" Vi grins proudly.

Powder and Ash rush forward, wrapping their arms around Vi in a tight hug, their earlier fear completely forgotten. Vi smiles, wrapping her arms around them pulling them closer.

"see? I won't let any monster hurt you." Vi says tucking them in the bed with her.

She lays down with them on the small bed, the three of them nestled together, safe and warm under the blankets. the soft sound of rain continues outside as their world becomes a little smaller and safer, wrapped up in each other.

Present-

We walk through the dimly lit interior of The Last Drop, heads down, going down into the basement room, we drop onto different couches Powder and me siting close together, the tension hanging thick in the air.

"Vander learns none of this." Vi mutter, her voice low but firm

"No worries there. Powder and Ash took care of the evidence" Mylo says

"We tried, okay?" Powder shoots back defensively. I chime in "You don't get it you're older" frustration bubbling up in my voice.

"You're bigger!. It, it isn't fair!" Powder adds, her small fists clenched in frustration.

"So stick with us!" Mylo snaps, his voice harsh, his anger barely contained. "Take a punch or two."

The sudden creak of a door cuts through the air, and we all turn as Vander steps in, his eyes landing on Vi, who tries to avoid his gaze. Powder and I shrink into the couch, clutching each other, trying to blend into the couch.

"Everyone alright?" Vander's voice is calm as he descends the stairs.

"Never better." Mylo says a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"Good" Vander responds "I don't suppose you can explain why it is that I'm hearing about an explosion" he continues, his hands on his back as he walks through the room "and a foot chase topside? five children fleeing the scene."

Nobody meet his eyes everyone trying to look elsewhere.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Vander's voice rises, his frustration seeping through.

"That we could handle a real job." Vi finally snaps, lifting her head to meet his gaze with defiance.

"A real job?" Vander repeats, incredulity in his voice.

"We got our own tip, planned a route, nobody ever saw." Vi says, he voice sharpening as the anger builds.

"You blew up a building!" Vander shoot back.

"That wasn't-" Vi begins but Vander cuts her off, his patience worn thin.

"Did you ever stop to think about what could have happened to you?" he nearly shouts "eh? To them?" he gestures towards us, but we avoid his gaze, trying to disappear.

"Where did you even get this tip?" Vander presses, turning his attention fully to Vi.

"We heard it at Benzo's shop." Powders blurts out, drawing everyone's attention to her.

"From?" Vander asks, his brow furrowed.

"Little Man" she admits, her voice small.

Vander lets out a heavy sigh.

Vi stands, stepping closer to him "I took us there. if you wanna be mad, be mad at me" she says, her voice steady "But you're the one who always says we have to earn our place in this world"

Vander's face hardens "I also told you time and time again, the northside's off limit" Vander shouts at Vi "We stay out of Piltover's business"

"Why?" Vi shoots back, her voice rising again "They've got plenty, while we're down here scraping together coins. When did you get so comfortable living in someone else's shadow?"

The rooms falls silent, Even Mylo. We all look at them in silence

"everyone out" Vander says, his voice calm.

Vander and Vi face each other as the rest of the gang stand and leave the room. I grab Powder's hand and together we slip out of the room.

We head upstairs, leaving Vander and Vi behind the room, their voices jus a murmur now. Claggor and Mylo stop outside the door trying to eavesdrop, Mylo leans his ear against the door. But Powder and I make our way to the back door of The Last Drop. Neither of us say a word as we step into the alley, the door creaking shut behind us. The cool air brushes against our skin, but we keep holding hands, a silent comfort.

I glance at Powder. her blue eyes wide with lingering guilt.

"Do you think… Vi's mad at us?" She finally whispers, her voice almost trembling.

I squeeze her hand "I-I don't know" I admit.

"I-I hate this" Powder whispers her lip quivering. "We mess everything up. We always do"

"It's not our fault" I reply, though my voice wavers, not fully convinced myself.

Powders look at me, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "but.. what if Mylo is right? What if we're just… jinxes?"

I pause, letting her words linger in the air. "He's wrong" I say, this time more firmly, though doubt nags at me too "We can probe him wrong, we just need to try harder"

Powder squeezes my hand tighter, a flicker of hope igniting behind her worried expression. "You really think so?"

"I know so" I say offering a small, reassuring smile. "Let's see what we can find around here. Maybe we can build something new a better bomb"

Her face lights up at the suggestion, the spark of invention returning to her eyes "yeah! Let's do that!"

Together, we start searching through the alley, our eyes scanning the ground and near by trash bins. We approach a rusted pipe, and I try to twist the cap off, but it's stuck "Help me, Powder" I say, and together we manage to pry it open.

peering inside, I spot something shiny at the bottom. I stretch my arm in, trying to reach it, but it's just out of grasp. "Too far" I mutter

"I'll try" Powder offers. She slides her arm in, streatching her fingers toward the object.

While she tries to reach the object, I glance over and notice Claggor and Vander slipping out the back door, carrying a bag full of something. They don't say a word, just passing us by in silence.

"Got it!" Powder exclaims, pulling out the small, gleaming object. She holds it up to show me, and I reach to grab it. We both turn it over in our hands, examining it closely. Once I let go, Powder tucks it into her pocket.

As she does, her fingers brush against something else, the blue crystals we took from the workshop, She takes one out of her pocket and her hand closes around it, Her eyes widening. "We have to show this to Vi"

Without wasting another moment, we run back to the door, and hurry downstairs to the basement, jumping the last step.

As we reach the ajar basement door. Just as we're about to entry, we hear the voices from within. Mylo's speaking to Vi.

"they're a problem" Mylo grumbles.

Vi sighs. "Mylo, I'm really not-"

But Mylo cuts her off. "Do you remember what was in that bag?" He throws a ball against the wall, catching it on the rebound "The biggest payout we've ever seen, and they just lost it"

"They made a mistake" Vi says, defending us.

Mylo throws the ball again. "Name one time they haven't"

"They're young" Vi replies, her voice quieter but firm.

"Don't bullshit me" Mylo snaps, tossing the ball against the wall again "You were twice the person at half their age."

"You know what, Mylo you're right" Vi says.

Her words hit me hard, a surge of emotions bubbling up, anger, sadness, confusion. It all mixes together in a tight knot inside me.

"There's a bunch of things Powder and Ash just can't do" Vi continues, her voice steady but sharp.

"You don't need to tell me twice" Mylo mutters, throwing the ball again.

I can't listen to this anymore. I grab Powder's arm, and we quietly slip away, heading to our room. I don't want to hear another word.

Once inside, I let go of her arm and sit down on the bunk bed, starring at the wall in silence. The weight of everything sinks in, pressing down on my chest. I don't say anything to Powder, I don't even know what to say.

Powder watches me, she is as confused and hurt as I am. After a moment, she walks over to the record player, pulling out a disc. She carefully places it on the turntable and lowers the needle, and then she comes to sit beside me.

We don't speak. we just sit there, listening to the music.

Neither of us mentions what Vi said. It’s too raw, too painful to dig into right now. But the words hang between us like a shadow.

Powder fidgets beside me, her knee bouncing nervously. I know she’s thinking about it too, but like me, she's not sure how to talk about it. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"does Vi hates us?," she asks, her voice shaky.

I don’t answer right away. Thinking about what to say, Instead, I reach for the box under the bed the one with the scraps we’ve found. I pull it out and open it, revealing wires, metal bits, broken gadgets, everything we’ve managed to collect for our next project.

“I-i don't know” I finally admit, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Maybe she does" I say as I run my fingers over the pieces, Trying to focus on something else, I grab one and start working on it, the movement familiar, almost automatic.

Powder watches me for a moment, then pulls her knees to her chest. After a beat, she leans forward, rummaging through the parts beside me. The energy between us shifts, our focus turning to the creation in front of us. It's like we’re speaking through the work, letting it fill the space between us instead of words.

After a while, of pulling wires and putting metal scraps together, we finally finish. We both smile, just a little. It's not like the pain is gone, or that Vi's word didn't hurt, but building something together just make us feel better.

Powder picks up the crayons and starts drawing on our creation, giving it a face with sharp, spiky teeth. When I reach for the a crayon to add my own touch. We hear Vi's voice coming from the top bunk.

"What are you calling this one?" she asks, looking down at us.

Our smiles fall instantly as we look up at her.

"Whisker" Powder answers.

Vi climb down from the bed and sit with us.

"You guys wanna talk about today?" Vi asks gently.

"What's the point?" Powder mumbles "we've ruined everything. we always do"

"Nobody said that" Vi replies.

"No. just that you were 'twice the person' at half our age" I say, a bit of sarcasm slipping into my voice.

"You heard them" Powder adds, her voice small "we're not fighters."

"You don't have to be" Vi says, trying to reassure us. "look, I've got these" She says, holding up her fists, "and you've got those" She points to the bomb shells scattered across the bed.

"They never work" I mutter, frustration bubbling up as I pull my legs to my chest and hug them tighter.

"They will" Vi says firmly. Then she stands "Come with me."

"What?" Powder asks, glancing at Vi then back at me.

"Come on!" Vi repeats walking off.

Powder hesitates but gets up from the bed, offering me her hand. which I take, and together we follow Vi.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Ch. 1 - Ch. 4

I was supposed to update this on Sunday, but I forgot sorry.

My exams are close so I need to focus on studying which means there won't be updates as often :( But I'll try to make some time into writing though I can't promise.

Don't forget to leave a like and a comment I'm open to suggestions.

[cha-melodius]

#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What if Ford dies from Bill's torture? And Stan still cursed as a cat gets Dan and the rest to the house? (I love angst) btw there's another happy ending where Ford was barely clinging to life but not dead so he get rescued by the group.

Is it make the dark lord cry hours here? Why's everyone being so sad?

In the terrible scenario where Ford dies, Bill is moving into his permanent flesh puppet and yelling at Fords ghost for having the nerve to die before Bill could kill him on purpose. Fords floating around horrified that Bill has full access to the house and his research, and works with Nikola to go get help from outside before Bill figures out how to tear down the door to the basement and start the apocalypse. Stan is pushing down his horror and devastation to help Ford's ghost out, but he's barely clinging on to that thread.

The confrontation between Bill and the rest of the group is similar in that Dan decks him and he drops, but then he doesn't get back up, because Ford's dead. Instead they watch in horror as Bill pops back in a few minutes later laughing at them, and they're forced to tie him up while chocking back tears. Ford's too weak to appear to them, so Stan goes around and gets all of his ghost summoning things to get the message across.

Then its sad tears hours as everyone's confronted with Ford's ghost, Fiddleford horrified that he abandoned his friend, Carla horrified that Fiddleford prevented her from helping her friend, etc, etc, while Stan's wailing at his feet and pawing at his floating form. Just full teary eyed cat sadness yowling. You know the type.

Worse ending here is Stan doesnt get out of the house to get Dan and the others, and is either locked in the basement counting down the hours until starvation gets him while Ford's ghost watches(or Fiddleford with a buzz saw rescues him) or Bill now has a nice fluffy scarf as he goes around trying to tear down the door to get downstairs, with Fords ghost yelling and trying to do what he can with no body while Stan's numb from Bill touch. This could lead to a potential Bill Wins scenario, depending on how long it'd take him to realize he can bypass the door entirely by going through the floor, and that a corpse doesnt have to worry about surviving the fall. Then Ford lives because his ghost gets shoved back into his body and Bill fixes it, offended that Ford's weak mortal form had the gall to go and die on him without permission. Chances of Cat Man Stan are high, but Bill might also just go straight to Ford torture to force cooperation now that he knows he can shove his soul back in if he pushes the body too far. Then Stan gets to watch his bro get tortured from the side while Bill laughs at his yowling.

Happy end is Ford actually is alive, just banged his head, Bill possessing him accidentally shoved his spirit out, and everyone thought he was dead until Bill was kicked out for good and they realized he was still breathing. Then its a quick trip to the hospital while Carla and Ford work together on figuring out how to shove a spirit back into a body (just gotta zoom back in). Stan spends the entire time on Fords chest, refusing to move. They have to threaten/bribe the hospital staff to let him stay, because every time they try to pull Stan away he yowls like they're killing him.

I think this is one universe where Stan would go back to trying to communicate who he is, just so he can yell at Ford for scaring the life out of him. If Ford does end up perma dead Stan would become a depressed wreck of a cat, just lounging around Ford's house and laying in his bed, refusing to do anything but lay there. This would be a perma cat Stan universe, as he'd stop caring about trying to turn human without Ford there. Just becomes Emma-May's cat after the divorce so he can stick with Shifty (And they would, after Fiddlefords cult era led to their friends death). She can't get rid of him, even if she tries, because he just always comes back (except for when he's sneaking out to wreck Fiddlefords life as majorly as his cat body allows. He'll never forgive him for abandoning Ford after all). If at any point he did become human, the moment he learned how his curse worked he'd go back to living as a cat. Doesn't care about being Stanley after all, the last thing Ford cared about was Nikola, so that's who he is now.

Thanks for making me cry in the middle of the night. Now i'm inflicting this on you all.

[hannahssimblr]

She calls while I’m out on a job. One hand on the handlebars, the other holding my phone. “Yeah?”

“What are you up to?” 

“Working.” 

Around her voice are the sounds of gently lapping water, ambient music, like Enya or something. 

“Astrid, are you in the bath?”

“Yes.” Of course she is. She’s always in the bath. “You could join me.”

“You want me to join you in it,” I echo, and look down at myself. Bike grease on my hands from the chain falling off, the bandage from my coffee burn still wound around my palm. “I don’t really fit in that bath anyway, do I?”

“Hm,” she says. “No, but I don’t mind. We can just get bathwater all over the floor like the last time.”

I soften, drag my bike onto the kerb and lock it to the railings. “Yeah. That was nice.”

“Come over. When are you finished?” This is what she does. Puts on that whiny little voice to coax me over to her. Never “I miss you”, never “I want to see you.” Just “Come over now.” First making sure to place herself in some erotic situation designed to manipulate the caveman part of my brain.

“I dunno, like, an hour. Hour and a half, maybe. Depends on how many more restaurants need me for delivery.”

“Where are you?”

I glance around. “Near the Bavarian Quarter, I think.”

“Ugh. You’re far.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs, a great, world-weary sigh. “I won’t wait in the bath so long.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it. Look, just hang in there and I’ll come when I can. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Ah, you wanted me to make you something.”

“No, I wanted you to join me in the bath.”

To this I laugh, aware of the minutes I’m wasting, but they don’t seem so important. “I know what you’re doing, Larsen. If you can wait a couple of hours, then I’ll come cook.”

“If I ordered something, what are the chances it will be you that delivers it?”

“Slim.”

“Ugh! Fine. I will wait.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too. Don’t be too long.”

“It could be two hours–” I reiterate, but she’s gone. Dead air on the phone. I stuff it back into my pocket and take pizzas from the insulated bag strapped to the back of my bicycle. Apartment 5C implies the fifth floor. I sigh, and hit the bell so they can buzz me in. 

None of these places ever have lifts. It’s inevitable. And the people who order takeaway food always live on the highest floors of their buildings, up spiral after spiral of tiled staircase. By the time I get there, I can barely wheeze out a “thanks, have a good night.” Legs shaking on the way back down. I’ve quit the gym. Couldn’t afford it anymore, but this job provides enough exercise for it to be redundant. Another eight kilometer cycle. Another lift that doesn’t work. Another set of fucking stairs.

The lifts that do work, by the way, are the ones from like, the turn of the century. The ones the allied bombs never got, with the metal grate you manually pull across, shuddering their way up inside the building as you obsessively picture old cables snapping like in a film, and you plummeting towards the basement to your demise. Astrid’s lift is one of those, and as I stand in it after my shift, legs exhausted and that ear ringing throb of silence after a long day, I think that if the cables snapped now, if these gears squeaked as they gave, sending me hurtling down the shaft, I might be too tired to try to save myself. Might not be bothered to scream. 

“Oh, you’re here,” she says, unlocking the door. “You smell like the outside.” She smells of soap and lotion, a waft of scent that I trail towards the kitchenette where she boils some water for coffee, while I lay down the bag of ingredients for dinner. 

Her face is pink and clean, scrubbed of makeup, with her hair twisted in a knot at the top of her head. She looks at me, head to toe, cuts and stains and dirty jeans. “You can take a shower, if you like.”

“Yeah, I would actually like that.” I leave the bathroom door open as I undress and run the shower. One of those awkward shower heads positioned above the bath. Old plumbing, with a hot and cold tap that requires precision balancing for a bearable temperature. 

“Sorry I’m later than usual,” I call out as steam fills the little room. “A few late orders came in for this Korean restaurant, and I was close by, so I thought I’d just grab the job.”

“It’s fine.”

“I wish you would have just eaten. You must be starving.”

“Well, you promised you would cook.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Her now, digging through her drawers. “I will give you clean clothes to change into when you finish.”

“Do I have clothes here?”

“A T-shirt and some boxer shorts.”

“You want me to just wear those?”

She pauses at the door, grimacing slightly at my rumpled jeans on the floor. “I don’t want you wearing those.”

“Okay, fine.” Inside the shower, I wash my hair with her fancy shampoos and conditioners. Pouring then a handful of some iridescent pink shower gel into my palm and forming a lather on my chest. “I met this complete dickhead at a door tonight, by the way,” I tell her. From the living room she utters a vaguely interested “hm?”

“He went apeshit at me for forgetting the dip for his pizza.”

“Oh. I hate when they forget that.”

“Well, yeah, ‘they’ meaning the restaurant, not the delivery person.”

“Oh, well, I suppose the people getting the pizza don’t know. They just know that part of their order is missing.”

I pause. “But they should use common sense and realise that I’m just a middleman. It’s not my fault the restaurant fucked it up, you know? People are just stupid, I think.”

She doesn’t reply. 

“Astrid?”

“Oh, I was looking at my phone. Say it again?”

“It’s fine.”

I grab her nail brush and scrub the dirt from beneath my fingernails. The bristles emerge black with bicycle grease. “It’s just, like, you meet all kinds of people when you do a job like this. I think you’d be shocked.”

“Mm,” she says, stopping in the doorway, now. “I just think there’s so little benefit to it. You don’t enjoy it, and it takes all your free time.”

“I know, but I need the money.”

“You could work less. You don’t need to work every night of the week, and weekends, too.”

With some irritation, I glance at her. “Yeah, after a while, maybe, but for now I’m really just focussed on paying you back for January’s rent.”

“Oh, mhm,” she steps out of the doorway and once again out of sight. It is a situation she cannot stand. A conversation she can’t bear to have. Her, forking out the money I owed the landlady before leaving Kreuzberg like it was a humiliation ritual. “I’ll pay you back,” I swore, as she cringed, unable to meet my eye, pained expression, like the words hurt. 

After towelling myself off, I dress in the clean clothes she has left in the door, arms, legs, feet bare, and it is cold. I graze a radiator as I pass, and it is on, but this is an old building. Badly insulated. It’s never really warm in here except for the summer, when it becomes unbearable, all the heat rising here to the top floor. Unable to open the windows because of the church bells that ring four times an hour throughout the night. 

Astrid hums over the sound of the extractor fan, eyes on her laptop while I cook. I peel and slice the carrots, julienne style. Fry lardons. Boil noodles. With a fork, I mix tonkatsu sauce with sesame oil and sake wine. Her fingers drum the keyboard. 

“What’s on your computer?”

“I’m just researching.”

“Oh, for art history?”

“No,” a pause, deliberate, then, too casually, adds “Valencia.”

“In Spain?”

“Mm. Trying to decide if I’d rather go to Valencia or Seville.”

I suppress my surge of annoyance. Take a slow breath while I rinse the mushrooms. “Oh yeah? When are you going to Spain?”

“I was thinking I am so tired of being cold. Sick of winter. I want to go where the sun shines.”

“Ah. With friends, is it?”

“Hm?”

“You’re going with your friends?”

She doesn’t look up. “No. You and me, I thought.”

There’s a prickling sensation in my head. My fingers reflexively squeeze the handle of the spatula. “When would we do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. In a couple of weeks. There’s a hotel in the centre of Valencia that looks perfect.”

Ah, there it is. She’s mad at me. Another fight disguised as conversation. Look at that haughty tilt of her head, the way her lips purse. She approaches conflict in this way for reasons I cannot understand. At times I wonder whether she does either, or if it's some instinct she has. An allergy to directness. “You know I can't do that, Astrid,” I say, half embarrassed to even have to say it. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Put me in this situation. Deliberately. You know I can’t do that. Travelling is impossible right now. I don’t even want to have this conversation.”

When I look at her, her eyebrow is arched. “Well, you’re going to Ireland this weekend.”

“Yeah. The flight was fifteen euros. I have to fly Ryanair, I–” I break off to scoff and scrape burnt onion off the bottom of the pan. “You know how I am about Ryanair. I don’t fucking fly them. My legs don’t fit in their fucking seats. I hate the music they play at the end, then, bloody shoving lottery tickets in my face. This is not a luxurious experience I am excited about. It’s an obligatory visit to my family, and then dinner with a few friends.”

“Oh, you’re having dinner? At a restaurant?”

“Yeah. We booked a fairly shitty Mexican place. And I’ll probably have, like, one drink and no dessert, so don’t get excited about it.”

She frowns. “Why are you using this tone?”

“I don’t know.” 

I let the silence go on as I assemble our meal. Plates clacking together. Sound of cutlery in the drawer, and Astrid has stopped typing. She’s looking at me, but I avoid her gaze until I’m at the table, picking at my dinner in the seat beside her. 

“I’ll figure it out,” I mutter. Not exactly sure if I mean the rent, my bank account, or the distance that has crept in like a draft under the door. 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, twisting noodles around her fork, but not yet eating them. She means it, I think. I hope. Has faith that I’ll get it right, eventually. I reach out and rest my hand on her arm. Soft, warm, real. It’s weird now, but we’re still us, I think. Right?  

She’s watching me, intelligent eyes flicking about my face in search for something. Proof, maybe, confirmation, then she leans toward me a little. An invitation or a test. I hesitate for a moment before kissing her. Warm and slow, and my hand on her neck, wanting to feel the place where her pulse jumps, where it changes as I touch her. If I don’t think too hard about it, this feels normal. I try not to wonder whether she feels the same, or if she notices where it is different.

“You’ll take me to Valencia another time,” she insists, and to this I give her a soft, noncommittal “mhm,” murmured against her mouth. 

She closes the laptop with a soft click. “Okay, then.” Patient tone on her. I'm being let off the hook. This is something stored away for later, for when I’ve figured it out, for when things are better. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes back. Pretending love is enough. Leaning, both leaning, on the hope that it is.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[elliebean714]

Hide And Seek

Josh Washington x GN!Reader (Romantic or Platonic)

Everybody's playing hide and seek, but you're veryy competitive and end up somewhere you shouldn't have

Fluff, Slow Burn(?) This is kinda just game lore, then turns into an actual character x reader at the very end lol

An~ I *think* this is *loosely* inspired by a fic I read on here a few years ago, I cannot remember though, so credits to them ig, I'll tag the og if I somehow find it (if it's even real, I may have dreamt it up or something lmao). I only put this as josh x reader bc he's my fave, but honestly, this can be read without that and you wouldn't miss anything lmao. I just wanted to get this out of my skull. SOO PROUD OF THISS!! HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS OMGGG?? WRITING IS FUN?? WTFF??? Its 5:30 in the morning and i just finished writing until dawn fan fiction. How did it come to this?? good lord this man is beautiful, should be a crime to be this gorgeous. Someone tell me how to tell if my one shot is slow burn or not. I'm not very clever. Sorry the ending is so shit lol, I'm very tired and really want to share this and AAAHHHHHH release me from this tormentttttt

Pre-Game

"Okay, everybody, let's set some ground rules before we start." Chris waves his arms to make sure everyone is paying attention. "First off, obviously, nobody is allowed to go outside, okay? Let's keep it fair people. Next, since there's twelve of us and the lodge is so big, we're gonna have two seekers. Thats Josh and Beth, they'll have to wait in here for two minutes while we all hide." The pair wave "Alright, lastly, you're allowed to move as much as you want, but if you're caught you come back to the kitchen until everyone is found. Winner gets the $600." He motions to the locked box that everyone pitched in $50, then hands the key to josh to keep a hold of until the end.

"Right, yeah, we get it. C'mon nobody likes to wait." Mike snaps his fingers, growing impatient, "Lets get going." while Beth sets a two minute timer on her phone, you slowly creep towards the door with a destination already firmly implanted in your mind. A countdown from three starts, your hand twisting the handle of the door, ready to bolt as soon as you hear-

"One!" The timer starts, and by the time everybody is out the kitchen, you're already halfway down the stairs to the basement. You sprint past all the potential hiding spots, far too obvious for someone of your calibre.

The sound of the basement door opening and a two pairs of footsteps make you jump "Mike-" Emily moans into, what you assume is a kiss. You sneak behind a pile of boxes before they can see you. They might not be seekers, but your plans will NOT be foiled by MIKE AND EMILY making out. Absolutely not.

They find some distant corner to hide and do whatever, you poke your head out for a second to check they don't notice you, when you see them firmly 'distracted' you sneak off without making a sound and get past the door at the furthest point in the room, deeper into the basement, and closer to your destination.

The old hotel. Before the Washingtons built the lodge on the mountain, there was a hotel here, they leveled it before construction, but you've spoken to josh about it, apparently remnants have remained down there, completely untouched. There should definitely be somewhere to hide. This would be easier if the two people looking for you weren't the two most likely to have knowledge of the layout of the hotel, but that doesn't mean you give up.

It means you have to be smart, sneaky and fast. You don't even need to be in a great hiding spot, you just need to be the last one found, you need to win. You feel a rush of adrenaline course through you when you see a pair of rotted wooden stairs, YES! It's still here! Soon you find yourself in what probably wouldve been the kitchen, and let yourself stop for a moment to check the time, 22:49. You've been running for five minutes, Josh and Beth have been searching for three.

That thought pushes you to keep moving- past the weird, long, creepy hallways and rooms and... smells. You come to a small room with a cage encasing it, god, how deep into this place are you? This wouldn't be a bad place to stay, if there were hiding spots. You check your phone: 22:52. If you had to guess, Emily, Mike, Hannah and Chris had probably been found by now. But you can't rely on that, time to get moving.

Eventually, the rooms and corners all turn to the one long corridor, stone exterior, definitely man made. Like some tunnel...? To where?? Where would there need to be a tunnel to on the mountain? Well, might as well check it out, not like you're going to lose at this point. If Josh or Beth decide to check the old hotel, they sure as hell aren't coming down this far.

A little ways down the tunnel, you see a huge set of metal double doors, this just keeps getting weirder. Thankfully the doors are open, just enough to squeeze yourself through and continue down. You check the time once you pass the door: 23:07. Oh you've won that $600. No contest. A surge of pride and adrenaline rush through you and motivate you to continue.

Seeing a set of stone stairs is... unsettling. Where they lead to even more so. You cautiously follow them up to a weird, giant room. Dark and abandoned... is this more of the hotel? No way, right? Leaving the room, you see a chain linked door down a tiny hallway, all other directions are blocked off by old furniture, you look through the door...

It seems empty? Just a bigger room, looks semi religious, maybe an old Chapel? You gently push the door open, it's loud, but who cares? Nobody's here anyway. Looking around in amazement, this entire building, untouched by humans in who knows how long, you might be the first person to be inside this building in decades, maybe the last ever! This is all so surreal... your thoughts are interrupted by... a call? You check, Josh. You've only got one bar of service here, it's a miracle any contact was capable of being made. Might as well tease him. You're not going back to the lodge until you're found.

"Heyy-" you start, unable to contain your cheeky giggles

"JESUS, Y/N WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?? Are you okay??" He sounds so relieved to hear your voice

"Yeah, obviously... so what's up, Washin-"

"You won, okay, wherever you are, just come out. We're all freaking out trying to find you"

"Nope." You state simply.

He sighs "You won. Please. You're freaking us out, you weren't supposed to go outs-"

"I didn't." God- its so hard to keep a straight face

"What...? You're still here? We've checked everywhere! I even checked that old hotel! Where are you??"

"No hints. I want one of you to find me." You hang up before he can protest, and check the time briefly: 23:38 before putting it away to explore the building. Along the sides are areas with chain linked walls, it's too dark to discern what's inside them. Except the one with an opening, heading inside you see a map of the mountain, outdated for sure, as it has the hotel labeled instead of the lodge.

From what you can guess, this building youre in is probably the sanatorium. Makes you wonder what happened that caused it to be abandoned. And for the Washingtons to do nothing with it. At the far end of the room, another giant set of double doors, you try to push them open, but they're either locked or way too heavy.

So the other side of the Chapel is your only option. One is completely blocked off, one that leads to another building in the sanatorium is locked and one at the far right takes you to a fenced in area, a makeshift graveyard, every name has the same date under it. Must've been a massacre... that's probably why it was abandoned, jeez... okay, well, that's just a dead end, so you turn back and- why does it feel like you're not alone anymore?

"Josh?" You call out, best case scenario, it's someone from your group and you've just given up your position... worst case... you creep towards the middle of the room "guys?" No response, maybe they're trying to scare you? Would be good payback for the $50 this excursion cost them. "You got me, okay? Come ou-" a screech interupts you, it sounds like an animal in distress, or a warning... "what the fuck?" It's coming from beyond the locked chain link door.

"Hello?" You step towards the sound, the door is locked, nothing will get you, it's fine... "is anyone there?" Another screech, you reach out to investigate the lock... and a gloved hand stops you.

Shit. You feel your blood run cold. This definitely isn't one of your friends. In half a second you whip your arm away and turn to face your assailant- old guy, weird goggles, flamethrower- before he can say a word you sprint across the room, out the door, down the stairs and back into the tunnel. You don't even know if he's following you, all you can hear are your own panicked breaths and your heart thumping so loud it feels like the walls are closing in on you with every beat.

You make it back to the double doors and slam them shut behind you. You can't lock them from this side, so the best you can do is close them and hope it'll slow him. God- you forgot how much of a maze this stupid hotel was, why the hell does there need to be so many hallways and dead ends?? Wait- the kitchen!! Yes! You know exactly where to go now! Just straight up. No more corridors and empty rooms.

The adrenaline has you acting pretty clumsy, tripping over steps, banging into things and slaming through doors. Once you're up that last set of stairs from the hotel to the lodge you start to feel exhausted- no, not yet- keep going, you got this. You reach out and open the door to the main basement, scaring the shit out of Ashley in the process "RUN! Holy shit-" you don't need to tell her twice. She grabs Chris, who was staring and the two run ahead. They hold the door to the basement open for you, after you practically jump up the stairs, somebody slams it shut and locks it.

The relief hits you like a freight train and your legs finally buckle, dropping you to the floor. Everyone hounds you with questions as you pant on the floor, trying to let the cold wood cool you down. You cover your eyes with your arm for a minute.

"What the hell happened??" You hear Matt ask

"I saw- shit- I saw somebody-" You pant- well at least I won't have to work out for the rest of the year. That sends everyone into a panic. More questions are thrown your way, the guys are discussing a plan of defense should it be necessary.

"What the fuck- who??" Jess' question is the one you hear.

"I dunno, some weird old guy- had a pair of goofy goggles and a fuckin' flamethrower." You take in several deep breaths and give Hannah a grateful smile when she hands you a water bottle.

"Where the hell did you go?" Josh gets close to you "where was he??"

You gulp down half the water before answering "I think I was in the sanatorium? I saw a map, I guessed that..." you trail off, everyone's stares making you suddenly self conscious "what?"

"Why the hell were you in the sanatorium?? That's dangerous Y/N!" Josh's concern comes out as a yell, in that way that someone only does when they really care.

"There's a tunnel from that old hotel beneath us to it, I was curious and I wanted to win." You shrug, god- this would be hilarious if it wasn't for that fucking insane person you met.

"There's a tunnel to the sanatorium?" Mike asks for confirmation.

"Yeah. And I won since I never technically went outside, by the way." You remind them. Sure this was a terrifying situation, but fuck it if you were loosing your reward.

"Shut up! Oh my god! There's a crazy guy up here, oh my goddd!" Ashley lashes out, you'd be offended if you hadn't scared her half to death a minute ago.

"Sorry." You mumble, drinking more water- fuck, have you ever sweat this much?

"Was he chasing you? Like, what happened?" Sam asks, always clear headed.

"I don't know, I just got there, Josh called me, I hung up, explored for a bit, heard some sort of animal, and he came up beside me before could see what it was. I just booked it, I didn't hear him I was too freaked." You answer truthfully

Josh takes your hand, seeing him serious is uncomfortable. "You should've come back when I called you."

"I wanted to win, I didn't think I'd see a fucking lunatic-" you attempt to defend your reasoning. was it sound? No. Did it work? Yeah.

"I told you you won." He asserted. He had one of those intense stares. One of the ones you feel a mile away. One that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

"I know... I just- I dunno... I wanted to explore. A whole building abandoned and lost to time? I couldn't help it. I was gonna come back after like an hour." You shake your head and sigh "I got excited. I'm sorry I worried you. I wasn't thinking, you know how I get, I'm really sorry"

He sighs. "Just don't do it again"

🦋❄️🦋❄️

🦋Butterfly Effect~ Too Soon...?🦋

❄️The Group Decided To Play Hide And Seek❄️

🦋Y/N Went To The Old Hotel And Found A Secret Tunnel🦋

❄️Y/N Refused To Return To The Lodge❄️

🦋So They Could Explore The Sanatorium 🦋

❄️Y/N Attempted To Investigate The Sound...❄️

🦋And Met The Stranger🦋

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

~ Elliebean714 🦋

[bitch-potatoes]

Prompt: comfortable 21/10/24 @rosekillermicrofic

Word count: 945

It's long so below the cut :)

Evan was rudely awoken by the sound of an intermittent... siren? Blinking sleep from his eyes and pressing his glasses over his nose, he noticed the TV in the bedroom was on. He was almost certain he'd turned it off before falling asleep.

The screen was scrolling a message on repeat, Evan squinted to see it through his eyes, which were not taking kindly to the brightness.

"This is a BBC public service announcement. Please standby for more information"

Evan groaned, pushing himself up to sit up and leaning over to shake Barty awake. He whined and pressed his forearm over his eyes, blocking out the light from the TV. Sometimes Evan thought he was lucky to be deaf, he couldn't hear that annoying blaring sound at all. Evan shook him more insisitantly, trying to wake him up properly.

He frowned as he squinted up at Evan "the fuck?" He mumbled, sitting up as well and scanning the TV with his eyes. A monotonous, probably AI, voice began to speak as the words scrolling past changed.

"A global emergency has been declared, remain inside and await further instructions from local authorities"

Evan couldn't help but think that was a bit vague. He stood up and glanced out the window. Outside people were driving away far above the speed limit, and military vehicles were chundering along. One particularly strange thing was armoured vans with the biohazard symbol plastered on them.

Barty seemed to appear at his side, too good at creeping around for his own good. He glanced out the window while adjusting his hearing aids in his ears. He grinned maniacally and rubbed his hand together. "I think it's the zombie apocalypse, Rosie," he murmured almost excitedly. The TV blared the same message again. Somewhere in the distance, there was smoke from a fire.

"Why the fuck are you so comfortable with this?" Evan exclaimed, already digging through his belongings and stuffing things into a bag. He was appalled that Barty not only seemed to be completely free from anxiety but enjoying this whole ordeal.

"I've been researching this," Barty practically giggled with glee, ducking out the way of the window as a bright light travelled past. Barty pursed his lips, seemingly thinking hard for a while.

"This might be my fault" he ended up announcing nonchalantly. Diving over the bed and pulling a set of keys from his bedside table, he didn't even bother to pull on proper clothes before he burst out the bedroom in his boxers. Evan followed, though actually dressed, as Barty flung himself down the stairs and opened the door to the basement.

The basement.

Barty's idea of a home laboratory.

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit" he sung out the curse to a little rhythm, pressing a palm into Evan's chest and silently instructing him to stay put while he dragged open drawers and searched through notebooks. Jotting things down all the while, he seemed thoroughly stressed.

"I had a tiny little breach... a single roach escaped, I thought it was just a miscount but that was about a week ago and that's the perfect incubation period" he muttered under his breath, pulling a mouse out of a tank and carefully swabbing it's mouth and preparing some sort of microscope slide. After a few minutes, he placed the slide onto the viewing platform and peered into the eyepiece.

"Fuck" he mumbled, coaxing Evan towards him with a hand gesture. Evan walked over ensuring he didn't touch anything. Barty guided him to look into the microscope, Evan didn't know what he was looking for.

"Do you see a sort of spider web pattern over some of those cells?" Barty prompted, searching through a drawer for something. Evan squinted. He could sort of see what Barty meant - between some of the little globs were lines sort of like plant roots.

"That's hyphae," Barty explained softly as Evan looked at it harder, trying to understand. "Imagine if a mushroom is an apple, the hyphae is the tree," Barty mumbled. His fingers flexed around Evan's T-shirt, riding it up slightly. Evan presumed it was a nervous fidget until he felt a sharp stab against his stomach as Barty pushed the plunger of a syringe.

"What the fuck Bug?" Evan yelped, stumbling back from the microscope and watching as Barty injected himself with a similar looking syringe. Barty shrugged.

"Vaccine," he said simply, carefully disposing of the syringes in a biohazard bucket. "I've been working on genetically merging features of valley fever with zombie ant disease," he added. As if that was a casual hobby. Just when Evan thought Barty couldn't surprise him.

"Why would you actively try to make a human compatible zombie virus?" Evan asked, the panic settling in as Barty frantically checks agar plates with various labels - some of them had tiny mushrooms growing inside them and based on the look on Barty's face that was not good.

"I don't know why Evo, I wanted to know if it was feasible," Barty said defensively, still searching between plates with tiny bits of paper on them. Some of them had none of the weird fluffy white stuff, hyphae?, where the paper was, and that seemed to be a good sign. Maybe?

"Just let me deal with it... you should be safe, I gave you the vaccine I developed, and that's never not worked.... but you are the first human subject, " Barty mumbled, jotting down notes about the plates he was looking at.

"I'll fix this, I swear to you, Bear." Barty smiled at Evan. It was a sheepish smile. But a smile none the less. Maybe things would be okay.

[thanksbutno98]

Helloo!! When I say that I spent the whole day binging both your series on price and simon. Literally ate every chapter up!! Its so good and the characters are all fleshed out so well<3

It makes me so happy that the captain's wife still maintained her career<3333 It would really funny as well if the kids one day decided taht they will investigate their moms office and find a bone artifact she's working on and they freak out because why is there mother dearest keeping bones in her office

The Holidays

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: This one little idea sparked so much inspiration for me. Thank you so much for your request and kind words!

Summary: The preparation for Christmas has never been easy but now being eight months pregnant has only made it tougher. As your family enjoys the holiday, tensions become high dividing John’s family.

Warning: swearing, angst, family conflict, slut shaming, pregnancy, toxic mother in law, mention of infidelity, hint at child abuse, not edited.

——————

“Psst, Jj.” Evelyns hushed voice floated through the air.

Turning only slightly from the Christmas movie on the television Jj could see his little sister just peaking her head around the doorway that connected the living room and dinning room. Narrowing his eyes Jj could see the mischief in hers.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to get us both in trouble the day before Christmas?” Jj asked.

“Not if we don’t get caught.” Evelyn waved her hand for Jj to come follow and before he could say another word he watched as she ran out of sight towards the back door.

With a deep sigh Jj turned the volume up a bit on the television in hopes his father would not hear what they were up to. Hoping over the back of the couch quietly Jj silently shuffled over and peered up the stairs.

“No, John it goes here.”

“Where should we put the rocking chair then?”

“I was thinking over there.”

The coast was clear. You and John were busy setting up the nursery having been at it for most of this rainy Christmas Eve. This gave Jj the chance to slip away unnoticed and figure out what his sister wanted. Quickly Jj made his way to the back door but he did not see where his sister went.

“Psssst, this way.” Turning Jj heard Evelyns voice coming from the behind basement door. Creepy. Jj shuttered at the thought of going into the ominous cellar. The rain pounding down outside and loud thunder did not help.

Quietly the eight year old opened the slightly ajar door to see his ponytailed sister kneeling on the bottom stair waving for him to follow. Her galaxy leggings and red t-shirt were illuminated by a singular light that was buzzing loudly. It was one of those draw string lights that dangle in the middle of the room.

The basement was a large square room bisected by a concrete wall. There was a wall jutting out at the bottom of the stairs that ran straight back cutting out a corner of the first room. It was where the water heater lived and a bunch of other stuff but the boy did not know what. There was one rectangular window in this room and two in the room across from them. It allowed the dim light of the rainy day to trickle in.

Creeping down the stairs Jj pulled the door back into place the way he found it. He made sure to avoid the creaking stairs but his stealth was far from proficient. Slipping and falling on his butt in his socks.

“Ow.” Jj mumbled getting back up and rubbing the sore area. Evelyn was giggling at him but he ignored her and continued to descend the rickety stairs.

“We’re not allowed down here. This is where mum does her work.” Jj scolded in a hushed tone.

“Well now it’s daddy’s office too. Since that dumb baby took it from him. They should just keep it down here.” Evelyn rolled her eyes.

Glancing around the portion of the cellar they could see. It was filled with all the belongings from their fathers office that eerily sat in the same position as it had upstairs. Now it was in a dingy concrete basement with little light making the mahogany of their fathers desk look menacing.

“Dad never let us in his office either. And I don’t think babies are suppose to be in basements.” Jj was annoyed by his sisters words. She had been upset about the baby lately which the young boy understood, he just kept it to himself.

“Well, doesn’t matter right now I found something cool.” Evelyn shot back.

“Evie, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” Jj complained finally stepping into what use to be the storage area.

Boxes were stacked under the stairs now and old furniture was piled in the small space next to the stairs to make room for John’s belongings. It was not ideal to have his office in the basement now but you lived in a four bedroom house and there was more need for a nursery.

“No, I’ll show you really quick then we’ll run up to the couch like nothing happened.” Evelyn spoke while she swiped her finger through the dust sitting on the old hutch that use to sit in the living room.

“Fine.” Jj groaned his curiosity outweighing the risk.

Evelyn scurried past the packing boxes filled with her fathers books and made her way to the opposite end of the basement that was separated by a concrete wall. Slowly she opened the old wooden door that lead into what you considered your study. It was an unfinished basement so it was nothing special. A bit dingy but this area was nice and clean.

The concrete floor was covered in a large Moroccan rug decorated with intricate designs. The ruby red rug brought out the dark chestnut furniture you had down here; such as your desk, old living room couch, coffee table and your old dining room table set. It looked spooky and like an old time morgue with the metal medical cabinets pushed against the left wall, stocked with supplies so you could examine artifacts here when you brought your work home.

Jj gulped as he took in the sight of your makeshift office. The lamp on your desk being the only light on casting a menacing shadow over the otherwise dark room. The trinkets and antiques you had collected throughout your career on display only making the room seem scarier to a child. Jj had only been down here a few times and it was always with you. No matter what it always gave him the creeps. There was a strict rule in the house that they were never allowed in here without explicit permission. You were scared they would break a centuries old artifact or find the key to your supply cupboard and get hurt.

Taking Jj’s hand Evelyn guided him around the old dinning room table and over to your desk that sat on the wall parallel to the door. Opening the bottom drawer she pulled out what looked to be a shoe box of sorts but it wasn’t quite right. Placing it gently on your office chair she kneeled in front of it and Jj did the same. Slowly taking off the lid Jj felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as the contents of the box were revealed. There was a skull of some kind sitting in the dusty box. It’s jaw lay separate, with sharp fang like teeth.

“It’s a head. It’s like it staring at us.” Evelyn whispered looking fascinated but also slightly afraid.

Normally she would keep her brother out of her antics but she had freighted herself finding this and needed reassurance from her big brother. Silence filled the cellar as they both looked at the piece of bone that had a crack down the center. Jj assumed he knew what a human skull looked like and that was not it. Gulping down the fear he began to reach out to pick it up out of the box.

“What if you touch it and its spirit haunts you forever?” Jj froze as Evelyns words. What if she was right? There was a long lapse of silence as they continued to stare at the beige, stained bone.

“You should still touch it just so we know.” Evelyn whispered her face a few inches from the box.

“Why do I have to be the one who gets haunted?” Jj pursed his lips glancing between his sister and this terrifying skull that seemed to be staring back at him.

“Cuz you’re bigger?” Evelyn asked not convinced with her own argument.

“Well-“

“What on earth do you two think you’re doing?” The sound of John’s voice roared like thunder through the room. Both children gasped then screamed bolting away from the office chair and straight to their father. Evelyn stumbled a little practically throwing herself at him. John froze for a moment as his children clung on to him. Evelyn was hugging his waist and Jj was behind him holding on to the back of his shirt.

“Thank you daddy! Jj was about to be haunted by the skull spirit.” Evelyn’s words only confused John more.

“Uh-What?” John asked prying his children off of him. The look on their fathers face had their feet rooted into the concrete floor as John waltzed over to see what they were looking at.

“Your mother is going to have a fit when I tell her you were messing with one of her artifacts.” John’s words were laced in frustration as he placed the lid back on the box and put it on your desk.

“But we weren’t! We didn’t even touch it.” Evelyn pleaded. Turning to Jj she motioned for him to add something but he just shook his head at her. Accepting they had been caught and preparing himself for the consequences.

“You know he’s watching you right now.” John turned and pointed up to the ceiling.

“Who, the skull spirit?” Evelyn looked scared and confused.

“No, Santa. And if you’re not behaving he’ll bring you coal.” John said exasperated.

“Doubt it.” Evelyn shrugged her father off.

“Sorry dad. We know better.” Jj apologized. John could only sigh. There was no point in chewing his son out when he so clearly saw his wrong doings.

“You’re not allowed down here for your safety. Upstairs, I’m going to let your mum decided what to do with you.” John shuffled his children out of your office and through the storage portion of your basement that was soon to be his office.

“So we can’t visit you down here?” Evelyn asked as she slowly went up the rickety wooden stairs.

“Only if you have permission. But from now on the basement is off limits. Understood?” John stood tall over his children as they got to the top of the stairs and stood by the back door.

“Yes, sir.” Jj and Evelyn said in unison.

“Now, go do something you’re allowed to but don’t be surprised when your mum comes down cross with the both of you.” John waited with his arms crossed over his chest watching as his children shook their heads. With that being said both of them were off, running up to Jj’s room and accidentally slamming the door so they could try and figure out a way for you not to be mad at them. The only reason John came down here in the first place was because it was too quite and when it was too quite his kids were usually up to no good.

Letting out a deep sigh John went back upstairs to the new nursery. You were folding baby clothes you had bought earlier that weekend and were putting them away. John stood in the doorway admiring his eight month pregnant wife before he told you what your children were up to. You were dressed in a fitted grey long sleeve dress that went down to your knees. It stretched over the now very large baby bump making your belly look incredibly round. Your hair was braided and pushed out of your face with the head band you had on.

“God, you’re beautiful.” John’s deep and raspy voice filled the air. You did not turn to look at him only smiled to yourself as you played with a tiny pair of socks.

“Yeah, that’s why you keep knocking me up.” You said back sarcastically.

“I already got snipped it won’t happen again.” John said dryly. Walking over to you he wrapped his strong arms around you from behind, placing his large calloused hands on your belly.

“Oh, someone’s awake.” John lit up as he felt a firm kick against his left hand.

“Yeah, she wasn’t moving until you came in. Must be the sound of your voice.” You glanced over your shoulder to see such a love struck look on your handsome man’s face. Turning in John’s muscular arms you hugged him softly. Smiling like a fool as your husband kissed your forehead then bent down to place his ear against your belly.

“You gonna be a football player too?” John asked feeling another strong kick against his hand.

“Absolutely, Jj and Evie never kicked this much.” You giggled out. Blushing slightly as John placed a kiss to your belly.

“Speaking of, what was that all about?” You pointed in the direction of Jj’s room referencing the slamming door from moments ago. Standing to his full height John sighed a bit weary about telling you what your children had been up to.

“They were rummaging around your office. Found some animal skull. Said something about being haunted by it.” John shrugged as he stared down at you. Your jaw went slightly slack as the new found knowledge. You let out a frustrated huff, then placed your face in your hands.

“I feel like they’re terrorizing me.” You mumbled into your palms.

“It’s their job, they’re kids after all.” John reassured you. John wrapped one arm around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Now let’s get this all finished up. We have the whole family coming over tomorrow for Christmas dinner. And we have to get the presents under the tree.” John’s words were slightly commanding as he rubbed your back. Placing your chin on his chest you looked up into wintery blue eyes.

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep my mum out of your hair. Just think about how happy the kids are gonna be when they see their present in the morning.” The small smile John gave you had your stress melting away slightly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You spoke in a whisper as you ran your fingers over John’s muttonchops.

The excitement of you being pregnant died down at month four. Then it turned into your children becoming needier than usual when you really started showing. Jj was kinder about it but when asked if he was excited to have another sibling he would say ‘not really.’ Other than that he did try to be a good sport about it. Even telling his sister to knock it off when she gave you a hard time.

Evelyn had been huffy with you since you were not able to pick her up anymore. Claiming that daddy had to love her more because he still carried her up to bed and picked her up when she cried. After that comment John had stopped picking her up in general since she was six and too old for it anyway. This did not make the little girl happy resulting in many outburst on how the baby was dumb and she did not want to have a little sibling anymore. It only got worse when you found out you were having a girl. Evelyn kept making you and John promise she would be your favorite daughter. Telling her you loved them all the same did not suffice.

To say your feelings were hurt was an understatement. This was the most blissful pregnancy you had ever had suffering from almost no symptoms besides mood swings and swollen ankles. You were enjoying it so much and for your kids to be unhappy about it spoiled part of it for you.

John had been amazing keeping your children at bay and helping you with everything. Doing what he knew you needed without being asked because this was his third time doing this. John was now a seasoned father and knew what to expect most times. Whether that be a heating pad for your sore back, rubbing cream on your belly to help with stretch mark, or running across town to get you your latest craving.

John was as excited as you and he could not hide it. Spoiling you and showering you with love and affection. When you helped him put his office into boxes you found a small pair of Evelyns old baby shoes sitting in one of his drawers. John told you they looked to cute on Evelyn when she was born that he kept them all this time. Now you had a proper use for them instead of it being a keep sake. It made you so incredibly happy to see John your normally stoic and stern husband being a sentimental softy.

——————

It was Christmas Day and your house was filled with John’s family. The smell of a beautiful Roast was swimming through the air along with the cookies you had baked that morning. The party was in full swing as your children and their cousins played in the living room. The adults were split between the kitchen and foyer, drinks flowing in both rooms and loud chatter.

John had decorated the downstairs while you told him where to put things. Garland wrapped around your stair way banister and both entry ways. The Christmas tree stood tall and luscious, decorated by your children with the ornaments they had made throughout the years. A few were from John’s childhood and Evelyn insisted on taping your husbands baby picture on the star. You were not sure why but it made you laugh to see John’s chubby baby face atop your tree; he did not agree with your sentiment.

Both your children had been ecstatic to see their present that morning. Jj who was just starting to out grow the idea of Santa was a good sport and did not spoil anything for his sister. Telling her she should write Santa a thank you card which the six year old ended up doing at the breakfast table. It was panning out to be a perfect day. The only thing missing was your father who did not celebrate Christmas and chose to skip the event since he had a strong dislike for John’s mother.

“Think Jj just scraped his knee.” John’s gruff voice got your attention. You were chatting with Sarah’s husband.

“I’ll grab a bandaid. I promise I’m capable.” You stopped John from moving. He had hardly let you lift a finger the past few days.

“Fine. Don’t get lost.” John teased giving you a sweet peck to the lips.

Smiling from ear to ear you made your way into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. Walking through the dinning room you could hear Mary, John’s mom talking indistinctly, she was ranting about something. That was no surprise to you. What was surprising was to hear the vile words she had just spoke about you as you walked in. She was completely unaware you had been in ear shot, if she knew she would have bitten her tongue.

“You’re fucking joking.” The words left your lips before you even registered you said them aloud.

“Wh-“ Whipping around Mary looked shocked and embarrassed having been overheard.

“Don’t you dare swear at me!” John’s mother was irate hearing the way you had just spoken to her.

She was standing in your kitchen in front of the stove amongst John’s siblings. The three of them all let out a shocked gasp before you had entered the room at their mothers words. Everyone was slack jawed and in stunned silence at what had just been said and the fact you heard it before any of them could come to your defense.

“You just said John should ask for a paternity test because I’m clearly a ‘slag.’ Do you hear yourself? You’re in our home speaking about me like that. What if Evie or Jj heard you.” You were livid. You never spoke to Mary with an attitude or any negative emotion. It felt like the years of pent up frustration and hurt feels were about to come bursting out of you.

“You may have him and everyone else fooled but not me. I’ve known you were like this since the moment I met you.” Mary spat her words at you. The embarrassment of getting caught only fueled her anger.

Taking a breath through your nose you tried to maintain a cool calm composure before you spoke. All eyes were on you, a hush falling over the kitchen. Everyone watching as your cheeks turned red from humiliation and your lip quivered from a mixture of anger and held back tears.

“Get out.” You said simply, voice hushed.

“Excuse me? You have no right to kick me out on Christmas. After keeping my grand babies away from me for so long!” Mary was now walking up to you. Harrison John’s oldest brother was quick to step between you both. His mother was not capable of violence but it was still shocking to see her try and get into the face of a very pregnant woman.

“Mum, stop.” Harrison spoke still in shock.

“What is wrong with you, mum.” Sarah spoke trying to come over to you but you turned on your heels and made your way down the hall.

You were so angry you could cry but forced yourself not to, especially in front of John’s whole family. You just needed to be as far away from Mary as humanly possible. When you passed John he gave you a quizzical look. He was not expecting you to return without a band-aid and with an upset, no furious, look on your face.

“Darling, is everything okay?” John followed you quickly to the foot of the stairs. The adults in the room turned but the children did not seem to notice anything was wrong and continued their rough housing.

“I’m going to my fathers, I’ll have him pick me up. After tonight your mother is not welcome here anymore.” Your words were coated in disdain and took everyone off guard.

In all the years you had been together with John you never once made a scene. John stood there stunned as you waddled up the stairs. Trying to follow, you told your husband you needed space so he gave you that. John knew something horrible had happened or was said so he quickly made his way into the kitchen as he heard Harrison start yelling and Grayson joining in. It was never a good sign when Grayson shouted.

When Mary found out you were pregnant she made a similar accusation but dropped it when John gave some push back. Since then little rumors had been circulating around the family all coming from her. John’s mother was convinced you were unfaithful and it had driven a wedge between her and you. Normally you tried to be sweet and kind because Mary was not your biggest fan and you wanted her approval but this was the last straw for you. You had been avoiding her the whole pregnancy and refusing to let her be alone with Jj and Evie because you were afraid of what she might say.

It had put a strain on you and John at the beginning but that quickly faded when John heard the things that had been said. Cutting off most communication with his mother and only seeing her at family events like tonight. You two thought things had settled down but clearly they had not.

“What’s going on?” John marched into the kitchen to see Harrison finger pointed in his mothers face and Grayson standing a couple feet behind him yelling over his mothers shrieks. Sarah stood with her hand over her mouth as she watched her normally calm brothers lose it.

“Get your finger out of your mothers face.” John’s father burst past him smacking Harrison hand out of Mary’s face. If this was 30 years ago Paul would have done a lot more than swat Harrison’s hand away.

All hell was breaking loose as everyone slowly flooded into the kitchen. Amy Harrison’s ex wife kept the children in the living room as Sarah pulled John aside. Now John’s father was shouting back in both his sons faces but they were not backing down either. Everything had devolved into chaos as people shouted and shrieked over each other. John was watching them intently feeling as if someone may start a physical fight.

“Mum called Y/N a slag and said you needed to get a paternity test. Y/N overheard the whole thing and confronted mum before we could say a word. She told mum to ‘get out.’” Sarah whispered into John’s ear.

John’s ears rang until all he heard was silence. He could see people lips still moving and by his father and brothers faces they were still shouting. A white hot rage slowly crept up John’s spine. His mother was turned to him crying but John still could not hear straight. His pulse now becoming rapid, fists clenched, breath slowing, and a sense of clarity washing over him as he rolled his shoulders back.

“ENOUGH!” John was so loud you swore the house shook. You could hear him clear as day from your bedroom with the door closed. Silence enveloped the room as everyone turned to look at John. The only thing that could be heard was the Christmas music coming from the other room. John’s face was stone cold as he cast an icy stare at his mother.

“Go.” John ignored everyone else. Pointing to the door he order his mother to leave.

“Johnathan, h-“

“Harrison get mums coat. She’ll be leaving.” John cut his mother off. Unblinking, nostrils flared, and mustache twitching as he held back his rage. Everyone was stunned but the people who were in the room when Mary said those cruel words were sullen because it was the right decision. John had to stick by your choice of asking his mother to leave, he owed you that.

“John, you can’t kick me and your mother out on Christmas. What about the food and grand kids?” Paul, John’s father squared his shoulders, shaking his head, and giving his son a disappointed look. As if John should be ashamed of himself.

“Fuck, the food. You don’t have to leave she does. If you chose to go with her that’s your cross to bare.” John was unwavering. Mind made up and knowing this might be the last time he saw his mother for a very long time.

“Johnny, you weren’t even in here. You didn’t hear the way she spoke to me.” Mary was crying pathetically as she spoke. Harrison’s jaw dropped and rage flashed in his eyes. Grayson was staring out the window shaking his head in disbelief, his wife was rubbing his back trying to calm him down.

“Leave.” John closed his stormy blue eyes trying to gather himself. Breathing out hard and ragged through his nose his anger was palpable.

“We’ve got it Johnny. Go check on Y/N.” Grayson nodded at John and so did Harrison and Sarah.

“Johnny, please.” Mary cried as John walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. She was sobbing loudly yelling how you had stolen him and turned John against her. How you ruined Christmas and should be ashamed.

“Daddy, is everything okay? Nan sounds so upset.” Evelyn was trembling as she ran over to her father. Jj was right behind her, tight lipped and ready to help.

“Yes, love. It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.” John squatted and gave her a big hug and a kiss to the top of the head as he moved to go upstairs.

“Can I come upstairs with you?” She asked as John went to go check on you.

“Stay with me Evie, I’ll let you put bows in my hair.” Jj was quick with his response. Taking his teary eyed sisters hand and guiding her toward her new hair and makeup kit. John sighed in relief at how much situational awareness Jj had. It was his saving grace at the moment. John said a thank you to Amy for watching the kids but she shooed him away to go check on you.

Bounding up the stairs two by two John took a deep breath before he lightly knocked and then entered your shared bedroom. Walking in John saw you had kept the lights off opting for a few lit candles instead. You were laying on your side hugging a pillow to your chest on his side of the bed and now in your matching plaid pajama set. You were already staring at John as you began to sit up awkwardly from how large your pregnant belly had gotten.

John was quick to shut the door and help you get comfortable. Sitting next to you John wrapped a muscular arm around your shoulder allowing you to lean into him and rest your head on his toned chest. You two sat there in silence the commotion from downstairs beginning to quite as John stroked your hair, his other hand resting on your protruding belly. The tears came slow and you sobbed weakly already feeling cried out from the time you spent alone before John came up to check on you.

“I’m sorry, darling.” John spoke into your hair.

“I can’t do this anymore, John. I can’t be around someone who is so cruel and nasty to me. I’m sorry I can’t tough it out. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.” You babbled and sobbed. Clutching your hands on John’s sweater you melted into his embrace. You never thought you would get to the point you had to draw a line that it was you or his mother. You had spent too many years trying to make it work so John would never have to chose between you two.

“You don’t have to anymore. I’m handling it.”

——————

“Good morning!” Evelyn sang as she walked into your room.

It was December 26th and you were still tucked in to bed. The stress from the previous night had taken a toll on your already exhausted body. Once things had settled downstairs John’s siblings each gave you a very heartfelt apology on their mothers behalf. You all still sat around the dinner table and ate together. It was awkward and you wanted to melt into the earth feeling so humiliated. People were treating you with kid gloves and you were so happy once everyone was gone.

You blubbered like a baby on the couch as John shut the front door. Your children even started crying seeing you in such bad shape. It was quite the emotional mess for John to clean up. Having to comfort his children and get them into bed and take care of his pregnant wife.

Your belly was weighing heavier after crying yourself to sleep in John’s arms after dinner. So he told you that you were exiled to stay in bed today and he would pamper you so you could recover. So far you had received a foot rub, cup of tea, and were tucked in with your show playing.

“Hello, pretty girl.” You smiled waving for her to come join you. Checking over her shoulder Evelyn zoomed into your bed. Slipping under the cover and hiding there.

“Pssst, down here.” Evelyn beckoned you. Sliding down and pulling the covers over your head you could see her pretty blue eyes staring at you seriously.

“Got a secret for me or something?” You smiled, allowing her to crawl into your arms so she was cuddled up to you. Both your heads resting on the same pillow.

“Daddy, said we need to let you rest today so we aren’t allowed in here. But I missed you so I snuck away.” Evelyn whispered.

“I missed you too.” You whispered back placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Mummy?”

“Evie?”

“Does Nan hate the baby?” Evelyn asked. Her big blue eyes were looking at you with confusion and uncertainty. This was something a child should never have to worry about and it made your heart ache.

“I don’t know. But she loves you and Jj very much.” You answered honestly. You did not have the kindness in your heart to say anything more than that regarding Mary.

“I decided I like the baby. I don’t want you to cry again.” Evelyn buried her face into your shoulder after she spoke cuddling as close as possible to you. Your normally boisterous, opinionated, and brutally honest little girl was in here worried about your feelings. You wanted to cry at the kindness of how she came around and to be so young, you felt proud to be her mom.

“You know I love you so much. You’ll always be my little daredevil.” Cupping the young girls face in your hands she smiled back at you.

“Promise?” She asked blinking at you.

“Promise.” Quiet giggles erupted from the pair of you as you hugged her tight, squishing her into you.

“Is Evie in here?” John’s voice came from your bedroom door. Evelyns eyes went wide worried she was about to get in trouble for disobeying her dads orders.

“Who?” You asked pulling the covers from your head to see John leaning against the doorway with a quirked eyebrow and amused smirk.

“Oh, her names Evelyn but we only call her that when she’s in trouble. You might know her as Evie. She’s about this tall, blue eyes, loves to climb, and cute as hell.” John moved his hand to show you her approximate height. Giggles erupted from under the covers as Evelyn heard her father description of her.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone who fits that description.” You tried to keep a straight face. Evelyn was kicking her feet causing the covers to rustle.

“Really, you’re not lying? Because if you are I have ways to get it out of you.” John was stalking into the room with mischief dancing in his eyes. His smile was wide showing off his pearly white as he approached the bed.

“How’s that?” You asked sitting up slightly to let Evelyn crawl further away under the covers.

“I’ll tickle it out of you.” John threatened. That seemed to do it. Evelyn burst out from under the cover standing on your bed with her hands out to stop her father from approaching any further.

“Stop! Don’t tickle mummy, she hates when you do that!” The young girls voice was stern as she tried to protect you in her own little way.

“Well, someone has to get tickled.” John said confidently. Evelyn booked it past John and ran out of the room in a fit of giggles abandoning you to be tickled. You were laughing as you watched John let her get a head start.

“I told her to let you rest.” John’s words were soft as he climbed into bed and sat with his back pressed against the head board. You shimmied over sitting next to him and laying your head back against the cushioned fabric. John’s hand took yours, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand gently.

“She was being sweet with me so don’t get her in too much trouble.” You spoke softly letting your head lull to the side and rest on John’s broad shoulder.

“Sweet? And she wasn’t expecting anything in return?” John joked about his cunning daughter.

“She asked if your mum hates the baby. Then told me she ‘decided she likes the baby.’ She seems upset about me crying so much last night.” Glancing over you could see your husbands pain riddled expression.

“They’re both upset about you crying. Been asking me all morning if you’re alright.” The admission made you and John both sigh heavily. Your kids were going to be scarred by this and probably get anxious around Christmas time next year.

“I feel so bad they had to see me like that.” The guilt weighed heavy. All you wished was that you could have stayed strong until both Jj and Evelyn were in bed.

“Darling, any normal woman would have cried too. Stop holding yourself to these impossibly high standards.” It sounded like a complaint but you knew John was only trying to comfort you.

“What are we going to tell them?” Taking a breath you closed your eyes trying to fight back the stress weighing you down.

“That Nan can be quite a bully and you finally stood up for yourself. And now when we go over to visit her it’ll just be me taking them.” John said confidently. You did not think it was going to be that simple but you allowed him to take solace in his words.

“You’re sure you’re alright if I stop going over or attending any family events she’s at?” You asked already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, and we’ll only be dropping by and then we’ll rush home to spend the rest of the day with you.” John nodded confidently. Wrapping his arm around you and kissing your forehead. His thick bearded tickled the sensitive skin making you feel safe.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“I still don’t see myself taking them over for a very long time. Not until you’ve received and adequate apology.” John added for good measure. You already knew that after the conversation you two had in the early morning before the kids were awake.

“You might never see her then, John.” The words were meant to be teasing but it was something that might end up being true.

“Let’s hope she comes ‘round. Now, on a lighter note. How does scrambled eggs and toast sound?” John kissed you hard after he spoke. Then getting out of bed he turned with a small smile to see you staring at him with a bit of worry dancing in your eyes.

“Are you making it?” You asked skeptically.

“Course.” There was a long lapse of silence as you and John stared at each other.

“Takeaway?” John asked.

“Might be best.” You smiled having little faith in his cooking abilities.

“On it, same as last time?” The words were distant as John turned and headed out the bedroom door.

“Yes, please.” You smiled sweetly.

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” John paused in the doorway turning only slightly to look at you from the corner of his eye.

“Your last Christmas present is in my sock drawer.” With that John left the room. The floorboards creaking under his weight as he jogged downstairs.

You perked up at the idea he had one last thing for you. You both had promised no big gifts or anything of the sort. John had given you a pass to an all inclusive couples spa retreat that you were stoked to use after you had the baby. You had gotten him a new pair of hiking boots and put together a large package of assorted sweets and candies from around the world. John was ecstatic going on a tangent of how he had tried certain sweets while deployed and then began ranking which ones were the best.

Getting out of bed slowly you made your way across the room to his dresser. Opening his sock drawer you began to rummage around. First finding an envelope that had a few scandalous Polaroids of you; rolling your eyes you put them back. Then you found a small navy blue box. It was square and about two inches by two inches. Opening it you were expecting John to have splurged again and got you a piece of jewelry but your eyes widened when you saw the contents that lay inside.

“JOHN! Did you buy me a car!?”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Heist Society by Ally Carter

When Katarina Bishop was three, her parents took her on a trip to the Louvre…to case it. For her seventh birthday, Katarina and her Uncle Eddie traveled to Austria…to steal the crown jewels. When Kat turned fifteen, she planned a con of her own—scamming her way into the best boarding school in the country, determined to leave the family business behind. Unfortunately, leaving “the life” for a normal life proves harder than she’d expected.

Soon, Kat's friend and former co-conspirator, Hale, appears out of nowhere to bring Kat back into the world she tried so hard to escape. But he has a good reason: a powerful mobster has been robbed of his priceless art collection and wants to retrieve it. Only a master thief could have pulled this job, and Kat's father isn't just on the suspect list, he is the list. Caught between Interpol and a far more deadly enemy, Kat’s dad needs her help.

For Kat, there is only one solution: track down the paintings and steal them back. So what if it's a spectacularly impossible job? She's got two weeks, a teenage crew, and hopefully just enough talent to pull off the biggest heist in her family's history--and, with any luck, steal her life back along the way.

Amulet by Kazu Kibuishi

After the tragic death of their father, Emily and Navin move with their mother to the home of her deceased great-grandfather, but the strange house proves to be dangerous. Before long, a sinister creature lures the kids' mom through a door in the basement. Em and Navin, desperate not to lose her, follow her into an underground world inhabited by demons, robots, and talking animals.

Eventually, they enlist the help of a small mechanical rabbit named Miskit. Together with Miskit, they face the most terrifying monster of all, and Em finally has the chance to save someone she loves.

The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Ten-year-old Ada has never left her one-room apartment. Her mother is too humiliated by Ada’s twisted foot to let her outside. So when her little brother Jamie is shipped out of London to escape the war, Ada doesn’t waste a minute—she sneaks out to join him.   So begins a new adventure of Ada, and for Susan Smith, the woman who is forced to take the two kids in. As Ada teaches herself to ride a pony, learns to read, and watches for German spies, she begins to trust Susan—and Susan begins to love Ada and Jamie. But in the end, will their bond be enough to hold them together through wartime? Or will Ada and her brother fall back into the cruel hands of their mother?

Ascendance by Jennifer Nielsen

In a discontent kingdom, civil war is brewing. To unify the divided people, Conner, a nobleman of the court, devises a cunning plan to find an impersonator of the king's long-lost son and install him as a puppet prince. Four orphans are recruited to compete for the role, including a defiant boy named Sage. Sage knows that Conner's motives are more than questionable, yet his life balances on a sword's point—he must be chosen to play the prince or he will certainly be killed. But Sage's rivals have their own agendas as well.

As Sage moves from a rundown orphanage to Conner's sumptuous palace, layer upon layer of treachery and deceit unfold, until finally, a truth is revealed that, in the end, may very well prove more dangerous than all of the lies taken together.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi

An ocean voyage of unimaginable consequences... Not every thirteen-year-old girl is accused of murder, brought to trial, and found guilty. But I was just such a girl, and my story is worth relating even if it did happen years ago. Be warned, however: If strong ideas and action offend you, read no more. Find another companion to share your idle hours. For my part I intend to tell the truth as I lived it.

The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey. 

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule--but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her--even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter

When orphaned, eleven-year-old Pollyanna comes to live with austere and wealthy Aunt Polly, her philosophy of gladness brings happiness to her aunt and other unhappy members of the community.

Paddington Bear by Michael Bond

Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington, a most endearing bear from Darkest Peru on a railway platform in London. A sign hanging around his neck said, "Please look after this bear. Thank you" So that is just what they did.

From the very first night when he attempted his first bath and ended up nearly flooding the house, Paddington was seldom far from imminent disaster. Jonathan and Judy were delighted with this havoc and even Mr. and Mrs. Brown had to admit that life seemed to be more filled with adventure when there was a bear in the house.

Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke

A dragon. A boy. A journey. Firedrake, a brave young dragon, his loyal brownie friend Sorrel and a lonely boy called Ben are united as if by destiny. Together, they embark on a magical journey to find the legendary place where silver dragons can live in peace for ever. With only a curious map and the whispered memories of an old dragon to guide them, they fly across moonlit lands and seas to reach the highest mountains in the world. Along the way, they discover extraordinary new friends in unlikely places and a courage they never knew they had. Just as well, for the greatest enemy of all is never far behind them - a heartless monster from the past who's been waiting a very long time to destroy the last dragons on earth.

Wings by Aprilynne Pike

Laurel was mesmerized, staring at the pale things with wide eyes. They were terrifyingly beautiful—too beautiful for words.

Laurel turned to the mirror again, her eyes on the hovering petals that floated beside her head. They looked almost like wings.

[dearyanderenewspaper]

📰 DEAR YANDERE – Special Report from Obsession Weekly

🏡 LOVE LOCKDOWN: Housing Reviews for the Hopelessly Devoted

1. Secluded Forest Cottage

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4.5/5)

Overview: A charming, rustic getaway deep in the woods. Zero cell service, plenty of scenic walking trails (for supervised strolls), and a roaring fireplace for cozy nights in.

Pros: ✔ Remote and escape-proof (if they don’t know how to navigate a forest). ✔ Cozy, romantic aesthetic—feels like a fairy tale! ✔ No nosy neighbors or unexpected visitors.

Cons: ✖ Hard to get deliveries. You’ll need to plan supply runs in advance. ✖ Wild animals may pose a minor inconvenience (or opportunity, depending on how you spin it). ✖ If Darling does escape, it could take days to track them down.

Review: “Absolutely stunning location! My Darling cried for the first few weeks, but once they realized nobody could hear them, they really settled in. Only downside is the occasional bear sighting, but hey, that just keeps them from wandering too far! Would rent again.” – User: ❄️ColdEmbrace98

2. Basement in Your House

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

Overview: Classic, reliable, and convenient! Keep your Darling close while maintaining total control.

Pros: ✔ Always within arm’s reach (perfect for clingy Yanderes!). ✔ Easy to renovate for maximum comfort or security. ✔ Can be soundproofed to avoid unwanted attention.

Cons: ✖ Potential mold issues—invest in a dehumidifier! ✖ Darling may try to appeal to guests or family members. ✖ Frequent stairs can be a hassle if you’re carrying meals daily.

Review: “10/10. Zero escape attempts after the first month. I installed a little skylight so they wouldn’t get seasonal depression (because mental health matters!!). Basement life is simple, yet effective. Highly recommend.” – User: ChainsOfLove444

3. High-Rise Apartment

⭐️⭐️⭐️☆☆ (3/5)

Overview: Urban convenience meets security! A high-rise unit minimizes escape routes while keeping you close to modern amenities.

Pros: ✔ No easy exits—unless they develop Spider-Man skills overnight. ✔ Access to takeout, shopping, and other city luxuries. ✔ Soundproofing available in most upscale buildings.

Cons: ✖ Maintenance workers and nosy neighbors may cause problems. ✖ Darling could try signaling from the window—blinds are a must. ✖ Noise complaints if they get too loud.

Review: “Not bad, but high rent makes this a questionable long-term solution. Almost got caught when my Darling ‘accidentally’ waved to the UberEats driver. Security deposits don’t cover claw marks on the front door, FYI.” – User: CityObsessed_Yan

4. Abandoned Warehouse

⭐️☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Overview: Industrial chic or just a terrible idea? While spacious, an abandoned warehouse may not be the best place for long-term Darling storage.

Pros: ✔ Tons of space for… activities. ✔ No risk of surprise visitors. ✔ Surprisingly good acoustics (if you enjoy dramatic monologues).

Cons: ✖ Zero insulation—freezing in winter, boiling in summer. ✖ High chance of squatters or urban explorers discovering your setup. ✖ Echoes make Darling’s screaming extra dramatic (not always a plus).

Review: “Look, I thought it would be ‘mysterious’ and ‘cool,’ but it’s just cold and creepy. My Darling called me ‘the Dollar Store Jigsaw’ and honestly? They’re not wrong. Left a bad taste in my mouth. 0/10, had to move out.” – User: MaskedLover99

5. Underground Bunker

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

Overview: The ultimate prepper’s dream! Underground bunkers provide unmatched security and long-term sustainability.

Pros: ✔ 100% escape-proof. ✔ Completely private—no one will ever find you. ✔ Great for doomsday scenarios (or just keeping Darling forever).

Cons: ✖ Hard to get fresh air and natural light. ✖ WiFi connection? Forget about it. ✖ Darling may develop a bunker-induced existential crisis.

Review: “PERFECT. My Darling gave up on escape within two weeks. Installed a fake window with LED screens to simulate the outdoors, and now they barely remember life outside. Highly recommend investing in one if you’re serious about this lifestyle.” – User: EternalDevotionX

6. Houseboat

⭐️⭐️⭐️☆☆ (3/5)

Overview: Love the open water? A houseboat offers a unique, mobile captivity experience.

Pros: ✔ Escape is nearly impossible unless they can swim for miles. ✔ Constantly moving means nobody will find you. ✔ Romantic sunsets on the water? Yes, please.

Cons: ✖ Limited space—cabin fever is a real thing. ✖ Risk of Darling figuring out how to operate the boat. ✖ Docking fees add up over time.

Review: “Not bad, but I had to sleep with one eye open after my Darling almost threw me overboard. Great for short-term stays, but for long-term captivity? Stick to land.” – User: OceanBoundObsession

7. RV / Van Life

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4/5)

Overview: Portable, flexible, and fun! Travel with your Darling without staying in one place too long.

Pros: ✔ No fixed address = harder to track. ✔ Cozy interior can feel homey with the right setup. ✔ Road trips!

Cons: ✖ Gas prices make this lifestyle expensive. ✖ Darling may attempt escape at rest stops. ✖ Limited space for, well… anything.

Review: “I liked the mobility, but my Darling managed to honk the horn and draw attention at a gas station. Would recommend for shorter-term ‘acquisitions,’ but not ideal for permanent setup.” – User: WanderlustPossessive

[sparklyskies0]

always almost

chapter 1: “the skating rink, the backseat, and everything in between”

You met on a Friday night at the Roller Palace in Saugus, and nothing really feels like it changes.

Not at first, anyway.

You’re turning fourteen, and you hate that people keep telling you its a big deal. Youre old enough to know parties like this are just your moms way of overcompensating─renting out the rink for two hours, taping dollar store decorations to the walls, and inviting kids you don't even like from school.

Youre sitting on one of the benches that lines the skate floor. Your legs are crossed, your ankles ache from the too-loose rentals, and youre picking at the chipped glitter polish on your nails. The music is too loud, your bangs are stuck to your forehead, and your best friend bailed last minute because she "wasnt feeling good."

Youve never felt more invisible in your life.

And then someone drops a pack of skittles in your lap.

You glance up, expecting some class clown trying to be cute, but its not that.

Its a boy. Hes in your grade─one of those triplets. Hes the quiet one. The one who doesn't wear snapbacks backward or speak over everyone else.

You think his name is Matt.

"purples the best," he says, pointing at the skittles like hes known you forever.

You blink. "I dont really like candy."

He shrugs, plops down beside you. "Me neither. But i didnt wanna come over here empty-handed."

You stare at him for a second, caught off guard.

He doesnt seem nervous or bored. Hes just..there. Sitting with you like you're already friends. Like there isn't a dozen other people he could be hanging out with. His brothers for instance.

"I saw you skating," he says, eyes still on the rink. "You kept grabbing the wall like it owed you money."

You snort despite yourself. "Yeah, well. It tried to trip me."

He smiles.

You don't realize it then, but this is the first time someone your age has made you laugh when you didn't want to.

He looks at you like its easy. Being here. Talking to you. Like hes not forcing it.

"You wanna go back out?' he asks, nudging your knee with his.

You think about saying no. But then you look at him─his sweatshirt is oversized and his skates are scuffed, and he smells like laundry detergent and something warm.

You nod, standing up a little too fast. He holds out his hand to steady you when you wobble, and neither of you let go right away.

You both skated around the rink together. For once you weren't glancing at all the other kids around you, wishing you could muster up the little courage to conversate with them at your own birthday party... or thinking of your mother who left to go smoke a cigarette.

At the end of night, you give him your number.

A week later, he sends you a Youtube link to a song youve never heard before with a text that just says: "this reminded me of you. dont read into it."

You listen to it eight times before bed.

The first time you hang outside of school is at Nick's house.

Or Matts. Or Chris's. Technically its their parents; but Matt's the one who invites you.

Its nothing big. Just a movie in their basement. Matt says to come at 7. You get there at 6:45.

Nick meets you at the door. Hes barefoot and holding a plastic bowl of microwave popcorn, and he barely makes eye contact when he says, "Hes downstairs."

Chris yells something from the kitchen about someone stealing his Sour Patch Watermelons, and you smile awkwardly as you squeeze past him.

Matts in the basement already, setting up a projector against the far wall. He looks up and grins when he sees you. "You came."

"Yeah," you say, tugging at your sleeves. "I brought candy.."

You hold up the little bag of purple skittles you picked out from the gas station down the street. His eyes light up.

"Dude," he says, "you remembered."

You sit next to eachother on the beanbag that sinks too low to be comfortable. Halfway through the movie, Chris flops beside you and starts heckling the characters, making you laugh so hard you almost choke.

But its Matt who hands you water. Matt who shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours. Matt who stays quiet and lets you laugh, like your happiness is something he wants to protect, not compete with.

When the movie ends, you help him put the projector away.

You catch him looking at you when he thinks youre not looking.

You say nothing.

You dont need to.

You’re fifteen when you realize you love him.

Its not romantic. Not yet. Its deeper than that.

Youre at his house again. Sitting in his car─or technically Marylou's minivan. He plays you a playlist he made specifically for "driving through neighborhoods you'll never live in."

He lets you scroll through it. You pause on one that catches your eye.

"Cherry wine?"

He doesnt say anything for a second. Just turns the volume down low, then glances at you.

"Its about love that hurts."

You dont ask if it reminds him of someone. You dont want to know.

Instead, you lean your head against the window and whisper, "you always play sad songs."

He half smiles. "They make me feel less crazy."

You understand. In a way you never really understood anything before.

And when he drops you off that night, he waits until youre inside before pulling away. You watch from the window as he sits there, idling for a few seconds.

Like hes waiting for something.

Then hes gone.

There were so many nights like that.

Movie nights. 3am texts. Drives to nowhere. Sitting in his driveway long after the car's been parked.

You talk about everything and nothing.

He tells you about how he hates not having a door in the triplet room. About how he always feels responsible for everyone else. About how Chris gets away with everything and Nick never talks about how hes feeling, and sometimes Matt's scared he'll end up invisible.

You tell him about your mom.

About how she forgets to pick you up sometimes. About the fights. About how you hate going home.

He doesnt try to fix it. Doesnt offer cliche comforts.

He just listens.

He always listens.

You’re sixteen when he pulls you into a hug that lasts a second too long.

Its your birthday again. You had no party this year. You told everyone you didnt want one, but Matt shows up anyway.

Hes holding a box of red velvet cupcakes and a card that says "You dont have to celebrate to be celebrated."

You blink back tears. He pretends not to notice.

Later, in his car, he lets you choose the music. Lets you eat two cupcakes before dinner. Lets you cry without asking why.

When he drops you off, he opens his arms wordlessly. You step into them like you've done it a million times before.

He smells like soap and hoodie fabric and something hard to describe─comfort, maybe.

His hand presses lightly against your back, not pushing or pulling, just there.

When you pull away, he looks at you like he wants to say something.

You look at him like you already know what it is.

Neither of you say it.

Not yet.

Authors Note

i have this problem where i can’t focus on one fic at a time so yes i’m dropping this

while still working on my dilf matt fic

i fr can’t help myself

i also haven’t been to sleep yet so this is me rn

xoxo, paris

[annaizscribbling]

one of those Stardew drabbles where the farmer is not quite human but from different villager perspectives. Here's Sebby's

(Pt 1) (pt 2) (pt 3) (pt 4) (pt 5) (pt 6) (pt 7) (pt 8)

Sebastian sipped his piping hot coffee. He took it with a bit of cream these days. He was comfortably settled against his favorite windowsill, watching his wife work in the field. The sun politely warmed his pale skin. He’d gained a little color since moving to the farm, but not enough to really lose his sickly pallor. He made sure of that, wearing plenty of sunscreen.

He’s content. It’s nice to feel that way. Living in a stuffy basement, working and isolating himself felt foggy and miserable. But now, he’s happy. Calmer. He managed to get out of that old environment, and here with his wife, life finally seemed to mean something. He doesn’t long to escape and become something, instead, what he already is has become something worthwhile.

Living on a quiet farm, making breakfast for his wife, picking fruit and feeding chickens. It brings out a softness in him, a side that never fully been realized. Tenderness. Serenity. Peace.

Sebastion watches his wife chew some raw seaweed, pulled directly from her little black backpack. She’s never without that bag, as soon as she gets out of bed, it’s over her shoulder until she sleeps again. His eyes trail her bare arms as she clears some rocks. He’d given up on understanding how and why she consumes some strange foods, as long as he can wrangle her into a few balanced meals with him, he doesn’t care too much.

Her muscles are toned, far more defined than his will probably ever be. She hefts her pickaxe high above her head before brining it down onto the stone, shattering it. She’s quick to scoop up the rocks she wants as she kicks the rest to the side. His wife could do it for hours without pause, hours upon hours. Time always seemed to part for her.

She unknowingly flexes her bicep as she prepares to strike again. So strong, he can’t help but lean a little further into the window to catch a good glimpse. The little black tank top she usually wears leaves her deeply tanned olive skin on display. There’s hardly a sheen of sweat on her, which Sebastion always found strange. He takes one step outside on a summer day and he’s instantly disgusting. Somehow every hair on her face is immaculate and the thick eyeliner she applies every morning is always inexplicitly intact.

Perhaps he once thought of her as a strange woman, but now she’s his strange woman. The love of his life, the sexy farmer who he accidently stumbled into a romance with. The quiet, perhaps at times eerie, foreign city girl who changed the whole town. Who changed him …

He enjoyed watching her. It didn’t really matter what she was doing, her existence just drew him in. Sometimes he felt like a housecat unwilling to leave a sunbeam. Her radiance warmed him, calmed him, it made him feel like he was exactly where fate wanted him to be. She was the sun, or at least she was his. It didn’t matter what he was, so long as he could bask in her presence.

Speak of the devil, Sebastian doesn’t realize she’s come back inside until the front door opens. He discovers that he’s smiling before he’s even realized he’s turned his head to look at her.

Short curls that don’t seem to care for gravity and its rules. Freckled olive skin. Big brown eyes that seem to melt anybody who stares into them long enough. Muscles that he longs to caress and be wrapped up in each morning. Big heavy boots who have seen more monster blood and dirt than most do in their lifetimes. A shy smile.

The Farmer. His wife.

“Hey, Babe,” Sebatian says, “want some coffee? I woke up early from a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She smiles, and it’s so genuine that even now that they’ve been married a year, his heart just swells with that fluttery kinda love. His wife wasn’t a huge talker, it’s not that she didn’t talk at all, but she often spoke with her face. At this moment, her soft eyes are telling him everything he needs to know.

Soon, they’re cuddled together on the big sofa his mother had built. A cup of coffee for each of them rests on the coffee table. She’s resting her head on his lap, looking up at him with a dreaminess he’s sure is present on his own face.

“I have a gift for you,” she whispers, reaching into her bag, which she slipped off her shoulder and onto the rug. “Eyes closed, please.”

Sebastian does as he’s told. He feels her warm hands pry open his cold one, and something chilly is pushed into his palm. One side of his mouth turns up in a knowing smile. He knows what the gift is by the shape, and it charms him just as much as it did the first time she brought him one.

“A frozen tear,” Sebastian says fondly, holding up the glassy, perpetually cold little tear. He loves collecting them, keeping them, studying them. The first one she ever gave him is his favorite. He even had Clint turn it into a necklace. It’s under his hoodie on a chain even now, slightly cold, pressing against his chest, gently reminding him how much somebody loves him.

“It’s perfect,” Sebastian says, rubbing his thumb over the round base of the tear.

She tries to give him another one, but Sebastion laughs and tells her to stop spoiling him. He’ll take it later, when he doesn’t see it coming. One gift a day is already so much, especially combined with getting to hold her every night. A man’s heart can only handle so much.

Sometimes he wonders how she could possibly be of this world. She’s an angel. She’s a celestial being who commands the earth below her feet by purely existing. He’s sure of it some days. The plants grow like they’re reaching for her somehow. The waters always bring a fresh fish for her hook within seconds. The two can go looking for seashells together, but they’ll wash up to shore just for her, surely they must be. She heals weary souls by simply talking to her. Her farm animals love her, managing to produce perfect eggs and milk through their adoration for her.

Sebastion didn’t really know what she was, but he loved her.

[frogsmulder]

34 & 36 msr

The Christmas Ruse

In order to avoid being set up with one of her mum's friends' sons, Scully uses Mulder's help to create a fake relationship. But Mulder doesn't know; about 3.4k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on ao3

Deep in the basement of the J Edgar Hoover building, December 23rd, Scully is about to leave the office. Winter coat pulled off the rack, one arm through and then the other, her heels clip towards the door when she stops in her tracks. Hesitating for a brief moment, she considers if she is really about to do this, but the alternative seems far more agonising. Lip caught between her teeth, she turns around to face Mulder, still at his desk. He looks up from the work he is still buried in despite the late hour: everyone else in the building has gone home, save for the janitor and herself. His hair is ruffled, his tie loose and a frown is perfectly sculpted across his brow. She could do worse as friends go. 

“Mulder…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you free tomorrow? About eight?”

He leans back in his chair, hands behind his head in mock consideration. “That's gonna be a little tough for me: I've got a file on a green, furry cryptid here that the higher-ups want caught before he steals all the joy out of Christmas.”

She can't help but roll her eyes. “I'll take that as a yes.”

“Depends: why d’you ask?” He leans forward again, hands clasped together on the desk in front of him, attentive, his whole gaze trained on her. 

“I–” she licks her lip– “I'll pick you up at seven.”

“Ooh a surprise!” he chuckles. “I like surprises. But if it's not a trip to Whoville, I'll be disappointed.”

She laughs, “happy holidays, Mulder,” as she walks out the door.

...

Her mind is blank, clear of any form of thought as the elevator dings, opening to the fourth floor of Hegal Place, Alexandria. She steps forward, automatic pilot steering her to the end of the corridor. If she starts thinking now, everything will cascade into a torrent of worry, and there will be no coming back. Checking her watch, she sees she is earlier than she had anticipated. She raises her knuckles to the wood. And then her hand drops without a sound. What if she is too early? What if she's interrupting him? Turning on her heel she walks back to wait in the car. But that is ridiculous. She should just knock and wait inside if he isn't ready. Yet upon reaching his door, she feels that magnetic repulsion again. Again she turns away. 

This time it isn't her own doubt that stops her but the sound of the door opening behind her. Mulder's head pops out. 

“Hey, Scully!” He grins. “You gonna pace around outside for the next twenty minutes or are you gonna let me invite you in?”

She opens her mouth to say something when he widens the door and motions for her to get moving. His casual nature bemuses her. He saunters in ahead, bare-chested, hair slightly damp, just a pair of jeans, drawing her eyes down to how well they hang on his hips and fit his ass. 

“You didn't give me a dress code: is this alright?” He picks up a black t-shirt and a navy sweater, spinning around to hold them against his chest like a professional designer. 

She smirks, “yeah, that'll do nicely.”

He grins again as he wriggles into the garments. A moment of confusion passes his features before he looks around and bends over to look under the coffee table. Retrieving a bottle of aftershave, he sprays some on, and then looks satisfied with his appearance. Scully certainly is. A waft of the scent captivates her as he puts the bottle back on the table. 

“Good to go?”

He snaps her from her thoughtless mind “Oh, uh, yeah.”

The drive is pleasant enough. Crisp frosted scenery flies by while seasonal songs float from the car stereo. In the corner of her eye, she notices Mulder quietly humming and tapping along to the music, having no right to be as endearing as he is. She smiles, and focuses on the road ahead. 

“So, I am allowed to ask where we are going now, or is it still a surprise?”

“We are going for a Scully Christmas eve dinner. It's, uh, a sort of tradition we have each year: close family get together to share time before the big day tomorrow–before all the aunts come over and fuss over how Christmas should be done properly in the traditional Irish Catholic way.” She laughs a little, remembering how Aunt Marie had to be kicked out of the kitchen by her mother. “And my mom invited you.”

Mulder whistles. “Wow, that's a high honour indeed. I feel bad now coming empty handed.”

“Don't worry, there's a bottle of red on the backseat from both of us.”

“Both of us? Will your mother have something to be suspicious about?” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. 

“It's nothing like that,” she laughs. “She's just been asking after you a lot lately. I think she's secretly trying to adopt you.”

“Well, I couldn't think of a better person to be adopted by than Mrs Scully.”

Scully bites her lip, considering whether to tell him the truth, but decides it isn't worth it. Her mom has already apologised to Jack: he won't be there, and that's the main thing. She grips the steering wheel a little tighter. 

They pull up to the house and she sees Bill’s family wagon is already in the driveway and she curses quietly under her breath, she had hoped to settle in before he showed up. 

She gets out of the car and picks up the bottle of wine. Mulder is waiting for her on the other side, arm curled in invitation. She links her own arm through and shakes her head at how well he's playing the role he doesn't even know he's got. At the top of the path, she nervously opens the door, preparing herself for the evening ahead. The irony is, she would rather be having dinner with just Mulder, but then again she's never managed to be the traditional sort. 

“Hi Mom, Bill, we're here!”

“We're in the kitchen sweetie!” her mother calls back. 

Mulder groans and bends down to whisper harshly in her ear, “You never said Bill Jr was here.”

“I said close family.”

“I think I left my diplomacy mask in the trunk, let me go get it.”

She chuckles and tugs him along to the kitchen. 

She first presents her mother with the wine and receives a big hug in return before Maggie sees who she has brought with her. 

“Oh Fox! How wonderful to see you.” She cups his face and reaches up to kiss his cheek, before standing back, holding by the arms and admiring him. “Although I can't say I'm surprised; Dana has been talking about you a lot lately.”

“Oh really?” Mulder turns teasingly to Scully with his eyebrows raised. 

Maggie laughs, “Yes, I was starting to think she was making the whole thing–”

“Mom!” Scully interrupts, blushing bright red. 

“Sorry, Dana,” She chuckles and releases Mulder back to her. “Would you like some prosecco, the two of you?”

Scully eyes Bill standing a few steps behind their mother, watching Mulder warily. 

“That sounds wonderful, Mrs Scully.”

“Oh, Maggie, please; you're part of the family, Fox.”

“That's very kind of you, Maggie.”

She walks up to him and opens her arms as a peace offering. “Hey Bill, long time no see. Your boat didn't get stuck in traffic this time then?”

He finally relaxes and accepts her hug

“How's my little sister doing?”

“I'm good,” she sighs. “Where are Tara and the kids?”

“She's just giving them a bath before they go to bed.” He steps back and gives her a smile. “Don't worry, they'll be down in time to say good night to their favourite aunt.” 

She smiles to hide the pain of the hidden dig; the absence of Melissa felt the most this time of year. 

“Mom was telling me you brought a date.” He glances back over to Mulder. “Seriously? Him?”

She sighs, knowing this was an eventuality. “I don't want to do this now, Bill, it's Christmas. Can we just leave it alone?”

He steps forward, insistent. “But after all he's done to you?”

“Bill, I won't say it again. He's been there for me and supported me despite what you think.” She looks over to Mulder too, and how easily he talks to her mom. Her mother is right, he is a part of this family even if it's not in the way she thinks. “I don't want any trouble this evening, Bill, please.”

He nods tersely, the matter still clearly bothering him. She decides to leave it and joins Mulder, wrapping herself around his arm and taking the flute of bubbling alcohol gratefully. Despite trying to mask it, Mulder senses her tension and smoothly twines his fingers with hers, grounding her the way no-one else has ever has. 

...

The rest of the evening flows relatively effortlessly as family gatherings go. Matthew comes bounding down the stairs followed shortly by Tara and a baby already sleepy-eyed resting on her shoulder. Matthew runs up to his grandma and jumps onto her lap in the armchair. 

“Are you all clean and ready for bed now?” Maggie coos. 

He shakes his head. “I not tired. Not need bed.” And then he points a finger across the room. “Funny man?”

From the corner of her eye, Scully can see Mulder chuckle next to her as he slowly gets up to introduce himself. 

“Hi, Dana!” Tara offers a wave with one hand, gently bouncing the baby “Sorry I didn't get to say hi earlier I had my hands full.”

“Sure looks that way,” Scully laughs. She gets up to stroke the fuzzy hair of her newest nephew and give him a kiss on his crown. “He's grown so much already,” She marvels. “Oh, this is Mulder by the way–” she gestures over to where Mulder is ruffling Matthews hair– “Mulder, the only other woman besides mom that's been able to keep my brother in check.”

“I see we are going to get along,” Mulder chuckles. 

“Oh he's not that bad really.” Tara looks fondly over at her husband trying to gently extract their son from Maggie’s arms, much to the grumpy protests of Matthew. “He's really a teddy bear underneath it all.”

“Just don't let my crewmen hear about it.”

“No, Daddy, no! Me not tired!”

Bill gruffs and hoists Matthew up, barely holding on to him as arms and legs flail. 

“Can I?” Mulder asks cautiously and Bill gives him a contemptuous look as Scully raises an incredulous eyebrow. 

“You know what day it is today, Matthew?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Kissmas eve.”

Mulder nods seriously. “And what happens on Christmas eve?”

“Santa comes.”

“But you know Santa only comes if you are asleep. He is very shy.” He leans on conspiratorially to whisper in the boys ear. “He can't bring your presents if you're awake.”

“But... But… I good boy,” he pouts. 

Mulder smiles. “You have to be good all year round, including Christmas eve. And good boys go to bed when their mommy asks them to.”

Matthew considers this for a moment. “You good boy?”

“Yes,” Mulder laughs. “But the question is, are you?”

Matthew nods and clings to his father. “Bed time then Santa?”

“That's right,” Bill chimes in. “Come on, let's get you to bed.” 

He gets up the stairs with little fuss. Over his shoulder a tired child yawns. “Bye bye, aunty Dana!” he says. “Bye bye, funny man!”

On his way past, Tara mouths thank you to Mulder, who waves it off as if it was no big thing. Scully looks at him, mouth hanging open, both her shock and curiosity showing through. She had watched the whole thing unfold in front of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. How? She wonders, while a quieter voice deeper inside whispers dangerous day-dreams. She fights to keep it tamped down, knowing its impossibility; its only real ability to hurt her in the future. 

Maggie pats Mulder's arm as she moves through to the kitchen, pausing to add, “You'll make a great father one day, Fox.”

A strange sting of jealousy sings with that chorus at her mother's words. Scully shakes it off. “Mulder,” she smiles with awe. “How did you know that would work?”

He shrugs. “I guess those hostage negotiation classes paid off.”

She laughs but doesn't let the matter slide. “No, really?”

“I used to encourage my sister to bed the same way. For some reason she listened to me.” He gets a wistful look in his eye. “But there was that one time we conspired to stay up to catch Santa together. Well, our father wasn't very pleased.”

...

Later, sat around the dinner table, Scully edges closer to Mulder, conscious to keep the appearance of the happy couple up. Part of her is anxious that Mulder will become suspicious of her behaviour, question her and force her to reveal her ruse. The other part wars with herself about how easy and natural it is to act like she loves him. She fidgets with the hem of her blouse under the table, straightening herself out as her mother passes out portions of homemade cottage pie. The smell of it takes her back to her childhood when she and her siblings used to fight over who got the leftovers. She remembers Missy taking putty on her and sneaking her some to not make the others jealous. 

“So,” Tara chirps brightly, bringing Scully out of her reverie. “How do you and Mulder know each other?”

She opens her mouth but no words come out, the inevitable question catching her off guard. “Um… We work together… he's my– we're– he's my partner.” She shields her gaze from Bill’s stern stare and catches Mulder's amused smirk. Her cheeks start to burn and she is sure everyone can see her blush. 

“Ahhh.” Tara gives her a knowing smile. “And how long has that been going on for?”

“It's, uh–

“Relatively new,” Mulder fills in for her. Surprised, Scully whips her head to stare at him. 

“Well, I'm glad for you Dana, you look happier than I've seen you in a while. And who knows maybe you'll even get to start a family of your own: he seems great with kids.”

Her mother jumps in before she can reply, sensing her unease, knowing her desires for motherhood will only ever remain as that. “Come now, there's no need for an interrogation,” she jokes light heartedly. 

Scully finally looks to Mulder with a smile and says quietly, “Yeah, he is.”

The blush on his cheeks warms her heart and she licks her lips. Maybe it could be this easy to love him. 

Her mother raises “A toast to this Christmas, to family.”

“And to Mulder and Dana,” Tara adds. 

“Bill,” Maggie smiles. “Will you do the honours?”

Bill nods and clasps his hands together leading everyone into grace with a bowed head and closed eyes. “Bless this food and the hands that prepared it–”

Under the table Scully feels Mulder shift, his hand reaching out to her, fingers walking along her lap to find her hand. She turns it over, allowing him to lace his fingers through hers. She breaks her prayer to look at him, confused but not unpleasantly surprised. With everyone keeping vigil, he smiles softly, privately, as if they were the only two people to exist in this world. When Bill utters the words “Amen,” Mulder squeezes her hand before quickly letting go, moving his gaze elsewhere as conversation resumes.

...

After dinner, Scully, stays sitting at the table for a while, watching the swirling bubble in her flute rise to the top and burst. Tara helps her mother clear away and Mulder quietly excuses himself for some fresh air. She bites her lip, sensing his discomfort with the intimate family setting. She briefly wonders what Christmas eve at the Mulder household is like, before remembering last year he had invited to go ghostbusting. Maybe he would prefer to be there than here, suffocated in an environment he barely recognises. She was too selfish to consider how out of place he would feel, but she can’t deny that having him by her side the last few hours has been an immense source of strength for her. She is not sure she could give up his company even if she wanted to.

Bill’s chair makes a scraping sound against the hardwood floor as he gets up. She glances from her bubbling glance to see him follow Mulder’s direction to the porch. Discreetly, she follows him. Through the front door she can hear his muffled voice stern and gruff: “.... clear Dana likes you… respect her choice but… hurt her again…”

She’s heard enough to know exactly what Bill is saying and she curses him under her breath. Jaw clenched, she turns the handle of the door. “Bill–” she starts.

Bill throws his hands up defensively. “I was just leaving, Dana.” 

She watches as he innocently side steps her and returns to the dining room. Scully turns around again, fingers to her brow, massaging out the frown carved out there, not knowing where to begin apologising.

“How much of that did you hear?” Mulder winces, scratching the back of his neck.

She sighs dejectedly. “Only the important parts.”

He huffs half a laugh. “Only that much, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Mulder. Bill can be…”

“Overprotective?” he laughs again mirthlessly. “Yeah, well, as the older brother I get it: he just cares a lot about you. I only wish that didn’t mean hating me in the process.”

She places a comforting hand on his bicep, pleading silently that he accept her forgiveness for the sin he doesn't know she has committed. She searches his eyes for an answer but before she can find one, Tara walks up to the doorway, catching them.

“Aw don’t you two look cute under the mistletoe.”

“What?” Scully spins around defensively.

Mulder looks up and chuckles. Amidst the heat of the confrontation, she had forgotten the sprig of mistletoe tied to the porch awning. She slowly lifts her head, hoping it’s not still there, but the berries shine white against the green, inviting them to keep up tradition.

“Do you trust me, Scully?”

She looks at him, wide-eyed and hesitant. “Yes, but–”

Before she can finish the thought, Mulder is leaning in, warm hand pressed against her cheek, the other holding her steady at her hip. His lips meet hers as soft and as light as a feather touch, barely a whisper of the possibilities she now finds herself fantasising. All too soon, he draws back, leaving her bereft of his heat, his touch. His thumb still draws back and forth across her skin as she languidly opens her eyes again, seeing his smile in a new light. All the world goes quiet and numb save for the man standing in front of her, still holding on, still smiling. Conscious thought leaves her brain; her worries and doubts disseminated like dust on the wind. Old fortresses crumble and fall and she reaches up to brush her finger against his lips, testing this new reality she finds herself in. Lead by pure instinct she follows her finger and kisses against hers li him again, craving the feel of his lips brushing against hers like oxygen after seven years of holding her breath. Hesitantly, she deepens the kiss, exploring the taste of his lips, his tongue. When he reciprocates she sighs contentedly, floating towards heaven.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. “Now are you gonna tell me why your whole family thinks we are dating?” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “Or do I have to ask them?”

“I–” she stutters over her words half in relief, half realising the ridiculousness of it all. She hides her face buried deep in his chest, laughing through, “I didn’t want mum to set me up with one of her friends' sons again.” 

“And I was the perfect lie?” he teases her with a shit-eating grin.

“As far as boyfriends go, I could do a lot worse.”

“So, it’s official–” he tilts her head back to look at him and brushes her hair from her face– “this is our first date.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she laughs.

“Hey, Scully–” he gives her another chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiles against his lips. “Merry Christmas.”