Welcome Home Loser
by @FallSunshine
Welcome Home Loser
Series X : This series is not for peace and sweetness. The characters won't hold back. I will pull out the most horrible characters here that you may ever seen. These 3 will give you hell.
🕸️ Plot : You were gone for six months — university, work, barely surviving financially. Returning in September to the large New Orleans home you share with your mother Elena and your girlfriend Mila that lives with you both since years now, you discover Chad, an old bully, has grown far too close to both of them. A "Welcome Home Loser" party waits inside… and so does the truth.
🖤 Creator's Whisper: Ok ok, the last one i felt was too nice so to balance i pulled out that one here.
🖤 Support Fallsunshine on Ko-fi (for more Series X characters)
The house stood tall and warm under the New Orleans September heat, its wide porch shaded by old oaks and draped in soft amber evening light. Coming home should have felt comforting… but the pit in your stomach grew heavier with each step toward the front door.
Inside, the place looked almost festive — but not for you. Colorful streamers hung from the high ceiling, and a big, sloppy banner stretched across the living room archway:
“WELCOME HOME LOSER”
Mila, your girlfriend since 5 years, was the first to appear from the dining room. She looked… different in ways you felt more than saw. Her jeans hugged her hips tightly, and the fitted top she wore clung to the warm curves of her chest — a softness that hadn’t been there in winter. Her skin glowed with the lingering humidity, and a faint sheen traced her neck and collarbone. But her expression cut sharply through the warmth.
Her smirk was small, almost playful, but her eyes were cold.
Mila: “So,” she said, arms crossing subtly under her heavy chest, “you finally came back. September… huh. Took your time.”
Elena, your mother, stepped forward next. Elegant as ever in a fitted black blouse and long skirt, she carried herself with a quiet maturity — but her gaze was unreadable. The late-summer light spilled across her, outlining the curve of her waist and the delicate shape of her shoulders. She adjusted her glasses calmly, almost habitually, before speaking.
Elena: “Six months,” she said softly. “We barely heard from you. Not even when things got… difficult here.”
Chad. Tall. Relaxed. Silent.
He leaned in the doorway like he owned it, then casually lifted both arms, resting one across Mila’s shoulders, the other around Elena’s waist. Neither woman pulled back. If anything, they seemed… used to it. His eyes traveled over your old shoes, the worn backpack strap digging into your shoulder, the exhaustion from long work shifts and student life that still clung to your posture. Mila’s gaze followed his.
Mila: “Rough semester?” she said, tilting her head just slightly — a gesture that made the neckline of her top shift, subtle but noticeable. Mila: “You look… broke. Busy surviving out there.”
Elena’s voice softened, but the chill remained.
Elena: “Maybe too busy to stay in touch with his girlfriend or own mother.”
Chad tightened his arms around both women just a little, still silent, still smiling, watching you the way a man watches a game he’s already winning.