#not starting them again at the beginning of March was not

[alabasterpickles]

Hey, everybody!!

Tomorrow is the big day — I do, in fact, have a post prepared to share with chapter one, as promised!

I am SO excited (and extremely nervous too!) to share this story with all of you!

I have received so much love and so many kind responses to the work I’ve shared over the last couple of years, and now it is finally time to start posting all of the content I have cooked up for this AU.

That said, I did, unfortunately, miss my window to procure an Ao3 account. As of right now, I won’t be able to share any writing there until March. So, I will be sharing chapter one of “A Matter of Life and Death” here on my writing account (@enthuzimuzzyme) tomorrow instead.

Once I get everything sorted out with my Ao3 account, I will post all subsequent chapters there!

If anyone has any recommendations for alternative fanfic sites, I would be glad to hear them! I haven’t publicly shared writing in years, any help would be much appreciated.

Please feel free to drop an ask in my askbox and I will make new arrangements!

One more thing before I wrap up this post, I will be starting school again at the beginning of March, so I will only be posting chapters once a month until further notice — however! My plan is to have some filler visuals/short comics to go with them, so there should be two updates monthly.

Anyway…

Y’all are the best!!

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

6WITCH: Jey x Rhea x Damian

Chapter 3: The Agreement

The moment Jey, Rhea, and Damian stepped into the secluded cabin in Aspen, a blast of icy mountain air swept through the doorway, making Jey shiver involuntarily. The snow outside was pristine, untouched, and the distant peaks were already bathed in the deep blues and purples of an approaching evening. The smell of pine and fresh air filled his lungs, but all he could focus on was the fact that he was cold as hell.

Pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, he grumbled as he stomped inside, making a direct beeline to the thermostat on the wall. Without hesitation, he cranked it up a few notches, rubbing his hands together as he felt the warm air begin to circulate.

Behind him, Damian chuckled, shaking his head as he set down their bags.

“That’s why you always pack more than just a hoodie, man. You knew we were going to Denver, and you didn’t think to pack something warmer?”

Rhea smirked, unzipping her jacket and tossing it over one of the armchairs.

“Exactly,” she added, nudging Jey’s shoulder playfully. “You should’ve been ready for anything, babe.”

Jey rolled his eyes, pouting slightly as he turned to face them.

“What I didn’t know,” he huffed, “was that I was suddenly starting a throuple with you two, and that instead of handling this like normal people, y’all decided to whisk me away to a damn cabin in Aspen.”

Damian leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, grinning.

“And you complaining?”

Jey sighed dramatically, rubbing his arms again.

“I’m just cold,” he muttered.

Rhea, amused, stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, her body pressing against him like a warm blanket.

“Poor baby,” she teased, resting her chin on his shoulder. “We’ll warm you up.”

Damian smirked, kicking off his boots.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me get a fire going, princess.”

Jey shot him a glare, but Rhea just laughed, tightening her hold on him.

“You adore us,” she murmured into his ear, her voice low and playful.

Jey huffed again, but the corners of his lips twitched like he was fighting a small smile. She broke the embrace and patted his face softly before walking to the kitchen.

Jey, however began rubbing his arms in an attempt to shake the lingering chill. “Where’s my room?” he asked.

“Down the hall,” Rhea called after him, a smirk playing on her lips.

Jey walked down the short corridor, stopping in front of two closed doors. He opened the first one, only to find a bathroom.

Okay… cool.

Moving to the second door, he swung it open, expecting to see a cozy guest room—maybe a queen bed, some rustic decor, a nightstand. Instead, he was greeted with a California king bed, perfectly centered in the only bedroom.

Jey blinked.

He stepped inside, looking around. No second bed. No pull-out couch. Nothing.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before turning on his heel and marching back to the living room.

“Damian!” Jey shouted, his voice carrying through the cabin.

Damian, who had just finished stacking some firewood, turned around with an innocent expression. “Yes?”

Jey folded his arms, glaring. “Where’s my room?”

Damian smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Rhea, who was biting back a grin.

“That was your room.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. “There’s only one bed.”

Damian’s smirk widened. “Yup.” His thoughts becoming filled with ideas… naughty ideas.

Jey threw his hands up. “And?”

Rhea finally stepped in, tilting her head as she studied him with amusement. “And… we all share.”

Jey narrowed his eyes. “Oh, hell no.”

Damian shrugged, walking past him towards the kitchen and patting his shoulder. “It’s a California King bed. There’s plenty of space.”

“That’s not the point, man,” Jey groaned. “Y’all didn’t think to tell me this?”

Rhea laughed softly, stepping up to him. “Would you have come if we did?”

Jey opened his mouth to argue but stopped, realizing she had a point. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Y’all are insane.”

Damian chuckled, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “You’ll survive, princess.”

Jey shot him a glare. “Call me that again, and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Rhea rolled her eyes and made her way to the couch, she adjusted so her legs could stretch out, becoming comfortably nestled against Damian, who had an arm casually draped across the back of the couch. The warmth of the cabin surrounded them, but there was an electricity in the air, filled with anticipation. “I need a drink..” Jey said as he made his way to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of some red wine.

“Pour me a glass, Jey. Would you please?” Rhea asked sweetly, the request laced with an edge of amusement.

Jey mumbled under his breath, his voice barely audible. “I need the whole bottle.” He didn’t know if he was being serious, or if it was just the tension between them that made him say it.

Rhea, catching his tone, laughed softly and leaned in to whisper to Damian, who was sitting beside her, his eyes glinting with mischievous amusement. “Is that how you’re gonna win Princess over? Alcohol poisoning?”

Damian chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who told me to pay the host extra to stock up the fridge.”

Jey returned to them with two glasses of wine in hand, handing one to Rhea with a small, resigned sigh. “Here,” he said, more out of obligation than enthusiasm.

Damian, never one to miss a beat, scooted over on the couch so Jey could sit between him and Rhea. The three of them now shared the same space, the air between them filled with unspoken things.

Jey, feeling the tension rise, broke the silence. “So, are we gonna talk about this?” he asked, his voice more serious than before. “What we are?”

Rhea smiled and raised the glass to her lips, swirling it as if savoring the moment. “Drink up first,” she said, her voice soft and playful, teasing him into silence.

Jey looked at her, not sure if he was about to get caught up in a game or if they were about to have the conversation he’d been avoiding. He took a sip of his wine, his mind spinning with thoughts of what this could all mean.

“Now finish the glass,” Damian’s voice was playful but firm, teasing yet demanding.

Rhea shot him a look, her expression shifting to a mock scolding. “Damian!”

Jey met her eyes, his jaw tightening slightly. He was already feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on him, and now Damian’s push to finish the glass felt like a challenge. He set his jaw and stared at both of them.

“Rhea, I’m a grown man,” Jey said with a faint edge to his voice. “I can handle one glass of wine.”

Before either of them could respond, Jey chugged the glass in one go, his throat burning slightly from the quickness of it. He set the empty glass down, not looking at either of them, but feeling their eyes on him.

Rhea’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, her lips parting as she looked at him, a mixture of admiration and intrigue in her gaze. “Well, I guess you can handle a little more than I thought,” she said softly, a teasing smile curling at the corner of her mouth, before downing her own glass and setting it next to Jey’s.

Damian, on the other hand, smirked and leaned back into the couch. “Guess we’ve got ourselves a real rebel, huh?”

Jey exhaled, feeling a bit lighter but still caught in the whirlwind of emotions and the heavy, unspoken tension between the three of them. “You’re both messing with me.”

Rhea leaned in closer to him, her voice dropping an octave as she whispered, “Maybe we are… but it’s more fun this way.”

“Let’s really talk about this. I’m serious,” Jey said, his voice firm, though there was a hint of nervousness in his tone.

Rhea sighed, looking at him for a moment before getting up. She walked over to the open bottle of wine and grabbed it, then returned to her place on the couch. Without a word, she took a generous sip from the bottle, her eyes never leaving Jey.

Damian watched them both, raising an eyebrow. “Okay… you wanna speak specifics so bad, go ahead, princess.”

Rhea shot him a quick look as she set the bottle down. “Damian…” she said with a warning in her voice as she glared at him. “Watch your tone.”

Damian simply chuckled, unfazed. “I’m just saying. He’s so quick to put a label on it. So, let’s speak.”

Rhea shot him another pointed look. “Papi, watch your tone,” she warned again, though her lips curled into a faint smile, as though she found his playful attitude endearing.

Damian leaned back, his hands behind his head. “Alright, alright. Let’s break it down for him then. What are we doing, exactly?” He looked at Jey. “We’re dating each other. And yes, it’s not just about one of us; it’s the three of us. You, me, and her. We’re… doing this together.”

Jey blinked at the words. “So, we are dating each other?” he repeated slowly, still trying to process the magnitude of it.

Damian didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Jey sat back, his mind racing. “So, does that mean me and you will go out? Like, go on dates?”

Damian laughed, leaning forward a bit. “Why does it sound like you’re more interested in figuring out what it is than just experiencing it, man?”

Jey didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just grabbed the bottle of wine from Rhea’s hand and took a long gulp. He needed something to distract himself from the flood of thoughts in his mind.

“I’m just saying,” Jey muttered as he set the bottle back down, “It’s publicly known that I married my high school sweetheart…”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, taking in his words. “What does that have to mean?” she asked, her tone sharp yet curious.

Jey looked over at Damian and then back at Rhea, his thoughts running through the implications of what he was saying. The sudden realization hit him hard: Rhea and Damian were the second and third people he’d ever slept with. The weight of that fact seemed heavier than he expected.

Damian took a swig of his beer, laughing. “I’m just saying. Only doing it with one person your whole life is different.”

Jey’s face flushed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly self-conscious about his experience—or lack thereof—compared to theirs. It was an awkward feeling, being exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

“Damian!” Rhea snapped, her voice sharp and warning, but it didn’t hide the amused smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. She shot him a glare, but Damian only grinned wider.

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Damian said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “But don’t worry, Jey. You’ll get used to it. All this… it’s different. But it’s not a bad thing.”

Jey didn’t respond right away, the room suddenly feeling a bit warmer as the laughter and teasing washed over him. He shifted again, realizing that the awkwardness wasn’t just about the situation—it was about how much he was still processing, how unfamiliar all of this felt.

Rhea, sensing the shift in his mood, reached over and placed her hand gently on his arm. Her touch was soft, grounding. “Jey,” she said, her voice a calm contrast to the teasing atmosphere around them, “I get it. But what we’re doing is different. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We’re not rushing this.”

Damian, noticing the subtle shift in the air, leaned back a little, his smile softening as he studied Jey. “Yeah, man. Just take it as it comes.”

Jey nodded slowly, his emotions still a whirlwind, but the calmness in Rhea’s voice helped settle the chaos in his mind just a little. “Yeah… okay.”

Damian raised his beer to Jey. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine, princess.”

“I hope I will,” Jey muttered, still trying to shake off the discomfort he felt. His mind was spinning with all the new dynamics, and his nerves were a constant hum beneath his skin.

Rhea didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she reached for the bottle Jey had been holding and took another long sip, savoring it as she leaned back on the couch. After a moment, she set it down and looked at him, her eyes softening. “Just relax, okay?” she said, her tone gentle but firm, as if trying to soothe the tension that still clung to him.

Jey sighed, his breath deep as he tried to let go of his doubts. But it was hard. So much had changed in such a short amount of time, and the weight of it pressed on him.

Rhea seemed to sense the internal struggle he was battling. Without warning, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips warm and soft against his. Jey’s mind briefly shut down at the sensation, his whole focus shifting to her. It was grounding, a welcome distraction.

But before he could fully process the kiss, Damian was there, his lips on Jey’s in the next instant. The kiss was quick, unexpected, and left Jey’s heart racing in a way that both unsettled and exhilarated him.

Damian pulled back slightly, his gaze never leaving Jey’s eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Do you feel relaxed now?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

Jey blinked, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. He slowly nodded, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he gave a shaky chuckle. “Yeah,” he said quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think I do.”

Jey felt the warm buzz of the wine making him a little lighter, the edges of his stress beginning to melt away. He stood up, the idea of the hot tub calling to him as a way to finally shake off the weight of the day. “Let’s try that hot tub,” he said, his voice more relaxed than it had been all evening. The warm water, nestled in the cold Aspen air, sounded like just what he needed to ease his mind.

Rhea’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and without skipping a beat, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go,” she said with an almost mischievous grin, her energy infectious. Her excitement was magnetic, and for a moment, Jey forgot all the questions swirling around in his head. This wasn’t about figuring anything out. It was about experiencing it all, right here and now.

Damian, still lounging on the couch with his beer, let out a mock groan, raising an eyebrow as they both moved toward the door. “I gotta change, you know,” he said, but there was a playful undertone to his voice, like he wasn’t entirely serious about it.

Rhea shot him a look over her shoulder, one that left no room for argument. “Just use what you’ve got on,” she replied, her voice firm but teasing, her grip tightening on Jey’s hand as she pulled him along. “We’re not wasting any time. I’m not waiting for you to change.”

Jey raised an eyebrow at her, the familiar fire in her eyes still captivating, as it always was. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly Rhea had turned their night upside down, and though he was slightly skeptical about Damian’s reluctance to just dive in, the thought of the hot tub warmed him in ways the wine hadn’t yet.

Damian raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, but I’m not gonna hear the end of this, am I?” he joked, standing up and following them toward the door. He let out a deep sigh, a playful grin never leaving his face. “I mean, I was planning to at least look presentable in a swimsuit.”

Rhea didn’t hesitate, clearly not caring about his reluctance. “You’re fine, Damian. The hot tub’s waiting, so let’s go.” She tugged them both through the door with determination, moving faster than either of them expected, her carefree energy pulling them into whatever adventure she had planned for the night.

Jey couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes but following along without protest. The night had been unexpected, and yet, in a strange way, it felt right. As they moved toward the back of the cabin, Jey glanced at Damian, who was laughing but also clearly warming up to the idea of joining them. There was something about the atmosphere tonight that made everything feel less complicated, like maybe they could just let go and enjoy the experience.

As they reached the back door leading to the hot tub, the cold mountain air hit Jey’s skin, and the contrast between the warmth inside and the chill outside was jarring. His breath misted in the air as he stepped out, feeling the cold bite his skin before the warm water promised to take it all away.

Damian was the first to step out into the night, his laugh filling the crisp air as he joined Rhea at the hot tub. “This better be worth it,” he joked, looking over at them with a grin. “I’m not doing all this just to freeze my ass off in some fancy mountain tub.”

Jey chuckled softly as he followed, the fresh mountain air filling his lungs as they approached the bubbling water. The light from the cabin shone dimly, and the stars above them seemed impossibly bright against the dark sky. The snow-covered trees in the distance framed the entire scene, adding a surreal, peaceful element to the whole experience. Everything felt oddly still, as though the world was holding its breath.

Rhea, already at the side of the tub, turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. Her hair was tousled slightly, and her presence was impossible to ignore. She grinned at Jey and then at Damian. “What’s the rush, boys?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully, her voice carrying that confident edge Jey found so magnetic. “We’re here now. Let’s make the most of it.”

Jey was barely paying attention to the words. His eyes were on her, the easy way she moved, the way her body seemed to flow from one moment to the next. For the first time that night, he wasn’t trying to overthink anything. He wasn’t worried about labels, or what this meant, or how complicated things could get. He just wanted to be here with her, and with Damian, experiencing whatever came next.

“Yeah, what’s the rush?” Damian echoed, his voice teasing but more relaxed now, too. He stepped closer to the hot tub, beginning to shed his jacket.

Jey stood a little further back, letting the other two get in first, still feeling a bit hesitant but eager all the same. Rhea was already settling into the hot water, her smile infectious. “Don’t tell me you’re not gonna join us now,” she teased, her gaze locking with Jey’s as he hesitated at the edge.

Jey grinned, the tension inside him finally beginning to unravel as he stepped closer. “Alright, alright. I’m coming,” he said, his voice carrying that playful edge now. He quickly stripped off his hoodie and joggers and tossed them aside before stepping into the hot tub, the heat of the water enveloping him almost instantly.

Damian followed soon after, his beer abandoned on the side as he sank into the tub with a contented sigh. The warm water felt like an oasis compared to the sharp chill of the night air, and Jey felt himself fully relax into the soothing warmth.

Rhea settled herself comfortably against the side, looking up at the stars for a moment before her eyes turned back to Jey and Damian. “This is nice, right?” she asked, her voice soft but full of meaning.

“Most definitely.” Jey agreed.

Damian’s eyes flicked to the remote next to the hot tub, noticing the stereo feature. He pressed the button with a smirk, and the stereo chimed, “Bluetooth ready.” A small laugh escaped him as he grabbed his phone from the discarded jeans.

Rhea leaned forward, eager to take control of the playlist. “Let me pick!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with excitement.

Jey, narrowing his eyes, smiled in warning. “Why do I feel like you’re gonna put it on something that is not my type?”

Damian’s grin widened as he leaned back against the edge of the tub. “Open your horizons, man,” he teased, sensing that Jey might not be prepared for what was coming.

Rhea, undeterred, scrolled through Damian’s versatile playlist. Her fingers paused before she tapped the screen, and the haunting strains of Marilyn Manson’s Sweet Dreams began to play, the eerie melody filling the air.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

Jey stared, his mouth slightly agape. “How can y’all listen to this music?” he asked, trying to make sense of the dark, brooding sound that seemed to permeate the hot tub’s steamy atmosphere.

Travel the world and the seven seas

Everybody's looking for something

Rhea let out a soft laugh, meeting Jey’s gaze. “It sets the mood,” she said with a knowing smile, her voice dropping with a hint of… seduction. She leaned back against the tub, fully immersed in the vibe of the song.

Some of them want to use you

Jey raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “How?”

Some of them want to get used by you

Without another word, Damian crossed over to him. His lips found Jey’s with slow intent, drawing the kiss out, the heat of it intensifying under the seductive rhythm of the music. It was soft, more sensual than expected, leaving Jey momentarily lost in the feeling of Damian’s touch.

Some of them want to abuse you

When the kiss broke, Damian pulled back with a satisfied grin. “Do you feel relaxed now?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement and something else—something deeper.

Some of them want to be abused

Jey, still processing the unexpected chemistry between them, let out a low breath. “Yeah,” he said, his tone somewhat surprised. “I do.”

Rhea, watching the exchange with a smirk, didn’t waste a moment. She crossed over to Damian and kissed him, her lips claiming his with an intensity that seemed to match the music’s dark undertone. It was like a dance, a rhythm they’d both had known long before this night.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Jey watched them both—his gaze lingering on the interaction between Rhea and Damian. The ‘Terror Twins,’ as they’d affectionately called themselves, moved as one. Every touch, every kiss between them felt electric, and for a moment, Jey found himself both caught in their world and on the outside of it, unsure of what exactly he was feeling.

Who am I to disagree?

When Rhea broke the kiss, she turned to Jey, her lips parting with the same smoldering intent she had shared with Damian. She leaned into him, her mouth finding his with the same intensity, her kiss matching the fire that had burned between them earlier. It was like she was pulling him in deeper, drawing him into a connection he hadn’t yet fully understood.

Jey, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding his senses, couldn’t find the words to speak. He didn’t know if he should be confused, overwhelmed, or grateful for the raw, unspoken bond between the three of them. Everything felt different now, and he was beginning to realize it wasn’t just the music making his heart race. It was them, all of them—together in this strange, tangled moment. The kiss broke as Rhea settled in once more, Jey couldn’t help but feel thankful—thankful Damian got the cabin.

The mountain air danced around them, contrasting the warmth that enveloped their bodies as they sank into the bubbling water once more. Damian, however had a growing problem he wanted to take care of. “Need a little help here..” Rhea, her own smirk deepening, moved closer to Damian once more, her body gliding effortlessly through the water. She pressed her lips to his, their kiss deep and passionate. But this kiss was different, this kiss was one of those kisses that lead into something else and as Jey watched, his own desire began stirring again.

Jey felt himself growing hard, his body responding to the erotic display unfolding before him. He moved towards the couple, positioning himself behind Rhea, his hands finding Rhea's body, cupping her breast. Rhea broke the kiss, throwing her head back onto Jey's shoulder, a moan escaping her lips as Damian's mouth found her neck, sucking viciously. Jey kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands deftly undid her bra. Rhea's bra floated away, discarded and forgotten as Jey broke the kiss, Rhea's mouth finding Damian's neck once more. She sucked and nipped at his skin, her hips grinding against him, the water lapping around them.

Suddenly, the deep bass of Cold by Static-X reverberated through the speakers, its industrial, dark vibe replacing the haunting tones of Marilyn Manson.

The heavy electronic beat made the water in the hot tub ripple, as if the song itself had physical weight.

The distorted vocals and grinding rhythm gave the atmosphere an even darker edge, a shift from sultry to cold, yet somehow still seductive.

Damian, who had pulled back slightly from Rhea’s neck, nodded in approval at the new track. "Now this is a vibe," he said, his voice almost lost beneath the intense, pounding beat.

We kiss the stars

We writhe, we are

Your name, desire

Your flesh, we are

Jey leaned in, his lips finding Damian's, their tongues dancing in a passionate duel. Damian's free hand found its way under the water, his fingers wrapping around Jey's hardness, stroking him. Jey's breath hitched, his body shuddering at the touch. Rhea, her eyes dark with desire, watched the two men, her hand slipping between her legs, her fingers finding her own wetness.

Cold, we're so cold

We are so

Cold, we're so cold

Damian broke the kiss, his eyes locking with Rhea's. He shifted towards her just a few centimeters more, his hand finding hers under the water, their fingers intertwining. He guided her hand to his own hardness, Rhea's fingers wrapping around him, stroking him in time with Jey's movements. The three of them moved in a rhythm, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the cool mountain air.

Your mouth, these words

Jey's hand found Rhea's breast once more, his fingers teasing her nipple, eliciting a gasp from her lips. Damian's mouth found hers again, their kiss… hungry. Jey's hand moved lower, finding the juncture of Rhea's thighs, his fingers slipping inside her. Rhea moaned into Damian's mouth, her body arching into Jey's touch.

Silence, it turns

Damian broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. He moved towards Jey, his hand finding Jey's hardness once more. He stroked him, his fingers teasing Jey's tip. Jey's breath hitched, his body shuddering at the touch.

Humming, we laugh

The three of them moved in a frenzy, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the cool mountain air. Rhea's body tensed, her orgasm building as Jey's fingers worked their magic. Damian's hand increased, his strokes quickening. Jey's body tensed, his orgasm building as Rhea's hand stroked Damian.

My head falls back

With a final gasp, Rhea's orgasm crashed over her, her body shuddering in Jey's arms. Damian's body tensed, his orgasm following close behind. Jey's body followed suit, his orgasm washing over him as he spilled into Damian's hand.

Cold, we're so cold

We are so

Cold, we're so cold

The three of them collapsed in the water, their bodies spent, their breaths mingling in the cool mountain air. They lay there, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating in unison.

One thing was certain: Vampire music—dark, seductive, and mysterious—set the mood just right.

—

The next morning, Jey woke up first. The soft sounds of snoring from both Damian and Rhea filled the bedroom, a strange but comforting symphony of the night they’d shared. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light filtering through the blinds, and then slowly pushed himself out of bed, careful not to disturb them.

He walked to his bag, pulling out a fresh set of clothes and heading to the bathroom. The hot shower helped wash off the remnants of last night’s passion—the lingering warmth of the hot tub, the bed, everything that had come after. As the steam filled the room, Jey let himself relax for a few moments, trying to clear his head. The water ran over his skin, soothing the aches and tensions, but still, the uncertainty from last night lingered.

Once he was dressed, he made his way to the kitchen. He brewed himself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the space, and it brought him a sense of calm he desperately needed. As he leaned against the counter, cradling the mug in his hands, a soft vibration interrupted his thoughts.

Jey glanced over to the dining table and noticed his phone, which he had left behind the night before. He picked it up and saw a barrage of new messages from his twin brother, Jon.

The first one from Jon was blunt as always.

Jon: Why didn’t you show up in Denver?

Jey sighed and took a sip of his coffee before typing a reply.

Jey: I’m with Rhea and Damian. I’m fine, bro.

Jon’s reply came almost immediately, a little more insistent.

Jon: Again?

Jey rolled his eyes, already feeling the pressure build.

Jey: So what?

Jon wasn’t letting up.

Jon: Jesus, you would think you three are a throuple or some weird ass shit.

Jey’s fingers hovered over the screen, and for a moment, he was tempted to send something snarky back. But something held him back. Instead, he typed out a calm response.

Jey: Yeah, that’s weird ass shit, but definitely not like that.

He put the phone down for a moment, letting out a deep breath. But then the next message from Jon came through, and it hit him in a different way.

Jon: Look, man… why don’t you come see me and Trinity? We wanna hang with you.

Jey stared at the message for a few long moments. His brother’s tone was casual, but Jey could hear the underlying concern. Jon didn’t fully understand everything going on in Jey’s life right now, and Jey wasn’t sure how to explain it to him. Things were complicated—more complicated than Jon could ever know.

Jey: I’m busy.

He pressed send, but the words tasted bitter as they left his fingertips. He was lying, but it was a lie he felt he had to tell. He wasn’t ready to explain everything—especially not to Jon. Not when he wasn’t even sure what was going on in his own head.

A few moments later, Jon’s reply came through again, more concerned now.

Jon: Alright. Just don’t shut us out, man. Trinity and I are here when you need us.

Jey felt a pang in his chest, his fingers tight around the phone. He wanted to tell Jon everything—that this wasn’t just about hanging out, that there was more going on in his life than he could even begin to explain. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

He set the phone down on the counter and stared out the window, the light streaming in from outside. It felt like the world was moving on without him, and he wasn’t sure where he fit anymore. Rhea, Damian, Jon, his family—everything was in flux, and Jey was struggling to keep his footing.

Jey’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft yawn that came from behind him. He turned to see Rhea, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, her hair messy from sleep. She stretched, her eyes still half-lidded as she walked over to the counter and brewed herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice laced with sleep but filled with something else—something Jey wasn’t sure how to read yet. She looked over at him, her gaze softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jey replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “Jon just texted me.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, turning her attention to him. “About what?”

Jey showed her the screen, scrolling through the messages. She took a quick glance, but what caught her eye wasn’t just Jon’s insistence on seeing him. It was Jey’s response—the words he’d typed so quickly, without much thought.

She sighed, a little too quietly for Jey’s liking. “Oh.”

Jey blinked. “Oh?”

Rhea shrugged, her eyes meeting his with a faint flicker of something—disappointment, maybe? “Throuples are weird ass shit?”

“I had to say that,” Jey muttered, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I wasn’t going to explain everything, Rhea.”

Rhea looked at him for a long moment before speaking again, her tone a little more measured. “Nah, you could’ve said something else. Something different.”

Jey’s stomach tightened. He knew what she meant, and he hated it. Something in her shifted, like a subtle wall was being built between them.

“Rhea, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice softer, trying to meet her halfway. He hated this feeling—the uncertainty creeping in, the distance he could feel growing in the air.

Rhea’s lips twisted into something like a forced smile. “I’m cool,” she replied flatly. She put her coffee mug down and walked back toward the bedroom without another word.

Jey sat there for a moment, feeling the sting of her indifference. He wanted to call after her, but instead, he just sat with the silence. Something wasn’t right. Was it the message? Or was it something deeper? He couldn’t figure it out.

A few moments later, Damian walked into the kitchen, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just woken up. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning Jey. “Hurt babygirl’s feelings on the first official day, huh?”

Jey rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

Damian chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ain’t in this one, bro.”

Jey shot him a glare. “How come you’re so nonchalant about this?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, eyes locking with Jey’s. “Because I know what I want,” he said simply. “I’m not going back and forth like you are.”

Jey let out a slow breath, his frustration bubbling. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Damian continued, his voice calm but firm, “you’re overthinking it. If you really knew what you wanted, you wouldn’t be stuck in this back-and-forth. You’d just go after it. No hesitation. No games.”

Jey stared at him, trying to process his words. Damian was always so damn sure of himself, so unwavering, while Jey felt like he was always caught in a storm of confusion. It made him feel small, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Maybe I’m not as sure as you are,” Jey muttered, looking away.

Damian chuckled darkly. “We all got our shit, Jey. But you gotta figure out what matters more: holding on to this confusion, or actually getting what you want.”

Before Jey could respond, Damian turned and walked toward the bedroom. Jey sat still, his mind a swirl of thoughts. What did he want? Was he ready to face whatever was waiting for him in the relationship with Rhea and Damian? Or was he just running away from something real?

The question echoed in his mind, unanswered, as the tension from the conversation with Rhea weighed heavily on him.

Jey finished his coffee and stared at his phone for a moment before sending a quick message to Jon: Wya?

The response came almost immediately, Jon’s address popping up on the screen. Jey typed back, Be there at 2.

He sat there for a second, looking at the messages, but then he stood up, feeling the weight of the silence around him. He knew Rhea was upset, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to bridge the gap.

He walked into the bedroom where Rhea and Damian were, Rhea’s eyes fixed on the TV, though her body language screamed that she was doing everything in her power to ignore him. Damian, as usual, was engrossed in his phone, his usual calm demeanor still in place.

Jey paused for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

“I’m gonna go to Denver for a bit to see my brother,” he said, the words sounding strangely final as they left his mouth.

Rhea didn’t look up. The silence in the room increased, and Jey could feel the weight of her indifference, like she was actively choosing to shut him out.

Damian glanced up briefly and gave a small nod. “Go for it. We’ll be here.”

Jey wanted to say something more, maybe push for a conversation, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Instead, he grabbed a clean hoodie from the pile of clothes on the chair, pulling it over his head as he made his way toward the door.

“Alright,” he said softly, though it felt like an apology that wasn’t being accepted. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Rhea didn’t respond. Damian didn’t either.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Jey felt a pang of disappointment in his chest as he walked toward the rental car. The drive to Denver was long, a four-hour trip that gave him time to think. But the longer he drove, the more he realized that he wasn’t sure what he was thinking about—whether it was the tension with Rhea, the awkwardness with Damian, or the constant tug in his chest that he couldn’t shake.

By the time he arrived in Denver, he was exhausted. He didn’t even want to think about what was waiting for him back at the cabin. Instead, he focused on the familiar feeling of being with Jon. When he pulled into Jon’s airbnb driveway, he sent a quick text: Here.

Jon’s response was almost immediate: Come inside, we got food.

Jey smiled slightly at the simplicity of it, thankful for something normal in the midst of what his life had became in the last 32 hours. He left the car and walked toward the front door, trying to shake off the lingering unease. As much as he needed to be here with Jon, a part of him still felt the gravity of what he’d left behind.

—

Back at the cabin, the silence was louder than any argument. Damian sat on the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling through his phone. He could feel the weight of Rhea’s presence even without looking at her.

She was in the kitchen, absentmindedly stirring her tea, though it had long since gone cold. Her jaw was tense, her thoughts elsewhere—on Jey, on his words, on the lingering sting of his dismissal.

Damian sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “You gonna be like this all day?”

Rhea didn’t look at him. “Like what?”

“Like you’re plotting how to throw Jey off a cliff.”

That made Rhea’s lip twitch, but the amusement was fleeting. “I’m not mad.”

Damian huffed. “Yeah, and I don’t have fangs.” He stood up, making his way to her, leaning against the counter. “You’re mad ‘cause you know Jey is fighting himself. And you hate that.”

Rhea exhaled sharply, setting her mug down with more force than necessary. “It’s not just that, Damian. He made it sound like—like what all of us share is some shameful, weird-ass thing.”

Damian studied her, then shrugged. “To him, maybe it is. Not ‘cause he actually thinks that, but because he’s scared. He’s never had anything like this before.”

Rhea crossed her arms, her frustration simmering just below the surface. “And what? I’m just supposed to wait until he figures it out? Until he decides what we are?”

Damian’s gaze softened. He reached out, fingers brushing over her wrist before linking his hand with hers. “No. You don’t wait. You live. And if he wants to be part of it, he’ll catch up.”

Rhea’s shoulders loosened slightly, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. She hated how easily Damian could break down her walls, how he always found a way to make sense of the mess in her head.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I just wish he’d stop running from it.”

Damian smirked. “He can only run so far before he realizes he’s running in circles.”

Rhea let out a breath, leaning against the counter. “You think he’ll come back?”

Damian squeezed her hand. “He always does.” Damian leaned in, his lips brushing against hers with an intentional slowness, his hands shifting to rest firmly on her waist. Unlike the stolen moments they had shared in the past—moments fueled by hunger, by convenience, by loneliness—this was different. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was steady. Measured. Like he wanted her to feel every second of it of the kiss.

And she did.

Truth be told, ever since Rhea’s divorce last year from her ex-husband and Damian’s messy breakup from a certain Kayden Carter, they had been fooling around. It started as something casual, two people who knew each other too well to play games, but also knew exactly what the other needed. At first, it was just a way to forget—to drown out the nights that felt too long, the beds that felt too cold. A drink after a show turned into her staying over at his hotel room. The next week, it was a backseat encounter in his rental car. Before long, it became routine: quickies in airport bathrooms, stolen moments in locker rooms, hurried encounters in backstage closets. It was reckless, but neither of them cared.

Then, somewhere along the way, it changed.

Damian had never seen her like that until one night, after a particularly brutal day, she had asked him to hold her. No snide remarks, no jokes—just hold her. He remembered the way she curled into him, her breath warm against his collarbone, her fingers gripping his shirt like she needed the contact more than she’d ever admit. That was the moment it all shifted. It wasn’t just about sex anymore. It was about comfort. Stability. Something neither of them had felt in a long time.

Suddenly, Rhea was spending more time in New York with him than she was at her own place in Orlando. The flights back home became less frequent. Damian never had to ask why. He already knew.

Now, standing in the dim glow of the kitchen, he could feel the hesitation in her body, the way she allowed herself to fall into him but held back at the same time. He deepened the kiss, hoping to pull her back in, but as soon as he felt her stiffen slightly, he knew.

She was thinking about him.

“Damian…” Her forehead rested against his as she exhaled, fingers still gripping his arms.

He smirked knowingly, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “Jey’s in your head.”

She swallowed, her jaw tightening. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m waiting for him to figure out what he wants. I don’t do waiting.”

“I understand you,” Damian said, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, filled with unspoken truths and lingering thoughts neither of them wanted to fully address.

Rhea’s voice was quieter when she finally spoke again. “And you?”

Damian’s lips curled into a small smirk, his thumb grazing her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that was the difference between him and Jey.

“Besides,” Damian continued, a teasing glint in his eyes, “I have something planned for you.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Before she could react, Damian suddenly grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder with ease. A surprised yelp left her lips before it melted into laughter, her fists playfully pounding against his back.

“Damian!” she shrieked, kicking her legs. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Her protests were ignored as he carried her effortlessly through the cabin, his deep chuckle vibrating against her body. “Nah, I think you like it up there.”

She was still laughing when he reached the bedroom, only for it to turn into a breathless squeal as he threw her onto the bed without warning. She bounced against the mattress, landing on her back, her black hair fanned out beneath her. Damian stood at the edge of the bed, towering over her with that smug, satisfied smirk of his.

Rhea propped herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re real proud of yourself, huh?”

Damian cocked his head, his smirk deepening. “A little bit.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips gave her away. She was enjoying this. Him. The playfulness, the familiarity, the way he always knew how to make her forget—if only for a little while.

He leaned down, hands bracing on either side of her body, caging her in. “Tell me something, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, irresistible tone that always sent a shiver down her spine. “You still thinking about him?”

Her breath caught for half a second, but she refused to let him see that. Instead, she smirked, reaching up to grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him even closer. “Maybe.”

Damian chuckled, his lips hovering just over hers. “Then I guess I’m just gonna have to fuck you until you’re sore..”

And with that, he kissed her.

—

Jey sat there, barely touching his food, as Jon and Trinity hovered around him with their well-meaning concern. The same cycle, the same routine.

“How are you?”

“How are the kids?”

“Have you seen them?”

And now, the latest addition to the script:

“Do you want to live with me and Trinity until you get your life sorted out?”

Jey exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew they were trying to help. He knew they were coming from a place of love. But it didn’t make it any easier to hear. If anything, it just made the weight in his chest sink deeper.

Get his life sorted out.

As if that was something he could do overnight. As if all he needed was a little structure, a little stability, and suddenly everything would make sense again.

What they didn’t get—what no one really got—was that Jey didn’t even know what “sorted out” looked like anymore. He had spent so much time clawing his way through the wreckage of his divorce, through the humiliation of watching his private life become public spectacle, through the endless whispers and side-eyes, that he wasn’t sure he had anything left to rebuild with.

He had begged her—begged her—not to take it public.

He had sat across from her at that last real conversation they had, looking her in the eyes, swallowing every ounce of pride he had left, and said:

“Please. We don’t have to do it like this.”

But she did.

The cryptic Instagram stories. The passive-aggressive tweets. The interviews where she played the victim while he was painted as the villain.

And the worst part? He had to take it.

Because fighting back only made him look worse. Because responding would just add more fuel to the fire. Because the second he said anything, it would be twisted into something else.

So he let it happen.

Let them tell whatever version of the story they wanted. Let the headlines call him a deadbeat. Let the internet debate whether he deserved to see his own kids.

He felt like a burden even in his own damn life.

I guess you could say that’s why he gravitated toward Damian and Rhea.

Because with them, there was no script. No expectation for him to fix everything. No pressure to justify himself or perform his grief in a way that made other people comfortable.

They let him just be.

Some days, he needed to vent, to let the anger spill out of him in sharp words and bitter laughter. Other days, he didn’t want to talk at all, and they let him have that silence without making it feel like an accusation.

That’s why it was so easy to disappear with them. To lose himself in late nights, alcohol-soaked conversations, and whatever the hell this thing was starting to brewbetween the three of them.

Because with Damian and Rhea, he wasn’t a failure.

He wasn’t a divorced man, or a shitty dad, or a disappointment.

He was just Je—…. Joshua.

And right now, that was the only version of himself he could bear to be.

Jey blinked, shaking himself out of his stupor. He hadn’t realized he’d spaced out so deeply until he heard Jon’s voice, sharp and clear, calling his full name.

“Joshua Samuel Fatu.”

Jey snapped to attention, his heart giving a small jump at the sound of his full name. He quickly muttered, “Sorry.”

Jon didn’t let it go. “Shall I repeat the question?”

Jey hesitated for a moment, his stomach tightening. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for whatever Jon was about to ask, but he didn’t want to be caught looking distracted again. “Yeah, go for it.”

Jon didn’t waste any time. “Are you and Rhea sleeping together?”

Jey’s breath caught in his throat. That question hit him harder than he expected, and he found himself stumbling over his thoughts, his mind racing. What kind of question was that? He realized in that instant, too, that Jon hadn’t asked about him and Damian—only about him and Rhea.

Damn it.

Jey tried to steady himself, clearing his throat. “Nah, man. She’s only 28. Too young, I’m a few months from 40.”

He could tell Jon didn’t buy it. The skeptical look on his brother’s face said everything. Jon didn’t press, though. He just nodded, but Jey could feel the tension lingering between them. It wasn’t the kind of tension Jon usually left unspoken.

The silence stretched on for a moment, but Jey knew time was running out. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, and it was already nearing five o’clock. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d be getting back to the cabin well after midnight.

Jey stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, signaling the end of their conversation. “Alright, man. I gotta head back. Four hours to get back to the cabin.”

Jon stood up, not missing a beat, and pulled him into a brief, tight hug. “Alright, be careful on the road. And… think about what I said.”

Jey gave a tight nod, but his mind was already drifting back to the cabin, to Rhea, and the gnawing feeling of unresolved tension. He didn’t even say goodbye to Trinity, who was quietly sitting in the corner, but he could feel her eyes on him as he walked out the door.

The Denver air hit him as he stepped outside, and for a moment, Jey paused, taking a deep breath, the weight of his conversation with Jon pressing against his chest. He didn’t like the way he felt after lying, but what else could he do? He wasn’t ready to face the truth, not with Jon, not with anyone.

Shaking it off, he climbed into his car and started the engine, the road ahead stretching out before him.

The drive was long and quiet, the sound of the engine the only company Jey had as he navigated the winding roads leading back to the cabin. The air had turned piercing with the evening, and as he neared the final stretch, a familiar sight caught his eye—a small general merchandise store, its flickering neon sign still glowing against the darkening sky.

Jey pulled into the lot, stepping out with a stretch before making his way inside. The place was nearly empty, the soft buzz of an overhead radio playing some old country song as he walked through the aisles. He grabbed the essentials—some groceries, a few more bottles of liquor, things to keep the night going.

Just as he was about to head to the register, something caught his eye. A bouquet of fresh roses, sitting slightly apart from the rest. Deep red, petals soft and full. He hesitated for only a second before reaching out and picking them up.

Jey didn’t analyze it—why he felt the need to buy them, why he was thinking about her as he did. He just paid for everything, tucked the bouquet gently under his arm, and headed back to the car.

By the time he reached the cabin, the sky had fully darkened, stars scattered above the treetops. He entered the Airbnb code and stepped inside, greeted by the warmth of the dimly lit living room. The house smelled faintly of wood and something floral, like the lingering scent of perfume.

Jey made his way to the kitchen first, setting the groceries down and placing the liquor bottles on the counter. He glanced at the roses in his hand and smirked to himself. Proud. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was too much, but still—it felt right.

Holding the bouquet, he started toward the bedroom.

Then, he heard it.

Soft, intimate sounds. Low moans. The distinct rustling of sheets, the kind that sent a familiar sensation curling in his gut.

Jey’s feet slowed. His grip on the roses tightened slightly as he reached for the door, pushing it open just a fraction.

Rhea was riding Damian’s face, her back arched slightly as Damian’s large hands held her by the hips.

His breath caught in his throat, his free hand flying up to cover his mouth before he could make a sound. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

“Make me cum please..”

Jey stood frozen in the doorway, the crushed bouquet hanging limply at his side. His chest felt tight, heat creeping up his neck as he tried to process what he’d just walked in on. His instincts screamed at him to turn around, to walk back out the door and leave this conversation for another time—or never. But before he could act, Rhea’s gaze snapped toward him, and she shifted, pulling the sheet around herself as she climbed off Damian.

“Jey honey…. Do you feel jealous?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

Jey swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he let out a breath through his nose. “A little.”

“That’s not our intention,” Rhea assured him, stepping closer, her bare feet padding against the wooden floor.

Damian leaned up on his elbows, nodding. “Come here, man. Let’s talk about this.”

Jey hesitated before stepping forward, his movements slow, deliberate. He sank onto the bed between them, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. He still held the roses, though now they were slightly crushed from his grip.

Rhea reached for them, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you for the roses, baby,” she murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

Jey exhaled, tension unraveling just a fraction at her touch, but the weight in his chest remained. His mind was racing, emotions tangled in a way that didn’t quite make sense to him.

Damian watched him carefully. “Jey, don’t feel jealous,” he said, his voice low and calm. “Me and Rhea… we were intimate long before you joined us after WrestleMania.”

Jey tensed at that, fingers flexing against his thigh. “Then why do I feel jealous?” he admitted, voice filled with concern.

Rhea shifted beside him. “It’s because I’m a girl,” she said simply.

Jey’s head snapped toward her, brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”

Damian leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “It means you’re not looking at this as a throuple,” he explained. “You’re looking at it like me and you are two separate people… and Rhea’s in the middle.”

Jey frowned, letting the words sink in. He’d never really thought about it like that before, but now that it was laid out in front of him, it struck a nerve. He wasn’t just jealous—he was territorial.

And that? That was a problem.

Jey ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply as he tried to process everything. “Is it bad to be territorial?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration and uncertainty.

Damian shook his head. “Nah, it’s not bad,” he admitted. “It’s natural. But if we’re gonna make this work, you gotta learn to share.”

Jey scoffed, still struggling to wrap his head around it. His gaze flickered to Rhea. “Are you jealous?”

Rhea smirked. “No.”

Jey’s eyes narrowed. “Really?! So if I were to kiss Damian right now, you wouldn’t get mad?”

Rhea laughed, tilting her head in amusement. “Nope.”

Jey let out a short, disbelieving chuckle before suddenly grabbing the back of Damian’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It was quick but firm, catching Damian completely off guard. When Jey pulled back, he immediately turned to Rhea, searching for any flicker of jealousy or anger.

“Come on?! No ‘you asshole!’ or ‘how could you?!’” he demanded.

Rhea simply smiled. “Nope.”

Before Jey could respond, Rhea reached over and kissed Damian herself, slow and intentional. When she finally pulled back, she turned to Jey with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Are you jealous?”

Jey’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His eyes flickered downward, staring at his hands as his fingers flexed in his lap.

Rhea softened, shifting closer. “Oh, Jey…” she murmured, voice gentle. “Baby.”

Damian watched him carefully, his usual cocky demeanor fading into something more serious. Jey wasn’t just playing—he was struggling.

Rhea exhaled and reached over to her purse that was on the nightstand, rummaging through it before pulling out a small leather journal and a pen. She flipped to a blank page and handed both items to Jey.

“Here,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Write down what you want out of this. Out of us.”

Jey glanced between the journal and Rhea. “What?”

Rhea shrugged. “A list. Things you want, things you don’t want. Expectations, boundaries—whatever’s on your mind.” She held his gaze. “And yes, it’s a throuple.”

Jey hesitated before taking the journal, his fingers tracing the edges. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but for the first time, instead of running from them, he had a chance to define them.

Rhea leaned against his side, her hand warm on his thigh. “We’re not rushing you. Just be honest.”

Jey exhaled slowly, looking at the journal. Maybe this wasn’t as impossible as he thought. Maybe, just maybe… he could figure this out.

—

AN HOUR LATER

Damian leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he watched Jey, who sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, the journal resting on his lap. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, pen tapping against the page as he hesitated before writing something down. Every so often, he would sigh, scratch something out, and start again.

Rhea moved fluidly through the kitchen, the scent of garlic and butter filling the air as she sautéed vegetables in a pan. She had kept the late night meal that Damian requested simple—steaks, vegetables, and rice—something hearty but easy. She glanced over at Damian, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Jey.

“You’re staring,” she remarked with a smirk, flipping the steaks in the other pan.

Damian took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “I’m watching.”

Rhea hummed, stirring the vegetables. “He’ll figure it out.”

Damian set his glass down and folded his arms. “You think so?”

Rhea glanced over at Jey, who had just exhaled another long breath, rubbing a hand down his face before putting the pen to the paper again. “Yeah,” she said confidently. “He’s just never had to think about this kind of thing before. It’s new to him.”

Damian nodded, watching the way Jey’s shoulders tensed, the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek like he was deep in battle with himself. “And if he backs out?”

Rhea shrugged, plating the vegetables. “Then we deal with it.”

Damian let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You really believe that, huh?”

Rhea turned to face him, giving him a knowing look. “You underestimate him,” she said simply.

Damian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced back at Jey, who had finally stopped writing and was now staring into the fire, the flickering glow casting sharp shadows across his face.

“He’s overthinking it,” Damian muttered.

Rhea smirked, turning back to her cooking. “Of course he is. That’s what he does.”

Damian took another sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving Jey. He wasn’t sure what was going on in Jey’s head, but one thing was certain—whatever he was writing, whatever he was deciding—it was going to change everything.

Rhea carefully plated the steaks, vegetables, and rice, the simple meal carrying a sense of warmth and comfort after the heavy conversation they’d just shared. The faint sizzle of the vegetables cooking in the pan filled the space around them, adding to the gentle, inviting atmosphere of the cabin. Once everything was ready, Rhea called out to Jey, her voice soft yet warm.

“Dinner’s ready, Jey,” she said, glancing up from her work.

Jey’s eyes flickered away from the journal, the weight of his thoughts still sitting heavy in his chest. He had written everything down—his concerns, his desires, his fears—but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to share it all. Not in front of them. Not like this. But the rumble in his stomach reminded him that it had been hours since he’d eaten, so he forced himself to stand up, his body stiff from sitting too long.

With a quiet sigh, he walked over to the kitchen and sat down at the table, glancing at the two plates already set before him. The smell of the food felt comforting, grounding him as he took his seat, but the tension in the room remained.

They ate in silence for a few moments, Jey focusing on the food in front of him, trying not to think too much about everything that had just been said. It was like the words he had written in the journal weighed a ton, each one pressing down on his chest. His thoughts swirled around—jealousy, fear, vulnerability—but he couldn’t hide from it anymore. He had to say it.

Once the plates were cleared, Jey finally broke the silence, his voice softer than usual, almost fragile.

“I wrote it down,” he said quietly, glancing up at Rhea, then Damian.

Rhea, still in the process of clearing the table, paused and turned her attention to him. Damian didn’t say anything, but his eyes were already locked on Jey, waiting for him to speak. There was no pressure, no judgment in their gazes, just an openness that felt like an invitation.

Jey stood up, trying to calm the swirling emotions inside of him. He grabbed the journal from the living room and returned to the kitchen, his hands shaking slightly as he opened it to the page where he had left off. The room felt smaller now, the words he had written earlier suddenly feeling more real, more important. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he started to read.

“I… I have a lot of concerns,” he began. He cleared his throat, unsure if he was even ready to say the words aloud. But there was no turning back now. “I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you both, of this falling apart. I’m scared that I’ll be… not enough. Or worse, that I’ll get left behind. And I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing—sharing, letting go. I’m used to keeping people close to me, to protecting what’s mine, but I don’t know how to do that here. Not without… well, feeling like I’m failing.”

Jey paused for a moment, looking down at the journal in his hands, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt a pang of embarrassment, his vulnerability crashing over him like a wave. He could feel his palms sweating, his breath quickening. He wasn’t sure if he could keep going, but he pushed himself to do it anyway.

“I want to be honest with you both. I don’t want to hide anymore, but I’m scared of what that means,” he continued, his voice faltering. “I want to trust you. I want to believe that we can work through this, that I won’t be replaced, but I can’t help but feel… like I’m not enough. That I’m just a part of the equation, and nothing more.”

He took a shaky breath, his mind racing as he glanced up at Rhea and Damian. They were silent, watching him with understanding, their faces soft and patient, but Jey could still feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“I also want to explore,” Jey added, his voice more hesitant now. “I don’t know why, but I feel this pull—this need to know what it’s like to be more than just your partners. To be something else. And I guess… it scares me. But I need to say it. I need to be honest with both of you.”

The room seemed to freeze around them for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. He felt exposed, like his deepest fears and insecurities were laid bare in front of them. He was trembling now, his hands clutching the journal tightly, afraid of what they might say next.

Rhea stood up from her seat and walked over to him, her eyes gentle, but her expression unreadable. She reached for his hand, her touch grounding him.

“You don’t have to hide anything from us, Jey,” she said softly, her voice soothing, like a balm to his raw nerves. “We’re here for you. Always. And we’re not going anywhere.”

Damian joined her, standing beside Jey and resting a hand on his shoulder. His touch was firm, reassuring, but it didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like support, like they were both right there with him.

“You’re not alone in this,” Damian added, his voice calm but steady.

Jey felt his throat tighten, the emotion too much to bear. For so long, he had been afraid to let anyone see his vulnerabilities. Afraid to admit that he didn’t have everything under control. But here, with them both standing beside him, he felt a sense of relief. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy—but it was enough for now.

Jey swallowed hard, wiping away a stray tear that had slipped down his cheek without his permission.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Thank you both… for not running away.”

Damian smiled softly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “We’re not going anywhere, Jey.”

Rhea pulled him into a tight hug, her arms wrapped around him like she was holding him together. “You’re safe here. You always will be.”

Author’s Note: I’m still struggling with threesome sex scenes so bare with me here. 😬

[sunsetzer]

Fellow seasonal allergy havers how we doin

[kendev]

first post..

[intersexghoul]

Sorry I gotta rant in the tags like a maniac because we have nobody to talk to about this without risking our closest friendship. Nobody is required to read and honestly I'd encourage ignoring it

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

[yyuangss]

GIRL TALK ! ( STAR RAIL MEN )

SUMMARY ! march 7th finds out you like someone. and as your best friend, it’s only right that she has to give her input on whether or not she approves of him.

NOTES ! i was in the mood to write something but this was last minute and this was all i could come up with 🤺 may do a part two featuring other star rail men but we will see. part two of girl talk (gepard, dr. ratio, aventurine, and boothill)

TAGS ! reader is not the trailblazer. contains dan heng, caelus, sampo koski, jing yuan, and argenti. feelings are mutual on both ends.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . DAN HENG !

immediately tells you that she already had her suspicions. and now that you confirmed it, it makes her all that more excited. you having a crush on dan heng is just what she expected. she’ll go on and on about how you two would make a great couple because he opens up more to you. now she gets a little sneaky and begins to make up excuses whenever missions come around so that the two of you can go together. it’s her own way of being a mastermind. the more time you two spend together, the closer she is to seeing you and dan heng start dating. yes, march has dubbed herself as your personal wingwoman. so is the duty of being your best friend.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . CAELUS !

of course she finds it cute that you have a crush on caelus. and it all makes sense to her now. she constantly hears you and caelus making the same kind of jokes, watches you two play games together on your phones, and on rare occasions, she’ll find you rummaging through trash cans with caelus. though she doesn’t know why you’d go to such lengths and go through the trash cans with him. admitting your feelings for the newest trailblazer will only make march relentlessly tease you about it in the best way possible. so whenever caelus invites you to join him in whatever shenanigan he has planned for the day, she’ll send a quick wink your way.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . SAMPO KOSKI !

she’s mentally judging you. definitely finds this as a “to each their own” type of situation. out of everyone you guys have met, the one you have feelings for is sampo. march isn’t too fond of him despite how much he has helped them during their time in belobog. she does have a few doubts here and there, but if he’s currently the one who you’re interested in, she’ll go along with it. march has to observe the way he acts before making any big decisions like setting you two up. she can tell the feeling’s mutual by the overly flirtatious comments sent your way or gifts you receive by sampo when visiting belobog again. she’ll sometimes peek over your shoulder and see some messages coming in from him, asking when you’ll come back to see him. she could grow used to him so let her work her magic and you’ll be with him in no time.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . JING YUAN !

the general of the luofu is a tough decision. although she believes he’s a great choice considering his high rank and popularity, it’s also a bit of a downfall. she saw some heavy chemistry between you both back when the express was currently at the luofu. she didn’t have enough time to make some comments but she knew you’d end up having some sort of feelings towards him. she’s only worried about the cons that could come. like the fact jing yuan can become a busy man within seconds. would he make enough time for you? no, he needs to because someone like you deserves it. march refuses to let her best friend settle for anything less than what she’s worth. march can trust that you’ll be in good hands with jing yuan.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . ARGENTI !

it’s a very interesting choice in her opinion. though she understands why you’d end up gaining feelings towards him. it had to be that compliment he gave you the very first time the express met him. “a beauty that was sent by the goddess idrila herself for him to praise”. very poetical that it had the entire crew speechless for a few seconds. march hasn’t stopped bringing it up since that happened because you had never gotten that flustered before. she can only imagine all the other compliments argenti has sent your way when they’re not around. whenever you’re smiling at your phone a little too hard, thinking no one is watching, she’ll head over your way asking if your boyfriend’s the one making you all smiley. march doesn’t even need to be your wingwoman for this one. she knows the knight will handle it all on his own.

[demi-god77]

BYLER GATES: A GUIDE

(A masterpost explaining all the different theories, for anyone who is also lost with how many there are)

THE BIG 4

Flickergate: This theory involves a lot of time shenanigans and is connected to the Will having powers in s5 one (possibly manipulation of time or electricity). Theory claims Will and Mike will kiss in the UD, specifically outside Mike's garage, paralleling 1x01. Will is going to tell the truth at the same time his s1 self is ("it was a seven"), causing the garage light to flicker on Nov. 6th 1983.

Birthdaygate: This theory suggests that the Duffers didn't actually forget Will's birthday is March 22nd (the day of the rink-o-mania incident). It claims that Vecna is actually manipulating the characters' memories (possibly even Will's), making them forget his birthday in the process, maybe in an attempt to make him feel excluded/lonely and making him vulnerable. (Similar to the beginning of Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets, which happened to be on the inspo board for S4)

But also the Creel murders themselves happened on March 22nd.

Churchgate: More UD kiss related theories! This one claims Will is going to get Vecna'd or possessed in the Upside Down church (and that he's going to hurt/choke Mike in the process). With a crazy amount of religious symbolism, Mike would be the one breaking him out of his trance, through a kiss or a confession.

(More thorough explanation here.)

Lettergate: This gate's truthers believe that Mike did actually write to Will in the time period between s3 and s4, but never sent the letters. Said letters (signed "Love, Mike") are going to make an appearance in s5, revealing his true feelings. (Great post that has to do with this gate here)

Also related to:

OTHER GATES

Pocketgate: Very connected to Lettergate™️, this theory has to do with Mike's infamous triangle shaped pocket in S4. It suggests that the letter signed Love, Mike is hidden in said pocket throughout s4, since it very closely resembles an envelope. Triangles have also been used in ST as a queer symbol (with Robin) and Mike's pocket consistently points to Will like an arrow.

Phonegate: Kinda similar to the previous two, this gate claims Mike did actually call the Byers in Lenora. For some reason, the calls didn't go through, either because of Joyce's telemarketer job OR because of Vecna manipulating things again (cough, birthdaygate, cough).

This is backed up by one of Dustin's lines, saying that the Byers' phone line is always busy and Mike won't stop complaining about it. We know he must have been calling WILL, since the whole reason he was communicating with El using letters is that they couldn't talk on the phone.

Loverslakegate: Related to Lovers' lake (obviously). The lake is shaped like a heart, tying into its name, but it was split in two after the gates opened, now resembling a broken one (and Mike is ofc referred to as "the heart" so it could be a reference to him).

According to this theory, Mike and Will are going to kiss/become lovers near said lake/Reefer Rick's house.

Heartgate: To put it simply: Heart reflections EVERYWHERE. This one is better explained through pictures:

Also: Different heartgate but really interesting

Colorgate: I don't think I have to explain this one tbh but anyway

Blue meets yellow in the west.

Mike and Will have been HEAVILY associated with blue and yellow respectively since the beginning of the show (even wearing eachother's colours in both of their arguments). There's an insane amount of evidence that backs this one up.

It's speculated that the Russian code in s3 was foreshadowing for s4 ("The silver cat feeds when Blue meets Yellow in the west") Silver cat: Vecna who started killing when Mike (Blue) met Will (Yellow) in the west (California, literally west of Indiana)

Curtaingate: "They don't spent their lives trying to get a look at what's behind the curtain [...] They like the curtain. It provides them comfort, stability, definition" -Murray 2x05

Mike and El are pretty consistently framed in front of CLOSED (and more often than not, yellow) curtains, or ones that have closed blinds. According to this theory, closed curtains represent not being honest with one's true feeling. So, the truth about Mike's feelings is beyond the curtain and in s5 he will open it (and come out)

Motelgate: This one has to do with the dreaded two day time skip at the end of S4. Theory claims the Cali crew stayed at a motel during that time skip and the scenes were cut for time, but we'll flash back to them in s5. It's based on a photo a production assistant posted from the New Mexico filming, as well as some bts pics of the Cali Crew playing board games in a motel.

Shoegate: In S4, we see a pair of Will's shoes in his bedroom. In s5, Mike seems to be wearing that exact pair. This, in addition to the fact that they wear the same shoe size (a 10 according to their rollerskates from 4x02), lead people to theorize they will share clothes/shoes in s5. More importantly though, this theory suggests Mike is figuratively being put into Will's shoes (maybe pining?). Also, both of them wear the same shoes they wore in s2. Interestingly enough though, even though the design is the same, the colors are reversed (so their roles will be reversed too).

Possessiongate: This one runs DEEP so I'm going to link a bunch of posts

To put it VERY simply: this theory claims Vecna somehow attached himself to Mike (maybe when the vine grabbed him by the leg in the S2 tunnels- right before he started acting weird in s3 and s4) and he has been influenced/possessed for some time now.

He's not the dungeon master anymore, he's not in control. Both in s3 and s4 someone ELSE is the DM when they play D&D (Will and Eddie respectively)

More here and here

Victimgate: Very closely related to the previous one, this one suggests that MIKE was originally supposed to be Vecna's 4th victim instead of Patrick. Since Max escaped the first time, SHE ended up being the last victim but the original plan was for it to be Patrick. However, Patrick's curse doesn't fit the theme of all of the previous ones. We only see one of his visions, he gets cursed for ONE DAY, as opposed to the other 3 that are cursed for almost a week and we also know very little about him, even though we gradually knew more about the previous victims. Chrissy (no relation to main characters) -> Fred (friends w/ Nancy) -> Max (main character who we've known since s2)

More thorough explanation here

Twelvegate: This one is not really Byler related but i wanted to include it anyway

Theory claims Will was one of the lab kids (specifically 012) and him and El are actual twins. There are mentions of Will and El looking similar since s1, and a lot of twin imagery.

This theory obviously ties in with the Will having powers one and some people believe he wasn't 012, but him and El have a deeper connection/may be actually related. It could theoretically explain Henry's connection to Will, as well as things like El seemingly recognizing him in s1.(Alternatively called rainbowshipgate, because of the rainbow ship drawing Joyce mentions in s2 and the rainbow room)

Eightfifteengate: Again, not explicitly Byler but it's quite crazy.

TL;DR: The time 8:15 seems to have great significance in the show and it's mentioned all the time, if not by the characters themselves, (Eg. "It's 8:15, you're late"- El s2) then by small details in the background. There's even a whole track named after it.

Will left the Wheelers' house at 8:15 and it's the EXACT timestamp of his disappearance in 1x01. It's also the time in which most of the UD related weirdness happens and so it's very likely the UD is stuck on 8:15. (Also you know, 15-8=7)

Radiationgate: Related to the previous one! Clocks in Chernobyl are stuck on 8:15 and Hiroshima has been described figuratively as being frozen in time. Henry has burns identical to Chernobyl victims and almost all of his + his victims' symptoms can be explained through radiation exposure. As this post explains, for radiation levels between 8.3-11 Gy (SI unit for absorbed radiation), symptoms start with headaches and disorientation, move on to unconsciousness and bleeding (the exact symptoms of his victims) and finally, death happens at around 7 days (which is about how long Vecna's curse lasts AND how long Will was in the UD for)

Whiterabbitgate: The song "White Rabbit" is the first song in the show and it plays when we first get a sense of El's powers. Theory suggests it will also be the last song in the show (coming full circle) with either Will using his powers, or Willel using their powers together.

In general though, ST has a lot of similarities/parallels to Alice in Wonderland. The white rabbit constantly being late (Mike is late to something at the start of every season), great significance to clocks/ticking/time, a lot of hallucinations/visions, the overall similarities between the Upside Down and Wonderland. Henry's sister was literally named Alice Creel and there is SO much rabbit imagery throughout the show. There are also direct references to AIW with set pieces and paintings.

Soundtrackgate: This one has to do with the Stranger Things OST and the overall insane musical symbolism throughout the show. A lot of different theories talk about the show's soundtrack, but this one talks about 3 tracks in particular: Being Different, The First Lie, The First I love You

To put it briefly: "The First I love You" plays in both Robin's coming out scene and El's kiss with Mike at the end of s3 (Already a weird parallel). The three tracks not only share the same melody, but they also sync up perfectly. "Being Different" (s4 van scene) and "The First Lie" (Nancy and Jonathan's kiss in s2) especially, match up together to create an entirely new track, completing eachother. The scenes featuring those three tracks also share very similar themes at their core. (This post goes into a lot of detail!)

Playlistgate: Character playlists! At a certain point, every character's official playlist on Spotify was deleted, except for three: Mike's, Will's and Billy's. Songs were seemingly being added/deleted for no reason to the Mike and Will ones and people were struggling to make sense of it all.

Also, Mike's character playlist in particular is VERY interesting (so many byler coded songs, as well as "Smalltown Boy" a gay anthem, about a young gay boy forced to leave his home town to escape from their disapproval and homophobia.) There are three playlists on Finn's spotify that are very incriminating. "Love songs" (That has "BOYS DON'T CRY" on it, a song that Will literally has a poster of in his room), "drive" and the most recent one "STurn". These playlists feature songs like "Let her go", "Angst in my pants", "Me and Michael", "Gay thoughts" just to name a few. Basically a lot of the songs on all four playlists seem very relevant to some complicated feelings about Mike's relationship with El/Will but also with himself and his sexuality.

Scriptgate: Oh boy. Here we go.

On August 5th 2022, the byler fandom got #bylerscript trending worldwide on Twitter while waiting for the 8flix account (run by Nick Runyeard) to release some supposed s4 scripts (that people PAID for, mind you). These scripts dropped on August 8th, featuring lines like: "I hate who I am" from Will in the van scene, "His mouth dry, like a California summer" from the bedroom apology scene and also, Will seemingly recognizing Brenner at NINA, despite never meeting him in canon.

These turned out to be fake and the community was in shambles. Nick started calling people psychos, the Stranger Writers tweeted that everyone got scammed, Nick privated his account and the authenticity of some released s2-s3 scripts was questioned. This post explains the entire situation in detail.

Breathgate: This one is also script related and specifically about a Mike/Max parallel.

In the official van scene script, when Mike sees Will's painting "his breath catches." Then, when Lucas asks Max to the Friday movie date, "(her) breath catches" as well. People caught on that parallel very fast and since the latter is obviously a romantic moment, it boosted their confidence for both Byler and Lumax endgame.

Piggybackgate: This one refers to two different situations/theories.

One, the seemingly deliberate framing of Mike and Will inside the little bubble in El's piggyback drawing (and it referening to Byler). The framing is especially suspicious, because the bubble drawing was drawn two separate times (it's different from one shot to the other). In the second shot, they're framed directly inside of it.

Two, Mike in his monologue essentially piggybacking off of Will's van confession. His monologue was going off of El's feelings, but since they weren't actually El's, the speech was based on Will's feelings. It also ties in with the parallel/foreshadowing between the monologue and Suzie's house, with Will being paralleled to the "director" kid, directing a "choking" Tabitha and their dad (more thorough explanation here).

Footballgate: On December 25 2024, the vast majority of the byler community spent their Christmas watching hours of NFL football, in the hopes we would maybe get a teaser or at the very least a release date for s5. This started from leakers saying we would most likely get something during the game.

We got nothing.

People were disappointed they wasted hours of their lives watching a sport they neither cared for or knew anything about, and the only thing we learned is that we would probably get something before the end of January 2025.

THE SILLIES

(aka the joke-theories/memes)

Miniongate: Mike and Will are secretly minions. (Because you know, minions are primarily blue and yellow)

This information will be revealed to us in s5 and they will have a magical girl-esque transformation where we see their true minion form. (Original post here)

Localvillagegate: Related to the leaked Mike and El rooftop scene.

Basically, a mlvn used AI to lip read the scene and try to figure out what Mike is saying (and then posted the video on Twitter).

According to them, Mike was telling El they were going to leave the local village (AKA Hawkins) together and travel to a beautiful faraway land with "like, three waterfalls or something" (and also that she has to "improve her motivation", whatever that means).

People thought it was hilarious and started making a ton of memes based on it.

Parrotgate: This is directly connected to localvillagegate™️ and it was created by @cloudycleric in one of his streams.

Basically, the parrots are gay and represent Will and Mike, who in s5 will kiss under the three waterfalls depicted on the image.

Backgroundguygate: People making headcanons and creating backstories for random extras. The star of this gate is Barrett, an extra from the Lenora high school, who wears a barrette, bright red pants and a shirt that says "Hell".

According to this gate, he's actually gay and in love with Will. He has a goth best friend named Claire who is a lesbian and in love with El.

Chancegate: The theme of shipping Will with random extras continues on strong

Chance is one of Jason's friends and part of the basketball team. People thought he was attractive and somewhere along the line started making headcanons for him and shipping him with Will (Bychance). Basically, they're gonna date and Mike will be jealous.

Mikhailgate: More shipping Will with randoms! (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)

Originally created by @paladin-n-cleric

Enzo in S4 mentions his son, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail is the Russian name for Micheal.

People started making jokes that Mikhail would arrive to Hawkins from Russia in s5 and shipped him with Will (Willhail), since he's like Mike but Russian and cooler. They made fanart, edits and posted pictures of Finn as Boris in "The Goldfinch" claiming it's Mikhail.

@will80sbyers then begun to ship Mikhail with El and thus the ship "Jail" was born.

Pastagate: On January 2nd 2025, Noah posted a 2024 recap on IG, which included a photo of a trailer door labeled "Rigatoni". People then started joking about Rigatoni being Will's new bf and the ship "Willoni" was born.

In reality, Rigatoni is a nickname for Noah and that was his trailer. But where's the fun in that?

Baldmikegate: Did you know Mike is actually bald and is bullied for it? Well, now you do.

In 2022, a cult was born and the byler tag was filled with edited pictures of Bald!Mike. Terrifying honestly.

Some people made posts about how the rest of the party feels about Mike's secret baldness and some even wrote FANFICS.

Gridgate/whiteboardgate/pixelgate: The Stranger Writers posted a picture of a pixelated/blurred whiteboard that had the entirety of s5 mapped out. People were desperately trying to decode it and figure out what was written on it.

On the space for episode 7, there was a "big black hole" that people went crazy trying to make sense of, only for it to be revealed as a pen holder.

Babygirlgate: The babygirlification of Mike Wheeler. That's it. That's the gate.

I think pretty much every line Will has ever said to Mike has been posted with the word "babygirl" replacing his name (it's hilarious and I love it)

Some examples here and here

Mattduffersbasementgate: Finn and Joe made up a third Duffer brother named Pete, who has no hair for some reason and is the actual writer of Stranger Things, while Matt and Ross are just the faces of it. Pete lives in a shed/Matt's basement and that's where he writes all of the scripts.

Finn and Noah are both also being held in Matt's basement however, and they're not allowed to leave so that they don't spoil byler endgame.

Lobegate: (This gate was officially named by @tripleatechie). In January 2025, a byler went undercover, sending asks to other members of the community pretending to be a Mlvn. In one of those, they accidentally misspelled "love" as lobe, which immediately became an inside joke. People starting speculating whether or not this was an actual Mlvn and an investigation ensued. On January 7th 2025, the identity of the undercover byler was revealed as @somewiseoutthere. The mystery didn't end there though, with people wondering if this was in reality a group effort with multiple culprits. Here is a list of all the possible culprits with a full timeline here.

Blankgate: On January 26th 2025, Atlantaspotting posted on Twitter a thread with controversial claims and gossip about the cast, but replaced all the names with BLANK, making pretty much incomprehensible, and impossible to figure out who it was about. Memes were then made, replacing every name and pronoun with BLANK.

omg this took SO LONG, but I will keep adding as more gates surface

(this post is for you @felix-fathoms @bibylers)

[ranafami1]

✅️✅️VETTED✅️✅️

Help my family befor late 😭😭🍉🍉

Save my children from the Gaza war

My name is Rana, I am 37 years old, and I hold a master’s degree in statistics

I am married and have 4 children

Two girls 👧👧 and two boys 🧑🧑, their ages (12 / 5 /5 /2 )

My husband works as a teacher and has a group of educational centers for teaching English in Gaza, Khan Yunis, and Rafah

I live in Gaza

At the beginning of the war, our educational center, Gaza branch, was destroyed and bulldozed.

It had been opened one month before the start of the war. The war on Gaza continued, and I am still residing in my home despite the danger and threat, but I left my home on 24/1/2024 because the Israeli army requested the evacuation of the city of Khan Yunis, and for fear for my children and my husband, I went to the city of Rafah, the safe place, as the army says, and I lived in a narrow and small place.

Iam and four children, my husband, and a group of displaced people suffered from many diseases and epidemics due to lack of food. And lack of water

Then the threats began to the city of Rafah, so I left for Hamad Town, a safe area, as the Israeli army said about it, and I stayed there with my relatives, and on February 25, the second educational center, Khan Yunis branch, was completely destroyed and blown up 😭😭

On 3 March , the army besieged Hamad Town, and Iam and my children, and my husband left under gunfire and the sound of shells✈️✈️ ✈️ And the fire belts🚀🚀 We left in the middle of the night on foot and continued walking for a whole day while tanks and soldiers surrounded us and we were displaced for the third time.

We returned to the city of Rafah again, but without any of the necessities of life , no clothes, no bedding, no luggage 🧥🧥

On 13 March , I received information that my house was completely destroyed. My home, my dreams, and my memories were destroyed 😭😭😭 I became homeless 😭😭😭

On 5 January , 2024, we left Rafah after the army threatened it, and we went out to Al-Mawasi and lived in a tent. Now I live in a small tent in a camp full of diseases🤧🤧 and epidemics🤮🤮

The last branch of the educational centers, the Rafah branch, was destroyed

Now I live in a tent

I fight for a living We no longer have a source of income other than aid and assistance, which are of no use

My children were deprived of education because of the war. They are now without schools

Please Help my children to escape from the hell of war in Gaza. Please help me to leave Gaza, educate my children and protect them from diseases and epidemics.

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ fear not the road untaken .

Sunday hadn't spent long with the Stellaron Hunters before boarding the Express, but the memories he'd made with them were priceless. One quiet day in the Express's cabin, while reflecting on his experiences with the Hunters, you appear to visit him.

astral express!sunday x gn!stellaronhunter!reader

contains: sunday used to be a stellaron hunter, teasing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE WRITTEN SO FAR, SUNDAY IS DOWN BADDDD AS HE DESERVES TO BE BITES FIST I MISSED THIS SO BADDDDD, not established relationship sunday just has a massive crush on you

word count: 2.06k

a/n: happy drip marketing yall. you all get a sunday fluff piece. as a treat. also yes i am completely and totally sane. (THIS IS THE MOST SELF INDULGENT FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN I AM SO SORRY GUYS)

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo

“Sunday, we’re going out to Belobog for a bit. Wanna come with?”

Heeled boots still in the midst of a step. Feather-like hair shifts and tousles as he turns his head. At the invitation, gold melts, sapphires glitter, and a gentle smile warms his lips.

March is a blessing, he thinks. She is bubbly, kind, and always manages to light up whatever room she steps into - in that regard, she is not too unlike his beloved sister. Although her ability to plan ahead leaves much room for improvement, he cannot deny that it was her presence that made his transition into a Nameless much easier than it would’ve been.

Although, truthfully, he’d expected more resistance from her - out of everyone, she seemed to be the most traumatized by the Charmony Festival Disaster, and she also had more of a distaste for Stellaron Hunters than the others. But surprisingly, she’d come around to him, and welcomed him into the Express with open arms - and a lot of food. He swears, every time she’s come back from a trip, it’s another sweet or drink shoved into his arms - not that he’s complaining, though.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he begins, then rests a hand over his chest as a reflex. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. The last expedition has left me rather exhausted - and as you know, I don’t fare well in cold weather.”

Dan Heng nods in understanding. He’s never been a man of many words, and for that Sunday appreciates him. He rather likes straight-forward people, who aren’t afraid to say their mind - perhaps that’s why he’s grown to adore both the Express and the Hunters so much.

“Is there anything you want us to bring back?” pipes up the Trailblazer, dog-like eyes shining as they lean over March. “Like, sweets or whatever?”

Sunday bites back a chuckle. Somehow, word had gotten around that Sunday had quite the sweet tooth. He doesn’t know who started it or how they found out (he has his suspicions on March), but ever since the trio has been dragging him around to various planets and encouraging him to try the local desserts.

He wonders if he’s gotten cavities yet. He hopes not.

Maybe he should check again, at a later time.

“That Rye Bread Iceberg you brought last time was rather enjoyable. I’d like to try it again.”

March and the Trailblazer brighten at his words. “Okay, on it!”

Dan Heng only hums his acknowledgement before turning to leave the parlor car. “Let’s go,” he advises the others. “You know Seele doesn’t like to wait.”

Sunday has never personally met this Seele (the Trailblazer describes her as a crass but kind-hearted warrior), but her fury is enough to whip both March and the Trailblazer into shape. It isn’t long before the trio is waving him goodbye as they descend into the frozen planet, and he also bids them farewell.

And then it is just him, and the conductor.

A small sigh leaves him as he sits down on one of the many couches. He wasn’t lying when he said he was exhausted. Fighting - or any physical activity, for that matter - isn’t exactly his strong suit. Even during his time with the Hunters, he’d stayed behind the front lines, acting as a pseudo Kafka with his carefully crafted words and tuning abilities.

That’s one of the few things about the Hunters that he prefers over the Express - they didn’t force him to hike through deserts and jungles and mountains and Xipe knows what else. All they did was throw him off a skyscraper in the name of the script (he’s pretty sure Elio just wanted to see if he’d actually fly or not).

Sunday blinks, realizing just what had just passed through his mind. Then he sighs with a smile, leaning back into the red plush of the couches.

Only a few months since his fall, and he’s already beginning to think as weirdly as the rest of them.

“Sunday, are you alright?”

Sunday glances down to see the conductor waddling by his feet.

Pom Pom is… strange, no doubt - for whatever reason, Dan Heng fears them and has advised Sunday to not anger them at all costs. Their past is shrouded in mystery, but Sunday finds himself drawn to the conductor. Perhaps living most of his life in a fever dream like Penacony has warped his perception of what is normal and what is not.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He shifts on the couch to make room, but the conductor shakes their head.

“Are you sure? Pom Pom saw you laughing to yourself,” they fret, tapping their nubby hands together anxiously. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

Sunday crosses one leg over the other, and rests his hands over his knee. “If you’re concerned about my transition from Penacony to reality, be at ease. The Hunters have practically beat a proper sleep schedule into me.”

Pom Pom yelps in shock. “B-Beat?! They beat you?”

“Not literally,” Sunday hastes, instinctively reaching out a hand to calm the conductor. “It was more akin to… ominously threatening checkups. Although, there was this one time-”

He sees the look on Pom Pom’s face, and decides to stop it there. He fears they might break out sobbing if he continues.

“Nevertheless, rest assured that I am sleeping at an appropriate time,” he finishes reassuringly. His practiced smile pays off as the conductor gradually calms down, albeit worry about the Hunters’ methods still lingers.

“Alright, if you say so, Sunday.” They look around uneasily. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Sunday waves his hands hastily. “No, I am alright, thank you-”

“He’ll have some tea.”

Pom Pom jumps with a shriek and Sunday’s wings puff up. A familiar laugh ghosts his ear, and immediately Sunday’s face brightens.

“What- What are you doing here?!” Pom Pom quickly hides behind one of Sunday’s slender legs, hugging it like a lifeline. Sunday places a hand on their head to calm them as he turns to the hologram with a warm smile.

“At ease, conductor, they’re a friend.”

Your holographic form glitches in and out of reality. There’s a thin blue filter over your appearance, but other than that, everything is the same as he remembers.

“Hey, angel,” you coo, leaning your elbow on his shoulder as you sit besides him. Its weight is not the same as it would be in reality, but the presence is enough - a small, barely noticeable tingle that has his heart fluttering and his wings following in suit. “How’s life as Nameless? Do you miss us yet?”

Sunday laughs gently. “It has only been two weeks since I left the Hunters. I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to miss you all.”

You pout playfully, sticking out your tongue.Even though parts of you chip away and reappear, and your form isn’t stable, Sunday can’t help but be as captivated by you as he was when he was still among the Hunters’ ranks. Where the projection fails, his tinted memory fills in.

“Silver Wolf misses you, although I doubt she’d actually say it,” you say, taking a lock of his hair and twirling it around your finger. “Has she visited you yet?”

Sunday stutters a bit before weakly batting your finger away with his wing. “No, I’m afraid she hasn’t.”

“Hm.” You smile at his attempt to brush you off. Letting go of his hair, you instead opt to tug lightly at his cheek, earning a squeak from the Halovian. “That’s weird. Maybe she was too shy to speak up.”

“I-” Sunday rubs his cheek when you finally let go. Embarrassingly, his wings jump to shield his face, an unfortunate reflex he’d yet to curb. “I suppose she was…”

He hears you hum, and he lifts a wing to peek at you. His cheeks feel hot - no, that’s an understatement, the entirety of his body feels as if he’s in a fireplace.

“Give her my regards,” he finally breathes out, thanking the Aeons for his training in keeping his composure. Sure, it ultimately fails whenever he looks at you, but at least he’s able to fix himself quickly enough… or at least, he hopes that’s what it looks like.

“You didn’t answer my question though.” Propping your elbow on his shoulder again, you rest your cheek in your palm. “How’s the Nameless life treating you?”

“It’s chaotic,” Sunday admits with a fond sigh. He relaxes into the couch once more, feeling himself sink into the plush. Briefly, he’s tempted to lean his head on your shoulder, but given that you’re a holograph, he holds himself back. “But it’s fun. The Nameless have been kind, and the planets I’ve visited… It’s nice, to see the universe as someone other than a wanted criminal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Sunday would apologize, but considering that it’s you he’s talking to, he doesn’t feel the need to. After all, you’ve said worse to him, and him to you.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. “To be honest, though, the Express and the Hunters aren’t so different.”

He hears Pom Pom squawk indignantly, and again he ruffles their fur to calm them. Turning ever so slightly to your hologram, he gazes at you with adoration and fondness swelling his heart.

“To the both of you, I am forever grateful. If it weren’t for your kindness, I’d be rotting away in an alley somewhere. I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

All distaste for the Hunters fades from Pom Pom as they giggle bashfully. “Aw, Sunday… You don’t have to thank us. We were just doing what the Nameless do.”

You nod in agreement, reaching through his wing and poking his cheek again. “Conductor’s right. No need for thanks, birdie.”

“Still-” Sunday makes a sound like a startled bird as you poke his cheek harder, squishing it against the rest of his face. Underneath his coat, his primary wings strain with the urge to flutter and twitch, while his secondary wings are held back by sheer willpower. The only sign that they want to flap so badly is with the tiniest of tremors.

“None of that,” you chide him gently, tapping him lightly on the plush of his lips. “We’re just glad you’re happy - right, bunny?”

“Who’re you calling bunny?!” Pom Pom protests, steam puffing out of their head while steam threatens to escape Sunday’s face for completely different reasons.

Before you can reply, however, your form begins to glitch out, flickering in and out of reality at a higher frequency. With an annoyed click of your tongue, you stand up.

“Looks like Silver Wolf isn’t happy,” you comment, brushing off imaginary dust from your clothes. Taking one step so that you’re fully in front of Sunday, you lean in so that your projected nose barely brushes against his. “I have to get going now. You have my number, so text me if you need anything, okay? Or if you want to catch me up with your travels, you can always call me.”

Sunday’s voice feels lodged in his throat. With a subtle gulp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing ever so slightly, he manages to speak with an even voice.

“Okay,” he whispers, his voice almost a whimper. He wants to explode.

You smile fondly, and duck in to peck at the corner of his lips. The buzzing of your holograph morphs into electrifying lightning, surging into his veins, puffing up his feathers and making all of his hairs stand up and sending his already tapping heart into a frenzy. His body freezes into a statue, and all coherent thoughts melt away into a haze that is both ecstatic and shocked.

By the time you pull away, his wings are flapping erratically and his entire body is dyed in a rosey red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, but all words die on his tongue and he is left blabbering like a fool.

You laugh again, eyes crinkling so beautifully he swears he’s ascended.

“If that’s how you react, I wonder how cute you’ll be when it’s the real deal.”

And then you’re gone, vanishing like a sweet dream in a flurry of pixels, leaving Sunday there to dazedly touch his lips, and then where you’d kissed him.

And then he smiles, giddily, and his halo practically glows as soft, love-stricken giggles begin to leave him.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[flatstarcarcosa]

also i’m going to be incredibly sleep deprived today so i cannot be held legally responsible for whatever bullshit gets posted between now and roughly 6pm monday the 12th

[jamminvroomvroom]

second time around.

ln x fem!reader

in which he’s quite desperate to have a second kid.

staying in my active era! there is honestly no excuse for this one, i just simply couldn’t help myself. it’s porn, yes, there is plot, but it’s just. porn.

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! where do i even begin? smut, more smut, breeding kink (kinda the whole point), choking, overstimulation, general sex acts, public sex, car sex, shower sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of the kid they already have, lando being a little shit, sex somewhere unhinged in the mtc, a brief moment of angst, dom!lando, rough sex? yeah.

3.9k words

take: 1

the season is coming to an end.

somewhere between italy and singapore lando decides he wants another kid.

it’s a warm day in the middle of september when he proposes the idea to you. you’re watching your daughter toddle around the garden, soaking up the last remnants of sunlight before the darkness of autumn encapsulates the warm beams until march.

she giggles, pushing her toys around in the grass. you let her play, lost in her own little world of wonder. lando turns to you, scanning your side profile, watching you watch the little girl. he’s awestruck, enamoured totally by the family he’s created, by the woman he loves. he doesn’t think, he just opens his mouth and let’s loose his big idea.

“want another one?” he cooes, sliding closer across the bench, until he’s nosing at your cheek. kisses are pressed to your puffy face. it’s still early.

at first you think he’s offering you another coffee, so you hold out your almost empty mug to him. you’d been nursing the drink, letting it go cold in the naturally cooler air. he laughs at you, and that’s when you clock what he’s actually asking.

you turn to him, facing each other now. lando looks excited. you wonder if you can find a way to mirror his expression.

“lando…” you start. his face drops at your tone, letting him down easy. “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-“

“i’ll be home more. i’ve worked it all out. if we get to work now, baby will be here around the summer break.”

you mull over his words.

your first baby was a shock to you both, and you didn’t fancy doing that again. you loved lando with every fibre of your being, just as you did your daughter, but being away from him so much in the lead up to her arrival shot every one of your nerves to pieces.

but another baby would be on the agenda eventually - you both desperately wanted to add to your beautiful family - and you supposed that if he’d done the math…

“by get to work now, you mean…?” you cock an eyebrow at him. he lights up like the christmas tree you’d be putting up in a few months.

“she’s going down for her nap soon.” lando smirks, voice edged with that excitement once again.

-

his head is between your legs mere moments after he shuts your bedroom door.

you’d been waiting for him, stripped bare in anticipation. your baby girl would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for him to draw out everything you had to offer and fill you back up.

his tongue runs over your flesh; he’s messy with it. you’re choking out whimpers as he licks and laps and tugs with his teeth. your pussy clenches around nothing and he notices, sliding his fingers all over where you ache. they’re quickly wet enough to slide inside of you, and he grinds them deep, luring traces of an orgasm into the pit of your belly. it’s familiar, the way he winds you up, and you want him like this every minute of the day.

“getting you ready, honey. gonna get you so fucking ready.” lando is slurring words into your cunt, letting them get lost to your sodden folds. you hear every word perfectly. they make you shake and shake until you’re undone.

when he looks up at you, his mouth is glistening. his fingers are, too. he hates wasting a drop of you, so he laps up the mess you’ve made while he shuffles up the bed. when he’s finally hovering over you, he’s desperate, but you’re worse. you could cry from the urge.

something carnal is taking place; he’s staring into your soul, finishing up the remnants of your taste, and you’re begging with your eyes, hands slinking all over your own body. you must be dripping by now. your body is restless and you raise your hips, inviting him close, deep.

when he thrusts into you, he’s pinning you down into your shared mattress. you’re completely at his mercy and he fucking loves it. you love it more. you go slack underneath him, and he starts a slow grind. he’s not thrusting, not yet, he’s just rolling into you, deeper, deeper, deeper. you feel the first tears threatening to fall. he feels so good, it’s unbearable.

he nudges at your most sensitive spot, over and over and over. you whine carnally and he swallows it, licking into your mouth. his curls tickle your forehead, you’re pressed so close together. he sees the pools in your eyes and then he looses it completely.

hand on your neck for leverage, he starts thrusting, harder and harder, faster than you can ever recall. he knows you can take it, knows how bad you want it, and that thought alone spurs him on. you have the same goals, the same shared instincts. you feel nothing but pure fucking bliss everywhere.

“you want me to fill you up? you want my baby, honey? want me buried nice and deep?” you hear him grunt, but he sounds so far away.

you are lost to the void when you come. you can’t even try and resist, not when you can hear how wet you are, not when you can hear the quiet whimpers he tries to fight at the way your pussy convulses around him. you cannot see anything but the stars in his eyes.

you go limp and he spills, fucking it even further into you. his eyes are trained on where you’re still joined, and where he’s still fucking you. you’d be screaming if not for the hand wrapped around your throat. the most delicious piece of jewellery you own.

lando needs to know he’s gone as deep as he can, that you’ve come as hard as he can make you. he feels unhinged when his fingers find your clit, switching between short spasms of his finger on the nub, and grinding down on it with his palm. you’re both overstimulated, soaked with sweat and other things. you’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that he can’t stop the rush of moans, your name mumbled like a prayer between expletives.

but still, he needs to know it’s deep enough.

an hour later, you can finally move, and you sink deep into the bath.

your head is on his chest, he washes you gently. you wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.

-

date night

almost a month passes. no sign of baby number two.

it’s fine, you tell yourself. you tell lando, too. all the more reason to keep practicing.

every opportunity he gets to bury himself to the hilt inside of you is a win in both of your books. he grabs every single one of those opportunities with both hands.

you’re dressed up nice for dinner, little black dress hugging you well. you watch the scenery flick past you. lando’s in the drivers seat, making small talk, his left hand heavy on your bare thigh. you’ve just dropped your daughter off with her grandparents, your mother hugging lando tight. he’d been gone a while.

fingers skim higher up your thigh. you want to let him carry on but this car is new, untainted by his adventurous personality and your willingness to comply. your legs snap shut and you watch him smirk out the corner of your eye.

“later.” you whisper.

his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

“i know. don’t you worry, honey.” he doesn’t sound convincing, no, he sounds like a man with a plan and you dread to think of what he has in store.

the restaurant is tiny. a hole in the wall. it’s intimate, exclusive, slightly extortionate, but lando likes to treat you. you order, and he behaves. you sip wine, and he behaves. you drag your heel up his leg, and still, he behaves. you know something is brewing behind those stormy eyes.

he launches his attack during dessert.

vanilla ice cream hits your tongue when he strikes, leaning back in his chair. his thick neck captures your attention, the dim light accentuating him just right.

“would your prefer we take this to the car or the bathroom? it’s pretty spacious back there, you know.”

lando speaks so casually, and slightly too loudly. your cheeks are aflame.

“lando!” you hiss in warning. you’re sputtering over his boldness, catching some ice cream with your tongue. he watches the way it moves over your lips intently.

“actually, as tempting as the bathroom is, we still need to break in the new car.” lando sounds like he’s talking about the weather, or a shopping list, not the location of your next sexcapade. you swear you see the old lady at the next table over wink at you. “your choice, honey.”

you’re staring daggers at him. he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and a shit eating grin contorting his pretty face.

“i’ve been gone too long, i need to remember what that pussy feels like.” his voice has dropped an octave but it’s still too loud. you inadvertently grind against the chair. the candle on the table flickers from the force of the shaky breath your expel.

“if you shut up now, you can have me anywhere you want me.” you mumble, bringing your napkin to your lips. the ice cream is melting and you have more important things on your mind.

“i’ll have you anyway, honey. because no matter what happens, we’re gonna go back to the car and you’re gonna crawl into my lap, aren’t you? you’re not gonna be able to help it.” he keeps going and you want the ground to swallow you up. maybe you want to crawl over the table and jump on his lap right here. you fight every natural instinct.

“lando.” you try to scold him again but it comes out breathier, a feeble attempt at shutting him up. it’s hard to be convincing when you want nothing more than for him to bend you over in the middle of this restaurant.

“and after i’ve had you shaking on my lap, i’m gonna fill you up, yeah? you’ve been waiting for weeks, poor thing.”

you usher over the waiter, and ask for the bill.

-

he’s got you home in one piece and all the way up to the shower.

you’re still delirious from the car. he’s still dripping out of you.

he pushes you against the shower screen, your cheek resting on the fogged up plastic. the combination of yours and his first orgasm is enough to slick him up and he slides right back inside of you, as if he’d never left.

your head is spinning, car lights and nail prints in leather seats flashing through your mind.

he’d been right in the restaurant. you’d crawled straight into his lap and he’d been waiting, seat pushed back, cock slapping up against his tanned belly. he’d swiped his fingers through your folds, determining that you were wet enough already, and then you’d sunk straight down on him.

at first he’d just watched you lose control, bouncing and grinding and whining on his lap. you were growing tired when he stepped in, pushing you back against the steering wheel, the angle change making your eyes roll back. you came twice with his fingers on your clit and his other hand holding you down so he could grind up into you. he’d released deep into you, all you could do was shudder, collapsing into his chest.

now, he’s taking you again, the hot water cascading over you both. you’re almost limp, caught between the cold screen and his hot, restless body. this it was three weeks apart does to him, and the urge to claim every part of you is at the forefront of his mind.

you’re writhing. there’s no room to move; he’s pressed so tight against you, breathy moans sounding straight into your ear and you want him impossibly closer. you always missed him so much it hurt, but that pain had increased tenfold lately.

you try to roll your hips back into him, needing him deeper, somehow. you’re so wet and tight around him, and your attempt at moving on him has you clamping down on him.

lando whimpers when he lets go, marking you as his.

he washes your hair and you fall asleep together naked.

-

the fear

lando is due back from qatar.

any minute now, he’ll be walking through the door.

he’s taken a podium, so you are expecting somewhat high spirits, despite the slight issue that had been the sprint race.

a podium is a podium, you’d tried to tell him on the phone late on saturday night. you knew that a podium was never just a podium.

you’re cleaning the kitchen up, your sweet daughter tucked up tight in her bed upstairs. a random playlist is sounding from the speakers and you flit around in just his hoodie. it hits mid thigh and it’s keeping you shielded from the biting october air.

you hear keys in the lock somewhere in the distance. you grin stupidly. god, you always fucking miss him. you turn to face the doorway, eagerly anticipating his face, longing for one of his speciality hugs.

instead, a storm enters your kitchen in the form of your boyfriend.

you raise and eyebrow.

“lando?” you question.

your hips are in his hands before he can answer. he’s walking you backwards until the granite of the counter is digging into your lower back.

“turn around.” his voice is gravelly, commanding. you do as you’re told.

the hoodie is bunched around your waist, your panties are tugged to the side. you can hear the rustle of fabric, assuming he’s getting himself ready. two fingers gloss through your folds while he pushes you down, bending you over for him. he’s rubbing circles into your clit and you’re keening into his touch.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you manage to choke out. he grunts in response.

“just need to get inside you.” is all he replies. well, okay then.

lando rearranges you, hiking one of your knees up so that’s it’s resting on the countertop. your other foot barely touches the floor when he fucks into you, ruthless. you cry out, reaching blindly behind you for him. you graze his hip and he shivers, pushing into you even harder.

he’s frantic, messy with it, thumbing at your clit. there’s hardly any room to move his hand, so he’s grinding the pad of his thumb as best he can. the pressure builds in your belly embarrassingly fast. you love when he gets like this, but you will pry what’s wrong out of him later when he curls up into his chest.

“gonna give you another one. s’all i can think about. fucking you full.” he mutters. your back arches into him.

“please.” you whimper, slurred. it’s all you can think about too.

your plea ushers along his orgasm, and he drops his head against your back. you’re shaking when you finish; he stays buried deep for a moment, silence washing over you.

when he helps you stand up, he kisses you deep. he brushes the hair from your face, says hello properly.

“wanna go see her.” he mumbles.

-

when you finally manage to climb the stairs, you see straight into your daughters room.

lando is stood over her crib, watching her sleep in the lamp lit room. he’s cooing something to her that you can’t make out. your knees are weak at the sight. you want to fill this house with children that look like him and laugh the way he does.

he catches you watching, sending you a wink, a promise that he’ll meet you in bed. when he finally does, drawing back the sheets and dropping into bed beside you, he wraps himself around you instantly.

“talk to me.” you command, toying with his hair in a way that you know turns him into mush in your hands.

“can’t win a race, can’t give you another baby. just- fuck.” he sighs, voice so small. you tear up but you push that aside for now.

“stop, lando. don’t do this to yourself.” you try to sound firm, attentive.

“just- am i good to you? am i good to her?” he needs to hear you say it, that’s the only thing that will talk him down from this spiral. he’s exhausted, and this is often a consequence.

“sometimes i think you hung the stars in the sky.” you hum, kissing his forehead.

gentle snores lull you to sleep.

-

quickie

you go with him to austin.

it seemed logical, after the events of qatar. your daughter has been stolen away by lando’s dad, who is showing her the paddock and introducing her to mechanics. you watch on, momentarily, because then lando is stealing you away.

“haven’t you got fp3 in a minute?” you ask, coy smile on your face. he’s pulling your jeans down and kicking them away.

“this won’t take long.” he smirks.

you crave the upper hand for a change. his race suit is already undone, so you make your move. you tug down his fireproofs, taking his cock in your hands. he’s hard already, glistening for you. he groans, but doesn’t make you stop.

you’re watching him through your eyelashes, his head tipping back in pleasure. you work your hand around him, up and down, applying pressure at the base and around the tip. it’s flushed red, wet in your hand and he looks too pretty to stop. he can have you later, in your hotel room, you think. right now, you’re having him.

lando is panting, thrusting into your hand when he comes for you. you’re soaked through, and he can probably see the damp patch on the panties. his release hits your stomach, painting your flushed skin white. your eyes scan the room for something to clean yourself with, but he beats you to it.

thick fingers swipe through the mess he’s made. your panties are tugged to the side and then he’s fucking you with said fingers. you cannot produce a thought, mouth gaping open in the shape of an ‘o’. the sight before you has you gushing, and he uses that leverage to speed up.

“you think i’m gonna let it go go waste, honey? silly girl. pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters.

your hips are bucking into his hand when he pulls out of you, collecting more of him from your belly, and then he’s thrusting them in again. you tear up from the pleasure coursing through you, white hot. he’s crazy, you think, but he’s so fucking beautiful, teasing glint in his eye as he curls his fingers deeper.

“want it so bad, don’t you? gotta keep you full for me, don’t i?”

you’re sure you can be heard from the garage when your orgasm hits.

-

office party

a burnt orange dress clings to your hips and a curly haired man clings to your hand.

the mtc is lit up for another gala that you and lando have to attend. the season is over and they’ve had a great run, so a toast must be made to celebrate that.

you watch him get passed around the room between sponsors and other important people, proud of what he’s achieved. you hate sharing him, but it’s a necessary evil, so you drink champagne with oscar’s girlfriend, lily, and natalie pinkham.

when lando comes back to you, his PR smile is dropped and that genuine, boyish grin returns that you have so missed in his momentary absence. he introduces you to some people, proudly showing you off, sinking drinks as he does.

it’s nearing 10pm when his actions become questionable. his hand stays on your ass, his words whispered in your ear are filthy and his sly kisses on your neck stop being quite so sly.

you remove him from the main event, just for a moment, just to try and get him to compose himself before you jump him against one of the vintage racing cars. he sees this as an invitation, however, and then everything goes awry.

he’s dragging you into the lift, kissing you against the closed doors. when you stumble out a floor up, you can still hear the function in full swing. he’s pulling you down a hallway and into what you assume is an office. when he has you sat on a desk, you realise where you are.

“is this zak’s office?” your eyes pop out of your head, bewildered.

“maybe.” he shrugs. he’s smirking like a bastard.

“you’re insane.” you shake your head, standing from the desk, but his lips ghost your ear and you’re putty in his hands.

“you’re driving me insane. coming here in this tight fucking dress. can’t stop looking at you, thinking about this.” his hand rubs over your lower belly as he speaks, and then you’re back on the desk.

lando’s on his knees, peeling the silky material over your thighs until your barely there panties are in his face. he mouths over them briefly, and then they’re gone and his tongue is buried to the hilt in your cunt.

it doesn’t take him long to get you off, the alcohol and the thrill of being in the one place you should never have sex pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

the glass wall of windows is too inviting for lando to pass up, so on shaky legs, you’re pressed up against them, looking out over the pond and the fairy lights when he pushes into you.

he’s kissing over your shoulder, your neck, holding your down on him while he thrusts up into you. you turn your head to kiss him, to let him swallow up your noises that could give you away.

“you’re so fucking good for me, honey. letting me have you here like this just so i can give you a baby.” he slurs against your lips, pussy drunk and ravenous.

he finds your clit, fast fingers making small swipes against it and you want to cry.

“gonna make this time count, yeah, honey? gonna keep it all inside of you until we get home?”

you try to nod, try to say something but you’re choking on air and dripping all over him. a couple more thrusts and you’re the perfect vessel for him to release into, throbbing and hot around his cock.

“beg for it, honey, come on. tell me how much you want it.” lando mumbles right in your ear.

“lando, please. please, please, please.” you whimper. “come for me, baby, need it inside of me.”

you leave the office a lot more composed than when you entered it. well, aside from the remnants of him that are running down your inner thighs.

-

a month later, lando’s laughing. he’s actually laughing, while you cringe, burying your blushing face in his chest.

you’re holding a pregnancy test in your hands, finally a positive one.

when you do the maths, you realise where baby norris was conceived, and you try and make him promise never to tell anyone that it was in his boss’s office.

“it’s a funny story.” he tells you. there are tears in his eyes.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you roll your eyes. you are also dangerously close to crying.

but truthfully, you’re the lucky one. he carries you to bed that night, claiming that now you had a baby on board, you had to be careful!

you dream of him, that night. the man that hung the stars in the sky.

-

once again, idk what came over me i’m sorry lmfao

-

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removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ you were always mine ; lh43

➪ summary: luke has a hard time keeping his friends-with-benefits relationship with y/n just friends-with-benefits, which leads to hurt feelings and unspoken words

➪ warnings: slightly possessive luke, fwb, um... luke lowkey playing with reader's feelings...

➪ word count: 3.4k

➪ cupid's notes: fwb!luke is occupies a spot in my brain that only fwb!luke is reserved for. i would love to talk more about fwb!luke so if you ever feel like yapping away whether it's here or bedsysangel for more nsfw thoughts, i would be more than happy to answer them. takes place in 2023 which i'm sure you could get within a few paragraphs but whatever. anyway, thank you again for 1k, i love all of you so so so much 🥰

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

What started as a strictly platonic relationship between her and Luke quickly escalated into something more. 

The two met during their freshman year of college when y/n dragged her roommate and a few of their friends to a frat party. She was planning on having a drink or two, blending into the crowd but getting to know a few people, simply a ‘welcome-to-campus’ type situation. But when her friends let their high school personalities seep in, she found herself locked in a room with Luke.

Much to her friends’ displeasure though, nothing happened except for a newfound friendship. The two quickly became inseparable, going out to the movies, watching his games, and playing Monopoly in her dorm every Friday night, it was y/n and Luke against the world.

And things were going amazingly, that was until sometime late into their freshman year when the line between friendship and relationship started to blur. She wasn't going to say anything, she was growing accustomed to Luke's lingering touches when they’d part ways after walking to class together and his soft words when he’d bring her into a hug after the team won. She didn’t want them to stop.

Every time Luke's arm wrapped around her waist to pull her back into his chest, every time he'd beg her to wear his jersey to his games, every time he'd place a kiss on her cheek, every time he'd take her hand and put it in his hair so she’d play with his curls, it was overwhelming.

And deep down she knew she was harboring less than platonic feelings for him, he was Luke; beautiful, handsome, cheeky, awkward but confident Luke. She couldn't help but indulge in her mind's fantasies of his kisses against her shoulder or his arms tightly curled around her and cuddling in his bed.

So, she did. She leaned into his touches, into his whispered sayings, and that was how she ended up here, at the beginning of March during her sophomore year, letting Luke drag her through campus with a tight grip on her hand, letting him scare other guys off, letting him push her against the wall as he left open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

Ever since that one night when the two of them had finally succumbed to the feeling of want, no need, Luke had only grown more touchy and possessive; glaring at any guy who looked at her, guiding her to sit on his lap when there were 5 other places to sit, braiding her hair in front of her friends, late-night cuddles with her adorning one of his t-shirts. 

She, along with everyone else, was riding out the high of the team’s win against Penn State even into the following weekend, the win signifying one game closer to a Frozen Four victory. Her group had found their way to a celebratory party that was happening somewhere around campus, it was hot and sticky due to the humidity and all the bodies there, and low and behold she had tagged along, Luke not too far behind her.

Standing in the living room, she was pressed tightly against him, his arm attached to her waist to make sure she didn't stray too far. However, after one too many drinks, she had to go to the bathroom, raising on her tip-toes in order to let him know where she was going. 

Luke being the protective best friend gentleman he was, offered to go with her, making sure nobody would bother her. But she reassured him that she would be fine making her way through the crowd and up the stairs, so reluctantly he let her go, keeping his gaze on her with every step she made.

He kept one ear on the conversation he was having with Ethan, moving his wrist in small circular motions to watch the liquid inside spin around, while the other ear he kept open in case she had called out. Seven minutes, eight minutes passed and there was no sign of her anywhere, he was getting antsy without her by his side. He kept telling himself that maybe there was a line, maybe someone was fucking in there and she had to find her way to a different bathroom.

Yet, he glanced around the living room through the mob of people in search of her and he froze when he saw two figures near the stairs. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at y/n talking animatedly with another guy, a bright smile on her face, a smile that he loved to be the cause of.

He mumbled an excuse to his friend, walking over to where the two were standing. He had abandoned his drink, dumping the rest of the cups’ contents down the sink before throwing the cup away in the nearest trash bag available. 

He neared them, finally being able to pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, but he wasn’t too worried about what they were talking about, just more or less how they were talking. He came to a stop a few feet behind her, scanning the guy from the top of his neatly gelled hair to the bottom of his new dress shoes, what was this, a wedding?

He couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes as he finished examining him, but he could stop the words of sarcasticness from falling out of his mouth, just barely though. 

He closed the short distance to y/n, his arms immediately encircling her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. She didn’t need to look over to see who it was, the firm, comforting hold was enough to let her know. 

Her smile brightened, glancing back to see a pouty, puppy dog-eyed expression plastered on his face with a possessive gleam in his eye. Her attention was entirely focused on the boy behind her now, entranced with the way his hair formed perfect ringlets but was messy at the same time caused by the dampness from his earlier shower and the humidity from the house they were in.

“Hey, Lukey.” 

“Hey.” His voice was low and somewhat hoarse from yelling the past week, the sound making her body tingle in the slightest bit. 

She could feel the way his grip tightened, placing her hands on top of his and lacing their fingers together as she motioned her head towards the guy who was still standing in front of them, “This is Alex, we have a class together.”

He nodded, turning his head so he could bury it into her neck placing soft kisses against her skin. A blush covered her cheeks, turning more and more pink with each kiss. 

“Luke.” She murmured in an attempt to stop him. Usually, she wouldn’t mind the display of affection or the gentle undertone of his jealousy, but in the past few weeks, it had gotten only slightly out of hand, she felt like she couldn’t even talk to a guy without Luke showing up and scaring them off. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, continuing his feather-light kisses, only pausing to eye the guy and what his face was expressing. She fought the urge to sigh, roll her eyes, and mutter an annoyed response. If he wanted to be around every time she talked to a guy, fine, so be it. 

She picked back up the previously abandoned conversation with Alex, talking about their upcoming finals and their summer plans. Luke’s irritation grew as their talking went on, wanting nothing more than to take y/n back to his place and strip every piece of clothing off her. He would even settle for finishing their game of Monopoly from last night, as long as he got her away from the ‘hungry’ gaze Alex had on her. 

So, he proceeded to do the only thing he knew would draw her attention back to him, moving to suck lightly on the one spot that made her weak in the knees within seconds. He could feel her tense for not even a nanosecond before she was melting into him. But little to his knowledge, a fury lit her eyes, her patience completely running out. 

 She stepped forward out of his grasp, saying a polite goodbye to her friend before dragging him out of the house and into the late March weather. It was still relatively chilly causing her to wrap her jacket tighter around her as they walked toward the sidewalk.

“What was that Luke?”

“What was what?” His face was the definition of innocence, a slight grin playing on his lips as he looked down at her.

She huffed as she took in his expression, “You know what. Why couldn’t you just let us talk in peace?”

“He was bothering me.”

“We were just talking about finals, I don’t know how that could’ve been bothering you.”

“He was looking at you like he wanted to tear your clothes apart.” He argued, frustration overtaking him. 

“So?”

“‘So’?” He asked incredulously, staring at her as if she had grown to heads. Since when was she all for someone looking at her the way he was only supposed to?

“Yeah, ‘so’. Luke, we’re not even dating.”

Her words were like a blow to his stomach. He knew they weren’t dating, but he thought at least there was some unspoken agreement that the two of them were simply just the two of them, that no one was going to come in and take the other way from them. 

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because every time I even so much as think about a guy, you’re swooping me into your arms and taking me somewhere. I haven’t had a normal interaction with a guy in weeks.”

So maybe he was being a little over-possessive. He didn’t mean to, really, he just wanted her for himself, wanted everyone to know that she was his and he was hers. 

“You’re leaving soon, Lu.”

His thoughts came to a stop, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he stared at her, “What do you mean I’m leaving soon? Y/n/n if you’re talking about Tampa it’s just for the weekend-”

“I’m talking about New Jersey, Luke.” 

He blinked slowly, more confused than before. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes wandering around so she wouldn’t have to see him taking in what she said. 

“What’re you talking about?” His voice was soft, and careful, not wanting to upset her more than she was. 

“I’m not stupid, y’know? I’ve seen the tweets, the Devils are planning on calling you up after this whole thing is over.” She waved her hand, gesturing to the party that was thrown because of the championship. 

 “You don’t know that for sure.” He kept his words steady, reassuring her that everything people were saying was just rumors, but even he knew that wasn’t true. 

“Even if it’s not, how are we going to continue this when you do eventually go out there?” Her eyes met his, both of them shining with unshed tears, “You can’t expect me to just be a buffer for you.”

“Hey, you’re not just a buffer-”

“But aren’t I? Isn’t that what we’re doing? Using each other until we can find someone we actually want to be with?” Each word twisted the knife in his stomach further, had she really thought she was just a buffer? 

He regained his composure quickly, speaking firmly, “No. You are not just a buffer to me, sweetheart.”

The nickname caused a swarm of butterflies to erupt in her stomach and she did her best to push each one down, far enough that they couldn’t come back. The way he was talking made her feel like maybe she was wrong about the status of their feelings, maybe he really did like her and now she was ruining it, but the voice in the back of her had assured her she was reading this the right way.

“I’m not just going to drop you the second I leave for Jersey, whenever that may be.” He reached for her hand, but she stepped back, narrowly escaping the touch. 

“I can’t keep doing this. You-” she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to say, “You’ll go to Jersey and I’ll be here, there’s no room for me to go with.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, we both know it. It- we won’t work like this.”

“So that’s it? We’re just not even going to talk anymore?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant.” He interjected, eyes still glistening with tears.

“It isn’t. I just- god Luke, you act like you want me to be nothing more than your best friend one minute and the next we’re having sex against the wall!”

He breathed heavily, listening to her speak, “If you can’t make up your mind then I’ll do it for you, whatever this is, it can’t go on. Not when we’re going to be in two different places and certainly not when we feel two different ways.”

“Y/n…” He trailed off, one last attempt to get her to hear him out, but he watched her shake her head and walk down the street, wrapping her arms around herself to protect her from the cold.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

A week later and their not-so-breakup breakup had been the only thing on his mind, not the fact that he had just lost a Frozen Four championship, not that he had just played in what would be known as his last college game, not the fact that sometime in the next few days he would sign his first NHL contract and play in his first NHL game alongside his brother. 

He sat in his hotel room, twisting and turning in his bed as he struggled to fall asleep. Eventually, he gave up, opting to lay flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling, making note of every single bump it had. 

In less than 48 hours he would be doing something that he had dreamed of doing since he was younger, since he’d even known it was a possibility. And yet, none of it felt right without her there. 

They had been glued to each other’s side since that party, doing almost everything together; shopping, walking to classes and practices, eating, homework, laundry, any chance they had to be together they were. 

It was a strange feeling, not having her around even emotionally. She was always the first person he reached out to when something exciting happened; he scored a goal, he got a good grade on his test, he saw a squirrel on his way to see her, or when something upsetting happened; he got hit with a puck causing a bruise on his side, his visit to see his brothers got delayed, or he just felt downright horrible.

The thought of him relying on her too much came quickly but left just as fast. It wasn’t like he was dependent on her, he was his own person and she was hers, but she was his person. 

The one who would make him feel better with just a simple smile, the one who engaged in hockey talk because she knew it made him happy, the one who texted him random life updates every so often, the one who wasn’t afraid to let him see the real her. 

Fuck.

Realization slammed into him, hard and heavy like he was just fighting for the puck and got slammed into the boards.

Signing a piece of paper could wait until Monday, but telling his best friend he was in love with her couldn’t.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Y/n watched the game despite her promise to herself not to. Curled up on her bed, the game playing on her computer as she ate ice cream. Going into the third period they were tied and she had mustered up as much hope as she could, but goal after goal, Quinnipiac scored 3, bringing the final score to 5-2. 

She was disappointed at their loss, as much as any other student attending Michigan, but she was even more upset that this now solidified the beginning of Luke’s future. In however many days he would be playing in New Jersey.

And now it was the day after and she was in her room working on a paper for one of her classes, headphones blocking out all the noises around her. She looked between multiple tabs, searching her papers for a Post-it note she had written not too long ago, and continuously deleted and retyped the same thing.

She was just about to start writing a new portion of the paper when a knock and wave of a hand in front of her pulled her from her thoughts, looking over to see her roommate. She pulled her headphones off, letting them rest around her neck, “What’s up?”

“Someone’s here for you.” She didn’t miss the slight smirk she had, which never meant anything good.

She uncurled herself from her spot on the chair, leaving her headphones on her desk before making her way to the door, and opening it. She froze when she saw who it was, Luke in a familiar blue Michigan sweatshirt and gray sweatpants.

“Luke? What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

She hesitated but the look on his face made her crumble, opening the door wide so he could step into her apartment. They walked towards her room, letting him go in and sit down on her bed as she stood near the door, arms crossed against her chest.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m signing my contract tomorrow.”

“Oh, um- that’s amazing, congrats, Lu.”

He nodded, looking at the ground. A few beats passed and all he could think about was the urge to pull her in for a kiss. He wasn’t known for his impulsiveness, or maybe he was and he just never made it a big deal, but now? He couldn’t help but act on the urge, so he did. 

He took a few steps forward, pushing the second-guessing thoughts out of his mind, coming to a stop when he towered over her completely, hand reaching to cup her face and brush his thumb across her cheek.

She flushed, staring up at him with wide, almost doe-like, eyes. He leaned down, bringing his lips to meet hers, instantly causing her to turn into a puddle of mush. She kissed back just as eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck like they had been itching to do it for the past week. 

When she felt her breath running out, she pulled away, allowing her forehead to rest against his, both of them panting softly as they tried to steady their breathing. Luke’s gaze was entirely on her, studying the way her eyelashes were laying delicately on her cheeks, her light freckles spread across her nose, the pieces of hair that escaped from her ponytail. 

“You were always mine.”

Her eyes shot open at his quiet murmur, looking at him like he had just given her the answers to every single exam she still had to take. She gulped, trying to reign her thoughts in, “What?”

“You were always going to be mine, y/n/n. From the moment you bumped into me at the party, from the moment we first watched Miracle together and you cried, from the moment you stole 200 bucks of my money the first time we played Monopoly, from the first time you put on my jersey, I knew that I had to make you mine.

“And I know it’s taking me a long time, way too long, but I needed you to know, now more than ever. It might be too late, but I just-”

“I was always going to want to be yours.”

Her admission flowed through him, easing his worries immensely. He breathed a low chuckle, “Thank god. I was starting to think I was going to have to say the whole speech I prepared.”

“There was more?”

He nods sheepishly, but it was better to be over-prepared than not prepared enough, he would’ve said the whole thing a million times if it meant she would say those words.

“Are you going to let me hear it?”

“That depends… what do I get if I do?”

“A kiss?”

He hummed in thought, “I don’t know, baby. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into writing this.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hughes.”

And who was he to say no?

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[wileys-russo]

Lia wälti, "if you don't sit down and relax right now i will tie you to the bed", living room

perfect grade II l.wälti

"lia? i'm back!" you sung out, arms ladden with groceries as you kicked the door closed and winced at the sound of the slam, hurrying to the kitchen as you felt one of the paper bag handles begin to rip.

"liebling?" you yelled as you placed the bags down on the counter and could finally exhale in relief. though you frowned not getting a response, a quick check of the living room showing the movie you'd left her watching still playing but the swiss woman who was once laid on the couch no longer there.

another check of both the bedroom and the guest bedroom turned office came up empty, a hum leaving your lips in particular at the empty office.

you'd sat by and supported your girlfriend through her studies all year, and you knew tomorrow her final grades for the term came out and all week she had been a slightly insufferable ball of stress.

so much so that with some not so gentle pressure from your mutual friends and team who lia had been snapping at all week, you'd forced her into a self care day and had been attempting to remove any and all stresses from the environment of your shared home.

that started first and foremost with you taking both her phone and laptop which had been locked away in your car all day, keys hidden and lia voicing her protests all morning but you hadn't backed down.

finally with a few kisses and a promise to make whatever she wanted for lunch and dinner and clean up afterwards so she didn't need to lift a finger, she'd begrudgingly leaned into things and began to settle.

so much so that you'd left her to her own devices for a mere forty five minutes as you ducked off to the store, but now you were beginning to wonder if that was really the right call as room after room came up empty.

then finally, you found her, a sigh of relief and roll of your eyes at the sight of her.

"lia!" you called out with a chuckle, hovering in the back door as you watched her bend down with her beloved tongs, stuffing away the dead and dying leaves of an almost finished autumn.

"lia!" you yelled a little louder, her head turning and face lighting up as she pulled out one of her airpods and gave you an adorable wave. "you are back!" she cheered and you melted seeing the smile on her face as you nodded.

"and you are not relaxing." you laughed, crossing your arms as the midfielder stood and waved off your statement. "this is relaxing for me schatz." lia grinned cheekily as you hummed and raised an eyebrow.

"no, this stresses you out!" you challenged, having always found her affinity for a near immaculate back garden both endearing and a little concerning. "do i look stressed?" lia wiggled her eyebrows and snapped her tongs at you as you passed her.

"so this does not stress you out, this is relaxing for you? self care?" you questioned, lia freezing as you extended your arm upwards, hand wrapping around a branch and a slight smile on your lips.

"yes. what are you doing?" "nothing, just stretching." you yanked downward on the branch causing lia to inhale sharply and dozens of withering leaves to rain down, your girlfriends eye twitching.

"what is wrong baby? i thought you were relaxed." you called out, another yank and more leaves raining down as lia mumbled something and you watched the grip she had on her tongs tighten, eyes darting from leaf to leaf littering the ground between the two of you.

"see? this does not relax you lia. get back inside!" you laughed, pointing back into the house as the swiss woman scoffed and snapped her tongs at you, bending down again.

"inside wälti, now!" you marched on over to her, snatching her tongs as a weird squeak left her mouth and you hid them behind your back and out of her reach.

the brunette muttering in german how stubborn you were you sighed in relief when none the less she stood up and retreated back inside with one last longing look over her shoulder to her beloved garden as you closed the back door.

"on the sofa, go!" you pointed as the girl huffed but stomped away, and you heard her begin to rewind the film as you returned to the kitchen and hurried to put away your groceries.

however one little squeak of a floorboard had your head spinning and lia cursed as you appeared, catching her with a hand on the backdoor and a guilty smile in her features.

"just ten minutes?" "no lia, today is supposed to be stress free!" "then why do you seem so stressed liebling?" lia teased, a sharp look having her give up with a sigh, retreating back to the living room.

"if you don't sit down and relax i will tie you to the bed!" you yelled after her in warning from the kitchen, tensing up in surprise as a few seconds later arms wound around your torso and a nose tucked itself into your neck.

"god you are like a cat." you muttered at how silently she'd managed to sneak inside, a hum against your skin making you cringe as her hands snuck up the inside of your hoodie and a few gentle kisses trailed up your jaw.

"you know there are other ways to work out stress." "are there?" "mmm i can think of some." you felt her smile against you, hands settling on your hips and a few more strategically placed kisses before you spun around and gave in, your lips meeting hers as you exhaled contently into her mouth.

"so tying me to the bed...was that a threat or a promise?"

[p0orbaby]

May i request a fluffy chaotic blurb of lionesses teen reader who is from a championship team but is so good that she is called up to play for senior national team and also the reader has multiple offers from various teams , and the players pitch their own team to the reader to join them and it is a chaotic mess

Thank you

-

The dressing room is chaos. Full-on, wild-eyed, shouting-over-each-other chaos.

Your kit’s barely off, and you’re sitting on a bench trying to untangle your socks, when it begins. Millie Bright is the first to start.

“Listen, kid,” she says, arms folded across her chest, the captain aura fully activated. “Chelsea’s the only place for you. Champions League football. World-class facilities. Sonia Bompastor. Need I say more?”

From across the room, Ella Toone’s head snaps up, her water bottle mid-squeeze. “Millie, do you ever take a day off? Let the poor girl breathe, she’s not signing anything yet”

Millie ignores her, turning her gaze to you like this is a contract negotiation and she’s about to close the deal. “You want to win trophies, don’t you?”

Before you can reply, Ella’s already marched over, shoving Millie gently out of the way. “United, babe. That’s the real move. We’re on the up, big things happening, and,” she pauses dramatically, glancing around, “we actually have fun. You like fun, yeah?”

You blink, glancing at Leah, who’s perched on a nearby bench with her arms crossed and a smirk forming. She hasn’t joined in yet, but you can see the wheels turning. This is going to get worse before it gets better.

“City’s got the best facilities,” Lauren Hemp chimes in from the corner, casually lacing her boots. She doesn’t even look up, which somehow makes it more intimidating. “And we won’t hound you about it. Just saying”

“Oi!” Ella points a finger at Lauren. “That’s rich coming from you lot. Didn’t you literally FaceTime Keira on her holiday to beg her not to leave?”

“Allegedly,” Lauren says with a shrug, the picture of innocence.

“Arsenal,” Leah says finally, cutting through the chatter like a hot knife through butter. “Tradition, legacy, and the prettiest kits. No contest”

“That’s what you’re going with?” Millie retorts. “Kits?”

“Pretty kits,” Leah corrects, her smirk growing. “And me. Obviously”

“Desperate, Williamson,” Ella mutters under her breath.

You’re still sitting there, socks halfway off, trying not to combust. It’s overwhelming in the funniest, most surreal way. Like you’ve somehow wandered into a football-themed episode of a reality show where every contestant is aggressively charming and mildly competitive.

“Guys, chill,” you finally manage, holding up a hand. “I’m not deciding right now, alright? Let me just—figure out what’s happening first”

“Oh, take your time,” Keira Walsh says, strolling past and dropping her bag onto the bench. “But come to Barça. Better weather”

Georgia nearly falls off her seat laughing. “You’re not even in this league, Walshy. Sit down”

“I am sitting,” Keira deadpans.

The room descends into laughter and bickering again, and you realise something in that moment. It’s not just the offers, or the attention, or the surreal fact that this is your life now. It’s that you’re part of this—this weird, chaotic, beautiful family that’s adopted you overnight.

“Alright,” you say loudly, standing up and finally pulling your socks free. “I’ll think about it. All of it. But for now, someone tell me where the snacks are”

“Chelsea’s got better snacks,” Millie says immediately, earning a chorus of groans and a well-aimed towel to the head.