#thanks for the ask! this was a lot of fun to write up :)

[eupheme]

— double the pleasure, triple the fun

[part iii of come on and show me | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.6k

tags: MMF threesome, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, poly relationship, multi-tasking, the world's worst romantic porposition, oral sex, vaginal fingering, ass play (fingering & rimming), double penetration, creampies, fluff and feelings

a/n: massive thank you to the wonderfully talented @avocado-writing, who kindly beta'd this for me! 💖

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips. A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” Logan husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

(Or, your two becomes three.)

“God, I want him to put a baby in me.”

Wade’s sigh rumbles beneath your ear, where your head cradles against his chest. 

Legs entwined as you stretch out together on the couch - a late-night wind-down after your boyfriend spent the evening picking out his To-Do List at Sister Margaret's.

To kill. Not fuck, apparently. Something he was quick to clarify.

“What are you watching?” Your eyes pull away from your own phone - seventeen chapters into an enemies-to-lovers slow burn you haven’t been able to put down all evening. 

A little stretch, as your head tilts to face him - knuckles propped under your chin, “That video has been looping for like, ten minutes.”

“And yet, still not long enough,” He sighs, flashing the screen at you, “Sir Mix-a-Lot, you never miss.”

The video flickers, a quick and skillful transition of clips - your eyes squinting at the screen from your angle.

“Is that... Logan?”

“Close, baby girl.” His finger boops against your nose, “Huge Ackman.”

There’s a little shake of your head, as your shoulder lifts, “I don’t know who that is.”

“And thank god,” He grins, letting the phone drop onto the cushions. A shift, as his hands dips against the small of your back, “If you did, you would divorce me so fast-“

Your eyes roll, as you bite back a grin, “I wouldn’t.”

“Definitely, maybe.”

Wade grunts as you push yourself with a huff - head dipping to press your lips against his. A low swirl in your belly, as his eyes go soft and his smile goes dopey. 

“I love you, Wade Winston Wilson,” You grin back, “New fake boyfriends and all, apparently.”

He hums, head tilting.

“And what about not-so-fake boyfriends?”

Your brow furrows.

“You are talking about Logan now, right?”

Wade’s knuckles brush your cheek, the humor in his eyes turning searching, “What do you think?”

And what a question it is. 

You’ve talked about it often. The occasional partner had cycled in for a night or two, but there had never been someone that struck you both like Logan had, arriving in your lives like a storm of thunder and lightning.

And you can’t deny that there’s feelings. Obvious ones, apparently, with how you acted in the past. Wade was still teasing you about your jealousy - you never had a handle on that emotion in the way he did. 

That innate knowledge of how he felt about someone, trusted them. Flirting was easy, but you’ve seen the way he looks at Logan, too.

It was different. Special.

“Two musketeers becoming the full set,” He holds his fingers up in front of you, two and then three, “Only unlike them, we’re fucking.”

You let out a sound of dissent, with the lift of a shoulder. 

“Oh, worm?” His brow raises, “Guess Disney wasn’t ready for that, either. Dibs on the religious one, then. I am a man of the cloth.”

“It’s a bad analogy, there’s four of them.”

He chuckles indulgently, “Okay, now I think you’re making things up-“

Now it’s your hand reaching, a finger tapping against his lips.

“I’d like that. I think Logan being our… boyfriend-” The word sends a rush of heat to your face as you stutter over it, Wade’s eyes gleaming.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking cute.” He crows, “We’ve fucked nasty-style and you can’t even say boyfriend-”

Your face buried in his chest, his name a muffled whine. A beat as the laughter still rumbles in his chest, before you peek at him.

“Do you think he wants that, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wade hums, “That man is at least a 6 on the Yearning Richter scale. Felt by all, many frightened.”

You brighten at that prospect - your brain is already slipping ahead, “Do you think we should like, plan something? Ask him together?”

“Oh, don’t worry, gorgeous.” Wade grins.

“I’ll handle it.”

It's strange, seeing Logan in your space.

A good strange. A strange that feels nice - the subtle sweep of his eyes, as he takes in your apartment. The bag slung over his shoulder already tucked in your room, set on the ottoman at the foot of your bed.

He fits in, you think. Tucked into your couch as you put the finishing touches on dinner. Too used to being in their shared space at Wade’s. Of stolen moments when Althea was out. Hushed moments when she was home, muffled moans and bitten-back sighs.  

It will be nice to be able to take your time. 

They had arrived together, and there had been a certain thrill to that, too. 

Wade's knock that mimics the opening beats of "Smooth", before the door burst open. Funny to think about them crammed in a car together - they took Althea's, Wade tells you, when you later asked if they'd walked.

How he was already turning to you to referee, as you tip your head to kiss his cheek. 

"All I'm asking is if we're both sheathing our swords in the same scabbard, then why is he getting his panties in a twist about me putting my clothes in his bag?"

"Ignore him, sweetheart," Logan softens, leaning into the matching kiss you press against his jaw, "Been doing that for the last two months. It's good to see you."

And it is. Good to see both of them, something warm glowing bright in your chest.

The round table that always felt a little big for two feels perfect now - tucking between each other as dinner passes in a warm jumble of savory aromas and comfortable conversation. 

Smiling at the way they're both as engaged with your stories about your day, as you are about the work they've been doing together.

"-absolutely vaporized. It was disgusting, babe." Wade grimaces, "I was fine of course. Red, and all. But Lo here, eeugh. Still scrubbing the blood out of the nooks and crannies."

Logan makes a grunt of acknowledgement, "Had worse."

"Worse? Worse than getting gut-mist blasted across your chest?"

"I'll help, if you want." You offer, "Haven't seen your new suit yet."

At Wade's request, you try to keep out of his business - other than the stories he shares, the occasional repairs of his suit. Doesn't want his life mixing, not after what's happened in the past. 

Dutiful boyfriend by day, mercenary by night. And also sometimes, by day. Evenings, weekends.

It’s an unsteady schedule, but it's one you've grown accustomed to. Maybe that’s what helps make this easy, the way you’ve already adjusted to mutant-regenerative-boyfriend-life. 

But it doesn't mean you're not curious. That you don't appreciate certain aspects - especially when they come in tightly wrapped in leather and lycra. 

And when you eventually rise to collect dishes, it's Logan that beats you to it. A finger sternly pointed towards the couch, Wade's hand at your back - already guiding you towards it, as you protest.

"Least we can do, sweetheart," Logan smiles, "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."

"Excuse me," Wade gasps, as he slips on elbow-length mis-matched gloves,"Did my midnight toaster strudels mean nothing to you?"

It's your turn now, to sit on the couch. To watch, as Wade supervises. The quiet talk that swiftly turns to bickering. A yelp and a splash of hot water, before he's retreating.

Sinking down on the seat next to you, as your thoughts swirl. Soft memories of past shared evenings, and the planting of something that you’ll tend to carefully, hoping it will flourish. 

"You're looking at him like he's got balls on his neck," Wade’s arm slings around your shoulders, tone knowing, "Got something on your mind, gorgeous?"

Your nose wrinkles at the visual, but then you turn thoughtful.

"Just like seeing both of you here." Your smile is soft, "It feels right, you know?"

He hums in agreement, and you glance his way, "Do you feel that way too?"

"Feels as right as Ryan Reynolds playing me in my upcoming biopic."

That has you cocking an eyebrow - whatever reference he's making flying over your head, "And that's... good?"

"Yeah, baby." He grins.

"Really fucking good." 

The hunger follows you into the bedroom, after. Your question about dessert gets swiftly turned around on you - hands catching at your waist. 

Threats and promises  to devour you instead - that the ice cream you bought can wait - as lips press against yours. Another mouth at your neck, in your slow and often-interrupted journey to the bedroom. 

Ganging up on you again, almost as if it were planned. 

And you’re not sure if it was, or whether they’ve unconsciously become more in-sync, between their hours together at the apartment and in their work. 

More alike than they are different, at their core - something you’re not sure you’d be able to convince them of, even though you see it.

It’s sweetly familiar, when you finally fall into bed together. Clothes already stripped off, a messy pile mixing together against the woven floral rug as you fit together. 

Spit pools on Logan’s tongue, as he sucks on his teeth. A low tilt of his head before his lips are parting, letting it drop where he has your thighs nudged apart, belly pressed down against the bed.

Warm, where it hits the cleft of your ass. His hand follows - a broad palm curving against soft skin, tugging you open. 

“What do I have to do to let me have you here?” Logan’s thumb smears his spit against the tight ring, voice low and honey-smooth. 

It makes you jolt, a soft sound pulling from your throat. Squirming, as his thumb comes back - rolling the pad against you. 

“She, shit-” Wade groans, as your mouth leaves his cock - the tip glistening as it drops against his belly, “Only lets people she’s dating fuck her ass.”

“Wade!” You whine, as your thighs try to close - Logan’s spreading to keep you open. 

A low rasp of a laugh, “Is that right?”

“Not me though. If you’re curious.” Wade hums, his arm still slung under the pillow, “Sometimes even a first date is too slow.”

Dark eyes drag up, to the shift of hips. Over the leaking cock, lying flushed and hard against Wade’s belly - something like hunger in the slow sweep up to the pulled-wide grin.

“This is you handling it?” You hiss.

“You’re acting like the man invented the elevator.” Wade shrugs - shifting to push himself up on an elbow, “Trust me, there is nothing more romantic than a ‘what are we’ conversation slipped into a discussion about double penetration. We’re multi-tasking, gorgeous.”

Some of the tension eases, with the way he smiles at you. There’s not an ounce of worry in his expression, only the dark shadow of desire, highlighted with humor. 

Waiting until you smile back, before he fixes Logan with a pointed look. 

“Look. I’m gonna level with you,” He sighs, as if divulging something imperative, ”Until you’re ready to commit to being Mr. Y/L/N, then fifth base is just gonna be out of the question.”

There’s the shake of a head, a low huff behind you. The slight stroke of fingers against your skin.

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. As if putting pieces together. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips.

A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” He husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

A moan rips from you. First, from his words - the jolting butterflies in your belly, a pooling warmth. The sound lengthening, as his tongue flattens where his fingers had teased. Your back arches as Wade pumps his fist, before throwing a filthy “I-Told-You-So” smirk your way.

It glances off you. Your fingers curled in the sheets, as Logan shoulders your thighs further apart. A wet swipe that travels from your cunt to your hole, smearing your slick and his spit against your skin. 

A finger nudging against you, as Wade leans - hand fumbling for the handle of the bedside table. 

“You think you can take both of us?” Logan purrs, as he carefully works you open. A fingertip sinking inside you, as you whine. 

”What, you think we were joking about role-playing?” Wade scoffs,”Why did you think all the dinner knives were missing? Lost ‘em all beneath the bed.”

There’s a shuffle, as he works himself further beneath you. A bottle of lube dropped on the bedspread, as his fingers reach - petting against your clit.

“Tried two before, didn’t we gorgeous? Me and the Pulverine, as we call him.” Wade coos, “Not as big as you, of course. But definitely a lot more sparkly.” 

“Toy’s not the same thing,” Logan hums, as you clench around him. Sinking deeper, slowly pumping, “‘s gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

The sensations are already overwhelming. Wade’s fingers slipping down - fitting one, and then two fingers inside your slick pussy. His thumb nudging against your clit, teasing.

Logan’s weight against you, shifting as his hips grind into the mattress. The messy swirl of his tongue, more spit added to the mess. His thick finger already feels like a lot, pressed down to the knuckle. Slow in the way he works you open, the hot embers in your belly roaring brighter.

“I want it.” You moan, “Want both of you.” 

Wanted it for a while now. Wondered if they’d take you like this. If you’d be able to take them, stuffed so full you could barely draw breath. Wanting to know what it feels like to come, with both of them pressed to the hilt inside you. 

Words fail you, soon after. There’s the cold smear of lube against your skin, a second finger notched. Your cry muffled with the press of Wade’s lips, tilting your face to his as their fingers find their rhythm together.

That steady swirl against your clit. How you’re clenching around them, your arousal slick on Wade’s palm. The sharp rhythmic slap ringing through your ears as you pant into his mouth. Logan’s teeth against the soft curve of your ass, a muffled groan as he fits a second inside you. 

It’s a mimicry of later, but it’s enough. Something bright burning in your belly, fueled by their desire. Hot breath against your skin, Wade’s cock grinding into your hip. 

“Come on, gorgeous.” He murmurs against you, “Let me feel you come with his fingers buried in your ass.”

You choke on your moan. Hips shifting, pushing one deeper and then the other as you chase the building high. The sharp stretch long spooling into pleasure, twisting around your guts, shimmering. 

“‘m gonna-” It’s breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. Focused on the countdown  that’s begun inside you, swiftly approaching with each crook of their fingers, “Fuck, I’m-”

Logan shifts, his breath ghosting against your spine, “Come for us, sweetheart.”

For us. 

Your face buries against Wade’s shoulder, as they bring you over the edge together. Working in tandem to take you apart, and they haven’t even really begun - fingers crooking and curling as a bright pleasure blooms in your belly. 

Wade had been right - it’s not the first time you’ve been full like this. But Logan was right, too. It’s different - the way you can feel them move together, as you whine. The orgasm ripples through you, the sensations drawing out as kisses are dropped between your shoulder blades. 

Soft crooning in your ear, but it’s all muted - barely aware of the palms that run across your skin. The press of mouths against your heated skin - until the pulses in your core fades, the room coming back into focus. 

They slip from you - first Wade, and then Logan. You’ve felt empty before but never like this, already missing the weight inside you. Craving more.

There’s a shift on the bed, Logan shouldering himself next to Wade, who you’re still stretched out on. 

“C’mere, baby. Fuck, need to feel you.”

Hand at your hips, coaxing you up. Encouraging you to straddle his thighs, but then Wade is tsking - reaching for you, trying to turn you around.

“Annnd I just gave myself a promotion to Director,” He adds with a long-suffering sigh, “When you want something done right, gotta do it yourself.”

Logan growls, as your weight leaves him, “The fuck you talking about?”

Wade’s brow arches, “The fuck I’m talking about is you doing this all wrong, peanut. When was the last time you partook in the devil’s threeway? Was it this century, at least?”

Hand gentle as he guides you to face away from Logan, your ass settling against the cradle of his hips.

“There you go,” He coos, “How am I going to give your pretty little kitty the attention she deserves if you have her all hidden away?”

Logan’s hard cock nestles against your belly, as your knees press into the mattress. Breath hitching as you gauge the size of him again. Hoping that the prep he did was enough - the soft buzz beneath your skin certainly has you feeling more than ready.

Slicking your fingers with more lube before they wrap around his shaft - a rough hiss sliding from his throat as they circle around, squeezing. Smearing it against swollen flesh, thumbing over the leaking head as you line yourself up. 

Wade shifting to watch, his head tilted against Logan’s shoulder, his fist already wrapped around his cock as you start to slowly sink down. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart, there you go.” Logan growls, as he breaches you. 

A sharp, inhaled breath as the tip sinks inside you. The building pressure and then the give - as you try not to clench down.

Pulling a rough sound from him. Fingers twitching at your hips - set on only steadying you. A rough edge creeping into his soft encouragement, “Nice and easy, baby.”

Another inch, but it feels like double. Sweat beading along the nape of your neck, as you stretch around him.

“Doing so good,” He rasps, “Take it slow.”

“Taking it like a fucking champ, baby.” Wade interjects, “Couldn’t have done it better myself, and Levy knows how often I thought about it.”

Your nails bite into his thighs, but it only makes his hips flex. Twin moans when it nudges him the rest of the way - your breath stolen when he’s seated flush inside you.

Not that different than when Wade’s fucked you, even with the length he’s got on Logan. But it’s the girth that has your lips parting - a ragged moan with the experimental roll of your hips.

“Pretty fucking sight.” Logan groans, through gritted teeth. Palms slipping around, gently tugging you back towards his chest.

His growl low in your ear, as his hips lift in an experiment thrust.

“Gonna stuff you full, gonna let us do the work.” He husks, a hissed breath when you clench around him. “Make you feel good, alright?”

Palming at your tits, as Wade shifts into position. Swallowing your begging, whined out “please-” as he kisses down your throat. 

Over your breasts. The back of Logan’s hand, against the curve of your belly. His fist still working at his cock, an audible moan of appreciation when he settles between Logan’s thighs.

“You look so good full of him.” It’s mumbled out against your hip, “God, I want to jerk off to this and let you use my cum as lube.”

Logan’s fingers tighten - pinching a peaked nipple as you moan, as kisses are peppered against your mound.

“Fuck us into your tight ass.”

You cry out, when his tongue flattens against your clit. Fingers teasing at your hole, dipping inside to test how full you feel. 

“Soaking wet, baby. You feeling good?” Wade croons, “Or does your greedy little pussy need more?”

“Wade,” You keen, desperate. Rocking into the slow pump of Logan’s hips, his breath harsh in your ear.

His fingers crook, and curl.

“You want us to take you there and back again to pound town?” 

“I swear to god,” You pant, desperate, “If you don’t get inside me, I’ll-, I’ll call Nate.”

His eyes gleam, “That right? Still thinking about riding the ol’ Cable car?”

It’s Logan’s added growl that finally gets him moving. A smile still pulling wide, as he slips from you. His own desperation betrayed by the wet smear against his belly.

The slick tip of his cock, as he ruts against your folds. Your breath held, as he notches himself.

His dark eyes on your blown-wide ones, as he starts to sink in. It has your thighs trembling, as you whine. Clenching down without meaning to, as Logan groans.

Feeling the way he inches into you. What little space left filled as your pussy makes room for him. The tight clutch of your walls, a moan at the way he can feel Logan through the thin layer of skin between them.

A choked-out moan punched from his chest. 

“Made to take us both. Weren’t you, gorgeous?” He murmurs, as his hips move, “Goddamn perfect fit.”

They both move inside you. Stilted thrusts, off rhythm as you squirm between them. Logan getting impatient - throwing a glare Wade’s way.

“Stop moving when I do.”

It’s met with a laugh, as Wade’s hip snap a little harder. Filling you, the force jolting you against Logan, as your nails bite into his biceps.

“I’m driving this thing.” He counters, “Call me Sandra Bullock, because I’m not about to let this bus dip below 50.”

His hand catching Logan’s wrist - resistance when he tugs, but then it’s going with him. Fitting the curve of his fingers against the base of your throat.

“You do what you do best and be the anchor. Keep her still for me, will you?” 

Logan’s fingers flex, but he grunts - the slightest pressure against your chest. 

A pat against your hip, with a wink, “Let Daddypool do all the work.”

You huff, but the sound turns strangled as the sets the pace. Hands at your hips, tugging you to meet his thrusts. Fucking you back on to Logan, when his weight presses into you.

“There we fucking go. How you feeling, baby?”

“Feels so good,”You gasp, as the movement gets familiar. The slick slide of them inside you, the back and forth as they stroke your walls, as your arousal gleams against their cocks. 

“Know it does.” Wade grins, “They don’t call me DP for nothing.”

Logan grunts beneath you. Something biting held back - distracted, as his other hand wanders. Slipping across your hip, then down.

Tracing over your mound. Feather-light against your folds, feeling how you stretch open each time Wade goes balls-deep. 

Your moan coming out ragged, when he teases your clit. Soft strokes with the pad of his finger, before two press and circle.

It makes you jolt, his laugh low in your ear.

Finding that familiar rhythm. Feeling the way your hips flex, seeking out his touch. How easily he’s able to wind you up now, from the times he’s taken you apart. 

How it’s almost overwhelming, with the stuffed-full pressure of them inside you. With the saw of Wade’s hips, as his cock nudges against the spongy spot inside you.

A rough hum when you clench down. Unable to do more than take what he gives you, with the way Logan cradles you against his chest.

It only adds to the surge of pleasure inside you. A near-divine pairing of sensations that has your fingers reaching, Wade’s name a soft cry on your lips. 

He flattens against you, to meet the way your mouth tips up. It’s messy, open-mouthed as his hips slow to a grind. Hands skating up your body, against hips and waist.

Letting him in when he deepens it. A groan as he licks against your teeth. Needy presses of his mouth, spit smeared across your lips when it breaks. Another kiss  peppered against your jaw, where Logan groans into your ear. 

A unconscious shift of his head, and then their lips are brushing.

Logan’s cock throbs inside you, as Wade goes stiff and still. It’s softer than it should be - no more than a shared breath, before Wade pulls back. 

The hand at your neck flexes. Loosens, as it slips between you. Wrapping around the back of Wade’s neck as he yanks him back down.

A growled out “fuck” when they meet again, insistant this time. Vicious with the scrape of teeth, the wet swipe of tongue as Logan’s nails bite into skin.

Messy, as they pant into each other's mouths. Calloused fingers drifting down from your clit to split against your folds. Teasing where you’re filled, as Wade’s moan turns filthy.

A matching sound escaping from Logan, long held back. 

“Fucking holding out on me,” Wade mumbles, when the kiss breaks, “Haven’t been this wet since Cap’s beard reveal.”

Eyes dark, when he feels how Logan moves inside you. Forgetting himself, as he chases the pleasure that threatens to peak inside him.

“Bet you love knowing you’ve been in all of our girl’s holes. Don’t you, handsome?” Wade grins. Eyes still watchful - catching the clench of a jaw, as his lips return to yours.

The kiss is sweeter this time, even as he begins to drive into you. Each of your breaths coming in a whining gasp, pleasure once again winding inside you.

His mouth running away from him, determined to send you both over, ”Should let me into some of yours. You know I’d treat you right.”

“Shut the fuck up. C-Can’t come with you running your mouth.” It’s panted out - half-hearted at best, and Wade’s eyes gleam.

“Fucking liar.” He crows, “Bet you jerk it all the time to the thought of us screaming your name.”

Voice pitches up then, in a mimicry of yours, “Oh, Logan. Fuck me right there with your monster dick-”

Logan strings tight beneath you with a snarl, as he tries to bury himself in your ass. The hand at your neck dipping to grasp at your hip, as the practiced rhythm turns sloppy.

Wade shifts - his weight leaned into your hips. Pinning you both down as he fucks into you, stroke after stroke.  

Logan’s touch is sloppy against your clit - but with the way your boyfriend’s cock pounds against that spot inside you, it’s enough.

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering. The way their names string together, the “please, please, please-” that catches in your throat.  

“You gonna come too, baby?” He coos - thrilled, “You’re both so fucking easy, aren’t you?”

Logan moans in your ear when you squeeze around him, fingers pressing harder. A little faster, and with the next plunge of Wade’s cock - you shatter. 

It’s all white noise, the faded star stickers on the ceiling becoming swirling the sky above as you’re pulled under. 

Helpless, with the way you’re pinned between them. Coming again with the tight swirls against your clit, with them fully sheathed inside you. 

The tight pulse of your orgasm around his sends Logan over. 

Even with Wade’s weight his hips still lift as he bows off the bed. A wounded groan, as he comes with you clenching down around him. Grinding himself into your hole as his cock throbs, emptying himself into you. 

There’s a sing-songed and muted “money shot” that has you groaning. Half-exasperation, half-mindless pleasure, as Logan’s hands roam. Holding you against him, ragged breath against your neck as you milk him empty.

Keeping you stuffed full, hilting his cock deeper when you squirm. Leaving Wade to catch up.

Shameless in the way he watches now, as molten pleasure thrums in your veins. Leaning back to see how you take them both. Picturing how you’ll look after, thoroughly-fucked holes that will drip with them until morning. 

Doesn’t notice when his breath turns short, but you do. 

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” You coo, your smile soft and pleasure-drunk. 

Hands tracing over his, overlapping and squeezing. The shallow lift of your hips to meet his thrusts, purposely squeezing him when he inches out - trying to keep him in.

“Make a fucking mess, Red.” Logan growls - joining you, “Let me feel you come inside her.”

“Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ,” The rough laugh turns into a groan, “Think I’m going to blow two loads at once-”

Hands overlapping, grasping on, holding you, as his hips pump faster. Head tipping - fitting between yours and Logans - as his back bows. 

Coming inside you with a muttered out “oh fuck. fuck yes-”, cock jerking with each needy rut of his hips. The sound turns into a whine when teeth sink his neck, hard enough to bruise. 

Yours on the other side, your soft moan in his ear as you feel the way he throbs as he spills into you again, and again. 

Intense, in a way you’ve never felt before. A connection that loops through you - from the press of your mouths, down to where you fit together. 

It’s fortunate that Logan’s hands still fit at your hips, with how fucked-out and boneless you feel. Trading one cock for another was one thing, but this - being claimed by both of them, the phantom ache as Logan withdraws- it’s something else entirely. 

Your head dropping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you wait for your pulse to stop galloping. Logan’s nose ghosting against your temple, an arm still thrown around your hips. 

A hiss, when Wade slips from you. You can feel the mess they’ve made, sticky against your thighs. How they drip from your fucked-out holes, when you clench around nothing. 

It must do something to him, the way Wade moans when he sits back. Fingers raising - mimicking a camera, complete with the click of his tongue as the shutter. 

“If that doesn’t win me an academy award,” He hums thoughtfully.

“Then I don’t know what the fuck will.”

Time slows down, after. The low hum of artificial rain from a device on your dresser, layering with the muted city outside. Doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours since he last moved, and he really can’t bring himself to care.

As long as it’s still dark, then he knows they’ve still got time. 

“So are you going to bake us a sex cake?” Wade yawns, “You know, for completely rocking your shit.”

“A what?” You stir against him - an eye cracking open. 

Logan grunts, his face buried in your shoulder. A hand splayed across your belly, a tug as he pulls you closer.

“Oh my god,” Wade chuckles to himself, “There I go, mixing up timelines again. I infinitely prefer this one, but the way.”

Logan lets the two of you bicker, his eyes slipping shut again. 

Your apartment is quieter than Wade’s. The bed comparable to the one they shared last time. Can’t remember the last time he’s felt a warmth like this. 

Soft, where your back tucks against his chest. His hand shifts to your hip, curving against soft flesh. Wade’s hand rests close enough to touch, fingers just brushing. Facing you, thighs twined together as he sandwiches you between them.

The shower had been nicer, as well. Snug, when you had pulled them in with you. Taking turns under the warm spray. He had commented on it - a way to drag out the scratch of fingers through his hair. The swirl of soap against his skin, and he had been too blissed out to bother with the facade when a second set of hands grabbed his ass. 

Staying just a little longer, as their hands found their way between your thighs. Wade thumbing at your clit as his own fingers fucked the cum deeper into your cunt. Twin marks sucked into your neck, as your legs threatened to give out - still shaky from before.

You stir against him. Words heavy with sleep.

“Wade didn’t say it earlier.” You yawn - shuffling, so you can help over to face him. 

Logan’s brow rises, as you clarify.

“There’s a caveat to our earlier question.”

“Good word choice.” Wade hums, “11 points, and I bet you were a real pleasure to have in class.”

A low chuckle, when your hips press back against his in warning - as your eyes flip up to Logan’s. 

“It’s a two-for-one deal,” The corner of your lips tug up, “It’s both of us, or nothing.”

“All for one, and one for all,” Wade’s chin hooks over your shoulder, ignoring how you elbow him, “And can you really afford not to take that?”

Supposes it’s cute, that you think you have to tell him this. That his eyes haven’t equally wandered, even if it’s only half-admitted. Too caught on wondering if the only something good he had will change, if he truly allows himself to want something. 

That it’s not only the feeling of your mouths on his cock that he revisits, though he does think of that often.

There’s other moments as well. Squeezing hands and smiles and the way you both look at him. The toothbrush that you had ready tonight, just incase he forgot his. The handle blue, when he slipped it in the cup - tucked next to red and purple.

Your words still spark brightly in his chest, settling low behind his ribs. It quells an uneasy twist that’s been lingering there for the past few weeks. 

Something unsteady, finally finding purchase. 

“Don’t know why you’re clarifying though, gorgeous.” His cheek rubs against yours like a cat. Those brown eyes meet his as well, and it’s hard to bite back the low inhale of breath.

“Considering he tongue-fucked the shit out of me earlier, I think he’s good.”

He huffs in reply, but he can’t bite back the curve of his lips. Not anymore - and he finds that he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Logan agrees. That something turning soft inside him, the smile pulling just a little wider. 

“I’m good.”

thanks so much for reading!! 💖 there's a couple more moments I'd love to explore with them in the future! (but in case I'm not able to, I wanted to end it on this sweet note between them all. )

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[lyneira]

Hi! May I please request headcanons for how the Toji, Choso, Gojo, and Nanami would react to his gn crush kissing him because they're so in love with him? Thank you!

Headcanons of Toji, Choso, Gojo, and Nanami's reactions after their s/o kisses them passionately out of nowhere

Toji, Choso, Gojo, and Nanami (separately) x reader

fluff with some spice!

a/n: I changed the prompt a bit in which the reader is already in an established relationship with the characters rather than being their crush. I misread your ask the first time I read it and only understood what you meant when I had finally finished writing. So sorry anon, I hope this is okay anyway! 😭

TOJI

He'd chuckle, "Well, aren't you such a sweetheart?", before grabbing your chin and kissing you back, full-force.

He'd find it so endearing that you loved him greatly. Surely, he'd show you how much he felt for you as well.

You'll see it in the way his eyes glint dangerously at you, like a predator ready to capture his prey, as he kisses you relentlessly.

You'll hear it in the way he lowly hums with delight into your lips with each kiss.

You'll taste it in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring every part of it before dancing with yours.

You'll feel it in the way his other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer to firmly press his body up against yours. You'll feel something in particular begin to press up against you too.

Through all this, Toji would hope that you at least understand one important thing - You can't kiss him without expecting it to get steamy ;)

CHOSO

He's as over the moon for you as you are for him. He'll kiss you back with the same intensity, if not more.

Choso will never hold back in terms of expressing his love for you. So when you openly and freely express your love for him, it brings his heart so much joy that he could cry. (and no doubt he would)

He'd cup your cheeks and smother your face with kisses, each kiss holding tons of affection. (His adoration for you would grow tenfold if you would do the same)

In general, with Choso, once you show him even an ounce of affection, he'll never hesitate to give it back. If you two continue to reciprocate each other's affections, then it'll be a long night of giving each other love and much more~

GOJO

I could imagine he'd grin, "Oh, you're too cute, Y/N. C'mere", and pounce on you with a big kiss.

Sure, he might be used to being fawned over and being the object of others' affection, but he doesn't take any affection from you for granted. You're special to him, after all. He'll love any gesture of affection from you the most and will always show his appreciation for it in fun-loving ways.

So I think he'd be the type to continue kissing you playfully: leaving light kisses on your lips, down your neck, around your collarbone, and maybe even further down, all while keeping his hands on your hips to ensure you're grounded underneath him. His firm grip on your hips was his way of telling you that he isn't letting you go any time soon.

Anyway, you'll end up finding quite a lot of love-bites all over your body, also in the most intimate places, once he's done with you.

NANAMI

He'd probably get caught off guard from the sudden gesture of affection.

Yet, in that moment, he'd feel at peace. Looking at your smiling face full of happiness and seeing your beautiful eyes shine with love and adoration staring back into his own couldn't bring him more joy.

Knowing that there's someone who loves him this much warms his heart and soothes his mind. Especially after a long day from work, he's incredibly grateful that you're the one he can come home to.

He'll wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in closely while keeping his gaze upon you, his eyes so gentle as he admires your visage.

"I love you", he'll whisper with a soft smile before going in for a kiss.

As he kisses you back, you'll feel the passion he has for you in his lips, claiming them over and over again as he embraces you tighter.

Your hearts would be so close to one another's, and each heartbeat would be his vow to protect you, the most precious thing on earth to him, with all his might.

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! Congrats on 7K, and happy late birthday!

I would love to req an apple pie with Spencer (the way you write him is soooOOO cute) and ²⁸⁾ dark lipstick smeared on a cheek, possibly also along with ¹⁴⁾ laddered tights if it makes sense to you, but just the first one is ofc totally cool <3

Thank you for all the fics, the way you write is so so gorgeous and gives me a lot of comfort

Thank you angel!! I'm glad to have you here :)

cw: mention (implied mention?) of alcohol

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 578 words

Spencer finds you on the floor below his. You’re standing dejectedly outside a closed door with your arms folded across your chest. 

“Hi,” he says. 

You turn, your mouth falling open in surprise and glee. “Spence!” You start walking to meet him. “I was just talking to you on the phone!” 

“I know you were.” He accepts the hug you offer him. You smell like the lotion you use before going out, and it overpowers the smell of bar. “You were upset I wasn’t coming to the door.” 

“Yeah, because you weren’t.” You seem to remember your upset now, pulling away so you can frown at him. 

Spencer tucks away his smile. “I don’t live here, honey. I’m one floor up.” 

Your gaze moves away from his face, your brows furrowing. “Oh.” 

“But I can take you back there now,” he offers. 

Any trace of a frown vanishes. You’re simpering up at him. “Spencer Reid,” you say in a voice like honey, “you wanna take me back to your place?” 

“I—uh, isn’t that why you came here?” 

“No, it is.” You bite your lip, trying and failing to tamp down your grin. “It just sounds extra fun when you say it.” 

“If you say so.” Spencer laughs, and it comes out sounding more awkward than he would’ve liked. 

Your smile softens. You put your hand in his, letting him lead you back to the elevator. Your touch feels warm and sure. 

“Did you have a good time out?” he asks, pressing the button for his floor with a knuckle and then using his thumb to wipe at a bit of lipstick that’s smeared onto your cheek. Clearly at some point during your night out you’d forgotten you were wearing makeup. There’s also a long tear stretching up from the knee of your tights. 

“Yeah,” you reply, your cheek dimpling under his touch. Spencer lowers his hand, and you watch it go. “I missed you, though.” 

“I’m glad you came over. Did someone give you a ride here?” 

“No, I walked.” You’re still watching his hand. Spencer thinks about putting it back on your face, even though he has no excuse to anymore. Maybe you need two points of contact. 

“I would have come and gotten you,” he says. 

“I like walking. The air felt nice. It’s getting cooler out at night.” 

“Yeah, it is nice.” You’re close enough that he can reach down and lightly graze your laddered tights with his fingers. It’s a chaste tough, just above your knee, but still you shiver as if the chill outside has followed you in. 

The elevator dings. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say as he lets you into his apartment. He didn’t lock the door for the short trip downstairs, though he knows several members of his team would have something to say about it if they knew. “Maybe tomorrow we can go for coffee or something. Let me get you a hot drink to celebrate the cool weather, and to say thank you.” 

“You can stay here anytime,” Spencer says, just to know that you’ve heard him say it. It’s not the first time he has. He watches you go straight for the bedroom, for the drawer in his closet where your pajamas are kept. “But coffee would be good, yeah, if—if you still want to tomorrow.” 

You laugh, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Of course I’ll still want to. I always want to.”

[sophrosynesworld]

Vogue

Prohero! Dynamight x Supermodel! Reader

Not really edited. No plot, just fluff.

“We’re just waiting for the car. It should be here any minute,” you hum into the phone, leaning casually against the kitchen island. The elegant outfit you’re wearing—a thoughtful gift from your in-laws—hugs your figure perfectly. The Bakugo's were ecstatic when Katsuki told them their daughter-in-law would be gracing the cover of Vogue.

The sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs echoes through the house, followed by your husband’s voice calling out to you. You straighten up, pressing a finger to your lips to signal for him to keep quiet. His eyes narrow in annoyance as you turn your back on him, trying to refocus on your conversation with Momo.

“I’ll talk to his parents and see how they feel about that,” you say, struggling to concentrate as strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Soft, peppery kisses trail along your neck, you squirm, attempting to pull away, but your husband’s grip tightens.

“The car’s here! Gotta go, bye!” you squeak, hurriedly ending the call as his lips continue their relentless assault on your senses.

You twist in his embrace, playfully pushing him away. “You're worse than a puppy.” you tease, crinkling your nose.

He smirks, pulling you closer to him again. “I'm no puppy.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he tilts his head. “Have you seen my bite?”

“It's not worse than your bark.” you counter, looping your arms around his neck. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt my call?”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “I'm not sure we should go out tonight." A confused look crosses your face while his fingers trace light patterns on your back. “You look way to good baby. Seriously, I think it's safer this way.”

You laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “You say that every time we go out. Do you want me to change?”

“Fuck no.” he mumbles before kissing you, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay? You seemed stressed on the phone.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating his concern. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind with the shoot and all these meetings. Momo’s trying to help me but it's just alot."

His arms tighten around you. “Can I do anything to help?"

“No,” you smile softly, shaking your head. “I just want to go out and have some fun."

His expression shifts, disbelief crossing his face, as if he can’t believe you’d underestimate him like that. If you asked for the moon, he’d find a way to pull it from the sky for you.

“Fun?” he scoffs. “Tonight’s going to be the best night of your life, idiot.”

“I know,” you say softly, leaning in to kiss him again. “Thank you.”

Author's Note: I haven’t felt much inspiration to write lately, and I’m not really in love with what I’ve produced. But I don’t hate this. I like to imagine this moment takes place while you're getting ready for a nice dinner date or perhaps even a runway show that his parents are hosting.

[thebramblewood]

this is in a similar vein to an ask you got recently but do you have any tips for those who are interested in sims 4 (or even other games like ts3 and ts2) storytelling? I write fanfiction but I think making sims 4 stories could be a fun venture. Anyway, thank you for your time! I love your stories so very much they're literally my hyperfixation!

Well, that makes two of us because it's literally my hyperfixation. I think I've shared bits of advice before, so some of this might sound familiar, but here are some things I think are important to remember (and I tried to be concise, I swear).

Write the story you want to write. Obviously, it's a great feeling when something takes off and people get invested. But if you pursue an idea only because you think Simblr will like it, you probably won't be inspired for long and it'll probably show. I've been very lucky with my story, but it didn't blow up overnight. Early on, I was thrilled to get double digit notes or one reblog or comment and was admittedly disappointed when I put a lot of effort into something and nobody seemed to notice. But I kept going because I was obsessed and wanted to see it through, and that's more true now than ever.

Start with low stakes and allow yourself to evolve. Before I was on Simblr, I made Sims stories with no poses or visual enhancements or fancy editing. I wrote them for myself, and I loved every minute of it, but they also gave me a solid foundation for the kind of storytelling I do now. Even after starting this blog, I eased myself into it. I learned how to use poses and Reshade, then moved on to more advanced editing techniques, then moved on to teaching myself to make poses and very basic CC. If you try to learn it all at once, you're more likely to give up because you're overwhelmed. Take your time and make peace with the fact that perfection isn't possible. Everyone's always learning!

Take advantage of the fact that Sims is a game. Even though I've been a creative writer for most of my life, I don't come up with fully-fleshed, elaborate Sims stories from scratch. It started off with my legacy and not wanting every generation to feel the same. I thought about gameplay I hadn't experienced yet and centered each generation's story around that. Even with HZID, I just wanted to make and play with vampires! That's it! Initially, I used a lot of gameplay to convey Helena's college experiences, and I still try to incorporate it when I can. It can really be a great base to spark your creativity if you don't know where to start.

Don't have a life outside your story. I'm joking. Kind of. I'm not a very social person and I don't like leaving my house if I don't have to. This leaves me with a lot of time for working on story things. Honestly, I could probably stand to work on it less. But for better or worse, I'm doing story-related things most nights and weekends, and even if I'm not doing anything, I'm thinking about it. It's probably mental illness, but we'll just call it passion. At the same time, it's also important to take breaks! If you're feeling burnt out, step away for a while. If you can't make yourself step away completely (raises hand), just edit the script or spin your blorbos around in CAS or something rather than going straight for posing a scene.

Follow and interact with other storytellers. This is probably the most important thing, and as someone who struggles with social anxiety it was the hardest for me to do. But I try to make a point of keeping up with other stories, commenting, and reblogging. Not only will the amazing talent of other writers inspire you, but you're building meaningful connections that make them more likely to want to interact with your story. There's no denying it feels amazing to watch your audience grow. But no one's going to see you if you don't make an effort to be seen, as scary as it can be. So try to be active in the community and support other storytellers the way you want to be supported!

[strawb3rrystar]

Imagine if you did hc for the bay boys with a partner who is just “one sheep, two sheep, cow, duck, pig, old McDonald had a farm, HEY MACARENA” in a bottle, like the human spirit of adhd

Ive been missing your tmnt writing 🥲

ADHD in a bottle.

Pairing: Bayverse! Turtles x GN! Reader

Warnings: None, not proofread

Word count: 444

✰Masterlist

Leonardo

✰ Leo has been micro managing his brother his entire life, so he's kinda used to it by now

✰ Especially since you started dating

✰ He is a hundred percent used to your antics

✰ In the back of his head he's always remembering where and when you put stuff down

✰ Will listen to you ramble while you guys cuddle

✰ Always has an eye on you even he has his shell to you

✰ Making sure you drink lots of water and tries to take you outside to get some sun as often as he can

✰ Yall are reading comic books a 2am and giggling

✰ Makes to do lists and leaves them on the nightstand for you

✰ Tons of sticky notes with random messages are on his walls

Raphael

✰ Big tough guy meets ADHD partner

✰ Convinces himself that you act like Mikey (but less annoying)

✰ Will pull you into his lap if he senses you're overstimulated

✰ Yall will lose things together because you forgot where you put it and he forgot to write it down

✰ Doesn't want you wandering around in the sewers alone

✰ Makes you watch him train and sometimes uses you in the workouts

✰ Picks you up and carries you around without you asking

✰ Absolutly loves giving you shell rides even if he acts like he hates it

✰ Gets into your interests so he can better understand it

✰ Builds pillow forts with you!

Donatello

✰ Autism x ADHD

✰ Yall are rambunctious together

✰ You under analyse while Donnie over analyses everything

✰ Doesn't exactly trust you with the tools, but he'll let you help around in his lab

✰ Will bounce ideas off you

✰ Every surface is covered in sticky notes

✰ Both of you forget to sleep

✰ Has a calendar on the wall, but believes that technology is more helpful

✰ Yall will have full on debates over your shared special interest

✰ But they always end in cuddles

Michelangelo

✰ Uh oh... ADHD x2

✰ The rest of the household already believed that Mikey was annoying

✰ But now there's two of you (it's just double the fun!)

✰ Random stuff is being left around the sewers everywhere

✰ Stacks of pizza boxes because both of you refuse to clean

✰ Playing video games on old ass consoles

✰ Reading comic books and telling jokes until you pass out in each others arms

✰ Trying to train but getting so absorbed into a conversation you simply don't

✰ Exploring the sewers for fun

✰ Best chemistry you could ask for

Star's notes -> I've been on such a writing high recently and I don't want to come down

(Thank you @footninja for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @raphaelsqueen @mamaemoemu @sleebykei @thejudiciousneurotic @looking4userthatworks

@toast-on-dandelioms @alexandria-fandom @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @sweetadonisbutbetter

@little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @theweepingvulcan91 @boogeysmoth @kipxer

@spongejuice @blood-heart22 @myamythos @ghoul-with-a-gun  @facelessfionna

@skankyynerd | Join the taglist

[urdreamydoodles]

Love your works!!!! And I love Mr. Pickles!!!

May I ask for headcanons if reader dies in their arms?

Asking for: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Piotr Rasputin, Beast, and Illyana Rasputin

No pressure ofc!!! Thank you!!

And have I mentioned that I fucking love your works?!?!

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You die in their arms (Part.1)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Colossus, Hank McCoy & Magik

First of all, thank you for this message, you are my first request and you have no idea how much it touches me. And secondly, your compliments make me blush, I'm glad you like my work, because personally I've never had as much fun as writing about something as this. Get ready for a LOT of headcanons because I have a lot in store. Above all, don't hesitate to ask for other requests <3 And thanks to you, you inspired me to make your request for other X-Men and X-Women. PS: MR. PICKLES WILL RETURN

Emma Frost

The battlefield was littered with chaos—explosions, screams, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. You and Emma had been fighting alongside the X-Men, as you had countless times before, but this time was different. This battle had been brutal, and even though you had faced danger before, nothing had ever felt this dire. You had always fought by her side, both of you in sync, but as the fight raged on, you felt your strength starting to wane.

Emma’s voice was sharp and commanding in your mind, as always. “Stay with me, darling. We’re almost through this,” she had said, her mental link giving you strength. But when the blast came—one you hadn’t seen coming—it sent you flying, the pain immediate and overwhelming. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your side, feeling the warmth of your own blood seeping through your fingers.

Emma’s scream tore through the battlefield, her telepathic wail so fierce it silenced everyone for a moment. In the next second, she was at your side, her diamond form shimmering as she knelt down, her hands trembling as they reached for you. The moment her fingers touched your skin, her diamond exterior shattered, leaving her vulnerable in a way she never was on the battlefield.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no... this can’t be happening."

You struggled to stay conscious, your vision blurring as you looked up at her, the love of your life, her face twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," you choked out, each word a struggle. "I tried... I really tried."

Tears fell from her eyes, something she rarely allowed herself to do. She pressed her forehead against yours, her voice shaking. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not yet. I won’t let you go."

But you could feel it. The life slipping away, your heartbeat growing fainter. You reached up weakly, your hand brushing against her cheek. "Emma... I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Emma’s breath hitched as she gripped your hand, holding onto you as if her sheer willpower could keep you alive. "I love you too," she whispered back, her lips brushing your forehead. "Please... please stay."

But you couldn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body growing still in her arms.

For a moment, Emma just sat there, her mind refusing to accept what had just happened. Then, with a heart-wrenching scream, she unleashed a wave of telepathic energy so powerful that it swept across the battlefield, knocking down enemies, sending shockwaves through everyone’s minds. She cradled your body, her chest heaving with sobs, her mind desperate, reaching out to you, trying to find any trace of your consciousness.

But you were gone.

And for the first time in her life, Emma Frost felt utterly, completely broken.

Charles Xavier

The fight had been relentless, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, the battle had taken a terrible toll. You had always been the calm in Charles’ storm, the grounding presence he could rely on when the weight of leading the X-Men grew too heavy. But today, everything had gone wrong. You had been separated from the team, cornered by enemies, and though you fought bravely, you had been wounded—badly.

By the time Charles found you, the world had already started fading around the edges. He wheeled towards you with a speed and desperation you had never seen in him before. His voice echoed in your mind, trembling with fear. *"Y/N, hold on. Please, just hold on."*

You could barely open your eyes, the pain in your body making it difficult to even breathe. But you heard him, and you smiled weakly, your heart aching as you felt his mind reaching for yours, trying to steady you, trying to keep you present. "I’m sorry, Charles," you rasped, your voice so faint it barely carried over the sounds of battle. "I wasn’t strong enough."

"No," Charles said, his voice firm, though you could hear the fear beneath it. "You are strong. You’ve always been strong. Don’t leave me, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

You felt his hand grasp yours, his grip trembling. You had always marveled at how Charles carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, always keeping his emotions tightly controlled. But now, there was no control. There was only fear, and love, and desperation in his eyes.

"You were always my strength, Charles," you whispered, your hand squeezing his as best as you could. "I love you. So much."

Tears filled his eyes, his voice breaking as he spoke. "And I love you. You are everything to me."

You could feel his mind wrapping around yours, trying to hold you there, trying to stop the inevitable. He was begging, pleading with you to stay, to fight, but your body was failing. You felt the warmth of his love in your mind, a comfort even as the world started slipping away.

"Please, Y/N," Charles whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, don’t leave me."

But you couldn’t hold on any longer. The pain faded, the world grew silent, and your grip on his hand loosened.

Charles sat there, his hand still holding yours, as the battlefield around him seemed to blur into nothing. His heart shattered, and in that moment, all the strength and control he had maintained for years crumbled. He lowered his head, his tears falling onto your lifeless body, and he sent out a silent scream, a wave of raw emotion so powerful that it resonated across the minds of every living person on the battlefield.

Charles had lost many people in his life. But losing you felt like the end of everything.

Jean Grey

The battle had taken its toll, not just on the X-Men but on the world itself. You and Jean had fought side by side, your powers complementing each other in ways that made you an unstoppable force. But this battle had pushed you both beyond your limits. You had been caught in an explosion, your body thrown against the rubble, the pain blinding and all-consuming.

Jean was at your side in an instant, her telekinetic powers lifting the debris off you, her hands trembling as she reached for you. "No... no, no, no," she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled your head in her lap. "Y/N, stay with me."

You could barely keep your eyes open, the world spinning as you struggled to breathe. "Jean..." you whispered, your voice so weak, so broken. "I... I don’t think I can..."

"Don’t you dare say that," Jean said, her voice fierce but laced with panic. "You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you go."

You could feel her mind reaching out to yours, wrapping around your consciousness, trying to keep you there with her. Her love flooded your mind, a warmth that soothed the pain, but you could feel your body slipping away, your strength fading.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand weakly reaching for hers. "I’m so sorry."

Jean’s tears fell onto your face as she held you closer. "Don’t apologize," she said, her voice breaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve always been there for me. Please... just stay a little longer."

You could see the anguish in her eyes, feel the desperation in her mind as she tried to hold on to you. But the pain was too much, and your body was failing.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you too," Jean said, her voice shaking as she pressed her forehead against yours, her tears falling freely now. "Please... don’t leave me."

But you were slipping away, the world growing darker, quieter, as you took your last breath. Jean’s sobs echoed in your fading consciousness, her mind screaming out for you, trying to pull you back. But it was too late.

Jean held your lifeless body in her arms, her chest heaving with sobs. She let out a scream, a psychic wave that shattered the air around her, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Her grief, her agony, her love—they all collided in that moment, her powers surging uncontrollably as she held onto you, unable to let go.

In that moment, Jean Grey—one of the most powerful beings in the universe—felt utterly powerless.

Colossus

The battle was at its peak, and the sounds of war echoed around you. Explosions rocked the battlefield as Colossus, in his full metal form, fought valiantly beside you. His towering figure was always a source of comfort, an indestructible wall between you and the chaos. The ground shook beneath your feet as you moved to join him, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

But then, an enemy blast caught you off guard, the impact throwing you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the pain immediate and overwhelming. Blood seeped from your wounds as you struggled to breathe, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to respond. The sound of heavy metal footsteps reached your ears, and you knew Piotr had seen you fall.

His metallic form glimmered in the firelight as he ran toward you, his eyes wide with terror. You had never seen him like this, even in the most dangerous situations. He dropped to his knees beside you, the cold steel of his hands cradling you gently despite their immense strength.

"Y/N!" His voice was thick with fear, a sound you'd never thought you'd hear from someone as powerful as him. "Please, no. Not you. Not like this."

You tried to smile, but the pain was too much. "Piotr..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... I can't..."

He shook his head, his metal features twisting in agony. "Don’t speak. I’ll protect you," he promised, though the pain in his voice told you he knew there was nothing he could do. He tried to stem the flow of blood from your wound, his massive hands shaking.

His metal body was usually unyielding, but now he seemed so vulnerable, so afraid. He held you close, his cold arms pulling you against his chest. "Stay with me, please," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His entire body trembled as he struggled to maintain control.

Your hand reached up weakly to touch his face, the cool metal of his cheek sending a shiver through your fingers. "I love you," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as darkness closed in around you.

He let out a sob, his steel form shuddering with grief. "I love you more than anything, Y/N. You’re everything to me."

But it was too late. Your breath faded, and your hand slipped from his cheek, falling limply to the ground. Piotr let out a roar of anguish, his voice reverberating across the battlefield. He held your lifeless body close, his tears mingling with the blood and dirt that stained your skin. Even in his indestructible form, he felt more broken than ever before.

Magik

The battle had spiraled out of control, and you found yourself separated from the rest of the X-Men, the air thick with smoke and the sound of clashing metal. You had always admired Illyana’s ability to remain calm in the face of chaos, but this time, the situation was different. The enemies were relentless, and no matter how hard you fought, it wasn’t enough. Then, out of nowhere, a blade struck you, piercing through your side, and you collapsed to the ground.

Before you could even cry out, the world around you warped, and you found yourself in Limbo. Illyana stood before you, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the sight of your bloodied body. “No...” she whispered, her sword clattering to the ground as she rushed to your side.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming, your vision flickering in and out of focus. Illyana’s hands shook as she pressed them against your wound, trying to stop the blood that poured out of you. “I’ll fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can fix this.”

You had always known that Illyana was powerful beyond measure, but in this moment, she looked small, fragile, as though she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. She stared down at you, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she knelt beside you, her hands glowing with the dark magic of Limbo.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. “Not like this.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left, your hand brushing against her cheek. “Illyana,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love you too, more than anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

But you could feel your life slipping away, the pain becoming numb as the darkness closed in. You wanted to stay, to hold on, but it was too late. Your hand fell limp in hers, your chest rising for the last time as your heart stopped.

Illyana let out a scream that echoed through the very fabric of Limbo, a sound so filled with grief and fury that it sent shockwaves through the demonic realm. Her magic surged uncontrollably, her power crackling through the air as she cradled your lifeless body in her arms. In her rage, the demons of Limbo cowered, the sky itself trembling in fear.

But no amount of power could bring you back, and that realization shattered her. She held onto you, her tears falling onto your skin, whispering your name over and over again as the world around her grew dark, consumed by her grief.

Hank McCoy

The battlefield had turned into a warzone of destruction, and even though you and Hank had fought together many times before, this battle was unlike any you had experienced. You had always admired how composed and intellectual Hank was, even in the most dire of situations. But this time, the enemy had been too quick, too brutal, and before you could react, you had been struck by a powerful blast.

Your body hit the ground hard, pain shooting through you as you struggled to breathe. Blood spilled from the wound in your chest, and every breath felt like a mountain weighing down on you. Through the haze of pain, you heard Hank’s voice, panicked and desperate, something you had never heard from him before.

“Y/N!” He shouted, rushing toward you, his blue fur standing on end as he dropped to his knees beside you. His large hands were gentle as he cradled your head in his lap, his eyes wide with terror as he took in the sight of your injuries. “No, no, this can’t be happening.”

You tried to smile up at him, but the pain was too much. “I’m sorry, Hank,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Shh,” he said, his voice shaking. He pressed his hand to your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. His eyes were filled with panic, his normally calm and collected demeanor completely gone. “You’ll be alright. Just stay with me.”

You could feel the life draining from you, the world growing darker around the edges. You reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

Hank’s eyes filled with tears, something you had never seen from him before. “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” he said, his voice breaking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling onto your face. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”

You wanted to stay, to hold on, but your body was failing, your heart slowing with every passing second. You looked up at him one last time, your vision blurring as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And then, everything went dark.

Hank let out a strangled sob, his entire body trembling as he held you close. His mind raced, trying to think of a solution, something that could bring you back, but he knew it was too late. You were gone, and nothing could change that.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding your lifeless body in his arms, his tears falling freely as he whispered your name. The battlefield raged on around him, but for Hank, the world had stopped. You were gone, and with you, a part of him had died too.

[ryuichirou]

Who would bathe with their lover and who wouldn’t? If they would, would they prefer baths, bubble baths, or showers?

I wanted to start by saying that I really appreciate everyone’s supportive messages, thank you for your asks! I’ll get to them later, I need some breathing time.

And thank you, Anon, for this ask as well! It’s kind of perfect for today because I wanted to talk about something more lighthearted and fun. Sorry for making you wait, as always.

What I learned while writing this post is that I can picture pretty much everyone in a bathtub with their lover lol I should keep in mind that “would” and “should” are different things, aaah…!! How come I never draw this kind of scenario..? Anyways!

Riddle – I think this is a secret wish of his that is so secret that even he isn’t quite aware of it. Vulnerability, comfort, relaxation – all of those things would be very good for Riddle! Plus, he never normally has bubble baths, and he would probably be very cutely excited about it. But if you asked him, he would be against it – sounds like a waste of time and water to him, not to mention how inappropriate it is.

Ace – he finds the idea too embarrassing, but he still might end up sharing a bubble bath with certain someone at some point… while complaining about how lame it is and also blushing lol In general though, I think he would prefer to do it in a shower.

Deuce – he would be even more embarrassed than Ace because he never imagined himself in a “bathing with someone” scenario. He would also prefer to do it in a shower, but he would still be super embarrassed the entire time. I think he and Ace are the type of boys to stand together awkwardly until someone (usually Ace) acknowledges the elephant in the room.

Trey – he would, and he probably fantasises about having a bath with Riddle. But he is more into the whole washing routine than in lying in a bubble bath, cuddling and playing in the water… Trey would rub his back, wash his hair, maybe even clean his ears, maybe even… brush… teet-

Cater – he loves the idea, so in theory, he would! He finds it romantic, hot, fun And surprisingly magicammable; even though when he does take a picture, he probably is going to feel like he wants to keep those private… for a couple of weeks, and then he’ll add them to one of his “what I did this month” compilations~

Leona – kinda? He wouldn’t mind if his lover washed him, I think. He would fall asleep in a bathtub while getting his back rubbed and ears massaged, but whenever he would wake up, he would complain about this thing (a bathtub, it’s called a bathtub) being too small for two of them, and how this was a stupid idea.

Ruggie – he would also consider it a waste of time and water, but if he is getting paid to wash someone- Ruggie, this isn’t about you and your lover anymore! Anyways. I think he wouldn’t mind having a quickie in a shower because this is actually both fun and efficient!

Jack – another one who is too embarrassed, but also he probably would feel kind of claustrophobic in a bathtub with someone else. He should do it though, imagine him getting comments about his tail looking 5 times less floofy when its wet omg. In general though, I think he is a part of the shower squad. It’s too easy to picture him with Deuce after their club activities…

Azul – weirdly, I think he would, but he needs to be very close with that person. I think despite always doing 1000 things at once and having a lot of plans, Azul enjoys long baths, and it’s kind of his “me” time that he treasures. But he would also share it with Idia, for example… he would actually force Idia into doing something like this once lol

Jade – both of the tweels prefer pools because staying in water for a long time without actually swimming feels very weird, and with Jade specifically, I think he isn’t super into bathing with someone. He wouldn’t mind sitting by the bathtub and taking care of someone for shits and giggles, pretending to be a butler of sorts you know, but this would probably just a part of the bigger game Jade would be playing in his head.

Floyd – like I already said, he prefers something bigger and comfier than a bathtub (for his subjective eel self), but unlike Jade, I can picture Floyd sharing a bathtub with someone more easily. I think he would be more into all the stuff that comes with it: bubbles, a ducky toy… He would be more into the bath itself than into his partner, wouldn’t he? I guess that defeats the purpose lol He would also splash around so much that his partner (very likely Riddle) would start yelling at him, and then Floyd would get some soap in his eye and it will sour his mood forever because it hurts… Doesn’t sound like a fun time for some reason wow

Kalim – technically, he’s been doing it all the time ever since he was a kid! Jamil very often accompanies him whenever he takes a bath and, of course, does a lot of back rubbing, hair washing and other stuff for him. They don’t do it as often as they used to nowadays, but Kalim loves it whenever they get to do it: he always considered bathing together to be like a playtime, but at the same time, cherished moments together with your favourite person.

Jamil – while he probably shares soooome small percentage of nostalgia for this kind of thing, for the majority of time he considers this to be another manifestation of their unequal status, which is ironic because this is the opposite to how Kalim feels about them bathing together. He also loves his own privacy, so in theory he would say “NO”  to something like this. But let’s be honest, it’s very deeply engraved in his brain… he would.

Vil – would on a rare occasion whenever he wants to treat himself and his lover. Bath salts, candles, quiet music, sparkling wine; he would put a lot of effort in creating a perfect atmosphere for relaxing with his man. He knows it’s cliché and he knows it’s cheesy, but sometimes a thing becomes a cliché because it genuinely makes you feel good, okay?

Rook – of course he would. It’s not his go-to usually, but he would never refuse an invitation + he prepared a couple of bubbly baths for this exact purpose in his life. Sometimes he creates bath bombs and different kinds of salts during his science club activities; because you know this is exactly what the rest of the science club members need: to hear him singing about how he is about to take a bath with Vil or something.

Epel – I think he would refuse because he would consider it embarrassing (wow, are all freshmen too shy to take a bubble bath with someone?), buuut once he’s in, he’s in! He’ll pout for exactly 5 seconds, and then he’ll get super into it and start splashing around and giggling. Who are you trying to fool, Epel? You’re clearly into this lol

Idia – wouldn’t; it sounds like a nightmare to him. He doesn’t like spending more than ~a minute for anything shower-related anyways, god bless super powerful S.T.Y.X. showers! And standing/sitting there with his naked boney ass with someone else..? This is just the worst case scenario. Who does he think he is, a BL protag? A romcom hero? I will stop this rant because otherwise the rest of the post will just be Idia’s 1000 reasons to never bathe or take shower with someone. Azul doesn’t agree with you, Idia.

Ortho – he would and he really really really really wants to!! He is working on a gear that is perfect for that! But if we’re talking about real!Ortho, the answer is still yes: he is nostalgic about the time he used to take baths with Idia together and they spent over an hour playing with mecha toys and ships and stuff. He will use this nostalgia talk to pressure Idia into doing it with him again, even though this time he clearly isn’t interested in sinking little robots and plastic ships.

Lilia – another person with a nostalgia… even though bathing with a loved one isn’t really his style, he would still get super excited about bubble baths. He would add so much of this stuff that there would be not a single centimeter of space that is not covered in bubbles. Everything will be so foamy and white and sweet smelling, and his lover won’t be able to find Lilia… Only if he listens to where his laughter is coming from very carefully… It’s hard to tell whether it’s a romantic thing for Lilia or is he just being childish at this point.

Silver – in theory he would, but he would get concerned that he’ll fall asleep. He doesn’t like long baths because they always make him very drowsy. This is why he would probably prefer a shower, but a short and cold one to keep himself awake, so… um… not very romantic? I guess he needs another person to guide him and wake him up from time to time for this to work.

Sebek – aaaand another freshman that is way too embarrassed to even think about it, but this one is so embarrassed that he’d get ANGRY if someone even suggested this! Of course, he did share a shower with Silver a couple of times, but there was nothing sexual going on! And this 100% isn’t some kind of cope because he kept staring at him..! Jokes aside, I think he would do it if he was really into someone, because he finds water a very pleasant addition to an already pleasant thing. And of COURSE if Malleus invites him to do something like this, he would die of happiness and agree immediately; this isn’t even a question.

Malleus – I think he would enjoy something similar to what Vil is doing, but he wouldn’t prepare it himself. He prefers to just waltz in and see how his lover already did everything: the bath, the water, the salts, the bubbles, the music, the refreshments, all those things. But also, even though Malleus is a spoiled prince, he doesn’t necessarily need all those bells and whistles – just plain water with nothing else but his lover’s body would suffice because what he really craves is bonding and intimacy. He has some precious memories of being with Lilia like this, but it was a looong time ago. Nowadays Lilia just says that both of them wouldn’t fit in a tub… Then fill a pool with bubbles, Lilia.

[grayhyacinth]

Hey! Can I request a Dipper x reader where reader was actually with Ford in the portal. Like four years before the portal is reopened Ford finds this little girl in a dimension where nothing exists it's just a white void. No time passes, your body doesn't age, just nothing. He found her took her out and she basically became his apprentice. When the portal is reopened Ford isn't quite sure what it is so he tells her not to follow him and he'll check it out. She goes in anyways but ends but coming out of the portal in the basement if the shack four years in the past. So the portal is unfinished and no one's there except Stan in the other side of the glass like "wtf??".

Stand takes in reader and she ends up spending the whole summer with the twins and gets a little crush on Dipper. When he finds the journal and is talking about the author reader doesn't tell him anything she knows because she's like "I could literally destroy the space time continuum, I'm not even suppose to exist in this world". So when Ford finally comes through Dippers like "Why didn't you tell me anything???" And now Dipper has like a bigillion questions for her about the universe.

Mostly fluff if you can!

Sorry if that's like, waaayyyyyy to much backstory and not a lot of an actual prompt but I really like your writing!🩷 Keep up the good work and take care of yourself🩷🩷

Okay so, I had like no idea how to write this. But, I hope you like my attempt! I had a lot of fun envisioning scenes between Dipper and (Y/n), especially when she steals the book. I feel like this could be better written between 3-4 chapters, but a short story is also endearing. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request! I really appreciate your wishes and support <3!

“A… child?”

You tilt your head in curiosity. This is the first time you've encountered a creature so strikingly similar to yourself. You extend a cautious hand toward him, and then poked his cheek.

The man recoils, pushing you back with surprising force and inching away in the empty white abyss. “Wh– Who are you?!” His voice quivers with fear, but his eyes are resolute, filled with a determination that intrigues you.

You crouch low, mimicking the posture of a wary creature, wide eyes locked onto his. You give a soft, inquisitive chirp, the sound escaping your lips almost instinctively.

“What… are you doing?”

The foreign sounds coming from his mouth are almost incomprehensible to you. So instead of attempting to make sense of his speech, you focus on conveying your intent through gestures and expressions. You raises a hand, palm up, a universal gesture of peace, and then exhale as if to say, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

He seems to understand your intent. His eyes soften with relief.

You notice his body language betrays a lack of hostility. He continues to stare at you, clearly curious upon who or what you were. The cold, combined with the lack of cushioning beneath you, only adds to the sense of unease.

A low rumble interrupts the silence. The man’s stomach growls loudly, and he looks down with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness, instinctively hugging his stomach as if to silence it.

You rise unsteadily. With a slight wobble, you began walking towards him, curious as to what that sound was.

“What are you…?” He stammers again, confusion twisting in your chest. The man brushes off your curiosity, poking at his own stomach with a slight frown.

“Stop that!” He snaps, surprising even yourself. The command hangs in the air, making him pause.

For a moment, silence wraps around you both, and you study the contours of his face—strange, yet familiar. You notice the way the light catches in his hair, the softness in his expression.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, and the question feels heavy, filled with possibility.

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at you expectantly. You tilt your head, trying to grasp the meaning behind his movements. His hands move again, sweeping wide as if to show you a world beyond the void. He points to himself, then to you, and smiles, nodding as if to say, together. You feel a flutter of intrigue, but confusion lingers in your mind.

“Somewhere that isn’t here,” he replies, a hint of a smile flickering across his lips. “Somewhere with colors, and sounds… and maybe even a bit of adventure.”

You tilt your head, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. His eyes sparkle, filled with encouragement.

You nod.

His smile widens, and he reaches out, offering his hand. You grasp it, feeling the warmth radiate between you. With a gentle tug, he leads you forward, and the void begins to shimmer. Suddenly, a portal appears and at the other end is a wide horizon of the morning sun. You smile as the warm sun rays hit your skin.

As weeks go by, the man you met introduces himself as Stanford Pines. With each passing day, the bond between you grows stronger, and the initial awkwardness fades into a comfortable routine. Stanford, or Ford as he often prefers to be called, becomes a regular presence in your life.

Ford takes it upon himself to teach you the language of his universe. He is patient and persistent, using simple phrases and gestures to help you grasp the basics. Interestingly enough, he discovers that you lack a name. So he takes it upon himself to name you (Y/n) (L/n).

Each lesson is accompanied with lively stories from his travels across the multiverse. One evening, as the two of you sit by a makeshift fire you’ve managed to start with limited resources, Ford recounts a particularly thrilling tale. His voice takes on a dramatic tone as he describes a showdown with a mischievous entity that could control time itself.

“There we were,” Ford narrates, his hands illustrating the battle in the air, “Locked in a high-stakes chess game with a creature who could manipulate time. Every move we made, every strategy we devised, was countered by the whims of this trickster’s temporal powers. It was like trying to play chess while the board kept shifting!”

You listen with rapt attention, your eyes wide as you imagine the scene he’s painting. Ford’s expressive storytelling brings the experience to life, and you can almost see the strange creature and feel the tension of the game.

As the weeks turn into months, your role evolves from a mere helper to an apprentice in Ford's eyes. Under his guidance, you learn more than just his language; you become versed in the complexities of multiversal travel, and the nuances of interdimensional physics. Ford's teachings go beyond theory; you actively participate in his missions.

It’s during these missions that you begin to understand the true gravity of Ford’s work and the dangers that accompany it. One evening, as you both rest from a particularly challenging excursion, Ford opens up a piece from his past—Bill Cipher.

“Bill Cipher is no ordinary entity,” Ford explains, his tone grave. “He’s a being of pure chaos, a demon who thrives on destruction and disorder. He’s caused havoc across countless worlds, manipulating events and people to his advantage.” He takes a deep breath, a distant look in his eyes. “You have to be careful, (Y/n).”

As the stars gave away to the rays of the morning sun in Universe 323, you awoke to the soft hum of the portal generator filling the room. The familiar sound that usually signified exploration now felt ominous. A swirling vortex of colors began to materialize, casting an eerie, pulsating glow that illuminated the room in shifting hues. The light played across Ford’s face, and the warmth and affection you had grown accustomed to were replaced with a grim frown.

Ford abruptly stood up, his usually calm demeanor replaced with an urgent seriousness that made your heart sink. He turned to you, his expression a stark contrast to the warmth you were used to. “Listen, I… It’s been fun, (Y/n).” His hands grasped your shoulders tightly, his grip firm yet filled with concern. “This portal is almost identical to the one I made back in my universe. But, it could be dangerous. You need to stay here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, cutting you off. “No arguments. It’s too risky. I can’t afford to have you put yourself in harm’s way.”

His words were firm, yet the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. You could see how much he cared, how deeply he was troubled by the potential dangers. Despite his insistence, a stubborn resolve settled within you. You had faced countless challenges together, and the thought of being left behind while he ventured into potential danger was unbearable.

“No way, Ford,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “I’m not staying here. Whatever it is, whatever dangers lie ahead, I’m coming with you.”

Ford’s eyes widened in frustration and disbelief. “(Y/n), this isn’t a game. You don’t understand—”

“But I do understand,” you interrupted, stepping closer, your determination unwavering. “I understand that we’re a team. I’ve been with you through thick and thin, and I’m not going to let you face whatever’s out there alone.”

Ford takes a deep breath, and then he steps closer to the portal, the light reflecting off his face in strange, mesmerizing patterns. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He runs head first into the portal, leaving you behind.

You watch with horror as he steps forward, his silhouette dissolving into the swirling portal. The vortex’s colors shift and warp, pulling him into its depths. As the portal’s edge begins to close, you make a split-second decision.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you dart toward the portal. You hesitate only briefly, watching as the portal’s edges start to shrink. You can’t bear the thought of being left behind while Ford faces unknown dangers alone. Summoning every ounce of courage, you leap forward just as the portal starts to close.

In a rush of cold air and blinding light, you are pulled into the vortex. The world around you blurs into a whirl of colors and sensations. The portal swirls and twists, the reality bending and folding as you travel through the fabric of dimensions.

Suddenly, you find yourself stumbling onto solid ground, the portal closing behind you with a final, shimmering snap. You look around, disoriented.

As you regain your bearings, you find yourself in a basement. The room is dimly lit, with a musty smell of old wood and a clutter of odd contraptions. You glance around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The walls are bare, and the floor is covered with intricate wires that lead to a fallen portal. A large glass-paneled door catches your eye, covered in grime but revealing a faint outline of movement on the other side.

You hear a muffled voice and a rustling sound from beyond the glass. Curiosity piqued, you move closer, wiping some of the dust away to get a better view. As the glass clears, you see a young man in his late teens on the other side, his face a picture of bewilderment and curiosity. He looks familiar, almost like… Ford?

“What the—?” The identical twin’s voice is muffled but clear, full of confusion. “Who are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. This is a significant moment, and you can’t quite believe your situation. His gaze is locked on you, and he looks ready to bolt.

You raise your hands in a gesture of peace, trying to convey that you mean no harm. “I’m—”

“Hold on, who are you and where’s Poindexter?!” Stanley interrupts, his eyes darting around.

You hesitate, trying to figure out the best way to explain your presence. “Uh… Hi,” you begin, raising your hands in a calming gesture. “My name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I came in through that… portal.” You glance behind you and point to the triangle contraption.

He blinks, his confusion deepening as he studies the portal and then looks back at you. “No. That doesn’t make sense. I just… flicked a switch and my brother was suppose to come through. Not some… child?!”

You glance at the chaotic mess of wires and blinking lights surrounding the portal, noting the flaws that must have caused this unexpected shift in reality. “I think something went wrong,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Stanley’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’? You don’t even know what you’re doing here!” His tone is sharper, but beneath the surface, you can sense a flicker of worry.

You take a cautious step forward, keeping your hands raised to ease the tension. “I just… came through. I didn’t choose this.” You point back at the portal again, hoping he’ll see that you’re just as confused as he is. “I’m not… him, but maybe I’m connected to him somehow. I can help you figure this out.”

The identical twin’s skepticism is evident, but curiosity seems to win out. “Alright, let’s say I believe you’re not here to cause trouble. How are you going to help me?”

You take a deep breath, carefully choosing your words. “The portal, as you can see, is unstable. I need to fix it and recalibrate it so I can get back to where I came from. But to do that, I need some tools and parts—and a place to stay for the time being…”

You spot a familiar journal with six fingers and decide to use it to your advantage. ”That journal over there, for example—it looks like it could be significant.”

His eyes follow your gaze, and he approaches the journal with caution. “That’s my brother’s old journal. He’s got a bunch of weird notes and sketches in there.”

As he opens the journal, you can see the pages filled with cryptic notes and strange symbols. Your heart races, but you maintain your composure. This is your chance to gather information and possibly find a way back to your own time.

“Well,” He mumbles, “I guess I can show you around and see if we can find what you’re looking for. But remember, if you’re here on some wild goose chase, you’re going to have to explain yourself.”

You nod, relieved to have gained his trust, at least for now. “I understand. Thank you for your help.”

Four years have flown by in the blink of an eye. You’re now twelve years old, teetering on the brink of adolescence, and life at the Mystery Shack has become a second home. The young man who once introduced himself as Stanley Pines has taken on the identity of Stanford Pines—his brother’s name. Though you still call him Stanford, you’ve grown to understand the complexities of his dual life. Ford, the man you originally met, is still trapped somewhere in the multiverse, but you’re confident that your understanding of his research will eventually lead you to him.

The summer sun casts a warm glow over the Mystery Shack, and the air is filled with the usual hum of activity. You’re busy organizing some of the newer additions to the shop’s odd collection when the sound of laughter and excited voices reaches your ears. You look up and see a young boy and girl standing at the entrance, their faces lit with curiosity and excitement.

Stanford had an arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. “(Y/n)! I’d like for you to meet my great niece and nephew”

The young girl, with her bright purple sweater and an exuberant smile, bounces on her toes. “Hi! I’m Mabel, and this is my brother, Dipper. We’re here for the summer!”

The boy, slightly more reserved but with an inquisitive gaze, gives a polite nod. “I’m Dipper. We heard a lot about this place and thought we’d check it out.”

You watch from a distance, noting the genuine curiosity in their eyes. Mabel’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Dipper’s serious demeanor suggests a keen interest in the mysteries of the Shack.

Stanford’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Well, you’ve come to the right place! The Shack is full of oddities and secrets. How about a tour?”

As Stanford leads them around, you decide to introduce yourself, keen to make a good impression. You approach with a friendly wave. “Hi there! I’m (Y/n). I help out around here.”

Mabel’s eyes widened with interest. “Nice to meet you, (Y/n)! What’s your favorite part of the Shack?”

You think for a moment, remembering all the strange moments. “It’s hard to pick just one thing. But I’d say the most interesting part was the time Stanford tried to use a gadget from a TV ad to make his hair grow back? Let’s just say it ended up giving him a ‘special’ new look—like he was auditioning for a role in a Bigfoot documentary!”

Dipper chuckles lightly, his  eyes wide with curiosity. “What did you look like?”

You laugh, trying to contain your amusement. “Let’s just say, for a while there, Stanford had enough hair to start his own wig-making business. It was like someone mixed a Sasquatch with a tumbleweed.”

Stanford, catching your comment, coughs awkwardly and blushes slightly. He quickly grabs Mabel and Dipper by their shoulders and steers them out of the gift shop and through the door leading into the main part of the house. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, let’s get back to showing you the real wonders of the Shack.”

As he leads the twins away, Stanford turns back towards you and shoots you a look, his two fingers making a playful pointing gesture. “And remember, no more jokes unless you want to end up as the next mess cleanup crew.”

Just like that, the entertaining summer began. You never thought you’d get attach to these people, but, it seems like they were slowly wiggling their way into your heart. It was then, during one lazy afternoon at the Mystery Shack, with the sun streaming through the windows, casting warm, golden rays across the cozy living room. Stanford was busy showing off some new exhibits to illicit cash from naive tourists, and Mabel had disappeared into one of her craft projects, leaving you and Dipper to your own activities.

You were lounging on the old, well-worn couch, flipping through a magazine. Dipper, on the other hand, was on the floor, surrounded by a mountain of books and notes. He had a stack of papers in front of him.

“Hey, Dipper,” you said softly, setting the magazine aside and stretching your arms above your head. “You look like you’re about to solve the mysteries of the universe over there.”

After a while, Dipper looked up and noticed you watching him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes before speaking. “Yeah, I might be trying to do just that. Do you think you could help me out with something? I’m trying to figure out this ancient code, and I could use a second set of eyes.”

You smiled and joined him on the floor, settling beside him. As you turned your attention to the sprawled-out notes and journal, you couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes and the ink stains on the side of his hand. “Rough night?”

Dipper gave a sheepish grin. “You could say that. I’ve been at this for hours…”

You glanced at the ancient code, then at Dipper. “ Is this important enough to look like a zombie? I’m starting to think the real mystery is how you manage to stay awake with those bags under your eyes.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Okay, okay, I get it! Maybe I should take a break… but only if you help me crack this code first!”

As you both leaned over the papers, you felt Dipper’s soft hair gently brush against your head. The scent of pine trees filled your senses. It was a subtle, intimate moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a warm flutter in your chest.

Dipper, oblivious to the effect he was having, was intently focused on the notes. He occasionally mumbled to himself, his brow furrowed in concentration. “If we align these symbols with the constellation map from the journal...”

You glanced at the stack of papers and noticed one of the journals—Journal 3. The sight made you freeze momentarily, as you recognized it from the work you had been doing to repair the portal. You realized that Dipper was working on a section related to the portal.

A sinking feeling washed over you. If you helped him decode the ancient symbols, it could potentially disrupt the space-time continuum, especially since you technically weren’t supposed to exist or intervene in this timeline.

You blink.

Suddenly struck with the idea that perhaps he could use a break to clear his mind. “Hey, Dipper,” you said softly, nudging him out of his intense focus. “We’ve been at this for a while. How about we take a break and do something fun? You know, just to clear our heads?”

Dipper looked up, surprised but visibly relieved. “A break? I guess that sounds like a good idea. I could use a breather.”

You smiled, feeling a bit adventurous. “Great! I was thinking we could go grab some ice cream. It’s a beautiful day outside, and I think it’d be nice to get some fresh air.”

Dipper’s eyes brightened, and he quickly started to gather up the notes and close the journal. “Umm.. okay. Ice cream sounds awesome.”

The walk to the nearby ice cream stand was filled with easy conversation and laughter. The sun-kissed air and the lively chatter of the small town around you created a relaxed, almost date-like atmosphere.

“I can’t resist,” you said, grinning. “I’m getting the triple scoop sundae.”

Dipper chuckled, his usual enthusiasm for adventure replaced with a casual ease. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll just get a cone. Can’t go wrong with classic vanilla.”

You waited while the vendor scooped your sundae, and then you both settled on a nearby bench. You took a bite of your ice cream, letting the rich, cold flavor melt on your tongue.

“Want a taste?” you asked, holding out the spoon to Dipper, who was licking his cone with a satisfied smile.

He hesitated, looking at the spoon as if it were some kind of test. “Uh, sure. I guess I could try some.”

You watched as he nervously leaned closer, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that matched the evening sky. He took a tiny lick, his eyes widening slightly at the burst of flavor.

“Not bad,” he admitted. A hint of pink highlights his cheeks.

A playful idea crossed your mind. You grinned, extending the spoon further toward him. “How about you give it a proper taste?”

Dipper’s face turned even redder in surprise and embarrassment. “You want me to…?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying to suppress a giggle. “Yeah, go ahead. It’s just ice cream.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the spoon, then back up to you. With a shy but determined look, he finally leaned in and gently took the spoon into his mouth. His lips brushed against the spoon, and you noticed the way his eyes fluttered shut for a split second, savoring the taste.

As he pulled back, he looked up at you, his nervous expression seeming a bit more relaxed in relief. “That’s actually really good,” he said, managing a small, shy smile.

You chuckled, the playful moment filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. But as you watched him, something else bubbled up inside you. It wasn’t just the sweetness of the ice cream that made your heart race—it was the way Dipper had looked at you.

Realization dawned on you. The way he smiled, the blush on his cheeks, and the way he seemed so genuine and kind—it all made you feel something deeper than just friendship. You liked him. Maybe more than just a little.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. “I’m glad you liked it,” you said softly, trying to sound nonchalant.

Dipper’s eyes met yours, and for a brief, electric moment, it felt like you were both on the edge of something new and exciting. “Thanks for sharing,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

This little moment shared between the two of you, became something you cherished deeply. Every time you hung out with Dipper, after this, you’d find ways to spend more time with him. Even as he began to idolize a special author close to his heart.

A couple weeks later, the Mystery Shack was quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that made every creak and rustle seem louder than it really was. Dipper was in the backyard, engrossed in a game with Mabel and Waddles. You, however, had a different plan in mind.

You’d noticed Dipper’s Journal 3 resting on the coffee table in the living room earlier—a tantalizing opportunity to steal it for yourself. You were almost done. You were so close to reuniting Stanford and Stanley, hopefully even introducing Stanford to Dipper. You just needed this last book.

Moving quietly, you crept towards the table, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced with excitement as you reached out and gently lifted the journal. It was heavier than you expected, filled with the weight of countless adventures and Dipper’s personal notes.

Just as you were about to retreat with your prize, you heard a faint rustle. Dipper’s head poked through the open window, his eyes scanning the room. You froze, hiding the journal behind your back and holding your breath.

Dipper’s gaze landed on the coffee table, then slowly shifted around the room. “Hey, have you seen my journal? I could have sworn I left it here…”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it upstairs with the other stuff?”

Dipper looked skeptical but nodded, stepping inside.in that split second, you knew you had to act. You shuffled to the couch, tucking the journal away behind the cushions.

The moment he entered the room. His eyes wandered around the room, coming closer to where you were standing. You shifted slightly, trying to stay out of his line of sight. Every step he took, closer to you, you’d shuffle away. Your hands were tucked suspiciously behind you.

Your movements were far from graceful, and the effort made you giggle.

Dipper eyed you cautiously. “What’s so funny?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You tried to maintain your composure, but your voice wavered. “Nothing, nothing,” you managed to say, your smile widening despite your best efforts.

Dipper tilted his head in curiosity. “I’m going to find it,” he declared with a playful smirk, taking a few steps closer. The soft glow of the room’s light cast a warm hue on his cheeks, making his blush even more endearing.

Suddenly, he reached behind you, and you felt his fingers brush against yours as he grabbed your empty hands. The touch was brief but electric, sending a shiver up your spine. In the sudden motion, you stumbled, causing Dipper to lose his balance.

He tripped over your feet and went crashing to the ground, landing on top of you with a surprised yelp.

As you lay there, with Dipper on top of you, the room seemed to swirl around in a hazy mix of laughter and warmth. Dipper’s surprised yelp melted into an awkward chuckle, and his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. You found yourself caught between bursts of laughter and the sweet fluttering in your chest.

Dipper tried to push himself up, but his hands were still resting on your sides, and every movement only further tangled up your limbs together. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, as well as the genuine concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, your laughter subsiding into a gentle smile. “I’m fine. Are you?” you teased.

He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on yours. There was a moment of silence, a suspended breath where the world outside seemed to pause. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, his tone laced with an affectionate warmth. “Hey, (Y/n)—”

The sound of voices and clumsy footsteps grew louder. Suddenly, Mabel and Waddles burst into the room, their energy a stark contrast to the cozy moment you had just shared.

“Dipper, Dipper!” Mabel called out excitedly. “Waddles and I are ready for the next round of our game! We need you out here!”

Waddles squealed happily, adding to the commotion. Dipper glanced at you, reluctance in his eyes. “Looks like I’m being summoned,” he said, chuckling as Mabel and Waddles dragged him towards the door.

“Don’t be long!” Mabel called over her shoulder, already heading back outside with Waddles trotting beside her. “We’ve got a big adventure planned!”

Dipper gave you a final, playful smile before being pulled out into the backyard. As the door closed behind them, you were left alone in the quiet room once more.

You took a deep breath, savoring the peaceful moment. It was go time. With the coast clear, you hurriedly moved back to the couch where you had hidden the journal. Your heart raced as you reached under the cushion and retrieved the book,

Carefully, you made your way to the basement, cradling the journal close. The soft thud of your footsteps was the only sound as you entered your sanctuary. With a mixture of triumph and nervous excitement, you placed the journal on your desk, feeling a surge of satisfaction.

Settling into your chair, you opened the journal, ready to dive into its pages. The room was quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of your lamp. As you began to read, you felt a sense of contentment and anticipation. You were close, so close.

The room's tranquility was abruptly shattered by the sound of loud, frantic yelling coming from upstairs. You jumped, the journal nearly slipping from your grasp. Before you could process what was happening, Stanley burst into the room, his face pale and drawn, breath ragged as if he'd been running for miles.

"(Y/n)!" he shouted, his voice urgent and tinged with panic. "Kid, look. I need you to hurry up. They’re here."

Confusion flashed across your face as you looked up at him. "Who’s here?" you asked, your heart racing at the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Grunkle Stan, usually so composed and gruff, now looked anything but. He clumsily raised his hands in the air, waving them wildly as if trying to shoo away an invisible threat. "The government! We’ve got to move fast if we want to bring back Poindexter!"

Your mind whirled, struggling to catch up with the gravity of the situation. You nodded grimly, setting the journal down on your desk with a quick, deliberate motion. "Okay, alright. Fine."

You began to scribble hurriedly onto a separate note, crunching the numbers and double-checking every task to make sure it all aligned. Stan had already dashed back upstairs, possibly to help stall for time before any raids happened.

Time passed quickly, and you found yourself pacing back and forth among cables and wires, blackboards covered in equations, and strewn papers scattered everywhere, scrambling to find your missing pencils. The numbers weren’t adding up; something was missing. You sprinted back to the battery that powered the portal. Attached to it was a large generator, and you tapped against the glass of the fuel gauge. The little pointer trembled up and then dropped down again, and a sinking feeling settled into the pit of your stomach.

Once again, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. “How’s it going in here? Are we ready to go?” Stan called out, his voice slightly out of breath. He seemed to have tucked the twins into bed and was prepared to finish this.

You turned around, giving him one long, grave look. “Yeah…” You swallowed thickly. “But we only have one shot at this.”

“Of course we do. With the government knocking at our front door, we need to do this right.” Stan waved a dismissive hand, seemingly unaware of your trembling fingers. He walked toward the monitors and desk, pulling out the swivel chair and sitting down with a huff. He began flicking everything on.

The sounds of beeping and swirling energy filled the room. The light blue hue from the portal illuminated everything, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. Suddenly, gravity shifted, and objects began to float slowly upward. The floor shook beneath you, a deep rumble vibrating through the air.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You and Stan walked toward the portal, standing directly under the imposing structure. You glanced at him. “Are you ready to bring your brother back home?”

He met your gaze, a grin spreading across his face. “Absolutely! Are you ready to go home?”

You hesitated, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. “I…”

Suddenly, Dipper and Mabel appeared behind you, their voices raised in alarm. “Stop! You have to explain what’s going on!” Mabel shouted, her eyes wide with concern, while Dipper looked equally frantic.

You turned, caught off guard. “Guys, we’re trying to save—”

“Save who?” Dipper interjected, stepping forward. “What’s happening?”

Stan interjected, urgency ringing in his voice. “Listen, kids. I’m sorry for not telling you this sooner—”

Just then, the portal began to tremble violently, and suddenly, you all felt yourselves lifting off the ground, floating upward toward the ceiling. It was almost time.

“Mabel! Stop the portal!” Dipper yelled at his sister, scrambling to reach something secure on the floor.

Mabel was gripping your hand for dear life, her eyes wide with fear, while you clutched onto the edge of the desk, trying to steady yourself amidst the chaos. “What do I do?!” she shouted, her voice strained against the growing hum of the portal.

“Press the red button!”

You and Stan both shouted in unison. “No! Mabel, please!”

Mabel’s eyes darted between the portal and the control panel, uncertainty flooding her face. “But —”

“Kids, look!” Stan’s voice was laced with desperation, the lines of age etched deeper into his features. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you some things in the past. I tried to tell you guys! But I just couldn’t.” His lips trembled as he continued, “I’ll tell you everything once all of this is over. Just please trust me!”

“Don’t listen to him!” Dipper urged, his voice rising above the chaotic hum of the portal. “We can’t lose this chance!”

“Dipper! Please!” You turned your attention to him, feeling your heart race. “I know that Stan and I seem suspicious right now, but you have to understand—we have to do this!”

Dipper shook his head, frustration mingling with concern. “Shut up!” He huffs out. “We can’t blindly trust you or Stan after everything!”

Mabel looked between you and Dipper, her expression filled with uncertainty. “What do I do, Dipper?”

You look at her, and say, “You know us, Mabel. You can trust us!”

“It’s like I don’t even know you guys anymore! Who even are you, Grunkle Stan… and you…” Mabel’s voice trembled as she looked at you, tears brimming in her eyes. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “I trusted you, (Y/n).”

You glanced at Dipper, and even he had tears streaming down his face. He looked at you as if you were a foreign enemy, and your heart sank under the weight of his feelings.

The seconds ticked down, and Mabel’s hesitation cost her the chance to press the glowing red button. Suddenly, gravity returned with a jolt, and you all crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, a man stepped out of the blue portal. He was imposing, holding a gun in one hand, dressed in a heavy trench coat that billowed slightly with the portal’s energy. A set of dark glasses sat high upon his nose, obscuring his eyes, but the air of authority around him was intimidating.

You could recognize him anywhere. Stan beat you to it, rushing forward and knocking you aside as he enveloped his brother, Stanford, in a fierce hug. “Ford! You’re back!” he exclaimed, relief washing over him.

But Ford, clearly not in the mood for celebrations, slapped Stan’s face away and yelled, “What were you thinking, Stan? Activating the portal like that could endanger all of humanity!”

While the brothers engaged in a heated argument, you stumbled to your feet and stepped forward, your heart racing at the sight of the man who had taught you so much. “Ford!” you called out, trying to break through the tension.

He turned, his expression softening slightly as he saw you. “(Y/n)!” Ford said, his voice a mix of surprise and warmth. “I’m glad to see you, but this isn’t the time—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened. “But we need your help. The government is here, and they want to take us in. We were trying to bring you back safely, but now it’s all gone sideways!”

The twins follow behind you, Dipper brushes against your arm, but his gaze is on the the identical twin of who he thought was Stanford Pines. “Who… are you?”

“Ford!” Stan rushes over and squeezes the kids by their shoulders. “These two are our great niece and nephews! Meet Dipper and Mabel.”

The twins followed closely behind you, and as you moved, Dipper brushed against your arm. His gaze was fixed on the man standing before them, who looked strikingly like the Stanford they had come to know. “Who… are you?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“Ford!” Stan rushed over, squeezing the kids by their shoulders with a grin. “These two are our great niece and nephew! Meet Dipper and Mabel.”

The real Ford raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to absorb the introduction. “Kids…?” He raises an arm out to shake hands with them.

Mabel, her initial shock wearing off, smiled brightly. She shakes hands first. “You look just like Grunkle Stan! But way cooler!” She giggled, her infectious energy breaking some of the tension.

Dipper reaches out, still skeptical. “What’s going on here?” He then glances down at his fingers and notices that there’s six of them. “You’re… the author?! No way!”

You giggle, pleased by his surprise reaction. “Stanford was my mentor in the past. I knew you’d be excited to see him.”

Dipper looks at you, then Stanford and then back to you. “I totally do not trust you at all anymore. But I have so many questions I want to ask!”

Your heart sank at Dipper's words, the weight of his distrust settling heavily in your chest. You’d worked hard to earn his trust, and now it felt like it was slipping away. “I understand,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to help.”

His expression softening slightly. “Okay, I’m willing to get to know you again. But promise me, no more secrets? You also have to answer all the questions I have!”

Your heart lifted a little at his willingness to try again. “I’d be happy to share,” you said, grateful for the opportunity. You reached out to grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

As you all moved forward, Dipper turned to you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “So, first question: Did the crush you have on me fake, or real?”

You blink. “My… what?!”

[elitadream]

Hi! I saw @living-the-dream-yall's ask and just wanted to say I 100% agree! Your interpretations of these characters are one of a kind and captivating, and the art is top tier. I confess, I've stared at some of your artwork longer than I usually do, and tried to take some inspiration from it on a few occasions. For example, I contemplated your beautiful drawing of the Mario Bros. touching foreheads for a while before attempting to draw that gesture for the first time myself.

My first encounter with your art was when I found @drones-of-innocence's fic Sing For Absolution (came for the Muse reference, stayed for the incredible writing and art alike). And by now I'm pretty sure that I've seen every piece you've ever shared.

Like I told you before, a big fan of yours here :D I just admire your art style and characterization so much, and don't even get me started on your amazing Body Swap AU. It's so good! I love how many fanworks were inspired by it.

No matter what direction you're taking your blog now, I just want you to know how much I appreciate all that you've created and shared. It's so nice to finally be able to tell you all of this directly, and thank you so much for becoming my mutual. I'm not exaggerating when I say it's an honor!

Wow, thanks a lot!! 🤩 I really appreciate the wonderful feedback. Knowing you've taken inspiration from my work is incredibly flattering. ☺️💖 And omg the body-swap AU! x3 That was a fun one haha, and people's participation made it even better. 🙌

I did keep everything up for a while before taking it all down, so you're probably right! The only pieces you guys haven't seen are the ones I had finished but hadn't yet posted before my batteries abruptly went dead. >< If anything, it was a sure sign I needed to slow down. 👀😅

Thank you again for leaving such a nice and thoughtful message. I keep some very fond memories of my time spent in the Mario fandom as a creator and it's thanks to all of you. 🤗✨ Also you're very welcome! It was my pleasure. 😁

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to @magpiepills, @schnarfer, and @ace-turned-confused for the tags! Also shout out to @thundermartini and @sawymredfox for the tags last week as well.

Heeeey! It's Wednesday and I'm doing this on time.

Been feeling pretty burnt out on writing, but slowly chugging along on some pieces. Honestly, a lot of effort has been going into a rewrite/edit of my first fic so by the time I'm done with that my brain is gone. My busy time for work is right around the corner, so I'm putting more pressure on myself to write, thus making me not want to write. Brains are fun!

I'm in the Dieter Den. Still working on the follow up to Golden Girl.

He listens as you softly hum into the breezy night air. A pleasant smile is stretched across your face, your eyes sit a little hazier from the bottle of champagne that you’re holding by the neck.  You stop, and bobble back and forth. He grabs your arms, supporting your wobbly form.  “You good?” he asks. “Yes *hiccup* just— haven’t felt this free in awhile,” your body thuds against his chest. His heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. “Like, GOD, it fucking sucks, but also like, fuck Warren, he didn’t deserve ME.” He wants to tell you how he agrees with you wholeheartedly, he wants to pour his rapid beating heart out to you in the middle of this quiet neighborhood. He doesn’t, you’re going through enough, and he respects you–nay–loves you far too much to divulge his years-long secret devotion to you.

I also have been close to finishing my "Slut!" themed Dieter piece... writing poetry here folks.

A faint car alarm in the distance accompanies the sound of the water colliding with Dieter’s thrusts into your accepting cunt. You laugh against his wet chest when you realize he’s pacing himself to the beep.  BEEP SPLASH BEEP SPLASH BEEP SPLASH

If you've already posted please tag me so I can see and scream at you. Tagging: @mothandpidgeon, @burntheedges, @sawymredfox, @beefrobeefcal, @secretelephanttattoo

@yopossum, @guiltyasdave, @jolapeno, @bitchesuntitled, @sp00kymulderr, @thundermartini

[into-deepspace]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request for Rafayel's reaction when MC comes out as non-binary? It's something that's never left my head since I started playing lnds. I can't help but worry if it'd change things for him even though I know it won't (insecurity did a number on me🥹). What if MC wanted to present themes as masc/femme? How would he react?

Sorry if this is too long and complicated and I understand if you don't want to write for this but if you do write it it'd mean the world to me. Thank you for reading this ask🌸🌸

aaa of course!!! dw it wasn't long or complicated at all! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i rlly hope i did rafayel justice here <33 i feel like it ended awkwardly but ah what can u do. anywayyyy:

as you are

rafayel/mc • nonbinary mc • 1.6k • ao3 link requests open, reblogs appreciated! mild hurt/comfort || coming out || tooth-rotting fluff || established relationship

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. ��Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.

A couple hours later, laying in bed, MC watches Rafayel’s sleeping face with a soft smile. They never thought they’d be lucky enough for a relationship like this.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”