#like it's been a while since the finale but

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

how about sylus let reader gobbles his dick up on her throat as he working shes so needy she even falls asleep during it or even let reader cockwarm him to sleep 🤍

᧔♡᧓ ࿐ SLEEPING ON HIM !

❦ warnings : nsfw, cockwarming, deepthroating, semi-public s*x, size difference, sleepy s*x, power play, and petnames.

❦ synopsis : You were supposed to be patient, supposed to wait until Sylus finished his work—but your neediness got the better of you. Now, with his cock buried deep inside you, keeping you warm and full while he works, you’re fighting off sleep, body soft and pliant in his lap. Sylus should be annoyed, but he can’t bring himself to care; not when you’re clinging to him so sweetly, whimpering in your sleep, desperate even in your dreams. Work can wait. For now, he’s content to keep you exactly where you belong. (mdni)

Sylus barely spares you a glance as he flips through the documents on his desk, eyes scanning each page with practiced efficiency. His free hand rests lazily on your head, fingers occasionally threading through your hair as you kneel between his legs, mouth stuffed full of his cock.

You’d been like this for a while now—desperate and needy, whining softly around him while he worked. He hadn’t even told you to do it. You’d just climbed into his lap, pawing at his belt, too impatient for him to finish his tasks. And Sylus, ever indulgent when it came to you, had let you.

“You’re insatiable,” he mutters, barely holding back a smirk as he watches you struggle to take him deeper. Your throat contracts around his length, a muffled whimper escaping as your hands clutch at his thighs for stability. “This is supposed to keep you quiet, not make you squirm.”

You whine in protest, blinking up at him with teary eyes, lips stretched wide around his cock. He chuckles at your expression, finally setting his papers aside to brush his thumb against your cheek.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sleepy already,” he muses, watching the way your lashes flutter. You’re so warm around him, so pliant, and the rhythmic bob of your head is growing lazier with each passing minute. "Greedy little thing… you bite off more than you can chew, then wear yourself out trying."

He exhales through his nose, tilting your chin up and easing you off his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip. Your breath is heavy, lips swollen and glistening, pupils blown wide with exhaustion and arousal.

“You want to be full so badly?” Sylus murmurs, guiding you into his lap properly this time. His cock, slick with your spit, presses against your entrance, and he groans as he sinks you down onto him in one slow, steady motion.

A shudder runs through your body, your arms draped loosely over his shoulders as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He strokes a hand down your spine, soothing you as you settle, buried balls-deep on his cock.

“Stay put, kitten,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he shifts just enough to grab his documents again. “Since you’re so desperate to be filled, you can warm me while I finish up.”

You make a soft, content sound, already half-asleep against him. Sylus smirks, flipping the page.

Needy little thing.

Sylas exhales slowly, adjusting his grip on the papers in one hand while the other rests against your lower back, keeping you pressed firm against him. You're still clinging to him, limp and boneless, soft breaths puffing against his collarbone as you drift in and out of consciousness.

He can feel the subtle flutter of your walls around him, involuntary little squeezes that make his jaw clench. You’re so warm, so snug around his cock, and fuck, it takes more restraint than he’d like to admit to keep himself from rolling his hips up into you.

“Didn’t think this through, did you?” he murmurs, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You barely stir, only sighing against his skin, a little noise of contentment slipping past your lips.

Sylus smirks, amused at how quickly you’ve gone pliant—so eager to have him inside you, only to get so sleepy the moment you got what you wanted. He shifts in his chair, adjusting the papers in his hand, though the weight of you in his lap, the squeeze of your pussy around his cock, makes it impossible to focus.

His fingers twitch against your spine before trailing lower, skimming down to where your bodies are joined. He palms the curve of your ass, gripping just hard enough to make you stir, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

“You’re clinging to me like you don’t want me to pull out,” he muses, voice low and amused. “Maybe I should. Leave you empty so you can actually sleep properly.”

A pathetic little sound rumbles in your throat, and Sylus chuckles. His hand slides up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “I’ll let you have it—for now.”

Your breath hitches, your body sinking further into his, and Sylus allows himself a brief moment to indulge, letting his eyes slip shut as he savors the feeling of you wrapped around him, warm and trembling, completely at his mercy.

Work can wait. For now, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you hiding an injury from them !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k (lowkey estimated bc word counter isn’t working)

cw: injuries (sprained wrist/ankle, concussions, etc.), blood mentioned but not descriptive (woozi) way too much backstory bc i'm a d1 yapper

a/n: for the record i've never sustained a major injury (thankfully!) besides when i dislocated my shoulder when i was 4 years old so this may not be accurate. SO sorry that this took so long i had a brain fart or smth 😔

scoups - you really didn't think he'd notice immediately, but he does. you accidentally rolled your ankle trying to catch the subway. it wasn't too bad; the doctor said you'd minorly sprained your ankle, but all it needed was a couple weeks in a splint. in some attempt to hide it, you put on some sweatpants and slippers and call it a day.

so deciding it wasn't that big of a deal (and lowkey a win since you got to skip work), you didn't think of telling seungcheol because one, you didn't feel like listening to him scold you for staying up too late the night before, and two, he'd just gotten off tour. he didn't need to spend the next couple of weeks babying you over an injury that didn't even require surgery.

but when he returns home from a day out and catches you instantly put down your leg from where you'd been elevating it on a footstool, he immediately grows suspicious of something. "why were you doing that just now?"

"eh? i think you're being paranoid- oh, um..." you try to play it off, but then he comes closer and inspects your body for a bit before pulling up your pant leg to reveal the splint surrounding your ankle despite your protests.

his eyes widen and he looks up at you from where he's kneeling. "you got hurt? when? why didn't you call me?" he asks rapidly. you sigh, listening to him scold you even more than what he would have if you'd told him earlier, finally promising him to never hide anything from him again.

jeonghan - basically, you slipped in the shower and gave yourself a concussion while jeonghan was at practice. out of pure embarrassment, you didn't tell jeonghan because let's be real, it sounded a little stupid and someone like him would never let you live it down.

and honestly, you thought you'd exceeded. jeonghan had come home and didn't mention anything to you, just complaining about how he hates all his choreography (he says this everytime he has to learn new choreo...). that was until you went to bed.

all is well, but then those massive headaches roll in one by one and now you're stuck with an unbearable migraine. trying not to disturb your boyfriend, you uncurl yourself from him and barely make your way to the kitchen.

the headache only gets worse as you fumble with the advil bottle while cursing your concussion aloud when suddenly a hand takes it and opens it. "here," you turn around, only to find jeonghan offering the bottle with a confused, sleepy look.

"and what were you muttering around? a concussion or something?" you gulp, taking the advil as you try to come up with an excuse. he takes your (literally three second) hesitation as an answer, "wait- you actually got a concussion?" avoiding the question, you attempt to usher him back to bed, but now he's somehow gained consciousness and doesn't back down. "y/n, what happened? and why didn't you tell me?" and when you finally tell him, he's... disappointed?

"baby, you really didn't tell me you got a concussion because you thought i'd make fun of you?" he sighs, shaking his head before putting his hands on your shoulder, "i'm your lover before a jokester or best friend, okay? i care about you more than anything. don't hide things like this from me."

joshua - in this situation, you would say "snitches get stitches" but the only one who actually got stitches was you.

you got a pretty bad arm wound while bike riding with your friend. it hurt and the only thing you really remembered was crying from the pain. anyways, joshua had just gotten off tour, and you'd feel bad for making him worry, so you made your friend promise to not mention it to him.

but the only warning you get when you return home from the hospital is a text from that same friend saying, "sorry y/n...." before you open the door and are greeted by a very worried joshua.

"y/n! i heard about your arm, are you okay?" you try to brush him off, but he doesn't let you. "hey, your friend also said you were going to try to hide it from me. why's that?"

"it's really not a big deal shua-"

"don't lie to me, she said you were crying, babe. why are you trying so hard to keep this from me?"

you don't know what to say and joshua just embraces you, "here, i'll take care of you okay?" and you let him, because it's joshua.

jun - ugh, he's so oblivious yet somehow annoyingly observant that he finds out without trying.

someone ran over your toe with a shopping cart during your grocery trip. it truly didn't hurt that much in the moment, but the hours after that? oh boy were they torturing.

it still didn't seem like enough to tell jun about, so you simply went about your day suffering in silence.

during dinner, however, he asks you through scoops of chinese steamed egg, "did you hurt your foot while shopping?"

taken aback by the accuracy of his question, you literally drop your spoon and he's just like, "what?? you just seem to be lighter on your feet today, that's all."

he takes the whole situation pretty lightly (oblivious i tell you) that he doesn't even believe you when you try to tell him the truth 😭 "okay, okay, you're just trying to make me seem smart now." so then you take off your sock at the dinner table and lift your bruised foot to show him and he looks at you like this: (°ロ°)

hoshi - unlike jun, he does NOT take it lightly. he's almost offended.

yes, you shouldn't be trying to walk around too much with a bad ankle, but you can't help it okay? sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, like walk hoshi's dog, latte, while he works on his album.

he's been really busy, okay? you never told him about how you tripped around a week ago, so you'd just been living as if it never happened. honestly it's no surprise that you kind of automatically accepted his sister's request without thinking of your ankle (that was praying you'd stop putting pressure on it).

but then you make the grave mistake of posting your walk on instagram with just a sliver of the bandage wrapping up your ankle. he literally hearts the story, removes it, and replies with an angry face.

he calls you, "y/n! what are you doing walking around with an obviously injured leg? and why am i finding out through your instagram story?"

you're not sure what to say, but he talks for you, "i'm leaving practice right now so i can take care of both my babies, don't move. you'll make your ankle worse, babe."

"right, because you'd know-" and he hangs up on you,

wonwoo - silently observant...

you were surprised that you'd been able to go this long with a cast around your wrist, only using hoodies to conceal it, but turns out wonwoo's like those shop employees who wait for people to steal $1000 worth of stuff before dropping that lawsuit on them.

one day, you're both just sitting on the couch when he grabs ahold of your wrist. he literally waits for you to be distracted, doomscrolling on social media, to do it.

but then you feel him roll up your sleeve, and now you're doomed.

"what's this, y/n?" he asks firmly, holding your arm tight enough to where you can't move, but somehow gently as to prevent any discomfort (how cute of him).

"you really didn't think i would notice it? you wearing hoodies when it's 70 degrees, eating with your nondominant hand, taking forever to shower because you have to wash your hair with one arm, why didn't you just let me take care of you?"

you sort of shrink back in shame; wonwoo read you and you were stunned. he simply takes you into his arms, murmuring, "i'm not mad, i just want you to know that you don't have to struggle like that when i'm here. i'll notice either way."

woozi - ouch. you accidentally cut yourself while cleaning up the remnants of a glass cup you dropped. the cut was deep, but somehow still in a sleepy daze, you cleaned it to the best of your ability, slapped some gauze on it, and went back to bed.

whenever jihoon comes home, he follows his normal 2 am schedule, but then notices the blood-stained towel in the hamper. he rushes to your room, only to find you sound asleep.

still, he shakes you awake, "y/n, why's there a towel with blood all over it in the laundry room?" you kind of look at him, confused, before simply lifting your arm to reveal the amateur work you did you bandage it.

at first, he sighs in relief, but then you see his brows furrow. "when did this happen? seems kinda serious..." he inspects it closely as you mumble, "i dunno, couple hours ago? i dropped something."

"what? why didn't you call me? i could've come home earlier to take care of it." he says, feeling guilty about not being there.

"it's really nothing, you've been really busy anyway. this isn't something you should worry about-" but he shushs you. "i'm never too busy to help you, y/n. i don't want you thinking like that."

dk - like hoshi, he doesn't take it lightly. you took a heavy fall while rushing to work a couple days ago. it wasn't a big deal until your arm started to bruise pretty badly.

you knew seokmin would freak out at it, so you planned on wearing long sleeve shirts to cover it up, and it'd been working pretty well.

but unfortunately for you, this had to be the time where you forgot to bring a shirt with you to shower, accidentally bringing two pairs of pants instead.

you tried to dash in and out of your room as fast as possible, but seokmin was plopped on your bed, getting a clear view of your arm (you had a towel wrapped around you okay?).

his jaw drops, you grab a shirt, water is dripping everywhere, and you yell “i’ll explain later!” as you run back to the bathroom.

when you come back, his jaw is still in the same position. “seok, it’s really not that bad.” you assure him, but he barely pays attention, just reaching for your arm. “it looks bad though…” he mumbles, poking at the bruise like a little kid, “that didn’t hurt, right?”

ugh, he’s so cute.

mingyu - you somehow manage to slice your hand open while cooking dinner for whenever mingyu comes home.

do you tell him? absolutely not. you definitely do not need him locking you out of the kitchen after you try to cook one time.

you really don’t have time to go to the hospital (which you definitely should’ve done??) so you opt to put some pressure on it with a towel until it stops bleeding, and because you have terrible timing, mingyu enters the apartment.

at first he says “smells pretty good! what are you-“ he strides into the kitchen to see the food you were unable to plate at the dining table (that actually looks pretty good), your distressed face, and then your hand.

“at least i got here on time,” he says, taking your hand and looking at it closely. “don’t worry, i was like trained for this stuff.” he smiles, heading toward what you used to think was an overstuffed medical cabinet.

“you didn’t even call me. were you planning to take care of this yourself?” he asks, wrapping your hand with precision. “i’m here for a reason, you know? you just gotta let me help you, baby.”

the8 - you had a feeling minghao would notice immediately, but there was a very slim chance he’d miss it this time. he’d just got done filming for his survival show, and you knew he’d be tired when he got home.

you’re a pretty clumsy person, and you always felt bad for making a usually calm minghao worried. so, when you tripped and got a concussion the day before, you didn’t tell him.

it was going fine, painkillers acting as your savior, but then you ran out of them. groaning, you decide to wait for minghao to leave the house to go buy more, but he doesn’t?

it’s like his subconscious knew your plan, and eventually you just can’t take it anymore, calling your friend and asking her to drop some off.

then you go to take a nap on the couch as an attempt to sleep off the headache you have, unaware that your friend’s at the door.

minghao gently shakes you awake, bottle of advil in his hand and a concerned look on his face. “i knew something was up with you. you should’ve just told me, y/n.” he says, explaining how your friend gave him a weird face when he asked about the medication and then dropping how you got a concussion like it was obvious.

“we shouldn’t hide things like this, okay? it’s not good for you.”

seungkwan - let’s just say, you may not be cut out for volleyball.

you were just goofing off with your friends, playing volleyball, when you dislocated your shoulder. seungkwan was hosting a variety show, and you didn’t feel like bothering him, so you didn’t mention it, not even when he video called you during his lunch break.

it wasn’t that bad of an injury, the doctor popped it back into its socket and you were sent home with some medication.

a week passes with no problem, but then seungkwan offers to play some badminton (like the LAST sport you should be trying to play during recovery), and thinking it wouldn’t be too bad, you accept.

it’s only till you’re actually swinging the racket that you realize that your shoulder has definitely not healed, let alone healed enough to really be playing a sport. you suddenly pause, “wait- just give me a minute.” he runs over from his side of the court. “hey, what’s going on? you look like you’re in pain.”

trying to get out the fact it’s because you got a dislocated shoulder, you ramble “it’s fine, just a dislocatedshoulderigotaweekagowithouttellingyou 😄”

and he’s like “WHAT? are you crazy?? why are you trying to play on it?” and proceeds to grab that same arm and drag you out of the court. he definitely scolds you for the rest of the day…

vernon - normally he’s chill, but right now he’s lowkey tweaking out.

while he was visiting his sister for her birthday, you broke your leg. you didn’t tell vernon because you wanted him to have a good time with his sister (how nice of you 😊), but when he comes home, he doesn’t think of it as such.

you’re laying on the couch, watching a show, whenever he enters the apartment. there’s a blanket over you, so he doesn’t notice the leg immediately.

“finally, this jet lag has got me *yawn* out of it.” he says, lifting the blanket just enough so he can slide in next to you.

he still doesn’t notice until his leg touches your boot, yelping in surprise. “why are you wearing shoes on the couch?” and then making another surprised noise when you reveal its a medical boot.

“did this happen when i was gone? you should’ve told me…” he gently scolds you, mainly because you made him so surprised, and then just lays back with you on the couch like nothing happened.

dino - you really wanted to tell him, but he just looked so happy in singapore and you really didn’t feel like ruining his time there.

on the way to class, you fractured your wrist while trying to catch yourself. since then, you’ve been struggling trying to do basically anything: changing clothes, showering, cooking, the list goes on.

but you didn’t tell him, just choosing to get through it until he comes home.

“y/n~ i’m home!” he calls out, walking in with his luggage. you’re in the shower, arm sticking out as far as it can away from the water, trash bag wrapped around that arm, and ultimately, just in a bad position.

“um, in here! can you help me?” you holler. you feel bad for making him help you as soon as he got home, but you’re going through hell and back trying to shampoo your hair.

he walks into the bathroom, “you sure you want me in here?” and all he sees is a fogged up shower with a trash bagged arm sticking out of it. surprisingly, he immediately understands what happened.

“babe, you should’ve told me earlier.” he says, helping you wash your hair properly. “i don’t like to think that you’ve been struggling like this without me there.” he frowns, kissing you on the forehead.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

1-800-CALL ME, FAKE FIANCÉ

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: (part of my mini fake-fiancé series) the fbi agent you met at the bar helped you out of a jam so you decide to pay him a visit at work. warnings | a/n: unhinged reader, rossi being a lil instigator, reader has no shame in her game at ALL & makes the first move, the usual banter & chem, channelling all the rom-com feels word count: 3.3k

✧ masterlist | first part can be found here

It had been a week since your little fake fiancé fiasco, and while it had been enough to satisfy your mob group of fake friends and stop them from asking questions, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your questions.

Because now, you were curious – dangerously so.

You couldn’t concentrate on much else. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Completely unnecessary. And yet…

You had googled him.

You had googled Aaron Hotchner.

And oh boy did you find things.

FBI Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Head of some ultra-serious-sounding department in behavioural analysis. There were articles. Court cases. Mentions of serial killers – plural. You even found a grainy news clip of him giving a statement outside a police station, looking all important and broody.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there were forums. Entire internet threads dedicated to the man. Debates on how often he smiled. Speculation on his past. A truly unhinged corner of the internet where a small but passionate group of people seemed convinced he had once been a male model.

You may or may not have spent a questionable amount of time scrolling through that last one.

But none of this answered the real question: why did an FBI Unit Chief go along with your ridiculous fake fiancé charade without hesitation? That was not normal federal agent behaviour. You were pretty sure actual government employees had policies against indulging unhinged strangers.

Which led you here. More specifically in the FBI headquarters parking lot.

Okay, you were actually insane. But you had good intentions. Intentions of thanking him properly for the night of madness he had endured.

So, you had baked him cookies. Because, according to your mother, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – which was a wildly inappropriate saying to be applying to an FBI agent, but here you were.

You took a deep breath, staring up at the intimidating glass doors, clutching your box of cookies like it was a ticking time bomb. This was fine. Completely normal. People brought cookies to law enforcement all the time… right?

Swallowing your nerves, you marched inside, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approached the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up as she typed away at her computer.

“Hi! Uh, could you do me a favour and give these to an Aaron Hotchner?” you asked, setting the box down with a nervous smile. “He’s, um, Unit Chief of something very official and serious, which I’m sure you already know, but I just wanted to thank him because he helped me out of a situation – not like a legal situation, nothing weird, I’m not a criminal or anything – oh my God, that sounded suspicious –”

The receptionist finally looked up, blinking slowly. “Ma’am?”

You let out an awkward laugh, waving a hand. “I mean, technically, everyone is a criminal in some way, right? Like, who hasn’t jaywalked or taken a pen from a bank? Oh my God, I’m not confessing to anything, I just –”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist interrupted, her voice flat. “Are you delivering something, or…?”

“Wow, you guys are really strict on the whole professionalism thing, huh?” You huffed, then quickly corrected yourself. “Not that I’m not professional. I can be professional. I wore a blazer once.” You paused, glancing at her name badge. “Clarissa! I am delivering cookies. They are divine, you can have one if you’d like?”

Clarissa squinted at you, clearly debating whether or not to press a panic button – one that, realistically, would probably result in you being swarmed by tactical agents in full riot gear.

Was that even the FBI? Or was that, like… SWAT? Was SWAT part of the FBI? Were you about to go down for cookie-related crimes?

“Are you cleared to be here?” she asked.

“Depends on your definition of cleared –”

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s take a breath before you actually incriminate yourself.”

You spun around to find none other than David – if you recalled correctly – standing behind you, looking just as entertained as he did back at the jazz bar, his eyes bouncing between the cookies and you. “Well, well. If it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée.”

“Not his fiancée anymore!”

“Sure. And I’m not Italian.”

You shook your head, exhaling dramatically. “I just made him some cookies as a thank you. Do you mind passing them on to him, please? And then I can get out of yours and Clarissa’s hair. You have fabulous hair, both of you, by the way.”

Clarissa stared at you like you were personally responsible for every inconvenience that had ever befallen her. Rossi, on the other hand, grinned like you had just made his entire day.

“You know what? No,” he said, shaking his head. “You should give them to him yourself.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary –”

“I insist.”

Clarissa folded her arms. “She’s not authorised to be here.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Clarissa, I’ve worked in this building longer than some agents have been alive. If I say she’s authorised, she’s authorised.”

Clarissa let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t argue further.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go surprise Hotch.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Oh. Yay.”

Rossi led you through security and about four different hallways before you found yourself in an elevator. You barely had time to process what was happening before you were stepping into a bullpen that made your brain go fuzzy. There were far too many people in suits, all looking intimidatingly competent.

A woman with blonde hair and a bright cardigan – finally someone who understood the power of colour – shot you an intrigued glance over the top of her glasses.

“I really don’t think this is necessary, David,” you whispered. “You guys look like busy, busy people, and I just wanted to bring some cookies. I don’t think Hotch will appreciate being called out of his very legitimate FBI career just for me.”

“Oh, I know he won’t.”

“Okay, now you’re making me panic, and I have a habit of jumping to conclusions when I’m under a lot of stress. Please, really, it’s no big deal –”

“Yeah, Hotch mentioned something along those lines,” Rossi hummed as the two of you came to a halt in front of a door, to which he knocked before stepping inside.

You followed hesitantly, barely making it over the threshold before you locked eyes with Hotch, who was standing behind his desk, looking very confused.

Rossi gestured at you grandly. “Look who I found wandering the FBI headquarters.”

“Okay, that makes me sound like a stalker and – wow, okay, I guess maybe I am a stalker, but the good kind, I promise! I come in peace. And with cookies… as a thank you.”

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Rossi grinned, giving you a nudge as he sauntered out, shutting the door behind him with far too much enthusiasm.

Hotch, still staring at you like you had just crash-landed into his office from another dimension, slowly folded his arms. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not until you try one of these,” you said, flipping open the lid of the cookie box, only for your smile to falter the second you actually registered what was inside.

Heart-shaped cookies. Pink frosting. Extra sprinkles.

Oh no.

You stared at them. Then at Hotch. Then back at them.

He was still staring too, looking at the cookies like they were an active FBI case file he wasn’t quite sure how to classify.

You let out half a laugh. “Oh. Oh, boy.”

Hotch raised a brow, arms still crossed, looking every bit the intimidating federal agent he was.

“Okay, I know what this looks like,” you groaned, snapping the box shut like that would somehow undo the visual catastrophe. “I got slightly carried away – as I tend to – and my mind just kind of… took its own course when I was making them. I wasn’t thinking about you – well, I was thinking about you, but not like that, I swear. I just – ugh – I put a little bit myself into them.”

Hotch tilted his head. “Yourself?”

You nodded, slowly reopening the box as if the cookies might suddenly jump out and throw up edible glitter all over his office. “You know… they’re kind of chaotic but well-intentioned, possibly too much but ultimately harmless –”

“How did you find me here?”

“Oh. That.”

He just stared at you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the cookie box. “Well, it’s not that hard, you know? I have a great memory, and I did get a pretty solid look at your badge – after I thought you were going to murder me, of course – so I just… searched you up.”

His brows lifted.

You panicked. “But only to figure out where you work so I could bring you cookies! That’s it! I had every intention of leaving them with Clarissa but your friend David saw me and said I should bring them up myself. And well… now I’m here.”

Hotch’s hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.”

You rocked on your heels, watching him carefully. “Sooo… does this mean I’m officially on an FBI watchlist, or is that, like, a separate process?”

Hotch exhaled, lowering his hand. “You’re not on a watchlist.”

“Oh.”

His brows furrowed. “Would you like to be?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that without a lawyer present,” you mumbled, setting the cookies down on his desk.

“So, let me get this straight. You looked me up, managed to talk your way into a federal building without authorisation all just to bring me heart-shaped cookies?”

You lifted a finger. “Okay, first of all, let’s not make this sound like an obsession – I googled you. That’s a normal thing people do! It’s called being informed. And second, the hearts were an accident. I only had one cookie cutter. You think I wanted to show up here looking like some lovesick lunatic?”

Hotch glanced at the cookies, then back at you. “…Yes.”

“Okay, well, this has been fun,” you said, dusting your hands before adjusting your jacket. “Enjoy the cookies, and thanks again for the other night,” you continued, already backing toward the door. “I have not had my name mentioned once in the Veronica Posse group chat since, and for the first time in years, I have actually known peace.”

“Wait,” he called just as you reached for the door handle. You spun around to face him. “Why did you really come here?”

You paused before speaking.

“I need a fiancé again,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Yup. Need one again, preferably the same one, but this time it’s my parents hounding me, and they’ve already arranged a dinner and everything.”

Hotch opened his mouth, then closed it. A second passed. Then another. Finally – “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you beamed, completely unbothered by the scowl on his face. Hotch looked like he was about to reply, but his phone began ringing. He glanced down at it on the desk.

“Alright, really leaving now. I’ll let you get back to all this serious business,” you said, but then a realization dawned, making you pause.

Hotch looked back up, brows raising slightly. “What is it?”

You shifted, glancing toward the door, then back at him. “So, funny thing… I don’t actually know how to get out of here.”

Hotch sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a button to silence his phone before slipping it into his suit jacket. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, no need,” you replied quickly, waving him off. “I’ll just ask David – he loves helping me.”

Hotch gave you a flat look. “Absolutely not.”

You blinked innocently. “Why? He was so excited to see me earlier. You should have heard him, all like Oh, if it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée! He really sells it.”

“That’s exactly why,” Hotch muttered, already moving toward the door.

You followed Hotch out of his office, barely managing to keep up with his long strides. “Wow, you walk fast,” you huffed, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. “Is this an FBI thing? Do you all just power walk everywhere?”

He slowed his pace ever so slightly so you could catch up. As you glanced around, you noticed several pairs of eyes discreetly watching the two of you – one of them being David who had zero shame in making his interest known. You offered him a small wave to which he responded with a not-so-subtle wink. When your eyes landed on Hotch he was watching the exchange.

“Keep walking.”

“I am,” you whispered back, trying not to laugh. “I just happen to also be social.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

You gasped, doing a light two step jog to catch up. “Gosh, what happened to ‘Marry me, sweetheart?’”

“You called it nonsense, remember?”

“I did,” you admitted. “But that was after you said something that was incredibly true about me.”

Hotch threw you a curious glance. “And what was that?”

“That I’m too good to consider that group of women my friends, especially ones I feel the need to impress.”

Hotch didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the door, pushing it open and holding it for you. As you stepped past him, you caught the smallest trace of something in his expression, something very close to approval.

Stepping into the hallway, you glanced around, already feeling disoriented. “This place is like a maze,” you muttered, spinning in a small circle before looking back at him. “How do you manage to not get lost here?”

“Spatial awareness.”

Before you could question him further, you felt his heads on your arms, gently guiding you to the left just as you were about to head right.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

His lips twitched. “You were about to walk into a closet.”

You glanced back at the door you had almost pushed open. “That’s not a closet. That’s –” You squinted at the sign. “Okay, that’s definitely a closet.” You sighed dramatically, walking ahead this time – making sure to pretend like you totally knew where you were going. “See? This is why I need a fake fiancé. Navigation assistance.”

His voice followed you, dry as ever. “That’s what Google Maps is for.”

You turned, walking backwards now, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, Google Maps doesn’t have your spatial awareness, does it?”

“You’d rather rely on me for directions?”

You stopped walking, tilting your head. “Huh. Good point. Maybe I should just take my chances with the closet.”

Hotch sighed, stepping past you. “Come on. I’ll make sure you get out of here without accidentally locking yourself in a supply room.”

You grinned, following him. “See? Fake fiancé duties are still active.”

This time, you definitely didn’t miss the half-smile he tried to hide.

After what felt like literal hours of navigating the endless, identical floors and hallways of the FBI, the two of you finally stepped outside. Freedom at last, you thought, basking in the sight of the actual sun – something you’d only glimpsed through windows you were convinced had some kind of tint designed to make the inside of the building feel even duller.

“Do you know where you parked?”

You scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Uh, duh. What do you take me for?”

Hotch just looked at you.

You blinked.

Then, very slowly, you turned your head, scanning the parking lot.

Oh, no.

Where did you park?

You wracked your brain, desperately trying to retrace your steps, but the problem was… you hadn’t exactly been focused when you arrived. You had just parked somewhere and hoped for the best. But now, with Hotch watching you like a disapproving parent, the pressure was on.

You pointed vaguely toward a random row of cars. “It’s… that way.”

Hotch didn’t even bother looking. “No, it’s not.”

You spun back to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re guessing.”

“I am not.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I am not!”

Hotch arched a single, knowing brow.

You huffed. “Fine. I may be stalling. But in my defence, I had a lot on my mind when I got here!”

Hotch inhaled, glancing at his watch. “Just describe what your car looks like and what you remember seeing when you got here.”

You frowned, thinking. “Okay, so, my car is… car-shaped.”

His stare was unmoving.

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh… blue. Or, like, bluish. Depends on the lighting.”

“Anything else?”

You squinted at the parking lot, hoping for divine intervention. “I think I was near… a pole?”

“There are multiple poles.”

“A very specific pole.”

“Right.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Ugh, this is so unfair. I have many talents, okay? Parking lot navigation is just not one of them.”

“Shocking,” he muttered before moving toward one section of the parking lot. “Let’s start from here.”

You followed, chewing the inside of your cheek.

A few minutes later – after much grumbling, a completely unnecessary debate about why all parking lots look the same, and one slightly humiliating moment where you tried to unlock someone else’s car – Hotch finally spotted your actual vehicle.

“Would you look at that! There she is, in all her glory!” you sang and this time, when you hit the unlock button, the lights actually flashed. Progress.

You pulled open the driver’s side door and tossed your purse inside before turning back to Hotch. “Thank you… again.” You let out a laugh. “It feels like that’s all I ever say to you.”

Hotch gave a small shrug, hands finding his pockets. “You do seem to require a lot of rescuing.”

“Alright, alright.” You pointed a manicured finger at him. “Despite what you might think, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I just happen to have a mild navigational deficiency and… questionable taste in men. And friends, apparently – according to my ex fake fiancé.”

“Sounds like you’re finally learning.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding into your seat. “I hate that you’re good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Reading people.” You gestured vaguely in his direction. “It’s very annoying.”

He smiled at you, one hand slipping from his pocket to rest against the edge of your car door. “I’ll try to be worse at my job next time.”

You leaned forward, placing your arms on the steering wheel with a playful spark in your eye. “Listen, Hotch, Hotchner, Aaron – I have a slight confession to make before I go.”

“That sentence doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“This one’s harmless. Promise.”

Hotch stood there, shaking his head like he could not believe he was still standing there entertaining this conversation.

You tapped a finger against the wheel. “So, if mid-cookie bite you accidentally choke on a piece of paper, do not be alarmed – well, actually do be alarmed. I don’t want you to die before you’ve asked me out on a date.” You flashed him a pointed look. “But it’s my number – since apparently, having my address isn’t enough.”

“You hid your number in food?”

“Listen, it was either that or carve it into your desk with a knife, and I figured that would raise some concerns with your co-workers.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like why me?

“But, you do have my number now, so really, the ball is in your court, Hotchner.”

“Is it?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Mhm. And just so we’re clear – I expect a dramatic, over-the-top use of it. Maybe a cryptic, we need to talk text. Or a mysterious meet me at midnight type of situation.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “You’d rather I text you about urgent matters than, say… just a normal conversation?”

“Aaron Hotchner, are you saying you want to have a normal conversation with me?”

He sighed, stepping back from your car. “Drive home, before I change my mind about letting you leave.”

You smirked, finally turning on the ignition. “Oh, so you let me leave now? That is so controlling of you.”

Hotch shook his head as he shut your door—just in time for you to lift a hand, making a finger phone gesture and mouthing Call me.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti

divider by cafekitsune

[dorliart]

Oooh.

Am I the Asshole for ruining my best friends excitement?

Im going to have to keep this very vague for personal reasons, so throwaway Account naturally.

Okay so for context, I'm originally not from The Isles and have found myself there now. (I know, I know, big deal woah etc. I'm using a vpn, and being safe, don't worry). So I've been living with some people on one of the isles, everyone has been truly very friendly and welcoming despite me not once having told them where I'm from exactly. But I feel like I've made friends and maybe even people I would consider my family. Now here's the problem. Apparently where I am now people have been really pushing the First Flight Ritual. At first it was only sort of vaguely talked about at school, and people have been bringing it up around me a lot since my wings have already fully grown in, a bit early. I had assumed it was a myth or legend or at most something older cousins tell their younger cousins when they want to look cool or intimidate them, but apparently not?? It keeps getting talked about more seriously, and even teachers and educators have started bringing it up.

Well and here's the actual problem. My best friend has been talking about it just as long, having heard about it from their big sibling a lot (which they really miss since they moved, so I get it) but they've been getting more extreme with it. They talk about actually wanting to take part in it as soon as their wings have grown in, even! If they haven't finished growing in! Like what! I thought it was common sense to know how fragile newly ingrown wings are, especially with not having been able to put any muscle strength on them?

I have been trying to reason with them for the better part of two weeks, but they won't listen at all. I've tried to explain it to them, but it was no use. And it's not like they don't know the risks either. They're so smart and they know about biology enough to know that this is not a smart course of action, they just won't admit it!

Things finally came to an all out argument a few days ago, when I all out told them how incredibly stupid this was. They could die!! But they didn't care. Just said I was selfish and was ruining what they were working and excited for, and jealous of their ambition. I'm still furious about it, but after storming off I've done a bit of reflection and while I don't regret what I've said and my stance, I do feel a little bad about having blown up so much.

So, am I the asshole for telling my friend it's stupid to participate in a ritual that is very likely to kill them?

Edit: guys I know it's a sacred ritual and everything but don't y'all think it might be wrong to continue a ritual that is actively killing people??? What is wrong with you

Edit 2: yes I will be deleting comments calling me a traitor and telling me to move down. This is not helping the conversation here.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[writeriguess]

Hiii neema😊

I was wondering If you could make a smut bakugo katsuki x fem reader, they have three kids. One 4 month old baby and two ten year olds 1 boy and 1 girl. (You decide the names)

The baby begins to cry at night and the two ten year olds get their baby sibling and wants to find their parents so they can fix the crying, but walk in on katsuki and the reader having sex.

Katsuki and the reader quickly cover up and hide their bodies under the blanket while nervously looking at their kids. They didn't think the kids would still be up.

But since the ten year olds are clueless they dontnpay attention to what they were doing and gives the reader the baby.

I really love your work and fanfics! I've stayed up all night and almost read them all, lmao.

A Parenting Hazard

Nights like these were rare.

A moment alone, just the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms without the chaos of parenthood weighing down on your every move. With Emi asleep in her crib, Ren and Hana tucked away in their rooms, and the entire house silent, you had finally—finally—allowed yourselves to indulge in the kind of intimacy you’d been craving for weeks.

Katsuki wasted no time the moment you’d curled up in bed together.

Now, you were beneath him, back arching as his mouth found the soft skin of your neck, his body pressed heavily against yours. The slow, deep thrusts of his hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your nails dragging down his back as he groaned into your ear.

“Missed this,” he muttered, voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Missed you.”

You gasped when he rolled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your thighs tighten around him. “Katsuki—”

His name left your lips in a breathless moan, sending a surge of pride through him. He loved the way you melted beneath him, the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Fuck—” His rhythm grew rougher, needier, his grip on your waist tightening as he chased that high. “Gonna make you come again, baby—”

You were close—so was he. The heat coiled in your belly, your body trembling as he thrust into you harder, faster—

Then—

The bedroom door swung open.

“Mom! Dad! Emi won’t stop crying—”

Katsuki’s entire body locked up.

You gasped, hands flying to yank the blanket over both of you, just as Ren and Hana stepped into the room—Ren carrying Emi in his arms, the baby’s face scrunched up in a wail.

Katsuki was still inside you.

Still rock-hard.

Still seconds away from coming when the moment shattered into pure, horrifying reality.

A thick, suffocating silence filled the room as you and Katsuki stared, wide-eyed, at your ten-year-olds, who looked back with the innocent expectation that their parents would fix the problem.

Hana frowned, squinting at the two of you huddled beneath the covers. “Why are you guys under there like that?”

Your brain scrambled for an answer.

“Uh—we—we were cold!” you blurted out.

Katsuki’s head snapped toward you with an expression of pure disbelief.

Ren blinked at you. Then his eyes drifted down, taking in the sweat glistening on your face and the way both of you were panting like you just ran a marathon.

“But… if you were cold, why are you all sweaty and out of breath?”

Katsuki twitched beside you.

You wanted to die.

“Uh—w-we were…” Your mind grasped at straws, but your tongue failed you. Shit, shit, shit.

Katsuki cleared his throat, voice gruff as he forced himself to speak. “We were just… workin’ out.”

Ren and Hana shared a look.

“In bed?” Hana asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Katsuki said flatly. “Now, gimme the damn baby and go to bed.”

Ren, thankfully, didn’t question it further and shuffled forward, carefully placing Emi onto your chest. She immediately nuzzled against you, her cries fading into soft sniffles as you held her close.

Hana, however, lingered a second longer, looking between you and Katsuki suspiciously.

“Okay…” she said slowly, before shrugging. “Goodnight, I guess.”

She turned, dragging Ren out of the room with her.

The moment the door shut behind them, you collapsed back onto the pillows, Emi still snug in your arms, your heart racing in your chest.

Katsuki ran a hand down his face, groaning. “I hate those damn kids.”

You snorted, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up. “You love them.”

“Not right now, I don’t.”

You giggled, adjusting Emi in your arms as she dozed off, blissfully unaware of what she’d just ruined.

Katsuki huffed, rolling onto his back, frustration evident in every tense line of his body.

After a beat of silence, he turned his head toward you, eyes dark with lingering need.

"So… you think we can pick up where we left off?"

You snorted. "Absolutely not. I have a baby to put back to sleep."

Katsuki groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "Fuckin’ cockblocked by my own damn kids."

You laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Welcome to parenthood, babe."

And as much as he complained, you knew he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Even if it meant sacrificing a few very good nights.

[xelinielx]

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Mine, Always

Fandom: Women’s Basketball (WNBA) | UConn Women’s Basketball

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader, Paige Bueckers x !daughter (Lex)

Tags: Fluff, Found Family, Bio!Single Parent Reader, Adoption, Protective Paige, Deadbeat Parent Drama, Soft Domestic Moments, WNBA Life, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Depth

Summary: mama P, she’s always been mama…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @starfulani , @nooooheheheheh , @sitawita , @azziswrld

I remember the first time Paige met Alexa—my little girl, my whole world. She was six at the time, still rocking mismatched socks and an obsession with dinosaurs. I was just starting to let someone new into our lives, and Lex was always my priority. But Paige? She didn’t force herself into our little world. She let Lex warm up to her, let her be the one to decide when Paige could stay.

And once she did, there was no looking back.

Paige became her safe space. From movie nights to helping with school projects, from standing in the crowd at Lex’s soccer games to carrying her up to bed when she fell asleep on the couch—she was there. She never overstepped, never tried to replace what was never there to begin with.

By the time we got married last year, I knew what was coming next.

Lex wanted Paige to be her mama.

I sat across from Lex at our dining table one evening, watching her nervously pick at the edges of her notebook while I helped her with homework. Paige was out at practice, and the house felt quiet.

“Mom?” Lex asked, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that always made me melt.

“Yeah, baby?”

She hesitated, chewing her lip before she let out a sigh, like she had the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. “I wanna ask Paige something. But I don’t know how.”

I leaned forward, resting my chin in my palm. “Well, that depends. What’s the question?”

She fiddled with the corner of her page before finally whispering, “I want her to be my mama. For real.”

My chest squeezed. I had a feeling this was coming, but hearing it out loud? It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I reached over, tucking her braids behind her ear. “Lex… she is your mama.”

“But, like, legally,” she clarified, her voice small but determined. “I wanna have her last name, too. Like you.”

That was it. I was done for.

I pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “She’s gonna be so happy, baby. You know how much she loves you, right?”

She nodded against my chest. “Yeah.”

I smiled. “Then just ask her. When she gets home.”

⸻

That night, Paige had barely stepped through the door, gym bag slung over her shoulder, when Lex practically ran into her.

“Whoa—what’s up, kid?” Paige laughed, steadying herself as Lex grabbed her hand.

“I have a question!” Lex announced, determined, dragging her to the couch. I followed behind, heart already full knowing what was about to happen.

Paige tossed me a playful, questioning look before sitting down. “Alright, hit me.”

Lex took a deep breath, looking Paige dead in the eye. “Can you adopt me?”

Silence.

Paige’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For the first time since I’d met her, she was speechless. Her gaze flickered to me for a second, as if checking to see if this was real.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna,” Lex added quickly, but I could see the hope in her eyes.

Paige snapped out of it. “Are you kidding?” She pulled Lex into her lap, cradling her face. “Lex, kiddo, I’d love to. More than anything.”

Lex’s smile was blinding, and I could already see the tears forming in Paige’s eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Paige whispered, pressing her forehead to Lex’s. “I’m already your mama, but I’d be honored to make it official.”

I watched them with my heart bursting, knowing that in that moment, we were truly a family in every way that mattered.

⸻

Fast forward to now, a year later, and Lex was officially Alexa (Your Last Name)-Bueckers. The paperwork was done, the name change finalized, and she couldn’t stop beaming when she saw it printed on her new school ID.

Everything was perfect—until Lex’s biological father, the one who had never been there, decided to crawl out of whatever hole he’d been in for the past decade.

And it all started with Paige’s radio interview.

Paige had just finished practice when she called me. “Babe,” she started, a little breathless, “I might’ve said something on the radio that’ll make headlines.”

I sighed, setting my phone between my ear and shoulder as I stirred dinner. “What’d you do now, Bueckers?”

“Well, the host asked about Lex,” she admitted. “And I kinda… called her my daughter. Like, really emphasized it.”

My stirring stopped. “Okay?”

Paige huffed. “I mean, I meant it, obviously. But I think it’s gonna be everywhere.”

I smiled. “Good. Let people know.”

That was the thing about Paige. She never saw Lex as anything less than hers. Not a stepdaughter, not just my kid—her kid.

The interview clip spread fast. In it, the host asked Paige what it was like being a WNBA player and a parent.

Paige, without missing a beat, said, “It’s the best thing in my life. I know she’s not biologically mine, but that doesn’t mean anything. Lex is my daughter. No paperwork or last name change will ever mean as much as what I already know in my heart—she’s mine.”

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

And it must’ve pissed off Lex’s deadbeat father, because suddenly, he was trying to be relevant again.

⸻

He messaged me the next day.

“So I just heard my daughter got adopted. Funny how no one told me.”

I stared at my phone, a bitter laugh escaping. Now he cared?

I typed back.

“She’s not your daughter. You didn’t even sign her birth certificate.”

He shot back.

“That doesn’t mean anything. You had no right.”

That was all it took. I went into my files and pulled up every receipt—missed child support payments, medical bills I paid alone, birthdays he skipped, the list went on.

I sent it all in one long, damning message.

“You haven’t been in her life for a single second. You don’t get to be mad now just because a real parent stepped up where you never did. If you cared, you would’ve acted like it years ago.”

He left me on read.

Exactly.

⸻

When I told Paige about it that night, she scoffed. “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I know, but I just hate that he’s even trying.”

Paige pulled me onto the couch, wrapping an arm around me. “He can try all he wants. It doesn’t change a thing.”

Lex popped her head into the room. “What doesn’t change a thing?”

Paige patted the seat between us, and Lex climbed up, curling into her side.

Paige kissed the top of her head. “That you’re my daughter. No matter what.”

Lex smiled, tucking into Paige’s shoulder. “I know that.”

I exchanged a look with Paige, and in that moment, I knew we’d won.

Not in a petty way—this was never about proving anything to a man who was never there.

It was about us.

Our family.

And nothing, no amount of bitterness or late attempts at relevance, could ever change that.

She was ours. Always.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[image-id-amateur]

[image 1-6 IDs]

Screenshots of a Reddit post from r/TrueOffMyChest by u/Empty-Ad-2301

First post reads: "I miss my husband so goddamn much. UPDATE I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest. I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another. They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left. I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?"

Next image continues post:

"hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise. EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative. Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month. Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach. EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened"

An update 3 days later reads

:UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago. Update from this post. EDIT 3: Got approved! Here's the FINAL UPDATE. Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression. I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to. We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years. What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*. I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted"

The update continues:

"someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious. We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed. I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though. I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me. Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3 EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update. EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not."

The next image shows a final update three days later. It reads:

"FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night. Update from this post. My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered. A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore. He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God"

The next image continues the post

"He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal. At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted. I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine. Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes."

[/End images 1-6]

[image 7 ID] an image of Kermit the frog laying on a bed spread, absolutely stricken and surrounded by hearts. [/End ID]

[w2soneshots]

Hello I was wondering if u can write a George Clarke fan fic based on the sidemen charity match and also I REALLY LOVE your writing it’s so amazing like I can never stop reading it like damnnnnnnnn

My man -George clarkey

words: 0.8k+

warnings: none!

summary: you watch George play in the sidemen charity match… along with all the trials and tribulations before and after the game.

notes: heyyy! Thank you love🫶🏼. I’ve done a match fic for Harry and I had a few people ask for a George one so of course I’m delivering, because he looked gorgeous🙂‍↕️. I hope you enjoy girlies!!💘💫

Liked by arthurtv, behzinga and others

y/username: my man scored at Wembley today!!🥹💗

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: 88th minute babyyy

max_balegde: don't you mean OUR man?!😌

-> y/username: hahaha of course Max😂

y/nfanpage21: he did so well omfg

user: THE MULLET. I'm gonna faint

"Good morning darling," George greeted you just as you opened your eyes. He stood looking down at you, already fully dressed in his kit. "I've got to go to breakfast but I'll see you before we leave," he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "love you."

You spent your morning slowly getting ready and he returned to your room just as you finished. You smiled as he walked towards you, arms extended for a hug. "Good luck baby. You'll be fine... don't stress too much," you whispered reassuringly before he hugged you tighter and then pulled back.

He let out a deep breath. "I'm shitting myself." You chuckled quietly. "I'm sure you won't be on long enough to fuck it up anyway," you joked. He playfully squeezed your hip. "Go and enjoy it. I'll see you afterwards. I love you," you spoke softly. He nodded then turned to leave, though he stopped himself, gave you a long kiss and only then did he leave.

y/username posted a new story!

"Oh my god. There he is!" You shouted -a little louder than you'd meant to- as you spotted George on the field, warming up with the rest of the sidemen team. Max perked up next to you and began filming him. You looked at the zoomed in screen and laughed loudly when you saw the picture he'd just taken. "That's hilarious, please send it to me."

y/username posted a new story!

George wasn't in the starting eleven for the game, but after a little while he was finally subbed in. You, Max, the two Arthur's, Bach and every fan girl in the stadium cheered when his name was called on the intercom.

You watched intently as the game progressed. It was a little bit hard to fully keep up with what was happening, since you were so high up, but your eyes just followed the brown, curly mullet.

When it reached half time everyone that was in one of the friends and family boxes headed inside to get some food. You were sat opposite max when you received a message from George, "everything good? x" You smiled slightly at your phone. "Just enjoying the free food. You're doing so well, everyone's cheering you on babe! xx" you replied swiftly.

y/username posted a new story!

After half time, the game continued. Goal after goal was scored and it was unbelievably close. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Just as it was nearing the end the score was even on eight all.

Tobi took a kick from the corner and then just as you thought it was going in George followed and kicked it into the net. "Ahh!" You all stood and cheered, your hand covering your mouth in shock.

You watched the screen to see the close up video of him celebrating, Chris and Will hugging him as well, even know they were on the opposite team. You were close to tears seeing how happy he looked. He'd been so nervous so you were glad he got his moment.

y/username posted a new story!

Unfortunately Theo scored just before the game finished, equalising. It went to penalties and ultimately the sidemen's team lost, though it was all for charity and you weren't really bothered about the final result since you just wanted to see your boyfriend.

y/username posted a new story!

y/username posted a new story!

You didn't see George after the game since he went back on the team bus with the rest of the players and you got a taxi to the after party with the Arthur's, Bach and Liv so you only got to see him once you were both back at the hotel.

When you finally saw the players walking through the doors your eyes searched the crowd of black and red kits until you saw him. A bright smile spread across the both of your faces when your eyes met.

The minute he reached you he flung his arms around you and sighed into your shoulder. "You were incredible George," you whispered. "That's made my year," he replied gently. You pulled back and kissed him, which is something you don't do often since nether of you are big on pda but it just felt right.

y/username posted a new story!

y/username posted a new story!

The rest of the night was spent celebrating and getting slightly pissed. As soon as you and George got back to your room and your heads hit the pillows you fell straight asleep, back against his chest; his arm wrapped around your middle while the both of you soundly slept, after one of the best days ever.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 39 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley would never forgive himself if you got hurt. It feels like he's been biding his time for ages, and his patience has worn thin. When Maverick returns to base, things finally start to change, but in whose favor?

Warnings: Angst, adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You settled on the couch with the new ultrasound photos from our appointment on Monday, eager to show them to your parents. But Bradley had other ideas.

"Roo," you hissed, pulling his hand away from your chest while you looked at your reflection on the iPad screen. "Knock it off."

"I'm horny," he whispered against your neck. You could hear the whine in his voice. He'd been very understanding when you told him that you needed to work late the past few days to help Cat, especially after you explained that she was bogged down with extra work because of Indigo. But now he was pouting on the couch with his other hand slipping into the back of your leggings while the call to your parents connected.

Your mom's voice rang out as Bradley grabbed your butt. "Hi!"

"Hi, Mom!" you replied, voice entirely too peppy as you tried to scoot away from your husband. You shot him a glare as he smirked and finally folded his hands in his lap. "How's packing going?"

"Oh, it's so stressful," she complained, going into a rant about all of the bins of things she'd been saving since you were a kid. You let her ramble, knowing she was secretly excited to be able to let Rose and the second baby play with your old toys someday after they moved to Coronado. Bradley and your dad sat quietly until your mom took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

Now you felt like pouting. They would be moved into their new house in time for Christmas but not Thanksgiving. "Probably making dinner for our friends. Just hanging out with everyone here," you told her with a shrug.

"No."

You turned to look at Bradley who was shaking his head. 

"What do you mean no?" you asked. "Are you going to cook Thanksgiving dinner for everyone? Your kitchen skills are much improved, Roo, but that seems a bit ambitious."

Bradley snorted and leaned in to kiss your cheek. "You're not cooking. I'm not cooking. We won't even be here, Baby Girl," he whispered. Then he turned to face the iPad. "I'm taking my girls away for an anniversary trip. We'll be gone that weekend."

Your mom looked like she was going to swoon. "Really?" you asked, letting his hand creep up your thigh toward your belly. "We're going away?"

Bradley's eyes held innocence as he grinned. "Yeah. Don't you remember when I asked you just the other day if you'd prefer the mountains or the lake?"

"Oh," you whispered. You did remember. He had been fingering you at the time, your pussy slick and full of his cum. When your cheeks grew warm, you realized you did not want to have the rest of this conversation with your parents listening in. "Yes, I do recall that, actually." You cleared your throat. "We should let you go. It's late."

"But we didn't get to talk to Rose!" your dad complained.

"She's still taking her after-dinner nap," you told him apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow! Love you!"

When you ended the call, Bradley was already tugging on your shirt. "Please," he murmured. "I'm so horny. I'll do anything you want. On the couch, in bed, in the shower, anything you want, Sweetheart."

"I want you to tell me where we're going, Roo," you replied sweetly as he pulled your shirt over your head and palmed your breasts through your sports bra. It was a wonder he could get hard right now after he'd seen you wearing your maternity tent less than an hour ago.

"Mountains," he grunted, pulling you closer.

You knew he was planning something, but you didn't know it was already worked out. "I'm impressed," you told him as you carefully removed your bra. "You did this all by yourself?"

"Nothing's too good for my girls." His voice was raspy, already fading into the silent room as he eased you onto his lap. You fed Rose not terribly long ago. You were tired. Your breasts weren't very perky at the moment. But Bradley moaned as soon as his lips met your nipple. His cock was hard against your thigh as you settled in.

With his big hand splayed along the side of your growing bump, you let him get his fill of rubbing his nose and mustache all over your chest. Your back arched as he started grinding his hips up to yours.

"Does this mean we can get nasty on the couch?" he whispered, flashing his brown eyes up to yours. When you giggled, he added, "It's been days." Part of you wanted to tell him that your back hurt and you couldn't handle getting twisted into a pretzel right now, but you slid down to the floor between his legs, his eyes tracking your every move. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, a little grin finding his lips as you tugged on the waistband of his gym shorts.

"Stop acting like you don't know I'm about to suck your dick," you whispered, trying not to laugh as his cock bobbed out from his underwear.

A soft sound at the back of his throat spurred you on. He simultaneously scooted his hips closer to you while he settled back against the couch. "I didn't want to assume," he murmured, eyes wide as you took him between your parted lips. "Fuck. I'm so spoiled."

You hummed your response around his cock which had his head tipping back as he reached for your face. Big, calloused fingers brushed along your cheek before trailing to the back of your head. You controlled the pace, but that bit of pressure from his excited hand made you suck a little harder just to hear his appreciation.

Long, languid strokes had Bradley's restraint slipping. After he tapped the back of your throat his hips rose incrementally from the couch. When your tongue circled his tip, his hips were up again. He was eager to cum, so you slowed your pace.

"Jesus," he whimpered, balls tightening as you sucked on them. You could feel your saliva drip down his cock to your face as you ran your tongue in circles. "Keep this up, and you'll never not be pregnant, Sweetheart."

Before you could react, Bradley was pulling you to your feet, careful not to be too rough. He yanked your leggings down and guided you back to his lap.

He was big and thick, but your body welcomed him as he filled your pussy. "You're getting a vasectomy after this one, Roo."

He gasped, whether from your words or from the way your pussy was already squeezing around him with need, you weren't sure. You wanted to reiterate that two kids was plenty for you and he to handle, but his palm met your butt, guiding you in a slow roll that erased all thoughts from your brain.

"We'll talk about that later," he crooned, kissing your lips softly. "Right now, I want you to think about how bad you need me." You moaned in spite of yourself at his cocky words. "I want you to think about how good Daddy takes care of his girls."

"Oh, god," you whimpered, bouncing on his cock. "You do. You do," you babbled. One swipe of his finger along your clit, and you were seeing stars. Hadn't he been the one begging for this? How did you become the needy one right now? "Fuck!"

You were panting as he guided you along, taking you for everything you had until your face was buried against his neck to quiet yourself as you came. He knew what to do, and he was too good at it, pinching and plucking your clit until your hips rolled to a stop as your pussy squeezed him gently.

When you opened your eyes, you were still dizzy as Bradley held you. Your pussy was slick with his cum, both of you spent as his hand settled on the side of your belly.

"We'll circle back to that vasectomy conversation later," he whispered as you laughed softly with his cock still inside you. "Right now, I don't want you to move an inch."

"That's convenient," you mumbled, "because I think my bones are jello." You snuggled in closer, eyelids heavy, but Bradley's body jerked beneath you.

"Holy shit," he gasped, sitting more upright as you grabbed his shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"I can feel her," he whispered, his hand trailing along your belly, pressing firmly. "I can feel our daughter moving."

You were so used to her almost-constant squirming, it took you a beat to realize that she was turning somersaults below your ribcage, but she was moving a lot. Bradley's gaze met yours, and a beaming smile filled his face as he adjusted his hand an inch higher.

"She's moving a lot, Roo. I think she likes your voice."

Tears glittered in your husband's eyes, and you kissed his cheeks. It felt so good to be back on solid ground in your relationship. Perhaps you never had anything to worry about, but moments like this one were priceless to you.

"I love you so much," Bradley promised, his lips finding yours, kissing you through his words. "I love my girls. This is the best fucking day."

When Rose started crying to eat again, you finally crawled from your husband's lap. But he followed you into the nursery, claiming, "I want to be close to the three of you." He barely left your side for the rest of the night.

-----------------------------

Bradley was still stressed out about Indigo. He didn't really think about her when he was at home, but when he got to work and saw her lurking about, his anxiety seemed to spike. Today, she was outside his classroom when the others filed in for his lecture. He wondered how much longer the little scheme you and Cat worked up could possibly keep her on the ground. He still didn't have all the details, not that he wanted them, but he knew better. She would be back in the air by the end of the year. And he hadn't heard a word about his complaints against her.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," Indigo sang, setting Bradley's teeth on edge. He had to take deep breaths and remind himself that he couldn't rage at her. When he thought about how he spent last night feeling the baby kicking, he calmed down.

"Lieutenant Jeffries. I trust you haven't forgotten you're not permitted in my classroom?"

Her smirk was obnoxious. "Of course not, Sir. I was just simply stopping by to inform you that your superior is back." Her smirk turned into a bright, joyful smile. "And I'm going to stop by his office."

Maverick was back from Lemoore. Mav was back, and somehow Indigo knew about it before he did. While that rubbed him the wrong way, Bradley thought perhaps things could move along faster now. Maybe there was a way out of this whole mess. He wanted his life to go back to normal again. He needed it.

"Enjoy your morning, Lieutenant Jeffries. Don't forget to stay out of the aviators' lounge."

Bradley closed the door softly instead of slamming it, and then he got his notes out. The other students were eager to hear what he had planned. Even Spice seemed to have distanced herself from Indigo which was interesting; perhaps she valued her career more than a toxic friend. Bradley wrote some notes on the board and got to work. 

What was supposed to be a two hour long discussion with the group was cut short halfway through. When he walked around the classroom, pausing to answer a question, Bradley's gaze was drawn toward the window. He saw you outside in the sunlight near the hangar. It was impossible to miss you in your maternity uniform, not that he would ever tell you that, but even the curve of your cheek was unmistakable to him.

God, you were fucking perfect. His heart skipped around in his chest as he watched you turn back toward your office, and he crept closer to the window for a better look. He couldn't wait until lunchtime so he could sit with you.

Then his back went ramrod straight, and Bradley froze. Indigo walked past you, checking your shoulder with hers. "What the fuck?" Bradley snarled under his breath. Indigo kept walking like she hadn't just intentionally run into you. You. A pregnant woman. Bradley's pregnant wife. "You're all dismissed," he barked, heading for the classroom door as quickly as he could walk. Once he was in the hallway, he was running for the exit in the atrium.

The sunlight was blinding, but he saw you immediately. When he called your name, you turned to him and smiled. Indigo was nowhere in sight now as he ran to get to you. 

"Are you okay?" he demanded, touching your shoulder before letting his hand settle on your belly.

"Yeah, I just had to take something to Cat. Why are you out of breath?" you asked, kissing his cheek softly before he wrapped you up in a hug. "What's going on, Bradley?"

He kissed along your forehead and said, "I saw Indigo plow into you through the window. She did it intentionally."

"Oh. Yeah. She does that all the time. I wish she'd just hit me in the face already, because I'm not about to retaliate."

Bradley held you at arm's length, eyes wide. "Don't say that! I don't want her laying a finger on you!"

You took a deep breath and sighed. "You know none of this would be a problem if you weren't so sexy, right?" Bradley's cheeks felt warm as you tucked yourself against him again. "I need to get back to my lab, but I'll see you at lunch. We can start discussing baby names."

As you strolled away, Bradley once again felt terrible that you were in this mess with him.

----------------------------

You didn't want Bradley worrying any more than he always was, but Indigo did hit your shoulder pretty hard this time. You were still rubbing it when you walked into your building and headed for the elevators. 

It felt like you were trapped in some realm filled with optical illusions; somehow Indigo was standing in front of the elevator buttons. How she got inside so quickly was beyond you.

"Excuse me," you told her, trying to reach for the up arrow with your chin held high, but she didn't move. "You're in my way."

"How does it feel knowing your husband fucked me in his office?" she whispered. Your hand stilled in the air as you met her horrible, blue eyes. "How does it feel knowing I can have him whenever I want? Every Monday after his office hours. This past Monday was something else. Would you like some details?"

It made you physically sick that she thought she had some sort of grasp on you and Bradley. It would be nice to hit her in the face instead of the other way around. But you knew she was lying. She was grasping at straws. Bradley had skipped his office hours on Monday in favor of joining you for your appointment with Dr. Morris just like he always did. The woman in front of you was beyond ridiculous.

"Do you want to know the details?" she demanded. "Answer me."

"I don't answer to you!" Your voice had her taking a step back until she hit the wall between the elevator doors. "I outrank you in every way."

"You can't do this to me," she hissed. "You think you're an admiral on a power trip or something, but you can't ground me indefinitely, Lieutenant Commander."

Just as your lips parted, ready to put her in her place, you heard boots squeak in the polished floor to your left. You glanced that way to see the confident stride of Bradley's godfather as Maverick yanked his aviators off. His gaze was like steel as he stopped at your side.

"Maybe she doesn't quite have the power to ground you indefinitely, but I certainly do, Lieutenant Jeffries."

"Sir," she complained with a pout, "you don't understand what she's trying to do to me. She grounded me and my Super Hornet, Captain Mitchell. She's trying to ruin my career for no good reason. Her commanding officer should be informed that she's manipulating things the way she wants them when I've done nothing wrong."

You were seeing red. She was the one who started this whole thing, not you. And she was the one who kept trying to goad you on because she didn't get what she wanted. And now she was trying to make you look bad in front of Mav. You couldn't tell if you were about to laugh or cry.

"Enough," Mav barked. "I don't want to hear another word. One conversation with her commanding officer, and you'll be eating your words, Lieutenant Jeffries. And do you honestly think anything happens to one of the Super Hornets in the Pacific fleet without me knowing about it?"

Instead of a verbal response, Indigo blushed bright pink and shook her head slowly.

Maverick cleared his throat and lowered his volume a bit. "Someone in your position should be keeping a low profile, but you can't seem to help yourself."

"Someone in my position?" she asked, her gaze flickering your way briefly.

Shaking his head, Maverick said, "I've never seen a harassment case against a subordinate open and close so quickly."

"What?" Indigo squeaked, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

"It seems you have a history of behaving poorly around your male superiors," Maverick added. "I was going to let you save face and have this conversation in my office this afternoon, but it's a little too late for that. Maybe things worked in your favor in the past. You seem the type who got used to getting their own way. But that kind of behavior doesn't belong at Top Gun. And you were barking up the wrong tree with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw from the beginning. Not only is he happily married, his wife has more friends and allies on base than you'll ever know about. Pack your locker and meet me in my office. You're going back to Texas today."

"Texas!" Indigo wailed. "I'm too good for that program."

Maverick reached around her for the elevator button. "I wouldn't worry about that. You're about to learn that the Navy is too good for you. Now get out of my sight."

It felt like everything shifted as you watched Indigo storm away. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to fold in on herself. It was a far cry from her usual behavior as Maverick guided you into the elevator with him when the doors opened.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, tipping your chin up so you met his eyes. "I really didn't mean for you to hear all of that."

"I'm okay," you whispered before wrapping your arms around him as tears leaked from your eyes. "Thanks for looking out for Bradley and me."

He kissed your forehead as you cried. "You're family. I'll always do what I can." When the doors slid open, you realized you were on your floor. Maverick wrapped his arms around your shoulders, guiding you along to your office. Your fingers were shaking as you unlocked the door. "I'll text Bradley and see if he can stop by," he said, following you inside where you sank into your desk chair with your hands on your belly.

"Is she out?" you whispered, completely exhausted as you took deep breaths. "Is Indigo out of the Navy?"

Maverick sighed and tucked his phone away again. "That's up to the admirals in Texas, but if I had to wager a guess... probably."

It seemed wild to you that she would risk it all for something as trivial as a hookup, but then again, Bradley always was irresistible to you. At one point, you were willing to risk everything you'd worked toward since your years at the Naval Academy to be with him. You'd even announced to the entire control room on an aircraft carrier that he was the man for you. But he was yours. He was Rose's. He was the baby's. Indigo wasn't going to get away with even testing the waters.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sitting there reflecting on things with Mav perched on the edge of your desk, but it must have been several minutes. When you heard heavy footfalls in the hallway, you looked at your open doorway as your husband came rushing inside.

"Are you okay?" he asked, panting and sweaty. He barely looked at Maverick before dropping to his knees next to your chair. "Did she hurt you?"

"Jeez, Mav," you murmured as the other man headed for the door. "What did you tell him?" you asked, referring to the text he'd sent to Bradley. 

"I told him you needed him," Maverick replied with a chuckle before closing the door on his way out.

"I swear to God," Bradley growled, focused on your face. "If she hurt you-"

"She didn't," you promised, cupping his cheek. "I promise we're just fine."

He was still everything you wanted. Almost two years married, and Bradley was worth every bit of this trouble. His lips found your belly through your ugly tent, kissing along until his cheek came to rest there. "That's good," he rasped as your fingers combed through his hair. "Hopefully they'll take my complaints against her seriously. I can barely stand coming to work knowing she's giving you a hard time."

"She's out, Bradley." He flashed his brown eyes up to your face. "Maverick is sending her back to Texas where they'll decide what happens to her."

He gave you a satisfied groan as he nuzzled your belly, kissing you a million times. Then his head came to rest in your lap, and you could feel the tension slowly release from his body for the first time in months as you held onto him.

"Just let me stay here with you for a while. Okay, Baby Girl?"

--------------------------

Have fun in Texas, Indigo! Nobody is going to miss you. I feel like BG should get to keep her Super Hornet out of principle. BUT, the most important part of the chapter is the fact that Bradley got to feel the baby! ALSO, next chapter may be the last one in this series.

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[juricel]

requesting precorrupt smc x reader x corrupt smc... 🙏🙏 do whatever!!

a/n: I apologize for the late reply! I have finally gotten artistic inspiration, but in exchange for my writing inspiration. there's not much content warning in this post aside from the slight canon divergence, because obviously, two versions of shadow milk cookie won't exist in a single universe, that would be, simply put, a destiny much horrifying than hell itself.

— corrupt! shadow milk cookie x reader x pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie

𖦁 pre! corrupt shadow milk cookie, in all his decadent rot, would not hesitate to part with a morsel, for after all, it isn’t cheating, is it? since it is still him, however, in an alternate universe. ah, but the latter on the other hand... corrupt! shadow milk cookie harbors a less benign disposition. even if it is an echo, a mere specter of his own self, the act of sharing you provokes discontent, nor was it in his in his written script; for you, in your ineffable singularity, are /his/. and his alone. It matters not if the proposed rascal being woven through your relationship was an alternate version of himself; the principle remains immutable — you are HIS. and no, you don't get to a say on this, who even are you to set such boundaries?

𖦁 It wasn't possessiveness, no, not at all! such word was not in his dictionary; it was simply put an unvarnished statement of what was blatantly true, and if pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie couldn’t handle such a reality, then let him return to where he came from and rot into ashes of flour, forgotten. he had no intention of sharing you with anyone—anyone—not even with a version of himself. If pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie desired you so intensely, why not settle for an alternate version of you, hmm? let him make do with that. and if he didn’t like it... well! that, my dear, was certainly not his problem, was it? let him stew in his discontent. the truth had been laid bare before him, as it was meant to be, and if it stung—well, that’s the nature of truths, isn’t it? not something to be coddled or softened for his fragile sensibilities. his discomfort was of no concern to you, nor to him. however, much to his displeasure, it was not as if pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie would simply leave. no, for after all, you were first his, and abandoning you to the clutches of greedy and possessive hands was not part of his modus operandi—not at all. he was not the sort to let go so easily, nor was he inclined to stand by while others claimed what was rightfully his.

𖦁 the two are like little rascals, always caught in some petty exchange, either passively-aggressively bickering or downright squabbling—yet, curiously, never once resorting to anything physical in spite of their frequent squabbles.

𖦁 neither of them intend to leave, so brace yourself for frequent invasions of privacy. pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie is the more polite of the two—if only slightly—but still finds amusement in your predicament, indulging in it much to your displeasure... corrupt! shadow milk cookie, on the other hand, has abandoned even the pretense of respect, constantly attempting to pry you away from pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie's "grubby" hands. very frankly, this arrangement could have worked—if corrupt! shadow milk cookie was the type to tolerate such things. but alas, sharing has never been his strong suit, and the very idea grates against him like an insult. a lingering glance, a presence too close—unforgivable, the mere thought of sharing isn’t just unwelcome—it’s absurd. for in the first place, there was never anyone else to begin with until now.

𖦁 pre-corrupt! shadow milk cookie tries, truly, he does... but his efforts are mostly futile. no matter the approach, the reasoning, or the circumstance, it’s simply a concept that refuses to take root in corrupt! shadow milk cookie’s mind. sharing is not something he does—not naturally. however, on the rarest of occasions, in moments few and far between, he does allow it. but make no mistake—such generosity is fleeting, and it is never without cost.

a/n: i genuinely forgot i had tumblr... anyway, the new cookie is so adorbs and she's so good in living abyss too!! i fear pumpkin pie cookie's place in my top 3 is getting taken...

[quintessenceofdust88]

Priorities

(okay, so remember this ficlet? I finished it 🤭 and it's basically 1800 words of Tommy being me and saying everything I wish I could say to Eddie Diaz about the way he treats his supposed best friend. But since I'm a relentless optimist, I gave Eddie a slight redemption at the end. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for how much love you gave the first part! I hope this part lives up to your expectations ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. 

When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

"Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up."

Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. 

"Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..."

"Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him"

Eddie stares at Tommy, completely stunned and, if he’s being honest, not just a little offended. He and Buck have been best friends for years; who does Tommy think he is to chime in, especially after he broke Buck’s heart the way he did months ago? 

“Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” Eddie demands, trying to keep his voice low. “Buck is my best friend, everybody knows that.”

“You know what, Eddie? My bad, you are right.” Tommy says, but Eddie doesn’t feel relieved; he seems far from done. “Evan is your best friend; he supports your decisions, he’s always there for you, worrying about you and your kid, going above and beyond to make sure you’re okay.”

The words leaving Tommy’s mouth should have been positive, but for some reason, they’re bringing a deep blush to Eddie’s cheeks and a weird feeling to his stomach. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s feeling ashamed. 

“Okay, so what are you saying?” He asks, and Tommy stares at Eddie as if he’s being particularly stupid. 

“What I’m saying, Diaz, is that Evan is your best friend, but there’s no way you can claim to be his best friend. I’m not even sure you could claim to be his friend.”

“That’s not fair”, Eddie hisses in response, but that inconvenient blush is still stuck to his cheeks. 

“No, what’s not fair is making him keep your moving to Texas a secret, then treating him as expendable, then being mad when he finally snapped, and then just ‘forgiving’ him for something you should be apologizing for when he once more proved himself useful to you by taking your house”

Eddie stares at Tommy, mouth agape. That’s certainly not how he remembers things happening. 

“I… I was doing what was best for Chris. He… He didn’t have the right to make it about himself” Eddie says, but it now sounds weak even to his ears.

“Oh no, Eddie, as far as you’re concerned, Evan never has the right to make anything about himself. It’s all you, isn’t it? He babysits your son. You two talk about your plans, your feelings, your problems. Did you ever even have a conversation with him about our break-up? Did you even once ask him how he was handling it, if he was suffering?”

Eddie tries to remember those few weeks between their break-up and his moving, and he’s ashamed  when he realizes that he doesn’t remember asking Buck how he felt. All he remembers is the incessant baking.

“I…”

“Don’t bother”, Tommy says, raising a hand. “I know you didn’t. Because you, and everyone else, want Evan to always be happy and ready to help you with your problems. And when he dares to ask for help with his own things, of letting his insecurities be known, you accuse him of making everything about him. Of being exhausting.”

The word hits hard for Eddie, and he remembers a fight from so many years ago. He frowns, looking at Tommy, whose expression is harsh, his arms crossed, not a single line of the softness Eddie is used to from him. This is Tommy in protective mode, but Eddie had never expected it to be aimed at himself. It’s not fun, to say the least. 

“Did… Did he tell you about that?” He asks, and guilt is pooling up in his chest. 

“He wasn’t going to; I got it out of him when he asked me if I had left because he was exhausting,” Tommy says, and Eddie can see some of his guilt mirrored in Tommy’s eyes before he closes them and takes a deep sigh. “Look, I wasn’t perfect with him either, but you, Eddie? You were supposed to be his best friend”

“Tommy, I… I never realized…”

“No. And you never would, because he’s so used to this treatment that he’d never say anything. It’s the normal between the two of you. Except there’s nothing normal about it” Tommy laughs a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “God, Eddie, when he told me how he had ended up living at your place… The way he told it. Putting himself down, saying you were right on calling him out for ‘making everything about me, like I always do’. Like he had been a tantrum-throwing child, like you had been so good for forgiving him after he solved a problem of yours for the millionth time. You could barely say thank you. I asked, and he said you ‘shouldn’t have to thank him anyway, cause that’s what friends do’. That’s the man you like to call selfish.”

Eddie’s heart feels frozen in his chest. He wants to fight back, and wants to give Tommy examples of times he was there for Buck as well, but, to his immense despair, he’s coming up short. He’s about to mention putting Buck on his will, but he can see Tommy saying that was more for his benefit than Buck’s, and he’d be right. Eddie also thinks of telling him about how he handled Buck’s coming out, but… Is that something he should be that proud of? It was basic human decency, nothing else. 

When was the last time their friendship was about what Buck needed? Eddie can’t remember, if there ever was one in the first place. 

As guilt and shame take over him, he runs a hand through his face, and looks back at Tommy. In a way, he’s grateful; grateful that Buck found someone who’s that willing to defend him, but it makes Eddie feel awful that he’s the one who Buck needs to be defended from. And the worst part is that he knows, absolutely knows for a fact, that Buck hasn’t asked Tommy to say any of that. 

“I… I made him feel less than, didn’t I? When… When I left like that” He says, and Tommy nods, his expression finally softening a bit. 

“Look, he gets it. I get it. Chris is your priority. But Evan is mine, and him taking me back was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m sorry, Eddie, but I won’t let him be treated like that anymore. Not by you, not by anyone. He deserves better.”

Eddie finds himself nodding numbly. Tommy is right; Buck deserves better. From the 118, from his parents, but from him. Eddie has to step up. 

“He does. I… I’m sorry” He says pathetically, and Tommy only shrugs. 

“Don’t tell that to me, tell it to him. But let me tell you that it won’t make much of a difference. He doesn’t think you have anything to be sorry for.” Tommy says, and the worst part is that Eddie knows it’s true, which makes him feel even guiltier. “So instead of being sorry, do better”

He doesn’t have much time to mull on Tommy’s words before Buck is back, announcing the nachos are finally ready and that he had to re-do the guacamole three times before it was perfect.

And as he drops the bowls on the coffee center table, then gives Tommy a quick peck, Eddie looks at them. The way Tommy instantly smiled when Buck entered the room, as if the tension is out of him now that he told Eddie what was on his mind; the way he wraps his arm around Buck’s waist and Buck leans against his shoulder. The way he intently listens to Buck explaining what exactly went wrong with the first two guacamole batches, the way he praises Buck for finally getting it right. 

Eddie sighs and does his best to join their conversation as if nothing has happened. Watching the two of them, the way Buck smiles so easily, his eyes never leaving Tommy, and how content his best friend looks, how sure of himself, Eddie realizes that yes, he has to do better by Buck, because they’ve been friends for years and he hasn’t been very good at it. But one thing he knows for sure: Buck is not alone. 

He is finally someone’s priority. 

Ppl who were interested/asked to be tagged: @azaharinflames @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @iredastead @exhaustedpirate @dum-amo-vivo9 @neverstopschanging @walkedthroughfires @aar-journey @justahumblecabbagemerchant @styxhuntress @sgprfan

[hellsquills]

Do you think Ford knew how old he was when he came back? Because I don't think so.

He's been all around the multiverse, in places that definitely didn't follow the laws of physics of his home dimension. Time works differently depending on the place he lands on, and he never gets used to any of them because he knows he'll have to leave sooner or later.

So time passes. He can feel himself age, of course, but he doesn't know how long it's been since he fell through the portal. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can see wrinkles paired with new scars, and his hair is getting grayer, but that could simply be a sign of stress. And sure, his body hurts when he wakes up, but he's constantly on the move and sleeping anywhere he can, obviously he's not going to be in the best shape! All things considered, he's a pretty fit man for any age, and whatever years he's been alive for is not his priority right now.

When he comes back home, after his first encounter with Stan, he finally gets a moment to think about his new and old family. His brother looks older, obviously, and certainly different from what he imagined (not that he thought about him often, of course not). His hair is whiter than his own, and he has even more wrinkles than him! Just how badly was he taking care of himself in the... how many years... wait, did he say 30?!

I don't think Ford was necessarily thinking of a higher or lower number. I don't think he expected anything more or less: the way he sees it, it could've been anywhere from 10 to 1000 years. Time was meaningless between dimensions. I think that the sole reminder that time still passed was what got to him.

That shock came full force after Weirdmageddon, when he realized that Stan was his same age, despite the differences in their physiques. It was the fact that they were both around 60 years old, and they had been apart for 40 years. Two whole thirds of their lives. They were supposed to grow old together, maybe not in the same house (or boat), but close to each other. That, paired with how old and worn down Stan looks, Ford can't help but feel like he's now years younger than him, and he hates thinking about it because with the way Stan had been living for the last 40 years, just how much longer- no, stop, don't think about it.

Ford's paranoia turns into hypochondria, but towards his brother. This translates as Ford desperately trying to cut Stan's bad habits (such as alcohol and smoking), making sure he eats well (Ford can't cook for shit) and semi-forcing him to do some exercise. Stan is not on board with these measures, and he lets his brother know just that because he's being bossy and annoying and he would like to enjoy his amnesia in peace please. Ford is as stubborn as a mule, but eventually he gives up and just begs Stan to please consider some of his suggestions because he wants him to be better. Stan still refuses, but every once in a while Ford catches him doing some exercise by himself or ordering a non alcoholic drink, and it makes him happy.

When they return to Gravity Falls, the twins look the most identical they've looked since they were like 10: Stan's eyes have a shine that Soos had never seen before, and his new and improved posture makes him look taller, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of him. Ford, on the other hand, has a fuller face and body, his expression is now softer and somewhat kinder, and he walks much more carelessly, like he's strolling instead of marching.

Ford doesn't care how old he is anymore, because now he's growing old next to his brother.

[monzterpup]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING

NICE! . . . E.W

summary; baking lessons with ellie get messy!

pairing; baker!ellie x fem!reader

cw; very slight usage of y/n! (i'm sorry). food play. dom!ellie. top!ellie. oral!r (receiving). fingering!r (receiving). mdni.

w/c; 1.4k

a/n; hi cuties! this is kinda uhh horrible! i made this in literally one day bc i wanted to post something for u guys so bad. writers block has been a bitch lately! sorry this isn't dark content and kind of boring :( i promise some is coming soon! this is also a little short so sorry about that too. lowkey expecting this to flop buttt i hope u enjoy it anyways lovelies <3 (not proofread, i apologize if there are any mistakes. eventually, i will go back and edit it but rn i can’t be bothered lol.)

you didn't have a clue about baking. and, this was a real disadvantage to you since one of your friends was having a small get together where all of you were going to bake cupcakes, brownies, cookies, whatever sweets you could think of.

your friends did these every month and you were tired of missing out; miserably tapping through each one of their instagram stories while you sat at home in bed, rotting.

so, you did what any other reasonable person would've done, and you scheduled yourself a baking lesson. just a one on one with you and... and ellie.

ellie was a baker that you found through instagram, who just so happened to live merely 15 minutes away from you.

y/n_l/n: hey! just saw one of your vids, you do lessons right? i was wondering, if we live somewhat close, you could give me one? my friends are having a small bake day this saturday, so it would have to be before then. no pressure, thank you!

after a while of scrolling through your page and, well, maybe getting a little turned on by some of your very-obvious, attention seeking bikini posts-- at least, to her-- she decided that she was going to give you a lesson for free.

ellie.w.bakes: sorry for getting back to you so late. i would love to! thursday, 12:30 sound alright to you? here's my address if you're still interested. [1 attachment: ellie.w.bakes location]

y/n_l/n: yup! i'll be there. also, looks like we only live about 15 minutes away from each other. haha, that worked out. thank you so much!

and you were there; there sitting in your car, 15 minutes early, parked in front of ellie's house, trying to calm yourself down before the lesson. god, why was this making you so nervous all of a sudden? maybe it was the thought of her in an apron, with her hair pulled back, hands kneading the soft, floury dough-- okay, this was getting out of hand.

as you— finally— made your way up to ellie's front door, the spring air delved around your not-so-calm body, but the delicate breeze did help your sweating a little bit.

you knocked on the door, which was painted a nice, light cream color, complimenting the rest of her home.

when ellie opened the door, you froze. she looked exactly how you pictured her. in an apron, hair pulled back... just hot.

you don't know why you froze. it was like you weren't expecting her to actually answer or something. even though you booked this class three days ahead of time.

"y'alright there, angel face? looks like y've seen a ghost. come on in, i promise i don't bite." ellie's words were laced with a crooked grin and a smug tone. they snapped you out of your embarrassingly obvious staring and back into reality.

"right, yes. thank you."

as you made your way through ellie's home, you took note of the the strong vanilla scent, probably coming from the kitchen, which attacked your nostrils immediately. not in a bad way, it wasn't a bad smell. it was just a lot.

ellie's eyes drank your form in as you walked in front of her. one thing she noticed, you definitely didn't edit those instagram posts she was stalking. every single part of your body, head to toe, looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves.

once the two of you made it to the kitchen, ellie sweetly took your purse and coat, hanging them up on a nearby shelf. what a gentlewoman.

your smile was almost as sweet as the cupcakes you were about to make, and ellie couldn't get enough of it. every time you flashed your pearly whites at her, she swore she almost fainted.

and every time ellie's skilled, slim fiingers sunk into the buttery dough to knead it deftly had you biting your lip. this lesson wasn't going well at all. how were you supposed to learn a thing when you were so pathetically distracted by her hands?

maybe it was just you. maybe you were the perverted one for thinking all of this. no, no. she was definitely trying to shove it in your face.

after you finished the lesson and grabbed your purse, you walked over to ellie to thank her and ask how much it was going to cost.

"so, how much will this be? i could venmo, or i have cash--"

ellie cut you off, "don't you worry ‘bout that, sweetie pie. beginner lessons are always free." psh, no they're not.

you gave her a confused tilt of your head. surely that wasn't true. "a-are you sure? it's really no problem, i could just pay you and get it over with."

"i'm serious. plus, i was thinking you could repay me in a different way. i was a pretty swell teacher, wasn't i?"

and this was exactly how you ended up naked, panties down to your ankles, heels kicked off to somewhere else in the kitchen, and whipped cream covering both of your nipples.

ellie’s hungry mouth latched onto one of your cream covered nipples and slurped up every drop of whipped cream like her life depended on it.

your manicured nails dug into the back of her head, forcing her mouth down onto your boob as she sucked and licked all over it.

“ellie, please,” your needy bitching and whining finally reached ellie’s lust filled ears.

“mm?” she hummed in curiosity while lifting her head up. “what is it, doll?”

you huffed in frustration. “y-your fingers. please. fingers, mouth… anything.”

“good girl, telling me what she wants.” ellie reached over on the counter to grab some strawberries that you had just used to bake, then placed them in a neat line leading down to your dripping pussy, which was currently clenching around nothing. cute.

the final cold strawberry was placed on your cunt and you let out a little gasp. it had been ages since someone treated you this good, with so much patience and delicacy.

ellie made intense eye contact with you as she ate her way down to your pussy, her green eyes glaring up into yours with so much hunger, she almost didn’t look like a human, just a starved beast.

when ellie’s tongue reached the final strawberry that was so perfectly placed on top of your aching clit, she took a tiny bite out of it first, then pressed it down with her teeth, the pressure making your clit twitch and throb even more than it already was.

“prettiest pussy i ever seen in m’life. looks so delicious,” and ellie took that seriously. because when she started eating you out, it was like your brain short circuited. she wasn’t afraid to get messy at all. she really treated your cunt like it was the best meal she had ever tasted in her life.

you arched your back up and lifted your hips off of the counter only to buck them towards ellie’s mouth, needing more. “f-fuck, ellie!” strangled moans strung from your throat and echoed throughout the whole kitchen.

ellie kept one thumb rubbing at your clit while she detached her juice covered mouth from your pussy to instead shove two fingers inside of your sopping hole.

“sucking me in so, so good, baby. you got it…” she praised and whispered sweetly as if she didn’t just force two long fingers into your guts.

“ah!” you hissed sharply. the bone and skin of ellie’s fingers stuffed you up just the right amount, not too much, not too little. and she was right, your pussy swallowed up her fingers up fast.

ellie started erratically pumping her digits in and out of your tight, little hole, leaving you rolling your eyes into the back of your head and trying to hump her hand.

“shit, shit, shit! els, g-g’nna cum!”

she gently grabbed your spazzing hips and relaxed them a little. “yeah, that’s good, that’s good. let me see that sweet pussy cum. give it to me, baby.”

and you did. your cum came gushing out of your pussy in hot floods, completely coating and drenching ellie’s wrist in your liquid.

“shit, there you go. look at that.” ellie slowed her fingers down, letting you ride out your orgasm and making sure to milk you dry before finally pulling out.

ellie brought her fingers up to her (already) dripping mouth and licked her fingers clean of your sweet, sweet cum, followed up by a:

“tastes just like vanilla frosting. can y’give me another one before you gotta go, babe?”

[pomegranatelifethis]

Morbid thoughts but imagine no notices the princess's corpse for a while. Only for people in the palace to notice when the stench of rotten flesh starts feeling the halls through the cracks and vents.

And maybe Bruce or one of the boys notices. And they realize that's the scent of a DEAD body.

Let's say something like this happened

The castle had always held its share of secrets, but none as horrifying as this. At first, the servants whispered about the strange scent lingering in the halls—perhaps damp stone, spoiled food, or something forgotten in the cellars. But as the days passed, the stench grew stronger, seeping through the cracks in the walls, spreading through the vents, until ignoring it was no longer an option.

Bruce Wayne, the hardened ruler of the kingdom, was among the first to recognize it. He had smelled death before—on battlefields, in dungeons, in the aftermath of war. And this… this was the unmistakable scent of rotting flesh.

His sons noticed it too. Jason’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, unease settling deep in his gut. Damian narrowed his eyes, his voice cold and sharp. “That smell… it’s coming from inside the palace.”

Tim and Dick exchanged a glance before they all moved toward the source of the stench, their footsteps heavy with growing dread.

And then, they found it.

A forgotten room, sealed away from prying eyes. A chamber that had long since ceased to hold any significance—until now.

Inside, lying in what had become her unmarked grave, was the decayed body of the princess.

A sister. A daughter. A member of their bloodline, abandoned and cast aside, left to wither away in silence. No one had remembered her. No one had even thought to check.

Her death had gone unnoticed—until her rotting corpse had finally demanded to be acknowledged.

Dick swallowed hard, while Tim took a shaky step back. Jason clenched his jaw, fury bubbling beneath his grief.

Damian turned to Bruce, his young face twisted with anger and accusation. “How did you not notice?”

But Bruce said nothing. Because that question had already been ringing in his mind, long before anyone had spoken it aloud.