#i also didn't like one commenter pointing out typos

[halfelven]

love random not even logged in readers just dropping their 'constructive criticism' on your 100k+ story that you're putting online entirely for free. this is just a rant btw

"You obviously have a great talent and I think you should work on honing it some. As much as I’ve enjoyed the story, there are a few things that stand out that you might consider looking at. I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven? It doesn’t flow smoothly because sometimes we have these wonderful character vignettes, like Illumi and Kalluto on a road trip or Kite/Leorio/Gon/Killua in an apartment where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats, like Kalluto and the spiders. In addition, it contributes to confusion because sometimes we see established characterization turned on its head. Especially the weird way everyone all of a sudden just sort of was OK with Kalluto being a spider and then working with Illumi when they just went to all that trouble to escape him? It all kind of feels forced and not natural. You know?

Anyway, I’ll definitely keep reading and look forward to seeing what happens."

first: love you trying to sound legitimate with your "in addition" like this is some kind of writer's workshop. second: in what way would I, the writer, think that an incomplete part of my story in which the reader does not yet know most of the main motivations (they are only hinted at so far) feels forced and not natural when I know what's happening, where it is going (and where I haven't had other readers comment with confusion about that part)

and moving on. don't do this. also like i said this is a wip in and no, no one is cool with Kalluto being a spider and no they're not cool working with Illumi, really. it was already established that some of them /have/ been working with Illumi before this~ he's someone that they know. like have you never been in a seriously dangerous situation that you just have to get through before you get back to what you want?*** also at this point Chrollo's real motive hasn't been entirely revealed.

Killua keeps changing his mind about what he's doing because he's a scared kid whose self-hatred is destroying him from the inside out. the POV is so tight that I have to keep dropping reminders that what is stated in the narrative is often not true! Illumi's POV, for example, keeps showing Killua as really loving him and being happy he's around but struggling with a desire for freedom, while with Killua's POV he's terrified of Illumi most of the time. like how is that not obviously a distorted POV where you can't trust the narrator?

"where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats"

this part is especially irritating because it's like yeah that's how I want to write it? this isn't a published novel. I don't have to commit to making sure every scene is important to the plot. I can spend time writing a full scene about someone drinking a glass of water and then 13 chapters in a row that are for moving the plot forward. I didn't even tag it as a novel... I did tag it for unreliable narration and I keep getting annoyed that people keep ignoring that.

"I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven?"

it's both??? it's neither??? it's a fanfic??? why do I keep getting comments lately where people are expecting me to adhere to like fucking publishing standards. this keeps up and I will write a chapter which is entirely about a minor character drinking a glass of water. watch me. I'll write one about phinks drinking a glass of water and you'll like it*

"Overall, the story is good and presented a compelling alternative to CA. Look, each fan has their own opinion on CA and I know I didn’t like it. I think it was a product of what Togashi was going through as he began to experience health issues and then finding himself right back where he said he wasn’t going to be mentally after he ended his earlier manga. We can never know for sure, but it certainly had a “watch it all burn vibe” to it near the end. I honestly believe he wanted it to end with the finality of Gon’s suicide as a capstone statement, but was probably convinced to go a different route, which kinda of left a jarring feel in the narrative and culminated in a rather unsatisfying end to Gon and Killua’s journey. Despite that, I am very reluctant to read fics where the events of CA are erased or grossly modified and honestly yours is really the first long AU/alternate timeline I’ve enjoyed"

okay first of all, I love the CA arc. but I had to split a point off where Kite was going to survive. why do you have to leave this whole paragraph about how you think Togashi was or wasn't going to go with the CA on my fanfic? I didn't even write this as 'oh look at my alternative to CA bc I hated CA' I don't really look forward to hearing comments about how random people didn't like so and so aspect of the story that I'm basing my story off of. I've never written fanfic for a story that I didn't like (except for some things that I don't have published I wrote at a request for friends for a fandom they were into that I wasn't really) and yeah I've wanted to 'fix' aspects (like tolkien's treatment of women for example) but I am not looking for your 'this is what I hated about the source material' comments on my stories

tired of getting comments with little 'oh I didn't like your style at first but now I do' or 'here's how to fix your story!' unsolicited advice from people who aren't better writers than me (I don't even want it from people who would be better writers than me on stuff I'm just doing for fun and for free)

when did stuff like this become normal? at least don't be a coward and be not logged in so you can't even get a response notification. like girl they aren't cool with it! why do you think everyone is on guard standing around like they're in a fucking hostage situation? how do you see such wildly different interpretations from different character's POVs and think it's not intentional? what part about Kite watching Killua like a fucking hawk makes you think he's going to let Illumi take him after this?

like if you've never had to smile and pretend to be cool with your abuser (pretend to love them) or someone who was threatening you to keep someone else safe then good for you! it fucking sucks! also don't know how to explain to you what a child who is growing up in an extremely isolated abusive situation goes through (though I keep writing about it in this story you should catch on...) but it's a million back and forths with emotion and feelings--especially if their abuser does (to in some way or to some degree) love them. and it is often blaming themselves. I'm not letting my years of studying human psychology and child development go to waste here**

is this story perfect? no but I'm not gonna hire an editor for a fanfic. and everyone's interpretations of characters will be different. especially with child characters who are going through huge changes in the world around them and their personal lives. part of the appeal of fanfiction is 'who would they become if this happened instead?' *sorry I keep writing about starving and not having clean drinking water but I will never stop because that's what I grew up with and it's hell. also phinks drinking water would be compelling since I assume he'd have harder access to clean drinking water

**hunter x hunter is also one of the only stories I have encountered with characters who have backgrounds as fucked up as mine and Togashi's interest in human psychology really stands out.

***like good for you but that was most of my life and you sometimes just have to shut up and get through it. and no I will not put my notes in the right order bc I'm not being paid enough****

****I'm being paid nothing

[an-ruraiocht]

90% of the time when i see reviews and posts saying "this book needed editing" i don't think the reader have any idea what editing actually entails. usually this is actually code for one of several "problems" with the book:

it's too long, or it's slower paced than this reader's preference. they believe "editing" would mean making it shorter

it has a heavily descriptive style, which the reader doesn't like. they believe "editing" means paring every sentence down to hemingway-style prose with no adverbs

it doesn't follow the very rigid "save the cat" style 3-act story structure, disrupting the reader's sense of narrative tension. an editor, they believe, would've made sure it did

there were a few typos or formatting errors, and they believe it's the editor's job to catch these (it's not, it's typically the proofreader and the typesetter who have responsibility for that kind of thing)

and finally, most often:

the author had different narrative priorities than the reader, who thinks an editor would have made the author change their priorities.

the thing is, there are actually issues with editors in trad publishing being overworked to the point where things aren't getting the thorough, thoughtful editing that they need to be the best version of themselves. there are plenty of badly-structured, poorly-researched, and clumsily written books out there. moreover copyediting is typically freelance and perhaps because of that, this is the area where i see the largest number of issues: continuity issues, grammar issues, factual errors etc that someone should've spotted and didn't.

but this is not typically what people's "this needed an editor" reviews are focusing on. most often it just means they didn't like the book and they've decided editing is an all-powerful force that would have transformed it into a book they liked. but that's not how it works. and disproportionately what this comment means is that the book doesn't match what current fashions have decided is The Correct Style to write in

"this book needed an editor" if it's traditionally published, it had one. like. by definition. it was an editor who bought the book. that doesn't mean the editor did a great job but they definitely existed. there were probably at least two (acquiring editor who does the dev edits; copyeditor who does copyedits), and the proofreader, and a bunch of other people besides.

also i think people think editors are the ones who like. implement the changes. but they don't. they give comments and recommendations and ask questions and the author is the one to act on them. the editor will not rewrite the book. they will not fix the problems themselves, they will highlight the problem and the author will figure out a fix for it, or they will decide they don't agree that it's a problem and leave it as it. and a lot of the sentence-level style stuff is entirely on the author so if they don't have an ear for the rhythm then nobody's going to fix that for them. editors do a lot less than people seem to imagine they do, tbh

anyway

for reference—

structural/developmental edits: is this chapter in the right place and does the plot make sense and is the characterisation consistent and effective

line edits: is this sentence in the right place and is it as stylish as it could be

copy edits: is this sentence grammatically correct and consistent/factually correct within the story/its world and do the spellings follow the publisher's stylesheet

proofreading: are there any typos in this sentence and was the formatting preserved correctly when it was typeset

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (Drabble)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader

Summary: Theo has only felt pain ever since y/n was kidnapped by Death Eaters, but her return might even be just as painful.

Word count: 811

Warnings: slight mentions of torture; angst; English is not my first language

A/N: I will post the second part on Friday, let me know if you want to be tagged! This is my first time writing for Theo and it's rushed, so I hope it's still alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan

Ignoring the people around him and their confused looks, Theo ran through the corridors, with only four words in his mind - we found miss y/n.  

He had spent three months, three months waiting for her to come back, for her to give him any sign, for her to come back to him, for his whole body and mind to function normally again. It had been three months since y/n had disappeared, captured by Death Eaters one week before winter break. The image of her, defenseless and screaming as she was being tortured had been plaguing Theo ever since, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else other than he didn't know where y/n was, if she was even alive or not, and what kind of atrocities she was facing. He had completely stopped going to class, stopped going to the Great Hall for meals - despite how many times his friends had asked him to come, saying y/n wouldn’t want him to be like that -, staying in his dorm instead, where even despite the constant closed shutters, he couldn’t even sleep, as he had terrible nightmares of y/n screaming for him as she was being tortured every time he tried to sleep. 

He had tried to look for her, of course. How could he not? But old Dumbledore had anticipated it, and had ordonned him to not leave the castle without a teacher. The first few weeks, Theo had been going almost every day to Dumbledore’s office, asking if there was new information about where y/n was, and he always got the same answer. I’m sorry to tell you that we do not. But trust, Mr Nott, that we are actively looking for her and that I am sure that we will find her. At the beginning, Theo had somehow managed to control his anger and frustration, but at one point, he had screamed at the headmaster, saying that it wasn’t enough, that no one could understand what it was like, and even had broken a few items. 

But, today, Professor Snape had knocked on his door, saying the four words Theo had been dreaming to hear. And now here he was, running to the hospital wing. He only slowed down when he arrived by its door, and, still breathless from the running, immediately opened the door, and then rushed inside to the only bed that was currently occupied. 

“y/n!”

“Mr. Nott, please don’t-”

But Theo ignored Mrs Pomfrey’s words and walked past her, instead going to sit on the bed and hugging y/n’s body as hard as he could. Mrs Pomfrey continued to protest and ask him to stop, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was here, in his arms. He gently stroked her hair, feeling his eyes burn with tears. All the pain, stress, fear and anger that he had felt from the moment he learned that she had disappeared faded away, replaced with her warmth presence and the feeling that fucking finally, she was safe, safe in his arms like she was supposed to be. 

“Cazzo, y/n, baby. I missed you so much.” 

You’re here. You’re here. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. 

He slightly detached himself from her but only to kiss her forehead and look at her, look at the face and eyes he had fallen so hard in love with. But instead of looking at him with warm eyes full of love like she always did, there was only confusion - which was also shown in her frowning - and that was the moment he realized she didn’t hug him back, or even touched him at all. 

“Um, I…I’m sorry, but…who are you?” 

If Theo thought he had known pain every second of y/n’s absence, that was nothing compared to the heartbreak her words caused throughout his whole body and mind. He was now also confused, and his arms dropped from her by themselves. 

“y/n…It’s me…Teddy.”

Your Teddy. 

“You…” He had never struggled to find his words so much before. “You don’t recognize me?”

y/n opened her mouth to answer, apparently embarrassed and turned to the matron for help. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nott, but Miss y/l/n lost all her memories. Professor Dumbledore and I are still trying to figure out why, and how to bring her memory back,” she said with a kind voice, before turning to y/n and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Miss y/l/n, this is Theodore Nott, your boyfriend.” 

No! Not Theodore, not Theo, fucking damn it. It’s Teddy for her. For her and nobody else. Teddy. 

Her Teddy.

y/n nodded and looked at Theo.

“I’m sorry for not remembering you. I can’t remember anything, really.”

Theo rose from the bed. 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Not wanting for an answer, he turned around and left the hospital’s wing, feeling more broken than when he entered it.

PART 2

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[elumish]

I think one of the most important unspoken skills of being a writer is knowing how to take critique and criticism of your work.

This is not about comments once work is published--this is about how to actually deal with and adjudicate feedback from beta readers, sensitivitiy readers, editors, etc. Because at some point, if you plan to go through any sort of publishing process, you will need to deal with feedback.

Especially for content/structure comments (as opposed to grammar/typos/etc.), most people have an instinct to get defensive. It's normal! I get it! I also get defensive. These stories are usually the product of many hours worth of work, of time and energy and emotion dedication. Having someone tell us there's a problem can feel like they're telling us that we did something wrong.

So first, recognize the defensiveness. You're allowed to start with defensiveness (if you're not a jerk about it). But recognize that you're being defensive, let yourself sit with it as long as you need to, and then figure out how to move past it.

The next step is to make sure you understand the feedback. Sometimes feedback can be confusing or unclear (the people giving feedback are human too) or it can be talking about a problem that doesn't really exist. You want to make sure that you know what they're actually saying and how it fits in the story.

Along with understanding the feedback, recognize when feedback represents a fundamental misunderstanding of your story. Sometimes people misread your story or aren't careful or just have a vastly different interpretation of your story than the words on the page, and they will give feedback that reflects that. You are allowed to say, basically, "this isn't actually commenting on my story but the reader's interpretation of my story" and move on. But sometimes a fundamental misunderstanding means that your story is confusing or unclear, and it may signal that you need to make changes, even if they aren't the changes the commener suggested.

When you're working your way through feedback, trust identifications of problems more than you trust recommended solutions. This is not to say that you should never follow people's recommendations (and what recommendations you follow may/should depend on who they are), but it is your story, and ultimately you know it better than they do. If someone gives the comment that the pacing doesn't work in x section and that you should think about adding y scene, you may realize that what would actually solve the problem better for the story is updating an earlier or later section instead.

Trust your understanding of your story but allow it to evolve. You know your story best and shouldn't change it just because someone had an idea--but you should also be flexible about your story and not stick to your original story just because it was the first idea you had.

Finally, learn how to be okay with having been wrong. Sometimes your idea wasn't the best. Sometimes what you wrote didn't work. Sometimes it was racist or sexist or homophobic or transphobic or ableist. Sometimes it was confusing or unclear. Sometimes it was a stupid idea. And when commenters tell you that, the only way to fix it is to learn how to look at something you love and say, yeah, okay, this was bad and needs to be fixed.

And as a postscript to it all--remember that critical feedback isn't a reflection on you or your writing. Every author in existence has gotten critical feedback at some point (or, if they haven't, it's because they have a terrible editor). Nobody is perfect on their first true, and nobody is perfect in a vacuum. Critical feedback is one of the ways that you and your stories get better.

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hi hi! It's been kind of a long week for me lmao but here's the next part! You'll def wanna stick around to the very end of the post; there's a very fun surprise for y'all lol

Also! If you like my writing or want to see a quicker update of this or another series, I've opened commissions (student loans are hitting a lot harder than I expected orz). If you're interested, you can find more information in this post

Even if you don't commission me, I appreciate your likes/comments/reblogs of my work! They keep me going and make me really happy ^_^

Anyway, now for the good stuff. As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

----

Sinking a ship takes skill, intense planning, and strong tails. Or, if you're Robin and seven guppies, it takes incredible, unbridled rage and a worry that could kill a Kraken. A ship that should take half the day to sink only takes the group two hours, their tails bashing against the hull and claws ripping planks to let seawater surge inside. Dustin is particularly brutal, recruiting Lucas and Mike to help him use the same net that caught him and took Steve to drag the ship beneath the waves.

Between tending to Dustin's wounds, lying to the pod about why they're going to be away for a while, and actually tracking the damned thing, it took Robin and the guppies a few days to catch up to the ship. And as they scavenge the drowned wreckage, pushing past broken doors and through holes in the hull, it becomes increasingly clear that they're too late.

"Where could he be?!" Dustin shouts, his gills flaring and bubbles rising in an enraged pattern above him. He takes a spear and jabs it into a water-bloated plank. "If he's not here, that means he escaped, right? So why hasn't he found us yet?"

"Steve could have been taken by another ship," El points out, her head poking from behind a mast. She's gained a dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and is currently using her nails to dig the jewels out and drop them into a seaweed bag.

Robin frowns, swimmingly anxiously in circles. She's not the one that's good with guppies. That's Steve. If she's the fun caretaker that encourages them to play Scuttlefish with sharks, Steve is the one a tail's-length behind dragging them back to the pod before they can get hurt. He's the one who knows how to keep the guppies calm and healthy. Robin is the one who keeps them energetic and chaotic.

"He was definitely here," Will says, swimming out from a cabin on the ship. He stops in front of Robin and holds his hands out, letting her see the dull, blood-stained scales sitting in his palms.

With a shaking hand, Robin takes the scales and turns them over, hoping they're somehow not Steve's. But he's her partner. Robin could recognize him by the flick of his tail alone. So, of course, she knows they're Steve's scales at a glance.

She turns, her tail creating a small current that brushes over the guppies and forces them to look at her. "If he's not on this one," she says, "then we'll just keep sinking ships until we find him."

"Let's start with the other ship," Erica says.

"The other ship?" Robin asks.

Erica nods, pointing in the direction they'd just come from. "A few leagues before we found this one, I saw another one that was sailing in the other direction. Maybe they crossed paths."

For a brief moment, Robin wonders how she missed the other ship. But then she remembers how she's been caught between her own worries and keeping the guppies from spiraling, and she gives herself a break. "Yeah," she says, nodding as she closes her fingers over the scales. The edges cut into her palms but don't draw blood. "Let's go track down that ship. But don't keep something like that from me next time."

The guppies all nod in agreement, and Robin looks at the wreckage around them. She's half-tempted to let the guppies loot the rest of the ship, but she knows they're all aching to find Steve already. So, Robin herds them away from the sunken ship in the direction Erica pointed and hopes Steve can hold on for just a little longer.

----

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

Song Types

There are several song types that merfolk are likely to use in their lifetime. While the human ear cannot distinguish the intricacies of the songs, it can tell the major categories apart.

As newly-born guppies, they know only how to vocalize wordless sounds based on their needs. These sounds are referred to as Guppy Songs. These songs are generally lacking in any real melody or rhythm. They are rough and unskilled, but many caretakers consider them precious.

Pod songs are shared tunes and melodies among the pod to communicate big news. When hearing a pod song from a lone merperson, it will sound incomplete. Pod songs usually require at least one other merperson to support or respond to the initial measures, which creates a complete and satisfying loop.

Individual songs are varied and unique, as the name suggests. They cover a range of emotions that simply can't be communicated through regular speech or bubble patterns (to learn more about bubble patterns, please see Part I: The Basics). Among these songs, the most important to know is the courting song, which can actually be multiple songs using the same opening measures and melodies with slightly different tones.

Now that you know the most basic kind of songs, we can move to harmonizing. Truthfully, a human's ability to harmonize with a merperson is nearly impossible. However, it can be done with an instrument, which can reach ranges the human voice cannot. So, if you don't know how to play one, I'd suggest learning. Harmonizing is a key step in the courtship process, after all.

----

Steve shrieks as Eddie spins him around, the sound high and grating, and clings tighter to Eddie's neck. His tailfin slaps Eddie behind his knee, hard enough to make him falter and slip on the rain-soaked deck. He falls on his ass, Steve safely in his lap, and laughs. The charms in his hair knock against each other, and Steve idly reaches up to brush his finger against one. "What was that for?" Eddie asks, the words slightly breathless.

"You surprised me," Steve says, frowning slightly as raindrops catch in his eyelashes and make them heavy. He holds a hand above his eyes and then does the same for Eddie.

"You just looked so pretty, sweetheart," Eddie says, grinning at Steve like he knows what bubble pattern his fluttering gills would create (flustered and flattered).

He rolls his eyes, looking at the sky and sea in the distance. The ocean is surging, and waves and sea foam collide as the wind picks up force. Dark clouds hang over the sea, and Steve would be concerned if he didn't know the storm would clear up soon. He can tell from the sound of the ocean and the taste in the air: the water isn't angry enough and there isn't enough salt on his lips.

The rain is still going to turn brutal, though, and Steve would prefer they weren't on deck when it happens. He overheard Asher and Jeff talking about the last time Eddie got soaked to the bone and got sick. He's not sure what a "cold" is, but he doesn't want Eddie catching it again.

"Let's go back to the cabin," he says, looking back at Eddie with a light smile. "I want to hear you play that, uh, gee-tare."

"Guitar, Stevie," Eddie corrects, holding Steve tight as he stands. He has an excited smile, something expectant in his eyes that Steve still hasn't figured out.

Steve hums, knowing very well how it's pronounced, but he likes to see the somewhat dopey smile Eddie gets whenever he mispronounces something. He gets the feeling Eddie also knows he's doing it on purpose, but he's not said anything yet.

Eddie carries him down to the captain's cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. "Where do you want to be, sweetheart?" he asks.

After a moment's consideration, Steve gestures to the bed, looking forward to the soft pillows and even softer sheets. When Eddie places him down, he wiggles until his tail is curled comfortably, soaking the sheets beneath him, and looks at Eddie expectantly.

"Any requests?" Eddie asks, clearly amused as he grabs his guitar and hops onto the bed next to Steve. His knee brushes against Steve's tail, drawing Steve's attention briefly to the faint scar that lingers across his scales.

He's been healed for almost a day now, and Steve should probably start bracing himself to say goodbye, but he'd like to remain in denial a little longer. He doesn't want to leave. Even if he knows he'll come right back with Robin and the guppies, Steve doesn't want to be away from Eddie that long. They haven't even confirmed their courtship. Leaving before they do means any merperson with half a brain could see how much of a pearl Eddie is and try to steal him away.

Steve forces the thought away, forces himself to focus on answering Eddie's question, and shakes his head. "Just play something," he says.

Eddie nods and thinks a moment as he tunes the guitar. "Could you hum something?" he asks.

When he looks up at Steve again, there's something oddly intense in his gaze. He looks determined, as though something very important is riding on this moment. Steve isn't sure what it is, exactly, but he knows he doesn't want it to pass him by. Steve nods and starts humming a soft and familiar tune, one he's used a lot more after meeting Eddie.

It must be the right choice, because Eddie practically lights up, a grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listens. After a few seconds, he starts plucking strings on the guitar, adding a gentle accompaniment that makes Steve's humming rock back and forth like the ocean currents.

Usually, Eddie plays fast, his music filling Steve with the same heat and energy as an underwater volcano in the middle of an eruption. But this is slow and sweet like the honey Steve tried a few days ago. It creeps through him, his gills fluttering with each note that Eddie pulls from his guitar. He feels soft and happy, his voice shifting to follow Eddie's lead as inspiration hits him.

They trade the lead back and forth between them, and Steve starts to actually sing at some point. He doesn't know when he opened his mouth and started to vocalize the notes instead of just humming them, a sweet melody forming as his voice resonates with the guitar. It just happens as naturally as swimming. Steve can no longer tell where his voice ends and the guitar begins. They've fallen into sync, strumming and singing together without missing a beat.

Steve leans closer, his heart pounding against his ribs even faster than usual. They're harmonizing. He realizes it suddenly, but it doesn't catch him off-guard. It's just a whisper in the back of his mind, a little nudge that makes him smile and move without thinking beyond the desire to be closer.

The song doesn't end naturally. In fact, Eddie is in the middle of a particularly lovely string of notes when Steve kisses him, still humming low in his throat. Eddie's fingers fumble, a sour note pulling from the guitar, but Steve doesn't care. He's too busy wrapping one hand around the back of Eddie's neck and placing the other on Eddie's chest.

He can feel Eddie's heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and Steve presses closer. He's barely balancing on his tail as Eddie moves the guitar from his lap, pushing it to the side of the bed while he kisses Steve back. Eddie pushes his hand into Steve's hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

Steve's humming happily rises in pitch, and he finally loses his balance, his weight pressing entirely on Eddie and causing him to fall back on the bed. The kiss breaks when Eddie bounces slightly, their foreheads knocking together, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, his free hand trailing to Steve's waist and settling on his back. His fingers brush against the line where scales meet skin, and Steve shudders, his mouth going dry, and he kisses Eddie again before he can say another word.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

[angelicsjn]

I was the one that submitted the form and it had Hayden as my favourite with the passing comment that I made mad money just so he can have his career.

I know in the Domestic Life ask, he fears settling down due to the fact that he'd need to give up his photography for something more stable. But ha! Sike! His darling makes 6+ figures and is willing to support him fully. The cutie is gonna get the house husband treatment but hey, he gets to pursue photography with a big safety net. If anything, his photography profits is their play money for vacations and getting pampered together.

So, how would Hayden react to that? Would he enjoy it and settle down sooner?

- ✨ Anon

HAYDEN WEST.

A N: I love this so much. When I read your answer, something lit up inside of me. This is so real. Honestly, the dynamic sort of reminds me of Levi and William on tiktok. Their relationship are my actual goals... ps. If you see any typos and mistakes, no, you didn't. Look away, it never existed.

A B O U T: Hayden is apprehensive about settling down, but you have funds to do so. How does he feel about it? Read to find out.

W A R N I N G S: None. Other than Hayden being a sweetheart.

As stated in an old post, Hayden's only setback in settling down is his career path, and he knows that it's not sustainable in the long run.

Hayden isn't the type to sacrifice his passions to make life comfortable; his passions are his life. He would be nothing without them.

But he knows that at some point he will have to decide on what path he will take because he doesn't only have to pay for himself now, he also has you in his life.

But! Maybe there's another solution...?

Hayden's obsession with you grew in a short space of time, he went from watching you; hoping that you'd look his way one day to sleeping in your bed feeling more loved than he has ever been loved before. He takes care of you, you take care of him and even though you don't know about all the things he's done behind the scenes, you know how deeply he loves you. He just has a way of knowing you, understanding you like no other.

One thing that he never found out was how much money you had in your bank. Really, Hayden doesn't care much for that kind of thing. Whilst stalking you, he never pressed much attention into what jobs you did, where your money came from and how much you had; money is just a thing to survive to him. He wanted to know the silly and deep things about you.

He never questioned it either due to the fact that you live humbly — sure, more well off than him, but that wouldn't be hard, Hayden didn't grow up in the best of areas. To him a home cooked meal each day is a privilege and reward, so he knew you were rich in sense of. But not in the way you actually are.

When the conversation of moving in together comes up he sort of freezes. He didn't see how you'd both survive. Besides his general insecurities of you growing out of love for him — he saw how his parents were growing up — he was also shitting bricks over how to get a place and keep it without sacrificing everything and living unhappily.

A huge part of him felt that insecurity riddle it's way into his system over the fact that he, a man, can't provide. That's his job... right? How can he be considered a good man. A good boyfriend. If he can't even look after you?

But you were adamant. You knew he was the one, you've never felt so seen by someone before. He understands you, respects you, loves you for who you are. And that's when the conversation comes up...

"We can do this, Hayden." You said, watching him as his eyes scan across the screen. He was gobsmacked. How the fuck did he miss this? After all that time watching you he missed out the fact that you're loaded, maybe you landed the job yourself. Maybe it's a family thing. Who knows. He didn't know if he was meant to be impressed with you. Or pissed off that you didn't tell him. Or pissed off with himself for missing out such a big detail in your life. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just wanted to be seen for more than what I can offer." You finished, and he understood — not from personal experience. But he got it.

"I know." He mumbled, pushing the laptop away. "I understand, it's okay. I'd have done the same." Hayden meant it, you could tell as he flashed his usual lopsidedely shy smile, his eyes soft and warm. He took your hand and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. "But I want to help out."

You knew how he felt, it was clear as he looked away. He felt small. It wasn't a secret that you lead the relationship, it was natural. The pants fit you better and you both prefer it that way. But you understood how he felt in that moment, what can he give back when he doesn't have much to give.

"Focus on your studies. Continue with your photography and make a business out of it." You said, squeezing his hand in yours. "If you want, you can help out around the house, keep your part time job, I don't know. Anything. It's fine."

Hayden needed some time to think about it, let it roll around in his head until he finally made his decision...

Ultimately, you both knew what would work best. So you tested it out.

Pushing aside his initial insecurities, he realised that the dynamic between you both worked perfectly and if anything you had both never been closer.

Half a year later you're both happy and thriving. The house is beautiful and Hayden even has the space for his own room thats dedicated to his interests and photography, with the saved up money he's gained, thanks to you for being the main provider, he was able to set his business up more professionally and buy better equipment! He's able to turn his dream into a job and he's so grateful and happy for that.

The two of you live happily in your own bubble, Hayden being the homebody that he is, he thrives in his peace and space, even better when you're home with him. He's picked up on new hobbies in the meanwhile, mainly things to make the house a home.

From DIY to crochet, he's making things for the house left right and center and the place feels so cosy and happy.

"I noticed the new pillow covers." You said, something he obviously made, and it looks cute. "Thanks. I'm doing a selection for the different seasons." He shrugged, eating the meal he cooked for you both not long ago.

He cooked you your favourite meal, something he's always cooked for you. You enjoyed it, especially after a hard day at work.

Later that night you would watch movies together in the comfort of your living room, cuddling and eating snacks before accidentally falling asleep.

At first he was hesitant, he didn't want to feel like he wasn't giving you anything back. But in reality he had given you so much more than the both of you realised. Due to you being so busy making the money, he made the house a home and gave you a reason to love going back home to feel loved and secure.

[katerina-marie]

The Uncertainty of Domesticity

Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 of 3

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much, though he definitely felt so when he became a widower in the same moment he became a father. Years later, he felt it again when you came along with the same hopes and dreams for a future he never thought he would experience again.

Content: JJK universe but no canon events / strangers & neighbors to lovers / medium burn idk / female reader and referred to as such but left descriptively vague / no y/n / out of character and soft Toji / single-father Toji / A little NSFW - brief mention/implication of vaginal sex so please avoid accordingly - but I can't write smut to save my life so it's not very explicit / Megumi-Mama/Mamaguro dies in childbirth and its mentioned once or twice / cutie pie child Megumi / fluff / slice of life / light angst from Toji's inner turmoil / discussions about having children / pregnancy and childbirth for reader / more notes below

WC: 9.2k (*nervous laughter*)

Notes:

Y'all....this thing is 9.2k words. It probably should've been split into another part, but I didn't and I'm just leaving it be. I'm sorry if it feels a bit "choppy?" I could've happily kept writing about all the little moments in between the parts shown, but I'm not sure if it ever would've ended at that point.

Also, I'm posting this at nearly 2:00 am my time because my end of week/upcoming weekend just got very busy and it's now or never, so please forgive any typos. I reread this chapter until I went crosseyed.

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Toji Fushiguro liked to consider himself capable of many things. 

He, as a single father, had raised his son from infancy into a fine six and a half year old.

He was a teacher, no matter how unwilling, and had successfully kept all his students alive thus far.

He was your partner, doting and caring of your every whim and utterly wrapped around your finger. 

So, when he and Megumi woke up from a late afternoon nap in the middle of the summer only to step into a puddle of water in front of their kitchen sink, Toji was adamant he was capable of repairing the situation, regardless of his lack of experience in such an area. He mopped up the water, gathered tools, and squeezed himself under the sink the best he could considering his size. At some point, Megumi must have run across the street to fetch you because your legs appeared in his limited field of vision followed by your smug grin as you bent down to check on him. 

Your eyes glittered in a way that was betelling of your mischievousness, and Toji grimaced. “Having fun?”

“Just hand me a wrench from the counter, please.” 

You did as Toji asked without comment, and began to fill the silence (and test Toji’s concentration) with chatter about plans for the weekend in between his intermittent string of curses when something went amiss. As an hour went by with little progress to show for it, you made yourself comfortable on the floor next to Toji’s feet while Megumi had since found something outside to occupy himself with. When you felt water begin to tickle your toes, you reached out your foot to nudge it against Toji’s calf. 

“I mean this in the kindest, least offensive way,” you told him, “but don’t you think it’s about time we call a plumber?” Somewhere under the sink, metal clanged and Toji barked out an expletive followed by a groan of pain. 

“No,” he insisted grouchily, and you watched as he used his legs to wedge himself further under the sink. “I think I almost got it.” 

Your answering hum was full of disbelief, but Toji paid it no mind, even if he could start to feel the coolness of water seeping into the cuff of his pants. If only he could reach one more inch…

His concentration was interrupted when Megumi’s scream of pain filtered in through the open windows. Toji lurched upwards out of sheer instinct and hit his head hard enough against the metal piping that he saw stars. Through the haze of pain and spots across his vision, he saw you dash out the door, and primal parental instinct forced Toji out of the cramped space so he could tend to his child’s cries. When he finally managed to stagger out the front door, you were on your knees on the concrete cradling a sobbing Megumi to your chest. His bike lay on its side just a step away, and from how his son’s left arm was sitting limply over his lap and already changing colors, Toji suspected a hospital trip was in order for what was clearly a broken bone. He approached and you looked up at him with eyes that were glassy with your own tears, your heart breaking for how badly the little boy was in pain. Toji brushed a quick hand over your cheek before crouching down to meet Megumi’s eyes. 

“Alright, Megs,” he coaxed, and the sight of his son’s face clenched in distress and wet with tears was a sight Toji would never get over, “we’ll get you up and to the doctor to start feeling better, okay?” Megumi didn’t react to his words, but when Toji reached out to scoop him into his arms, he wailed harder and tightened the good arm he had wrapped around your neck, burying his face deeper into your chest. Surprise fluttered over your face and then it turned apologetic towards Toji, but he shook his head, the shock of his son’s preference for you in this moment not nearly as important. Instead, Toji carefully helped you up while you held onto Megumi and led the two of you to the car with a protective arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

The evening at the hospital passed in a similar manner. You reclined in a bed with Megumi against your chest while a doctor looked at his arm and Toji filled out paperwork. You murmured in the boy’s ear and brushed his hair back in soothing movements to try and distract him from the pain. When a nurse came in with an IV kit in hand, you let Megumi cry into your neck while Toji helped hold his right arm still. Eventually, after he drifted off to sleep, you took a seat next to Toji on the right side of Megumi’s bed while the doctor set his arm and fixed a cast onto it. The entire time, the worried father remained ramrod straight with eyes fixed on every move the doctor made, and he had your hand clenched between the two of his on his lap. You leaned to the side to rest your head against his shoulder, and adoration tightened your chest when Toji let out an anxious huff before turning his head to press his lips to your forehead.

When the whole thing was said and done and the three of you were discharged once Megumi was awake enough, you rubbed a comforting hand over Toji’s back as he carried his son to the car. Once home, the two of you worked to get Megumi changed and ready for bed, a delicate task when having to take caution with the state of his arm. Thankfully, the edge was taken off by painkillers, and he dazedly chatted about the cool blue cast on his arm and how he couldn’t wait to show it off to Yuji. Toji promised to get him markers for him to draw on it with while you persuaded him to get under the blankets after assuring him you’d bake a giant batch of cookies tomorrow in reward for his bravery. 

Toji took the time to place Megumi’s favorite stuffed animals around him and tucked him further into the blankets. You read him a bedtime story while Toji lay stretched out next to the two of you, and by the end of it, Megumi’s eyes were drooping heavily and his mouth had fallen open just the slightest. You gently lifted Megumi’s broken arm up so that Toji could settle a pillow under it, and after bidding the boy goodnight, he got up so you could slide in next to him. He watched with a thudding heart as you scanned his son up and down with fretful eyes and let your hands flutter nervously about him. You pushed some of the hair away from Megumi’s forehead and leaned down carefully to place a gentle kiss between his brows. When you looked back at Toji with a sad, wobbly smile on your lips but a determined gleam in your eyes in order to be brave for the little boy in front of you, Toji realized in that moment that he had fallen in love with you, and in the same breath decided that he was going to marry you, nearly a year to the day he met you in the middle of a grocery store. 

And later, when the two of you lay exhausted under the blankets of his bed, Toji rolled over onto his side to mold every inch of himself against your back and nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder so his lips could brush against your ear. 

“Marry me,” he whispered, not so much asking as he was pleading. You were already half asleep, but he felt the shake of your shoulders as quiet laughter blew out from your nose, and you threaded your fingers up through his from where they were draped over your hip. 

“Of course,” you breathed, and Toji tightened his arms around you. He left a kiss on the back of your neck and let his eyes slide shut as he basked in the warmth of your body and smell of your lotion and the incandescent joy in realizing that he’d never have to go another night without it—without you. 

“But ask me again later so I can see you properly down on one knee.” 

A week later, because Toji Fushiguro was powerless to anything you demanded of him, he did as you asked in the middle of his kitchen while you, him, and Megumi still lounged in your pajamas and were only halfway done making breakfast. His son clapped excitedly when you squealed out a ‘yes’ and Toji grinned with pride as you admired the simple gold band that adorned your finger. Satisfaction made his heart full and your smile soothed his soul, but eagerness had him marrying you in a government building just a couple days later.

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It wasn’t until Megumi’s seventh birthday that Toji realized stalling wasn’t going to work much longer. 

The months following your marriage had been busy with moving him and Megumi into your house across the street since it was bigger and didn’t hold the memories of a tragic past Toji was ready to move on from. The end of the summer had brought school for him and Megumi back into full swing, and two weeks into it Toji was ready to quit when all his students could focus on was the new ring on his left hand. Most of them were congratulatory in their teasing, but a few made jests about their disbelief that someone could bother marrying their grouch of a teacher, and while Toji had half a mind to bring you by just to shut them up, he decided it was kinder to not subject you to a particular white-haired menace. 

By the time the three of you got settled into the normalcy of being a new family, the year was already coming to a close and Megumi was turning seven. As requested, you had baked his son a double chocolate cake and covered the top in rainbow sprinkles. Toji had taken the time to pipe little swirls of frosting around the edges, though some were lopsided and varied in size (such small, precise tasks were simply too big of an ask for the size of his hands), but Megumi didn’t seem to care when the two of you placed it in front of him on the table, candles lit orange and reflecting off the wideness of his eyes. 

After singing and clapping, right as Megumi filled his cheeks with as much air as he could manage to blow his candles out in a single breath, you threw your hands out over them in an attempt to keep them aflame for just a moment longer.

“Wait, Megumi,” you gasped, yanking your hands back when the heat of the candles scorched a bit too close to your skin. Toji immediately gathered them into his to inspect your palms, but you shook them away, not minding his grumble as the brief sting faded. “You have to make a wish!” 

Megumi’s mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as he nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah,” he chirped. “I forgot.” 

He immediately squeezed his eyes closed, and you and Toji watched in amusement as he scrunched up his nose and squirmed in his seat. You took the opportunity to snap a couple of pictures, and when he was done, Megumi’s eyes popped back open and he took in a great inhale before blowing out his candles all at once. You cheered while Toji ruffled his son’s hair, and Megumi looked quite proud of himself as you slid the cake towards you to cut him a piece worthy of being eaten on his birthday. Both of you chastised Toji when he kept insisting you make his piece bigger and bigger, almost so that he nearly had half the cake on his plate alone by the time it was all said and done. 

“Hey, Kid,” Toji said around a mouthful of cake while you pointedly took a polite bite of your own, “what did you wish for?” Megumi begrudgingly tore his attention from his cake, and you swatted at Toji’s arm from across the table. 

“You’re not supposed to ask!” you exclaimed, but he simply rolled his eyes and shook his head good naturedly before returning his focus back onto his plate. At the head of the table, Megumi stared at you with an all too knowing look for a fresh six year old and then set his sights on his father with an unimpressed quirk to his brow. 

“I wished for a baby brother or sister.” 

Toji promptly choked on the large bite of cake he had shoved into his mouth moments prior to Megumi’s unexpected declaration, and your lips parted in shock. Meanwhile, Megumi eyed the two of you expectedly as Toji hacked and coughed. You jumped from your chair to grab him a glass of water, then set it down next to him while rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulder blades. 

“Now, Megumi,” you began, not so much stern but intentionally practical, and he looked up at you with wide, attentive eyes, “babies, uhm, take their time getting here…” you trailed off and turned your head to your husband with an alarmed look on your face, but Toji was still working on regaining his breath and chugging his water and could only offer a shrug of his shoulders while he pursed his lips in defeat. 

You sighed and faced Megumi again with a weary smile. “Babies take their time getting here and that’s after their parents decide to have one. Any baby brother or sister will have to spend nine whole months growing in my belly before they arrive, so you’ll have to try and be real patient for us, okay?”

Megumi’s face fell dejectedly, and if Toji looked hard enough, there was a hint of disappointment on your features too. He watched as you playfully pinched at the boy’s cheeks and tempted him back into a happy mood with the hint of birthday gifts waiting for him in the living room. The whole exchange had guilt weighing heavy on Toji’s shoulders, and he had the bitter realization that it was his own fear—the one that lied solely in the scant possibility that you could meet the same fate as the only other woman he had ever loved—that caused the frown on yours and Megumi’s faces. 

In spite of that fear, Toji had promised you something, and in the six months since the two of you had been married, you hadn’t chastised him or given him grief when he pulled out at the last moment to spend himself across your stomach or back. You didn’t question him when he had a hard time meeting your eyes as he tore open a foil packet to remove the condom from inside. He knew your trust in him far surpassed whatever insecurities he wrestled with, but it didn’t make him feel less like a failure every time. 

So later that night, when Toji found himself above you and nestled in the warmth between your legs, he leaned into the security of your arms and sought reassurance in the taste of your lips as he came to his own end after ensuring yours. You ran your fingers down his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear when the racing of his heart and trembling of his muscles could no longer be blamed on the energy he expended while pleasuring his wife.

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You suspected something was amiss a couple months later. Toji had brought home your favorite take-out for dinner, and while the first bite was as pleasant as usual, every one after tasted more and more like cardboard and settled uncomfortably in your stomach until your appetite was thoroughly gone. You questioned whether it was something more and that maybe your period wouldn’t appear in just a couple of days, but when Megumi began to complain of an upset stomach toward the end of the meal, you banished the thought out of your head. 

However, two days after while you were cooking that evening’s dinner, one whiff of the package of raw chicken you had just cut open had you violently gagging and running for the nearest bathroom while ignoring Megumi’s call of alarm when you passed him in the living room. Your knees hit tile as you retched into the bowl of the toilet, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed when you were finally able to lift your head. You trembled on your spot on the floor and felt more tired than you had been in weeks. Nausea made your head spin, and you wondered if you’d ever be able to look at chicken again the same way. Just the sheer thought of it had your mouth souring, and your repulsiveness for it went deep into your bones. 

When you finally caught your breath and were mostly confident you had emptied everything in your stomach, you pushed yourself off the floor and rinsed your mouth before exiting the bathroom. Megumi stood on the other side of the door with his lips turned down in concern and your phone in his hand. When he raised it up to you, Toji’s name was displayed at the top of an ongoing call. 

“Hey,” is all you said when you brought the phone to your ear. 

“Megumi called and said something was wrong with you. Are you okay?” Toji’s voice wasn’t panicked, but you sensed the worry in it, and you could imagine his face looked much like his son’s had moments ago. 

“I was making dinner a few minutes ago, and the smell of the raw chicken…” you had to trail off when just telling him what happened made you gag a little. You hadn’t yet stepped away from the doorway of the bathroom, but you weren’t in a hurry to have to go back in, so you took a few deep breaths until the feeling passed. Megumi hugged your leg as he gazed up at you in concern and you patted the top of his head in reassurance. 

“Ah,” Toji remarked.

“Yup.” 

Toji cleared his throat after a moment of quiet and then asked a question that sent nerves skittering down your spine. “Want me to pick up a test on the way home?” 

“Please.” 

Later that night, after Megumi was tucked in bed, the two of you waited anxiously as the timer on your phone counted down from three minutes. Two pregnancy tests lay face down on the counter. You nibbled on the skin of your cuticle while Toji bounced his knee from where he sat on the closed toilet lid. 

“I mean, it’s not as if we weren’t expecting this to happen,” you pointed out, shaking your hands in front of you in an attempt to dislodge the nervousness from your body, and Toji snorted. 

“Yeah, certainly not.” He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously, and the smirk that tugged at the scar on his lip made your cheeks flush hot, and you rolled your eyes at him. As the two of you continued to wait as the seconds on your phone seemed to crawl by, a thought popped into your head. 

“Is it as nerve-wracking the second time around? Or is it easier?” you asked him gently, and you saw Toji’s features soften as his eyes went nostalgic. He worked his mouth in contemplation—perhaps in recollection—and then shook his head. 

“No, it’s uh, just as shocking I’d say—at least for me.” He pushed off his knees and came to stand next to you. “I think it’ll be this way no matter how many times we do it.” The thought of one day doing this a second time had the breath rushing out of you, but you filed the image away for a future discussion. It wasn’t something you had the capacity to consider now, not while you were currently waiting to see if you were about to become a mother. 

The shrill noise from your phone that indicated the timer had run down made the two of you jump a foot in the air, and you looked to Toji with wide eyes. 

“Take that one?” you offered, pointing with a trembling finger to the test that would answer with words versus a combination of lines, and Toji was suddenly very grateful he grabbed two different kinds at the store. While he knew he could squint at a test and convince himself that an extra line may or may not be visible, he was almost a hundred percent positive he wouldn’t suddenly become illiterate and unable to distinguish between “pregnant” and “not pregnant.” 

He nodded, and at the same time, the two of you reached for each test on the counter and flipped them over close to your faces only for your jaws to drop simultaneously. You turned to each other, wide eyed and bewildered (as if you didn’t know what the two of you had been doing these last couple months) because “pregnant” and two dark lines could not be misunderstood. 

You brought your free hand up to your mouth to cover it as unabashed laughter poured from your lips, and Toji wrapped his arms around your shoulders to yank you into his chest. Joy spurred him into kissing you deeply, and the pure love and elation in your eyes when you pulled back was enough for Toji to feel the first stirrings of excitement at the prospect of having a child with you. 

It wasn’t until later in the night, in the dark of your shared bedroom with nothing but the evenness of your breathing to interrupt the noise in his head that Toji could admit to himself that the entirety of it terrified him.  

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“That’s a baby?” Megumi’s voice was full of skepticism, and he eyed the ultrasound photo with disgruntled disbelief as you pointed at the grey and white blob in a sea of black. 

“Yes, Megumi,” you giggled, smiling at Toji over the little boy’s shoulder as the three of you sat cuddled in your bed, “that’s your sibling. They are very small right now, but next time they’ll look bigger and more like a baby.” 

He wasn’t appeased by your answer, and he crossed his arms with a little huff of disappointment that had Toji struggling to muffle his laughter. The two of you had just returned from your first doctor’s appointment and had decided to break the news to Megumi now that you had a picture to confirm it, and while he had taken it well, he clearly was expecting more. 

“How long till it gets here?” he asked, glancing up at you, but Toji replied first.

“Doctor said January. You’re gonna have to be patient, Megs.” Toji grinned at his son, but Megumi looked even more unenthused than before and glowered at his father. 

“Why’d you have to take so long to have a baby?” he muttered, and the words wiped the smile clean off Toji’s face as you shook with laughter. With a pained look on his face, Toji simply shoved a pillow playfully over Megumi’s head and tickled him in the ribs to distract him from the question at hand. 

You used the opportunity to burrow under the blankets as your eyes began to grow heavy. Nausea, fatigue, and a general feeling of being unwell had plagued you from the moment the pregnancy test had turned positive, and you hoped an afternoon in bed and watching movies would offer a reprieve. You had just begun to drift off when you heard Megumi ask for Toji’s attention. 

“Dad, where do babies come from?” 

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“I don’t think there’s much in that book you have to worry about,” Toji told you on a night that found the two of you lounging in your room after Megumi went to sleep. He was lazily folding laundry from his perch at the foot of the bed. You were reclined back against the headboard with said book in your lap. One hand rested against the curve of your belly that had just started to protrude against the fabric of your clothes in the last week, and the other dog-eared every other page laden with information about pregnancy, childbirth, and newborns.

“Perhaps,” you said, setting the book down on your thighs, and the pointed look you gave him made it clear you didn’t feel the same, “but that’s easy for you to say—you’ve done this before.” 

A harsh laugh fell from Toji’s mouth before he had a chance to stop it, and he tossed a bundle of socks in his hand at the tower he had made of his folded boxers. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing a very good job of it. We were barely surviving.” 

He watched as the pile of fabric warbled upon impact, and just as it began to tilt, you shot your foot out to brace it in place. When Toji looked up at you, frustration didn’t furrow your brow or pinch your nose. Instead, your smile was gentle and understanding.

“I know,” you said, voice soft, and it carried an undercurrent of reassurance. 

Toji released a deep breath and tilted up the scarred corner of his mouth in a way that he hoped looked contrite. He reached for the stack of his boxers and righted them so you could lower your leg back down. “I’m probably not the best person to get advice from anyway.” 

You tilted your head to the right, perplexed by his unusual self-deprecation. “I wouldn’t say so.” 

Toji just shrugged and continued fiddling with the last bits of laundry. 

“Sure, you’re a little rough around the edges.” 

“Can’t deny that,” he grumbled. 

“You can be a bit grumpy sometimes, and you have a history of giving in to questionable decisions and habits.” 

Toji shot you a withering look. “You really know how to kick a guy while he’s down.” 

“And,” you emphasized, holding up your hand to indicate that you weren’t finished, “you have a really tragic backstory that just makes the whole thing sad.” 

For once, Toji seemed to be struck speechless, stupefied by the bluntness of your words, and the bundle of socks he had been playing with rolled from his hand. 

“But,” you said, “there’s no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you, Toji.” Your husband, who had clearly been a bit rankled by the conversation, melted. The tension released from his shoulders and the puckered set of his lips smoothed out into a dopey grin as his countenance perked up.

“I love you too,” he teased, his tone light and easy, “even if you are something else.” 

You beamed at him as he got up to gather the laundry in his arms and set it in on the dresser in front of your bed, intending to deal with it tomorrow. He then flopped onto his stomach on the bed next to you, shaking the whole thing under his weight, and if the two of you hadn’t already thoroughly tested its limits, you’d worry about its ability to handle the size of him. The thought had your blood suddenly running hot and you rolled onto your side to nip at his ear when a different sensation in your lower half made you pause. 

For the last two weeks you had been feeling the tiny bubbles in your stomach and knew that your baby had gotten big enough for you to begin to take notice of its movement. However, this was the first time it felt significant enough to be noticed from the outside. You returned to your position on your back and pressed your hand lightly into the skin under your belly button. Nothing happened for a minute, and just as you were ready to give up, you felt the faintest hiccup against your palm. 

“Toji!” you blurted, and you urged yourself to stay still despite your excitement lest your little one move again and hide away. 

“You going to insult me again?” Toji’s voice was muffled from where his face was mushed into his pillow. 

“No,” you scoffed, wiggling your fingers at him even though he couldn’t see, “come here.” He groaned in protest but propped himself up on his elbows to shift onto his side nonetheless, and you snapped your hand out to grab his.

“What are you—,” 

“Shh!” You didn’t bother explaining as you covered his hand with yours and settled it onto your belly where yours had just been. His jaw shut with an audible click. You watched Toji’s expression carefully as you waited for another burst of movement, and even though you knew this wasn’t a foreign experience to him like it was to you, overwhelming joy filled you to your depths when his eyes glossed over with wonder as his child wiggled against his palm. He was quick to gather you to his chest with the arm that wasn’t draped over your hip and you tucked your head under his chin in an attempt to snuggle as close to him as you could manage. 

“Megumi’s going to get a kick out of that tomorrow—literally.” Toji’s voice was thick with emotion, as well as amusement at his own cleverness, and you swatted at his chest. But your laughter deceived you and Toji placed kisses all along the top of your head. 

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

Toji wondered if all the blood on the floor was retribution for the amount of it he had spilled in the years before. It pooled slowly, eating up the white of the tile and creeping closer until it stained the tip of his shoes. He was empty, void of anything really, and maybe this was the curse doomed to follow him. Loneliness, robbed of anyone precious to him, and instead of incandescent joy that should have taken over him at the sight of his newly born child, nothing except for seething rage and despair filled his mind. There was hatred for a family name that he had already tried to escape, a desire to soothe himself in all the previous vices that had once kept him occupied, and bewilderment that he was somehow in the same situation again.

It was all eerily similar, from the sudden rush of panicked movement in the room to the way he fell back into a cushioned chair, just barely conscious of the baby in his arms. The face of his late wife and yours flashed back and forth, superimposed onto each other as the two of you laid still with eyes closed and arms slackened at your sides. A shrill whine, a solid ringing filled his ears and silenced all other noise. 

Not again. Not again, not again, not ag—,

Years of discipline kept Toji from jolting into wakefulness, but he did suck in a mouthful of air when his eyes opened and took in the darkness of your bedroom. He wasn’t trapped in the sterile four walls of a hospital room, nor was he struck numb by the darkness of your blood. Instead, sweat stuck the sheets to the skin of his back, and above him the fan you always insisted be on spun quickly. The thought of you had his hand clambering across to your side of the bed, but when all that met his fingers was the unusual coolness of your pillow, he lurched upwards, flipped on his bedside lamp, and searched the room.

Rationality told Toji that you were probably fine, that you were in the bathroom or the living room and would be back any second. Rationality would tell him that there wasn’t any need for him to seek you out and confirm you were alive with his own eyes. But adrenaline, a tragic memory, and the nausea simmering in his gut drove him from bed and onto his feet, clad only in his boxers.

Toji was still a bit disoriented from his nightmare, and he tried to be extra mindful of his heavy footfalls as he passed the door of Megumi’s room. As he neared the end of the hallway, he heard the faintest plink of metal against glass and the racing of his heart slowed at the sound before ultimately returning to normal when saw you in the kitchen. 

Despite it being well into the middle of the night, you leaned back onto the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in your hands and a happy hum in the back of your throat. Your belly sat low between your hips, pulling taut the fabric of his shirt that served as your outfit of choice as of late, and the sight of it was a reminder that you were nearing the end of nine months now. Nervousness was a constant state Toji was in as your due date rapidly approached, and if he thought too hard about it, panic would shorten his breath and tunnel his vision, such as it was beginning to do in that moment. Thus, Toji wasn’t sure if he made a noise or if you just happened to notice him out of your peripheral vision when you turned your head to him, curiosity taking over your face. 

“Did I wake you?” you whispered, spooning one last bite of cereal into your mouth before setting it into the sink behind you. Toji shook his head and padded over to your side. He dropped his head to rest his cheek on your hair and trailed a hand down your stomach to spread his palm over the front of it. Satisfaction coursed through his veins when you let out a happy, weary sigh and leaned into his chest to rest your weight against him. 

Toji knew you were struggling. He knew your hips ached and it made walking a chore. He knew that your back only stopped hurting after he rubbed the muscles loose for half an hour and that everything including breathing had become difficult for you. The baby kicked you awake during the night, and if you weren’t tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable, you were up and going to the bathroom for the nth time. Toji did his best to dote on you in between his job, taking care of Megumi, and doing all the chores around the house. He certainly did want this to be all over for you so you could bask in the enjoyment of motherhood, but each day closer to your child’s birth spiked his anxiety exponentially higher, and he ashamedly wished he could ignore what was to come. 

“Would you like to go back to bed?” he asked, taking a step backwards. 

You nodded your head unwillingly. “I’m too uncomfortable to sleep right now. If I stay up and watch TV in bed will that bother you?” 

“No,” he replied immediately, and Toji was secretly glad he wouldn’t have to stare up at a dark ceiling, too afraid to close his eyes when all he wanted to do was bask in the warmth of your body and the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

The two of you made a slow walk back to your room, and Toji helped you into bed and shifted the pillows behind your back until you were as comfortable as can be in your given state. He scrubbed his hands over his face to rid his eyes of the tiredness that lingered behind them and then slid in next to you as you focused on flipping through channels on the TV. Toji snaked his right arm under the small of your back and wound his left across your lap so his hand could cup the side of your belly and then set the side of his face on the top of it. Your fingers came to scratch through his hair absentmindedly, and the relief that Toji felt from your touch and the quiet thump of your heart was nearly instantaneous. 

As minutes ticked by and most of the lingering tension from his nightmare had subsided, Toji still found himself tapping against the side of your stomach and pushing his fingers against it in an effort to get his child to respond to him. 

You reached an arm over his head to prod at the center of your belly yourself. “He’s been wiggling around a bunch throughout the day, but he might be right about here…” you trailed off just in time for Toji to feel a quick bump under his cheek. 

“I think you meant ‘she,’ isn’t that right?” he said with a smile. Only one of you was to be right about who your child was destined to be, but neither would know until they came out to meet you. 

“No, ‘he’ was correct, thank you very much.” Affection warmed his body and Toji pressed his fingers back into your skin so he could feel the movement again. The baby reciprocated his touch each time until Toji finally relented and figured you’d appreciate the break from being repeatedly poked and prodded. Your palm drifted down to cup his jaw and the swiping of your thumb over it was enough to lull him into the beginnings of sleep. He snuggled a bit closer into your side and let out a great exhale, recalling how you had once made a comment likening him to a large, lounging dog. Toji supposed he could understand what you meant. Really, at the end of the day, all he wanted to do was cling close to you and bask in the pleasure of your touch. 

While Toji knew that no amount of time he spent listening to your heartbeat or prompting his child into movement would prevent a cruel fate from bestowing you both should it be decided, he would let himself pretend if it meant keeping himself together enough to see it through. 

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

As a surprise to no one at all, childbirth was just as nerve wracking for Toji the second time around as it was the first. 

It didn’t help that he had been on pins and needles since your due date had come and gone, so when you stumbled out of bed and into the living room on the morning of the third day passed, your hand clutching your stomach and a harrowed expression on your face, Toji was coiled tight enough that he sprung into movement. He flung Megumi over his shoulder and was across the room at the same moment to grab the bags you kept at the ready by the front door. By the time you walked out, teetering between amusement at how your husband scurried about and uneasiness at the thought of what was about to happen to your body, Toji already had the car loaded and turned on. A few minutes later, you almost felt bad for Megumi when Toji stopped outside the Itadori’s house to practically throw him at Yuji’s dad—followed by his overnight bag—had the boy not already been hollering to his best friend about how he was about to get a new baby sibling. 

At the hospital, the terrible familiarity of the beige walls and speckled tile had Toji desperate to pace the room at how trapped he felt, but the desire to stay put next to your bedside and keep your hand in his won out. Labor could take hours, that he knew, and Toji spent every moment of it cycling his eyes between the baby’s heart monitor, your face, and the clock on the wall. Each time your expression would twist into a pained grimace, your hand would crush his and a potent cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and anticipation would send his heart racing. 

When the day turned into evening, just an hour before midnight, a doctor placed Toji Fushiguro’s second son onto your bare chest, much to his shock and delight. The noise in the room threatened to overwhelm him—the excited exclamations of the nurses, your panted gasps, the shrill crying of a newborn baby--but Toji wouldn’t let anything tear his focus from you. He stared at how wisps of your hair stuck to your temples in sweat, the red of your cheeks, how your eyes were full of tears and wonder and flicked back and forth between him and your child. Toji knew (how he wished he didn’t) that you could be fine in one instant and dead in the next, but for every minute that passed where you still breathed and your heart kept beating, he could feel the fear slowly trickle from his body. 

Once he was an hour old, Toji held his son for the first time as he sat next to you on your hospital bed. The baby had your nose and tufts of hair the same color as yours, and Toji realized with a sudden pain in his chest that he didn’t remember Megumi in his first couple hours. He couldn’t recall what it felt like to hold him for the first time, nor did he know how much he weighed just after birth. All the tiny details he assumed every parent would remember until the end of their days was overshadowed by a curtain of devastation, the death of his wife wiping it clean from his memory. 

So this time, when the room was quiet and he had you leaning against him, he studied every part of his newborn with rapt attention, determined to commit every detail to perfect recollection. And unlike before, in a moment he’ll always mourn, Toji felt peace and quiet and something indescribably blissful. 

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

It wasn’t so much that Toji forgot what it was like to have a newborn so much as he had completely blocked what could be considered some of the worst days of his life from his memory. He had been too sleep deprived to even properly grieve his wife and utterly shell shocked at the prospect of now being a widower and single dad. There had been no one to help, no one to encourage him when Megumi cried for two hours straight in the dead of night for a reason Toji couldn’t begin to figure out, no one to help him plan for a couple months down the line when his savings inevitably ran out and he’d have to figure out a safe, legal plan for employment or consider the risk of something illegal since it paid better. 

Yet two weeks into it, when Toji was just starting to discern the difference between Megumi’s wails of hunger and those of exhaustion, someone knocked on his door. He grumbled the whole way down the hall in fear that the sound would wake the baby he had just spent the last hour putting down, and also because he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten or let alone brushed his teeth. So, Toji figured he looked worse for wear when he swung the door open and glared at the man on the other side of it. He was middle aged and wore dark clothing and an even darker pair of sunglasses. He claimed he was an instructor at a school in the city and came to find him out when he heard that rumors began to swirl of Toji Zenin having a son. Toji had spat at him, snarling and enraged and cursing his old last name with vehemence, and he was all too ready to come to physical blows had his son not been sleeping just a few yards away. In the end, the man had just smiled and extended his hand with the promise of a job and to call him the next day. Toji had been wary, but he knew that pickiness wasn’t a luxury he could afford, and appeared at the gates of the school a week later with Megumi strapped to his chest. 

Things were a bit different now, that at least Toji could acknowledge, and the heavy exhaustion that threatened to wrench his eyes shut and made his hands clumsy as he refilled your water bottle didn’t feel so catastrophic this time around. He squinted at the clock on the wall and sighed wearily when he realized the night wasn’t yet halfway over and the two of you were already up for the sixth time. Five day old newborns apparently would wake up and eat more frequently than he could remember, and each and every time he insisted on getting up with you to tend to any needs you had while ensuring his son got the meal he demanded. With an extra snack in hand and a full bottle of water, Toji shuffled back to your shared bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. 

“You fall asleep standing up at the counter again?” Your voice broke the silence and got a chuckle out of him as he fell onto the bed in a heap by your side. 

“Something like that,” he muttered, but thankfully you didn’t pry and instead gave him a grateful smile when he unwrapped your granola bar and held it up to your mouth since your hands were preoccupied with holding the infant to your chest. You munched on it slowly, and in between bites you would settle  your head back against the pillows and let your eyes flutter shut, trusting your husband to keep a dutiful watch on the two of you. Toji moved closer to you so he could gently rest his head against your shoulder and peered down at his son as he got his fill of milk. He rubbed a tiny foot in between his thumb and forefinger and grinned at the soft suckling noises he made, amazed at how differently things felt this time. Toji was stunned at how having a new child felt so much like the first time since he could actually slow down to process it all now. Maybe this time, when history didn’t repeat himself and he was at home with the people he loved, contentment would allow the memories to stay. 

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

It happened for the first time three weeks after your son was born. 

That particular Saturday was dreary and wet, but it made for a cozy atmosphere as the four of you lounged about after a late morning breakfast. Toji was putting away the last remaining dishes. The TV played a vintage cartoon on low volume and Megumi sat on the floor in front of your feet as he colored quietly in his notebook. You sat curled up in the corner of the sofa with your newborn nestled in the crook of your arm, and you watched him, utterly transfixed. As he slept, his nose would twitch and his bottom lip would jut forward. Every once and a while, a dainty grunt would escape his mouth and he would squirm and stretch and whimper just a little before going still again as he drifted back into deeper sleep. He let out a yawn that seemed to take over his entire little body, and in the next moment he was blinking up at you with unfocused eyes as his lips smacked together once or twice. The sight of it made your heart feel as though it could burst, and you wiggled your finger into his clenched hand just to feel him hold onto it. 

“Oh, hey, his eyes are open.” Toji’s voice caught you unaware, and you jolted a little at the suddenness of it. You glanced up at your husband from where he leaned against the arm of the couch to your right, and there was a soft smile on his face as he traced a finger gently down the apple of the baby’s cheek. The newborn’s eyes couldn’t hardly focus on his father’s face from how far it was, but it certainly seemed like he looked for Toji in the moment before his lashes fluttered and his eyes slid shut. 

Toji drank in the sight of you two. There was a blissful glow to your features that couldn’t be missed, even through the signs of exhaustion that still lingered from another night of caring for a new baby. You barely paid him any mind as you smoothed your palm over the wispy hairs on your son’s head, and Toji decided that he would give you another couple minutes before gently urging you to take some time away to shower and do your morning routine should you feel like it. He pushed himself off the arm of the couch and made a move to step around it and sit down when Megumi spoke up from the floor. 

“Mama?” 

Megumi’s voice was barely above a whisper, and it was heartbreakingly timid. The single word punched all the air from Toji’s lungs and he stumbled mid-stride, just barely steading himself lest he land in a heap on top of his eldest son. Megumi didn’t move from where he was hunched over his notebook, still coloring carefully onto the paper, but Toji could see the burning red of his ears and how his eyes flicked back to take stock of your reactions before they went back to what was in front of him.

When Toji whipped his head towards you, you were already looking up at him with a wide, helpless expression. You had never once pushed passed a boundary Toji had yet to lift when it came to how you handled your roll as Megumi’s stepmother, and he could see from the way your eyes searched his that you were waiting for his guidance, his acquiescence before you dared to respond back to the little boy who had just referred to you as his mother despite you technically not being such. 

To Toji’s endless gratitude, you had always treated his late wife with the utmost respect. While you almost always fielded Megumi’s questions about her to Toji, you didn’t hesitate to pull out photos of her when he asked, nor had you ever tried to erase her significance as Megumi’s mother over the time in which you had become a part of their family. 

However, as Toji had come to acknowledge, there was no denying that Megumi had come to see you in that way. Not so much as the woman who had birthed him (Toji had explained that to him in child-friendly terms) but in every other way a mother would be seen. Megumi had no tangible connection to his late wife, no emotional attachment to the idea of her that Toji hoped one day would blossom as understanding matured in his mind, but to hold that expectation to him now wasn’t fair. Toji knew, as you looked at his son with tears of adoration and love in your eyes, that you had been making space for Megumi in your heart for a very long time in preparation for this possible moment, and he figured that having the love of a mother in the land of the living didn’t take away from the one now gone. 

If nothing else, he supposed that Megumi would catch onto your shared habit eventually. Frequently did you and Toji refer to yourself as such when tending to the new little one. 

“Shhh, Mama’s here,” you’d murmur when he wailed out his discomfort while the four of you watched TV in the early afternoon. 

“Mama’s comin’, kid, I promise,” Toji would say when the baby would nuzzle into his chest in a search for milk when he and Megumi sat together on your bed while you showered at the end of the day.

So Toji swept a hand along your shoulder, capturing your attention, and his quivering smile paired well with the tear that trickled down your cheek when he nodded at you. Your hand swiped away the moisture from your skin and you cleared your throat.

“Yes, Megumi?” Your voice sounded a little thick and wet, but the boy spun around in astonished elation nonetheless, and his smile was so wide that Toji wondered if it stung the skin at all. Megumi jumped up to his feet but very cautiously approached you until he could rest his hands on your knees and stand on his tiptoes to try and look up at his baby brother. 

“Mama, can I hold him?” You giggled and nodded as you reached out your hand to caress Megumi’s chin, and he squirmed where he stood as excitement made him antsy. 

“Of course,” you told him. “Come sit next to me and your dad will sit on the other side to help you.” Toji felt his heart expand further than he thought possible when the two of you turned towards him with loving, expectant looks that spurred him into movement.

“Up you go, Megs,” he said, lifting his son up from under his arms so he could plop him down on the cushion next to you before taking a seat himself. He threw an arm along the back of the sofa so he could scootch in closer to you three. Once Megumi situated himself, you slowly transferred the sleeping infant to lay him in his brother’s lap, and Toji was there waiting with an open hand to help cup his head and neck. 

“He’s still so small,” Megumi said quietly—wondrously—but you and Toji laughed at how the baby was still too big for Megumi to fully cradle in his arms. 

“Don’t worry,” you said, “he’ll grow big before you know it, and then he’ll be ready to play all day with you.” Megumi offered you a small smile in response before he settled back to watching his little brother snooze in his arms. You propped your elbow on the back of the sofa so you could lean your head into your hand, and Toji stretched his fingers to swirl them against your arm. Your eyes met, still glimmering with the last remnants of joyful tears, and Toji was nearly overwhelmed by a surge of emotion as he took in the little family that the four of you made.

Fear had once hung like a heavy shadow over his hope for an idyllic future and his ability to experience it. Your smile and the small hands of his children were there to whisk it away. 

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

A little bonus:

Three years after the birth of your son, a daughter made her appearance nearly two weeks early, thrilling her eagerly awaiting older brothers. For all the work you did, she came out a near exact copy of her father, and Toji had no problem letting you know how proud he was about it as you laid propped up next to him in your hospital bed. 

“I’m telling you, there was a hint of green in them!” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you watched Toji recline your daughter against his knees with her head cradled in his palms so you could both gaze at her, and she looked positively tiny in the breadth of his hands. 

“You know a baby’s eye color might shift from what it was at birth once they get a bit older. We can’t know for certain yet.” 

The words seemed to have no effect on your husband, and he simply dropped a kiss to your temple and murmured a soft “we’ll see,” into your ear. 

(To your surprise—and secret delight—Toji was right.)

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

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this<3 I really just love giving tortured characters soft, happy endings, so I hope you enjoyed this endless rambling of fluffy fluff.

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Yn tells Lewis she's dating Mick

― Summary: Yn and Mick finally broke the friendship barrier and started something else. It's time Yn tells her brother what's going on between her and his teammate. ― Word count:��1k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: curse words; mention of anxiety; typos - not proofread.

⁕ see my masterlist | my taglist | KOMH Masterlist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment

There was a knock at Lewis' hotel door and he rushed to open it, confusion written on his face since nobody told him someone would show up. The second he opened the big wooden door he smiled, though it only lasted for the blink of an eye because he quickly gathered how Yn seemed apprehensive.

His sister was wearing one of his Merc white shirts paired with sweatpants and slippers. Her curls were up in her head messily gathered together by a colorful hair tie.

"Hey, bitsy, what's up?" he asked while opening the door wider for her to get inside. Yn did exactly that, running to one of the big armchairs in the room and folding herself there like a cat would.

"How would you feel if I told you I'm dating someone?" She asked before Lewis could say anything else. That was his sister, she would rush through things when nervous, too many expectations would make her feel sick and Yn hated feeling sick, so it was normal for her to just blurt her questions or confessions whenever something important was on the line, just like she was doing at the moment.

Lewis arched his brows, "Ok, I guess, as long as you're happy. But do you think you're ready for a new relationship?" he asked genuinely interested in her answer.

"I don't know, but I really like him, Lew. And I always wanna be around him, it's just...I- mhm I've never felt like this before." She confessed, eyes cast down. It wasn't that Yn was afraid of Lewis judging her because he would never, but he was her older brother and she held his opinion on the highest space. She was just afraid to let him down.

"I'm happy for you guys, then. Is Mick going to tell me too or-"

"Wait! How'd you know it's Mick?" Yn eyed Lewis up and down and he gave her one of his signature laughs.

"You think you're folling people? Be for real, Yn. Everyone knows or suspects. And even if you weren't obvious, I'm your older brother, I know you. I knew you were interested in him from day one didn't I?"

Yn huffed, rolled her eyes, got up, and then crashed on the oldest Hamilton hugging him.

"Thank you. I was a bit taken aback, afraid you were gonna be mad because I kind of promised to stay away."

"I knew if you truly liked him you wouldn't be able to stay away, bitsy."

She breathed in his scent and took a step back. Lewis caught a single tear on her cheek and held her face with both of his hands.

"You're safe with me. Spill it," his gentle tone made yet another tear roll down, and Yn chuckled holding back a sob.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was a weak whisper, but the British heard her perfectly. "I think things may be happening too fast, and I want them to go like this, but I'm also scared of all the attention we're getting. I mean, everyone is talking about us, and we haven't even started dating officially. I'm scared of how this can go and I don't want you to be caught in the crossfire, Lew. The media is always looking for things to point out when you're the subject and I-"

"Hey, breathe." Lewis held her face tighter as if by doing so he was holding her together too. Yn closed her eyes, breathed in and out following his lead, and then they sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about me. I'm the oldest. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of humor in his comment and Yn chuckled.

"I know, but-"

"No, Bitsy. No buts. Stop worrying about me. I'm happy you're with Mick. If I had to choose a guy from the Grid it would most likely be him. I've seen the way he treats you and how careful he is with you. He's a good guy. Please, don't let your anxiety get in the way. People will talk about us it doesn't matter if we do things right or wrong, at the end of the day, you do what you gotta do to be happy, you hear me?"

Yn nodded, tears flowing down her face again. "Thank you, Lew."

"You don't have to thank me, Yn. I always going to have your back. Now, where's your phone, I wanna talk to your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes chuckling, "he's not my boyfriend...we haven't discussed titles yet."

"You two are so oblivious," Lewis rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and unlocked Yn's phone, "if you change your password to his birthday instead of mine, I will be hurt," he tried to lighten the mood again, already searching through her contacts for the Schumacher's name.

"Hey, Mick...Can you come to my room real quick? I gotta talk to you...Yeah, my sister is crying here, and...yeah...yeah...I'm waiting."

"What the heck, Lewis?!" Yn screeched and Lewis just laughed.

It was barely a minute after and there were frantic knocks at the door. Lewis got up to answer and Yn buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by whatever prank her brother wanted to throw.

When Mick got inside he had his cheeks flushed from using the stairs and eyes wide, "what happened?" he asked and Lewis crossed his arms trying to hold back his laughter.

"Nothing, Mick. I told him about us and he wanted to prank you or embarrass us together, I dunno," Yn got up from the bed and she smiled at his reluctant face. His eyes were traveling between the siblings, but his body was turned in Yn's direction.

"Well, there goes my older brother's fun," the Hamilton sighed, and Yn rolled her eyes yet again that night, walking to Mick and hugging him. "Welcome to the family, Schumacher," Lewis smiled at the blonde.

"I'm sorry to inform you that it can get crazier than this." Yn adverted.

"I won't mind it if it means I got you," he whispered and she smiled.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: It's been forever since I last updated it, but I'm gonna start working on it, I promiseeee <3 we're having this series finished in no time! I hope you guys liked this extra, let me know your thoughts by leaving a comment/ask and reblogging *mwah*.

Taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @non-stop-imagines @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintlewis @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @81astri @pinksstrawberry @callsign-scully @moonyschocolate3 @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris (let me know if your tag was supposed to be only for my other works and you don’t wanna be tagged on the series! <3)

[ironstrange1991]

Forbidden (Part 8): I'm Yours

+18 Smut

Pairing: Doctor Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When Y/n attends a doctor's appointment she ends up discovering something about Stephen's past. At night, desire and reason wage a battle that both she and Stephen cannot fight against.

Word Count: 11,3k

Warnings: SMUT: Fingering, oral sex with male and female receiving, cum eating.

A/N: This one is very long but I had a very nice time writing it. I really hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;) - Also I was very tired while editing this one so any typos os grammar mistakes will be fixed later.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Stephen had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know how to cook.  He barely knew how to make coffee and tea, but he needed to have something ready to offer you when you woke up. So he got up and went straight to the kitchen to try his luck preparing breakfast.  However, his attempt was frustrated when the eggs began to stick to the bottom of the pan and the bacon, forgotten in the fire, turned to charcoal.

"Shit" He cursed, turning off the heat and using the napkin to try to remove any evidence of smoke from the kitchen. "Okay, plan B." He said throwing the napkin on the stove and resorting to the sling ring in the pocket of his pants. He was about to open a portal when he heard Wong and America's voices approaching.

"What's that smell?" America said as they entered the kitchen. She looked from Stephen to the stove and back to him. "Were you trying to cook?"

He sighed, returning the sling ring to his pocket.

"How many times have I told you to stay out of my kitchen, Strange?" Wong scolded, taking a good look around and then pointed to the frying pan. "Was that supposed to be bacon?"

 "It's my kitchen. I'm the master of this Sanctum and yes, it was supposed to be bacon, but I forgot it in the fire because I was trying to cook the eggs..."

America sat at the table and looked at him for a second. "This is so weird. Why are you acting so weird? And since when do you try to cook?"

Wong moved his fingers and immediately the remnants of Stephen's attempt to make breakfast disappeared. The smell also disappeared. "What does she eat?"

"Wait, who?" America asked and then smiled openly. “Does Y/n here?”

"He wouldn't try to make breakfast for himself." Wong confirmed. “He would rather starve.”

Stephen rested his hands on his hips, running his tongue around the corner of his mouth. "It's not what you’re thinking."

America grimaced. "Oh, gross."

"It's nothing like that. I picked her up at a party and we talked and it got late. That's all."

Wong smirked, clearly unconvinced. Somehow he had already started making a batter that Stephen thought was pancakes. The eggs were already scrambled and ready to go in the frying pan and the bacon slices were already arranged in the other frying pan. Of course he used magic to cook, but Stephen didn't even know how to do that. He never understood the cooking spells books.

"I have no idea what she eats..." He admitted.

"I'm sure she'll be satisfied. She doesn't seem very demanding..."  Wong said without a trace of humor.

Stephen frowned at the comment, but decided not to say anything. Instead he turned to America.

"How are things at Kamar Taj? Have you learned anything special that you want to show me?"

"Boring." The girl replied, "But my portals are more stable, and Wong let me read the astral projection books."

Stephen nodded turning to face Wong. "Is she ready for this yet?"

"No, but she's impatient and stubborn, much like someone I know." Wong responded. He was finishing preparing the eggs and bacon and starting to fry the pancakes.

The corners of Stephen's lips turned up in a discreet smile. "I'm sure she can handle it, then."

America smiled proudly.

...

When you opened your eyes, you had to make an effort to understand where you were, but little by little the memories of last night came back to you and you felt your heart racing in your chest. Your hand felt the mattress next to you, finding only empty space where Stephen once was and you understood that you were alone in the room.

You smiled to yourself while a movie played in your head and without thinking about what you were doing, you hugged his pillow and brought it to your nose, breathing in his delicious smell into your lungs. It was fresh, like some kind of herb scent you couldn’t identify. You decided you loved that smell.

 Everything was so surreal, but at the same time it felt so right. Every kiss, every touch, and that orgasm... Even though you felt blushing, you didn't feel like you had done anything wrong, quite the opposite. And you wanted more. So much more. You wanted to experience everything with him, give yourself completely to him. Somehow you felt like everything made sense now. You never found anyone to lose your virginity to because in reality it was always Stephen.

It took a few minutes for you to finally get up and you were leaving the bathroom, dressed in your dress and boots when Stephen entered the room.

"Hey, good morning." He said, approaching you and kissing you softly as if you had already done that a million times.

"Good morning" You said into his lips. "I used your toothbrush again."

Stephen smirked "Hmm, I can get used to this."

"Hmm, you're so responsive." He whispered in your ear and then stepped away smirking, pleased to see you falling apart for him.

"Maybe you should." You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him properly now and his tongue tasted like coffee and toothpaste.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and broke the kiss only to tuck his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Not satisfied, he rubbed his goatee on your skin and finished with a little bite on your earlobe, making your entire body tremble.  He was such a tease, you thought.

"Breakfast is ready." He informed casually. "Wong and America are back. They're waiting for us downstairs."

You needed a minute to recover from the state he left you in so you could finally think straight.

"Stephen... I don't know if it's a good idea. Wong..."

"He made you breakfast. He has his reservations because of the age difference, but he's on our side, sweetheart. Both are."

You seemed to think for a second.

"Or I can take you home now, like I promised." He offered but you could see the disappointment in his expressions. You shook your head taking his hand in yours.

"No, it's okay. I'm starving and I'm not looking forward to leave you, anyway."

"Me neither." He confessed kissing you. “I feel like a teenager. Don’t want to let you go.”

You smiled feeling your heart flutter in your chest.  You were understanding little by little that that feeling would be an usual thing from now on.

You couldn't say that you ever imagined sitting at the table having breakfast with Wong knowing that he knew you and Stephen were together. It was kind of a dream come true, but at the same time it was scary too. Wong was scaring. He didn't hide the way he looked at you and Stephen. America also didn't make a point of hiding the smile on her face and you began to realize that both of them had joined the dots and reached the very obvious conclusion that you were Stephen had slept together. Well, you had slept together, but the term usually implied that you had had sex, but you hadn't. Not exactly. Well, everything was a bit confusing at the moment.

"America told me you have a show scheduled for tonight." Stephen said, breaking the silence that was starting to get awkward. "You hadn't told me anything."

In fact, you had completely forgotten. Ever since Stephen took you to the Sanctum, everything outside seemed to have ceased to exist.

"I forgot to mention. I actually have a rehearsal this afternoon. It's a big avenue, I'm excited to see how it goes."

Stephen smiled reassuringly at you, clearly noticing the nervousness in your voice. “I’m sure you’re going to be great.”

"Thank you.” You smiled  “You guys should come.  I'd love to have some familiar faces in the audience." You added.

"I would love to..." Stephen started to say, but was quickly cut off by Wong.

"But he will have to decline because we have work to do."

"Come on Wong, it's Sunday." America complained. "Stephen just got back."

"And that's why he has a lot to do." Wong completed and then returned to you "You'll see that dating a master of the mystical arts is not as advantageous as you think, Miss Y/l/n. Especially one his age."

You could notice a slight blush on Stephen's cheeks, that’s why you were firm in your answer. "I am very grateful for everything you guys do to protect us, Wong, and I am prepared for the challenges that await me."

Stephen smirked, but soon turned his attention to America who was whispering about the possibility of going to the show.

Wong pretended not to notice and turned to you again "What about your family? I don't believe Stark will be satisfied with this new arrangement."

"It's not an arrangement, it's a relationship, Wong" Stephen corrected.

"We agreed that we'll wait to tell Tony. It's still too early, but I'm sure he'll understand." You said trying to sound confident, but deep down you were terrified with the idea.

Wong didn't say anything else and you had the strange feeling of being in an interview, as if Wong wanted to know if you were good enough or weren't going to cause problems for Stephen. The situation was awkward, but the idea of ​​Wong caring about Stephen was pleasant, after all you knew Stephen had no family besides Wong and America.

...

“Have a nice show” Stephen said as you walked through the portal to your room.

"You are not going?" The disappointment in your voice was palpable which made him smile.

"I promise I'll try." He said threatening to close the portal.

"Stephen..."

He waited for what you had to say, but you actually didn't have anything specific to say, you just wanted to spend a few more seconds in his presence.

"I really loved last night." You confessed, feeling your cheeks blush.

He smirked seeming visibly relieved.

"I know you're insecure about what we did, but I enjoyed having that moment with you and... I really want to have more of that, of everything."

He nodded and his smile widened into a cute sideways smile.

"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."

"Bye then. Hope to see you tomorrow."

"You will. One way or another."

...

The days that followed were a torment. You were on fire inside, but you needed to pretend everything was normal. You needed to contain all that euphoria and act as if nothing was happening and of course you were failing miserably.

Your life was changing for the better. College was going very well, your band, that you always saw as something condemned to failure, was having success and recognition that you never dreamed it would have, your show on the biggest avenue you've ever played was a real hit - it could have been better if Stephen had been there to see you, but unfortunately it wasn't possible as he explained - and most important of all, you and Stephen were together and even though everything had to be hidden, you were more than happy about it. It was a dream come true.

It was a Wednesday morning and you were having breakfast with Nat, Tony - who had returned from the mission the day before - and Pepper. You were late for college, but you had decided it wouldn't hurt to miss the first class of the morning since you were way ahead of your class anyway. You hadn't been able to see Stephen since Sunday night and although you spoke every day on the phone you missed him deeply. You thought about making up some excuse to go to the Sanctum, but it seemed he would be too busy and couldn't pay attention to you even if you did.

You sighed, feeling bored and just pretending to participate in the conversation and your cell phone started to buzz with messages that didn't stop arriving. You knew it was Stephen. He always texted you at that time to say good morning and wish you a good class. It was cute actually, but you didn't want to answer because you knew you would look silly reading his texts, blushing like a teenage girl, and you didn't want Tony to ask questions, but the texts kept coming and at first Tony pretended not to care by putting a lot of effort into reading his newspaper, but when the buzzing continued he placed the newspaper on the table and stared you.

"If you don't read these texts I'm going to make Friday hack your cell phone and read them to us." He threatened.

You took your phone and read the texts feeling your cheeks blush and of course Pepper noticed because she were very observant, but she made a point of starting a new topic to distract Tony for which you were glad.

"The record company called to schedule a new meeting with Y/n. Apparently the success of Sunday's concert caught their attention."

"The fact that her songs are playing on the radio non-stop seems like a good reason too." Tony added.

"Those fuckers were extremely disrespectful last time. I don't see any point in giving them a second chance when you're doing so well on your own." Nat addressed you, but you weren't really paying attention to them, your mind was still on those texts.

"Y/n... are you listening to what we're saying?" Tony pressed.

You put your phone back in your pants pocket without answering and shrugged, "I like the idea of ​​being independent. I've never really wanted a record company, not like this. We all know they're only interested in having the Stark name under their wing."

Tony sighed "You might be right." He pointed to your pocket "Who was it?"

"America" ​​You lied through your teeth.

"What does she want?" He asked and Pepper gave you a disapproving glare  that said she wasn't buying that lie.

"She's still struggling with her philosophy classes. Maybe I'll stop by the Sanctum tomorrow to help her." You said taking the opportunity to come up with a excuse to go there.

"It's a great idea. Just be careful not to end up disturbing the wizards. You know, protectors of reality bla bla bla." Tony teased.

"Stephen and Wong will probably be at the Kamar Taj." You ran to explain.

"Excellent." He said, wiping his lips on his napkin and standing up. "Anyway, I trust your good judgment about the band and everything else. It's been working out really well so far." He said, bending down to place a small kiss on the top of your head like he always did since you were a child. You smiled at him sheepishly, feeling bad for hiding something so important from him.

"What are the plans for today?" Pepper asked getting up too.

"Work in the workshop if I'm lucky. You?"

"Company shareholders meeting."

He made a funny face "I'm glad I'm not you."

You watched the two walk away with a smile on your face. Tony and Pepper were perfect for each other and they gave you a sense of family and belonging that you never imagined you would feel again after your parents died.

Your cell phone buzzed again, and you knew it was Stephen asking for an answer.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to threaten you too?" Nat asked looking visibly bored. Apparently life as a convalescent Avenger wasn't all that exciting and since Bruce had a lot of work he couldn't give her the attention she craved.

GOOD MORNING, LOVE. I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL AND HAVE A GREAT DAY.

You took your cell phone and decided to show her the texts. It was time for you to tell someone and the options were her and MJ, but MJ was in Boston.

You stayed silent watching her reading the words you knew by heart.

I SCHEDULED AN APPOINTMENT FOR YOU WITH DR PALMER AFTER OUR CONVERSATION YESTERDAY. SHE ATTENDS AT METRO GENERAL HOSPITAL. IT WILL BE THIS AFTERNOON. I KNOW YOU ARE FREE BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME.

PLEASE GO AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT TONIGHT IF YOU WANT.

 I MISS YOU, SWEETHEART. TALKING ON THE PHONE IS NOT ENOUGH AND I CAN'T GET THE MEMORIES OF SATURDAY NIGHT OUT OF MY HEAD.

SO, WHAT DO YOU TELL ME? ARE YOU GOING?

It took Nat less than a minute to google who Dr. Palmer was and the look on her face showed that she had gotten it all wrong.

"You two aren't that stupid!" She said sharply and you felt offended that she could make assumptions about you like that.

"It's not what you are thinking." You defended yourself and took the cell phone out of her hand. "It's actually the opposite of that."

Nat waited for you to explain, and you glanced around the empty dining room.

"Nat, I'm virgin. I swear I thought you knew that, after all you are a Russian spy."

She raised an eyebrow. "I always knew that, but according to these texts you no longer are."

You smiled to yourself remembering the night you had with Stephen and decided that nothing in the world would make you tell that to Nat. "We had a moment together, it was good, but we didn't get to do anything. Not yet. He's decided to take it slow and respect my own time."

Nat nodded in agreement, looking offensively impressed.

"But the truth is, I don't want to wait another minute to do it. I really love him, Nat. It has to be him. It couldn't be anyone else."

"Look, I confess that Strange has surprised me positively. And I think it should happen, it's been a long time coming."

"Nat!"

"I'm just trying to say that I think he's sensible. As sensible as possible since he's picking this fight with Stark."

You bit the corner of your cheek trying to decide whether or not it was better to stop that conversation, but ended up not resisting. "But you're on our side, right? Stephen thinks that when we tell him, the Avengers will be against him. It's important to have at least one Avenger on our side. Someone who truly understands."

Nat sighed heavily, probably realizing the trouble she'd gotten herself into, but finally she smiled reassuringly. "I'm by your side."

...

You hated hospitals. Your nails continued to dig holes into your palms as you headed to the elevator of the huge, luxurious building to get to the obstetrics and gynecology floor, but it wasn't just the fact that hospitals made you feel sick that was making you anxious. In fact, you did yourself the bad favor of searching for Dr Palmer online during boring morning classes and found some photos of her and Stephen together at some events. You knew very well that Stephen worked at that hospital for years before his accident and that it was normal for him to have photos with his coworkers, but your anxious mind kept telling you that there was a compromising intimacy in those photos you saw.

You got out of the elevator in a kind of daze and observed the waiting room, which at that time was completely empty.

“Miss Y/l/n, right?” The secretary asked as you approached the counter. You smiled and nodded. You had been used to being recognized in places for a long time. It was the price you paid for being Iron Man's goddaughter.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Palmer."

"I need your ID for registration and we will need a photo for your record. Can you look at the camera, please?"

You did what the woman asked almost automatically, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

You waited for what seemed like an eternity as the woman typed.

"Ready." She informed you and you handed her the credit card, but instead of taking it she just smiled.  "It says here that the appointment has already been paid for. Your ID. Just wait a minute. She'll call you."

You rolled your lips together "Is it okay if I ask who paid for the appointment?"

She looked at the monitor looking equally curious. "Let's see... It says Dr. Strange. Oh, he used to work here, you know? I came to talk to him a few times. Brilliant doctor. Of course, now that he's a superhero he doesn't come to the hospital anymore."

"I'm sure the fact that he can't practice medicine anymore is the real reason." You answered.

"Ah of course. A tragedy!"

You just nodded with a polite smile and walked away, sitting in one of the many empty armchairs drumming your fingers on the arms of it and letting your mind do what it did best. Stephen was a neurosurgeon, what reason did he had to come to the gynecology floor often enough for the secretary to remember him? What if they were more than work friends? What if they still kept in touch? Stephen just said that she was a friend, but didn't give any more details, however he felt free to pay for your appointment  with his own card. What if he had told her everything about you?

“Miss Y/l/n?” A velvety voice called, and you faced the doctor in all her glory dressed in a ridiculous pink coat, but it didn't make her any less beautiful for that. "Come in, please."

You entered the huge office that had plaques and awards with her name on shelves as if they were trophies.

"Before we begin, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Dr. Christine Palmer."

You smiled politely "Y/n Y/l/n."

"Tony Stark's daughter." She said with a kind of reverence in her voice.

"Goddaughter, actually. But I don't think there's much of a difference." You corrected it.

She smiles, showing annoyingly perfect teeth. "Stephen told me about you. He called me personally to ask for the appointment, given his insistence should I assume something is wrong, miss Y/l/n?"

"Please, call me Y/n." You said feeling yourself blush. You had no idea how to start and the fact that this woman knew Stephen didn't help matters."

"I saw some pictures of you and Doctor Strange, are you friends?" You asked, scaping from the initial and most important question.

She seemed slightly confused by the question, but replied simply "Stephen and I are work friends, well we were work friends. I hadn't seen him in ages, in fact I was surprised when he called me."

You agreed "There's nothing wrong. I actually need a method of contraception." You exhaled slowly and finished speaking at once, "I'm a virgin and I intend to stop being so."

She nodded, keeping her expression professional, but you knew her head was working on the connection between what you just said and the fact that Stephen was so insistent that the appointment be as quick as possible, in addition to the fact that he paid for the appointment. For you, at least, the truth was almost obscene.

"I see. Well, there is a huge variety of methods. Pills are the most common, but I personally really like Implants.

"What is the most effective method?" You asked apprehensively.

She smiled, seeming to notice your hesitation and continued. "The pill requires an almost religious commitment. It must be taken every day at the same time and cannot be forgotten. For this reason, I usually recommend the implant. Furthermore, it is one of the methods that least affects your libido and since you just explained that you want to start your sex life now, I imagine this is an important aspect for choosing."

You nodded feeling like your face was on fire and she continued to pretend not to notice.

"It lasts for 3 years and can be reapplied after that and as there is no danger of forgetting like the pill, its effectiveness is usually 99.9%"

"Does it hurt?"

"It's a simple procedure and we use local anesthesia. It can be done today if you prefer."

You swallow thickly. "After I put it on, how long will it take before I can..." You let the words trail off in the air.

"It depends on when your last period was, but in general it is preferable to wait 10 to 15 days to be sure. Remembering that this does not mean that you cannot have sex before this period, but you need to use condoms."

You nodded. "Does it have side effects?"

"It is common for women to stop menstruating when using it, but it is also common to have breakthrough bleeding. In general, menstruation will be very irregular until your body gets used to it. The good news is that it tends to greatly reduce the effects of PMS."

You nodded. "Can we put it on now?"

"Sure." She said, getting up and going to one of the huge closets in the office.

When returning home in the taxi you could feel your arm slightly numb due to the anesthesia and the small bandage, as small as it was, was quite visible and you were going crazy thinking about what to say in case someone noticed.

Luckily when you entered the tower you didn't bump into anyone on the way to your room and after closing the door you threw yourself on the bed and called MJ, after all you owed her an update and there was indeed a lot to tell.

...

Stephen checked his cell phone every five minutes waiting for news, but every time he was disappointed. To make matters worse for him, the day was being particularly slow and he would rather be dealing with some interdimensional beast than facing that anxiety alone. He was particularly worried about the fact that he hadn't explained to Y/n that he and Christine had an affair years ago and being as smart as she was it was clear to him that it wouldn't take long for her to find out. That's if she hadn't already discovered it. God, he looked like a teenager experiencing his first love. What was Y/n doing to him?

He was in the Kamar Taj library doing the worst, most boring job in the world when America came running in looking for him.

"You won't believe what I almost managed to do!"  The enthusiasm in her voice made him bite back a snarky comment.

"I hope it's better than spending the whole afternoon cataloging books."

"So much better. I almost managed to conjure the mirrored dimension. I could even hear and see the glass breaking, but I couldn't maintain focus for long enough. Master Hamir said it's normal and that I have to keep trying."

"And he's right." Stephen said, putting the last book on the shelf and closing the ledger. He placed it in the librarian's desk drawer and checked his cell phone again. Nothing.

"Something wrong?" America asked and he shook his head.

"I hope not. Come here, I'm proud of you, kid."

America walked over and he wrapped his arms around her. It was a strange sensation. Letting someone get close to him like that after so long running away from any relationship with another person, however since America arrived, she started to soften his heart and Y/n was doing much more than that.

"Uh Stephen... you can let me go now."

"Oh ok." He said a little sheepishly and released the grip of his arms around her. America stepped away looking at the Sorcerer Supreme's book collection.

"Oh they are so mysterious. I would die to read one of those." She exclaimed!

"You wouldn't read them if you were dead."

She looked at him rolling her eyes "Have you read them yet?"

"Sometimes."

"So, I don't need to be a Sorcerer Supreme to be able to read them?"

"No. You just need to be smarter than I was when I read them and not cause problems."

She smiles "I think I can do that."

Stephen was ready to tell her it was easier said than done when they heard footsteps approaching in the hallway.

"Strange, are you done working here?" Wong asked, looking at them with a look that clearly said 'shouldn't you be doing something useful?'".

"Yep. By the way I'm heading back to Sanctum to check if everything's okay. Are you coming with me?" He asked America to which she grimaced.

"I still have one more class."

He nodded, taking his sling ring from his pocket and opening a portal home.

"See you tomorrow then."

...

It was past 10pm and you and Stephen were texting like two teenagers and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound of your giggles as you read each of his texts. He was so silly and cute and dirty and funny and so many other things that you had no way of knowing before you actually got to know him. Yes, he was a powerful sorcerer and a famous superhero, but when he talked to you, he was just Stephen and you felt yourself falling more and more in love with him with each passing minute.

I WANTED YOU WERE HERE

You suddenly confessed to which he texted back immediately.

YOU KNOW I CAN FIX THAT, RIGHT?

You bit your bottom lip, sitting up in bed immediately. Were he serious?

WOULDN'T IT BE VERY INAPPROPRIATE?

He answered with an emoji smiling sideways exactly like he used to do and just thinking about that smile made you simply abandon your reason. You got up and locked the door and took a look in the mirror. You were reasonably presentable. Fresh from the shower, comfortable lingerie covered by an old tee, hair tied in a messy bun. You smile at your image in the mirror and throw yourself on the bed, picking up your cell phone and answering.

I’M WAITING.

It didn't take a full minute before you heard the familiar hiss of the portal and Stephen walked past it with a smirk on his lips. He was dressed in sweatpants and a tee and his hair was wet and the smell of cologne made it possible to tell that he had also just gotten out of the shower.

"We can't make any noise. Tony and Pepper's room is next door." You whispered.

His smirk widened into a cocky grin. "I can fix that too." He whispered back.

"Yeah? How?"

He moved his hands in a complicated gesture and the walls were enveloped by a kind of ring of golden light that soon dissipated completely.

"Totally soundproof." He informed proudly. “Very useful spell.”

"That was sexy." You smiled, getting up and going to him. Stephen wrapped you in his arms containing your sudden advance and held your face gently directing you to his lips and kissed you slowly, but devilishly good and you felt your knees getting weak.

"I've missed you all day." He confessed as he finally allowed his lips to part to breathe. "I don't care how this sounds, Y/n, but I really don't know how I managed to spend so much time loving you from afar. I don't want to be away from you anymore. Never."

You didn't have time to formulate an answer because he pulled you to his lips again and this time he tightened his grip around your body and you could feel every muscle beneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt and the inviting heat coming from his skin.

"I've missed you all day too." You confessed, holding his hand and pulling him to your bed. You sat crisscrossed against the headboard and he sat facing you, but he stole one of your pillows and lay down next to you with the same naturalness as someone who always did that.

"But you kept me waiting for a text all day." He complained.

"Because I was a little mad at you and I didn't know what to say."

He sighed, "I knew I should have talked about Christine with you, but Sweetheart it was years ago, I swear I didn't think it was important enough to mention."

You ran your tongue along the corner of your cheek. "I knew there was something in those photos. MJ kept telling me I was being paranoid, but I'm never wrong."

Stephen buried his face in the pillow groaning, "That wasn't what you were mad about, was it?"

"No, but thanks for adding another reason."

He looked at you trying to be serious, but there was an arrogant smile on his lips. "I've always wanted to know what you're like when you're jealous."

"I am not jealous!" You defended yourself taking one of the pillows that were next to you and throwing at him. "I just think you have no idea how uncomfortable it was for me to be there talking to your ex about losing my virginity and choosing contraceptive methods when you made a point of making everything so obvious by insisting that the appointment was scheduled as soon as possible and the worst part, you paid for it."

"It was the very least I could do. You went there because of me." He defended himself.

"That’s not true. I went there because of me and Stephen, don't make me talk about a topic I don't feel comfortable talking about."

He said nothing, instead he continued looking at you waiting for you to speak.

"I don't need you to pay me anything. I'm Tony Stark's goddaughter!"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not about the money..."

He stopped and took a deep breath and then began to explain himself. "Y/n, you're half my age, less than that. You're a virgin, which scared me a little, I confess, but it also makes me feel protective towards you. I wanted you to have the best doctor in the city, probably in the country and I was anxious for us to resolve this as soon as possible and I didn't stop to think for a second about my past with Christine because it didn't mean anything to me. She was a friend I had sex with at work, that's all."

You opened your mouth to interrupt him several times, but ended up giving in. Deep down you knew you were being dramatic.

"She is very beautiful." You said with a pout.

"No more than you." He responded, opening his arms so you could cuddle into his chest. You lid down letting yourself be hugged as you became aware that Stephen was really in your room at that time of night. It was wrong somehow, even though you were an adult, the secret made everything feel so dirty, but you couldn't deny to yourself that you were enjoying the feeling.

You held Stephen's face in your hands and kissed him hard like you wanted from the moment he arrived and he let out a soft moan on your lips that made your heart jump in your chest.

"Now tell me about the appointment." He asked when you finally broke the kiss.

You told all the details of the most awkward medical appointment of your life and each time you brought new information you felt your face getting hotter.

"It's just a little sore now." You said as he ran his index finger lightly over the band aid you placed on your forearm.

"Well, I also have something to show you." He said moving the fingers of one hand and conjuring a sealed envelope. He handed it to you with a somewhat shy smile that was unusual for him, but equally beautiful.

"What is this?" You asked curiously.

"Open it."

You opened it and only after finding his name in the top right corner of the sheet did you understood.

The laboratory exam had a list of tests that were carried out to detect herpes, syphilis, hepatitis, HIV, among others and at the end of the sheet there was a single line that said: negative for the pathologies tested.

He waited silently for some kind of response, but all you could think was that you didn't need that. His words were enough for you.

"When did you take these tests?"

"Yesterday."

You handed the sheet back to him and kissed him softly "I believed you when you said you haven't had anyone in the last six months. You didn't need to..."

"But I wanted to. It's important to me that you know I'm clean. It's the least I could do since you..."

You waited for him to finish, but he just smiled.

“Since I…” You pressed.

"Since you're giving yourself to me."

You smirked at his choice of words.

"Is that what I'm doing?"

He held your chin steady and bit your bottom lip to tease you.

"You know very well what you are doing, young lady, and you know very well how much I am looking forward to it."

You nodded, but pouted "Your ex said we should wait at least 10 days..."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't call her that. It's not fair."

You let out a soft giggle "Fair enough, but it doesn't change what she said."

He kissed you softly and ran his index finger down your neck, down to your breast and circled your nipple until it got hard under your shirt.

"I’m a patient man." He said in the most anti-climax statement you could imagine.

"Well, but I’m not a patient woman. I'm so tired of waiting, Stephen. I've already waited too long." You grumbled, crossing your arms like a child indignant at being denied their favorite toy.

"For someone who have waited until now, you are very impatient indeed." He teased.

"For someone who hasn't had sex in six months, you're really slow."  You replied to which he let out a small laugh, but then he held your face in his hands and kissed you hard with tongue, teeth and a newfound passion that literally took your breath away.

"Just because I was trying to play nice, but now I think you've changed my mind. Now I’m going to take advantage of your inexperience. What do you say, sweetheart?"

You bit your lower lip, feeling your cheeks heat up, but you didn't let yourself be intimidated by your shyness. "Yes."

Stephen's eyes darkened with desire and a sly smile played on his lips. "Yeah? You don't even know what I have in mind and you're already saying yes."

You nodded "I trust you."

"But you shouldn't." He kissed you and pushed you onto your back and came on top of you, spreading your legs with his knees and fitting himself between them. He made a point of rubbing his hips against your core, making you feel his half-hard cock contained inside his pants. Unable to control yourself you let out a small moan and he chuckled in your ear making your skin prickle.

"You have no idea how much I want to make love to you finally. I've already waited too long..."

He kissed you again and ground himself against you without any shame and this time you didn't even try to contain your moan as your body responded to the stimulation with a wave of pleasure.

“Stephen…” You mumbled almost incoherently.

"Yes, sweetie. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me. I need you to touch me. I always imagined what it would be like to have your hands on me, your fingers..."

He smirked taking his hands under your t-shirt and grabbing your panties.

"You’re sure?" He confirmed and you nodded, raising your hips for him to take off your panties and your whole body shivered with the night air when he did so.

He lifted your t-shirt to waist level and finally allowed himself to look at your naked body, his hands slid up your legs and before you could understand what he was doing he started placing little kisses on the inside of your thighs and the brush of his goatee against your skin made your entire body prickle.

"Your skin is so soft and smells so good."  He praised, moving his lips in small wet kisses down your crotch and getting more and more dangerously close to where you really wanted him. "I imagined myself doing this so many times..."

"Stephen...please." You wonder if you knew what you were begging for. You just knew you didn't want him to stop, you just wanted much more."

But he stopped, at least long enough to give you a smug look and put his middle finger to his mouth. He sucked his own finger and then took it between your legs, opened your folds with his other fingers and touched your clit lightly, but enough to make your entire body tremble with the sensation.  He slid his finger up and down between your folds with absurd ease and you realized that you were shamefully wet and of course he noticed that too.

"Fuck sweetheart, is this all because of me?" He teased, moving his finger in circles on your clit and making your hips buck against his hand. "So sensitive. I've barely touched you yet."

You bit your lip trying to hold back a moan, but it escaped your lips anyway.

"It's okay, I like listening to you, love." He cooed encouraging you. "I'm going to try something else and you're going to tell me how you feel about it, okay?"

You nodded watching him dive between your legs. He licked you from bottom to top and then used his fingers to spread your folds and then licked again directly on your clit this time and you moaned outrageously loud. No words were necessary.

He hummed pleased with your reaction and gave it a long lick again and then began to flick the tip of his tongue on your clit sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. The touch of his beard on your sensitive skin increased all the sensations even more.

"Fuck Stephen... oh my..." You stopped biting your lip and grabbing his hair with one of your hands without realizing what you were doing, but he didn't seem to mind.

You always heard about how good oral sex was, but you never imagined it felt this good and at the same time you were a mess of sensations and feelings because you had never been touched by a man before and not just any man was doing, it was Stephen, your Stephen and the realization of that brought you surprisingly close to cumming and you found yourself desperate to warn him because... wouldn't it be rude if you came in his face?

"Stephen, I think I'm gonna..."

But he stopped immediately upon hearing those words and emerged to look at you with the most beautiful and naughty smile in the world.

"You're very sensitive, sweetheart. I've barely started." He said, running a hand over his face.

"I didn't want to... in your face." You confessed and he smiled sweetly at you.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I'd love it if you did."

"But isn't it gross?" You asked, still unsure, to which he shook his head. "I like it."

You felt yourself blushing "But you stopped."

He smirked "Just because I don't want it to end so quickly. Sex shouldn't be a quick thing, at least not most of the time, we should make it last and that means lessening the stimulation before finishing." He moved so he could kiss you and you found the taste on his tongue strange, but at the same time you found it sexy knowing that it was your taste. "We're just getting started." He whispered against your lips as he brought your index finger back to his lips, he sucked on it and then brought it between your legs and teased your entrance lightly.

"Tell me, when you touch yourself, do you only play with your clit or..." He forced your entrance slightly and you felt your muscles contracting involuntarily.

"You never used your fingers here?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Okay, but I can try a little, can't I? Or do you want me to stop?"

You held his face in your hands.

"Will it hurt?"

He kissed your lips gently, "Not if I do it slowly. And I won't go deep. You just said you trust me, remember?"

You nodded. "I do."

He smiled and you felt a small pressure at your entrance and you immediately squeezed your eyes closed waiting for the pain, but it didn't come, on the contrary you were washed by a wave of pleasure when he started to use his thumb on your clit as he slowly penetrated the middle finger on you.

"Shit." You cursed through your teeth and he chuckled in satisfaction.

"Good girl."

He started to move his finger in and out and the feeling was strange but good at the same time and the next thing you knew you were moving your hips against his hand seeking more friction. He understood immediately and began to put more pressure on his thumb, circling your clit slowly while fingering you.

"I'm going to put another finger, okay? Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop immediately."

You nodded without doubting his word for a moment. You knew Stephen would never hurt you on purpose.

He used his index finger to stretch you a little more and you felt the pressure again and an uncomfortable tug that soon disappeared giving way to pleasure.

"God, you have magical fingers." You heard yourself confessing.

"That's one way of putting it." He teased "But you haven't seen anything yet, sweetheart."

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan when he circled his thumb around your clit just the right way and your legs shook with the wave of pleasure that enveloped you.

"Then show me. I want you to teach me everything."

He smiled brightly and pulled you to his lips and kissed you hard, his tongue chased yours in a battle for dominance that you had no intention of winning and he hummed in your lips adorably.

"You're every man's dream, you know that?" He said as he finally allowed himself to break the kiss. "Beautiful, inexperienced and so willing to please. Somehow you make my heart beat faster in my chest and my dick throb in my pants with the same intensity at the same time."

You smiled proudly "Then take me. I'm yours. I always wanted to be yours and no one else's."

You entwined your fingers in his hair and pulled him to your lips again, but his lips didn't just stop at your mouth, they went down your neck where he placed little kisses and bites and then went up to your ear, brushing his goatee there and making your skin prickle again and you swallow thickly. You loved when he did that and he sure as hell knew that.

"Stephen... make love to me. I want it... tonight."

His fingers didn't stop stimulating you for a second, but you wanted more, you wanted to know how it would feel to have him inside you thrusting into you with the same passion you saw the actors in the movies doing, but he shook his head.

"We can't, love."

You shook your head trying to reason with him "We can. We just need to use..."

He interrupted you by kissing you and then explained "I know, but I don't want our first time to be with a condom. It's not the same."

"Oh" That's all you said, and he smiled seeming a little embarrassed "It doesn't change much for you, but for me... shit, now I'm being selfish..."

"It's okay." You reassured him cupping his face gently "I didn’t know. We can wait."

He sighed smiling "But that doesn't mean I can't give you what you need." With that he dived between your legs again and used his tongue on your clit again, but now he wasn't content with just licking, he started sucking as if he was nursing on your sensitive bud and while he did this his fingers continued playing at your entrance, moving in and out at a lazy pace and the combination of stimulation was enough to push you to the edge.

"Oh shit... oh Stephen... gonna cum."

He hummed satisfied and this time he didn't stop, on the contrary, he increased the intensity of the suction on your clit which made you scream in the middle of the orgasm that washed over you.

Your legs shook around his head, your nails dug into his scalp and your fingers pulled his hair and the most beautiful little scream in the world escaped your lips when you came in his mouth. He lapped up all your fluids like a thirsty man and then emerged from the paradise between your legs to look at you and the way you glanced at him made his heart jump in his chest.

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he had given oral sex to a woman. A sexist part of him thought it was too intimate to be done with any of the women he had slept with in recent years, but with you it was natural. It wasn't like he planned it. Stephen was coming to the conclusion that nothing with you happened as planned, you were too spontaneous for that and he was weak in his convictions when it came to you, but it didn't matter, he had loved it, every second between your legs, listening to your little moans were like a trip to paradise and he felt ecstatic.

He moved on top of you, careful not to release the weight of his body on you and cupped your face, pulling it to his lips.

"God I love you, sweetheart."  He heard himself confessing. Stephen had never been so in love in his entire life and as such he never found himself confessing his feelings like that, but it was true. He loved you so much that somehow he knew he couldn't contain it inside him, he needed to pour that love into you again and again.

As if you could read his mind, you smiled the most beautiful smile in the world "I love you too." You whispered and your face turned red with the realization of what had just happened and he thought it was adorable. Yes, he had been surprised by the discovery of your virginity and yes, that had complicated things a little, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn't loving every minute of it. Your innocence and inexperience made everything more exciting.

"I love the way you blush."  He confessed, kissing your lips lightly and then rolled to the side, resting his head on his pillows.

"That's good because I can't control this. It's all so embarrassing, will this become normal for me one day?"

He couldn't help but laugh at your comment.

"Do not laugh at me." You protested, covering your face with your hands, but Stephen held them and replied, "I'm not laughing at you and the answer is yes. It'll become normal."

You turned to snuggle into him and he wrapped his arm around you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder as he intertwined your leg with his.

"Do you remember your first time?" You asked as your fingers traced his goatee absently minded.

Oh yes, he remembered it perfectly and never stopped feeling embarrassed by it.

"Tragically yes." He replied.

"That bad?" You asked curiously.

"I had no idea what I was doing, and it must have lasted three minutes."

Now it was your turn to laugh, but he didn't care, he had already overcome the trauma.

"I was always afraid of doing it with someone my age and ending up in an awkward situation where we both wouldn't know what to do." You confessed, still stroking his beard and Stephen noticed how much he liked feeling the touch of your hands on him.

"I think it's very difficult for a guy your age to still be a virgin, sweetheart. The risk was practically zero."

"But they wouldn't be like you." You insisted and your face flushed again "You're very experienced and although I don't like thinking about you with other women, I like the fact that you know what you're doing, it makes me feel safer."

He nodded. What impressed Stephen, besides the fact that you were a virgin at age 21, was that you had almost no sexual experience besides watching porn and touching yourself.

"You made me feel very safe while you were..."

"Going down on you" He finished for you and you nodded.

"I didn't imagine it would be so good. I mean, I've read about it, I've seen it in the movies, but nothing prepared me for reality."

Stephen smiled broadly. "I'm not going to be modest about it and say it's always like this. Most men have a hard time satisfying a woman this way."

"But not you." You said and pulled him to your lips and Stephen let himself be guided by the intensity of your kiss. So inexperienced, but kissed like a whore. He thought and quickly scolded himself.

You hummed adorably at his lips and then broke the kiss and said simply "I want to touch you now."

His cock pulsed in his pants at that, but he tried hard to reason with you.

"Are you sure? You know you don't have to do this just because I did it to you."

You nodded "I know. I want to. I want to see you the same way you saw me and pleasure you to hear you moaning too."

Stephen couldn't help but smile and comment, "You're going to have to be really good to make me moan, sweetheart. Do you think you can do that?"

You blushed heavily but were firm in your response "I learn fast, you just need to teach me how to do it."

Another twitch in his cock and this time it didn't go unnoticed by you. You lowered your hand that was resting on his chest and touched his dick through his pants.

"It's so... hard." You said

"Because of you. Your innocence leaves me like this." He confessed.

"I'm not innocent." You protested to which he chuckled.

"Maybe not in other things, but in this you are."

His cock started to throb again and you looked at him in surprise, but didn't say anything. It was as if you knew that asking anything would prove his point.

"Hard is good. It's exactly how you want me. And this..." His cock twitched again "It's also because of you, it shows how much I want you."

You were blushing, but a proud smile played on your lips.

He watched you move your hand lightly over his erection and then your fingers threatened to go inside his pants, but you stopped confirming "Can I?"

"Yes." He said and his voice sounded shaky with excitement. Stephen had fantasized about this so many times.

You put your hand inside his pants and seemed surprised to notice that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He never wore underwear when he got dressed to sleep, in fact when it was hot he even wore clothes to sleep.  To his surprise, the brief moment of hesitation was replaced by the impulse to touch him, and you grabbed him in your hand and started moving up and down, probably imitating what you had seen in the movies. The sudden stimulation made a small moan escape his lips and you smiled victoriously.

"Brat" He said biting his lower lip and surrendering to your touch. "Wait, let me take this off, you need to see what you're doing."

You moved your hand away enough for him to free himself from his pants and then your eyes feasted on his thighs and finally settled on his cock.

"You can touch me however you want now." He said

You held it firmly in your hand and moved it up and down slowly and he had the feeling that that was pretty much all you knew how to do. The stimulation was delicious. For someone who had had no sexual stimulation other than his own hand for six months, any foreign touch was enough, but he wanted just so much more.

He moved his fingers quickly conjuring up a bottle of lube and explained "Here, sweetheart. You lube naturally, but I need this. Give me your hand."

You turned your palm upwards and waited for him to pour some of the clear gel. He was not modest in quantity. Stephen liked a lot of lubrication.

"Now you can do what you were doing, but it will feel much better."

You nodded, grabbing his cock again and slowly moving it up and down, letting the lube spread over his entire length making a delicious squelching sound.

"Make sure to touch the head when your hand goes up. Here..." He showed his frenulum to you "It's very sensitive, I like it when I'm touched here."

You nodded, completely concentrated on his explanation and started to raise your hand further to touch where he had shown you, a wrinkle of concentration formed between your eyebrows and Stephen found it adorable. His cock throbbed in your hand again and a loud moan escaped through his teeth.

"Shit, love. You’re a fast learner."

You smiled happily at the compliment "Can I use both hands? I saw it in a movie and the guy seemed to like it."

Stephen nodded. "Give me the other hand, let's get some more of this."

You did as he asked and then grabbed him with both hands stroking him nice but very lightly.

"You can use a little more force, sweetheart." He instructed and his voice sounded shaky.

"I don't want to hurt you. I know it’s very sensitive."

He smiled widely. You were so sweet, he was basking in your inexperience and there was no reason for him to hide how much he was enjoying the whole thing.

"Not that sensitive. You can squeeze a little more. I'll like it. Isn't that what you want? To make me feel good?"

"Yes." You said biting your bottom lip while tightening the grip of your hand around him and for a minute the only sound that could be heard was the wet squelching of your hands on his dick and the heavy breathing followed by moans that he couldn't control. .

"So fucking good... these little hands feel amazing, sweetheart."

You smile "Really?"

"So, so good. I've fantasized about this moment so many times..."

You bit your lip, looking undecided whether to say something or not.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Is it okay if I put it in my mouth? I've never done this, but I'd like to try."

Stephen moaned loudly "Wanna give me a blow job?"

You nodded. "But I do not know how..."

He moaned loudly and his hips jumped against your hand. At that point, Stephen didn't know if he would last long.

He cupped your cheek gently and ran his thumb across your lips, forcing you to separate them. "Open it for me." He asked, placing his thumb inside your mouth when you obeyed. He left his finger on your tongue collecting saliva and forcing you to swallow around it and when you did he closed his eyes and imagined the feeling of it around his dick.

"Suck it." He ordered and you obeyed, sucking his finger slowly.  You were so good at following orders, so sweet and so obedient. Something about it all was revealing a side of Stephen that even he didn't know and he was enjoying it.

"See how easy it is? Now let's try to do the same thing but on my cock." He took his finger out of your mouth and grabbed his dick and directed it to your mouth.

"Open it big for me." He asked and you did exactly as he said.

Stephen smiled, placing just the head in your mouth. "You're going to suck it like it's a lollipop. Don't use your teeth, just your lips and tongue."

You seemed lost at first, the sweet taste of the lube wasn't exactly ideal, but it was better than saliva, at least at first. Deep down he was dreaming of seeing you going dirty, spitting on his cock without fear of making a mess.

A wrinkle of confusion appeared between your eyebrows, but you continued sucking his head slowly.

"Now use your tongue, you can flick it around my cock, it feels really nice."

You did exactly as he asked, eliciting a surprised groan from his throat when the tip of your tongue flicked onto his frenulum. "Shit, you learn so fast, sweetheart."

You took it out of your mouth to breathe and smiled proudly at him as he couldn't help but tease you. "You like being praised, don't you? Does it make you feel good?"

To his delight you blushed heavily making his cock pulse in your hand.

"See? That's how much I want you. Because you are so fucking special to me..."

He was interrupted when you leaned in to give him a hard kiss that took his breath away and then you put his cock in your mouth again and without him needing to teach you, you started using your hand around what you couldn't take and Stephen grabbed the sheets with one hand while he brought the other to your head, threading his fingers through your hair. You let out a sweet moan of approval around his cock and he had to control himself not to push your head or thrust against your mouth. Stephen liked to be rough when given oral, most of the time he forced deep throat because he loved cumming deep in their throats, but he could never do that to you. At least not yet and definitely not without your consent.

"Fuck... twist your hand while you move it up and down, sweetheart and keep using your tongue, give me a hard suck on the head... just like that... yeah, use your tongue just like that."

You followed each of his instructions masterfully which was quickly taking him to his limit and when he noticed how you started to moan while sucking him, how your legs started to rub against each other, clearly feeling pleasure while giving him pleasure, he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.

"Wait, sweetheart... stop, please." He moved his hand down to your chin and gently pulled your mouth away from his dick.

You seemed a little confused "Why? I thought I was enjoying it. Did I do something wrong?"

He chuckled nervously "I was, I am...very much." He ran say a little embarrassed. "I don't want to finish in your mouth. It's your first time and it might be a little gross." 

He saw the realization on your face immediately and then you stared at his cock with a newfound curiosity.

"What does it taste like?"

Stephen smiled "To be honest, I don't know. It's salty. Most women don't like it."

You frowned, "I'm not most women."

"Of course not. You're my sweetheart." He said and watched you blush again. He would never get tired of it.

You went back to holding his cock, stroking it lightly up and down, being careful to touch the head as he explained and watched him twitching.

"I want to see you finish." You confessed.

He nodded "Just use your hands then."

"But will they be enough?" You asked increasing your grip again while stroking his cock.

Stephen groaned through his teeth.

"Of course. These sweet tiny hands are more than enough."

You smiled watching Stephen surrender completely to your touch. You were learning a lot that night and one of the things you enjoyed most was the sweet noises he made when he felt pleasure. It was hard to imagine such a stoic man making those sounds and your chest filled with pride knowing that you were responsible for leaving him like that.

He kept one hand firmly on the sheets and the other found a home on the back of your neck. His eyes were glued to yours, his cock was so hard and red and wet pulsing in your hand. You didn't stop or reduce the stimulation, remembering perfectly what he had explained to you. You wanted to see him finish.

"Oh, fuck sweetheart... I'm so close... just do it faster and don't stop." His baritone voice was even sexier when covered in lust like that.

"I won't stop" You promised moving your hands faster and harder and finally getting what you wanted. Seeing the magic happening before your eyes.

He moaned loudly, his jaw became rigid, his legs shook and cum began to squirt from the tip of his dick, spilling over your hand, entering between your fingers and making a mess in his stomach.

"Oh shit... oh fuck sweetheart." He muttered through clenched teeth and then pulled you to his lips and kissed you hard.

You kissed until you couldn't breathe and when he broke the kiss he smiled almost shyly.

"Shit, look at this. I made a fucking mess, sweetie."

"You get a dirty mouth when you're horny." You teased and he let out a small laugh.

"Good point. Does it bother you?"

You shook your head "No. Actually, I liked it." You said, observing the puddle of cum on his stomach and then looked at your hand, seeing the sticky, whitish liquid running through your fingers. You could smell it, it wasn't bad, it was just different and suddenly you were struck by a burning curiosity and the next thing you knew you were bringing your hand to your mouth and running your tongue between your fingers. You didn't know the look on your face when you tasted it, but Stephen smiled in disbelief, and you knew he was loving it just like he had loved everything else.

"It's salty and something else. It's not good, but it's not bad either. It's... strange."

"I don't think there's a better word to describe it." He teased moving his fingers and conjuring a damp towel with which he began to gently wipe your hands.

"It's the first time I've seen a woman taste my cum like it was a foreign dessert and I admit it was sexy as hell."

You felt your face getting hot which made his smile widen even more. He used the towel to clean himself and then got rid of it in the same way he conjured it and touched your cheek affectionately. "You're giving me so many firsts." He said contemplatively and then kissed you again. He pulled you on top of him and made you snuggle into his chest. With a flick of his fingers he dressed you and he and you laugh softly.

"I'll never get used to this."

He hummed "Yes you will because I will do this all the time and I will be by your side all the time.”

"Promise?"

He kissed the top of your head and held you in his arms.

"Promise."

You were silent for a minute listening to nothing but each other's breathing. It was you who broke the silence.

"Don't you think this is all very silly for you? I mean, we're together and we haven't even had sex yet and you're an experienced man..."

"There's only so many times you can say that to me without making me feel old." He warned making you laugh softly.

"I like my men older." You teased.

"Man. Your man you mean."

You smirked "Yes, sir."

Stephen sighed and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his hand rubbing your arm.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm loving every minute we spend together, sweetheart. You're making me live so many new experiences and I love you for that. There's nothing silly about this."

You smiled "Okay."

"There's just one problem, young lady."

You turned to look at him and there was a cute smile on his lips.

“Which is?”

"I want to come here every night from now on."

"I won't object to that."

He smirked and you rolled to the side on the bed and he was quick to pull you close so you were cuddled into his chest.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[mewtillidae]

with imposter1998 finally over after a short accidental but much needed hiatus, let me just say uh, FUCKING THANK YOU? LIKE WOW? i did not expect you guys to participate and theorize and interact as much as you did, quite frankly i think you guys put more thought into this objectively silly idea than i did lmao

never before in all my internet years have i encountered such a fun, sweet, supportive online fandom. for imposter1998 and for daily kremy as a whole, the support i got from the many like-minded nerds on here was crazy. the tags and comments were plentiful and inconceivably kind, there was daily kremy FANART, @papa-goose-ollie got the whadda hell is a grapefruit one printed on a fucking MUG. shits crazy. but like truly everything about this has been awesome and i dont think i could thank each and every one of you enough :)

however, i think daily kremy ends here for now. made it to 150, i think thats respectable, but yknowwwww interests change and whatnot. however, you can guarantee I'll be back once new eps come out!

anyway enough sap do you guys wanna laugh at me for how horribly shambled together this whole game was behind the scenes (more under cut)

so this whole game was meant to last exactly 1 week, and conclude the day before Halloween. that sure didn't end up happening. probably because I "planned" this all over the course of like THREE DAYS. the extent of my planning was a single sheet of a4 paper and a barebones notes app doc

THE TYPOS WERENT INTENTIONAL. IT WAS SO FUNNY AND EMBARRASSING EVERYTIME SOMEONE MADE A COMMENT LIKE "Aha! Another typo! It's all coming together now guys!" LIKE NOOOO STOP LOOKING AT ME DONT PERCIEVE ME PLEASE😭😭😭😭 it was absolutely on me though, adding that tag mentioning them. it was supposed to be a joke at my own expense and people rightfully took it as a hint, oops <\3

all the puzzles were from my own noggin 👍 but very inspired by a few escape room boardgames like EXIT that I've played before. i also didnt know a solitaire cipher was even a thing. i thought i was being smart when the REAL smart thing to do would've been, uh, a singular google search.

and lastly, in the spirit of daily kremy, everything was made at like 2 am the day prior to posting and i totally winged it everytime. as in i had no clear idea what I'd write, just a bullet point to work off of. work ethic? never heard of her.

no comment on the ending! but you guys are super smart im sure you can have fun thinking abt it :)

[yesimwriting]

More than this

A/n the anakin appearance in ahsoka show got to me, that's all i can say

warnings: i didn't think too much about realistic timelines and i lowkey prioritized vibe over canon (as usual tbh), also written very quickly bc i'm supposed to be studying for a test so typos maybe? and maybe not great lol,, lowkey manipulative anakin but he's in his villain era so

Summary: Similar vibes as that force "facetime" thing with kylo and rey,, basically anakin 'facetiming' his not gf after killing off a bunch of younglings bc she's going through it and he's that committed

----

You're sick of it. Not of meetings or of political discourse or of trying to do the right thing for your people. You're sick of pretending like your entire way of life doesn't have an approaching expiration date.

The door to your bed chambers shuts with a groan loud enough to mask your irritated sigh. You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly you see stars before resting your forehead against the solid surface.

At least you're alone now. For now.

It won't be long before someone finds you. Another meeting or lesson or worst of all--another suitor. You don't want any of it. In fact, you might not ever want to speak to another person again.

"Not surprising."

You turn around too quickly, the back of your head hitting the door with a soft thump. Some combination of a shout and gasp tries to crawl up your throat but just as quickly the urge vanishes.

"Great..." He's standing at the other end of your room, confident like he has a right to be in your chambers. Like he's actually-- "I'm being driven to insanity."

He tilts his head slightly, expression revealing much too little. "I've told you." He takes a step forward. "I'm real."

At this point, he's given you several reasons to believe the stories he's told you. That the force he wields for whatever reason has chosen to connect the two of you. Considering what you've been briefed on regarding the current state of the Jedi, you might be better off if the stranger that keeps finding you does turn out to be a hallucination.

A question settles in your chest the way it often does when he appears. Now that you know about the rumored fall of the Jedi that has your father nervous and your advisors unsure, you're more wary of him than ever. How is he 'standing' here, perfectly fine?

You're not overly concerned about offending him. He's just someone that manipulates his abilities to pop in whenever you crave solitude most. But something at the back of your mind warns that you might not want the answer. Nothing good could come from any involvement of the Jedi in their current state.

"A hallucination would make the same argument," you whisper, voice drier than before. He takes another step in your direction. A mistake. You've made one by indicating nerves. "So..." Recovering quickly, you force your spine to straighten, "Why are you here this time?"

Casual and detached. That's how all of these forced rendezvous go. It's the safest. He insists on whatever point he's trying to make and you pretend to be too caught up in your annoyance to find any part of interesting until he eventually vanishes. Any stray in that could lead to a negative shift. Especially now.

"Are you not happy to see me?" You blink. He's made those types of comments before, a hint of humor touching his features enough to make you feel less on edge. But this time the words feel off, void of any warmth or surprising charisma.

Nerves twist themselves in your stomach. Whatever happened to the Jedi, whatever had all the members of your latest meeting on edge has effected him.

He's watching you, waiting for a reaction. You want out, but some instinct begs you to keep that hidden. A lifetime of being a royal daughter instead of a son has taught you that there's a certain safety that comes from playing unaware. "Not any more or less happy than usual."

That sounds normal, right? You've never been particularly nice to him, making it clear that you have no interest or time for whatever potential the force he's always talks about sees in the two of you as a pairing. But you're also not mean or flighty. "Okay, maybe a little less."

A small offering. You've done it before, revealing bits and pieces of your life to him because he has no part in your world. It doesn't matter what he knows and you've never had someone in your life in any capacity that you could just rant to, someone you could exist around without any pretext.

"And why is that?"

Another thing you didn't think through. The meeting that made you feel like a useless figurehead just waiting to be married off had revolved around the issues with the Jedi and what that means for your people.

"Some meetings today." That's a casual enough thing to admit. He normally assumes that's your issue. "Long meetings...so if you could just get to your point and disappear the way you usually do."

The corner of his mouth turns upwards. Normally, his partial smiles and signs of ease make you feel better about speaking to him. This look, however, only further knots your stomach. "Busy day."

"Yeah," you agree, nodding once, "Another one of my cousins have agreed to a proposed betrothal and that--that always starts discussions of when I'll finally do the same and--"

You're not sure where your rambling's going, you just know that this is something you complain about enough for it to seem normal. Besides, the best covers are based on the truth and what you're referencing is true enough. There was some discussion about a relative's impending marriage, but the rumors took over the meeting before anyone could try to convince your father to finally marry you off.

He takes another step towards the door and then another. The room is large enough that there's still an amount of distance between the two of you that's respectable, but that doesn't make it easier to dismiss that he's getting closer. At least your proximity to the door is comforting.

"You've never lied to me before."

The flutter of uncertainty in your stomach spikes, a brief wave of panic rendering you incapable of thinking. He's capable of just appearing in your room without actually being here, being able to tear apart your lie is nothing compared to that. But somehow him being able to tell where your truth begins and ends feels much more invasive than what you already knew about. You don't lie constantly, but for so long your ability to seem clueless has been your only form of self preservation.

You don't know what to do next. A part of you wants to fall back on habit, commit to your portrayal of not knowing. He'll see through it, there's no reason for him not to, but what else is there? Owning up to lying about the meeting will lead to a discussion of the actual meeting and that...

You're not sure why you're so convinced that ignorance is what you should be striving for. After all, everything you heard about the Jedi's current situation was unconfirmed, too recent and closed off to have reached even the top leader's of your home. But if it's true and he's really reaching out to you after such tragedy and acting casual in a way that makes it feel like you've never met him before.

You're also too aware of the fact that while you do feel the need to be alert, you're not afraid. This would be easier if you were. "How do you know that?"

Instead of sounding as closed off as you want to, genuine curiosity bleeds into the question.

"The same way we can see each other." Another step, this one less subtle. "I can teach you, if you'd like."

If he can tell when you're lying, there's not much point in saying no without a reason because despite yourself, you would like to know how. Who wouldn't? "I think I'm missing certain abilities."

His eyebrows draw together, and for a brief second you get a glimpse of something a little more familiar and a lot easier to accept. "I wouldn't be too sure."

Okay, now you know something's up with him. A breezy half-laugh escapes you. "Come on." Maybe that was his way of releasing some of the tension. His expression doesn't waiver. "Okay." If he wants to act strange, fine, but he's not going to convince you that you're like him in anyway. "What makes you say that?"

A beat passes and then another. If he had behaved like he usually does, you might have even considered the silence a sort of hesitation. "You're the one that reached out to me."

Another breathy, almost nervous laugh slips out. "Even if I had wanted to speak to you, I wouldn't have known how."

"You found a way."

There are only so many things you can believe from him. He's an invasive stranger that you've decided to accept in your life out of desperation for an outlet of escape. "That's impossible." He's closer now than you remember him being a second ago. That's almost enough to derail your train of thought. "The--the only thing I was thinking about was how much I wanted to be alone."

"You say that every time."

Pressing your lips together, you give yourself permission to let his words sink in. Every time you've seen him, it's after deciding that you want nothing to do with anyone ever again. "Then I guess you have impeccable timing."

He's so close now that you could extend an arm to touch him....if you wanted to. He angles his chin downwards slightly, "I can teach you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. His assistance is another thing that should scare you. You're not like him...you can't be and even if you were, it'd have to be a secret that you take with you to the grave. And even if you are, why does it matter to him? "Why?"

He's unfazed by your abrasive tone. "I can see it."

"There's nothing to s--"

"You want more than this." You swallow once in an attempt to get rid of whatever's lodged itself in your throat. Maybe there is no such thing as being able to be fully honest with anyone, no matter how disconnected from your life they may seem. "I can help you."

Some halfhearted correction tries to pry itself out of your mouth even though there's no point. "I don't--we don't even know each other." You keep your poster rigid. "I don't even know your name."

His lips part. Whatever response he was planning on giving you is cut off before he can even start by the quick knocking against your door. Your head initially snaps towards the door. "..Are you in there?" Another rush of soft knocks. "Your father's waiting for you, he wants to debrief the last meeting."

Your let your head fall forward again with an instinctual sigh. By the time your eyes settle where they were before, he's gone.

[mixelation]

i thought about replying to this post, but then decided it'd be better to make my own. tl;dr OP states that they don't mind a lot types of comments AO3 writers commonly complain about and then calls for writers to read their comments in good faith. i was going to just scroll by this as it seemed to be presented as "this is my personal preference," but then OP calls for more writers to share their feelings. so i thought it might help to explain why i personally don't like certain types of comments

first, OP brings up pointing out typos multiple times. i absolutely despise having typos pointed out, although personally i don't know any other writers who care too much. i delete comments that just point out typos with no other commentary, and the fact that i don't delete comments with actual comments AND a typo pointed out is mostly because the idea makes me feel bad for the commenter. my personal hatred for the typo comments is linked more to being bullied for being dyslexic than anything else, but i do think a list of typos with nothing else is a pretty rude comment, and it ties into why giving unsolicited "constructive criticism" is, imho, rude or at the very least largely annoying

a lot of people say unsolicited concrit is bad because "fic is free." this isn't the reason. it's still rude to personally contact a writer with your criticisms even if you paid for it (assuming you didn't, you know, commission it or otherwise have a right to give such feedback). it's because concrit is essentially useless unless the person providing it understands the goals of the writer and wants to help the writer to those goals. on ao3, the writer's goal might have been to write a little story in one sitting. it might have been to write something hyper self-indulgent and so niche that it makes no sense to any other human being. the writer's goal might not be anything that would necessitate concrit at all. and, no offense, but most "constructive criticism" from random people on the internet is just "you didn't write the story i personally wanted to read" rather than anything that has to do with the story itself. on top of that, when i give people stuff for spelling and grammar, a stunning percentage of the time, people make "corrections" which are simply unnecessary or flat out incorrect. you are not a copy editor, and unless the writer asked in their notes, they have not asked you to edit. don't do it.

also, when you point out typos, there's an implied assumption you expect the writer to fix them. otherwise, why point them out? and the writer has no obligation to do things for you

other types of comments in the post:

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ - I don't personally mind this one unless the tone is REALLY hostile to whatever ship (or trope, or character, or whatever). The reason why this one is often construed as rude is that the writer presumably is a fan of the ship, since they're writing about it. If you criticize other fics about the ship, then you might be criticizing things the author really enjoys. I think tone is a big factor here; this genre of comment can get way more hostile than OP's example.

‘looking forward to the next update’ / ‘I hope you update soon!’ - The wording of both of these is mild, but keep in mind writers with lots of fics have likely fielded a decent number of "update now you [slur]" comments. Also this is inappropriate to say on a fic marked completed (surprisingly common!). My experience on AO3 is that the really aggressive "update now!!" comments are fewer than they used to be and fewer than on FFN, but a lot of writers are still made tired by them. I'd suggest saying something more like "I'm excited to see where this goes" and make sure the fic isn't complete.

‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ - I don't think most writers would mind this one, actually. Usually writers like it when you ask them questions about their work. If I gave any commentary, I'd be a bit careful about tone again-- if you just write "why'd you do [x]" with nothing else, it could come off abrasive or like you think the choice was bad.

i do agree with OP's contention that one's experience as a writer on AO3 will improve if they engage comments in good faith. i disagree with the idea that reading in good faith means every type of comment below outright harassment is appropriate or not annoying. i do not think reading in good faith and just accepting anything anyone says to you are the same. i also don't really believe that writers complaining about annoying comments is creating a comment scarcity, mostly because i don't believe in the purported comment crisis everyone is upset about, and also because i know there were entire LJ communities dedicated to asshole comments. it's not really new.

[jellybeanium124]

woke up and the "DON'T POINT OUT MY TYPOS IT'S UNSOLICITED CRITIQUE YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE IF YOU DO THIS!!" people found my "mentioning typos in comments okay?" poll. and it's fascinating to me how, to me at least, these people's comments seem pretty entitled and rude, and also act like they're the majority opinion when the poll is currently 70-30 split the other way. like ok a decent chunk of people agree with you, but the clear majority does not! and maybe that's just how I'm reading their responses, and the fact that I'm in the 70% who thinks it's fine, but to me there is a clear tone difference in the responses of people who said no and people who said yes. there's like, a level of humility and openness to collaboration in the responses of the people who said yes, and there's this staunch pridefulness to the answers of people who said no.

and like, I think that makes sense, really, when you think about it. saying yes requires 1 ounce of humility. it's basically saying "I'm not perfect, and I will make typos." it also requires genuine care for their work. they want their fic to be good and they recognize they might not make it as good as they could be on their own.

considering a typo unsolicited crit is something that requires such a big ego imo! one person said "If it's posted, it's because I am done working on fixing it" and another compared getting a comment about a typo between positive things to getting shit in a sandwich. multiple people said it would be like receiving a hand-made gift and immediately finding something to criticize. multiple people said it's like pretending to be their english teacher, which you're not. another person said "#leaving critique in a comment even if you loved it is going WOW i read this thing you wrote and decided to share and all i noticed was#that you misspelled this word and thats all that matters really!"

let me break this down one at a time.

I'm done with the fic: so if you caught the typo while rereading your fic you wouldn't edit it away? maybe you don't reread your own fics but like for the sake of argument if you did and you found a typo you wouldn't edit it because you're done with the fic?

being told about a typo is like being handed shit to eat? isn't that a bit dramatic? I even said in the poll that it was a polite comment, just to be totally clear about what I mean. idk how a polite comment could be telling you to eat shit.

well, unless a fic is literally gifted to me, it's not a hand-made gift for me. I don't see fics as hand-made gifts for my followers. like yes, on the one hand, I am making you entertainment for free, and I expect readers to understand that and understand how that makes it different than a published novel, but I don't write for my readers (in general), I write because it's what I want to see in the world. second, a hand-made gift is you're handing over is something that it's too late to fix. inherent in the premise of my poll is the fact that the fic is something hosted online, not printed in a zine, and therefore is editable and fixable. if you make your friend a scarf and fuck up one of the stitches, that's just gonna be how it is for all time, and your friend totally would be an asshole for immediately pointing that out. but fics online don't have to have typos forever. the commenter is trying to help you so you don't have a typo in there forever. other people pointed this out in the tags of my poll. one person mentioned being a comics writer and being glad that people caught typos before their comics went to print. ao3 is forever man. that's what an archive is for.

you are conferring a maliciousness onto english teachers that fascinates me. now, yes, some teachers can be malicious, but in general, they are not. english teachers didn't criticize your essays in school because they wanted to upset you (again, barring unique circumstances where your english teacher really was an asshole out to get you, idk your specific past), they were criticizing to help you become a better writer. now, yes, it is an english teacher's job to criticize the essays you handed in, and none of us random readers have the job of pointing out typos to you, but we're theoretically doing it for the same reason. to help. we just want to help your fic be the best it can.

the last comment really gets to the root of the problem, I think. that people who feel this way feel personally attacked by something as small as "hey you wrote helo instead of hello" or something. the people who feel this way take this stuff very seriously, and, like, idk man, I think maybe you should work on that? I've gotten actual mean comments on fics (and maybe they have too, again I don't know everything about your life). comments about how izzy is out of character or the moral I wrote is terrible and I'm probably being abused if I think this way or ed is a complete entitled asshole in this fic and expects izzy to apologize to him??? (if you know me and the our flag fandom you know that's not what happened) or "wow I hate the ship you wrote, but you did a good job with it though!" I've gotten others I've forgotten about because I deleted them because they were mean enough to make me cry. I'm a sensitive person, all things considered. if a mutual unfollows me and then shows up in my notes with the green "following" badge instead of the purple "mutual" badge I will feel like a piece of shit who must've done something really wrong and they hate me now when like... that's probably not the case. but my ego isn't as sensitive as all that that I can't handle a stranger telling me I made a typo.

these aren't all the arguments people made against politely pointing out typos. some people felt like the comment being there publicly forever is the bigger problem, and would be okay with a friend dm'ing them about it. but even that is like... why is the comment shameful? why is it a problem that it's there forever? why are you concerned that someone might read it and judge you for normal human error?

anyways yeah that's the post. I made a new one bc I'm not trying to pick a fight with anyone. I didn't mean to be mean in this post either. like if you don't want people pointing out typos to you that's fine. I just think it's kind of silly that you're demanding that the majority opinion should be the one who has to say "typo comments are ok" in the beginning notes, instead of you, the minority opinion, having to say "typo comments are not okay" in the beginning notes. because the majority is okay with polite typo comments.

[shippingmyworld]

Pigging backing on the Danny x Sam ask, but I wanna you're thoughts about Manny and Frida too and how their romantic relationship didn't work out

The Manny x Frida ship sinks a lot less dramatically than the Danny x Sam ship in my headcanon lmao

I chalk up their relationship 'failing' to Manny being autistic and Frida being adhd-coded. Also because they were 13-14 when they kissed and I believe that when you're that young you don't quite know what you want out of life or relationships yet, especially if it's your first one.

In full honestly, I don't believe that Manny held a single ounce of attraction to Frida in a romantic way. Frida was the one that initiated the kiss during the series finale, and Manny barely even reacted to that. I think his autistic mind just went 'Oh, I guess I'm dating Frida now.' and when people/his family asked him if Frida was his girlfriend, he confirmed it. In his mind, you only kissed someone if you were dating or married.

While I do think that Frida did develop a crush on Manny, I don't believe that she was serious about the kiss as a way for them to start dating. She's excitable, and gets swept up in the moment very easily, and is the jester type of character. She's the hypeman of every situation she's remotely near, even if not directly involved (my main example is the Cactus Kid episode, where she slides into the scene and makes the 'Oh, must be awkward to be you.' comment to Cactus Kid when Grandpapi reveals he's only using CK to make Manny jealous and doesn't think CK is cut out to be a real villain). I think that she kissed Manny because her thought process was something along the lines of: "Hey, this superhero just rounded up literally every villain in the area and is being celebrated by everyone. Someone should kiss him, that's what will make this moment super hype."

So yeah, they tell people that they're boyfriend a girlfriend when asked, but nothing about their relationship actually changed. They don't hold hands, they don't go on romantic dates, and they haven't kissed since that final fight. They still hang out all the time during their first year of high school, but slowly start drifting to different groups as they don't have many classes together.

The year passes normally and it's summer break. Rodolfo approaches Manny (who's just hanging out at home) all nervous like, asking a bunch of questions like he's beating around the bush. Manny thinks it's weird and asks his Dad what's up, and Rodolfo asks if everything is good with Manny and Frida since she hasn't been around recently. Manny says everything is fine, and Rodolfo keeps pushing the issue (he's projecting failed marriage with Maria onto his son). He eventually asks when the last time Manny kissed Frida was, and Manny realizes they haven't kissed since the first kiss right before high school.

So, being the direct person he is, Manny just calls Frida (in front of his father of all things) and tells her point blank.

Manny: "Hey, we haven't kissed since a year ago." Frida: "Huh, you're right." Manny: "So I guess we're not dating anymore?" Frida: "Yeah, I guess so. We're still friends though, right?" Manny: "Of course!"

And the call ends there with Manny going on with his day as usual while his Father stands there horror-struck and still processing the most chill breakup in history.

Meanwhile there's a whole soap opera level of drama going on in the background, as all the supervillains in school want to date Frida and have been waiting for her to break up with Manny, and Zoe has been trying to get Manny to fall in love with her. But that's a whole nother fic prompt lol.

Also it's cool, my posts are literally filled with typos lmao

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hey! I hope you’re doing well, mentally and physically. I know classes started back up now. Don’t forget to eat and drink water.

I’m not sure how this can be set up but u can do with the idea how you like. But a First date? Scenerio or something Or like first kiss after the second/third date thing? With Feitan. If you don’t mind could u make the s/o Tall tall? Sorry for any typos💜

Hi, I'm doing better but still under some stress ;-;. Here's a scenario, thank you for the ask!

Feitan x tall!reader: First kiss

Feitan started to date you after you worked your courage to ask him. Of course, at first he blatantly said no, but this was because he was afraid you would get hurt when around him. You were from Meteor City, so while you could stay in the city's boundaries forever, the mafia could still come and attack. Feitan didn't want to lose anymore people, especially one that could be his potential love. However, you were able to prove to him that you could fend off yourself and that you really meant it when you said "I love you" to him. So, that was how the relationship started.

He was visiting one day after a major troupe mission. He was back with Phinks and Shalnark, who returned to sort out some negotiations between elders and the troupe. Chrollo wanted to come back, but he was too busy raiding a mafia building. Feitan was left out of the negotiations because the last time he was there he kicked one of the elders off of the stairs. So he decided to spend some time with you instead.

"Welcome back!" You said, hugging him. It looked a little funny in his opinion because you almost picked him up. The difference in your heights was...immense. Feitan felt as though he was almost half your height and it didn't help that you were completely ignorant to how funny it looked when you lifted him from the ground. Phinks laughed a little too hard once and almost got stabbed. Nonetheless Feitan was quite happy to be back and to see you smile. He would never tell you this in person, but his quiet nod and pat on the back was enough for you to understand.

"What did you want to do? I left the entire day free so I don't have to work at the recycling facility today," you told him, walking over to the makeshift kitchen you had in your apartment. The building was dilapidated, but one of the sturdiest ones in Meteor City with more than five stories.

"No plans, just visiting," Feitan responded. He sat down on a couch you had stolen from the junkyard and lowered his bandana, another thing he refused to do in public.

"Ah, ok, well we can visit the market. I need to buy some stuff for this week anyways, the carrot's are all rotten," you pointed out. There was no official grocery store in Meteor City, but the forest nearby along with the growing agricultural sector in the city helped keep people's stomachs full to some extent. You would barter your way for fresh produce, usually selling some valuable you found at one of the junk piles.

"Sure," Feitan shrugged.

"Is that a date?" you joked. The two of you never officially went on a date before, mainly hanging around your place or his. Feitan paused at that comment.

"Sure," once again he shrugged and lifted his bandana back up.

The marketplace wasn't as busy, likely because it was still around noon and most people came out to buy items at around 3pm. You were looking through some fruits (mainly because he once said he liked strawberries) while Feitan was struggling to reach for a high-stand item. You went to go help and of course he pouted about how it made him feel like you were making fun of his height.

"It wasn't my fault that you just happen to be shorter than me," you replied. He didn't say anything back, he just buried his face more into his bandana and huffed.

Sometimes Feitan wished he could be in a peaceful life with you. Just doing simple tasks like buying groceries or the two of you reading art books together. He was lost in his thoughts for a while until you tapped him on the head (which also got you an annoyed glance) and told him the two of you can head back.

At your home you tried your best at making something fancy with what you had. The best you could do was a fancy looking salad, with some fruits added for the flair. You two caught up on each others' lives, with you finding out about the eighth member of the troupe being killed by a Zoldyck.

"Sometimes, I worry that you might...I don't know, get hurt," you said, holding your cup of tea a little tighter.

"Why? I'm stronger than you, worry for yourself," Feitan retorted, stabbing a strawberry hard with his fork.

"I know," you laughed, you looked at him while he tried his best to avoid eye contact. He was still a bit shy, still the same as ever.

By the time you two were done with food and discussing which art book to read next, Feitan was called by Shalnark to come back for a drink with the rest of the troupe who made it to the city. He said that he would come back tomorrow, likely bringing something he stole with him this time.

"Yeah, I'll just be where I always am," you smiled. You followed him to the doorway, about to wave him goodbye until you had an idea.

"Fei, I was wondering...we've never really kissed before, right?"

He stopped, halfway out the door and slowly turning his head to you. He had a feeling of what you were planning to do next. Should he ask for a kiss? Sure, he did want to kiss you at some point, but what if he was weird for that? Is he weird?

"No, we haven't," he responded, turning his head away from you again. But you took his arm and made him face you.

"Do you want to?" you asked, your eyes connecting with his for a millisecond before he turned to look at the fading wallpaper.

"...sure," he sighed. He didn't expect you to actually kiss him but the next thing he knew he felt your soft lips on his.

"Hey, Feitan what took you so long?" Uvogin asked as Feitan entered the bar. He looked dazed, a little out of it but overall alright.

"Did something happen? With y/n?" Shalnark pointed at Feitan, and everyone now could see the slight tint of red on his cheeks. Feitan glared at them and didn't say a word.

"No, it's fine," he said, sliding into a seat next to Machi.

He wasn't going to tell them that you slightly lifted him up again, an endearing act but also a very, very embarrassing one. Feitan wanted to kiss you longer, maybe many more times. But for now, the first kiss was enough to send his heart racing.

[courtney-deserved-better]

💥 for the ask game

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

short answer:

i invite you to:

ask me about my writing choices (i don't understand why courtney betrayed gwen in this chapter, can you explain?)

point out factual inaccuracies (the canadian school system usually starts in september, not august)

point out inappropriate representation (you've written dj, a black character, to be a lot more aggressive than he is in canon)

point out typos (you forgot an apostrophe here)

i will get irritated if you:

tell me what i should've done instead (why did courtney betray gwen in this chapter when they should've teamed up against alejandro?)

treat your personal preference as criticism (this would be better if it was fluff instead of angst)

give unasked for criticism (i'm going to explain everything you did wrong and what you can do to make it better even though you have not said anywhere that you are okay with that)

long answer:

unless i explicitly ask for it, i don't want to hear it. this isn't because i can't take criticism—i'm enrolled in a specialized writing program in my university that means my work is critiqued on a weekly basis and has been for a few years now—but because this is my hobby. it's what i do for fun.

if you spent your free time knitting a scarf, and you show it to someone, and their response is "that color combination doesn't work" or "you can clearly see these rows are uneven" or "why did you choose that pattern when this one is so much better?" you're probably gonna be pretty disappointed and upset. if you showed it to them and asked "what can i do better?", that's a different story, but if all you said was "hey, look at this scarf i just made!" and you're met with criticism, that's gonna bum you out. and it's gonna make you not want to show that person the next scarf you make.

i am absolutely open to questions about my fics! if you don't understand a writing/character/plot choice i made, please ask! but again, there's a difference between asking to understand, and asking because i didn't do what you wanted. "why did noah lie in this scene, can you explain your reasoning?" is a different question than "why did noah lie in this scene when he should've told alejandro the truth and kissed him?" (random example)

thankfully, i don't receive much unwarranted criticism on my fics, but when i do, it's really just a matter of personal preference. like what ship i should write (instead of what i'm writing), what genre of song i should adapt (instead of what i'm adapting), etc. and that ticks me off! it's like saying "hey, look at this scarf i just made!" and someone responding with "i don't like knitting, you should sew a tote bag instead." that's straight up rude! there are sooo many fics out there, it's a much better use of your time to find ones you like (or writing ones you like!) than complaining in the comments about why you don't like a fic.

my exception to "please don't give me unwanted criticism" is if you notice any factual inaccuracies ("hey, the canadian school system doesn't work like that") or inappropriate representation ("hey, you've completely reduced leshawna into the black best friend stereotype"). i try to do my best when writing geography/cultures and especially marginalized characters, but i'm not perfect, and am entirely capable of doing inaccurate/insufficient research and not being aware of my own ignorance. if that is the case, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

also typos. please let me know if you spot a typo.

thanks for the ask!