#and they don’t have to stay one liners. it’s just easy to start that way.

[queencvbra]

Like for a one-liner starter. Multis specify which muse(s) you want one for. If you want a specific verse you can ask but I’ll leave it vague otherwise.

[pucksandpower]

Baby Steps

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you are barely staying afloat, desperately trying to wrap your mind around your impending motherhood while juggling being a press officer for Scuderia Ferrari … Charles shows you that you don’t have to do it alone

Warnings: pregnancy, family abandonment, and harassment

You grip the edges of the trash can tightly as your stomach lurches again. The half-digested remains of your breakfast spill into the plastic liner with a sickening splatter. Straightening up slowly, you take a few deep breaths and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The smell rising from the can makes your stomach roll threateningly once more.

Turning away quickly, you lean against the side of the Ferrari motorhome, eyes closed. The sun beats down relentlessly, and you can feel sweat beading at your hairline.

This “morning” sickness is no joke — it seems to strike at all hours of the day. You thought you had gotten away with a quick breakfast break an hour ago when Carlos was in a team briefing, but apparently not.

Footsteps on the gravel make you open your eyes. You pray it’s not a member of the press, or, god forbid, Carlos. The last thing you need is a photo of the Ferrari press officer tossing her cookies behind the paddock. But no, it’s Charles Leclerc striding towards you, his brow furrowed.

You straighten up and attempt nonchalance. “Good morning, Charles.”

He slows, glancing between you and the extremely obvious trash can of vomit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you say breezily. “Just a bit of food poisoning, I think. Had a questionable chicken salad for dinner yesterday.”

You notice Charles is wearing a soft grey t-shirt and track pants, his hair damp from the shower. He must have just finished with physiotherapy. He looks so effortlessly handsome, it’s frankly unfair. You suddenly feel acutely aware of the sheen of sweat on your face and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

Charles’ face remains creased in concern. “Food poisoning? Have you been to the medical center?”

You wave a hand. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just 24 hours of hell before I’m back to normal.” You attempt a smile, but have to grab the trash can again as the smell from it hits you like a wave.

Charles springs forward and grabs your arm as you retch miserably. “Whoa, take it easy,” he says, supporting you until the heaving subsides.

You stay hunched over, breathing hard. The world is spinning a little. You hear Charles say firmly, “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you sat down.”

He keeps a hand under your arm and leads you into the blessedly cool motorhome. The rich scent of coffee fills the interior, reminding you that you haven’t managed to keep any food down today. You sink gratefully onto a padded bench at one of the tables.

Charles sits opposite you, his green eyes studying you intently. “When did the sickness start?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. The jig is up. “About four weeks ago,” you mutter.

Understanding dawns on Charles’ face. “Oh. Oh!” His eyes flick down to your still-flat stomach. “So you’re ...”

“Pregnant. Yes.” You drop your head into your hands.

“Well, hey, congratulations,” says Charles gently. “That’s really exciting.”

You huff out something between a sob and a laugh. “Exciting? More like a nightmare!” You run your fingers back through your hair and look desperately at Charles. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Carlos. I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. If I lose this job ...”

Charles’ brows draw together again. “Why would you lose your job? You’re Carlos’ press officer. I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you.”

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no way. I can’t take time off. The season just started! Carlos needs me, I organize everything for him. The travel, the events, the media, everything!” You bite your lip anxiously. “Maybe … maybe after the baby comes, I can figure something out. But I have to keep this quiet until then. Please.”

Charles reaches over and lays a hand on your arm. His touch is gentle but firm. “Y/N. Working yourself into the ground won’t be good for you or the baby. Have you thought about taking a sabbatical? Just a few months to rest, focus on yourself.”

Panic flares in your chest. “No! No, I can’t.” Your breathing quickens. “You don’t understand — I have no one else. No partner. No family. This job is everything. If I lose it ...” You trail off, trying to blink back the sting of tears.

Charles is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “Okay. I understand this is your decision. And I promise I won’t tell Carlos or anyone else.” He hesitates. “But Y/N, please take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

You nod jerkily and avoid his earnest gaze. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet. The motorhome tilts sickeningly for a second.

Charles rises too, watching you with concern. “Will you be alright?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. You start to head deeper into the motorhome, desperate to lie down before the nausea returns.

“Y/N,” Charles calls after you softly. You pause, glancing back. “Congratulations again. You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He gives you a small, warm smile.

You swallow hard. “Thank you, Charles,” you whisper. Then you turn and continue on unsteadily, one hand braced against the wall.

You make it to the small office that passes for your private quarters on race weekends. Collapsing onto the ergonomic desk chair, you stare up at the ceiling and place a hand over your still-flat belly.

A baby.

Your baby.

Fear and wonder tangle inside you.

You must have dozed off, because the next thing you know a hand is gently shaking your shoulder. You jerk awake to find Carlos standing over you, his eyebrows drawn with concern.

“Y/N? Are you ill?”

You stand up too quickly and immediately regret it as the room spins. Carlos grabs your shoulder to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you say hoarsely. “Just needed a quick nap.”

Carlos frowns, clearly unconvinced. “Charles said you were throwing up outside. That you have food poisoning?”

You make a mental note to kill Charles later. “Uh, yeah. Bad chicken salad, I think. But I’ll be okay.” You attempt a reassuring smile.

Carlos sits down on the edge of your desk, watching you closely. “Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell? You know you don’t have to worry about me, I can look after myself for one day.” His dark brown eyes are filled with worry.

Guilt twists your gut. Carlos has always been extraordinarily kind and thoughtful, a rarity in the high stakes world of Formula 1. You hate lying to him.

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t want to let you down. But you’re right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head immediately. “No, don’t be sorry. Just focus on feeling better, yes? Take tomorrow off too. I order you to rest,” he adds with a small grin.

You smile weakly back. “Okay, boss.”

Carlos stands and gestures to the tiny table bolted to the wall. “I brought you some tea and crackers. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you checking on me.”

He smiles. “Of course. Feel better, Y/N.” With a last lingering look of concern, he turns and leaves you in peace.

You look at the steaming tea and crackers and feel tears prick your eyes again. Carlos is a good man. Too good, probably, for the pragmatic demands of Formula 1. You know you should tell him about the pregnancy. But the thought of losing your place here, on this team, fills you with dread.

This high stakes world of racing is all you’ve known for the past three years. You can’t imagine life outside the bubble of the paddock, away from the adrenaline and pressure. Away from the team. Away from Carlos. Away from Charles.

With a deep breath, you sit up straight and tear open the crackers. You need to think about this rationally. Maybe Charles is right and you do need to slow down eventually. But for now, for the next few months at least, you have to keep going like nothing has changed.

You place a hand on your stomach as you nibble a cracker. “It’s gonna be okay, little one,” you whisper. “We’ll figure this out.”

***

The smell of coffee turns your stomach these days, but you still make your way blearily to the breakfast buffet each morning. Carlos is an early riser, and you need to be available whenever he is ready to start the day. You scan the offerings, deciding toast is the safest option, and reach for a couple of dry slices.

“Oh, Y/N!”

You turn to see Charles holding out a pre-packaged parfait cup. “I grabbed an extra yogurt by mistake. Do you want it?”

You hesitate. Your first instinct is suspicion — this is the third time this week Charles has “accidentally” had an extra snack to offer you. But the yogurt does look appealing ...

“Sure, thanks,” you say, taking the cup from him. Charles shoots you a smile before grabbing a plate and continuing down the buffet.

You sit down next to Carlos with your toast and yogurt. He glances up from his phone. “Morning. Feeling better today?”

You nod, mouth full. In truth, the nausea has continued, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it from Carlos and powered through.

Charles joins you both a few minutes later, greeted by Carlos with a fist bump. You peel open your yogurt while half-listening to the two men discuss the upcoming practices.

The sweet, fruity parfait is cool and soothing on your sensitive stomach. You find yourself polishing it off in record time. As you scrape the last bit of yogurt from the bottom, you realize Charles is watching you.

“Good?” He asks.

You lick the plastic spoon clean before answering. “Yeah, really hit the spot, thanks.”

Charles’ eyes crinkle with a smile. “No problem. I’ll try to grab two tomorrow.”

You feel your smile grow fixed. This is getting ridiculous. Charles Leclerc does not care this much about your yogurt preferences. He’s up to something.

Over the next week, Charles’ thoughtfulness continues. A cold bottle of water when you’re looking hot and tired. A sandwich from a local bakery when you missed lunch. Your favorite chocolate bar when you mention a craving in passing. Always with an innocent smile, as if he’s not playing Superman to your pretend Lois Lane.

It all comes to a head on race day. You’re in the scorching sun on the grid, already feeling the fatigue of the hectic weekend. Carlos is doing his pre-race routine, so your attention has lapsed. Suddenly a blessedly cold bottle of water appears in front of your face. You look up to see Charles grinning down at you.

“Stay hydrated,” he says with a wink.

That does it. “Okay, enough!” You snap, smacking the water bottle away. It falls to the ground with a thud, water glugging out.

Charles’ eyes go wide with shock. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull Charles several steps away from eavesdropping mechanics. “Why are you doing this?” You hiss. “I don’t need you to baby me!”

“What?” Charles looks completely bewildered. “I’m just trying to help-”

“Well, stop,” you interrupt sharply. The hurt on Charles’ face makes you falter, but you press on. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine.”

“Pity?” Charles frowns. “It’s not pity, Y/N. I care about you.” He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re always taking care of everyone around you. Now you need someone to take care of you too.”

His kind words hit you like a gut punch. Oh God, the stupid hormones! You feel hot tears spring to your eyes.

Charles’ alarmed expression softens. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you ...” He pulls you into a hug. One hand smoothes your hair while the other rubs comforting circles on your back.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs. You cling to him, embarrassed by your raw emotional response but unable to stop the tears.

After a minute the wave passes. You pull back, wiping your eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But I understand this is a difficult time.” His expression turns serious. “If you ever need anything, please ask me. I’m here for you.”

Looking up into Charles’ earnest green eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude. Whatever awkwardness lingers between you has evaporated. Charles is a true friend.

You squeeze his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Glancing around, you notice some odd looks from passing crew members. “We should probably get back to work before people think there’s a full-blown soap opera going on over here.”

Charles grins. “Agreed. But this conversation isn’t over. Dinner tonight in my room?” He raises an eyebrow.

You laugh, blinking away the last dampness from your eyes. “It’s a date.”

***

You smooth your hands down your dress as you approach Charles’ hotel suite, suddenly feeling nervous. You’ve been in drivers’ rooms countless times for work, but this feels different. More intimate.

You take a steadying breath and knock. Charles opens the door, looking unfairly handsome in a crisp button down shirt.

“Y/N! Come in.” He steps back to allow you inside.

The suite is spacious and modern, with floor to ceiling windows along one wall looking out over the glittering city. Charles leads you through the living area to a set of glass doors. “I thought we could eat out on the balcony,” he explains, opening the doors with a flourish. “The fresh air will be good for you and baby.”

You step outside and have to stifle a gasp. A small table is elegantly set for two, a vase of flowers in the center. String lights twinkle overhead. “Charles, this is beautiful!”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” Pulling out a chair, he gestures for you to sit.

As he takes the seat opposite you, you notice several covered dishes on the table. Charles sees you looking and smiles a bit sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mother earlier.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I asked her what foods she craved when she was pregnant with me and my brother. So I ordered a bunch of that from room service, in hopes there might be something you’d like.”

A lump forms in your throat. You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Charles, that is so incredibly thoughtful.”

Pink tinges his tanned cheeks. “Of course. I want to take care of you.”

You chat comfortably over food and Charles’ excellent choice of wine for you — sparkling grape juice. He relaxes as you praise the chicken and melon he ordered.

When you sit back contentedly, Charles fixes you with a thoughtful look. “So, do you know how far along you are?”

You hesitate. “About three months now.”

He nods. “And have you been to a doctor yet?”

Your fingers find a groove in the wooden table to trace. “Not yet.” At his surprised look, you add defensively, “I’ve just been so busy with work. But I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Still, you should make an appointment soon. Just to be safe.” Charles’ tone is gentle.

You nod without meeting his eye. An uncomfortable beat passes.

“Do you ...” Charles pauses delicately. “Forgive me, but … do you know who the father is?”

Your cheeks flame. You stand abruptly, walking over to the balcony railing. After a moment Charles joins you, leaning on the rail at your side.

“I’m sorry, that was too personal,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I just ...” You glance up at him. “He’s no longer in my life.” You look away, a lump in your throat.

Charles doesn’t ask anything more, just moves closer in a gesture of silent support. You stand together breathing in the night air. The twinkling city sprawls before you. For a moment, the future doesn’t feel quite so frightening.

Eventually you stifle a yawn behind your hand. Charles glances over. “You must be exhausted. I should let you get to bed.”

You smile gratefully. He walks you to the door of the suite. Pausing, you stand on tiptoes and kiss Charles lightly on the cheek. “Thank you again for dinner. For everything.”

His eyes shine as he gazes down at you. “Of course. Sweet dreams, Y/N. And ...” He brushes a feather-light touch over your belly. “Sweet dreams to you too, little one.”

You feel your heart melt just a little. With a last smile, you head down the hall to the elevators. As the doors slide closed, you catch one last glimpse of Charles watching after you.

Back in your smaller, blander room, you change for bed in a happy haze. Sliding between cool sheets, you let out a contented sigh. Tonight was lovely. Charles’ thoughtfulness reminds you there are still good people in the world. For the first time in weeks, you feel a spark of hope.

You drift off to sleep with a hand resting gently on your belly. Everything seems less frightening now that you aren’t alone. Whatever happens next, you and your baby will get through it together.

***

The buzz of the media pen is giving you a headache today. Or maybe that’s just the pregnancy. You blink heavily, trying to focus on Carlos speaking into the microphone in front of you. You hit record on your phone as he answers the first question. It’s your job to capture every word to ensure he’s not misrepresented later.

The reporter’s voice fades in and out. You sway slightly, shaking your head. Just need some fresh air. You take a step away from the crowd, vision blurring at the edges. Dark spots dance across your eyes. The concrete floor rushes up to meet you-

“Y/N!”

Strong hands grab your shoulders, slowing your collapse. Your head spins as you try to make sense of it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Charles’ worried face swims into view above you. You part your lips but no words come out.

There’s loud commotion around you now. You feel yourself being shifted, lifted. Snatches of Charles’ voice pierce through the fog.

“She’s pregnant ... get help ... ambulance ...”

You try to cling to consciousness but it’s like grasping at smoke. The world goes dark.

When you resurface, it’s to antiseptic white walls and a steady beeping. Hospital. An IV pulls at your arm as you shift.

“Y/N?” Charles appears at your side, relief breaking across his face. “Thank God. You’re awake.”

Before you can respond, he’s disappeared again, calling for a doctor. You try to push yourself more upright but your limbs feel like lead.

A brisk older woman in a white coat enters, glancing at the monitor beside your bed. “Good to see you awake, Miss Y/L/N. You gave us quite a scare.”

“What happened?” Your voice comes out hoarse.

“You fainted from low blood pressure. A common issue in pregnancy, but yours seems to be more severe.” The doctor flips through your chart with a frown.

Charles stands anxiously at the foot of the bed. “But she’ll be alright now?”

The doctor hesitates. “I’m recommending complete pelvic rest and limited activity for the remainder of the pregnancy. Strictly no standing or walking for prolonged periods.” She pins you with a sharp look. “And if your blood pressure drops again, we’ll have no choice but to put you on full bed rest.”

Your stomach drops through the floor. “What? No, I can’t! I have to keep working, I-”

“Y/N.” Charles’ voice stops your panicked rambling. His face is lined with concern as he takes your hand. “Your health is what matters most.”

The doctor nods briskly. “Precisely. No job is worth risking your or your baby’s safety.” With a final warning look, she departs.

The moment she leaves, you burst into tears. Harsh, gasping sobs wrack your frame. This is a disaster. Without being able to stand or walk for long stretches, you’re useless to the team. You’ll be fired for sure. And then what will you do? You have no one, no other skills-

Warm, strong arms wrap around you as you weep. Charles cradles you against his chest, making low soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

You clutch fistfuls of his shirt, burying your face in the soft cotton. The steady thump of his heartbeat slowly calms your hysteria.

When the tears finally subside, Charles eases you gently back against the pillows. His thumbs brush away the moisture from your cheeks.

“I know you’re scared,” he says quietly. “But I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. We are in this together now.”

His green eyes radiate such sincerity, you feel some of the panic and despair lift. You cling tightly to his hand, anchoring yourself to him like he’s a rock in a stormy sea.

***

You pick listlessly at the greyish meat and mushy vegetables on your hospital dinner tray. At least Charles had the foresight to sneak in some contraband snacks earlier — you polish off the last crumbs of the cookies he brought, wishing futilely for something more appetizing.

A knock at the door precedes Charles peeking in. “Hungry for something better than hospital food?” He holds up a paper takeout bag and shakes it enticingly.

You brighten immediately. “Charles, you’re my hero.”

He laughs and enters, pulling a table over your lap to serve as a makeshift dining surface. Soon plastic containers of pasta, salad, and fresh bread are opened, the savory scents making your mouth water.

Charles watches fondly as you tuck in. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel up to eating. But who doesn’t like Italian food?”

You make a noise of emphatic agreement through your full mouth. Charles chuckles.

When you finally surface for air, he clears his throat. “So I was thinking ...” Charles busies himself folding and refolding your napkin. “My apartment in Monaco is pretty big for just me. And it has a guest room that’s just sitting empty.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to go on.

“Well ...” Charles rubs the back of his neck. “I thought maybe when you’re discharged, you could come stay with me for a while. So I can make sure you’re not overexerting yourself.”

You frown slightly. “Oh. That’s really kind, but I’ll be fine once I’m out of here.”

“Will you?” Charles levels you with a knowing look. “No offense, but you’re not exactly the best at asking for help when you need it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t really argue with that.

“Let me do this for you. For my own peace of mind too,” Charles implores gently. He takes your hand, blue eyes full of sincerity. “Please?”

Looking into his earnest face, you feel your weak resistance faltering. Still ... “I don’t want to be a burden,” you mumble half-heartedly.

Charles squeezes your hand. “You could never be. I care about you, Y/N.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “I want to take care of you and the baby.”

The warmth in his voice melts away the last of your reluctance. And honestly, the prospect of having Charles doting on you is far preferable to being alone in your small, dreary apartment.

You meet his hopeful gaze. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then … I accept your kind offer.”

Charles’ answering smile rivals the sun. “Yeah? Oh, that’s fantastic!” He sweeps you into an enthusiastic but gentle hug. You cling to him, feeling the nervous knot that’s been your constant companion for weeks finally start to loosen. Everything will work out.

That night as Charles is leaving, you call his name softly. He pauses, one hand on the door.

You twist your fingers in the blanket, suddenly shy. “I just wanted to say … thank you. For everything. I’ll find a way to repay you someday, I promise.”

Charles’ expression softens. He comes back and squeezes your hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Just focus on yourself and that little one.” He strokes a finger over your belly. “That’s all the repayment I need.”

With a last smile, he slips out, leaving you to fall asleep with a heart full of gratitude and growing affection for your kind rescuer.

***

You smooth your hands nervously over your dress as you approach Fred Vasseur’s office. This is it. Time to tell your boss that you’ll be leaving him in the lurch smack dab in the middle of the season.

Charles gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It will be okay. Just explain the situation.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Charles opens the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Fred rises from behind his desk, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, Charles. What can I do for you?” His gaze darts between you curiously.

Your mouth goes dry. Charles gently guides you to sit in one of the chairs facing Fred, taking the other himself.

“Y/N has something she needs to discuss with you,” Charles begins calmly. “I’m here for moral support.”

Fred’s eyebrows raise but he nods for you to go on. Your hands twist together in your lap.

“Well, I ...” You have to pause and swallow hard. “I recently learned that I’m pregnant. And I’ve developed some, uh, complications that mean I can’t travel or be on my feet much.”

Fred’s eyebrows climb higher. “I … see. Congratulations?” He still looks perplexed.

Charles jumps in. “What she’s trying to say is, she needs to take a leave of absence. Doctor’s orders.”

“Ah.” Understanding settles on Fred’s face. He turns back to you. “I’m very sorry to hear you’re unwell. Of course health must come first.”

You feel yourself relax slightly. “So I can take a sabbatical? My job will still be here when I’m able to return?”

“Absolutely.” Fred nods. “You’ve been invaluable to our team. Your role will be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

You could cry with relief. “Oh, thank you! That means the world.”

Fred smiles kindly. “Think nothing of it. Focus on your health and that baby. We’ll manage in the meantime.”

Charles reaches over to clasp your hand supportively. “Is there anything else she needs to know before starting her leave?”

Fred considers this. “Y/N will have full pay during sabbatical, of course. And keep me posted on any support you require — medical, household, anything at all.”

You clutch Charles’ hand, too overwhelmed to speak. He smiles. “Very generous. We appreciate that greatly.”

After finalizing a few details, you both stand. Fred comes around the desk to shake your hand. “Best of luck with everything. Let me know if you need absolutely anything.”

You whisper a heartfelt thank you before allowing Charles to guide you out. Safely in the hallway, you turn and fling your arms around him.

“Charles, thank you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

His strong arms come around you, cradling you close. “Of course, Y/N. I meant what I said — I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

You cling to each other for a long moment, his steadfast support washing away your lingering fears. As long as Charles is with you, you know everything will work out just fine.

***

You fidget in the generic mint-colored exam room, paper crinkling beneath you as you perch on the edge of the table. Charles sits in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone, the picture of calm. You wish you shared his zen attitude.

A brisk knock precedes the door swinging open. A smiling older woman enters, glancing down at her chart.

“Y/N? I’m Dr. Boucher, nice to meet you.” Her smile widens as she looks between you and Charles. “And you must be the dad! Wonderful.”

Your mouth drops open to correct her, but Charles beats you to it. “That’s right, thank you,” he says easily, standing to shake the doctor’s hand.

You snap your mouth shut, eyes widening. But the doctor has already moved on, washing her hands at the sink.

“Now then, let’s take a look at this baby, shall we?” She pats the exam table.

You lie back, hiking up your shirt to expose your belly. The cool gel makes you shiver as the doctor smears it over your skin. She places the ultrasound wand low on your abdomen and moves it slowly.

The screen blooms to life, blurred black and white shifting until a shape emerges — a tiny profile, curled arms and legs distinct. You gasp softly. There’s your baby.

Dr. Boucher smiles. “There we are. Looks to be about 16 weeks along. Growing beautifully.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the screen. Your throat feels tight. After so many weeks of secrecy and fear, this precious little life finally seems real.

“And there’s the heartbeat.” The doctor turns up the volume, and a rapid thumping fills the room. “Nice and strong.”

Tears spill over your cheeks before you can stop them. A glance over shows Charles watching the monitor intently, green eyes shiny with emotion. He reaches for your hand, gripping tightly.

When the appointment ends, you both exit the office in a daze. As you walk down the street to Charles’ car, he turns to you.

“That was … incredible,” he says softly. “Seeing your baby for the first time ...” He trails off, at a loss for words.

You lift his hand and press a kiss to the back, hoping he understands the depth of your gratitude. Charles smiles tenderly in return.

Safely home in Charles’ plush apartment, you curl up together on the sofa with mugs of tea to continue gazing at the ultrasound photos. Charles slips an arm around your shoulders, his thumb idly stroking your arm as you chatter excitedly about preparing a nursery.

This moment, here with Charles, your child’s heartbeat still echoing in your ears … it’s the closest thing to pure joy you’ve ever known. The future finally feels bright with hope. You lean into Charles’ warmth and send up a silent prayer of thanks for this man and the new life he’s given back to you.

***

You curl deeper into the plush couch in Charles’ apartment, cradling your mug of tea. Rain patters against the windows overlooking Monaco’s glittering harbor. The cozy scene makes you feel safe enough to finally open up.

“Charles?”

He glances over from where he’s poking at the fire. “Hmm?”

You twist your fingers together nervously. “There’s more I should tell you. About how I got pregnant.”

Charles rises and comes to sit beside you, face open and attentive. Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“It happened last winter, during the off-season. I went back home to Italy for a while, to the little town outside Milan where my family lives.”

You stare into your tea, remembering. “There was a man vacationing there, from Rome. Dario. We met in a cafe and just … clicked. He was handsome, charming, a perfect gentleman.” Your lips twist wryly. “Or so I thought.”

Charles remains quiet, letting you gather the words.

“We spent every day together for two weeks. Took long walks, went on romantic dinners. When it was time for him to leave, we ...” You trail off, face warming.

“You made love,” Charles supplies gently. You nod, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought it meant as much to him as to me. But after he went back to Rome, his texts and calls slowly stopped. And then I found out why.”

Your voice drops to a pained whisper. “He was married. His ‘business trip’ was just a chance to fool around. When his wife saw my texts on his phone … it exploded. And then my family found out about the affair.”

Finally you lift your head. Charles’ face is lined with compassion. “They disowned me. Called me a fool and a harlot. It didn’t matter that I was lied to — as far as they’re concerned, I brought shame upon our family.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Charles immediately pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, crying into his shoulder as he rubs your back.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “You did nothing wrong. This Dario took advantage of you, and your family should have supported you.”

Charles holds you until the storm of tears passes. When you finally pull back, he cups your face in both hands, brushing away the lingering moisture with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “I know that wasn’t easy. You’re so incredibly strong.”

Leaning forward, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. Then his palms slide down to cradle your rounded belly.

“I’ve got you now,” Charles murmurs. “Both of you. You’ll never be alone again.”

Nestled in his lap, you close your eyes and just breathe. The remnants of hurt and betrayal wash away, replaced by the safety of Charles’ embrace. Whatever comes next, you have found your sanctuary here, with him.

***

You wander through the apartment looking for Charles, one hand braced on your lower back. Your belly has popped noticeably in the last couple weeks, throwing your balance off.

Not finding Charles in any of the usual spots, you head down the hall towards the spare bedroom. When you push open the door, your jaw drops.

The room has been completely transformed. Bright sunshine spills through the windows onto whitewashed walls. A plush rug covers the hardwood floor. In one corner sits a fully assembled crib, stuffed animals piled inside.

Charles stands back to admire his work, shirtsleeves rolled up and hair adorably mussed. He turns when you gasp softly.

“Y/N! I wanted to surprise you.” His grin falters. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Charles, I love it!” You blink back happy tears, wandering further inside. Charles’ face lights up.

“I wasn’t sure what color to paint, so I left the walls white for now,” he explains, coming over to slip an arm around you.

You lean into him, gazing around. “It’s perfect. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

Pink tinges Charles’ cheeks. He kisses the top of your head. “I’m the lucky one.”

You decide on a pale green for the walls. Charles immediately fetches paint supplies, but hovers anxiously as you start rolling color onto the first wall.

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” He eyes your protruding stomach. “The fumes can’t be good ...”

You wave off his concern. “I’ll be fine! Here-” You dip a roller in paint and offer it out. “Make yourself useful instead of worrying.”

Charles accepts the roller reluctantly. Soon you’re both working side by side. Charles takes on the higher parts of the walls that you can’t comfortably reach anymore.

Humming under your breath, you step back to critique your work so far. As you do, your foot catches on the paint tray and you stumble. Charles reaches out to steady you, but not before a fat drop of paint lands on his cheek.

“Oops!” You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh at the green splotch on his tanned skin.

Charles narrows his eyes in mock indignation. “You think that’s funny, do you?” Before you can react, he flicks his loaded paintbrush at you, spattering your shirt.

You gasp in delighted outrage. “Oh, it is on!” Grabbing your roller, you swipe it down his arm.

Charles lets out a laugh of surprise. Soon paint is flying from both directions. You run around each other, giggling and slipping on the drops coating the floor.

Finally Charles catches you gently by the waist. You’re both absolutely covered in pale green, sides aching from laughter. Your faces are inches apart, smiles fading into something more tender.

Slowly, Charles leans in and presses his lips to yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. You melt against him, hands coming up to cradle his jaw.

When you finally part, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he confesses, a little breathless.

You smile, heart soaring. “What took you so long?”

His answering grin outshines the sun. There, surrounded by dreams of the future, you share another lingering kiss.

***

You settle back against the mountain of pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for your unwieldy body. At nearly 8 months along now, your belly feels impossibly huge. Luckily Charles’ plush bed offers plenty of space to sprawl.

Speaking of Charles, he appears in the doorway holding a bottle. “Ready for your massage?”

You eye the bottle of oil eagerly. The stretch marks crisscrossing your stomach have been itchy and tight. “Yes please.”

Charles props up pillows behind you so you’re half-reclining. Then he drizzles some of the oil into his palms, warming it up before smoothing his hands over your bump.

You sigh in bliss at his gentle but firm touch. The fragrant oil soothes and softens your irritated skin. Under Charles’ ministrations, the discomfort slowly ebbs away.

His strong hands glide over every inch, easing out the aches and pains. As Charles works, he murmurs to your belly. “There you go, little one. We’re going to make your home nice and cozy.”

Your heart clenches at the tender scene. Even after all these months of living together, it still sometimes hits you how domestic this is. Sharing a home, sharing a bed … it’s everything you secretly longed for but never expected to have. A real family.

You trail your fingers through Charles’ soft waves. His eyes lift to meet yours, soft with affection. The look on his face steals your breath — pure adoration, like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

“I love you.” The words slip out unbidden. Charles’ hands still. For a heartbeat, you’re afraid you’ve said too much.

But then he surges up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “I love you too,” Charles whispers fiercely when you finally break apart, both panting. “So much.”

He seals his words with another drugging kiss. Your hands clutch him close, heart near bursting with joy.

Suddenly Charles breaks the kiss with a gasp. His wide eyes dart down. “Did you feel that?”

You start to shake your head no, distracted by the sensation of his calloused hands massaging your belly, but then you feel it — a distinct thump against your insides. Your baby shifting and kicking.

Charles’ face lights up. “There it is again!” He laughs in wonder. “The little one is saying hello.”

Happy tears blur your vision. Charles presses a delighted kiss to your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispers tenderly.

Through your tears, you smile at the man you love. The one who gave you and your child a home when you had nothing. However you got here, this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

A dull ache starts low in your back as you crawl into bed. You shift and stretch, trying to get comfortable, but can’t seem to. Charles notices your restlessness.

“Alright?” He murmurs sleepily, rolling over to rub your back.

You nod. “Yeah, just some back pain today.” Probably from lugging around this massive belly.

Charles makes soothing noises and continues massaging you until he drifts off. You finally manage to doze too.

Sometime in the night, you jerk awake. The sheets under you are soaked. For one confused moment you think you wet the bed. But then it hits you.

Your water broke.

“Charles!” You shake his shoulder urgently.

He comes awake with a snort. “Huh? What’s wrong?”

“It’s time! The baby-” You break off with a hiss as the first real contraction clenches your belly.

That wakes Charles up fully. “The baby? It’s coming?” He practically falls out of bed, all long limbs flailing.

You have to stifle an inappropriate giggle at his panic. “Yes, so we should-” Your instructions die as Charles sprints from the room. Alright then.

You shake your head in amusement and heave yourself to your feet, one hand braced on your lower back. Waddling slowly after Charles, you find him hyperactively rushing around the living room, tossing items randomly into your hospital bag.

“Okay, let’s go!” He grabs the overflowing bag and dashes out the front door. You stare after him in disbelief then lower yourself carefully onto the couch to wait.

Not thirty seconds later, Charles comes barreling back inside. “Oh God, I forgot you!”

You have to laugh at the panic on his face. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Looking marginally calmer, he helps you up, frantically gathering your bag in one hand while keeping the other wrapped around you.

You lean your weight on him during the next contraction, breathing through it. “It’s okay. But we should really go now.”

Charles practically carries you down to the garage and bundles you into his Ferrari in record time. He drives well over the speed limit, one hand clutching yours the whole way.

At the hospital, Charles refuses to leave your side even for a second. He holds the gas and air for you to breathe during contractions, whispering how strong and amazing you are.

When the time comes to push, the pain is unimaginable. You nearly give up, sobbing that you can’t do this. But Charles is there, guiding you through it, telling you that you absolutely can. And with one final scream, your son enters the world.

The shrill cry is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Charles cuts the cord with trembling hands. Then the nurse lays your wailing, squirmy son on your chest.

You press kisses to his downy head, tears of joy streaming down your face. Charles gazes at you both with pure reverence.

“His name is Matteo Charles,” you whisper. Charles lets out a choked sob at the middle name.

Too soon, the nurses take Matteo for cleaning and checks. One asks Charles if he’d like to hold him. Charles looks to you questioningly, and you nod through your exhaustion.

Charles settles into a chair, shirtless, and Matteo is laid on his bare chest. Charles strokes a gentle finger over Matteo’s cheek, seemingly enraptured.

“Thank you,” he rasps to you. “For our beautiful boy. Thank you, mon amour.”

This is everything you never knew you needed — a family, a home, and an overflowing love you once thought would forever be lost to you. But you’ve found it now, here in this room, together.

***

The sharp cries jolt you from sleep. With a groan, you roll out of the warm circle of Charles’ arms. Your body still aches and protests as you make your way to the nursery in the dark.

Picking up little Matteo, you carry him to the rocker and situate him at your breast. He latches on eagerly, cries fading to soft snuffles.

Charles appears in the doorway, hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay?” He asks through a yawn.

“We’re good now.” You smile tiredly down at your nursing son. His downy hair and scrunched features are all you — you find yourself thankful that there is barely any indication that his biological father even participated in making him.

Charles comes to perch on the ottoman, watching Matteo. “I can’t believe he’s really here,” he murmurs. “Our son.”

Pride swells in your chest. Charles has fully embraced his role as Matteo’s father, as naturally as breathing.

When Matteo finishes eating, Charles takes him to gently pat his back while you right your nightgown. He kisses your son’s head when Matteo lets out a tiny burp.

Back in bed, you curl into Charles with Matteo nestled safely between you. Charles has a race this weekend, his first since the birth. The thought of him leaving fills you with anxiety.

In the morning, Charles confirms your fears. “I’ll just tell Fred I’m not coming this weekend,” he says casually over breakfast. “The team will manage without me. One of the reserve drivers can take over for a few days.”

Your head jerks up. “What? No, Charles, you have to race.”

“But I don’t want to leave you two!” Charles gestures helplessly to where Matteo snoozes in a bouncer.

You catch Charles’ hand. “This is your dream. Matteo and I will be right here cheering you on when you get back.”

Charles wavers. You soften your voice. “It’s only for a little while. We’ll be okay.”

Finally he nods reluctantly. You know how hard this is for him — but Charles was born to race. You won’t let him give that up.

The morning Charles is set to fly out, he clings to you and Matteo like a second skin. You practically have to peel him off at airport security.

“I’ll be back so soon,” he whispers fiercely. One last kiss, and then he’s gone.

The apartment feels empty and too quiet. But you fill the time singing and playing with Matteo, keeping yourself busy until the race.

You and Matteo cuddle close on the couch to watch Charles zoom around the track. Your heart swells with love and pride seeing your man do what he was meant to.

When Charles wins, he shouts his ecstatic thanks to you and Matteo over the team radio. The podium champagne gets sprayed directly into the camera for you.

Finally Charles is home, sweeping you and Matteo into his arms. “I love you both so much,” he murmurs in wonder. You whisper it right back, nestled safe in the arms of your little family.

***

The energy in the Albert Park paddock is electric as teams prepare for the first race of the 2025 season. You feel a thrill just being back, Matteo cooing happily in your arms. At nearly six months old now, he’s ready for his first race.

Charles bounces on his toes, unable to contain his excitement. “Are you ready to see Papa race, Matteo?” He tickles Matteo’s belly, eliciting bubbly giggles.

You head first to the Ferrari garage, where the mechanics crowd around eagerly to fawn over Matteo. Lewis gives you a careful hug, peering curiously at the baby.

“Lewis, meet Matteo,” Charles says proudly. At Lewis’ questioning look, he adds “My son.” The way he says it brooks no argument.

Lewis’ eyes widen slightly but he just smiles. “Hi Matteo!” He offers a finger for Matteo to grip.

Fred comes over next, cooing over how much Matteo has grown. You enjoy the familial atmosphere, everyone fussing over your boy. Matteo basks in the attention.

Charles takes him down to the front of the garage to watch the crews work on the cars. He points out parts of the sleek machines, explaining them seriously to Matteo as if he understands. Matteo just gazes adoringly up at his Papa.

When Charles finally straps into the car for practice, you have ear muffs ready for Matteo’s sensitive ears. Charles blows kisses to you both before pulling on his helmet. Matteo squeals and waves his little fist as the car roars out.

In the hotel that night, you set Matteo on the bed while Charles showers. Stripped down to his diaper, your son kicks his chubby legs excitedly.

Charles emerges in comfy clothes, his hair still damp, and laughs at Matteo’s antics. “Alright, my little race car driver, time for bed.”

He tickles Matteo’s tummy as he puts on a fresh diaper and snaps up his pajamas. Then Charles cradles Matteo close, humming softly as he sways back and forth to soothe him. Your heart clenches at the tender scene.

Once Matteo is deeply asleep, Charles lays him gently in the travel crib. He turns to you with a soft smile. “I can’t imagine life without him now.”

You slip your arms around Charles from behind. “He loves his Papa so much already. Your biggest fan.”

Charles covers your hands with his, gazing at Matteo. “I’m going to win tomorrow for him.”

And he does. On the podium, Charles looks down to where you cradle Matteo in one arm, and gently showers you with champagne. Matteo’s delighted laughter is the sweetest sound.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

***

The energetic buzz of the Italian Grand Prix washes over you as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles, your son cradled safely in his arms. At nearly a year old now, Matteo is fascinated by the vivid colors and cacophony of sounds surrounding him.

Charles playfully bounces Matteo as you weave through the crowded walkways, pointing out the sights and sounds. “Look Matteo, there’s the cars! Vroom vroom!” Charles mimics the roar of an engine. Matteo’s delighted giggle melts your heart. You can’t help but grin, chest swelling with love and pride for your little family.

You’ve just about reached the looming Ferrari motorhome when an absolutely venomous female voice shrieks out, “You!”

Every muscle in your body instantly tenses. You freeze mid-step, heart lurching into your throat. Whipping your head around, you see an immaculately dressed woman barreling directly towards you, her face mottled an ugly shade of rage-induced crimson.

“You disgusting harlot!” The woman spits with unrestrained fury. “You filthy whore!”

Stunned, you instinctively take a faltering step backwards, nearly stumbling. Charles’ strong arm immediately wraps protectively around you and Matteo, steadying you. His body angles partly in front of yours and Matteo’s smaller form, shielding you both on pure instinct.

The deranged woman continues her tirade, advancing until she’s nearly screaming in your face. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, you reprehensible little homewrecker!”

Before you can even begin to formulate a response, a ghost from your past suddenly materializes behind the enraged woman. A man you hoped to never lay eyes on again.

His eyes blow wide at the sight of you, Charles, and the infant cradled against Charles’ chest.

The woman — his wife, you realize with dawning horror — grabs viciously onto his arm, her razor-sharp nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped gouges. “Just look at her!” She shrieks, spit flying from her mouth. “Parading that little bastard child around like it’s something to be proud of!” She violently thrusts her finger towards Matteo, still safely ensconced in Charles’ embrace.

Your son, sensing the onslaught of hostile energy, immediately begins wailing in distress. You instinctively reach out to take him from Charles, desperate to comfort your frightened boy. But Charles subtly shifts his stance, moving further out of her reach, as he focuses intently on gently bouncing and shushing Matteo in an attempt to calm him.

Matteo’s biological father simply stares, slack-jawed, at the sobbing infant. The gears visibly turn in his head. “Is that ...” he chokes out, “Is he … mine?”

“No.” Charles’ immediate response is biting and unequivocal. He clutches Matteo tighter to his chest. “Matteo is my son.” Though his voice remains steady, you can see a muscle in his jaw ticking from the effort of holding back more heated words.

But Dario clearly does not accept this response. His eyes narrow calculatingly as he continues scrutinizing the wailing baby. Behind him, his unhinged wife keeps up her tirade of slurs and accusations, whipping the gathering crowd into greater frenzy.

You feel lightheaded, paralyzed. This is a living nightmare. Distantly you are aware of camera phones pointed your way, capturing every wretched moment. Charles seems to realize the same, his handsome face darkening with rage.

With frightening efficiency, Charles strides directly over to the nearest paddock security officers and has a brief, terse exchange. Moments later, two bulky guards firmly take hold of the still-screaming woman and shellshocked man, forcefully escorting them away. The crowd reluctantly disperses, murmuring.

Charles immediately returns to envelope you and Matteo in a fiercely protective embrace. “It’s alright now, you’re both safe,” he soothes, though his rapid heartbeat belies his calm words. Matteo’s panicked sobs have faded to tiny hiccups against Charles’ neck.

The rest of the chaotic day passes in a blur. Much later, in the privacy of your hotel room, Charles reveals that he pulled every string and called in every favor necessary to have Dario and his deranged wife permanently blacklisted from all Formula 1 events.

His voice shakes with quiet rage as he describes how close security came to needing to restrain him physically.

Finally he takes your face so very gently in his hands. “I promise you, I will do anything and everything to protect our family. You and Matteo are my entire world. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m breathing.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you collapse against his solid chest. Charles’ strong arms anchor you in place as you cling to him. He continues murmuring fervent assurances, pressing kisses to your hair.

Despite the ugliness of the day, you know with utter certainty Charles will shield you and Matteo from the darkness of your past. Your family is still perfection in your eyes.

***

“Papa, I wanna be a race car driver like you when I grow up!”

Your five-year-old son looks up at Charles with big, adoring eyes as he makes this pronouncement over breakfast one morning.

Charles freezes with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. He slowly sets it down, gazing at Matteo with surprise and pride. “You do?”

Matteo bobs his curly head eagerly. “Yeah! I wanna drive fast cars and win like you! Can you teach me?”

Charles melts, ruffling Matteo’s hair. “Of course, buddy. We’ll have to convince your maman first though.” He shoots you a meaningful look.

You shift uncertainly. Of course you want to encourage Matteo’s interests, but motorsport is dangerous ...

Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Why don’t you think about it, mon amour? No need to decide yet.” He winks at Matteo, who grins in excitement.

Over the next few days, your two boys put on a full court press to sway you. Charles points out safety advances in karting and helps Matteo make adorable PowerPoint slides with photos of your son in race helmets. They both unleash heartbreaking puppy dog eyes.

Finally you cave. “Alright!” You laugh, holding up your hands in surrender. “You can start teaching him the basics.”

Matteo and Charles high-five so hard it makes a cracking sound. “Yesss!” Charles pumps his fists while Matteo dances in glee. Seeing their matching enthusiasm melts away the last of your reluctance. Your little daredevil was born for this.

The next weekend, Charles takes Matteo to a racetrack an hour outside the city. It’s just a small circuit, but Matteo gazes around with wide eyes, gripping Charles’ hand tightly.

Charles shows him the karts and safety gear, patiently explaining how everything works. Then it’s time. Charles helps strap Matteo into a kart made for kids, snugging his helmet gently under the chin.

“Ready, mon petit champion?”

Matteo gives him a thumbs up, practically vibrating with excitement. Charles grins and drops the visor down. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

He gives Matteo a little push to get the kart rolling onto the track. Your son quickly gets the hang of working the gas and brakes. Charles jogs alongside, gesturing and calling out instructions.

Gradually he lets Matteo take full control. Your little boy zips around the course, hair blowing out the back of his helmet. His delighted laughter echoes around the circuit.

Watching from the sidelines, Charles records it all on his phone, face alight with joy and pride. “That’s it Matteo, you’re doing amazing!” He cheers.

This is only the beginning. But seeing the utter bliss on both their faces, you know Matteo has chosen the right path. The Leclerc legacy will live on.

***

“I’m here in the pit lane with Charles Leclerc on the momentous day his son, Matteo Leclerc, makes his highly anticipated debut with Scuderia Ferrari. Charles, you must be incredibly proud right now.”

The Sky Sports reporter holds her mic out to Charles as he stands, beaming, in front of the scarlet Ferrari garage. Charles nods, looking slightly choked up.

“Incredibly proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he replies earnestly. “This has been Matteo’s dream since he was just a little boy. To see him achieve it, to be standing here watching him drive for the team I devoted my life to … it’s indescribable.”

Charles pauses, glancing over fondly at where you stand with Matteo, straightening your son’s helmet and race suit.

“His mother and I, we’ve worried and experienced every up and down along the way with him. But Matteo has worked so hard for this, never gave up even when it seemed impossible. He more than deserves today.”

The reporter smiles. “And his last name isn’t the only way he takes after you. Matteo is widely considered your protégé after you mentored him through the junior ranks.”

“I taught him everything I could,” Charles acknowledges. “But his talent and dedication are all his own. Matteo is his own man now. I can’t wait to see how high he continues to climb.”

“Any advice you’ve given him before his first race with Ferrari?”

Charles chuckles. “Just to enjoy every second. This only comes around once.” He looks off into the distance, eyes crinkling nostalgically.

“Still seems like yesterday I was in his shoes for my own Ferrari debut. I’ll never forget that feeling.”

The reporter wraps up the interview and Charles makes his way over to where you and 21-year-old Matteo are embracing. Charles’ eyes shine with unshed tears as he clasps arms with his son.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles says hoarsely. “Your mother and I both. Now go show the world what you can do.”

Matteo’s answering smile is blinding. “I’ll make you proud, Papa.”

He hugs you tight, then pulls on his helmet and strides confidently to his waiting Ferrari. The mechanics cheer as the car roars to life and Matteo peels out onto the track, on the cusp of achieving his lifelong dream.

You cling to Charles’ side, waving tearfully. “Our little boy,” you whisper in awe.

Charles wraps an arm around you, never taking his eyes off the bright red car. “He’s all grown up. But he’ll always be our son.”

No matter how high Matteo climbs, Charles knows he will always remain his sweet little boy — the bright-eyed child you and Charles raised with love.

His greatest source of pride and joy as the future beckons brightly, another generation of Leclercs carrying the hopes of Ferrari forward.

[l-crimson-l]

Ok so incoming gunpla post about tools:

So you’ve started building! It’s fun! It’s cathartic! And they look so cool!

But…

You kinda want them to look Even Cooler.

You also don’t have a ton of cash and you’re feeling intimidated by how deep this hobby can take you (you’ve seen those cool customs online). No worries! Here’s a couple cheapish (<$40) tools to help you get rolling on taking your kits to the next level.

1) Sanding Sponge/Glass File

These are great bc 1) they’re cheap and 2) do the job wonderfully. Specifically they’re for helping to remove Nub marks off the price you’ve cut from the runner. If you don’t know, Nubs are the leftover plastic still attached to the piece after you’ve clipped it from the runner, they’re important to remove bc of how the kit is engineered. Moving gimmicks or the sturdiness of the kit could be compromised if your pieces can’t fit flush.

The sponge is the cheapest option but it also runs out at some point and you’ll need to replace them. However, the glass file will simply just keep rolling. I bought mine from Newtype about a year and a half ago and it’s still doing great. I believe Walmart might have even cheaper options.

2) Gundam Marker

So you know those grooves on a part that’s sunken in? Those are called Panel Lines! Using this pen (it’s basically a Micron pen) you can color in these lines to help give your kit extra depth. This is especially great on kits that are primarily a single color with few variations (think Calibarn).

All you do is draw in your line and then wipe away with your finger or paper towel or what have you. These are super cheap and you’ll run through half a dozen or so HG’s or even MG’s before you need to think about getting a new one. With this you also don’t need to worry about top coating or being mindful about what you’re applying it over (unlike other panel liners where you need to keep some chemistry in mind).

3) Single Blade Nippers

So these are the most expensive item and while double blade nippers work absolutely, you’ll end up creating less work for yourself with single blade nippers as they can make cleaner cuts off the runner meaning you have less nub to clean up.

These ones I snagged from USA Gundam Store (they give a discount for snagging these) and they work great. Not the greatest durability over multiple kits as they really lose that initial sharpness over the first kit or two, but they stay sharp enough to do the job well. There’s several different options out there (some as expensive as $60 or so) but starting out a cheaper pair is great to have.

I used double sided nippers for the longest time but after switching I firmly believe they’re worth the extra $$ to invest in.

To elaborate on 2 bladed vs single bladed a bit: double blades cut from both sides (obviously) but what this means is that there is stress being applied to the piece from each side. This causes stress marks (if you’ve seen a white spot left behind after a clip that’s a stress mark) which either need cleaned up and painted over or it causes a crater in the part (especially easy to do when the nub is especially large) which either never gets fixed or you need to use tamiya cement to melt plastic and then puddy it innnnn and thennnnn sand everything againnnnn and it’s a pain.

Save yourself the headache. Singe blade nippers are the way. I especially hate those beginner nippers that look like this

I hope this helps you dig a little further down into the plastic crack rabbit hole! With just a little extra effort you can really make your kits pop. You can do it!

As always I really love seeing all the new people building gunpla and making it their own (special shout out to that person who bedazzled their guncannon). Love ya friendos

[sweetpeasummers]

Everything That I Want

Summary: Leon has been avoiding you and you’re worried about the reason why.

Word Count: 3.2k

Rated: Explicit (Language, Smut, Mentions of Death)

Pairing: Leon/Fem!Reader  

Author’s Note: I originally wrote this when RE4 first came out as Leon/OC, but am not comfortable uploading that. So I took my favorite bits (more to come), edited them on my own into something I’m proud to post and here we are. I will be uploading to Ao3 later.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Resident Evil nor any of the characters.

It's been a frustrating few weeks and you're trying to do anything to not think about why your partner Leon Kennedy has been avoiding you. Which is why you find yourself at the gym hoping to bench press your way into oblivion. You grip the bar, take a deep breath in, lift the bar and lower it to your chest, exhaling you push it out away from you.

One...Two...Three...Four

You set a steady rhythm desperately willing the simple act to clear your mind the way it typically does, but you feel it start to wander again. What in the hell is going? One day he was Leon your friend and partner and the next he was...gone. He hadn't returned any of your phone calls and every time you were in a room together he'd make some weak excuse as to why he had to leave. It was confusing and as time dragged on downright hurtful.

You'd always had a bit of a thing for him ever since you were first paired together, his good looks had drawn you in, but his snarky one liners and compassionate, friendly nature had endeared him to you in a way no other man ever had. Initially it wasn't easy being paired together. Leon was leery and jaded though warmed to you quickly. He threw himself into the work, you admired his drive and told him as such. Though on more than one occasion he joked about being forced into it. When you pushed for an explanation he told you everything; the outbreak in Raccoon City, the creatures he fought, and how he barely made it out. Then admitted he wasn't given a choice to become an agent. His vulnerability made you confess to your share of misery, the T-Virus leaked in your rural town. Killing reanimated corpses of the people you knew and loved was a nightmare you'd never forget. Subsequently you weren't given a choice either. Your relationship was different afterwards. You turned to each other, shared secrets, doubts, and even fears with one another. The innocent crush you had on him developed into something so much deeper. The job was brutal and having a partner you could rely on was more important than a boyfriend, so you buried those feelings. It was so damn hard because sometimes you thought he was flirting with you but chalked it up to you seeing what you wanted to see. So you stayed guarded, pulled away just enough to still be considered professional, but weren't always successful. Maybe Leon finally figured it out, caught on to the fact that you had feelings for him beyond what a friend or partner should and it freaked him out.

You hated not knowing, sighing heavily, you look up at the man spotting you. Daniel was such a nice man, one of the few agents to have a normal life outside of the insanity that was your job. He owned the gym you were in, had a wife and a little family. He was happy. One of the more well adjusted agents you'd met and couldn't help but wonder if it was because of his life outside of missions. You attempted to date but every relationship fizzled out.

“Could you add more weight please?” you ask Daniel. You hope the extra weight will make you focus. He reluctantly does, you grip the bar and lift up your hand slips and the weighted bar comes dangerously close to crushing your throat, but Dan catches it in time and together you put it back in place. You sit up breathing heavy, shaken from what just happened.

“What is going on Y/N, you look like shit?” he asks gruffly.

“Thanks I feel like shit.” you reply still trying to compose yourself.

“You wanna talk about it or do you wanna hit something” Dan asks you. You always appreciated his bluntness.

“I wanna hit something.” you quickly respond. Not even knowing where you'd begin to explain your situation with Leon with any sort of anonymity. It'd be embarrassingly obvious who you're talking about.

“I can help you with that.” Dan motions to you to follow him. He leads you down the hall to a large empty room with a ring. He throws you a pair of gloves and gets in the ring. You spend the next half hour sparring, Dan was right it did help.

“Thanks for helping me out,” you say and truly mean it. You feel less tense, like you could go home and not mope around your apartment.

“Yeah no problem,” Dan answers cheerfully, “You seem like you needed it. If you don't want to be alone you could come and have dinner with me and the Mrs. You know Julia always makes enough to feed a small army.”

It's tempting, you feel better than you did earlier, but also you know you'd still be miserable company.

“Maybe some other time, thank you for the offer.” you respond with a small smile.

“I'll hold you to that,”Dan replies.

Before you can leave, you hear a door open and footsteps approaching, Dan looks behind you and waves. He calls out “Hey Leon long time no see!”

You freeze, oh you're tense all over again, suddenly it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You hear Leon chuckle and answer with “Yeah I've been busy, had a lot to think about.”

Okay, Leon hasn't been avoiding just you it seems. You turn and see him walk closer to where you and Dan were standing. Well that's different you thought, but stay quiet whatever he was going through he'd made it clear he didn't want your help. You just look away and focus on a random spot on the wall. You tune out their conversation lost in your own thoughts. Normally Leon's presence was a comfort but now it was bringing a god awful stew of emotion you felt these past few weeks to the surface. You wanted to stay and try to talk to him again, but decide you have to go before it bubbled over and you did something embarrassing like sob or scream. You try to leave quietly, but you feel a hand softly catch you by your wrist.  You're shocked to see its Leon holding on to you. You get your first good look at him. He looks exhausted, nervous and unsure of himself.

“Y/N, please don't leave. I need to talk to you.” you hear Leon say. You pull your wrist out of his grasp and stay in place. Good or bad it seems like whatever is going on can finally be over.

“Well I don't want to keep Jules waiting so I'm going to head out, unless,” Daniel trails off looking at you with a nervous smile on his face. You look away from Leon to Dan then back to Leon and take a deep breath hoping it's enough to calm yourself before speaking,

“It's okay you can go Dan. I'm actually very curious as to what he has to say to me.” Your response does absolutely nothing to alleviate the tension in the room.

Dan breathes out a shaky “Okay, you two are the last ones in the building, you know where the keys are. Could you lock up on your way out?” Dan walks away quickly looking back and gives you both a small wave on his way out the door.

“Do you think you'd want something like that?” Leon asks you.

“Like what, you mean like what Dan and Julia have?” you ask and answer your own question. You don't give Leon a chance to respond before asking him what you've wanted to ask him for weeks.

“Leon, what's going on? Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask more hurt than you wanted spills out, perhaps the feeling hadn't completely faded. You cross your arms bracing yourself for his answer.

Leon winces before continuing, “I've been a real dick haven't I?”

You nod your head not trusting yourself to speak. Leon continues, “I'm sorry. I've gone about this all wrong. I didn't want to hurt you I just needed time to get this right.”

It feels like your head is spinning, you want to ask more questions, but you press your lips together and let him continue.

“It never felt right with anyone else and it killed me every time I saw you walk away with another man. For so long I couldn't understand why, ever since Raccoon City I've shut a part of myself down. Detached, because I thought it was the safest thing to do. It's easier. It's also pretty damn isolating. I finally figured it out. I want something more outside of just being an agent. I want something that isn't death and monsters and lies. I wanna be happy, every time I think about what that looks like it's with you. I know what I just said could make you uncomfortable and I will respect and decision you make.” he finishes breathlessly. He still looks nervous but like a weight has been lifted from him.

Your mouth falls open in shock, you slowly uncross your arms and let them fall to your sides. That he wants to be with you wasn't even in the realm of possible things you thought he might say. How could the two of you have gotten it so wrong. All this time you thought you were making him uncomfortable and he thought he was going to make you uncomfortable. You were so wrapped up in hiding your feelings you missed his right in front of you. Three years worth of memories hit you like a truck; so  many conversations, stories shared, dinners that weren't dates, shouldn't be dates but in hindsight very much were. You remember the night he admitted to you he didn't know how to keep living with what he'd been through.  You stayed with him until he fell asleep. He always returned the favor, some mornings you'd wake to the smell of coffee and his smiling face. How could you have been so blind? It didn't matter though Leon wants to be with you. You want to be with him. Happiness blooms and spreads in your chest, your lips lift in a brilliant smile. You can see the moment it clicks in Leon's head that you feel the same way he does. He's just waiting for you to say it.

“I want everything and I want it with you.” You reply. You're both so giddy you almost don't know what to do with yourselves. He steps towards you until there's the barest breath of space between your bodies. Leon is staring at your lips while slowly leaning down. Unable to speak you nod your head. He reaches his hand to cup your face and your lips meet. It's the sweetest and gentlest you've ever been kissed. You lift your hands up to hold onto to his arms afraid if you don't you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. You break apart, but he keeps his hands on your face Leon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes.

“I want you,” he whispers roughly. A different kind of tension fills the room, heat flushes through your whole body.

“Then take me.” you simply reply. “Here, now, please. You heard Dan we're the only two people in the building..” You waited years for this you don't want to wait any longer.

His eyes snap open. He pulls his head back and drops his hands to rest on your upper arms. A delicious smile spreads across his handsome face at your suggestion. You reach up to grab his hand and without a lick of shame guide him down the front of your pants to cup your warm center. You whimper, your lasciviousness sends Leon over the edge. He yanks his hand away, wraps you in his arms and kisses you. There's nothing sweet or gentle about it this time. He's desperate, like a long-lost lover coming home. You give as good as you get wrapping your arms around his neck to press yourself closer to him. You feel him half hard against your belly and gasp, Leon slips his tongue into your mouth deepening the kiss. You continue on like that for a few minutes, barely breaking apart for breath, hands roaming each other's bodies touching everything and anything you both could reach. You run a hand through his hair, down his chest, and palm his erection through his shorts.

“God yes,” he whimpers.

He pulls away from you and reaches behind  himself to yank his shirt off and throws it down on the mat. You're a bit lost at the suddenness of it but follow Leon as he pulls you down to sit on his discarded top.

Aching to touch him again, to feel his bare skin against yours, you pull your shirt up and over your head, Leon grabs it and throws it behind him. You both try and get your sports bra off but the sweat coating your body makes it difficult and your arms are sore from your punishing workout earlier. This bra ain't coming off without a fight. In your frustration you pull from the bottom up enough to free your breasts. Your spandex bottoms prove to be just as difficult, you kick a shoe off and manage to get one leg out. Leon leans back and shoves his own pants and boxers down to his knees freeing his cock. He moves to balance on one knee awkwardly struggling with his clothes. It doesn't dampen the mood as you can see his thick cock bobbing with his every movement, you're keenly aware of how empty you feel as your cunt clenches around nothing.

Once his clothes were sufficiently dealt with Leon looks down at you, eyes heavy with desire and you shiver. He pushes you gently to your back and moves to cover your body with his. Your stomach tightens as he lowers his open mouth toward your chest. He runs his teeth along a hardened nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Your head tilts back and your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. Your hands find the back of his head and hold him close to you. He switches to the other breast lavishing attention there. His other hand slips down to pull your panties aside to slide two fingers through your wetness and into your cunt, fucking you open. When he crooked his fingers just right and rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb the pleasure was so intense you felt as though you were melting, but it wasn't enough. You needed him inside of you.

“Please,” you whine “I'm ready. Fuck me.”

His mouth moves away from your breasts, “Yes ma'am” he rasps against your ear.

He takes his hand away, you look down, spread your thighs farther apart plant your feet down and see him grab his cock and guide it into you. You both groan in pleasure as he smoothly sinks all the way in and finds his rhythm thrusting into you. You'll never be able to be in the room again without thinking of the delicious feeling of Leon inside you, your soft breasts pressed against his hard chest, his ragged breathing in your ear. The wet slapping sound of your bodies meeting. You kiss every part of him you can reach. Your hands run through his hair and nails score down his back. They finally land to hold on to his shoulders. Leon Kennedy is your entire universe at this moment and nothing has ever felt more right.

He moves a hand down between to where your bodies are joined and rubs his thumb against your sensitive clitoris again, its all you need. You move to wrap your thighs around his waist, the orgasm flashes bright and fast through your body. You come hard moaning his name.

You feel him stop moving and hear him say, “Shit no condom.”

He moves back slightly, removing your legs from around his waist and back down to the mat still spread wide apart. Leon pulls out of you entirely, gripping the base of his cock tightly. Through the haze of your orgasm you realize what's happening and before he can do anything you lick your own palm, bat his hand away and make a fist around his cock. You massage and stroke the jutting flesh between his thighs while encouraging him to thrust. It doesn't take more than five thrusts before you see and feel copious amounts of thick, wet come on your belly. He groans what sounds like your name, eyes tightly shut, mouth open with the mind numbing pleasure. You let go of his softening cock and wrap your arms around him, relaxing your legs to brush against his. He sags boneless against your chest uncaring of the mess now between your bodies.

Reluctantly he rolls away from you still trying to catch his breath. You sit up, push your bra back down, find your shirt and use it to wipe the come off your stomach then move to wipe the remnants of it off of his him. Luckily you have a change of clothes in your gym bag. He mumbles a thank you before pulling you down to cuddle by his side. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.  You can't wait till the next time when you're in a place where you can both take your time to explore and luxuriate in each other's bodies. You'd never been so hot for another person that you couldn't wait till you were in a private place. The thought brings you back to reality and you tense up, remembering where you are. Leon feels your discomfort.

“You finally realize how out in the open we are, haven't you,” he chuckles a bit. Too mortified to reply you simply nod your head still holding onto him. He sits up bringing you with him. He tucks a stray bit of hair behind your ear and says, “Go home. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“Promise?” you ask, reluctant to be away from him even for a short time.

“Promise,” he breathes his answer against your kiss swollen mouth. He kisses you quickly and gets up to get dressed. You smile and do the same.

There would be consequences to what the two of you had done. A romantic relationship between agents was deeply frowned upon. Damn the consequences, you could worry about that later, besides you can't imagine Leon cares much about them either. The smile on his face echos the one on yours. Confident about the place in each other's lives the weight of life shifted, now balanced comfortably between the two of you. The odds weren't in your favor but you'd take the bad with the good as long as you had him.

[jahtrashh]

I saw your take on Zuko and like I agree so much. this fandom either idolises him or hates him and I always found that sooo weird. same goes with characters like Jet who are somehow treated like perfectly functioning adults by the fandom and held accountable of their actions as if they were grown men. and that’s so freaking weird. the point of Zuko’s redemption arc is that his arc isn’t linear, he makes mistakes, learns from it, makes up for it. as for Jet, although not a big fan of the way the writers handled his death, he’s literally being seen as an unredeemable monster, as if worse that characters like OZAI OR ZHAO by many fans and… just… how ?? why ?? they are both 16 ?? like yeah, they did so much bad stuff, they did really messed up stuff but they are also quite literally products of their environment and a freaking 100 years war. how is Zuko, fed with propaganda, on a ship since he’s 13, with a freaking general as his only paternal figure at that time, surrounded by men twice his age who are also either soldiers or at least army related, and still 16 at the time, suppose to be a “nice guy” archetype that does nothing wrong. like please be for real one second. and don’t get me started on Jet. whole village burned to the ground, orphan, had to raise so many kids, probably grew up in extreme poverty. ofc he’s messed up. ofc he’s violent, blinded by rage. but again, 16 !!! HE’S 16 !! it kills how people don’t realise that teenagers (especially teenage boys) are anything but mature, collected and emotionally rational. like bfr.

but in the atla fandom ig saying this would make me a zuko/jet apologist. whatever that means. as an adult i just see a bunch of messed up kids in the middle of the war, and that’s basically it. at best i feel bad for them, at worst i pity them.

Say it louder for the people in the back. I don’t know how to dumb it down enough for people to wrap their damn head around how these are in fact, also, teenagers involved in war. The world is in shambles during war, right and wrong are easily blurred during those times, and it takes a very special person to be able to differentiate between the sides without getting too caught up in what they believe is right or wrong.

Zuko could’ve stayed a racist, imperialist, dipshit. But by the end of the show, he turns into just a simple dipshit who accepted his life changing 180 with open arms. Yes he said some insensitive shit to aang about his beliefs and mocked his anti-violent views even when he joined them in season 3, but AGAIN, not only was he still learning how to be a decent human being, he was also blinded by his own hatred of his father, mixed with the very much pro-violent nature of the fire nation, PLUS the lack of education on Aang’s culture and philosophy which was AGAIN, taught around PRO-PA-GAN-DA the FN created. All of which, takes time to unlearn. On top of figuring himself and who he was, which is what most teenagers, more often than not will have a whole crisis about ALONE. I honestly don’t know how people expect a redemption arc to go, we’ve all had to learn how to be better about things, and the progress isn’t going to be liner nor will it always be easy. That is human nature. That is LIFE.

And on Jet’s case, why do people think it’s such a terrible thing to make some characters who were victims of war crimes, to be angry, to lust for revenge against the perpetrators, or be irrational and violent. THEY HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO. The FN took the last bit of Jet’s life that he barely even had and stripped all of that completely away from him like the savages that they are. Why is it a terrible thing to be angry at people who didn’t think twice about the families, the sense of community that his village had? I agree that Jet was going too far when he was trying to take it out on innocent people, but can you really blame him? He didn’t have an adult to help him out on the importance of emotional maturity and how to be angry at the ones who actually harmed you like Zuko did, and even if he did, teenagers won’t be emotionally matured TRULY until they develop into adults. He had to be the mock adult for the kids younger than him, he didn’t have time to decode himself and better his actions because he was too focused on protecting the freedom fighters and himself against the FN’s abuses.

People don’t realize that this is not babying them, or being so called “apologists” this is called understanding why these two are the way that they are. Why are they like this? And it’s so much to take in and talk about at once that you’d need an entire college level essay to completely break down and comprehend how deep war can affect not just adults, but teenagers and children. Those two groups don’t have true moral compasses, so the environment and circumstances can really impact and easily mold their minds to fit the standards in said situation in order to survive it. This is called self-preservation. A more than common trauma response.

I mean seriously, I heard someone say they can understand Zuko hate but not Iroh hate, when he has in fact, done much worse than Zuko has ever done in those 3 years at sea. I love Iroh, but he’s an adult, why are we choosing adults over traumatized and war-fed teenagers who mainly comply in that shit to seek approval from their actually psychotic, genocidal, narcissistic, and abusive father that would dispose of them if they didn’t fit his standards? Why are we quicker to blame the teenagedvictim of the FN’s attacks and cruelty, than the actual people, adults, who conducted the attacks?

Are we truly regressing as a fandom? The show wouldn’t give them their traumatic experiences and talk about their abusers if they wanted the viewer to antagonize the victims. Goes to show that the loudest voices screaming “irredeemable monster” and “they want people to feel sorry for him” never truly know who these characters are and how they operate, they need everything spoon fed to them which is very unfortunate. The real irredeemable monsters are right there in their face and they choose to look somewhere else.

It’s so obvious how people in this fandom pick and choose who to feel sympathy for, when they all needed it.

[hayatheauthor]

How To Hook Your Readers With Your Chapter’s Starting & Ending

The two most crucial components of a chapter are its beginning and end. The start of your chapter determines your reader’s first impression of the next stage of your book, and also helps hook them in. The ending, on the other hand, determines whether or not they will keep on reading your book and keeps them wanting more. 

A bad start or end to a chapter can potentially ruin your reader’s immersion and leave a bad impression. Want to know how to effectively start and end a chapter? Here are some tips to get you started. 

How To Start A Chapter 

The first paragraph is possibly the most important aspect of any chapter. This is the bit that hooks your reader in and convinces them to stay for the next few pages even if it’s getting late and they need to head to bed. 

Writing a good start to your chapter might feel easy enough—you just need to hook your readers, right? But there are certain techniques an author needs to keep in mind when writing a new chapter. 

How To Write A Hook 

When trying to hook your readers in here are some pointers you need to keep in mind: 

Give them some sort of action in the first paragraph. 

Write a one-liner that creates surprise, intrigue or excitement. You can add the context and description in the next few paragraphs, but the first paragraph is to ensure your readers are hooked and want to continue reading your book. 

Make them think this is an ‘important chapter’. 

To an author, chapters can’t be divided into important or unimportant because every scene is there for a reason. However, a reader who doesn’t know your book as well as you do can easily segregate scenes as boring and important. 

If a reader thinks that the next few pages are going to be a boring filler chapter they’re probably going to set down your book and come back later. This is why it’s important to show them why this chapter is important. What’s going to happen in the next few pages? Why is this situation important or significant to the plot? How does it make the story move forward? Consider the answer to some of these questions when you write your chapter’s hook. 

How To End A Chapter 

If the start of your hooks your reader in, then the end is what makes them turn to the next page. A chapter’s ending needs to provide your readers with some sense of closure while also giving them a reason to read more. This can sound complicated, but it’s easy to accomplish once you know what you’re doing. 

How To Establish Closure 

Think back to the last book you read. The chapters probably didn’t conclude with a concrete note that could be paired with a cursive the end but they certainly established some sort of closure to help wrap up the scene. 

When you write a chapter, you probably do it with a certain motive in mind. Authors often think something along the lines of ‘this chapter is supposed to accomplish this and that’ when planning a chapter, and once this is accomplished they end the chapter and move on to the next stage of their story. 

You don’t necessarily need to tie up all the loose ends and give your readers a concrete ending, but you do need to give them some sort of conclusion. 

The protagonist went back to their homeland and reached their family home safely. The antagonist snuck into the protagonist’s office and found the documents they were looking for. Give your readers some sort of ending, but also show them something to look forward to.

Following the previous examples, maybe the protagonist falls asleep knowing this is very likely the last moment of peace they will have for the rest of the week. Maybe the antagonist sneaks out with the documents, knowing they will use this to get the protagonist in trouble.

Cliffhangers 

Cliffhangers are a great way to end a chapter—they give your readers a motive to read more while also wrapping up the current scene. However, when used too frequently, cliffhangers can get boring and lose that special touch. 

So, how many cliffhangers are too many cliffhangers? 

When ending a chapter with a cliffhanger, you should first consider whether or not this actually qualifies as a cliffhanger. This might come as a surprise to some, but there is a big difference between a cliffhanger and breaking a scene into two in order to create some semblance of surprise. 

Here are some examples to help: 

A good cliffhanger: Your protagonist is ready to head to bed and nearly falls asleep, but suddenly feels uneasy. It’s then that they realise something is watching them. Or rather, someone. Except, the only problem is, they are almost certain they locked their room door and closed the curtains. So how could anyone be in their room?

A bad cliffhanger: Your protagonist is ready to head to bed and nearly falls asleep, but suddenly feels uneasy. It’s then that they realise something is watching them. Or rather, someone. It’s then that they sit up in bed and turn on the lamp on their bedside table, only to see…

The first example is an actual cliffhanger. It gives your readers a situation, builds up the stakes, and ends with a (figurative or literal) question. The second one starts the same way, but it ends by cutting a scene off halfway. That is an example of a redundant cliffhanger that an author is likely to use too many times for no reason. 

Starting Or Ending The Chapter Based On The Setting

As mentioned at the start, it’s important to know how to write a chapter’s starting or ending based on the setting and mood. 

Small factors such as word choice, pacing, the length of your sentences, etc. heavily impact the mood of your chapter. A chapter that jumps straight into a fight scene can’t start the same way as a chapter where the main character wakes up from a coma. 

The first step to writing a good beginning to your chapter is figuring out the tone you are aiming for. Do you want to sound urgent, fast-paced and make your readers feel tense? Do you want to create a calm and comfortable environment to make your readers feel as safe as your protagonist? 

Once you know your tone, you should customise your writing style to curate the perfect experience for your readers. You can read some of my previous blog posts to learn more about how to do this. 

I hope this blog on how to hook your readers with your chapter’s starting & ending will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

Want to learn more about me and my writing journey? Visit my social media pages under the handle @hayatheauthor where I post content about my WIP The Traitor’s Throne and life as a teenage author. 

Copyright © 2022 Haya Sameer, you are not allowed to repost, translate, recreate or redistribute my blog posts or content without prior permission

[themadlostgirl]

B&B: Cooking Lessons

*I FORGOT I HAD THIS PROMPT IN MY ASKS! I AM SO SORRY! Better late than never at least.*

Prompt: More funny Felix x Reader Storybrooke AU shenanigans. Title says it all.

~~~

“Darling,” Felix reached past you to turn off the tv, “It’s three.”

“No!” you flopped over on the couch. “I don’t wanna go!”

“It’s not that bad. Stop complaining and let’s get this over with.” he tried to pull you off the couch. You held onto the armrest, refusing to budge. “Stop being a brat! Come on!”

“Never!”

“For the love of god. Fine. You force my hand.” he let go of your leg and started tickling your sides.

“No fair!” you shrieked with laughter. You tried to swat his hands away but he took the opportunity to grab you and pull you off the couch. “That was low, Felix.”

“And you’re being dramatic.” he pulled you along out of the apartment. You knocked on the apartment door of Snow and David.

Snow greeted you with a bright smile. “Come in you two. Ready for your cooking lesson?”

“Snow, I am going to be straight with you. I think you need to give up on trying to teach us to cook.” you told her. “I am perfectly content living off of Granny’s lasagna and toaster waffles.”

“Ignore her.” Felix pulled you inside. “She’s been in a mood all day.”

“You’re fine learning how to cook. Why do I have to learn too?” you whined as you were tossed an apron.

“Cause I am not going to be the sole person cooking the meals around the house. This is easier than back on Neverland, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. It’s not like we have to skin anything or butcher it. It all comes pre-packaged.”

“I liked cooking on Neverland better because it was just stick the meet in fire till it is brown. That’s all it had to be. Now we have to saute shit. What the hell is saute!”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we are not going to be sauteing anything today.” Snow assured you. “And cooking is an essential life skill. Even if it is something simple you need to be able to prepare food for yourself.”

“Fine. What are we making?” you gave in and accepted your doom.

“Well, considering that we had a problem last week when we tried to make risotto I thought we would bring it down to something hopefully a little easier. We are going to make muffins.”

“That sounds easy, right?” Felix eyed you. You rolled your eyes. You weren’t holding out hope.

“I found a simple recipe. I already got out all the supplies, you guys just need to follow the directions.” she gestured to the various ingredients scattered around the kitchen. “Now, you guys have come a long way since we started so I am going to let you take the reins. If you have any questions feel free to ask but I am going to stay out of your way.”

“Joy.” you turned to the recipe. It didn’t look complicated but you were a disaster in the kitchen. Why couldn’t they just accept that?

“Preheat oven to 400 degrees.” Felix went to the oven and turned it on. “Okay. Next we need to line a muffin tin with liners.”

“Line a what with what?”

“I’m guessing they mean this.” Felix picked up a tray with various divots in it. Next to them were a package of little paper liners.

You lined the tray with the liners while Felix measured out the ingredients. “Next we need to mix the milk, vegetable oil, and egg in one bowl and the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a bigger bowl.”

“Okay.” you took the ingredients he handed you and dumped them in their respective bowls. This wasn’t too bad so far.

“Now we mix in the wet ingredients with the dry ones. Once those are blended we add the chocolate chips.” Felix instructed. Felix poured the ingredients together and began mixing. You handed him the chocolate chips to add and started picking at the leftovers in the bag.

“What next?” you asked.

“How about you read it.” he handed you the card.

“We gotta spoon the batter into the cups to two thirds full. Then it says we need to mix together some white sugar and brown sugar to sprinkle on top.”

“Alright. I’ll start spooning. You mix the sugar.”

“Okay.” You went to grab the sugar.

Snow’s phone started ringing. “I gotta take this. You guys are doing great though. I’ll be in the other room for a minute.”

“Got it.” Felix said, carefully spooning batter into the cups.

You mixed together the topping and turned around to hand it to Felix. You slipped on a bit of milk that got spilt on the ground though. The bowl of sugar in your hands flew out and dumped all over Felix. “I am so sorry!”

He turned to you deadpanned, crystal sugar glittering in his hair. “Really?”

“I didn’t mean to.” you couldn’t help laughing though. He shook the sugar out of his hair like a dog shaking off water.

“Oh no, it’s fine.” he dipped a hand in the flour and tossed it at you. It hit you right in the face. “Now we’re even.”

“You jerk! Mine was an accident!” you wiped the flour from your face. Now your shirt was covered in it too.

“What are you gonna do about it?” he smirked.

You grabbed the wooden spoon off the table. “Oh I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do about it.”

“Stand back.” he grabbed the bag of flour. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Felix!” you warned. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t you!”

You were in a stand off up until the oven dinged to let you know it was preheated. The sudden sharp noise made you jump and you turned instinctively to see what caused it. In the split second you realized your mistake and felt a handful of flour hit the back of your head. You turned back and Felix was wearing a shit eating grin.

Oh that was it! You chucked the spoon at him and grabbed the sugar off the counter to throw back while he was distracted. You chased him around the table throwing handfuls of sugar at him as he tried to dodge and fired back with handfuls of flour.

You were making another lap around when Felix suddenly changed directions and came running straight at you. He caught you with one arm and dumped the rest of the flour directly on top of your head. “You little--” you had run out of sugar. You reached for the closest thing you could grab which in this case was the carton of eggs and smashed one on his head.

The cold slimy yolk running down his neck was enough to get him to drop you. You grabbed the entire carton and readied another egg. “Darling, out the eggs down.” he told you, hands up. “We had our revenge no need for more destruction.”

“Should have thought about that earlier.” you chucked another egg at him. He dodged out of the way and it sailed past him. “Get back here and take it like a man!”

You threw another and another trying to hit him as he dodged around the apartment.

“Alright guys I’m--” Snow stepped back into the room just as you threw another egg and hit her in the chest. “Ow! Hey!” She looked around at the mess the two of you had created. You had only seen Snow angry one other time and had forgotten just how scary she could be. This quiet rage settled on her as she wiped the egg from her formerly pristine baby blue sweater.

“What the hell happened to my kitchen?! What did you two do!” she gestured to floor and yourselves. “I was gone for five minutes! This place is a wreck!”

“Sorry.” You and Felix muttered. “Things got a little out of hand.”

“A little!” she made another grand gesture to the flour, sugar and eggs splattered and dumped everywhere. At that moment David returned with Emma and Henry. They took one look at the mess, the state of you and Felix, and the rage on Snow’s face and wordlessly backed out of the room.

Snow turned back to you two. “You are going to clean this place spotless and then go back into town and buy me back all the ingredients you wasted.”

“That’s fair.”

“You also don’t get to have any of the muffins.”

“What!”

“Neither of you deserve muffins after this! Now get cleaning!” she shoved the broom and paper towels into your hands. She finished filling the muffins and set them in the oven to bake while you and Felix cleaned.

By the time the muffins were out of the oven you had swept up all the flour and sugar as well as scrubbed the egg off the walls. The pair of you were still a mess but the apartment was clean again at least. Snow sent you off to wash up and get changed before heading out to the store.

You and Felix didn’t talk but each time you looked at each other you had to suppress a laugh. Still better than the risotto disaster.

You came back to the apartment with the replacement ingredients. Snow, David, Emma and Henry were relaxing in the living room munching on the muffins you had made. At least they had turned out okay.

You set the groceries down and apologized again for the mess. Snow forgave you and thanked you for the groceries. “For what it’s worth, the muffins came out perfectly.”

“Isn’t that swell.” you looked at them in envy. They looked so good too.

You and Felix returned to your apartment and saw a pair of muffins on your coffee table. Guess that was heroes for you. You slumped back on the couch with Felix, muffin in hand. “You know, despite the whole mess part, that wasn’t a terrible cooking lesson.”

“I thought the mess part was the most fun.” he ruffled your hair. You took a bite and sighed. They were really good.

[ridley-was-a-cat]

What I Watched This Fortnight – 9/17- 9/30

Space Adventure Cobra – RetroCrush added this to their streaming catalog just as everyone was posting their remembrances after the mangaka passed away, so I figured I should probably see what it was about. What I got was a interstellar romp featuring a blond-haired frat boy with a gun-arm and a smorgasbord of comic book villains and nearly naked women that entertained me despite my better judgement. It’s directed by Osamu Dezaki, with all the pastel freeze frames and three pans he was known for, and still looks pretty darn good for a 40-year-old anime. If you’re ever in the mood for a turn-your-brain-off sort of adventure peppered with smugly delivered one-liners, this should deliver the goods. 7/10

Project Blue Earth SOS – I found this one night while randomly poking around Crunchyroll’s library, and it’s a nice little retro-futuristic sci-fi that’s much better than its MAL score lets on. It’s set around the year 2000 in an alternate timeline Earth where humanity has developed powerful engines that allow for near-light speed travel, leading them to be targeted by an alien civilization bent on subjugating the planet. Rising up in opposition are two brilliant teenagers, one the son of the manufacturer of the powerful engines, and the other the son of astronauts killed in a space disaster years earlier, who work together with a quasi-governmental secret agency to drive them away. The art style is vibrant and colorful with a delightfully 1950s ray gun sci-fi vibe, and the story had lots of twists and turns and revelations straight out of a midcentury B-movie. 7/10

Initial D: Extra Stage – This two-episode OVA follows the driver of the blue Sileighty from Usui Pass as she faces down a challenge on the road and one in her love life. The first episode, Beyond Impact Blue, has her racing one of the Lan Evo drivers from the Emperors after he insults female drivers as a whole and challenges her to what he assumes will be an easy race for him. The second episode, Sentimental White, has her go on a date with one of the divers from the Night Kids, who suggests that he would want his girlfriend to give up a dangerous hobby like street racing, leading her to do some thinking about her life. I didn’t feel like the racing was as exciting as it was in the main series, and I don’t love this mangaka’s approach to writing female characters or romance content, but I did like watching Mako take control and set a path for herself. 7/10

Space Dandy – I don’t know what took me so long to watch this series, as an episodic space comedy directed by Shingo Natsume featuring dozens of top-tier animators and guest directors is completely my kind of food. It starts off a little dubiously with the title character monologuing about tits and asses before heading off to his favorite breastaurant, Boobies, but it was hard to stay mad at this charming idiot blundering his way around the galaxy with his talking vacuum cleaner robot sidekick and alien cat freeloader, Meow. Some of the episodes were fantastic sci-fi short stories that packed a ton of worldbuilding and creativity into 20 minutes, and others were just sort of okay monster-of-the-week episodes, with a thread of a overarching plot loosely connecting them. The art and animation varied a bit depending on who worked on the episode, but on the whole, it was very good work and a lot of fun to watch. 8/10

Gunbuster – The old anime nerds have been talking up this series ever since Discotek licensed it, and Crunchyroll added it to their catalog this week, so I watched it. If you watched Aim for the Ace and thought to yourself that it would be better if it had more mechs and titty fanservice, this is the show for you. The first episode is an almost frame-for-frame homage to the beginning episodes of Aim for the Ace, which is kind of amusing when all the girls were training to be mecha pilots to fight the alien horde. It had some solid space fights and substantial sci-fi scenarios, and I appreciated how big the stakes felt. I only wish there were fewer lovingly animated bouncing titties. 7/10

Sasaki and Miyano: Graduation – This is one of those movie sequels to a series that’s kind of hard to put a rating on. On the one hand, it’s more of the story I enjoy with the characters I love, and it’s great to see some of the moments I remember from the manga animated and acted out. On the other hand, however, it’s not structured like a movie in the least, and runs through the material pretty quickly, leaving the viewer little time to take in what they’ve seen. It’s basically just two more episodes smooshed together without an opening or ending song. If you like the series, you’ll like this, but it’s not a movie-length story with a dramatic arc that stands alone. 8/10

[umichenginabroad]

Week 7: Sustainability in Madrid - Pt. 2

Hello and welcome back! As promised, I have compiled a list some of my favorite ways to travel and live sustainably. These are some of the things that I did when I was in Madrid and traveling around to reduce my impact.

Bringing my water bottle with me – This might seem most obvious, as most people at Michigan already bring their own bottles to class, but it’s important – most of the waste of a plastic bottle occurs upstream before you even buy it! Madrid has some of the BEST tap water in the world, and you can find drinking fountains everywhere around the city that consistently have good water. Even the bathroom tap water is good!

Reusing jars – I unfortunately did forget my reusable “ziploc” bags for snacks and things, so I started collecting jars. Yogurt containers are great for storing any leftovers, and any glass jar makes for a great coffee mug!

Using your own coffee cup – I was unsure if they would allow it, but my favorite coffee shop let me use my own jar for coffee. This is a great way to stay circular and limit your waste impact! Most of the time coffee is a social outing, so you use the glassware there. But for those caffeine pick me ups between class I would always have a jar on me. Fun fact, most paper coffee cups aren’t even recyclable because they have a plastic liner on the inside :(

Walk – The beauty of living in a big city, especially Madrid, is that everything is walkable. Madrid is considered a 15 minute city, meaning everything you could need is only a 15 minute walk or bike ride away. I even opted to walk to class because it was more efficient than taking the metro. 

Compost – Don’t forget to compost your food scraps! Madrid has a really good waste system, so it’s really easy to compost and recycle everything.

Fruit stands – I love that it is super easy to find fresh produce (and mostly locally grown) produce on every corner. Instead of buying fruit at a Día or Carrefour (the most commonly found supermarkets), opt to support the local economy and get any produce from your favorite fruit stand. Just make sure to politely let them know that you want to skip the plastic bag!

Tote Bags – this is an essential item, and it’s easy to pack! This is multifunctional and is great for groceries, school, a picnic, or just a day bag in general. Heads up, they charge you for plastic bags in Spain, so this is a great alternative.

Picnic lunch – I happened to have a little break between my classes, so I would bring my lunch (in one of my reused containers of course) and find a nearby park to decompress and refuel.

Clothes – Fast fashion is everywhere in Spain, and I beg of you to resist the temptation, (trust me) don’t buy from companies like Zara or Bershka if you can avoid it! If you forgot something, or are in the shopping mood, check out the vintage stores in Malasana, or find a Humana (there are so many of these) instead. 

Traveling – If you plan on traveling for a weekend, opt to take a train if possible. Prices will be cheaper if not the same as a flight, and oftentimes trains are a much more efficient even if the journey is a little longer. Plus, you don’t have to worry about luggage fees etc. Madrid has two stations, and I recommend using Omio or Trainline for booking trips. If I haven’t convinced you already, traveling by train also reduces your carbon footprint substantially!

Packing up and Leaving – instead of throwing away things like non-perishable foods, clothing, or household goods, find a local charity or ask the school if you can donate things for future students!

Picture 1 - Staying hydrated and enjoying the view of the Clerigos tower in Porto, Portugal. Picture 2 - I loved bringing my tote bag with me everywhere. I could carry my water, a fan, and my wallet. An added bonus: it's easy to keep close to you, so the risk of being pickpocketed is significantly lower. Lucky to say I haven't had any issues with this!

These are just a few tips on how to reduce your impact abroad, or even things you can do back in Ann Arbor! Remember that sustainability is going to look different for everyone. We don’t need everyone doing zero waste perfectly, but a lot of people working to make small changes to their current habits. I hope you learned something new and try these recommendations out! Good luck, you’ve got this :)

[starsailorstories]

⭐!

The two umbrali were holding hands still when the interstellar liner left the barge and they watched their starry home fade to white in Jenya sunshine. (By that time they were more than friends–to find a name for what they were, one had to turn to poetry.) They let go, of course, when the bell rang; the power couple they were sworn to were en route to their new proving ground in the Rings, where several noble ladies were considering investing with them.

“It’s cold, out here in space,” her soft clear voice would come up from the bunk beneath in the lower decks. “I’d forgotten how cold it was. Are you cold, senneta?”

And she’d say to her, “Come on up here already, don’t make a wretch of yourself.”

(The bunk gave space enough for them to lie shoulder to shoulder, but they would face each other anyway, veils rippling minutely in each other’s breath, fingers clasped over fingers between the warmth of their two bodies.)

“Back in programming,” the girl said to her on one of those too-brief nights, “I met a secondhand who’d worked with units from the invention lots.”

“No–you can’t have,” she gasped. “They’d be long gone by now.”

“She was old, and knew them when she was young. Do you know what they told her?”

These questions always made her want to squirm, but she held still. Held breath. (Held her hand.)

“The clone-makers didn’t make the first seed-cores. There were no lux yet for them to come from. They came from astraeas, proper ones I mean.”

“Now don’t go telling your awful tales!” She pushed her double’s shoulders slightly back across the sheet. One of them had to keep them true in the orbits, and that was her of course, the elder. (In the back of her mind, it made a lot of sense. You can’t make something out of nothing.)

“My awful tales are always true, senneta. You know how sorry I am that they are. You bear it to be part of something beautiful. But nothing’s beautiful enough to make it right. Lux are manufactured to suffer so everyone else can have it good.”

With all her strength, she turned over and away, so she wouldn’t have to look her in the absence of her face. “Our ladies suffer too, don’t they? They work hard. They stay awake all night–and–and worry so much about impressing all those people–”

“And if they fail, they’ll lose their ship and their money. But we’ll lose our honor and our homes, senneta. They have sisters to go back to. Shamed, but they can go back.”

“So can we.”

“Yeah, to the extraction queue. Nobody wants an ex-umbralis for a factory line. Face it, it’s this or nothing.”

(She wanted to say, so what are you going to do about it, tough tank? But to be honest she was scared of the answer.)

“What are you saying then, about the invention lots? That the clone-makers killed people?”

“Not with their own hands. There was a war, something about a shipyard. The old tribes on this planet betrayed the aula’s word. It was way off in the Soneto quad…” She paused. (She knew what she was waiting for, and turned back over to face her.) “Ashtiva,” she said, breathing out the name–the first time–that so lent itself to sighs. “That’s where we’re from.”

“I’m from Lapidary Street Biochem,” she couldn’t help but smirk, though her smirk was full of warmth.

“Originally though. The raw bit that got you started.”

“What’s it matter, what planet it came from? It’s just deuterium and carbon. Stuff the universe is made of. I was on spectrogram duty in the factory, you can’t dazzle me as easy as a clientela,” she teased desperately–trying to drag them off the precipice of knowledge, a place she already spent, she worried, too much time. Her lady had her arranging steel spans into ever-larger squares, testing which would conduct charges at the required strength. Sometimes, when the great minds of the new era had gone to bed refusing her assistance in frustration, she kept it up (unshaken by her flagging wakefulness, pushed ahead by something not unlike the static in the air between her hand and another hand just like it).

(Maybe it all came down in the end to forms of electricity.)

@onwardmotley Boy did I worry about this one. Even though I'd say the thing I'm interested in as a writer is the emotional/psychological component of political awakening, scenes where characters bluntly state the conditions they live in give me hives, because I don't want them to feel artless or preachy. On the other hand, bluntly stating the reality of their situation in an attempt to persuade someone they care about to follow them into action is something people do. So I don't think it's good to never do it.

There's a lot of lux-subculture stuff in here, illustrating the shared history between them. "The invention lots" is a euphemism for the first clones, developed directly from the core matter of dead and dying Ashtivans. "The clone-makers killed people?" strikes me as such a tragic question because of course they kill people every single day the factories operate--new clones couldn't be made without the quasi-voluntary deaths of clones who "failed" (the industry can do more with less now than it could at the beginning, such that each clone who dies in the proscribed way provides seed core-matter for dozens more, but it still is absolutely dependent on violence). Their lives are framed in a certain way to them and they see the value of those lives, even to themselves and one another, as conditional. The references to factory upbringing, considered a very taboo subject for discussion with "proper" astraeas, are another thing I really hope will illustrate their intimacy on a second read.

The "for that, you had to turn to poetry" is one of several winks to something I wanted to explore a LOT more in this but, alas, plot. (Worldbuilder's curse lol.) Rivet looks and feels very traditionally feminine to earthling eyes and her being an engineer seems like a non-traditional swerve, TO US. But in Basilean culture and folklore, planet-bound engineer and shipyard mechanic are classically feminine professions associated with a certain flavor of daintiness and formality. "Bold helmsmaiden/trusty little home-port engineer" is one of Thee classic romantic dynamics, and it's made reference to throughout the story. So yes, in some ways Rivet's kind of an in-universe tradfem, although I think it's clear in every scene she's in that she don't take nothing from nobody. I feel like I've talked about it before but similar to some of what I do with Shade I wanted to let her love of tradition, her love of being a continuation of something very old, just be what it was without defensiveness/acting like others were in the wrong for questioning the ideology behind it, but also show her navigating it and integrating it with a materialist and dialectical understanding of the world. A big theme in this story is Rivet claiming her erased Ashtivan heritage, which is of course a whole other world of traditions to explore as she questions the traditions of the colonizing cultures.

[drurrito]

pray they don't forget my name

a/n: I'm still sorry lol

other works in this universe

summary: Steve comes back alone, Natasha needs to find out what went wrong.

warnings: cursing, torture (waterboarding, lil bit of body-horror), blood, injuries

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

“Steve,” Natasha takes a slow step towards a man who looks hollow, “what happened?” 

“I tried to stop her,” Steve gives a pathetic smile, Natasha’s stomach is in knots. She wants to yell at him, grab him and shake him to tell her what happened to you but that won’t do anything, that won’t bring you back.

“Steve,” she tries again, heels digging in to stop the avalanche of emotions from coming out, “what happened to y/n?”

“She’s gone, HYDRA took her,” he looks out at the sun-soaked patio. Everything outside the window is green, blooming and bright. Right across from him, Natasha just stands there, fighting to stay on her feet even though everything in her is telling her to crumple into some pitiful heap on the ground.

“Bucky was there too, she saw him,” Steve’s jaw is tight, muscles bulging from having to work to keep him together. “She brought him back…she brought him back and I couldn’t…I couldn’t get to her in time,” his voice breaks, it honest to gods breaks and that rattles Natasha in a way that she didn’t think was possible.

You probably would have cringed over Steve’s emotions, making some stupid one-liner about how you’ll have to swoop in and save the day and you’d go do it, you’d actually do it.

But you’re not here. You’re not here and you should be. 

You probably thought you were being so cool running up to rescue The Winter Soldier, convinced that you were going to have the upper hand on Bucky and every HYDRA agent that likely swarmed you as soon as you were made. 

Now you’re gone and Natasha needs to get you back, by any means necessary.

“Bucky is in the tank right now,” Steve tears Natasha away from her inner monologue, “Tony and Bruce are working on getting him lucid long enough to tell us where y/n could be.”

“I’m gonna fix this, we’re gonna get y/n back,” it’s more of a promise to himself than to Natasha, but she still hears it.

“I know,” she nods and pulls him in for a hug. They both cling to one another, keeping the other steady. Natasha takes a page from your book and takes a deep breath to push down what’s welling inside of her.

She told you she’ll keep showing up for you, and she will, no matter what.

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

Your wrists are torn and bleeding above you, but the sting of the punch to your face every now and then distracts you from that pain.

“Talk,” the man cracks his knuckles, ready to deliver another punch, maybe to the gut this time. You’ve either been dead quiet or rambling about nonsensical things that had nothing to do with your team. It’s been the same song and dance for the past few days. You talk a bunch of shit and he gives you just as much.

Nothing you can’t handle, though.

“My therapist can’t even get me to open up, you’ve got no shot,” you spit blood in his general direction and he rears back for another punch, you’re glad you didn’t take bets on him hitting your gut.

“I’ve been too nice,” he cracks his knuckles again and yanks you down from the ceiling to push you into a chair nearby. He ties your legs to the chair before walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a few ‘tools’.

“One last chance, on your own accord, tell us what you know about the Avengers.”

“I know we have some pretty cool merchandise you can get at your local comic book store.”

The man’s boot is quick to make enemies with your chest and put you on your back. He looms over you for a few seconds before a towel blocks your view.

“You want to keep playing games? Fine, let’s play,” you don’t get to quip before you’re suffocated by water rushing through the towel. You twist your head every which way to find some air when you run out of breath. He lets up for a minute before starting again, you do this dance for another five minutes before the towel is snatched off of your face. That was easy enough, there’s worse things than waterboarding.

“You are not made of steel, you’ll crack soon enough,” the man promises, too busy heating a jagged dagger with a blowtorch to catch your rolling eyes.

“I didn’t know Fisher-Price made torture devices,” you sneer--he laughs--a booming belly laugh bounces off the walls of the room until it dies like most things do in a place like this.

“You’re lucky we have to keep you alive, I’m going to have so much fun-” he disappears behind you, “when I finally get to rip you limb from limb.”

Searing pain shoots from your legs and ignites your whole body, you don’t recognize yourself from the guttural screams leaving your throat. He laughs louder as he cuts deeper into your achilles heels until he finally stops, you’re still screaming long after it’s over. 

“You sound much better when you sing for me,” he grins at your slumped form, you’re too wiped out to speak now.

He kicks your chair and the vibrations against your legs makes you grunt pathetically.

“Enough singing, I wanna hear you talk now,” he crouches down in front of you, waving the glowing dagger in front of your face.

“My fucking legs,” you gargle,  the pain is still coursing so strongly through your body it makes your mouth water.

“My legs! Oh!” he mocks, disappearing behind you again, you didn’t expect him to untie your legs. Then again, they’re not much use now, anyway.

“Tell you what, you make it to the door, you’re free to go,” he heads over to the door and opens it, gesturing wildly with the still-hot knife.

You don’t move, it’s not like you can with much success. Just one step and you’d faceplant into the concrete floor for his entertainment.

“Come on, what are you waiting for? Avengers are supposed to be resilient! Hard-headed and stupidly courageous!”

He was right, you think about what your teammates would do in your place. Steve’s arms are so ridiculously big and strong he could probably just out-run this bozo on his hands. Wanda is as deadly as she is beautiful, she would hardly have to lift a finger to keep herself from ending up in the same place as you. Tony, Bruce, everyone would have been much better off than you are now. 

Natasha-

Natasha.

Shit--no, you can’t think about her being like this. You can’t handle that.

You can’t handle this.

You were careless, you’ll admit it.

But you brought Bucky back to Steve, you’ll call that a win any day, even if it might be your last.

“You know what, we’re done for the day. I’m actually going to leave this door unlocked, shake things up, you know?” he laughs again as he cleans up.

“If you can make it past the door, the guards and dogs, the maze of hallways and the snipers in the towers around the very, very tall walls we have around this place, then you’ve earned your freedom,” he’s howling with laughter now, you clench your jaw so tight you feel your teeth crack.

“Goodnight, stupid Avenger, I’ll see you in the morning,” the man slips out of the door and you’re left there in the darkness. When you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, you finally slump down.

Despite the circumstances, you refuse to cry.

next part

[thefanficmonster]

Heyyy can you do a headcanon with penguinz0 where his s/o comes out to him a bisexual :)

Of course, hun! Hope you enjoy the headcanons 💕

Pairing: Penguinz0 x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Mild Nervousness/Anxiety prior to coming out

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

- You and Charlie have been together since senior year in high school

- Since then you've had a lot of figuring out to do

- Neither of you stayed the same after graduating, of course, you both started being more mature and serious about your relationship and about life in general

- You worked on finding yourselves and understanding what made you you

- It wasn't easy, the journey of self-discovery is a difficult one, one people don't usually know how to start

- But you knew exactly what would be your first step of the way, accepting your sexuality

- Having moved out of your parents' house at nineteen when you and Charlie skipped state to go to college where you moved in together, you were no longer worried about their reaction

- You have a stable job and steady income that you can always rely on, no matter how south things go

- To be perfectly honest, you weren't too worried about Charlie's reaction

- Ok, you were pretty nervous to tell him that you'd finally found a name to your attraction, which is bisexual, but you knew there was no reason to be

- He's the most chill person you've ever met and, despite his demeanor, he's the biggest softie but that's only reserved for you

- He's also one of the most open-minded people ever so with all the pieces put together the end result confirmed that you had nothing to worry about

- But you couldn't help yourself

- You knew it'd keep eating away at you until you told him

- So when you did sit him down to talk, you couldn't bring yourself to beat around the bush cause you'd be the one to get mentally beaten up in the process

- “Ok so...I’m bisexual....”

- Charlie looked confused and not confused as to you being bisexual but regarding the fearful glint in your eyes

- “And?” Was his reply

- He honestly expected you to be breaking up with him or telling him that there was a spider in the bathroom, either or

- You know, he expected to have his world shattered

- Just as you were about to speak up again he beat you to it, “Wait, did I make you realize how men are trash?”

- This made you laugh before you could stop yourself with the reminder that his had to be a serious conversation

- “No, you dumbass. I just thought I’d let you know. I mean, I’ve known since high school I just never thought it was an actual thing. Maybe the girls in the halls were just beautiful and I was simply acknowledging that but...”

- “But you were attracted to them, and that’s perfectly fine.” Charlie caught the sentence where you trailed off with it, “I don’t know how you thought I’d react. Something along the lines of: You shall go to the praying closet this instant, Y/N L/N!”

- There he went cracking you up again

- “Chill, Margaret White. Remind me to never watch ‘Carrie’ with you ever again.” You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, the result of your laughter and relief

- “No, but jokes aside, I will support you always, with everything and anything! I never want to see you that freaked out to tell me anything ever again. If it’s a problem, we’ll fix it together. If it’s something personal like this, I accept confessions like a fucking priest. So, never, ever again, hesitate when you have something weighing on your chest.”

- All you could do was nod, that feeling of a boulder being lifted off your shoulder being overwhelmingly relieving

- Before you knew it you had pressed your lips to his and he happily reciprocated

- When your lungs started complaining at the lack of air, you were forced to pull away

- And you decided for the last one-liner to be yours

- “Oh and about what you said - you’re too sexy to be a priest.”

[trainsinanime]

With regards to Chloé

I am enjoying the back-and-forth about Chloé on my dash, even through all the tangents, but I also feel like it isn’t actually that obscure.

Chloé is an abuser. She is callously cruel to anyone she can. And she is that way because she desperately wants the approval of her mother, who is also a callously cruel abuser. Chloé is both a perpetrator and a victim at the same time.

I don’t think that’s really in doubt, the question is just which part you focus on. This is mostly up to you, as the show doesn’t have a consistent tone here. Chloé is placed on very different points of the “ridiculous villain” to “poor little meow-meow” scale depending on what each episode needs. 

Somewhere around 95% of the debates here discuss facts that happened in episodes when they should really discuss the tone of the episodes. Chloé was portrayed as downright evil. Then Chloé was portrayed as confused and insecure, using evil to hide that. Then Chloé was cruel and selfish again. Then she was heroic. And then she was confused again, and then she was cruel again. Which of this is the true Chloé, and which of this is an aberration? Well, all and none of them. The show picks the facet of Chloé it needs per episode. And you get to project your own feelings onto her, of course.

The part where she’s given the bee miraculous is a good example of that. Chloé is objectively heroic during that phase. She’s a good fighter. She’s also selfish, and she’s being heroic for selfish reasons. There’s two options here: Either you say her heroism doesn’t count because she’s selfish. Or her selfish heroism is the first step to becoming a full-on hero. Either fits, and different episodes will lead you to very different answers, depending on whether we focus on her trying to protect Sabrina (a little bit), or the nonsense with her bee signal. I think those two parts are a consistent characterisation, but they’re tonally completely at odds. Which part you latch on to is largely up to you personally.

Apart from that, I also think there’s confusion around the term “redemption”. Whether Chloé was ever on something at least paralleling a redemption arc depends largely on how you define that, but nobody ever does, as if “redemption”, “good” or “evil” were simple obvious concepts. Very annoying.

I would argue that there is absolutely a plausible way to read the path Chloé is on as a redemption arc if you want to (but also you don’t have to). But it isn’t a redemption arc like Zuko from ATLA. Seriously, stop comparing her to him. Yes, we all love him, but both the show and his character are constructed completely differently right from the start. 

The character you should be comparing Chloé to is Cordelia Chase from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She’s functionally exactly the same character: Rich bitch, an occasional obstacle for the non-magical part of the plot, and here to deliver casually cruel one-liners. Chloé is more extreme/cartoonish, but they’re really just the same girl.

And Cordelia does get what could be described as a redemption arc: She becomes a part of the team, helps with fighting monsters, dates Xander for no discernible reason, gets transferred to a spin-off show, and then gets done absolutely dirty by that. Throughout the show, she becomes gradually much nicer, leaves her toxic girl crew and so on. However, for a really long time, she also stays a bit shallow, materialistic, and sometimes cruel, and it takes a long time for her to really admit she likes the other members of her gang. Her cruelty at that point is largely played for laughs, though.

That is a conceivable path for Chloé to take. Not Zuko, she doesn’t have any of his sincerity. By now it’s clear that she is not going to do it exactly like Cordelia did, at least not the easy way. But there is a reason why folks don’t see “she’s a high-school bully” and “she can be redeemed even without becoming super-nice” as mutually exclusive.

The real problem for me remains that the show isn’t really great at anything that isn’t Love Square adorableness, and Chloé’s arc is one of the main victims of that. Most of the time, it just doesn’t happen at all. But that’s a whole other thing.

Chloé is evil. Chloé could be better. Which side you focus on is up to you, because the show certainly doesn’t keep a consistent tone when it comes to her.

[nctsjiho]

Your Fault

warnings: strong language, consumption of alchol, mention of death without actual death, very much angst

era: July 7th 2021

❀ NCT 127's 5th anniversary isn't a day to celebrate and be happy for everyone

To Doyoung:

“Happy 5th anniversary oppa!”

“I hope you and the boys are having a great time <3”

JiHo stared at her phone intently waiting for the “sent” at the bottom of her screen to turn into “read”. She had been staring at her phone like that for nearly an hour, yet nothing changed. The girl knew that the boys were busy, but somewhere she hoped that she’d hear from them. Besides the short “wished you could be with us” message she had received the evening before from Taeyong she hadn’t heard from anyone else. Of course JiHo was aware that the boys were busy, but was it a crime to feel left out and maybe want a phone call or something more than a “wished you could be with us” from anyone?

And so JiHo continued to stare at her phone, everything on the small screen getting progressively more blurry as time went on. Her eyes were straining, one almost pressed shut, the other slowly going cross-side. Her right hand, which wasn’t holding the phone, reached out to the glass bottle on her desk. A quick shake letting her know it was empty. So she reached for the other one, opening it skilfully with one hand – like she did with the other two bottles now empty on her desk – and bringing it up to her lips. “Must be nice hm~ Being an idol or whatever…”

“I’m glad you came over.” Sihyun, JiHo’s Esteem manager that lives with her, said as she grabbed the boy’s coat off his shoulders. The piece of clothing, along with his hair, slightly damp caused by the light drizzle outside. “JiHo’s been a bit sensitive and doesn’t let me in her room. She doesn’t want to talk to me at all.” Jaemin watched the woman’s face full of worry. He gave her a small reassuring smile and then glanced at the door leading to JiHo’s room. “I’ll try to talk to her.” Thanking Jaemin, Sihyun then excused herself, telling him she had to run some late night errands.

Not knowing what was happening behind the closed door of the bedroom, Jaemin knocked a few times. “Unnie~ Just leave me- leave me alone.” JiHo hiccupped between her words, her speech sounding a bit slurred. She had been drinking? JiHo?

Without a second thought Jaemin pushed the door open. A jumbled mess of protests escaped JiHo’s lips, but she froze in her chair as soon as her eyes locked with Jaemin. “What… are you doing here?” She muttered to the best of her abilities. “Coming to check up on you.” He neared the girl and poked at the bottles and the mess on her desk. “Clearly you need it.” His tone sounded very much disappointed and for a split second JiHo felt her heart ache, but she quickly turned defensive. “I do not!”

A sigh escaped deep from Jaemin’s chest and he pulled JiHo to sit on the edge of her bed next to him. “Since when do you drink?” It was quiet for a bit. JiHo looked at the bottle of the alcoholic beverage in her hand, swirling it around by circling her wrist and then started to giggle to herself. “A new hobby?” She turned to Jaemin, a big smile on her lips – however Jaemin could see the sadness behind it easily. “It’s fun. Feeling… Nothing! I can barely feel my… my lips.” Her body swayed from side to side prompting Jaemin to grab her by her shoulders and hold her in place. “It’s fun until you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” He scoffed. “Can’t get a hangover if I don’t sleep.” She said, before turning to her desk. She then pointed at the box of another 9 bottles of alcohol next to it on the floor. “Or if I don’t stop drinking.” She grinned.

“Yah! What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s patience ran dry quickly. He just felt so furious seeing how badly JiHo was treating her own body. She never drank and now she was planning to drink 12 bottles of alcohol? Drinking herself straight into the hospital, and if it weren’t for Jaemin being here, maybe straight into her own grave. “This is strong alcohol! For all I know you can’t even handle it, so what made you decide to drink now huh?” He yelled, anger only rising watching the girl just stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Those same eyes turned to look at her laptop, located on the desk she sat at earlier. The NCT 127 online fanmeeting being streamed, muted.

Of course Jaemin knew it was NCT 127’s 5th anniversary, he knew it must’ve affected JiHo in some way, even if she kept insisting she was going to be fine and was happy for the boys. She even said that she wasn’t “part of the group since debut, so it wouldn’t even be my 5th anniversary” and everyone just had to nod and smile.

“Is that a reason to potentially drink yourself to death?” Jaemin poked her side – maybe a bit too harsh – to gain her attention again; she seemed to be zoning out every few seconds. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m tired of keeping things in.” She sneered at him and it was almost as if she didn’t drink anything. She sounded much more coherent than just a minute earlier. “Aren’t you doing just that though? Drinking on your own. Not letting Sihyun noona in? We keep telling you to talk to us, yet all you do is keep things in. The hyungs even took you out to do stuff and get your mind off things yet you get home and do the thing you always do.”

JiHo felt every drop of alcohol leave her system as she heard the somewhat condescending tone in her friend’s voice. “What the fuck? So this is my fault-“ “Kinda, yes! You just sit here feeling sorry for yourself while everyone is worried over you! We’re your friends for a reason JiHo. There are so many people who care for you, just start fucking talking when you feel down like this.”

The blood inside of JiHo’s veins started to boil and at the same time she felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “You think it’s that easy? What am I supposed to say? That I feel upset that I can’t be with 127 now? Okay. Then what about it? Me telling you this won’t change shit!” “At least you should stop lying and stop telling everyone you’re fine when you’re not! Why do you continue keeping things a secret from everyone?” Both JiHo and Jaemin’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. “But I guess you’re good at that anyway.” He added in a mumble.

Once the words registered in JiHo’s mind, the bottle that started to hover towards her lips was quickly forgotten. “What do you mean by that?” Jaemin just shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze away from JiHo. “Jaemin? What do-“ “You were supposed to debut in 2016 with NCT U?” JiHo’s eyes widened and she pushed herself to stand up. “How’d you know-“ “Then they asked you to debut in 127? Also with us… In Dream?” “How do you know?” Was the only thing JiHo could say.

“Does it matter?” Jaemin yelled, standing up as well. “Why do you continue to keep secrets from us? Do you not trust us? Is that why you sit here alone? Drinking and crying alone.” The boy watched as JiHo stood in front of him wordlessly. He could see how his words were affecting her, but he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted to let JiHo know how frustrating things were for him and his friends. He was well aware of how JiHo had her own worries and hardships, but if she never wanted to confide in anyone, then he was allowed to be mad right?

The only sound filling the room was both of their ragged breathing and the occasional shift from one foot to the other. The silence was almost deafening, a ringing shooting up JiHo’s clouded mind making her feel like she was going to lose it any second now. Her friend sending hurtful glares her way didn’t help ease the growing pain either.

“You’re right. I could’ve debuted in 2016, what about it?” JiHo whispered, afraid that her talking too loud would send surges of pain into her brain. “Why did you hide it from us? Why didn’t you say yes back then?” Jaemin interrogated her. “There was no reason to tell you if it didn’t happen. I didn’t debut so telling you I could’ve wouldn’t change a thing. I’m not in Dream, I didn’t debut in U and clearly now, I’m not in 127 either. Jaemin… It doesn’t matter anymore…” JiHo’s voice stayed as calm as possible.

“How long have you known Jaemin?” JiHo spoke up again as Jaemin didn’t say anything. She felt the tension grow exponentially, the pressure on her body and more noticeably her head increasing and bothering her more as well. “I heard it during that last meeting you had with Yebin noona and Mister Lee Soo Man…” JiHo let out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “I guess we’re eavesdropping and keeping secrets from me as well.”

She brought the glass bottle still in her hands to her lips, throwing her head back, to down as much of the liquid as possible. Before she could finish it all in one go, Jaemin gripped the bottle and pulled it away from her. “It’s not the same, JiHo!”

The liquid rushed from between JiHo’s lips, making a wet patch on her grey sweatpants. She could feel her throat and lungs burning as she coughed, caused by the alcohol going down her windpipe instead.

Jaemin watched her with concern painting his features, his hand slowly caressing her back hoping it would ease her violent coughs. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He whispered and JiHo gave him a small nod as her body calmed down.

The two 00 liners stayed like that for a while, with Jaemin’s eyes burning at the back of JiHo’s downturned head. Even after JiHo’s body stopped shaking violently, Jaemin’s concern continued to grow. It was only when he noticed the drops, which only could be tears, fall onto her sweatpants and create even more wet spots, that he decided to step in.

Jaemin’s hand securely gripped JiHo’s shoulder and he pulled her up to face him. A gasp left the boy’s mouth as he watched large tears spill from his friend’s eyes. “Ji…” It proved incredibly difficult to speak when he was faced with a situation he wasn’t ready to deal with. Maybe Jaemin shouldn’t have confronted her the way he did. Maybe acting like everything was fine wouldn’t have caused him to witness JiHo at possibly the worst she has felt.

It became a full minute of Jaemin staring into JiHo’s pain- and tear-filled eyes, feeling like he could drown in them himself, before a loud pained sob brought him to reality. The sudden jolt of JiHo’s body forward made Jaemin act quickly and pulled the girl into his chest. His hand, just as quickly, found its way into JiHo’s slightly tangled hair.

“I’m… sor- so sorry.” JiHo sobbed into his chest, tears soaking through even the thicker material of the boy’s jumper. Jaemin could feel his sweater start to stick against his chest, yet what felt more uncomfortable than the damp piece of clothing was the feeling of JiHo’s body shaking in his hold.

As best as he could, Jaemin tried to soothe JiHo. Almost like taking care of a crying toddler, he swayed the girl from side to side. His lips were pressed against the shell of JiHo’s ear as Jaemin whispered affirmations into her skin. “Don’t apologise... Stop apologising.”

“I’m only bringing the team down-” “Shh JiHo. Stop that.” He told her, as his fingers continued to comb through her hair, slowly and carefully detangling it along the way. JiHo pressed her eyes tighter as even more tears spilled from her cheeks and pushed herself closer into Jaemin’s grasp.

Mouth agape, a sob that was building up in his own chest was threatening to fall from Jaemin’s own lips. “You don’t deserve any of this JiHo, you only deserve the best.” JiHo only shook her head, but didn’t dare to speak again. “You do... You really do.”

The night in the capital of South-Korea was never really that dark. Lights always seemed to find their way past the pulled back blinds of any building that wasn’t directly blocked by another one due to bad city planning. So even during the darkest time of day, even when all the lights inside have been dimmed, somehow, it was still light enough to see inside.

So when Jaemin pulled back to look at JiHo’s face, her eyes still tightly pressed shut - which pained him immensely - Jaemin could see the light reflecting off of her wet cheeks.

Feeling two hands being placed on her burning cheeks, JiHo finally decided to open her eyes again. A few more tears rolled over her cheeks onto Jaemin’s thumbs, but luckily no new ones seemed to form. “I’m sorry for everything, all this drama. It’s my fault.” Jaemin shook his head and pulled the girl back, this time to hide his own tears that were starting to form. “Please stop apologising, it’s not your fault.”

“But-” JiHo sighed, her arms found their way around Jaemin’s small waist. “I hate that it’s always about me. I don’t want to be this cliche ‘emotional girl with so many problems and everyone has to pay attention to her problems’. I don’t want that. I don’t want to burden you guys with that, but I also don’t want that kind of attention. I know people already hate me for being in a boy’s group. I don’t want my stupid problems to be the only thing that people assiociate me with NCT.”

“Your problems are not stupid JiHo. And though I understand what you’re saying, I think it’s worse to keep it in. If anything, keeping it in just makes us worry about you more and may get you more attention. JiHo I know things suck right now, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling with everything going on right now, but… Please just talk to us when things are bothering you. We all love you.”

At those last words JiHo loudly sniffled back some stray tears. She pressed herself into Jaemin’s warm embrace and softly nodded her head. “From now on I will. I promise. And…” JiHo looked up at Jaemin, sending him a small smile that he gratefully reciprocated. “I love you guys too. You’re all I have here and that’s enough to make me stay.”

Jaemin’s hand resumed with his previous ministrations. A deep sigh left his lips as he rested his head atop of JiHo’s. “Everything will be just fine.” Jaemin pressed a kiss against JiHo’s hair. “As long as we stay together everything will be just fine.”

[jobean12-blog]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Beefy Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,032

Summary: A day of domestic fluffy sweetness with Bucky 

Author’s Note: This is in celebration of the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club​ Character Appreciation Day and Beefy!Bucky. This is a dream come true because we all know how much I love him. I also combined it with the drunk drabble request below that was left over from the old fashioned DD’s! This story is literally just a tribute to everything beautiful about this man and how much I love him. Hope you enjoy and thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ PS you should listen to this while you ready hehe :) 

Warnings: soft and sweet domestic fluff, some spicy fun but it’s light, a kiss, dancing, good music :) 

I couldn’t decide on a gif so you get two because he is so beautiful! 

The warmth of the late afternoon sun peaks through the blinds, heating your already warm skin and you shift on the couch. Sandwiched between Bucky’s large frame and the couch cushions you stretch out long ways and wiggle your toes, trying not to wake him.

With his book long forgotten and laying open on his bare chest, Bucky still sleeps peacefully. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek as you gently brush a long strand of hair away from his face and continue along the line of his jaw.

Placing a soft kiss to his lips you carefully hop over him, already missing the warmth and comfort of his body. Taking his red Henley from the back of the couch you slip it over your head and instantly feel better, inhaling his scent from the soft fabric.

You give Bucky one more good look before walking the few short steps into the kitchen. His metal arm rests behind his head, the sun dancing over the metal plates and painting small patches like diamonds along the nearby wall. His broad chest fills up with the gentle rhythm of his breathing and his long legs are stretched up and over the other arm of the couch.

Letting out a sigh you turn and stand at the small island, contemplating what kind of cupcakes to make for the party tomorrow. After a good 5 minutes of going over your mental list of recipes you decide on the double chocolate ganache and start getting out the supplies.

“You’re making my favorite aren’t you?” Bucky’s low and gravelly voice greets your ear just before his lips and you can’t help the way you shiver. “Maybe. But if you don’t behave nothing will get done,” you tease lightly, continuing to mix the chocolatey batter.

A large finger appears over your shoulder and heads down toward the bowl. “Don’t you dare Barnes! There is raw egg in here and no!” you scold, swatting at him. While he has you distracted on one side his metal finger takes a swipe from around the other and you catch him just at the second he shoves it into his mouth.

“Mmmmm these are my favorite,” he moans, closing his eyes and licking his finger clean. “That’s it! Go back to the couch, you’re banned from the kitchen area!” you shout, elbowing him in the abs. When he stays pressed against your back despite your best efforts you turn in his arms, spatula in hand.

“If you insist on staying are you at least gonna help me?” you ask expectantly, spatula held up in threat. You try to keep your stern gaze fixed on his face but it’s hard to stop your eyes from wandering down his bare chest and the line of hair that disappears into his shorts.

“I’d love to help doll face!” he cheers, reaching over you to grab the bowl. “I can taste test while you get an eyeful!”

You roll your eyes so hard you nearly fall over and Bucky cackles. “See. You won’t even fight me on it. Admit it. You want me to distract you!” he taunts, purposely letting a drop of chocolate batter fall from his finger and onto his chest.

“Oh. Look at that!” he chimes. “Could you help me out baby girl? I went and made a mess.” You watch the drop of chocolate slowly slide from his collarbone and down between his pecs, your mouth literally watering at the sight.

Holding back a moan you spin around and grab the cupcake tray, tightening your apron. “I’m impressed doll. I was sure I had you there,” he purrs into your neck.

“Let’s get these baked and decorated then you can have whatever you want Buck,” you say with a wink.

While Bucky fills the cupcake tin with liners you finish mixing the batter and start scooping it in. You get two trays filled and in the oven then start to clean up the kitchen. By the time you’re done the timer dings and you’re surrounded by the smell of sugary chocolate.

“I cannot wait to eat 12 of these,” Bucky chimes, opening the oven and taking a whiff. “You will not eat 12! We need them for the party tomorrow!” you admonish.  “Once we get there you can fight Steve for leftovers.”

“What are we frosting them with baby doll? Are you filling them with that gooey ganache stuff?” Bucky asks excitedly. “Yes! And we are using it as the frosting too!” you tell him with a grin.

Once they cool completely and the ganache is made you and Bucky make easy work of the filling and frosting. You’re concentrating hard when you reach over to grab a napkin, not bothering to look up in hopes you can quickly fix the dripping chocolate in front of you.  

Instead of the absorbent material you expect to find your fingers are met with something much more familiar. You look up to see that Bucky has reached for a napkin at just the same moment, your hand now resting atop his. When your eyes meet his they crinkle at the corner with his soft smile and his long, thick fingers close warmly around yours.

With a quick tug he has you pressed against his chest, your hand now resting over his heart and his metal hand resting over yours.

“Bucky we need to fini…” Your sentence is cut off by the soft press of his lips to yours. He releases your hand and trails his fingers upward, caressing your cheek before cradling your face and deepening the kiss.

When you finally separate for a breath of air he rests his forehead to yours, turning his head only long enough to turn on the music. His body starts to slowly sway back and forth, the soft and melodic voice of Frankie Valli filling the air.

His arms hold you impossibly close as you get lost in the blue of his eyes. In the sweet words of the song. In the smell of his skin and the sweet taste of chocolate on his tongue. In a feeling of complete and utter love. It’s just too good to be true.

@addikted-2-dopamine​ @bugsbucky​ @book-dragon-13​ @breezy1415​ @eurynome827​ @fxckbuckyscoming​ @hiddles-rose​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @loricameback​ @lorilane33​ @lookiamtrying​ @marvelgirl7​ @la-cey​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @white-wolf1940​ @skkye​ @whatrambles​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​

[leossmoonn]

Waiting for This [Damon Salvatore]

masterlist

pairing - damon salvatore x fem!vampire!reader 

type - fluff, smut

note - hey, guys! this was a request. i had a lot of fun writing this, enjoy! i decided to make you a vampire :) elena is a little more bratty in this lol. also you are pretty sober when you two start doing stuff, i felt uncomfortable writing two drunk people have sex, even if they’re adults lol

summary - you and damon are best friends and one night after drinking, you two hook up. 

warnings - smut (sex, oral receiving, choking kink, praise kink, you and damon domming each other lol. this is getting hot and heavy luvs), language, frisky language lol, alcohol, you being a funny and sensitive drunk

————

*gif isn’t mine* 

You strutted into The Grill, black ripped jeans on, a dark red, spaghetti-strapped blouse tucked into the jeans, and your hair blown out and voluminous. Your red painted lips were upturned into a smirk, eyes covered by your black sunglasses. 

Heads easily turned at the sight of you. Men and women’s mouths opened, catching flies. You looked around to see if you could spot your group of friends. You looked to see them playing pool. 

You had just moved here two weeks ago. You were getting tired of living in Chicago, since you had been living there for the past 10 years. Being a vampire, you usually stayed in a place for a decade or so before people noticed you weren't getting any older. You usually started at a place at 15 years old, using makeup and clothing to make yourself look younger since you were and have been 20 for a little over 2 centuries. 

You had decided to go to Mystic Falls, Virginia since there were rumours of other vampires here. You thought you might be able to see you friends, but you sadly didn’t. Instead, you found the infamous Salvatore brothers. The ones that one of your friends, Katherine Pierce, talked about. Katherine, sadly, was gone and was running from the Original hybrid, Klaus. You missed her, but you knew you would see her again soon. 

On your first day in Mystic Falls, you had gotten the attention of a petite, cute blonde named Caroline Forbes. You actually ran into her first at the high school she and her friends went to. You were playing the new girl and Caroline had kindly partnered up with you. You had actually planned on using her as a snack, but she quickly threw you against the wall and was about to snap your neck when you apologized for mistaking her as a human. You explained you have been a vampire since 1796, being turned from Katherine as a favor for giving her shelter and a place to hide. You loved being a vampire and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Next you met Elena, who was a new vampire, and Bonnie Bennet who was a witch and descendent of one of your old friends, Emily Bennet. Bonnie and you quickly became friends, too. You showing her the good side of being a vampire and that you weren’t all looking for trouble. 

Then, you met Stefan Salvatore. He was cute, like Katherine had mentioned. He also was helplessly in love with Elena, but they sadly had broken up a few weeks before you came. Now, Elena was pining over someone else, which led you to Damon Salvatore. 

Sexy, funny, and basically the male version of you, so Bonnie and Caroline say. Damon and you had a fun. playful relationship. You two acted like you hated each other because you were so alike, but also teasing each other to the point where you two are horny and face’s are red like firetrucks.

You had a huge ass crush on Damon. You couldn’t help it. From the first time you saw him, you fell in love. Yet, the last two weeks have just consisted of friendship for you. You wanted him so bad, but you couldn’t work up the nerve to kiss him, which was funny since you always seemed so confident. 

Elena was also head over heels for him, too, which pissed you off. Elena and you kept it pretty civil, but the way she looked at Damon made you want to snap her neck and kill her, but to your dismay, she was already dead and Stefan would never let you close enough to stake her. Like right now while they were playing pool, she was making goo-goo eyes at him. 

You rolled your eyes and took off your sunglasses, putting them in your back pocket.

“Wow, you desperate for attention or something? Can’t compel guys to screw you?” Elena blurted as you walked towards them. 

You raised your brows in amusement, smiling with it. “Wow, someone so jealous that they have to insult another woman?” 

Elena pouted and moved back, embarrassed. 

“She’s a new vampire, her emotions are still amplified and she’s learning to control it,” Stefan stuck up for her. 

“Stefan, don’t stick up for her. She's been a vampire for like, a month, according to you all. She should be able to control her emotions by now,” you said and moved next too Damon, who was looking you up and down. 

I personally like Y/n’s outfit,” Damon smirked. 

You blushed but looked down to hide your face. 

“Damon, you like anything walking with skin showing,” Stefan scoffed. 

You frowned at him. 

“I happen to like Y/n’s outfit, too. Really cute and sexy,” Caroline smiled. 

You smiled back at her. “Thank you. I’ll let you borrow my top sometime. Whenever Tyler comes back, you can wear it.” Caroline jumped up and down in excitement. You chuckled and grabbed a pool cute.

You went next to Damon, purposely brushing your arm on his. Butterflies shot down from your stomach to your core. Your skin tingled at the contact. Your eyes met with Damon’s icy blue ones. You felt heat gather between your thighs, and you looked away before your legs could give out from under you. 

“Something wrong, L/n?” Damon asked in a low tone. 

“Nope,” you breathed in. 

You made eye contact with Caroline, who was smirking at you, noticing the heavy sexual tension between you two. You ignored their stares and racked the balls. You took a shot and smiled triumphantly as an orange solid ball went into one of the holes. 

“Good one, L/n!” Damon smiled and shoved you to the side gently. 

You scoffed playfully, poking him with a the pool cue. He took a shot and go no balls in.

“Looks like you’re going down, Salvatore,” you laughed.”

“Shut up, L/n.”

You smirked, taking your turn. You got 2 balls in again. You fist-pumped Stefan as you and him enjoyed watching Damon be defeated. Stefan liked it because he currently was fighting with Damon. You liked it because Damon teased you and the annoyed/angry look on his face was so hot. 

“God, I’m gonna slam you against the wall if you keep up your streak,” Damon muttered in annoyance. 

Your stomach did cartwheels again as you imagined in slamming you against the wall. His hand on your neck, choking you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His free hand roaming your body and-

“Y/n? You good there?” Caroline’s voice interrupted your daydreaming. 

Your head snapped to her and your face flushed. “I-I’m fine.”

You saw Damon smirk in the corner of your eye. You looked at him and glared. “Shove it, Damon.”

“Oh, I’ll shove it in you, all right,” Damon smiled. 

“Woah, that's a new one. Working on your one-liners? Hoping to get laid, Salvatore?” You teased back.

“Not by your ass,” Damon scoffed quickly. 

“Hm, I wouldn't do you either. Who knows how many girls you've been with in your 170 plus years,” you said, bumping your hip with his to get him out of the way. 

“We are gonna go to the bar, want anything?” Caroline asked, obviously wanting to get away from you and Damon’s inappropriate jokes. 

“A round of shots!” You ordered. 

“For you and Damon?” Caroline asked, surprised.  “Yep. Winner gets to plan out the next mission to kill Klaus. Alcohol makes playing pool a lot harder,” you said, looking back and smiling at Damon.

He smiled back at you. A friendly, sweet smile. He couldn’t help it, even though he was teasing you and being playfully rude to you a few minutes ago. 

You were beautiful. Your ability to not give a shit about anyone’s opinions about you, being able to handle a joke, being secure in yourself. Joking around with him, sharing the same humor with him. The fact that you were literally drop dead gorgeous. Your perfect smile, your body that looked flattering in anything you wore - even big t-shirts and sweatpants. The way your eyes lit up when you got all excitedly, like now. You were just so perfect, it was unbelievable. 

You saw the way Damon was looking at you. Your smile got even wider and a blush arose on your cheeks. His pupils were dilated and a longing look replaced the mocking expression he had before. You looked away, looking to Caroline who was walking over with a tray of a dozen shots. 

“Thanks, Care,” you smiled and took the tray from her. You walked over to Damon and put the tray on a table nearby. 

“Alright, ready to lose, Salvatore?” You smirked and turned to Damon, setting your hand on your hip suggestively. 

“I think you said win wrong,” Damon smiled at you. 

You grinned and gave him a shot. You two downed it easy and set the cups down. You walked back to the pool table, bending down and lining up your pool cue. You took your shot, the white ball hitting a purple solid, but not with enough force. You huffed, stepping back and letting Damon take the stand. 

“Looks like the alcohol has already affected your aim,” Damon smirked. 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. 

Damon took position and took his shot. He managed to get 3 striped balls in. Your jaw fell in amazement. Damon turned back to you, chuckling at your expression. He looked you in the eyes and did his signature smirk. As he held eye contact with you, your knees buckles. You yelped as you fell, reaching out for the pool table ledge, but it was too far. Instead of falling, though, you were caught by Damon. 

You fell against his chest, your head ending up on his shoulder. You gasped as he caught you at the last second, quickly looking up into his eyes. His blue eyes were already staring down at you. He was looking at you with that loving look again. You returned the look, trying to let him know with your eyes that you were in love with him. His arms tightened around you, his hands resting on the small of your back. His touch felt warm and made you feel protected. 

He pulled you back up on your feet, which made your foreheads touch. You felt his breath on your lips, begging you to kiss them. Damon’s right hand moved from your back to the bare skin on your arm. He ran his fingertips up and down, making your body hot. Your stomach flipped at his touch and how close you both were. Never once in these two weeks have you ever gotten this close to him. 

It felt nice. Your bodies fit with each other perfectly. You knew that you could stay in his arms forever, if ever given the chance. 

You looked back up to his eyes, seeing him still staring at you. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to his eyes again, working up the nerve to make a move. But as soon as you felt ready enough, he pulled away, leaving you cold and lonely. 

“Let’s get back to the game. I’m interested in planning to kill Klaus,” Damon said and took his pool cue in his hands. 

You coughed awkwardly and nodded. You went over to the shots, taking two and downing them. You went back to the pool table, taking your pool cue that fell on the floor. You took your turn, hitting a ball in. Damon took his turn next. 

You two drank shots and played pool in silence. The air between you two was heavy and awkward. You didn’t try to look him in the eye, afraid you might burst into tears or kiss him, and him rejecting you. You thought he liked you, but apparently, you were wrong.

An hour and a half later, you were absolutely wasted. You were playing pool, drinking more alcohol than your body could probably hold. 

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go home, Y/n,” Damon said. 

“Nu-uh,” you shook your head and stumbled. Damon caught you once again. 

You looked into his eyes, admiring the blue. “You have pretty eyes.”

Damon blushed lightly, but rolled his eyes to cover that fact. “Okay, Missy, I’ll drive you home.”

“Fine,” you huffed. You held onto his bicep, stumbling as you walked to the door. Your grip on his bicep had butterflies swarming in his chest. Damon sighed and stopped walking. He put his arm under your legs and your back and scooped you up. 

Your heart fluttered and you giggled as a verbal response. Damon smiled softly at your laugh, it making his heart happy. He carried you to your car and had you hand your keys over. He set you on your passenger seat and buckled you in. He went over to the driver’s seat. He drove you back home. 

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” Damon said and scooped your up again. You put you around around his neck and cuddled into his chest. 

Damon held you close to him and unlocked your front door. He walked you to your bedroom, laying you down on your bed. 

“I’ll get you some water and coffee, okay?” Damon said. You nodded. groaning and turning around. 

Damon chuckled and went into your kitchen. While he was getting your beverages, you decided to get up and change into pjs. You slowly took off your shoes and shimmied out of your jeans. You sat back down on your bed and took your top off. While you were throwing your shirt in your laundry basket, Damon came in. 

“Woah!” Damon exclaimed and quickly turned around.  “Damon?” You asked and stood up. You walked into him, still in your underwear. 

“Are you dressed?” Damon asked while breathing in deeply. His jeans got tighter as he thought about you sitting in your lingerie. 

“No,” you stated. “Well, get dressed then,” Damon scoffed. 

You frowned, “You don’t like my body?”

Damon’s eyes widened, but he stayed turned around. “No! I... this is weird, Y/n. We are friends.”

Tears clouded in your eyes. “I.. I thought you would like my body. I workout and my ex boyfriends say I look hot. Why don’t you think I look hot?”

Damon sighed and turned around slowly. He eyed your body quickly before going back up to your eyes. 

“Y/n, you’re gorgeous. With and without clothes. You are hot, trust me. Let’s just get you sobered up, okay?” Damon said. 

Your tears disappeared and you smiled. You nodded and turned around. Damon checked your backside out, taking a deep, hard breath. He walked over to your nightstand and put the water bottles and cup of coffee on it. 

You quickly got into shorts and a big t-shirt. You sat down on the bed, taking one of the water bottles and downing the water because of the dehydration you felt from the alcohol. Damon sat down next to you. 

“How come you’re not drunk?” You asked. 

“Because I didn’t drink as much as you,” Damon said. 

“Oh,” you pouted and took a sip of coffee. “Ew, it’s so bitter.”

“Well, you need strong, black coffee to wake you up a little,” Damon smiled. 

You grumbled in agreement and drank more coffee. You two sat in a comfortable silence until you felt a little more awake and a lot less drunk. 

“Vampires sober up fast,” you laughed. 

“Mhm and you happen to be one,” Damon smiled and booped your nose. 

You smacked his hand away playfully. He took your hand and did something that you never thought he would. He intertwined his fingers with yours. Your face flushed and you looked into his eyes for an answer. 

“Damon?” You asked. 

He put his other hand on your cheek, moving his head closer to your lips. You started to breathe heavily and your dead heart felt alive again.

Your brain couldn’t process what was happening. “Damon? Do you know what you’re doing?”

Damon smiled at you. “I know.”

His lips got closer to you and you head got fuzzy. “Damon, are you sure?” You wanted nothing more than to kiss him and have the greatest, hottest sex with him, but you after tonight’s events, you weren’t sure if he was doing this because he liked you, or it was in the moment.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now, be quiet so I can kiss you,” Damon said softly.

You felt giddy inside as Damon finally pressed his lips against yours. 

The kiss started out slow, hesitant, but passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Your eyes fluttered and closed in pure bliss. Damon scooted more on the bed and you followed. 

You laid down on your pillow, Damon crawling up on top of you. You two never broke the kiss while you moved. Damon did once he got settled, though. He looked in your eyes, smiling. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you breathed out. “Me, too,” Damon said and kissed you cheek and went down to your neck.

He sucked on the sweet spot below your ear, making you moan and buck your hips at his. You felt his bulge and smirked. 

You took ahold of his shoulders, flipping you two with your vampire speed. You straddled his waist, putting your core right over his bulge. Damon groaned as you grinded against him, diving your head down to his neck. You licked around his ear, making him shiver underneath you. 

“Y/n,” Damon moaned and gripped your hips. You smirked against his skin, kissing and sucking down his neck. You set your hips back on his thighs, putting your hands on the hem of his shirt, but he was already one step ahead of you. 

He took his shirt off, throwing it haphazardly on the floor. You grinned and ran your hands down his chest, going down again to kiss his chest and go down to the top of his jeans. 

Damon let out a growl as you licked his hip bone. Damon took ahold of you neck and flipped you around against. You let out a surprised moan, loving the feeling of his hand around your throat. He bent down to your ear and whispered, “I’m in charge here, okay?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling wetness pool between in your legs. You nodded fast, “Yes, sir.”

Damon smirked and kept his grip on your neck and made eye contact with you as his other hand went down to your breasts. His fingertips grazed your hard nipples, leaving you whining and squirming. Damon smirked, putting his hand over one of your breasts, needing it. He rolled your nipple in between his thumb and middle finger. You choked on your breath, the ache in your pussy becoming  worse and worse with every move he made. 

“Hm, Damon,” you sighed, your voicing coming out choked because of his hand that had a hold on your neck. He switched breasts, his hand that was on your neck let go, trailing down past your breasts and to your dripping pussy. 

Damon glided his fingers over your slit, going in slightly, groaning at the feeling. “So wet, baby. I’ve barley done anything.”

You let out a yearning whine, your back arching off the bed. Damon chuckled and slid his middle finger in, your eyes closing in bliss. 

“Look at me, princess,” Damon said in a low tone. Your opened your eyes, seeing Damon’s mouth just above your clit, his hand entering your pussy painfully slow. 

You watched with wide, lustful eyes as he entered two fingers into your pussy, attaching his lips to your clit. You let out a loud cry, your back arching off the bed. Damon fingered you, curling his fingers inside of you, finding your spot. As he did his first lick over your clit, your hands flew to his hair, pulling hard. 

“Damon!” You shouted in pleasure, bucking your hips up to his face. He smirked, putting his lips over your clit, sucking on it. You whimpered at this, shutting your eyes in ecstasy. 

Damon's free hand went up to your stomach, pushing you down on the bed. You whined, looking at him. You got more wet as you saw his bright blue eyes staring at you. He had this predatory look in them that sent you throwing your head back again. Your thighs moved in on his head, holding him in place as he worked wonders on your pussy. 

“Tastes good,” you heard him mutter. The vibrations of his words made the knot in your stomach build more. As Damon’s fingers moved into you and his tongue swirling around your clit, spelling out the alphabet, you felt yourself coming close. 

“Damon I-I-I,” you cried out, getting stuck on your words. Damon chuckled quietly, enjoying seeing you writhe under him. Heaven knows he’s dreamt about this from the day you two met. 

“Damon!” You moaned, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Damon ran his tongue over your clit one last time, making sure to suck on the sensitive bud with pressure. 

As you rode out your high, your back collapsed on the bed, your chest heaving up and down. You looked at Damon, a thin cover of sweat lining your forehead. Damon took his fingers out of your pussy, sucking off the remaining juices. He made deep eye contact with you. You felt your body become aroused again, your pussy becoming wet again. 

He took his fingers out of his mouth, looking all over your face. He went over your body, setting his hand on your cheek. He smiled as he admired you’re beauty. “You’re gorgeous, you know.”

You blushed and smiled big at him. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Damon chuckled, “Thank you. Round two?”

You smirked and took ahold of his shoulders, flipping you two over. You settled your naked body over his lower stomach. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Damon smiled and went to take off his pants. You helped him, your eyes becoming wide with lust again as he took off his underwear, revealing his member. You licked your lips, knowing you had been dreaming about this time since forever. 

“Ready, princess?” Damon asked. 

You looked up at him, nodding. Damon put his hands on your hips, guiding your entrance to his cock. You slowly slid down, savouring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls out. You both let out deep, relieved moans. 

Damon kept his hands on your hips, gripping them as you started moving up and down. The slow-paced movement quickly ended as you were soon bouncing on his dick, your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You both were panting loudly, moans coming out of you every second. 

“Hm, Damon,” you groaned, biting your lip. Damon looked up at you, admiring the way your face was scrunched up in satisfaction. 

You two felt your orgasms build up. You both rode out your highs, you collapsed on him, pulling yourself off his dick. Damon put is arm around you, his lips pressing a sweet, loving kiss to your forehead. 

“Wow,” you breathed out once you calmed down. 

“Yeah, I know. I've been waiting for this since forever,” Damon said.

You chuckled, “Yeah, me too.”

Damon sighed contently. You buried your head in his chest. 

“Is this it for us?” You asked. 

“You wanna be more?” Damon asked. 

You looked up at him with a small smile. “Yeah. I would like to.”

Damon smiled back at you, planting a kiss on your lips. “Me, too.”

————

this is my last damon imagine guys. hope you enjoyed reading!