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

[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.

[blueberrymocha]

on your period ❜┊˚͙۪۪̥◌

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐

ׂ╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ warnings: f. reader

➣ a/n: brought to you by my excruciating cramps in the middle of walmart AND their broken bathroom :)

└──────────────────────┘

gon

- he’s the definition of “a little lost but he’s got the spirit”

- he’s never heard of periods before, so it caused him great concern as you explained you were bleeding for a week straight

- his intentions are so so pure, but i would personally not trust him to get any supplies

- you’ll ask for heavy pads and he’ll get you panty liners

- or ibuprofen and he’d grab sleeping medicine

- it’s just that as a boy (with no sisters or female friends) who has such a strong immune system, and lives in the middle of nowhere,

- this is probably the first time he’s even stepped foot into those aisles

- but luckily, he provides amazing support and company

- if you want to stay in all day and snuggle up to a movie? he’s on board

- those few days will be entirely about you

- he’d be super reassuring if you bled through clothes or sheets, offering to wash them for you

killua

- similar to gon, he really doesn’t know too much about it

- he’s heard of it before, but has never looked into it

- of course, he’d hate to sound stupid when offering help, so he skims through something like Wikihow for a bit to make sure he has his facts straight

- when buying products for you, he wouldn’t know which one to get

- so he’d buy them all, hiding them in the car while he confirms which you need

(i just know silva would be mad confused seeing a $50 purchase of pads and tampons on the card killua stole from him)

- he’s not a touchy person, even if you’re on your period, so expect to initiate everything

- he’d order from your favorite takeout spot, and get whatever else you asked him for

- so in the future, he’s a lot better prepared

- and the next time you mention your period started again, the stuffed animals and heating pad would already be dug out from the closet

kurapika

- he’s well informed on menstruation, mostly from his understanding of anatomy and books he’s read here and there

- of course, he likely won’t be around all the time

- that is unless you have a particularly bad cycle

- if you’re the type who has super heavy bleeding, sheet gripping cramps, bad mood swings; he’s definitely there for you

- he’d bust out his limited cooking skills, serving up the best dish he can for you (if it’s that bad, he’ll order something)

- though he’s usually not super affectionate, he’d be very gentle during this time, his arms practically glued around you

- he’d stop by on his lunch break and text you the whole day

- now if your period is more tame, he’d still do these things, just to a less frequent degree

- and just saying—he’s not at all scared of a little blood if it’ll alleviate the cramps

leorio

- as a medical student, he has a deep understanding of it

- he’d ask to track your period and symptoms to make sure nothing is abnormal there

- if you were insecure about being bloated or breaking out, he’d instantly shoot it down

- your body is just doing its job, he would never want you to feel unattractive over that

- while he’s at school, he’d send you short texts reminding you to drink water and take it easy

- if you had any cravings, he’d probably tell you no, but then cave and buy it anyways

“don’t expect me to do this next time..”

*does it next time*

hisoka

- is a lot more knowledgeable than you’d expect

- like he might be an apathetic killer clown, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t know the way around a woman’s body

- now unless you get truly horrible symptoms, he doesn’t care if you’re on your period or not

- to him, it happens every month, so you should be used to it enough to not need comfort and help

- unless he saw you—with all your usual strength and power—curled up in pain on your bed

- he has a very begrudging vibe about him

- obviously, empathy and care aren’t quite his style

- but seeing you suffering so much.. it does something to his brain

- he’d stay with you during those few days, running all the supply trips you need

- also, he finds your mood swings very amusing, which is half the reason he wants to be by your side during this time

illumi

- he really doesn’t know what to do, and the only person he can ask for advice is kikyo

- and i imagine she was the kind of person to tell other women to suck it up because it’s ‘not that bad’

- but as he sees you gritting your teeth, moping around—that doesn’t sound right to him

- he’d merely sit there with you, maybe placing a tentative hand on your back

- later that day, all the female butlers are called in for a private meeting

- after weighing in their opinions, and instructing them to take care of you, he’d buy all the items they pointed him towards

- because as emotionless as he is, he understands that someone he loves is experiencing discomfort, and he doesn’t want that

- but your mood swings would definitely throw him off

- he thought he was doing a good job, yet you were still irritated at him

- and the next day, you’d be tearing up over some cliche movie ending

- after you explain it to him, he’s now intrigued by what other symptoms might occur during your cycle

- he’d fall down a rabbit hole, looking for stories of how other people handle it

- and next month he’s even better at taking care of you

chrollo

- he would already have been tracking it for you, reminding you a few days before in case you didn’t know

- he has a good understanding of periods, and makes sure to ask you specifically what you need from him

- your comfort is always a priority after all

- would still go on his usual missions, but has machi, paku, or shizuku check on you while he’s away

- when he is home, he’s remarkably gentle with you

- the house would already be stocked with supplies, so there’s no need for him to make any extra trips to the store

- additionally, he’s very encouraging and respectful about them

- it’s a natural body process, one that’ll allow you to have children in the future, making it almost sacred to him

[munsonsmixtapes]

Closer

rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

You go to a Corroded Coffin concert not knowing any of their songs and end up catching the eyes of the lead singer.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) fingering, masturbation, fuckboy!eddie

The venue is packed as you try to get to the floor. You’re holding your purse close to you as you shuffle through the crowd. This is your first concert by yourself and you’re so hyper aware of what’s going on around you, still annoyed that security took your pepper spray when checking your bag.

You don’t even know the band that’s playing. You’re supposed to be here with a friend but she called you last minute and told you that she was sick but said to go without her. So here you are, alone, with no one but yourself to keep you company.

Eddie’s supposed to be on stage in five minutes but here he is, a girl with her head between his thighs, just like always. As nice as it is, he knows he has to go so he doesn’t even finish before pushing her off, grabbing his jeans that make his ass look great and putting them on as he promises to call her. He won’t, though. Not until he’s desperate and his hand is no longer doing the job.

He hears his band mates pounding on the door as he goes over to the vanity in the dressing room and goes through all of the stuff that’s cluttered the top, looking for his eye liner before going over what he forgot to wash off last night. He was too preoccupied by the guy he brought home from the bar to do so. It looks better this way anyway.

Once he’s done, he readjusts himself in his pants and heads out the door, fixing his hair as he heads out the hallway to find that his band was waiting for him. He’s fixing his hair, not even caring that they’re now late and it’s all his fault. It’s always his fault because he’s never not thinking with his dick.

He’s already thinking about who he’ll have next, always chasing some sort of high that has nothing to do with the coke he snorted earlier in the day now that it’s worn off. That was just to make him less anxious about the show because even after years of doing this, he still gets nervous.

Eddie blinks and he’s standing in front of his mic stand with his guitar over his shoulder. The lights go up and he watches the crowd go wild as the smoke clears and his face is now visible.

You join in and cheer because you don’t want to look weird being in the pit and having no fucking clue who’s playing on stage. You’ve heard their music before with your friend and even listened to it on the way to the concert, but now all of it has left your brain as the first song starts.

It’s easy to spot you in the crowd. Not only are you fucking hot in Eddie’s eyes, but you stick out like a sore thumb being the only person who’s not singing along. you look so lost and he wants to help you out, to make you not feel as scared as you look.

He’s not even sure if he’s singing the right words because all he can focus on is you. He’s reaching out, his hand brushing yours as he finishes the last few notes and maybe it’s the adrenaline or maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but he swears he feels a spark as his hand touches yours.

He crouches down and sings the last line before pressing his lips to your knuckles, lingering there as he looks up at you through his lashes. He’s gotten so many people with this look and he can practically hear the trap snapping as he’s caught another one.

He stays there, somehow unaware of the fact that he’s doing a concert for thousands of people and has to physically pull himself away from you to do the next song. The guys are already fed up with him but he doesn’t care. He’s convinced that he’s in love.

Your cheeks get hot as you feel eyes on you, the people all around you either glaring or seemingly happy for you since you’ve clearly gotten the attention of the lead singer. And as hot as he is, you feel so bad because you don’t even know his name. But now you want to. You want to run your hands all down his bare chest, tracing his tattoos as he whispers the most filthy things into your ear.

Eddie wants to know your name so he can replace any word he finds necessary with it. He’s sure that would make the songs he wrote when he was fifteen sound much better to his twenty-five year old self.

He’s still trying his best to focus when all he’s able to think about is what you look like naked. He just wants this whole thing to be over so he can take you back to his hotel room and have his way with you. He’s already wondering how you like it. He doesn’t know why, but he’s got a feeling that you’re freaky. The shy ones always are.

The chemistry is palpable. It’s like there’s a magnetic pull between the two of you and all Eddie wants to do is hold your hand. It’s soft and warm and it somehow fits perfectly in his. And because he cock always interrupts sweet moments, he can’t help but wonder how they would feel in his mouth as he-

“Let’s make some noise Chicago!” He says into the mic for his scheduled talking break. Everyone cheers on cue and he looks down at you, a bright smile on his face. “That’s what I like to hear. This is actually a hometown show for me. Well, sort of. We’re all from Hawkins. Anyone from Hawkins here tonight?”

You cheer and Eddie smiles even wider. This has to be fate. Has to. How could it be that you’re from the tiny little town where he grew up?

“I knew I liked you,” he says directly to you. “What’s your name?” You yell something in response but he can’t hear you so he has to pull out one of his in-ears. He even goes as far as taking off his guitar and setting it to the side so he can get onto his knees. He leans down so his ear is right by your lips and he gets goosebumps as your breath hits his skin, whispering your name in a flirty tone. God, he needs you bad.

“Y/n,” he repeats into the mic. “That’s hot. Do you want to come up and sing this next one with me?” You nod furiously and a security guard helps you navigate out of the crowd and leads you to the stage. Eddie holds out his hand for you and you take it, letting him help you up the stairs.

“Damn,” is all he says as the two of you get to the center of the stage. He lets his eyes rake over you, checking you out, staying on your legs for a bit too long, desperately wanting to have his head between them. They look so nice and soft and he just wants to dig his fingers into them as he-

“What’s your name?” You ask, your tone still flirty.

“I’m Eddie,” he replies, making his voice deeper as he speaks into the mic and you step closer to each other, completely unaware that you’re on stage in front of thousands of people.

“Eddie,” you repeat, pulling his body flush against yours. You pick up some of his hair and twirl it around your finger, making the man who’s normally a master at making people fall to his feet want to fall to his knees right in front of you. “I like that.”

“I like you,” he says, emphasizing the last word. And this time, it’s not a line. He’s obsessed with you and he hasn’t even gotten you into bed yet. You’ve completely rewired his brain and now he’s at a loss for words. You’ve somehow rendered the man who never shuts up speechless.

“Well I like you.” Your hands press against his bare chest and slide up it as you pull your lips between your teeth, staring him down with that look always seems to make men want to submit to you. He’s leaning closer and you nod your head, the man playing right into your hand.

Everything around the two of you is completely forgotten as his lips touch yours. They’re soft but chapped, not that you mind. His hands grab hold of your hips as your tongue slips into his mouth, causing him to whimper.

It’s only then that Eddie snaps back into reality. He hesitantly pulls away then brings his lips to your ear, still breathing heavily from the kiss. He doesn’t normally kiss the women he hooks up with, but he’d be perfectly happy with making out with you for the rest of the night.

“Stay after the show and we can continue this elsewhere.” You nod in response and he kisses you once more before letting you go back to where you were standing. It’s hard for him to snap back into reality, still dazed from the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your mouth that he can’t seem to shake.

Everything that happens afterwards is a blur. You don’t even remember the rest of it, imagining those pretty pink lips kissing all over your body as he whispers filthy things against your skin. You need him so badly that you can feel yourself getting progressively more wet as the show goes on.

Seeing Eddie’s body dripping in sweat makes you weak in the knees and you wonder if that’s what he looks like after sex, the messy hair and all, out of breath, thanking whoever he’s fucked over and over for having him. He’s made your mind mush and now you wonder what he has in store for you in his hotel room.

Eddie doesn’t remember the rest of the show either and the next thing he knows, he’s being escorted back to his dressing room, making sure that you’re taken care of. For once, he’s not going to get black out drunk and forget that he was going to hook up with someone. He wants to be one hundred percent sober for this. He wants to give you whatever you ask. He’s usually the dominant one, but this time, he’s gonna let you take the reins.

You both take your time touching up, Eddie fixing his hair and eyeliner that he had sweat off and you make sure your lipstick looks perfect even though you know it’s just going to get smudged anyway. You throw the lipstick and compact back into your purse then let the security guard lead you to the correct dressing room, the one that Eddie always requests to have to himself so he can hookup with his flavor of the big night and not be disrupted.

You thought you’d be nervous, but you’re actually not. You’re more excited than anything. You don’t ever do things like this and definitely not with rockstars. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you’re going to take it.

You open the door and he’s there on the couch, legs spread, his arms resting across the couch. He looks like he's posing for an album cover and you slowly make your way over to him. Your purse is tossed onto the vanity and Eddie reaches out to take your hands. He thinks you’re going to sit next to him, but you surprise him by straddling his lap, grinding against him as your lips find his. The kiss is searing and messy and Eddie feels his brain short circuit when your hands slide into his hair and give it a yank.

His hands slide up your skirt, dipping into your panties and pushing them down so he can get a handful of your ass, giving it a squeeze, his nails digging deep into your skin.

You bite down on his lip at the surprise and quickly apologize but his eyes only darken. It was an accident, but he liked the feeling, the bit of pain it inflicted. He wants you to do it again and again then swipe your tongue across it to diffuse the sting.

“You want another?” You ask and all he can do is nod. You just laugh, the sound light, almost like a giggle and it makes Eddie’s heart swell. Is it too soon to say that he loves you?

“Use your words, baby,” you tell him as your nails scratch at his scalp, making his eyes flutter shut.

“Please,” he whines and you bring your face closer to his. He’s never felt this way about anyone before. He usually just uses sex as a way to not feel lonely, but with you, he actually wants it.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” You lean down and bite down on his lip again, harder this time and Eddie’s sure that he’s going to cream in his pants. You’re grinding against him which makes it even worse and he’s so hard, so needy for you that it’s actually starting to hurt.

“More,” he begs and you give him one more bite as your grinding gets more intense, feeling him getting even harder against your, his whimpers becoming louder as he begs for you to fuck him. He needs to get inside you right now or he’s sure he’s going to explode.

You get off of him and lower yourself between his legs. Just when he thinks that you’re going to take his pants off to suck him off, you begin untying his boots. They’re off in a flash and his socks come off too before you stand to your feet, kicking off your own shoes.

You help him sit up and guide his hands to the zipper of your skirt. Together, you pull it down and it pools at your feet and you step out of it. You then bring his hands up to your waist, letting them push up your tank top.

“Kiss me,” you tell him and he obeys immediately, pressing his lips to your stomach. He gets onto his knees as he pushes your shirt up higher and higher, kissing up your torso as he gets your shirt over your head.

His hands move higher, unhooking your bra as he kisses your chest, the red lipstick you had transferred to his lips leaving a trail of red marks along your body. Your bra is tossed to the side in an instant he kisses down to your now bare breasts. He peppers one one kisses as he grabs hold of the other, massaging it.

You whimper against him and he’s even harder now hearing the song. You push him away then join him on the couch, pulling him into another hot kiss before lying down on the couch. Eddie’s straddling your waist now, letting his eyes slowly rake over your bare chest.

“Fucking incredible,” he says as he leans down to bring one of your nipples into his mouth. he gives it a rough suck as you moan loudly, feeling yourself ache because of how badly you need him. You take his hand and push it down into your panties. His fingers move back and forth across your slit to tease you but you’re not having it.

“Eddie, I swear if you don’t do something now, I’ll just do it myself.” Your hand joins him and you think he’s going to make you move, but to your surprise, he takes your own fingers and shoves them inside you, making you moan even louder.

“That’s it,” he says, abandoning his current task, wanting to watch you instead. “Just like that, sweetheart.” He’s jealous beyond belief at the way you’re so easily able to pleasure yourself, but he’s actually turned on by the whole thing.

You always know exactly what you need since you do this pretty often, so used to your own fingers, but now you’re wondering how Eddie’s would feel inside of you. They’re longer than yours and you wonder what his rings would feel like, the cold metal against you, moving in and out of you. The whole thing is driving you mad, driving you closer and closer to finishing.

Just when you’re about to orgasm, he removes your fingers and puts them into his mouth, liking and sucking to remove any of the remnants of your slick from them. You finish your orgasm as you watch him, the two of you staring each other down and once he’s done, he goes in with his own fingers, wanting to stretch you out as much as possible, moving harder and faster than you previously had.

His rings feel even better than you imagined, so cold by so good. Your eyes flutter closed as he works, already close to another orgasm. You can feel it and as Eddie sees you approaching it, he moves even faster, even harder and watches you orgasm yet again, but he feels cocky since it was by his hand this time. He wonders just how many times he can get you there tonight. His record is four so this should be nothing.

“Eddie,” you whine as he gets you there, still pumping as he talks you through it, only pulling out when you’ve come down from your orgasm. He then removes his boxers and tosses them to the side, his cock hanging over you, harder beyond belief and already wet with precum, the stuff dripping onto your stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says as gets rid of your panties, spreading your legs as wide as he can so he can see what he’s working with. He can see it running down your legs and chuckles to himself at how wet he’s made you. “So fucking wet. Want me to take care of you?”

“Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he replies, repeating your words from before, but they sound much more filthy coming from his mouth. “Is it okay if we don’t use a condom? I just want to feel you.”

“I want to feel you. It’s okay.” With that, he lowers himself down onto you, slipping into you just a little bit before pinning you to the couch and pounding into you. You’re moaning already and he swears he could get off to that alone.

He watches you, feeling your hips buck against his again and again, wanting to feel all of him inside you so he slowly goes inch by inch with every thrust until he’s always the way inside, watching tears prick your eyes because of how big he is.

You’re not sure how much more you can take, moaning loudly again. It’s so loud and hot that Eddie can’t help but want to hear it again, continuing to pound into you until you do it once more.

“Yes, yes, yes,” falls from your lips as you reach yet another orgasm and Eddie’s not far behind.

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say as he pulls out quickly, his cum leaking out all over your stomach, but neither of you care. It’s just an excuse for him to clean you up afterwards.

For now, he’s quick to grab some tissues from the vanity and cleans you up the best he can before lowering himself down onto you again, lying his head on your chest as you play with his hair.

You don’t stay like that for long and end up getting dressed before Eddie leads you out to the car he always has on stand by. He helps you into the backseat where you kiss the entire twenty minute ride to his hotel room.

There, you take a very long shower together and he lets you shampoo his hair before going for multiple rounds until you finally decide to go to bed. Eddie loans you one of his t-shirts and lets you crawl into bed with him where you lie on his chest and as you’re falling asleep, he definitely isn’t thinking about wanting to see you again.

[sagesparrow394]

Okay I’m recording my reactions to Riptide 115 as I go, I feel like I should, this is a momentous occasion

Dopple-Gilly being slumped like Golden Freddy was way funnier to me than it should have been

I’m completely on board for a Chip goes to therapy arc

Oh??? The artificial leviathan is meant to cure the Black Sea? I don’t buy that as the only intention of making it, no way

OOOOOH PLANT ON LIZZIE’S CREW (I already knew that because I got spoiled on twitter lmao) My theory is Marshall John. He’s literally ex-RAFT who was weirdly easy to convince to turn to piracy, and was dead set on joining Lizzie’s crew specifically

I love that the Riptide crew are absolutely suffering on the Black Sea, meanwhile the Granberry pirates are literally partying rn

I WAS NOT EXPECTING JAY TO ASK TO DRAW A CARD LMAOOO

Gillion and Chip’s conversation is hitting right in the heart, man… THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUUUUCH!!! FISH AND CHIPS BABY

Jay’s expressions in the thumbnail of this episode made me think for so long that Chip and Jay were going to have a big argument or fight that made them decide to split up. I’m relieved to find out it’s not that, they’re just splitting up out of necessity, they’re all still good

“I love you, Jay.” “I love you, Chip.” aaaaAAAAAUGHHHHHH SOMEBODY SEDATE MEEEEE, FOUND FAMILY MY BELOVED

AND CHIP CALLING HER SURESHOT AUGH

Bye Jay, I’ll miss you ;-;

Aaaand immediately Chip and Gill are calling each other pookie and other pet names, of course as soon as Jay’s gone they start acting gay

Gillion/Charlie describing the ‘hole’ as ‘yawning’ is giving me The Big Swell flashbacks (QSMP I miss you)

oH GOD ANOTHER DARK PUCKERED HOLE EXTRACT, AND IM LISTENING WITH MY PARENTS IN THE ROOM AGAIN I CANT-

Knowing that Grizzly stepped away for FORTY MINUTES to go write something for this makes it so much more nerve wracking. Bro didn’t have this prepared, didn’t spend time editing, he just made this on the spot

Someone show Finn ao3, he would thrive there

Chip’s reactions makes it so much funnier to listen to

What the fuck is the ‘half-moon handy manoeuvre’

I wonder if, back in the Black Rose oneshot, Charlie had any idea this was what his character would come to be known for

‘THE DOLPHIN’S BLOWHOLE MANOEUVRE’ ‘WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN!!!!!’

‘I could not squeeze my mega-cum-blast any longer’ truly poetry

NOT THE ‘AND EVERYONE CHEERED’ ENDING

Horniness aside, there is something genuinely sad about Finn finding his true love in prison, and only getting to have one night together… Like that is heartbreaking

‘If the rest of my life was meant for this moment, then I wouldn’t have changed a thing’ this old fish man yaoi is making me tear up like wtf

Gillion gained +2 rizz from his grandfather’s sex book, that’s wild

:((((( Goodbye the Albatross

GOOBLECK!!! Every time he says something, I get so happy

30 POINTS OF DAMAGE FROM AN ARM WRESTLE?! HOLY SHIT

Bizly pulling the camera right up to his face and yelling ‘TO THE HELM BOY’ is so much funnier than it has any right to be

‘Heh, nice body count… BUT EVEN MY GRANDPA COULD DO BETTER!’ Gillion may not have liked reading Dark Puckered Hole, but at least it’s given us one liners like this

I fully expected this episode to be emotional from start to end, but nah, without Jay around to ground them, Chip and Gill have just descended into pure unfiltered silliness

“You’ve gotta stay on top, just like grandpeepaw” 🤨

GILLION 360 SPIN KICK! Dude’s been taking lessons from Dakota Cole

hE’S NOT A HOLLOWED???? GRIZZLY WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU WAIT UNTIL GILLION KILLED HIM TO SAY THAT-

OH THANK GOD HE’S NOT DEAD

Into the hole in the sea we go…

“Welcome home” hUH??

aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAA BEING LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO JUST CLICK ON THE NEXT EPISODE SUCKS

‘You’re gonna be leaving me on that cliffhanger for six fucking months?!’ *stares at the 1 year ago video timestamp*

God I love this campaign

Finally… I can say those three words

I miss Riptide

Update: bro I was saving the Riptide Sea Shanty until I caught up with the campaign, and I just listened to it and now I’m actually crying… Seeing Ollie and Felipe… Hearing the whole crew sing together… I’m not okay man I miss these guys already

[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

[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.

[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

[taraslevin]

The Fun and Unique Appeal of Funny Desk Calendars

Calendars are a practical tool for keeping track of important dates, but they don’t have to be dull. Adding humor to your calendar can not only keep you organized but also make your daily life a little brighter. Whether you’re looking for something to decorate your desk or a light-hearted gift for a friend, funny calendars are a great choice. In this article, we will explore various types of funny calendars and desk calendars that will help you stay on top of your schedule while also providing daily entertainment.

Start the Year with a Funny Calendar 2026

A funny calendar 2026 is a perfect way to begin the new year with a smile. These calendars feature witty jokes, humorous illustrations, and amusing quotes that will keep you laughing all year long. If you’re someone who loves to add humor to their routine, the funny 2026 calendar can be the ideal addition to your workspace or home. It helps you stay organized without sacrificing fun, offering a delightful start to every new month.

Why a Funny Calendar is More Than Just a Time Tracker

A funny calendar is more than just a tool for tracking days—it’s a source of joy. The humor added to each month creates an enjoyable experience every time you check your schedule. Whether it’s a quirky design or a funny quote, this calendar ensures you won’t just check off days, but also get a chuckle along the way. From funny animals to amusing phrases, funny calendars can bring a touch of lightness to even the busiest of workdays.

Add Humor to Your Office with a Funny 2026 Calendar

For those who want to keep their workspace light and cheerful, a funny 2026 calendar is a perfect office companion. These calendars can feature anything from humorous cartoons to clever one-liners, making them the perfect conversation starters. They not only help keep track of your schedule but also brighten up your office, turning an otherwise mundane calendar into a daily source of laughter. A funny 2026 calendar is an easy way to add personality to your workspace.

Stay Organized with Desk Calendars 2026

For those who prefer a more compact option, desk calendars 2026 offer a practical and space-saving way to keep track of important dates. These calendars fit perfectly on your desk, allowing you to glance at your schedule without needing to get up. A desk calendar 2026 is a convenient choice for both home and office use, keeping you organized while also offering a small and simple way to add humor to your day.

A Desk Calendar for Every Workspace

Desk calendars are an excellent choice for anyone who needs to stay organized in a smaller space. With a desk calendar, you have a clear overview of the month and upcoming events right at your fingertips. Plus, adding a funny twist to your desk calendar makes the daily grind a little more enjoyable. Whether you're working from home or in an office, desk calendars offer a functional and fun way to keep track of your days while brightening up your environment.

Desk Calendar 2026 Ireland: A Local Touch for Your Desk

If you're in Ireland, a desk calendar 2026 Ireland offers a unique way to keep track of the new year while celebrating local culture. These calendars can feature beautiful Irish landscapes, famous landmarks, or even quirky humor related to Ireland’s rich culture. Perfect for anyone living in or visiting Ireland, a desk calendar with a local twist adds a personal touch to your office space. Not only does it help with organization, but it also connects you to the beauty and heritage of the country.

The Joy of a Desk Calendar 2026 for Your Office

A desk calendar 2026 is an excellent tool for anyone looking to keep track of important dates in a smaller format. Ideal for limited desk space, these calendars are both practical and fun. Featuring humorous designs or motivational quotes, a desk calendar can make your workspace feel more inviting. With a desk calendar 2026, staying organized has never been more enjoyable, ensuring that you always stay on top of your schedule while keeping the mood light and fun.

[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 :)

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.

[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.