#goal is to have everything moved and built by Saturday

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 11, day 29

Started shading on Flick, and also I did some cooking tonight that I don't normally do! Stuffed chicken breasts (caramelized onions + parmesan cheese) wrapped in bacon, plus a steamer bag of veggies. Dinner turned out super good, and I'm really digging the shading on my boy so far, so definitely a good night tonight :D

[oeldeservesthenorris]

I absolutely despise that know-it-all blowhard Thomas Drance, so I rarely acknowledge his "insight", but for once he got it right and as an FYI so, enjoy this copy and paste article from The Athletic cause I really don't like to give them any more $$ than I have to:

Drance: Why Quinn Hughes has something to prove — ‘A lot of guys don’t watch the West’

SUNRISE, Fla. — There’s a quiet intensity to Quinn Hughes. It’s always been there, simmering a bit beneath the surface.

When it comes out, at least in terms of his public commentary, it’s expressed with almost stunning clarity.

Hughes lives hockey. His family lives hockey. There’s a reason he’s one of the smartest defenders in the game today, and it’s because he knows this sport inside and out. He tracks obscure records, he’s aware of the statistics and the conversation around the league, and yes, he noticed where he stood in recent lists of the best players in the NHL compiled both by ESPN and The Athletic.

“Oh yeah, I saw the lists, but I’m not going to comment on it,” Hughes said Saturday after playing his best game of the season, and perhaps the most complete single game of his career, in the Vancouver Canucks’ 5-3 victory over the Florida Panthers. “Maybe at the end of the year.”

Regardless of where Hughes ranked in the preseason lists, two things are certain moving forward. The first is that the Canucks’ first-year captain is clearly out to prove something this season: that he’s among the NHL’s best defensemen and that he can lead this team to the playoffs.

The second is that if he plays like this consistently, and if this team succeeds on his back the way they did on Saturday night, Hughes’ two-way play and his standing as a dominant blueliner will be completely undeniable.

Hughes, after all, was dominant on Saturday. In a game that featured a legitimate MVP candidate in Matthew Tkachuk, a perennial Selke nominee in Aleksander Barkov and Vancouver’s two near-40-goal scorers in Elias Pettersson and Andrei Kuzmenko — who broke the game open in multiple instances — Hughes was the best player on the ice. And it wasn’t close.

He had the game on a string and dictated the pace in all phases of the contest.

When the Canucks built their lead in the second period, it was Hughes who kept the puck alive on a Panthers clearing attempt, then walked the line when he retrieved the puck and uncorked a shot through multiple layers of the Panthers defense. His shot caused chaos in the Panthers crease and Florida took a penalty. Soon after, Vancouver took the lead.

Then as the Panthers pressed, dominating play in the third period, it was Hughes who proved capable of calming down the game. On multiple occasions he got in on the hands of Panthers wingers Carter Verhaeghe, Evan Rodrigues and Sam Reinhart along the wall, cleanly stripping them of the puck and turning play in the other direction.

It wasn’t perfect, and as the Panthers cranked up the pressure on Vancouver, Hughes was on the ice for a goal against. It was the first goal against that Hughes had been on the ice for all season. He’d logged 115:40 of total ice time in all situations to open the campaign before an opponent scored against the Canucks while he was on.

That may seem like an obscure stat, but it’s another one Hughes was aware of and tracking.

“Do you know that was the first goal against you were on the ice for this season?” I asked him postgame.

“Yeah, I was keeping track of that. By myself. I wanted to see how long I could go with that one,” Hughes admitted.

“Do you know how long you went?”

“Well, I know I went four games, 25 minutes a game, so that would be 100 … oh but wait, it’s only five-on-five …”

“Oh, I have the number for everything.”

“Whatever. OK, I was only tracking five-on-five. You counting everything?”

“Yeah, it’s 115:40.”

“Oh man, I was going to guess 118.”

“Pretty close, so you’re all over it.”

“Of course, I mean, I always hear it,” Hughes responded thoughtfully, that old chip on the shoulder beginning to show. “Y’know how it is. ‘He’s an offensive defenseman, but he’s not good at defending.’ And I’ve been plus the last two years, and playing big minutes. So for me, the stereotype is there. A lot of guys don’t watch the West, but I’m out here trying to do the best I can.”

Obviously, Hughes’ best is sensational, and not just offensively. Even traditional plus-minus — which dings a player with Hughes’ offensive profile given that he eats fake dashes for short-handed goals against and empty net goals deposited against Vancouver when it’s trailing — underrates his contributions. The simple fact of the matter is that last season when Hughes was on the ice five-on-five, the Canucks outscored their opponents 81 to 61 — for an on-ice goal differential of plus-20 (a far better statistic since it doesn’t arbitrarily mix game stats). When Hughes was taking a breather, Vancouver was outscored 88 to 131.

Or to put it simply, for those in the Eastern time zone: When Hughes was on the ice five-on-five over roughly 1,500 minutes, the Canucks outscored their opponents at a rate comparable to (and actually better than) what the Vegas Golden Knights accomplished as a team last season. When Hughes wasn’t on the ice five-on-five, Vancouver was outscored at a rate comparable to what the Anaheim Ducks accomplished as a team last season.

“He does some stuff though that’s world class,” said Canucks head coach Rick Tocchet postgame. “And when he defends, he defends with quickness. And that’s OK — he can still win a Norris defending with quickness, you don’t have to kill a guy in the corner.

“I think Huggy, he’s got a little chip on his shoulder about (the idea) that he can’t defend,” Tocchet added later in his postgame briefing. “About the idea that he’s just an offensive defenseman and no, he can defend. And I like that.”

Honestly, it’s past time for Hughes’ savvy, well-rounded, two-way game to begin to garner the respect it’s due.

Of course, it also speaks to the extent to which Hughes’ control of the proceedings in Sunrise on Saturday night jumped right off of the ice sheet that we’ve yet to mention his goal — his first of the season — which opened the scoring.

The goal came after Hughes made one of the most preposterous keep-ins at the blue line that I’ve ever witnessed live; an absolute marvel of hand-eye coordination on which the broadcast angle on the play — which still captured how impressive the play was — did the degree of difficulty zero justice.

Later in the shift, Hughes received a pass from J.T. Miller, changed the angle on the wrist shot and stepped into that first goal.

“Walking the blue line and shooting, he’s got a couple of moves that he worked on this summer,” Tocchet said when asked about how dominant Hughes was on Saturday night in South Florida. “Man, he worked a lot, I don’t know if people realize how much he worked. I don’t want to tell you what he does, I’m not going to give the other team a pre-scout.

“I’m not trying to put pressure on him, but his capability of walking the blue line is outstanding.”

Hughes’ newfound shooting mentality has been one of the most noticeable evolutions in his game in the early going this season. Through five games, Hughes is averaging north of three shots per game and nearly an additional shot-and-a-half per contest above his career average going into this season.

“I’m shooting more for sure, but it’s more about putting myself in spots where I can beat a guy and then shoot,” Hughes said. “Connecting my feet and my hands, beating a guy. In the past when I’d beat a guy, I wouldn’t be in a position to shoot it. I’m focused in on that now.”

Of course, there’s a balance. Hughes’ best skill is his passing and on a team loaded with world-class finishers, there’s a balance he has to strike in terms of distributing the puck. Of course, that’s a balance that comes naturally to a signal caller of Hughes’ calibre.

“I think the more I shoot, the more will open up,” Hughes said when I asked him if his new shooting mentality could open up additional passing lanes. “It’s more than my shot, it’s rebounds and tips. But on the power play, pre-scout, if I’m shooting a bit more they have to worry about that.

“That said, I have to be aware. Like would you rather my shot or Petey’s slap shot? It’s going to be Petey’s slap shot every time. And his slap shot opens up my shot, and when that happens, I’m going to try and use it.”

While Hughes managed to beat Sergei Bobrovsky with a point blast for his first of the year, his evolution as a shooter is about more than just his goal on Saturday. It’s that, in truth, he could have two or three already in this young season.

“Honestly, I think I could’ve scored in every game,” Hughes said. “I know the exact plays, too. I could’ve scored in Philly, I should’ve scored in Edmonton, I hit the post in Philly, but I also had a mini breakaway and should’ve just tried to go five-hole. I know I’m getting my looks so I know it’s going to come. And I’m getting more looks because of my mindset.”

Getting his first goal of the year was also something of a weight off of his shoulders. It took him until Dec. 27 last season to score his first of the campaign.

When he finally scored, he was nearing an ignominious record. It was a milestone Hughes was aware of, though it received little meaningful media coverage as it approached.

“It feels good (to score my first), I mean obviously I almost broke the record last year,” Hughes said when asked how he viewed his first goal.

“Huh, what record?” I interrupted, confused.

“Most games by a guy scoring a point per game without a goal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. No, I think I was two or three games away, and that’s not a record you want to break.”

“Wait, were you tracking that?”

“No, but the trainers were busting my balls about it.”

There will be no ignominious goal-less milestones for Hughes to sidestep this season. And no ignoring Hughes’ dominance — on offence and in his own end, too — if he keeps playing like this.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 18: Olfactophilia (Scent Kink) With Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1923 Warnings: Olfactophilia (Scent Kink), Vaginial Fingering, P in V Sex, Dirty Talk. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

There are many ways a twenty-something-year-old can spend their Saturday night. Go to the theatre, go to a bar, sneak into a bar, pay the nearest lake a visit with someone special.

But you and Steve? You two are spending this one on his couch with a chick flick on his T.V.

Curled up together under a blanket bathed in the light from the screen, so close you could almost feel his heart beating where your sides were pressed together, his arm wrapped around you while your head rests on his chest. Warm and content.

The movie was ultimately uninteresting, you liked a good horror or action film, but Steve was a bit of a weenie when it came to spooks, so you wouldn’t subject him to that when the goal was to relax. You getting distracted was no surprise, rather you were shocked that it didn’t happen until halfway through the movie.

And what distracted you? Steve. Or more accurately, Steve’s smell.

Your nose was all but pressed into the sweatshirt he was wearing, which meant every breath was filled with his scent. At first there were the obvious things, his fancy cologne, his fancy shampoo and conditioner, Farrah Fawcett hairspray and a couple other hair products, the faint smell of the cigarette he’d shared with Eddie at the end of his work shift, all smells you were more than used to from him.

But there, under it all, was an unmistakable musk, a natural masculine scent that made your head spin a little when you noticed it. There was no other way to describe it but distinctly Steve. You were sure that even having just really smelled it for the first time, you’d be able to recognize it blindfolded.

And it made you wet.

One could hardly blame you when you nuzzled your face further into him and inhaled deeply, pulling as much of it into your nose as you could, craving more of that brain tingling scent. It was better than any drug or drink.

You felt rather than heard Steve’s responding chuckle, distracted as you were. “You good there, Sniffles?” He joked, looking down at you with those hazel eyes that looked so dark in the low lighting, but reflected the T.V. light like little stars.

“You smell good.” You answered simply, though your face flamed with a flush at having been noticed.

He lifted a brow before his eyes darted around, as if searching his memory for any change to his routine that would result in a new smell, not because you never talk about how he smelled, no you had made plenty of comments here and there, expressing that you liked the cologne he used, or commenting on the strong scent of his hairspray covering it up, but he’d never seen you be this focused on it.

“I’m not wearing anything new.” He answered, tone prompting you for more information.

You let out a hum. “It’s not something you’re wearing. Just you.” You explained before giving another smell to his shirt, as if to further make your point. “Under everything else.” The words came out as a purr as the arousal the scent seemed to instill in you slowly built.

He let out a hum of his own, a small proud smile finding his face. “You saying you like my natural musk?” He teased.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You answered as you trailed a slow hand up his chest, hoping he would get the hint.

His brows shot up as he glanced down at your hand, then back to your face, then his shock melted into a sultry smirk. “How much do you like it?” He asked, finally getting the message.

“Lemme show you…” You murmured, tossing the blanket off you as you moved to straddle his lap, not giving him more than a few seconds to process the change before pulling him into a deep kiss, all tongues and teeth and a desperation that even you were surprised by.

He hummed happily into the kiss, meeting you move for move like the experienced kisser he is, hands gripping your waist to pull you as close as possible, a roll of your hips has both your breaths hitching, but he guides you to do it again, this time harder.

The sensation forces you to part for air, gasping and gripping his shirt like a lifeline. “Christ, Baby…You’re really revved…” He gasped reverently, wide eyes looking up at your flushed visage.

“Need you, Steve…Now.” You sound almost feral as you speak before attaching your lips to his neck, kissing and biting a trail to the sweet spot you know hides just below his ear, marked by a cute little freckle like an X on a treasure map.

“Shit…Mmhmm…” He managed around a groan as his hands seemed to find their life again, finding their way under your skirt, where he let out another curse from how wet you were. “All this just from smelling me? Fuck…” His fingertips trailed over the cloth, giving you the barest form of friction before he was tugging your panties aside to run them through your folds, coating the digits in your slick before slipping in with a slow in-and-out motion.

Every breath you took carried that scent and only served to rile you up even more, it was addicting, a drug of a whole other caliber, and Steve’s movements caused your breathing to speed up, which meant you were taking even more in. You have the fleeting thought that you might be able to cum just from the scent alone, but it’s quickly discarded, no need for such measures when Steve is more than happy to give you exactly what you need.

You back arches suddenly, pressing your chest to his, when he crooks his fingers inside you, brushing against that spongy spot with a practiced ease while the heel of his hand presses against your poor neglected clit.

“Steve…!” You gasp and earn a teasing, almost mean, chuckle in return.

“Love the way you say my name, Baby.” He purred, watching the way your face changes with each new wave of pleasure. “C’mon, Sweet girl, lemme hear it again.” Then he crooks his finger again, just like before.

“Fuck-! Steve, please…!” You whimper, the need for more than just fingers growing more desperate by the moment.

“Please what?” He prompts, though you both know he knows what you want.

“Need you…” Words are getting lost in your head, all that remains are his touch and scent ping-ponging around in your mind.

“You have me.” He knows he’s being mean, but he can’t find it in him to care, not when you look so sweet all desperate and wanton for him.

His smirk widens when you make a frustrated sound and your eyes crack open to look down at him, gaze misty and pupils blown out so wide they’re almost entirely black. “N-need you to fu-fuck me…Ngh, please…!” He can see it took all the remaining brain cells in your poor head to string those words together, so he nods and pulls his fingers free slowly.

Normally you’d whine at the loss, but right then, you couldn’t care less, you were going to get what you want, what you need.

Steve took hold of you with ease and pulled your shirt over your head, the lack of bra would be something he teased you about later, then shifted you both to lay out on the couch before sitting up on his knees, digging into his jeans to pull out a condom. “Get those out of the way while I take care of this.” He ordered, a fast desperation bleeding into his own voice, he was barely more put together than you.

Wordlessly you pealed your panties off and tossed them to the floor, not bothering to pay attention to where they landed. Settling back on the couch gave you a perfect view of Steve’s body as he rolled the condom on, hairy chest, soft tummy that hid lean muscle from all the sports he played in high school, strong arms that flexed just right with every movement, and a cock that you were entirely unashamed to admit you dreamed about almost every night.

Once the protection was in place he descended on you once more, lips attaching to your neck to leave wet kisses and little red marks that would be purple before morning, while his shaft settle between your soaked folds to rut against you, the head bumping against your clit sending pleasant zings through you. But it wasn’t enough.

Reaching down, you lined him up with your entrance and guided him in on a slow push. Fucking Steve had to be slow, lest you hurt yourself, he was too thick to go too hard too quickly.

Thankfully, at this point, with the number of times you’d taken him, the adjustment period was very short. All he needed to know you were ready was the barest pull on his hips and he was off.

His hands gripped the couch cushions under you while yours roamed his body before your arms settled around his shoulders, hands twisting in his mussed hair, pulling him down so he was chest to chest with you. This gave you two things, the hair on his chest stimulated your nipples and with him this close you could bury your face in his neck and breathe in his stronger than before scent with ease.

Moans and gasps left both of you with every thrust, his tip kissing your cervix and brushing against your g-spot while his pelvic rubbed against your clit, his hard breathing in your ear and the filthy half-finished sentences he murmured.

“So good for me…Perfect fucking pussy…So wet’n’tight…Christ, never wanna stop…” A river of sweet debauchery flowing from sinful lips while you both chase your pleasure.

You were already dangerously close, but the stretch, the depth, the sensations, had that heat in your belly building faster and faster, like a furnace had made its home inside you, and Steve could feel every spark as you grew tighter around him, legs quiver and pulling him in like you were worried he’d pull away, but he was so close himself, he was sure he’d die if he did.

Your nails dug into his skin, leaving red marks that made him hiss with pleasure, as you teetered on that edge, high breathy noises leaving your lips as the coil just seemed to get tighter and tighter, it was torture.

“C’mon…” He gasped, hot breath fanning over your sweaty skin. “Cum for me, Baby…Cum, Cum, Cum…” He moaned, voice quickly going broken and devolving into whimpers of his own.

It was like your body was waiting for his permission as that coil snapped and your whole body lit up, arms and legs shaking, pussy clamping down on him like a vice, vision going white, a cry of what you’re pretty sure was his name falling from your lips.

And he wasn’t far behind you, heat blooming low in your belly as he filled the condom with a shaking moan, arms going weak as he settled on top of you, resting on his haunches to keep from squishing you.

The pair of you laid there panting for a long while, basking in the afterglow and enjoying the aftershocks, before he pulled out and discarded the condom, then settled back on the couch with you fitted snuggly in his arms.

“So…Less hairspray then?”

[hidefdoritos]

Adventures in Stage Costuming

I am Costume Mistress for a play this Friday/Saturday

Had pants for everybody except three guys

We'll call them Landon, Mark, and Joe, because that's not their names but it's close enough for me to remember 'em.

Had everyone self-report pants sizes.

Spent last Saturday in Salvation Army (I know, I know) thrifting pants in the requisite sizes.

washed the pants

kept forgetting to go to rehearsals and have a try-on sesh (adhd go zoom)

Rehearsal today had lunch break

Handed out the pants and told them to come show me.

Landon

(tall, skinny, all leg, 32 x 34)

announces "THEY'RE CALVIN KLEIN!" at his standard volume, bursts into the gymnasium, and slides across the basketball court on his socks.

He does a little spin for me and I approve.

My assistant (fun person who we'll call Lydia) asks, "Can you move?"

Landon breaks into the Orange Justice fortnite dance, with a little extra hip swaggle for emphasis.

(cue laughter from the cast)

(this is nothing less than I expected from a man who once won a cardboard boat race by making a surfboard and kicking his way across.)

Success!

Order him to go put his pants on his special labeled hanger.

(only you are allowed to touch only your special labeled hanger, on pain of death and dismemberment. everyone has been told this many times and They Fear Me.)

Mark

(weightlifter, 34 x 32)

walks in like his legs are chopsticks.

Shirt is not tucked in.

Zipper made it about halfway up

Lydia looks concerned. "Are they buttoned?" she asks.

"Yes," Mark wheezes, and the tone of his voice is one of fear.

(Landon finds this hilarious.)

Mark hobbles in a little spin for me

can almost hear the fabric whimpering for mercy

they are too tight in the everything.

choke down laughter

"Go change. Carefully," I say.

(maybe I can let them out? probably not)

"Do you just need dark dress pants?" asks Mark, voice still strained.

"Yeah?"

"Can I bring my own?"

"Yeah."

task-failed-successfully?.jpg

the goal was to have more pants that the drama department owned

but the more important goal is for him to have pants, I guess.

Order him to bring his dress pants to Monday rehearsal for approval

(and, once approved, to put them on his special labeled hanger which nobody else can touch, on pain of death and dismemberment)

and to bring the ill-fit pants back to me.

will put them in a tote to think about their crimes until next play.

Joe

(track and field athlete, 29 x 32)

(listen, this man has a 29" waist and a 39" hip.

I know women who would kill for a 10" differential.

It's not his most prominent feature, but he's draggin' the wagon.)

(should also emphasize that he's my little brother & I'm not being weird abt it we commiserate about problems of Pants Fit all the time.)

Joe struts into the gym.

The pants fit!

They are a leeetle bit snug in the thighs.

"Can I keep them?" he asks.

He does a little spin for me

taxidermy-fox.jpg

From the back, the fit is more accurately described as "gratuitous."

"Joe, do a squat!" Landon encourages, as he himself charges across the gym into a Newsies jump and almost turfs it.

Joe tries carefully

gets about halfway down

(didn't think he'd get that far)

"Never mind," he says sheepishly, standing back up.

"Go change. Carefully," I say.

(maybe I can let them out?)

backstage

Joe hands me the pants.

He's been interested lately in listening to me ramble about sewing stuff.

I turn Mark's pants inside out

literally just serged together, no extra fabric anywhere

"Rats!" I say creatively, and show Joe how this does nobody any favors.

They don't get to go on Mark's special labeled hanger. I chuck them into a storage tote to consider their crimes until next play.

I turn Joe's pants inside out

praise be to Van Heusen brand

It ain't much, but it's honest seam allowances.

start rambling at him about how it all works

there's a scoatch extra on the outer seams and inseams of both legs

and the center back has extra built in!

The waistband fits him fine but the everything else needs More.

Promise my best work

Joe smiles with hope.

back in my room

never altered pants before

brief moment of doubting why I signed up for this, my sewing abilities, the meaning of life, etc.

* Knuckle Crack *

Turn on a Nicole Rudolph video for fun sewing accompaniment

Decide not to mess with the complicated parts (pockets, front seams, zipper, and the seam intersections in the undercarriage)

Sew the replacement seams first, anchoring the replacement ends HARD in the seam allowance AND in the original seam threads

Cut those OG seam threads and knot them off HARD

The OG threads are a chain stitch sorta thing, so once they're clipped, all I gotta do is pull and they ZOOP right off

(most satisfying thing in my life btw)

head back to gym with newly embiggened pants.

Joe takes the pants. "Do you need me to try them on?"

*looks into the camera like I'm on The Office*

"Yes Joe, lemme see how they work."

He leaves.

oh gosh these better fit

I didn't spend two hours hunting pants in a Salvation Army (I know, I know) and half an hour ZOOP-ing Joe's seams just to be 1 for 3 on the pants actually fitting the actors.

Joe returns.

!!!!!

If I thought he was strutting before

This kid fully dances into the room.

You know how it is when you walk into a thrift store and the sign says "Half price color of the week: Orange" and then you find stuff you love and it has orange tags too?

That was his level of enthusiasm.

"They fit!" he cries.

He does the little spin for me

it's incredible

they fit, no longer gratuitous in the seat, there's thigh space, his knees bend, the waistband stays up without a belt!! definitely need to be ironed but they look So Good

I can't stop smiling

so relieved it turned out well.

Joe's smiling

He does a little Pants Dance of glee.

Gosh. I know he likes them, and dress pants are so hard to find.

"Do you want to keep them?" I offer.

"How much?" he asks, wallet appearing in his hand.

The receipt from Salvation Army (I know, I know) shows $4.59.

I offer "$5 for the pants and $5 for a half hour of labor?" (yes that's too cheap, but he's a college student and also my brother.)

"Look what I've got!" he says, all but throwing a $10 at me.

"Great! I say. "Now Joe, listen closely.

Go change carefully and put them on your special labeled hanger. Only you are allowed to touch only your special labeled hanger, on pain of death and dismemberment."

"Yes ma'am!" he chirps with a salute.

[hangovercurse]

Nerd Love

After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.

Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2237

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.

You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.

You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.

At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.

After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.

You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.

But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.

You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.

“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.

It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.

“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.

The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.

“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.

Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.

“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.

You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.

You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”

The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.

“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.

Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.

You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”

Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character

Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.

Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”

Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.

Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.

“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”

“It’s cool, I guess.”

The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.

Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.

You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.

 After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.

Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.

They’re so cute together #goals

Love their friendship

Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N

Poor Kyle ☹

The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love

And they say they aren’t dating…

Can’t believe the unprofessionalism

Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise

The flirting!!! The looks!!!

I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please

Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.

You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.

“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.

He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”

You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”

He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”

You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.

Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.

You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.

“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.

Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.

You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.

You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”

Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.

“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”

“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.

Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.

“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.

Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”

“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.

When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! 

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture​ ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

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

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished. 

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations. 

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision. 

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview. 

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after. 

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life. 

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through. 

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall. 

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that. 

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third.  The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red. 

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her. 

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question. 

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes. 

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head. 

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today. 

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought. 

I was already planning on it. 

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter​ 

[rjhpandapaws]

What We Grow from Ashes

Ch 1: First Small Steps

Tw: Alcoholism

Hank understood that things would change immediately after the revolution. Red tape issues like this usually took years. He had still expected some kind of change from Connor though. Clothes, hair, anything; but he was exactly the same. He kept his stiff posture and habit of bending every which way to do what was asked of him even when it was clear that he didn’t want to. Hank could understand. Everything he had known had been changed and clinging to his old routines was the only thing that was comfortable. He was going through the same thing with his drink. Whiskey was familiar and the withdrawal that came with being sober for too long was painful. Hank still wished that he would get rid of that fucking jacket. Even before the revolution one of the albeit many things he had disliked about androids wall all of the markings. The goal seemed like it had been to make them as human as possible. Then they had turned around and labelled them as machines with bright lights and what they were quite literally spelled out over their back. Yet, after everything, Connor had still kept the jacket. Hank couldn’t understand why for the life of him.

Connor had been working near constantly as well. Hank hadn’t seen him take a day off. It was that constant working that Gave Hank an idea. He could invite Connor over on a weekend to visit Sumo. He asked about the fur ball often enough. It was a small change that probably wouldn’t effect his schedule too much. He found it safe to assume Connor didn’t work on the weekends. “Hey Con?” He started while they were trying to tackle the ever growing pile of paperwork that built up between cases, “Do you have any plans this weekend?” Connor looked up at him and his LED cycled yellow for a couple of turns, “No, why?” “Would you like to come visit Sumo? He misses you.” Hank replied. Connor tilted his head and his LED cycled again as he thought about it, “That sounds nice actually.” “Cool.” He said with a nod, “I’ll pick up some stuff Friday after work and you’re can come  over whenever you’re ready.” “Alright.” Connor said as he got back to work and that seemed to mark the end of their conversation.

The week went by quietly which was a pleasant change of pace. The rougher days made him want to drink more than usual. The itch was always there, but the stressful days made it harder to resist. On the days they dealt with kids alive or otherwise Hank always had a glass of whiskey. The memories of Cole always disarmed him completely and the itch won out. As promised, when they got out on Friday Hank went to get supplies for the weekend. Connor seemed to enjoy sampling flavored shampoos so Hank grabbed a couple of those. One labeled as Tropical Breeze and another with a name he couldn’t pronounce. He found a brand of carbonated thirium packaged in old fashioned glass soda bottles and Hank thought Connor might like it. He picked up a six pack of light beers for himself. The justification he used was that a good host wouldn’t let their guest drink alone, and having hard liquor would have been inappropriate. He knew better though. He could have bought soda just as easily; he bought alcohol because he was an alcoholic. He was in recovery, but an alcoholic all the same. There were some days he was going to be weak.

He spent most of Saturday morning doing the cleaning he had missed during the week so his house wouldn’t be as much of a disaster. He wouldn’t be passed out this time either which was an added bonus. Connor’s scans would probably find things he had missed, but Hank felt better with his house at least being visually clean. It was around ten in the morning when he heard the doorbell buzz that was distinct to Connor. Sumo let out a howl to accompany it. Hank rolled his eyes at the dog before he moved to answer the door. There was Connor, in the same clothes as usual. Down to that fucking jacket. Hank kept the comment that crept to the tip of his tongue to himself and settled on a greeting instead as he stepped out of the way so Connor could come inside, “Hey kid.” “Hello Lieutenant.” He replied as he stepped out of his shoes. Connor held his hand out for Sumo as the big dog came over to investigate him again, “Hello Sumo.” “Call me Hank please Connor, we’re off the clock.” He remarked as he closed the front door. “There’s no reason to be so formal when it’s just us.” “Right, Hank.” Came the distracted reply.

Hank turned to find Connor seated on the floor with both of his hand buried in Sumo’s fur. The over sized fur ball in mention looked like this was the best day of his life and had pressed as much of himself against Connor as he physically could. Had the kid been anything other than an android he would have been flattened under the furry mass. The sight made Hank smile. He let them be and made his way to the kitchen to put away what he had been using to clean. His house was cleaner than he had ever remembered it being; which probably said a few things about him that weren’t all that great. “You got a lot done.” Connor’s voice came from immediately behind him and Hank nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus kid, I oughta put a fuckin bell on you.” Hank said dryly once he had gotten his heartbeat back under control, “But yeah, thanks.” Connor gave that odd smile of his, “You seem to be doing a lot better as well.” “Uh, yeah,” Hank cleared his throat. Of course Connor would have noticed being an investigator and all that, “I’ve been trying to cut back on my drinking.”

The conversation died after that and Hank moved to go get the shampoo bottles. The quiet was awkward and he didn’t know what else to do. When he came back Connor looked like he was deep in thought and his LED was rolling on a solid steady yellow. Hank didn’t want to interrupt so he set the bottles on the table and waited for Connor to find the words for his thoughts. “Hank?” He started with hesitation hitching his words, “What are you supposed to do when you want to change but don’t know where to start?” Right out with the hard questions then. He sighed, “That mostly depends on the change.” Hank took a moment to think, he needed to be careful with the words he chose. Eventually he decided that an example might be better. “Like getting to the point that I wanted to cut back on my drinking took getting bitch slapped by an asshole who decided to break into my apartment through the window.” That got a laugh out of Connor and Hank kept going, “But picking where to start was difficult. There are a lot of resources ranging from AA to substance abuse counseling. There have also been people who have decided to go it on their own and have done pretty well. I decided to try that out as well because I can always get help later. It just takes weighing your options against what you are capable of doing.” Connor gave a slow nod but his LED was still solidly on yellow, “So if you wanted to step out from under what other people expect you to be, what would you do?”

So that was the thing bothering him. Finding a place to start, he already knew what he wanted. Had he been talking to anyone else Hank would have suggested winging it. That wasn’t how Connor worked, he needed something structured, a plan of attack. Hank had only ever had to redefine who he was, he’d been born with agency and autonomy. He hadn’t had to build his sense of self up from scratch, but he would still try and help as best he could. “I would start small.” He suggested vaguely, “Change something that I have absolute control over. Make it clear that I don’t want to be associated with what it used to be, if at all.” Connor looked down at his arms, his jacket sleeves if Hank had to guess and there was a flash of red in his otherwise steady yellow LED. “I have to think about this.” He said mostly to himself, then to Hank, “Is it alright if I come over again next weekend too?” “Of course.” Hank agreed, “We’re friends. If you ever need me, I’m just a call away.” Connor gave another absent nod, “I think I am going to leave.” “Alright, be safe kid.” He replied as Connor made his way to the door.  He didn’t reply, but he did stop to give Sumo another round of petting before he left. Hank turned back to the shampoo bottles and sighed. They could wait till next time he supposed. He picked them up to put them away.

He was proud of Connor. This was a big thing and he could understand why he was so worried. Hank would be there with him though so he wouldn’t have to go through this alone. They could take their first small steps together.

[crystal-moon-101]

Right! So I’ve decided to do some redesigns again, planning on doing the main villains of Generator Rex, Ben 10 and The Secret Saturdays. Vilgax and Argost will be coming up soon, but I thought I’d start with Van Kleiss, as this fellow has been an interest of mine for sometime, in terms of the potential of his character. Unlike the other two, I’ve always just...felt like Van Kleiss didn’t need to be dog kicking evil to be a villain for Rex, that being evil for the sake of evil wasn’t something they needed to do to make him and Rex opposed to each other. I’m not saying to make Van Kleiss soft hearted and kind to every person he meets, but add more of a complicated story to him, show more to this man than just a jerk who likes being a jerk. After all, this is a show about things not being so black and white. So I shall share my rewrite background for him! I should also note that I mentioned in the Hong Kong Gang redesign that Circe is his daughter, so that will tie into this. Warning for mentions of deaths by illnesses and murder!

“Van Kleiss is a man you could say has not had the easiest of life, especially when it comes to social things. Raised by strict parents with high expectations, he felt like he was never good enough for them, eventually kicked out of their home for not living up to their ideals. He wasn’t exactly good with making things either, coming off as odd, a strong loner who was easy to mess with. Most of this resulted in him being anti-social for quite sometime, afraid to reach a out hand to people incase they bite back. Then, while trying to live his young adult life the best he could with what he had, he was caught up in a terrible accident, one that resulted in him losing his left arm. He was stuck in recovery for a long time, with no visitors of course. He was quite use to being alone at this point, a cast out in people’s eyes, so you could imagine his surprise when meeting his physiotherapy, a bright, young woman around his age by the name Cassandra, who was in no way put off by Van Kleiss’s demeanor. He will admit, he was taken aback by how pleasant she was, so chipper and ready to strike up a conversation with him, kind and gentle towards him as she helped him learn to live with a prosthetic, and yet would also respect his boundaries, treating him....human, for a lack of a better word. At first, Van Kleiss was keen to just stay quiet and ignore her, mostly uttering how short sentences to try and make things process quicker. But there was just something about her that made him feel alright, calm, as if those walls he built up to protect himself weren’t needed when she was around. It was like some strange magic Cassandra had, slowly able to get him to open up more, share stories, ideas, goals, dreams, thoughts, never once judging Van Kleiss for the person he is, while others had been so quick to. Quite the people pleasing person she was, the opposite to Van Kleiss, but he wasn’t complaining, especially when the fool started realizing his he beginning to fall head over heels for this woman. He was a bumbling mess when asking her out the first time, and yet it somehow worked. Life seemed to be going up hill since then, the two hitting it off so fast, becoming a couple, then finances, and suddenly marriage was right around the corner. And just when Van Kleiss felt like he didn’t need anyone else other than her, another surprise came in the presence of their daughter, Circe. A family life wasn’t something he had thought about, nor did he think he would ever get the chance, but here he was and he was happy to be there, he had even gone back to school to study. But...he bad luck in life would soon return. Circe had only just turned five when it began to happen, and no one had seen it coming. Cassandra was starting to seem off, tired, dizzy and feeling faint often, at first assuming it was the flu or something...but she didn’t get better, instead getting worse. She started collapsing, struggling to breath, eventually coughing up blood. She had gotten sick, a disease infecting her that had no known cure. The best they could do was pray that she could recover, could beat it, after all she was a tough woman, with a lot of hope and love from her family. Sadly, love isn’t always going to be enough, and Cassandra passed away after saying her final goodbyes to her daughter and husband... Struck with grief, Van Kleiss went quiet, a haze with his manners. He wanted to scream, cry, yell at the world for taking away his love, the one who showed him why he should keep going in life. But he didn’t allow himself, for he had to keep himself steady for the sake of his daughter. Circe needed him, and he was afraid to see what would happen if he gave into those painful feelings of grief inside him. So he locked it away, and pushed forward in life, eventually graduating school and began looking for a job. He applied and worked for a few places, but none of them really stick, especially since he still struggled to get along with people. Many were still uncomfortable around him, or quick to crack a nasty joke at his expense. He did his best to ignore it, again locking it all away, pushing forward for him and his daughter. And then, one day, he caught word of a project in the making. The nanite project, rumors of microscope machines being built to do many tasks, like solve world hunger, regrow limbs and even cure disease. The thought of something able to help others survive something his wife could not...it caught Van Kleiss’s interest, something he could do to honor his late wife. And so, after some applications and interviews, Van Kleiss eventually found himself landing a role in this project, which also meant him and Circe would move to the labs location. It was hard to pull Circe away from the life she already knew, but he felt it was for the better. But there were to noticeable issues right away. Again, the way people saw and treated him, and his general demeanor sparked some problems with other scientists. Most kept it professional, but many cast doubtful or harsh clears his way, or mutter whispers about him. He was use to most of this, though...he did end up caught in quite the nasty rivalry with a certain man. Caesar Salazar. Neither of them knew exactly why, but right from the bat the two did not like each other. Maybe it was because they were similar in many ways, maybe it’s because they both were bad a socializing, maybe each other’s backgrounds caused some sparks. They just could not stand each other, quick to criticize the other and speak badly. It did help that Van Kleiss felt like he had no one backing him up, as many were already familiar with the Salazars and were even friends with them, while Van Kleiss was alone in the ordeal. Strangely though, the opposite could be said with the younger brother, Rex Salazar. It didn’t take long for Circe and Rex to meet and become friends, given they were the only two kids there, which often resulted in Van Kleiss watching and babysitting the two in his lab space, sometimes even getting dragged into their games. He was happy that his daughter wouldn’t be lonely out here, but Rex being her friend wasn’t why he thought the kid was good, it was rather his friendship with Van Kleiss himself. Rex was a lovely kid, very kind and understanding for his age. While he cracked jokes and often got into trouble, he treated Van Kleiss like a human being, and often liked talking to the man and asking him many questions. Van Kleiss was a little stand-offish at first, but the kid managed to soften his heart a little. Things seemed to be going as good as they could for a while, but then things started happening. It first started with Rex’s accident. Van Kleiss had been watching Circe and Rex, but when he got caught in something, the two snuck off to play hide and seek. Next thing anyone knew, Rex got caught in a lab accident in the main nanite room. It took a while to get him out of there, as there had been a lock down to prevent any loss nanites to escape, but he was quick to be rushed to the medical section of the labs. He was found to be close to death, with no normal means to save him, but Rex also had a few nanites in him from the accident. However, instead of taking them out, the nanite project group, including Van Kleiss, decided in the end to try and use the nanites to save him, with the help of the Omega to the side. After a long struggle, it eventually began to work. Things became complicated for Rex, now being used in testing, developing strange technological powers he was struggling to control, now feeling off...different. Van Kleiss and Circe were there to support him, but because Van Kleiss had been the one who was suppose to watch him before the accident, there was tension between the Salazar and Kleiss families. Eventually, while there were new changes, lab life started to go back to focusing on the project, even a new member called Ebony Hale (Black Knight) joining as an assistant. Things started going back to normal, or as normal as they could be, until that fateful day. Word got out in the chief scientist that their sponsors, The Consortium, had no only put a unknown spy among them, but were planning to use the nanites to take over the world. A large debate broke out on what to do, some arguing to destroy the nanites and all the data on them, some saying to keep the project going but find a way to keep the Consortium out of it, and some even saying they just wanted to do the project and didn’t care if the Consortium taking control. Van Kleiss was part of the side saying to keep the work, but kick out the Consortium. But eventually it was decided to destroy the project. But the spy must have caught wind of this, as while they began to remove their work, the Consortium sent in a heavily armed team to take out everyone on the project. During the chaos many things happened. Not having time to get rid of everything, members of the project decide to give Rex the Omega to hold onto, as he has enough experience with nanites to handle it for a few hours. Van Kleiss did try to say otherwise, not thinking it was fear on Rex, especially when his parents and Caesar agreed to this. In the end they did end up giving Rex the Omega, with the plan that he would meet Caesar at the docking bay. Van Kleiss had originally wanted to go with him and take Circe, but next thing they knew armed soldiers came in and everyone spilt. Rex managed to wander by as not only did the soldiers have no interest with the kid, but Ebony, who turned out to be the spy, ended up letting him past without knowing what he was hiding. Van Kleiss and Circe ended up running into Rex’s parents, who were busy trying to wipe the computers. The three parents got into quite the arguments, with Van Kleiss eventually leaving the room with his daughter, only to be confronted by some soldiers. They noted that the room that Van Kleiss just left was locked, so they made him an...offer. Either he unlocks the door and let them in, or they kill him and Circe where they stand. Despite how harsh the Salazars were on Van Kleiss, even he didn’t want to make this choice...but after everything, and looking down at his own daughter...he made the choice to let them in, holding his daughter as they heard gun fire. With everything coming to a head, it suddenly happened. With scientist messing with computers and machines, soldiers raining bullets everything, and Rex off somewhere glitching out with the Omega, it just became too much and the nanite event happened. A massive explosion that sent out a wave of unfinished nanites across the world, and for Van Kleiss, everything went white briefly... Then, he opened his eyes...finding himself feeling different. To his shock, he found himself to be mutated, his prosthetic arm gone, now replaced with an arm of wood and vines, a deep connection to the earth around him. Thankfully, his daughter was still by his side, but she two had changed, with the agility to emit a powerful scream. As days turned to weeks and then to months, Van Kleiss found himself turning his old home into something new...into a place that him and the out cast could belong into...But after everything that happened, the things he lost and was hurt by, he began to put up those walls again. He could no longer risk getting attached, not if he were to complete his goals....” And there we go! My tale about Van Kleiss in my rewrite. It does go into other things that I will eventually write down that happened in this rewrite, but it’s a good place to start as any. I wanted to give him a tragic back story, something that shows why he behaves the way he does today, and how it ties into his goals. I like the idea that he does believe in the dream of turning everyone EVO and ruling them, but so that he can start a new age and era where people don’t have to be out casts anymore. After all, if everyone is different a monster, then no one can be judged, at least in his mindset. So Abysus is a safe haven for EVOs that need a home, and he does want the best for his subject. The only problem is that one, Van Kleiss doesn’t want to get deeply attached to anyone, as many past friendships eventually failed on him, so it’s bound to happen again, and two, he can get a little power made because well, he’s spent so long being the underdog and kick to the ground, so it feels great to be able to be the one standing tall. It also helps make him feel like Rex’s opposite, not only with the nature vs technology design for the two, but the idea that one is someone who wants to get attached to people, while the other is someone who doesn’t want to get attached anymore. A tragic hero and a tragic villain, who have history tied together. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my version of Van Kleiss, and for hearing me ramble! 💙

[write-orflight]

Like Real People Do. Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Prologue  Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though), 

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N Y’all are really benefiting from my insomnia rn. I do have a plan to go back to my regular posting schedule but for right now enjoy the things starting to happen. Much love, Cia

       Chapter 3: The bugs and the dirt  

You’ve been on the team for about 6 months now, and you were loving it. Sure it was long hours, constant danger, and mounds of paperwork but you couldn’t be happier. You felt like you were doing what you were meant to do. The team had fully accepted you in the family around month 2. You and Morgan had become close after your “personal day” in October. He expressed that he knew what it was like to lose a parent and though he’d never understand losing both so quickly he offered you condolences and free drinks with him and Prentiss that night. Since then, the 3 of you have become good friends. 

There was always the occasional girls night with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, Dinner at Rossi’s and afternoon picnics with Hotch and Jack(which eventually just turned into you babysitting Jack while Aaron took a deserved nap). Your favorite however, was Saturday’s with Spencer. 

The two of you had fallen asleep that Friday night him and Garcia came over to watch Doctor Who. You woke up laid on top of him, legs tangled while your head was resting on his chest tucked under his chin. His arms were wrapped around you, hand resting heavily on the small of your back. You try to get up without waking him but of course you do, he startles awake in turn startling you causing you to fall off the couch. 

“Oh, Y/N,I’m so sorry--” He starts, immediately flushing. He stands to immediately help you up.

“No worries, Spen. Not made of glass.” You laugh. 

He blushes more at the new nickname. “Spen?” he asks. 

“Uh, yea.” You say. “Do you not like it?” 

“No-no, I like it.” He says. 

“Ok then.” You smile. “Do you have plans today?” He shakes his head. “Well, Saturday’s when I usually get coffee and work on homework at a cafe down the street, do you maybe wanna tag along?” you ask. He nods furiously. 

And every Saturday you guys had free since Spencer would meet you in the small cafe near your apartment. He would order an Americano with an ungodly amount of sugar and you would get a cold brew, despite it being winter still and you would sit and talk while you did work. Often he would help you with your thesis, telling you things you should add or consider. Sometimes you would just sit and talk about books you’ve both read or often you would explain the plots to various reality shows you know Spencer would never watch but he would sit and listen intently just like he did with everything you said. He treated every word that came out of your mouth like it was the most important thing in the world, treated every minuscule fact he learned about you, like it was treasured information to solving the mystery in front of him. You had become his personal cryptid. 

Of course the rest of the team had caught on to your Saturdays together, you worked with profilers and a very gossipy tech analyst. The amount of times you two had walked in together from being called in for a case last minute was enough to give you away. You thought back to a very uncomfortable conversation you had with Hotch one morning. You had come to drop off files JJ just pawned off to you to take upstairs. You held up your hand in a small wave walking into the office door. You put the files on his desk, starting to walk out when he stops you. 

“Y/N, we need to talk for a second. Close the door.” Hotch says. You nodded closing the door. You immediately tried to rattle off everything you’d done wrong to Hotch that could possibly warrant a talk. I forgot his coffee order that one time it was my turn, I missed Jack’s birthday once, I took a nap in the file room. You thought, all weren’t good but none warranted a closed door talk. 

“Yes, sir?” you ask, he gives you a weird look before it dissipates into his usual scowl,  neither of you used to the professional formalities still. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the FBI’s fraternization policy.” He says. 

“Yes, sir…?” You say, not knowing where he was going with this. You weren’t fraternizing with anyone and no one knew that more than you except maybe your right hand. 

“Now there’s things I’d be willing to overlook as long as you don’t let it affect your work. But you would have to tell me and you would have to fill out an office relationship form--” 

“Whoa-wait a second.” you say. “What’re we talking about?” 

“If there’s something going on between you and Spencer you would have--”

“Hotch! There’s nothing going on between me an--What?” You say, you knew you had to be beet red right now. God this is humiliating. You thought.

“Really?” he said. 

“Yes! There’s nothing going on.” 

“But you guys have been together every week--” 

God, how did he even know that. “He’s helping me with my thesis, Hotch!” you exclaim, if this conversation continued you were going to be the same shade of red as the shirt you were wearing. “Why do you even know about that?” 

“Garcia.” he says, matter-of-factly. 

Of course, Garcia. 

 “Well, there’s nothing going on so now you can save the fraternization speech for someone else.” You move to stand. 

“You want there to be.” He points out. “Something going on, I mean.” 

“Oh my god. Aaron, I have a deep amount of respect for you and I revere you very much as a role model.” you say. “That being said, I will not be discussing my nonexistent love life with my boss! Jesus!” You exclaim. You see the smile ghosting his lips. He always enjoyed embarrassing you. “Can I leave now?” you asked. 

He nodded, waving his hand to dismiss you. You walk out of the office back to your desk, conveniently across from Spencer’s. 

“What did Hotch need?” He asked you. 

“Nothing!” You say instantly. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he had been reading.

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

Now you were here in the present, at a bar with the team celebrating the final results you had gotten back on your doctoral thesis. The Diploma hasn't come in the mail yet but it was official, you were officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. 

“To Dr. Y/N.” Garcia said, raising the shots Prentiss had just handed to you, Morgan and JJ. Rossi and Hotch raised their beers and Spencer clinked his water he’d been nursing to your shot glass. You smiled at her, before taking the shot quickly grimacing at the harshness of the alcohol. 

“Thanks, you guys.” You say, smiling widely. Your plan before to celebrate your doctorate had been to draw a bubble bath and try not to think of the student loans you’d accumulated. But of course Garcia being the genius and snoop that she was found out your results and insisted on a night out. 

“Y/N.” Emily said, getting your attention. “I think you should get the next round of drinks because that guy at the bar has been staring at you all night.” She said, leaning close to you to point at him. You look up to see a fairly built, tan man, with brown eyes and a well-maintenanced beard. Due to the amount of drinks you had and your inhibitions lowered, you smile at him automatically. He smiles back, lifting his drink to his mouth still looking at you. You look back down. 

“I don’t know, Emily.” You say, looking down at your mixed drink. 

“Come on, Y/N. We both know it’s been a while and you said you weren’t going to focus on that until you finished your doctorate.” Emily smirks, nudging you. “Now you’re finished so, come on, write him a prescription, Doc.” She laughs, inducing a few giggles from the rest of the group. Except for Rossi and Hotch who weren’t paying attention and Spencer, who seemed bothered but you didn’t know by what. 

“Hold on, mama, I have to know what a while means.” Derek says, laughing. 

“It means a while~”  Emily says, exaggerating the last word so that it was extra long. 

“Yea, a long~ while.” Garcia says, joining in, giggling all the while. 

“Ok, didn’t know you guys were moonlighting as comedians.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You turn towards Derek, the alcohol clearly lowered your inhibitions enough to answer his question. “I mean, I went through the phase everyone went through in the first couple years of college. Partying, drinking, and unfortunately ending up in a frat guys bed, but after a while I realized that I had different goals then most of my peers so I put all my focus on getting my degrees. I’d say that was when I was what? 19?” You said, recalling. 

Morgan almost did a spit take, “6 years?” 

“Don’t make it sound so incredulous!” You say, drinking your mixed drink. “I was busy!” 

“Sounds like you and Pretty boy can start your own celibacy club!” Morgan says, patting Spencer back, laughing. 

“I’m not celibate, Morgan.” Reid says, rolling his eyes. 

“Pfft,” you blow a raspberry, incredulously. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten any?” Whoa, you had to have been drunk because you never would’ve asked anything like that sober. 

“It certainly hasn’t been 6 years.” He says back to you, smirking over his glass of water. 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes. “Seriously, When?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

You would. 

You would very much like to know. 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter because I’ll still be the last one after I go get that guy’s number.” You say, downing your drink for liquid courage before standing to go to the bar, towards the guy who had been looking at you before. Sure, your game was a little rusty but you were a profiler and now a doctor of psychology, men were...simple. 

Reid watched  you go, your hips swaying way more as they usually do as you sauntered towards the man her and Prentiss had been talking about before. He saw you smiling at the guy who had just purchased you another drink. You trailed a hand down the man’s chest, as he moved closer into your space. Spencer looked away, he was going to be sick if he kept watching that. 

“Hey, Emily, do you see that?” Garcia said.

“No, Penelope what is it?” She said indulging her. 

“It’s our friend, slowly turning into the green eyed monster.” Garcia said looking back to Reid, the table erupting in laughter. 

Reid leaned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure, you don’t.” Emily says, rolling her eyes. “Look Spence, If you like her you should say something and if you don’t, you can’t get upset about her looking for something else out there.” Spencer didn’t say anything to that, opting to turn his attention back to you. He watched you laugh at something the guy had said and a smile crossed his face. That wasn’t your laugh, he knew your laugh. Your real laugh, and thanks to his eidetic memory he could (and did) replay it whenever he wanted. He knew your laugh and that wasn’t it. 

He watched as you sauntered back up to the group. He already had trouble focusing on anything that wasn’t your body most of the time and the dress you wore tonight didn’t make it any better. A simple, deep blue dress that held your curves perfectly with a large slit up the leg that was probably to make it easier to walk in though right now all it was doing was distracting Spencer. You slid into the both back next to Prentiss. 

“So…” Emily said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, I got his number.” You say, nonchalantly. You knew you would, it’s not like regular men were a challenge to you. Every man wanted 2 things; to think they’re funny and to think they’re smart. 

“Nice!” She says, holding her hand out you instantly slap it with your own. “Are you going to call him?” 

“Probably not.” You shrug. “We’ll see if I get bored this week.” 

That causes all the girls in the group to giggle. The night continued, more drinks being put in your system by your friends who want you to truly celebrate. Eventually Rossi and Hotch leave, both hugging you tightly, Hotch whispering a quick “I’m proud of you” in your ear. You smile brightly back at him.

Towards closing time you all leave, you’re a little more sober than before but you’re definitely still tipsy. You all say your goodbyes, promises to see each other at work then Spencer stretches an arm around your waist, ushering you to his car as he agreed to be your DD before.    

He slides you into the seat before climbing in on the drivers side. 

“Thanks Spen, I know you hate driving.” You say, patting Spencer on the leg. 

“No problem, Y/N” He smiles back at you, before turning his attention back to the road. You notice your hands still on his leg. He hasn’t tried to move it or move away from it so the alcohol in your system decides to take a risk and inch your hand up his thigh. One of his hands leaves the steering wheel immediately grasping your hand. 

“Stop.” He says, not sounding entirely convinced that’s what he wants himself. So you ask. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You say, innocently. 

“Obviously, I don’t want you to stop but you’re not sober so you have to.” He says, moving your hand back to your own lap. You decide it’s probably best to concede and lean your head against the cool glass of the window as street lamps roll by. 

Eventually, you make it back to your house. You sigh before turning to Spencer. 

 “Thanks again, Spen.” You say, moving to grab  your bag and the door handle. “I’ll see you at work.” Before you can move fully, Long fingers are circling your wrist. 

“You shouldn’t call him.” He says. 

“What?” You say, dazed by the close contact between you two. 

“The guy from the bar. You shouldn’t call him.” He says. 

“Why not?” You ask. You know the answer, or you think you know the answer but you have to hear him say it. You need to hear him say it. 

“Because I-” He cuts himself off. “I don’t know.” he says, looking down very dejected. 

“Well…” You say. You lean close to him. You guys are close, so close if you wanted you could kiss him and you know he would let you by the way his eyes flutter, pupils dilating instantly when you do. “Will you tell me when you figure it out?” You ask. 

He nods, letting go of the wrist you forgot he was holding. 

“Well then.” You say, getting out of the car and leaning through the open window. “Goodnight, Dr. Reid.” You smile. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Y/L/N.” He smiles back, before driving into the night.

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​

[blondsauduun-reads]

The Revolution That’s Been Singing In The Rain (JATP Reggie X Reader)

Pairing: 1995!Reggie x Reader

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: some swearing?

Plot: Ok so, it’s a pride parade/riot/demo, in 1995 (or so), and the boys go to support Alex, but surprise! There’s music there too! And Reggie likes the person playing the electric violin at the march. But like it starts to rain and they gotta stop with the instruments and get off the stage but they don’t stop singing. So anyway Reggie is in first row and the band was singing a cover of We Will Rock You and Reg of course knows the lyrics as does everyone. So they start singing and dancing very energetically and passionately in the rain. At the end the violin person gives Reggie their number

A/N: nonbinary reader (they/them pronouns) The link to the electric violin cover of we will rock you without the lyrics. Also. This is the first one-shot I’ve ever written and stuff so please be nice :) yes I accept constructive criticism too.

After practice, Alex had finally mustered up the strength to ask his best friends/bandmates,

“So, there’s this gay thing, on Saturday, and I wanted to ask if it you guys wanted to come with me?” The three other guys were listening closely to him, while fiddling around a bit with their instruments.

“It’s okay though, if you don’t.” Hadn’t even given them time to react, let alone answer. “If you don’t wanna come, I mean.”

A second of silence, the three of them surprised, exchanging looks, the blond one dreading the answer.

“No, yeah, dude.” Luke finally said, leaving his guitar on the stand. “We’ll totally go with you!”

“Yeah! We were just shocked that you’d wanna go.” Bobby said, because he and the two other guys had heard about it but weren’t going to bring it up if Alex wasn’t.

“We’re really proud of you, bro,” Reggie said, hugging his neck from behind. Kinda looked awkward. “I wish I was half as brave as you.”

With the whole AIDs thing, the President, his parents, and you know, the anxiety he lived with, Alex couldn’t really live his whole truth most of the time without fearing for his life, so yes, going to a Pride thing was no small feat for the boy.

“Yep, you can let me go now, Reg.” He chuckled, or coughed, because Reggie wasn’t exactly a spaghetti build person, and was hugging his neck rather tightly.

“So when’s the date bro?” Luke sat down on the couch, spreading himself out like pancake batter on a pan.

It was Saturday. Somehow, Reggie convinced them all to paint lil rainbows on either their cheeks or hands. They all looked adorable, sitting in the metro pressed together like anchovies, all with backpacks loaded with water, their respective lunches, and whatever the hell more fitted in the backpack.

Once they got to the station, they went out, following another group of people dressed for a parade, and in a bit more than five minutes, they were smack in the middle of the parade, chanting something in favor of LGBTQ+ rights.

“Do you hear that?” Reggie asked Alex, but like, screaming.

“Yeah, its about to storm, or something.” He said, looking at the sky, which was getting grayer by the minute.

“Not thunder, it’s like,” The black haired squinted in thought. “it’s like, music, I think. Queen.” He said. “Imma go, be right back!”

Reg disappeared in between the queers at the parade, following that sound.

“Reg, no! Shi…” Alex opened and closed his eyes in disapproval and desperation. “Luke! Bobby! We got a rogue bassist!” Bobby and Luke’s reactions to that were similar to Alex’s.

Meanwhile, Reggie had successfully found the source of the music. At a nearby park, was a stage, like those kinds of stages that can be built in like a day, and on top of it, a rock band.

Said like that, it probably doesn’t sound too special, but the thing was, they were playing a We Will Rock You cover, with an electric violin, or that’s what he could tell from a hundred feet distance from the actual stage, so, continuing squishing himself through the crowd, feeling some droplets of rain on his face, he got closer to the band, until he reached a six feet distance.

Shit, the violin was so incredibly pretty, like, it looked like some sort of futuristic weapon. The guy was loving it. The person playing it though, divine; the way they moved their arms and feet and carried themself. Also, yeah, probably the prettiest person Reg had seen to date.

The band, apart from having the violinist, who also was the backup singer, had a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist, also the lead singer.

Anyway, the scene, everyone stomping their feet on the ground, singing the song with the band, remembering the now dead Freddie Mercury and how iconic he was, the energy of all those people, together in the fight for freedom and equality. The revolution. And the fucking rain.

Droplets were suddenly drops, which then started falling faster, and suddenly the band started panicking a bit, they couldn’t break up these vibes, these people.

So, the three with the string instruments put away the instruments, amps, cables and everything as fast as they could, and the drummer rushing his music cylinders into safety, the only ones carrying the music were the people, among which was Reggie, tearing out his vocal chords singing along the various hundreds of people singing too.

Once all the electric shtick on stage was cleared up, the whole band jumped down from the stage, joining the crowd, singing and stomping.

Buddy you’re an old man poor man

Pleadin’ with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day

The violinist, which had seen Reggie look starstruck at them and later on give his all to the music, joined him to sing (and stomp).

They were almost dancing, doing a duet, smiling like children on Christmas morning, being completely soaked through with the rain, and looking at each other with a feeling I can only describe as electricity (and if they looked at each other more electricly, they would have electrocuted themselves along the way.)

You got mud on your face You big disgrace Somebody better put you back in your place

The violinist shot him a wink, he tried to not get flustered, and in return winked back.

We will we will rock you

One last verse to the song, everyone still as excited as they were at the beginning. And yet, this one was sung with intention, with motive, as if they were shouting at the world that they’d rock it to achieve their goal.

We will we will rock you

And that was it. After a couple of seconds, the crowd calmed down and scattered.

“Hey, what are your pronouns?” The violinist asked.

Reggie remembered both the dictionary meaning of pronoun and the context in which it was asked (which Alex so kindly explained to them earlier), “He/Him, I’m Reggie.” He smiled.

“You’re in that band, right? Sunset Curve?” They asked.

“Tell your friends!” I’m pretty sure you can imagine how exactly he said this quote. “I’m the bassist.” Ah yes, and now the important question, “What about you, pronouns and name, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” They thought for one second before blurting it out, “They/Them, the name’s Y/n.” Y/n stretched out a hand, he seized it and made a mental note to ask Alex about those pronouns after, “So, what brings you here today?”

“Oh, well, my best friend’s gay, but,” He leaned closer to their ear, “I’m like, 90% sure I’m bi.”

“Damn boy, same!” They laughed.

“Anyway, I gotta go now, the instruments are only safe from the rain, not from people,” Y/n scratched the back of their neck. “But, in case I’m not only bi and yearning,” They whipped out a marker from their pocket and scribbled their number on Reggie’s forearm, “give me a call. Maybe we can try to rock out again together.” Wow, so full of confidence, must be the adrenaline that implied losing their instrument over getting a cute bassist as a date.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Y/n was already walking away, smiling at him.” I’ll def give you a call!” There was no answer to that. Only a distant holler.

“Yo! Reggie!” Luke.

“Coming!”

And he did walk over, fishing from his backpack a piece of dry paper and a pen to write down the number on something a bit more permanent. Anyway, he found the guys.

“Remember when I told you I might be bisexual?” He asked, copying the number.

“Yeah, when we were watching Indiana Jones, why?” Alex remembered. Indiana Jones is hot, that’s so not up for discussion.

“Yeah, well” He ripped the page with the number out and stuffed it in his pocket. “now I know, I’m bi.”

“Yeah man, no shit.” Luke teased him. Joke’s on you bitch you’re too.

[moving-accounts-uwu]

Right Where You Were Meant To Be (Bucky x Plus-size!Reader)

Fandom: Marvel 

Characters: Bucky x Plus-size!reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, body-shaming

Story type: One-shot

Word count: 2.7k words 

Summary: Reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

(A/N: This is a cute little one-shot idea I had and just wanted to write out. I feel there aren’t many plus-size!reader stories so I wanted to make my own. I’m a chubby girl and felt like I needed some love, lmao. Any mistakes I take responsibility for, this story wasn’t beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!! Also, the gif isn’t mine, but he just looks so precious <3)

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It all started when you looked at him for the first time. He had just moved into the Tower, and you had just gotten the job as Tony's new assistant since Pepper had become CEO of Stark Industries. Because you worked in an environment with superheroes who were very fit and healthy, you had become self-conscious of yourself; whether it would be what you wore, the things you ate, or just how your body looked in general. 

Being a bigger girl, it often took a toll on your mental health when you would notice the glances, the whispering, the judgmental stares, and how shopping for clothes in your size was difficult, and it made you feel like you had to lose weight to fit in and belong. You felt alone and isolated. 

You didn't have any friends; you didn't even talk to many of your co-workers, and just kept to yourself a majority of the time. When Bucky moved in, you noticed he did the same. He didn't speak much to the rest of the team, he mostly stayed in his room, and only hung around Steve. Bucky was very fit, and his muscular body showed it whenever he wore tight-fitted clothing. You would never wear tight-fitted clothing for fear of having your plumpness accentuated.

After five months working for Tony and having a more friendly relationship with the rest of the team, you had built a few close bonds with some of the heroes. Wanda and Natasha were your closest girlfriends and would regularly have 'Lady's Nights' every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Tony, Clint, Sam, and Steve were like your older brothers and would look out for you. 

You and Steve made it a routine to do small exercise and yoga in the afternoons just after 4 o'clock. How this all started was because you wanted to accomplish small goals for yourself, as Sam told you to do to help with your mental health.

"Steve," You called out as you stepped into the Tower's gym, the one place you knew where to find Steve if he wasn't in the common room.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)! What's up?" Steve turned to face you as he held the punching bag still while he watched you walk closer to him, noticing you fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

"I just... I wanted to start doing light exercises, you know, to boost my endorphins, and so I have something to do in the afternoons when I've finished with work." It wasn't a complete lie, but it just sugar-coated the fact that you just wanted to lose weight to gain confidence in yourself.

Steve had agreed to help you; he wouldn't push you too much either because he didn't want you to strain anything and not push you out of your comfort zone too much. Both of you would exercise for an hour each day in the afternoons. This routine had been going on for six weeks, and you were enjoying it. You felt better about yourself each week when you would check your progress and write down how much you lost during the week; you were more confident than you were all those weeks ago before asking Steve for help.

During one of those afternoon exercises, you and Steve were both in the Adho Mukha pose with Steve wearing his usual tight t-shirt that you swore was a size too small, and shorts while you wore a loose, black tank top, and tight-fitted leggings that complemented the shape of your plump ass. You were so in the zone that you hadn't heard the gym doors open and the sound of footsteps coming closer to you. Bucky stood behind you and Steve, him getting an eyeful of your butt while he cleared his throat to catch his best friend's attention. 

"Hey, Bucky! I didn't notice you were there. (Y/N) and I were doing some yoga, would you like to join us?" 

You. Were. Mortified. You quickly stood up beside Steve and looked down at your feet, trying to avoid looking at Bucky after having your ass practically in his face. 

"Uh, I kinda have to get ready for 'Girl's Night' tonight, but I think Bucky can keep you company." You nervously spoke, having your words jumble out quickly due to your inner-embarrassment. "I'll see you later, Steve!"

You bolted out of the gym as fast as your legs could go and made it up into your room without another incident. When you flopped onto your bed, you let out a loud, exhausted sigh before closing your eyes shut tightly. 'Why did I have to act like a nervous wreck? You didn't even let him talk for Christ's sake!' After beating yourself up over the little incident, you started to get ready for 'Girl's Night' with Nat and Wanda. 

It was two hours into 'Girl's Night' and you, Nat and Wanda had, at least, drank four glasses of Kraken Rum and about three shots of Vodka. You were more relaxed and carefree, enjoying your time with your best friends while gossiping about an episode of Criminal Minds you all saw the other day together. 

"Not gonna lie, I would love to have a man like Morgan. Have you seen his muscles? And how he kicks down doors like a badass?" You gushed.

"That is true, and I fully believe Morgan and Garcia should be together. They have chemistry and look so cute!" Wanda loved her Morgan and Garcia ship. 

"Eh, I like to have a super cute genius but that's just my opinion" Nat took a sip of her fruity vodka drink while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course you would, you're with Bruce and that's a little bias, Nat." You gently shoved your red-haired friend playfully. 

You and Wanda giggled like school girls when Natasha scoffed before she pointed an accusing finger at you.

"Well, says you, (Y/N)! You practically drool whenever you see Barnes."

That shut you up quickly. 'How does she know?! Play it off'

"That's very funny Nat, but I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me, (Y/N). I've seen the way your cheeks get all pink and how your eyes are glued to him whenever he walks by. You're so smitten it's grossly cute." Then Wanda turned to you with a small smirk on her face.

"Maybe you should ask him to work out with you and Steve!"

Flashbacks of your embarrassment earlier that day made your face go pale. 'Absolutely not'. You shook your head furiously, staring at your two friends with fear. There was no way you'd have the guts to do such a thing, not after how you acted around him before. Plus, you didn't want him to look at you with disgust when he looks at you working out. You shake off all the negative thoughts before finishing off your last bits of rum.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Tony wants me to help him organize and plan a gala party to celebrate his newest project. And when I say to 'help him' I mean I'll be doing most of the work while he hides away in his lab with Bruce." You said before walking off and waving the girls goodbye.

2 weeks later...

You had most of the gala planned out. You had booked a cute catering company to organize some food dishes for everyone and even hired a group of people to decorate one of the large common rooms that would fit all the guests on Tony's guest-list. You had even bought a cute new dress to wear for the party. The party was starting that night at 7:30 and you would hopefully get everything done while having an hour and a half to spare to get ready. 

When the decorating and planning finished, you quickly made your way to your room and got showered and changed. You stood in front of your mirror for quite some time, nitpicking every flaw you could see, judging your appearance because you knew how the other women at the party were going to look flawless and have every man swooping in for them. A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your negative thoughts.

"(Y/n), you ready?" Wanda's voice called from the other side.

"Y-yeah! I'm coming now." You dashed for the door to get away from the mirror so you can't put yourself down even more. Once opening the door, Wanda linked your arm with hers, and both of you walked toward the elevator. 

Telling FRIDAY which floor, you both arrived just as a few of the guests were mingling around; drinking, eating, and chatting. You glanced around, hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends, spotting Sam, Nat, and Clint near the bar where Natasha was serving the drinks. Tony was standing next to Pepper and being an absolute flirt as always while Steve and Bucky were standing near a corner with drinks in hand. Before you could make your way over to the bar, Wanda told you to wait where you were while she goes to quickly touch up her make-up, disappearing before you could say a word. You stood there awkwardly and looked around, making sure everything was going swimmingly until you felt a presence behind you. A tap on your confirmed that someone was indeed behind you.

You turned around to see a group of two slender women and three muscular men staring at you with smug and cocky smiles on their faces.

"Can we get some more drinks? And make them with a little more alcohol this time." One of the men quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to scurry off to grab their drinks.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not part of catering. I'm-"

"You certainly look it though, I mean, you're not dressed like you're here as a guest. The dress you're wearing looks like the other catering staff." A woman spat, her eyes narrowed at you. You started to feel self-conscious about your outfit now, realizing the color-scheme looked very similar to the catering staff.

"Plus, the dress isn't that flattering for your body hun. We can practically see your muffin top and panty lines with how tight that dress is on you." The other woman commented while she leaned to the side to glance at more of your plush figure.

A stinging sensation began to appear behind your eyes, feelings of doubt, and an anxiety attack began to make themselves known. So looked away from the group and quickly made for the elevator, shooting Wanda a quick text saying you weren't feeling too well. 'How stupid of me to think I even looked good or that I could fit in at the party.' By the time the elevator doors reached your floor and the doors opened, hot tears were falling down your cheeks as you tried to furiously wipe them away with zero results. The tears kept flowing down as you began to walk down the hallway to your room; quiet footsteps barely making noise as they followed you. Just as your hand settled on the door handle, a warm hand clasped onto your shoulder gently. With a yelp, you spun around with a jump to look at your "attacker", only to find a pair of stormy blue eyes staring at your teary eyes intensely. 

Bucky's eyes held hints of concern and worry, but it was hard to see because he was good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that your eyes were blurry from crying.

"You okay, (Y/n)? I saw you leave the party quickly and noticed how fast your breathing was." Bucky had to look down at you because he was so tall, or was it because you were just very short?

"I'm fine, Bucky. I just don't do well in crowded places or with so many strangers. I got a bit overwhelmed but it's fine now." You weakly smiled but he could see right through it, he always did.

"You had a panic attack after speaking to a group of people, and judging by the looks they gave you while talking to them, I can only believe it wasn't a pleasant conversation." Bucky then brought both his flesh and metal hands to cup your face while he peered into your eyes more. "Tell me what happened, doll." 

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to let this go. Even though you both barely spoke to each other, he still cared for you like the both of you knew each other for years. Something about his calm voice and caring nature helped your nerves settle.

"They thought I was part of catering and asked if I could get them more drinks. I told them I wasn't catering, only for them to make snarky comments about my outfit and body. But it's fine, I'm used to having those comments made to me, I've dealt with those types of people all my life." Your hands gently held his and tried to move them away from your face but Bucky didn't budge. 

"You don't believe them, right? I mean, I think the dress looks good on you. It shows off your curves and any man who doesn't get blown away is blind."

You gave a humorless laugh and shook your head at Bucky, looking down at the floor.

"You're just saying that to be nice to me, Buck. We both know girls like me don't belong in a place like this, or a party like that. You can go back to the party, I don't want to waste more of your time." You went to turn away when Bucky held your upper arms tightly.

"Not a chance, doll. I'm not a fan of crowds myself and was about to leave the party myself until I saw you run away. I'd rather spend my time with you and making sure you don't ever think that you don't belong."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, his stare was intense with adoration and love while you stared at him in shock that he'd want to spend time with you. Before you could blink, Bucky leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you and caging you into a warm and gentle embrace. Your hands rested onto his firm chest while his hands rested on your lower back, just above your butt. At first, you were in shock but then you gave in to the kiss and snaked your arms around his neck, your fingers embedded into his long hair. 

The kiss was full of passion, and so much love that you didn't think it was possible. When the need for air was too much, you both separated and looked into each other's eyes once again.

"H-how? Why me? We barely know each other!"

"Because, (Y/n), I've been smitten for you since I first laid eyes on you but didn't have the guts to tell you. Steve's been a punk and trying to get me to join your work out sessions for weeks but I was too nervous to do it." Bucky's cheeks tinted red as he chuckled.

"And why's that? I was scared that if saw me working out, that you'd be grossed out by my body." You explained, chewing on your bottom lip.

"I could never be grossed out, sweetheart. I love a woman with curves and plumpness to her. I was nervous that if I watched you work out, I would try to make a move on you too fast and scare you away. I didn't want that to happen." Bucky grabbed your chin and leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours. "And you looked downright sexy in those tights, they shape your ass well."

You gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder while he smirked at you. His playfulness coming through. You made the first move this time and got onto your tippy toes to kiss him. This is was quicker than the first but still held the same emotions. With so much strength you underestimated he had, Bucky lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he opened your door and carried you over to your bedroom. Both of you watched a bunch of movies in your room; many kisses were shared before you both passed out, cuddled up under your fluffy blankets, safe in Bucky's arms. Right where you were meant to be all along.

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Thanks for reading!!! <3 <3 <3

[aladdinthefortuneteller]

Superset Workout Routine For Cutting

This program I’m about to represent is the pinnacle of a superset workout routine for cutting. I will provide the exact rest times between sets, reps, and exercises.

So, you won’t have any question marks after you finish reading this article. This ultimate superset workout routine is designed to get you shredded in no time! Follow the instructions I am providing and thank me later.

Why Supersets?

First and foremost, supersets will save you time in the gym, so you won’t have to wobble around for hours.

The second benefit is the main reason we are implementing supersets.

To burn more calories! Imagine you are doing bench press for 4 sets and resting 2 mins in between each set. Then, you start training your back and do a lat pulldown for 4 sets and rest 3 mins between sets.

Therefore, your total rest time increases substantially. Also, after each set, your heart rate drops you burn don’t as many calories.

However, say you are doing supersets. You finish your bench press and perform lat pulldown without any rest.

So, your heart rate stays high during the workout and you finish the whole session quicker than usual.

At the end of the day, you will burn more calories because your heart rate stays higher than regular sets and you sweat like crazy (one of the ways a human body evicts fats).

Superset Workout Routine For Cutting 101

In this routine, you must follow everything to the T unless you have a major injury. Even if you are a beginner, you can execute this plan.

The only difference would be the weights you use. So don’t worry! Be brave, and let’s smash this routine. It is time to get shredded.

Also, please don’t change exercises! They are strategically selected and placed to achieve optimal balance.

Split Structure of the Workout Program

We will use a 3-day split, and you will workout 5 to 6 times a week. The reason for that is to stimulate every muscle group at least twice a week.

Therefore, you will achieve optimal protein synthesis.

However, your arms and delts will be stimulated 3 to 4 times a week inevitably due to indirect training.

Since triceps, biceps, and deltoids are small muscles, it won’t be a problem. In fact, that will help you to bring up your arms and shoulders.

The superset workout plan will follow a CHEST/BACK, LEGS, SHOULDER/ARMS structure.

I strongly suggest to take a rest day once you complete 3 days back to back.

If you feel wrecked after a month, you can take 2 days off. However, remember, you are cutting.

In a caloric deficit, it is normal to feel sore and less energetic than usual. Try to fight the sorenesses and lack of energy. You have an end goal!

Rest Time Between Sets & Exercises

Since this workout is built on supersets, when I mention a “set” it means two exercises performed back to back.

For example, you performed 6 repetitions of bench press and with NO REST at all, start doing 6 reps of lat pulldowns. This is considered 1 set in this program.

The rest times between supersets means when you finish 1st superset and move on to the 2nd superset to perform different exercises back to back.

The optimal rest time between sets is researched and found to be 60 to 120 seconds. However, since we are performing supersets, we can rest between 120 seconds to 150 seconds (2 mins to 2.30 mins).

When you finish 1st superset and move on to perform the 2nd one, or finish the 3rd one and jump on to the 4th one you can rest 180 seconds (3 minutes).

The Holy Superset Workout Routine For Cutting

MONDAY: CHEST/BACK

1st Superset: Bench press 4 sets x6 reps Lat pulldown 4 sets x 6 reps

2nd Superset: Incline dumbbell superset: 4 sets x 10 reps Bendover dumbbell row: 4 sets x 10 reps

3rd Superset: Dumbbell fly: 4 sets x 12 reps Cable row: 4 sets x12 reps

4th Superset: Weighted crunch: 3 sets x15 reps Leg raise: 3 sets x 20 reps

TUESDAY: LEGS

1st Superset: Front squat: 4 sets x 6 reps Dumbell Deadlift: 4 sets x 12 reps

2nd Superset: Leg Curl: 4 sets x 12 reps Leg Extenstion: 4 sets x 12 reps

3rd Superset: Barbbell Lunges: 4 sets x 10 reps Calf raises: 4 sets x 20 reps

WEDNESDAY: SHOULDER/ ARMS

1st Superset: Dumbbell shoulder press: 4 sets x 6 reps Lateral raise: 4 sets x 12 reps

2nd Superset: Arnould Press: 3 sets x 10 reps Reverse Fly: 3 sets x 15 reps

3rd Superset: Barbbell curl: 4 sets x 8 reps Skull crushers: 4 sets x 8 reps

4th Superset: Hammer curl: 4 sets x 12 reps Triceps extention: 4 sets x 12 reps

5th Superset: Russian twist: 3 sets x 15 reps Turkish get-ups: 3 sets x 15 reps

Thursday: Off

FRIDAY: CHEST/BACK

SATURDAY: LEGS

SUNDAY: SHOULDER/ ARMS

MONDAY: OFF

REPEAT.

Have you noticed one thing? The days rotate every week. So you won’t have a specific chest/back day in a week. Thus, there will be no international chest day for you.

Hahah. But seriously, this is more fun than traditional 5 day bodybuilding split.

Off Days?

Where is the rest muscle and how do I train it?

Jokes aside, the rest days are crucial. Your muscles need to recover to prevent muscle loss during the caloric deficit. (I am assuming you are eating less to lose weight)

But, that doesn’t mean you can’t do cardio on rest days. Cardio is an amazing active recovery tool.

You can swim, jog, walk, cycle, play basketball, play tennis or hike.

Those activities will only enhance your fat loss. Indeed, you can deploy cardio sessions right after every workout.

My recommendation is 30 minutes incline treadmill walks. The optimal time to avail the elevated heart rate and burn extra calories.

https://menshealthprotein.com/superset-workout-routine-for-cutting/

[ardentmuse]

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 5

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: In the aftermath of their failed meet-up, MC builds the confidence to do a few things she’s always needed to do and George finds the courage to follow his heart.

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Not how I expected to spend this morning, so I hope you all enjoy this surprising update.

As you hung the last of the signs advertising your last big hurrah, a bookfest filled with live readings, stage performances, children’s theater, and sales galore, Patricia finished sending the last of the owls to the authors you wished to be featured.

You slumped down on your respective chairs in the middle of the store. But you only got settled when you heard the chime of the doorbell.

“Where’s my sweet girl?” Tom called from the door. It was hard to see his head over the giant pile of boxes and bags from the various local sellers. With two great strides, he dropped the bags unceremoniously upon your counter before turning and offering you both a giant, cheeky grin.

But his face fell the minute he saw the decorations and posters you had placed around the store advertising your big event this weekend.

“What’s all this?”

“Our last push to try and save the shop,” you said as you stood to offer him a hug, and to ask a few questions.

He huffed, “Don’t bother.” And before you could process the shock of those words, your face contorting into a horrible scowl, he barrelled forward with his own monologue. “Bill Weasley was promoted this week, something regarding ministry relations--”

“Don’t say the name Weasley in my shop, Thomas,” you mumbled under your breath. But Tom was a bulldozer, completely ignoring your obvious cues of discomfort.

“-- but it doesn’t matter. With his promotion comes my promotion! Gringotts has decided to transfer all of his territories to me. We leave for Egypt Saturday!”

Your mouth fell open in shock.

“Isn’t that great, babe?” Tom asked, clearly dissatisfied with your response, though it seemed he would have been dissatisfied with anything that wasn’t you flinging your arms around his neck, kissing him profusely, and deeming him your savior.

After a few seconds of you still not saying anything, the only sound the movement of Patty to excuse herself from the clearly tense situation, Tom pressed forward. He reached a hand into one of the bags, pulling out a lovely powder blue silk scarf, woven with silver string in the shape of stars.

“For the sand. Don’t you like it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to process the level of anger you are feeling. Tom just assumed you would drop your life to pursue his dreams, didn’t even once stop to ask you first. You always knew Tom was ambitious and loved your desire to adventure, but you were older now, more boring maybe. You wanted stability, to dig deep and make roots. After years of living light, your heart called so strongly to be heavy. And you had hoped Tom’s heart called for that too…

“Tom, I’m not going to Egypt with you.”

“Oh, Merlin, babe, I’m--” he stopped his cheerful ramble when he realized what you had actually said. He dropped the cloth upon the counter. “Are you serious?”

You sighed, “I have a shop to run.”

“That will be closed in a week!” Tom protested. “I know you are worried about money, but don’t be, Y/N. I’ve got us covered. You don’t need to do anything but let me take care of us.”

“This isn’t about money, Tom!” you found yourself screaming, “This is about having something that’s mine. I don’t want to just follow you around my whole life. I’m my own person. I have my own goals.”

Tom grabbed your shoulders in his large hands, trying to stabilize you. It was a gesture that would normally feel supportive but today only made you feel suffocated.

“I know, I know, and I want you to. You can write a book or do charity work or focus on starting our family. Come on, sweetie. Be realistic. I love your drive, but does it have to be here in this crudy shop over some old books?”

You found yourself being lulled by the sweet timbre of his voice - maybe travelling the world again and writing a book beside him wouldn’t be a bad thing - until he said that one word.

“Crudy?”

You pulled away harshly.

“We both know this was just a pipe dream. Very few businesses make it on Diagon Alley. Most of the shops have been here hundreds of years. Well, except the Weasleys.”

“DON’T SAY THE NAME WEASLEY IN MY SHOP, THOMAS!” you screamed this time, causing your boyfriend to throw up his hands in mock terror.

Realizing how much things had escalated, you both pause and breathe. You take a seat down upon your chair, processing what Tom just told you. He never supported you or your dream. You loved him, yes, and he loved you, too. But it seems you may have loved shadows of yourselves. Tom loved the you of three years ago, the one who found more happiness upon his arm than on her own two feet. And you loved a Tom who helped you find home after years of running, the one who taught you what connection was, even if he wanted that connection to only be with himself alone.

“I don’t love you,” you breathed out loud, only now realizing the freeing weight of saying the words out loud.  “I mean, I love you the way I love any friend but I don’t love you.”

You looked up from your hands to take in Tom’s face, blank and cold and only slightly confused.

“You don’t love me?”

Your eyes scanned his square jaw that you used to love running your fingers across, the lips that used to draw yours forward in lust or longing, the curls you used to pull in passion or pat in comfort, and the eyes that bore into you now in question, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long you had hoped he might be someone else. Had it been always? Had you been so blind to not see that what you loved was having someone, not this someone in particular?

“No,” you whispered with a slight shake of your head.

Thomas let out a deep breath before staring at the ceiling of your shop. His back pressed hard against the counter as he let his grip grow tighter. After a moment, his gaze turned to you once more. But you didn’t see the pain there that you had imagined. Just a stray tear and something akin to relief.

“I don’t love you either,” he admitted. “I hoped I might someday, but–” he cut himself off with another huff before taking a step towards you. “You are my best friend. You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re beautiful. We were perfect for each other.”

Tom flung himself down into the chair beside you. His hand inched towards your own and for once you didn’t feel the desire to pull away.

“Where’d we go wrong?”

You laughed, gripping the fingers of your best friend tightly for the first time in a long time -- not that you hadn’t held hands recently. Sometimes it felt like you were attached at the hands because that was what couples do. But it had been a very long time you only now realized that you could call Tom your best friend.

“Maybe in thinking friendship wasn’t enough for us? Not everything nice on paper makes sense in practice.”

Tom smiled at you genuinely before kissing your knuckles.

“You’ve always been wiser than me,” he said while returning your hand to you. “I think in the back of my head I always knew but–”

“This was easy?” you asked. He simply nodded in confirmation.

Tom stood and walked towards the counter. He collected the bags he brought in but upon picking up the blue scarf, he placed it back on the counter again with a pat.

“You deserve better than easy, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

You smiled at him, the full weight of the situation hitting you finally like a freight train. Was it possible to feel relief so acute and sadness so intense that they cancel each other out like two trains hitting head-on until each was halved and mangled, much smaller and much more dangerous?

You felt the tears begin to hit your eyes now but not at the loss of Tom but at the loss of all the stability you had spent years creating – your store, your relationship, your community, and your Rhubarb.

Tom tapped the scarf once more. “In case a vacation to Egypt seems like your next adventure. I promise you’ll have a couch to crash on, friend.” The last word sounded strange on his tongue, like a test more than sentiment. You found you could get used to it.

“I’ll take you up on that, once–”

“I know,” he said as a tear fell down his cheek. He moved forward and leaned it to kiss you like he always did when he left the shop, though this time he paused and redirected, his lips finding your forehead with precision. He held himself to you long and lasting, his tears salting your head.

You couldn’t even look at him as he walked towards the door. You heard the chime and felt your heart clench as your world fell apart in earnest. You let yourself cry now for real, letting the waves of sorrow rake your body.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask,” Tom started from the door.

You popped your head up and rubbed your eyes, damning that this would be the last he’d see of you before you reunited as friends, a gross snotty mess unable to compose herself.

“Is there someone else?” he asked, almost embarrassed at himself for asking the question, realizing he had no right now to care.

But you smiled despite yourself.

“I hope, someday.”

Tom nodded, the smile on his lips, too. “Me too.”

And with that he walked out of your shop and your life for the foreseeable future, one more part of the pristine life you had built for yourself disappearing down the lane. But unlike everything else, this one felt right and good, like you were regaining part of your strength. There was hope now for that passionate love you had told Rhubarb your heart desired, even if you had no prospects at the moment. Rhubarb, Tom, and the insufferable George Weasley you angered yourself at realizing, had given you a gift in showing you not to content yourself with just okay ever again.

George sat at the desk of his childhood home, nursing slowly the tea his mother had given him staring at a blank parchment. He was in love he now realized. And the right thing to do would be to let his love move on with her life. He had caused enough harm already.

With a huff, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the bin.

“Leave her be, you git,” he said to himself, “You destroyed her business, you led her on and stood her up. You hurt her and she deserves so much better than you.”

“Better than George Fabian Weasley?” Fred said from the door, “There is no such thing. Well, other than his more dashing twin.”

Fred threw himself down on his own childhood bed. The mattress was the same but the linens were now pink and the duvet a brilliant mint green with silver sparkles, prepared for Victoire’s monthly sleepovers.  

It clashed with Fred’s hair greatly.

“So what are we going to do about this?”

George turned in his chair to see Fred reclining on his side, his head propped on his arm and a hickie prominent upon his neck. George felt the anger grow in him just a little at how easily Fred could find a woman to warm his bed– not that George wanted a bed warmer. He wanted a heart warmer, a life warmer. He wanted you, not that he had any right to.

“There’s nothing to do. We’ve done enough.”

Fred tisked loudly.

“Nothing is set in stone, Georgiepoo.” And with a flourish, he pulled a flyer out of his pocket and tossed it to his twin.

The flyer laid out upon the desk, pristine and thick just like the parchments you always send his way.

“Story Extravaganza?” George read out loud. “What is this?”

Fred just smiles, relaxing further into his bed. “It’s your girl fighting back.”

George smiles at Fred’s phrasing. He inspects the flyer carefully, impressed by how well you seem to know your customers to provide him so many things they might enjoy.

“And,” Fred begins, his voice growing more sly, “She may be fighting for you, too.”

Fred lays another piece of parchment on the desk next to Fred, one in your own script with the same flourish he’d grown so accustomed to seeing on the parchment.

Rhubarb,

I waited for you last night and you didn’t show up. I felt so foolish. I wish I understood what held you back, but I may never know.

Even if you wish to cut ties with me, I wanted to let you know that these talks of ours have given me the courage to do something I wasn’t sure I ever would be able to do. I spoke my mind to someone last night, someone who probably didn’t even care to hear what I have to say. This big shot business guy came by while I was waiting for you. I was probably not as nice as I could have been but I was direct with what I thought. I didn’t shrivel away out of fear of how I might be perceived. I fought for what I feel I deserve. It may not have been my proudest moment mouthing off to my enemy but it meant the world to me to know that you had part in building in me that kind of strength.

Thank you.

With Fred at his back, George tried to put pen to paper once more, this time knowing what he actually needed to say.

You were busy in your office intercepting a ton of notes from various local authors, almost all of whom were excited to make an appearance at the store either to promote new work or engage with readers. A few were even bringing excerpts of unpublished manuscripts to read and one of your favorite children’s authors was bringing along a band to perform some songs for the kids.

Everything was falling into place for a big celebration. Even if you didn’t make enough money to keep the store open — hell, you weren’t even sure your landlord would consider leasing to someone other than the Weasley’s at this point — it would be a great last hurrah. This was why you started the shop in the first place— to give the community a place to celebrate stories, creativity, and imagination. At the end of the day, it was always about community.

So when a certain snowy owl dropped a letter upon the incoming stack and greeted Diomedes with soft nips of her neck feathers, you didn’t notice. It wasn’t until you had sliced through the seal and saw the handwriting that the air left your chest.

My dear Cherry,

There’s no excuse for letting you sit there alone yesterday. I can’t explain where I was but I pray you will forgive me for leaving you.

I am proud of you and I can guarantee whatever you said did not fall on deaf ears. The break from your kind spirit could not have gone unnoticed. Whatever transgression he caused you surely deserved the words you tossed his way and I am sure you looked beautiful doing it.

I regret that you found yourself in that situation, though. You were expecting a friend and found an enemy instead. I am sorry for causing you that pain.

I’ll explain some day. I promise. But in the meantime, I am still here. I am still listening. Talk to me, sweetheart.

Rhubarb

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills​, @hazelandcoconuts​, @yallgotkik​, @amberkay284​, @13ofjuly​, @daft-not-punk​, @sapphireorchid​, @geek-lass​, @ietss​, @garbdump​, 

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet​, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx, @madamcadaver, @bookscoffeeandracoons

[myoldnewhouse]

I moved in!!!

Saturday morning my friends all descended on my apartment and loaded, moved, and unloaded my furniture in record time (and in the rain) and then we put handprints on the wall of my entry way and all hung out in my living room drinking a couple beers. Then I cleaned up the apartment, got the internet running, and camped out in the living room watching movies with the dog. 

Yesterday’s goal was to make sure I can sleep, shower, and work. Today I’m working from the same built in desk in the master bedroom where I used to play games on a Commodore64. It’s temporary, because working in the bedroom is dumb, but my office isn’t set up yet because I used a friend’s tools to take my desk apart and then gave them back to him before putting it together, so I have an Allen wrench set on the way from Amazon. It should get here just about the same time I find the box with the screws in it. But aside from work the goal is to get the pile of boxes in the dining room moved into the rooms they’re going to belong in, even if I don’t put a single thing away. That’ll let me get the dining room rug out of the middle of the kitchen and get the dog kennel and cat tree placed.

Tomorrow’s ambitious goal is making the kitchen usable. It still needs to be painted so I may not unpack quite everything, but painting I’ll do a few other rooms first so I’ll unpack quite a bit. At least I’ll get the cabinets washed out, get new contact paper down (what’s in there is still what my mom bought in 1984...) and get those filled up.

Wednesday I’ll focus on the master bathroom and closet unpacked enough that I know where things are. Thursday, unless my dad is working on the living room floor, I’ll work on unpacking that since it’s pretty much the only room that doesn’t need painting. My dad is nearly done with the floor so if I get that unpacked it’ll be all done aside from the TV mount (there’s a plan for that, but not a schedule just yet). 

After that, I’ll probably pick a room and paint it and then unpack it and then move on from there. It all sounds so easy when you list it out like this...

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (31/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [AO3]

Summary: Resembool’s resident alchemists hold an inaugural meeting. 

Characters: Hohenheim, Roy, Alex Armstrong, Marcoh, Sherman (OC)

==

Ab’s honestly a bit surprised that it took them this long to all get together in one place. Well, that’s not strictly true. She, Tim, Alex and Roy have all been in the same place for quite a while, all of them ending up living together as a stopgap that they never really left. 

But this is the first time that the four of them have all met up with Hohenheim and decided to pool their resources. 

Over the time that they have been in Resembool, they have slowly been accepted into the village’s confidence and have learned about Hohenheim’s immortality and the circumstances that led to it. They’ve learned about what’s going on in the wider world of Amestris, a plan that’s been four hundred years in the making that Hohenheim and the rest of Resembool have spent the past few years trying to work against. 

It had made Ab’s stomach turn when she had found out exactly what the war in Ishval was for, just another point of bloodshed on a larger map that’s been built up over so long. Even though she knows that there was nothing that any of them could have done to prevent it, that the powers that be are being manipulated by something far greater with practically limitless power and alchemic ability, it still makes her feel slightly sick. It makes her even more glad that the four of them managed to get out whilst they could. Tim is the one to take the news the hardest. He’s seen first hand the damage that Philosophers’ Stones can do in the wrong hands. He knows how they’re made; he’s performed the human sacrifice that goes into them. Knowing that they’re all at the potential heart of one is a sobering thought. Ab wants to warn the entire population but a mass exodus to Xing would be a bit too obvious. 

Having been part of that bloodshed and carved the blood crest into the earth to create the point on the circle that encapsulates the country, Ab wants nothing more than to try and work against it now. When Alex had made the suggestion that the four of them join forces with Hohenheim as five heads are better than one, she had jumped at the notion. 

Hohenheim was more reluctant. It’s a fight he’s been having alone for so long that accepting help with it does not come naturally. Not when the stakes involved are so high. But Hohenheim was the first person to really accept and befriend Ab when she first arrived, and she will repay that if she can. The entire Elric family has been so good to all of them, and it’s clear to Ab that it’s going to take more than one alchemist to do what they’re attempting to do, no matter how skilled Hohenheim is. 

(She doesn’t want to think about how much knowledge he’s picked up over the centuries, the scope of it is mind-blowing and her brain can’t wrap itself around it.)

“Well,” Tim says, as they’re all sitting around the kitchen table with tea and Trisha’s carrot cake. “I have to say that this is definitely the strangest club I’ve ever been part of.”

“We need a name.” Roy gives a snort of laughter. “Alchemists Anonymous.”

“Roy…” Ab just shakes her head, but says nothing more. They need whatever humour they can get after everything that they’ve seen and everything that they’ve just been brought up to speed on. 

“So… What’s the plan?” Alex asks. “Other than somehow finding a way to defeat Hohenheim’s strange evil twin?”

“Can we please not call him my evil twin?” Hohenheim sounds pained.

“I don’t think that there is much more to the plan than that,” Tim points out. “If we can do that, hopefully everything will be put to rights.”

It won’t, not really. Ab doesn’t think that anything will ever truly be put to rights considering that the very foundation of the country is built on a lie, puppeted by someone else pulling the strings right from the off, planning another Xerxes on a huge scale from the moment the original fell. But if they can get rid of the homunculus with no further bloodshed, then at least they have more of a chance of starting to right the wrongs of the past. 

“For the last few years my research has primarily been focussed on preventing what happened in Xerxes from happening again,” Hohenheim begins. “Finding some method whereby I can stop the souls being taken in the first place, or, if it comes down to it, release them back to their bodies if the worst comes to the worst and they are taken. The problem is that everything comes down to a single point of failure.”

“You’ve got us now,” Alex says. “That’s four more points of failure.”

Hohenheim shakes his head. “It won’t be enough. If we’re all inside the circle when the time comes - and I find it hard to imagine that we won’t be - then we’ll be affected just the same as everyone else in the country unless we can pinpoint dead centre and make sure we’re there in order to activate whatever it is we need to activate. It’s got to be something that can work independently of me; of all of us.”

The group falls into silence. They’re into areas of alchemy that none of them have any kind of expertise in. Ab held her state licence for over twenty years and she never had any fear that her research wouldn’t be up to snuff whenever she presented for her annual review, the same goes for Tim, but even with two decades of involvement in the alchemical field, she’s never dealt with anything as theoretical as what they’re working with now. 

“I’ve got it.” 

Hohenheim rushes out of the room, leaving the other four looking at each other with confusion but a little bit of hope. He returns with a long scroll of paper that he unfurls over the table and begins to scour.

Tim leans in to take a look. “Erm, Hohenheim, I’m sure it’s great, but it’s in Xingese.”

“It’s a solar-lunar calendar.” Roy, half-Xingese and with a working knowledge if not fluency, suddenly sounds excited. “What are you looking for?”

“Total solar eclipses covering Amestris.” Hohenheim continues to scan the tightly packed text with Roy’s help. “The Xerxian Promised Day took place during an eclipse. I’m sure the Amestrian one will too.”

Ab, Tim and Alex all look at each other, helpless to assist.

It takes close to an hour of Roy and Hohenheim comparing solar and lunar positions and eliminating moon phases, but they find out when the next eclipse will be - a total solar eclipse that will envelop all of Amestris in its umbra.

An umbra creating a perfect circle that will move into place of its own accord, without any of them needing to draw it or put their hands to it in order to activate it. 

Just like that, they have an end point, and they have a definitive goal that they can work towards, together.

Despite the somewhat poor taste, the name ‘Alchemists Anonymous’ sticks.

[petri808]

Happy Halloween!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

*Bonus Halloween chapter* it’s longer than normal (2k)

The biggest party in Tokyo was for a western holiday called Halloween, and the streets surrounding the heart of Shibuya that Saturday were literally crawling with a million young adults in every kind of costume you could imagine! Most of the revelers had no idea as to the origins of this holiday. All they cared about was dressing up and having a good time, including Lucy and her friends who’d dressed up as their favorite manga characters from Eden’s Zero. The businesses lining the streets in the area were used to the onslaught and welcomed it because it meant a nice chunk of revenue, while authorities did their best to control the crowds.

The group started off with Lucy, Levy, Erza, Gajeel, and Gray, but over time as others showed up or they ran into more friends, the groups numbers ebbed and flowed. Gray was the first to take off to meet his girlfriend Juvia, and once Natsu was off of work and joined them, Lucy and he split off to cruise by themselves for a while.

“Wow it’s so eerie how much you guys look like Shiki and Rebecca!”

“Thanks Mira,” Lucy blushes.

“Tch, I may look like the guy, but I’m not as dopey as him,” Natsu retorts. “He’s taking too damn long to make it official with Rebecca.”

“Don’t mind him,” Lucy giggles, “Natsu ships Shicca hard. But it’s even funnier to watch him and Gray argue over Weiszmura.”

“That’s because Gray is a blind bat who won’t admit they match!”

“Okay,” Mira laughs, “put the canons away. Are you two gonna check out the BUMP party at Womb nightclub?”

“Maybe a little later.” Lucy answers for them. “I heard they had some decent bands this year, but I’d rather go somewhere a little smaller like Sonidos.”

“Oh, yeah? Lisanna’s boyfriend Bixlow is the DJ there tonight.”

Lucy looks to Natsu, “we definitely should stop by and say hi.”

“Agreed.”

“Well it was nice bumping into you. I need to meet up with Laxus so you two have fun! I’ll catch you later!” Mira waves as she rejoins the flood of passerby’s.

Natsu takes Lucy’s hand and the couple continued walking around with no real destination. They stop in open stores to browse or grab yummy-looking finger foods from street vendors along the way. Despite the chaos around them, this was turning into a nice reprieve from their daily lives. It was already 1 am, but from the amount of activity going on, it was easy to lose track of time.

“Look, look,” Lucy points while dragging Natsu with her. “Photo booth!”

“Aww, really?” He whines, though the smile never wavered on his face.

“Yup!” She pulls him in and fishes out a bill from her wallet for the machine.

“Chi-zu!”

The pair chuckle and pose for the five shutter clicks. Each pose varying until the last one ending with a kiss from Natsu and genuinely surprised expression on Lucy’s face. It wasn’t their first kiss, but this would be a memorable one. For a few seconds as the machine printed out the slip of photos, Natsu holds her gaze, sweeping his thumb gently along her flushed cheek. There was a sense of intimacy in these confined booths where many a couple had hidden away from the public for this very kind of very moment.

“Thank you,” he smiles, eyes soft and pure of appreciation.

“For what?” Genuinely unsure of the reason.

“Giving me a second chance. These past few months have been the happiest times of my life and it’s all thanks to meeting you on that train.”

“I’m really glad too,” Lucy smiles sweetly. “Really... really glad,” she breathes out as she moves in to kiss him again.

“Excuse me?” A loud knocking sound stops them. “There’s other people waiting to use the machine!”

“Whoops. To be continued,” she gives Natsu just a quick peck and the pair get out of the booth. They apologize to the next group in line and race off hand in hand, laughing. That had been exhilarating!

Lucy’s heart was still racing even though they were long gone from the photo booth. She and Natsu had been taking things extra slow because of her earlier concerns. Aside from dates and a few kisses here and there, they’d never gone much further and she wondered who was the one holding back. Was it really her or was it actually him because he was too nervous to lose her? Tonight... in that booth... if they weren’t in public... her body flushes wildly just from the thought of it. Okay, so maybe she’s been dying to take their relationship further. Maybe not sex— yet, soon, or maybe... ‘argh! Not now!’ Lucy scolds her libido. But a make out session was a very tempting idea!

They check out Lisanna and Bixlow for a short time at Sonidos, before briefly hooking back up with Levy and Gajeel for some crepes. That’s when Levy quietly informs Lucy that she’ll be crashing at her boyfriend’s house instead of going back to the dorm. “You know... for some privacy,” the girl winks at Lucy. “Hint. Hint!”

“I-It’s too soon for that! W-with us,” her tips burn with lies through each syllable.

“Pfft, you can’t lie that you’ve never thought about it.”

“No... not all the way...”

“Uh-huh. Well, do whatever,” she winks a second time and stands up to leave. “See ya in tomorrow night.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

“Why are your ears all red?” Natsu asks Lucy.

Lucy stiffens up. “N-Nothing important.”

“Oh... okay,” he smiles. “So whatdya wanna do next?”

“Actually, I’m kinda getting tired already.” It was after 3 am and they’d been out and on their feet for over seven hours.

Natsu sighs relief. “Me too! I just didn’t wanna ruin your fun. Shall I take you home?” He squeezes her hand with a smile.

“Yes,” she returns the squeeze, “and if you’d like you can spend the night— I-I mean since you’re tired and all! I’d just feel better than making you back track.”

“I’ll behave, I promise.”

The couple ride the train the short distance between Shibuya and Shinjuku to where Lucy’s dorm is located, cautious of the other riders on the train. Even though alcohol is not allowed on the streets during Halloween, it didn’t stop people from getting drunk and few creepy peepers kept looking at Lucy. But luckily, the train wasn’t very packed despite the holiday because the Shibuya party wasn’t over till 4am and they beat the end rush. On the way, Natsu texts his roommate out of courtesy, only to find out that Gray and Juvia were already at the apartment. Figures. Well it was a good thing he wasn’t walking into that situation! Even if nothing happened, just watching Juvia fawning all over Gray wouldn’t have been appealing. Once they arrive at the dorms, they make sure no one had followed and proceed inside.

Lucy leaves Natsu in the small living room as she changes out of her costume and into something a lot more comfortable. He was lucky the men’s costume was still semi-normal and he only had to remove the jacket and goggles for comfort, but the black hair dye will wash out in a week. She then grabs them a couple bottles of melon milk tea before joining him on the couch. Thank goodness, they didn’t have school, or he didn’t work the next day.

“That was fun,” Lucy curls against his arm with a yawn. “So, tiring though.”

“I haven’t been to Shibuya’s party in a couple of years, but it sure hasn’t changed,” Natsu chuckles. He leans his head against hers while threading their fingers together. “Totally agree on being tired. It probably wouldn’t be as bad if I hadn’t worked too.”

A companionable silence falls over the couple for a few minutes and after some time Natsu assumed Lucy had fallen asleep resting on his shoulder. He would have stayed in that position till his ass was numb if it kept her relaxed. This beauty queen deserved it and more, and he meant every word he’d told her earlier. The second chance had become a cosmic wish come true and he’d be damned to let anything ruin this between them.

“Hey Natsu?”

“Yeah Luce?”

“Do you think we could pick up from where we left off... in that photo booth?”

He swallows hard. It was one thing in the heat of the moment, but quite another to put aside his nerves now that they were so relaxed. This was a different kind of intimacy and much more intimidating to say the least. A private apartment without anything or anyone to interrupt or stop two consenting adults from going too far... and the last thing he wanted to do was something wrong! A regretted decision would destroy everything built up until that moment. But he couldn’t tell her no either!

Sensing the turmoil, Lucy sits up and turns his face towards her. Her instincts were probably on point earlier about his anxiety. “We don’t have to, if you’re not ready, but I wouldn’t mind making out with you... just a little.” She adds in the goal as a way to allay his fears. And it works. Lucy immediately feels his shoulders relax again. She gently caresses his cheek, her eyes zeroing in on his lips. “I just… like kissing you Natsu.”

“I’ll let you direct then, a-and if I start going too far, just stop me. I won’t get mad, I just...”

“Shh, I know,” she smiles, “and that what I like about you.”

Lucy closes the gap and steals his lips, starting slow, then adding pressure behind it. Her hand slides behind his head, fingers weaving into his messy hair as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Their tongues tease and test, mouths molding together as teeth clack gently the further, they push each other’s oral boundaries. She could still taste some of the sweetness of the crapes lingering.

His own hands stay glued, one with fingers twined in her hair and the other to Lucy’s side, just below the rib cage. Natsu loses himself in her kisses, they were so soft and sweet, a little adventurous as she ran her tongue once over his canines and giggled. That brought a grin to his lips and a straight arrow through his heart. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet, but he loved Lucy. His heart knew it and that’s all that matters, so when the time is right, he’ll tell her, but not yet, he knew she wasn’t ready for that level.

Natsu’s so lost in the kisses he barely registers additional heat against his chest as Lucy’s hand has found its way under his shirt. It wasn’t doing more than simply resting against his pectorals, but it was much further than he’d expected her to venture tonight. Every few minutes her fingers would lightly curl against his skin or move slightly up or down, sending little shivers over his skin. As far as he was concerned, she could do anything she wanted to him as long as it was her choice.

It surprises him when Lucy starts to press forward. At first one of his hands moves to keep from falling back onto the couch, but her sudden whine triggers him to let it happen and the next thing he knows Lucy is using him as a bed. So, he wraps his left arm more firmly around her body to make sure she doesn’t fall off.

Lucy lifts her head to look Natsu in the eyes. “Is this okay?” She questions him. “Am I too heavy?”

“I don’t mind,” he smiles at her, “but are you comfortable? I could shift us over so we’re more on our sides.”

“That would be great. Just felt like snuggling more.”

He kisses her lips. “Works for me.” Natsu then adjusts their bodies carefully until Lucy’s back is resting against the couches backing with her head on his shoulder and chest. She wraps her arm around his torso and huddles close to his frame, while their legs are slightly tangled together. “Comfy?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nods her head against his chest and closes her eyes.

Natsu kisses the top of her head, bringing a smile to her face, then wraps his left arm over to rest his hand on her shoulder and cuddle her close. “Goodnight, Lucy.”

“Mmm. Goodnight, Natsu.”

Eight months ago, the only thing Natsu thought about was a career and now after that fateful train ride he knew his new goal in life had to include the blonde next to him. Lucy felt so perfect in his arms and oh, if only he could wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life, well than he’d be the luckiest man on the planet. With a smile of his own, he closes his eyes and lets the cadence of her heartbeat lull him to sleep. This was a very happy Halloween indeed!

Just to give an idea this is Shibuya on Halloween: I’m so sad I didn’t get to see it this year like I was supposed to ;-; but Natsu and Lucy got to have a little fun in my place lol.

Also a warning, the story gets much more angsty after this for several chapters 😅