#when you’re a scientist and can just tell they don’t remember anything from a science class higher than the third grade

[ryusuisloveinterest]

That’s illogical! Senku Ishigami x Reader

Hello girlypops! I wanted to write again so this is what I came up with. It’s a little long but I hope you enjoy. This is technically in Dr Stone 4d science but it doesn’t really have anything to do with the story. Anyway I hope you like it! Also, friendly reminder that requests are open!

Thats’s illogical! Senku x reader

It’s late at night when Senku finally leaves the lab. He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t think he has the energy to drive home. As he’s walking towards his car, he notices the coffee shop across from the lab. They can’t still be open, right? Despite for some caffeine, he walks over to the café.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You finish sweeping the lobby of the coffee shop. Sighing you look at the time. “One minute left until closing.” You stretch as you go to the back to put up the broom. As you take a quick breather you hear the bell to the door. Are you serious? You go back to the front and put on a fake smile. “Welcome in! Is there anything I can help you with tonight?” As you look at the customer, you immediately know who it is. There’s no way…it can’t really be… “Oh thanks. You’re not about to close right? I can leave if you need-“ “I’m Senku Ishigami…” Senku’s eyebrow raises. “What?” You fast instantly turns red. “No! I mean y-you’re Senku Ishigami… im just, it doesn’t matter….h-how can I help you??” Senku stares at you awkwardly, but tells you his order anyway. He tries to hand you some cash but you tell him it’s on the house. “I-I already counted the till for tonight anyway…” He simply shrugs and sits in a booth, waiting for his drink. Your mind blanks as you try to remember how to make the drink. You’re so scared about your idol being right behind you that you mess up once or twice. “H-here you go…” Senku gets up and grabs it from you, telling you his thanks. He heads towards the door when you call out to him. “Y-you can stay! I-if you want!” He turns back. “But aren’t you closed?” You blush a little more, “yeah but…it’s ok if you wanna stay a little longer…” This causes Senku to blush. He doesn’t know why, but your shyness makes his heartbeat a little faster. “Sure, why not? I still have a few papers I can work on.” He takes a seat back in the booth and pulls out some work. You softly smile and begin cleaning the blenders, happy you he can be here longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, are you a scientist too?” Senku questions after 20 minutes of silence. You weren’t expecting him to strike a conversation, but you nod anyway. “I guess you could say that, but I don’t focus on chemistry and things along those lines. I’m more into biology, especially in marine life.” Senku smiles at your statement. “Interesting. I havent met a lot of marine biologist.” You blush a little more, happy that he acknowledged you as a real biologist. “Y’know we’re doing something with marine life in the lab.” You chuckle. “I read your paper about it. Using squid ink and turning it to fuel.” “So, you really are a fan?” He teases. Embarrassed, you turn away and finish putting away the remaining food. “C-can I show you something..?” Senku finishes the remainder of his drink and nods. “Sure, why not?” You go to the back and bring back a chunky sketchbook. You sit next to him and show him all the notes and pictures of marine animals and ecosystems. Each little page was full of color and writing. Senku smiles and giggles. “This looks really good! You know your stuff huh?” You smile. “Can I tell you my opinion on your paper?” He nods. “It’s all I wanna hear.” You talk with him for what feels like forever, first it was about the paper, then about each others day, then about anything else that came to each of your minds. After a while, you hear you phone ring. “Crap! I didn’t realize it was this late!” Quickly picking up everything you and Senku walk out together. “Well, that was fun. You’re nice to hang out with. What’s your name by the way?” “(Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n)!” “Well, I hope to see you around Dr. (Y/n).” As he walks, you call him one last time. “I-if you want, you can borrow this.” You hand him your sketchbook. He smiles even wider. “Thanks (y/n). I’ll be sure to bring it back!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Senku sits in his lab chair, flipping through the sketchbook you lent him. He smiles at the little comments and doodles you made, laughing slightly at the random, goofy facts here and there. “Senku, did you get my email about- what’re you reading?” Xeno pops in, looking at the sketchbook. “Oh, they’re notes about marine life.” Xeno looks through the sketchbook, noticing the handwriting and drawings. “This looks like (y/n)’s book.” Xeno points out. Senku shoots him a confused look. “You know (y/n)??” Xeno laughs. “Yeah, I met her at a science competition, she was the winner with her study on stingrays.” Senku doesn’t know how to respond, he just scoffs and continues flipping through the book. This makes xeno laugh again. “What? You’re mad because I know her? Or are you being possessive?” Senku chuckles. “That’s illogical! Why would I care who she talks to?  Besides it’s not like I’m her boyfriend or anything!” This peaks Xeno’s interest. “But do you want to be?” Senku’s face reddens. “T-that’s even more illogical! I just met her yesterday! It doesn’t make any sense, being in a relationship doesn’t make any sense!” He looks down at the book again, trying to hide his red face. This makes Xeno laugh even more as he walks out. “If it matters Senku, she loves to go to the aquarium, and I heard there’s gonna be an exhibit on octopi this weekend, if you’re interested.” Xeno leaves, leaving senku alone. “Tch, like I care…” He goes to his latest experiment trying to focus. But, he can’t shake your smile out of his head. “Ugh! If she wants to see the exhibit then why not? It’s not like I’m doing it cause I wanna spend time with her, it’s just so I can learn more! It’ll help my research too!” Senku claims to himself. Xeno watches Senku walk out flustered, hearing everything he just said. “Heh, whatever you say Senku…”

[tiredtreebranch1]

The Scientist?

“Sometimes it feels like everything I know is weighing me down.”

The hero glanced up at the scientist. This was the first time they had heard them speak since the hero had ‘saved’ them from the villain’s lair. They waited to see if the scientist would continue.

“It’s something they don’t tell you about pursuing knowledge. The more you get the heavier it weighs on you.”

The hero nodded slowly.

“And it’s not even the morality of what I know, that doesn’t bother me. At least I don’t think so. It’s the simple things I don’t want to let go. Everything from before now, before the turn to villainy. Things from high school.”

The scientist had the hero’s full attention now. They weren’t sure where the scientist was going but they wanted to find out.

“I used to be obsessed with history,” the hero’s eyes widened, and they added, “surprising, I know.”

“Really?” The hero couldn't help but ask. Everyone knew the scientist as the evil genius behind all the villain’s technology and poisons.

“Yes. Historical knowledge is the hardest for me to give up. I know everything from the inception of farming to the pyramids to the Russian revolution till now. There’s just something so intriguing about it all that I cannot bear to give it up.”

The scientist took a breath. They paused for a few seconds contemplating. They slowly began again, as if unsure whether to continue.

“I feel guilty from time to time that I’m not devoting my whole mind to the sciences, that I waste space with silly wars and ancient farming techniques. Do you know Sherlock Holmes? I’m sure you do.”

The hero nodded.

“I envy the man. His detachment from any unnecessary knowledge is astounding. I just can’t seem to do it, I’ve tried. Holmes is a detective first and foremost. The problem is that I’m not a scientist. I know you all see me as one.”

The hero looked at them questioningly. They were a scientist. It was their whole thing.

“Of course you do, I can’t blame you for that.”

The scientist paused, their bones seemed to turn to lead, weighing their shoulders down and forcing their eyes to stare gloomily at the floor.

The hero took a gamble, “tell me why you aren’t a scientist.”

The scientist looked up at the hero, “why?”

“Why not?”

The scientist seemed to consider it. They sat up straighter and made eye contact with the hero.

“I’m not a scientist because that’s not the only thing that I am. It’s like how you’re not a hero. Just because that’s something I do doesn’t mean it’s all I am. You can say it for anyone. The villain isn’t a villain. The sidekick isn’t a sidekick. I’m a history nerd and I love to cook. You’re a reader or a baker or a whatever. You’re not just what everyone says you are.”

The hero stared at them. They’d always been The Hero.

“It’s something everyone seems to forget and endeavours to make you feel guilty over when you do remember,” the history nerd said.

“I can’t remember the last time someone cared about anything but my science brain,” the cook admitted.

The hero sat there in stunned silence.

“Maybe you don’t understand but I think you should. Just because you’ve saved all the people that you gave doesn’t mean that’s what you have to make your whole identity.”

The person sighed and looked away when the hero gave them a blank stare. A bone deep disappointment appeared to fill them. As if this was something they’d become so accustomed to that they couldn’t bring themselves to be surprised by The Hero’s lack of understanding.

The air grew stagnant again.

“I like knitting,” the knitter whispered into the thick silence.

The history lover looked up and smiled.

[niuniente]

When speaking about the fact that we don’t know everything yet and science is constantly evolving, my favorite example are European witch hunts. Not as “people went crazy” but as how law and medical science treated people who were accused as witches.

Some examples of a book I’m reading now (in Finnish), which is based on mid-17th century (1650′s-1680′s) witch trial court record from Stockholm, Sweden. Mind you that compared to other witch ridden countries, Sweden and Stockholm had a much more skeptical approach to witches and children’s testimonies - and yet these things happened.

It was a scientific fact in the 17th century that witches exist. Point blank serious thing and 100% real. As real as all scientific facts, which we believe in now and now about, in year 2023. To battle this problem, Sweden made multiple jury groups from most scientifically educated people containing lawyers, priests, doctors and heads of the Swedish law system. Some complains were sent to the king, who also took a legal stance to help Sweden to deal with these horrible crimes.

Now, it was also a scientific and a legal fact that if there are enough people testifying against you, you are a witch. If you have 2 neighbors, 10 random children and your own 2 daughters telling in the court that you’re a witch, then you are a witch. Point blank. If you say that you don’t know what they are talking about and you are not a witch, then it means the Devil is preventing you from telling the truth. In fact, many of the people testifying against you are screaming that they see The Devil sitting on your throat and preventing you from telling the truth of you being a witch. The jury will press you to confess for the name of God, as it’s scientifically and legally a completely clear case that you are a witch by this point. If you testify, you will be executed before your body is burnt. If not, you might be considered such a vile criminal for the downfall of the whole society that you’re burned alive.

No matter what you say to protect yourself and tell you’re innocent will not work, because it is a scientific fact that the devil is causing this lying. Has he promised you eternal salvation after death? Is he choking you as we speak? Why don’t you confess, we know you did it.

It’s also a scientific fact that some people don’t remember witches taking them to Blåkulla (the place where witches go to party with the Devil). Some people don’t even remember that they are, in fact, witches themselves. It is scientifically proven than these memories can surface when someone else says that they saw you in Blåkulla or how you took children there.

While some scientists ponder if some of the visions people have are just illusions caused by the Devil, when so many people testify about you being a witch, it can’t be delusion. Children can’t make up stories, as it’s scientifically proven thing that children are innocent and can’t lie.

It’s also scientifically proven fact that visits to Blåkulla might leave marks on your body, or on the victims body. If someone accusing you being a witch says that you whipped them on the hand with snaked in Blåkulla, and indeed wounds or red marks are found on their arm, then it’s a scientific proof that you are a witch.

What is remarkable is that the law system, the scientists, the most educated people of the time, took these seriously and constantly made sure that they are following laws and won’t overdo anything. They didn’t want to judge innocent people or sentence wrong people to die. They did their best to prevent these wrong-doings from happening. And yet, this all happened.

Based on all this made-up nonsense, which we now understand not being possible at all, keeps my mind humble and thirsty for more scientific findings. It makes me wonder what people will see in our current time as same kind of (dangerous) nonsense as people during Witch Craze saw as the unshakable truth.

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee (Transformers) Chapter 9

“Can I help you?”

This person was not someone you knew. He looked about your age with dark eyes and similar dark hair. He was dressed in a red shirt with dark jeans. The little writing on his clothing read Laserbeak. 

A brand you weren’t exactly familiar with.

“I’m Daniel Beak."

There was something menacing about his energy. Maybe you were just imagining it.

“I moved in down the street and I was just getting acquainted with my neighbors.” Your grandmother caught the ending of that conversation.

“A new friend, why don’t you stay for dinner!”

“Grandma!”

She obviously hadn’t seen an episode of criminal minds.

“Oh relax sweetheart he’s new. Remember how put out you were when you first came. Please come in.”

He offered a smile and you moved to the side to let him in. As you’re about to close the door, your eyes catch a figure down the road. He was just standing there. When your eyes connected with Bee’s sapphire ones, you felt a harsh throb in your chest. 

He looked so hurt, devastated. From his slightly disheveled look it was clear that he’d run all the way from who knows where. You held a gaze for a few moments, right before your eyes lowered and you turned your back, closing the door.

~~~

Dinner continued without a hitch. You would have been thankful for the company of a new friend if not for the serious energy you were getting from this boy. As an aspiring scientist the only thing you could really depend on outside of science was your gut. It never really steered you wrong. After all, you did find the aliens.

That’s why as you smiled and joked with Daniel, you kept a close eye on him.

Maybe it was just paranoia. You had just survived a terrifying attack.

As the sun began to set, you cleaned the table, and your grandmother held a plate for Daniel to take home.

“Please stop by again. We love the company.”

He nodded.

“Thank you for having me. I guess I’ll be heading out. “

“Wait Daniel, do you mind if I walk you back?”

He looks eager.

“Of course not, thank you.” 

His smile was wide, and you waved to your grandmother as you exited the house.

“So what brought you all the way to Los Angeles. It must be lonely living on your own.”

“I enjoy the solitude, no parents to tell you what to do. I was fortunate to get independence at my age. I pretty much take care of myself.”

You walk in step with him, trying to get something, anything that would point to why you felt unnerved around this stranger who appeared harmless. It dawned on you that maybe you should have grabbed something to defend yourself in case he turned out to be a psycho.

He lived a few blocks down, and when he turned in the gate, you stood there.

“Well I guess I’ll see you at school.” You place the most convincing smile on your face that you can. He returns it, hand brushing your arm. You don’t think much of it.

“See you later (Y/N).”

You nod a bit awkwardly watching him enter the house. When he’s out of sight, you turn around heading back.

You only make it two steps before you feel a pull in your chest. Your feet stagger, and you look down at your hands in shock.

“What.. the hell..”

The blue glow that is reflected off your veins is not what you expect. Your heart rate increases and you pull down the sleeves of your sweater, running back to your house.

Daniel grins from his spot in the upstairs window.

“Let the games begin.” 

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

The fact that you work retail makes a lot of sense actually

Customer service is truly the easiest way to radicalize someone.

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!

Finally

Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)

Word Count: 2735

a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist

"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.

It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.

"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.

"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.

"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.

"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.

"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.

"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.

You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.

By then it was too late.

"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.

You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.

"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.

"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.

"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.

"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."

He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.

"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.

"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.

-

"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.

"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.

The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.

"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.

"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."

"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.

Just then Hotch's phone rang.

"L/N?" He answered on speaker.

"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.

"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.

"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."

"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.

"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.

"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.

"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."

You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.

As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.

Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.

You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.

"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.

"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.

"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.

"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.

"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.

"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.

"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.

"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.

"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.

"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.

"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.

"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."

You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.

"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.

"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.

"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.

"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.

"Alright, how can I help?"

You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.

-

"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."

"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.

"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.

"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.

"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.

"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.

"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.

"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.

"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.

"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.

"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.

"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.

"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.

-

"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.

"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.

"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.

"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.

"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.

"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.

"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.

"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.

"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.

"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.

-

"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.

"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.

"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.

"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.

"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.

"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.

"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.

"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."

He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.

"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."

"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"

"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.

"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.

"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.

"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."

Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.

"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"

You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once.

I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.

I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."

The message cut off abruptly at that point.

You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.

"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.

"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.

"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.

"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.

It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.

He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.

The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.

"Finally."

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn

Criminal Minds tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

[smells-like-mettaton]

Tali’s Alphys-Centric Fic Rec List

I’ve been meaning to make this for a while!! All fics are oneshots unless marked as a series or with a chapter count.  Thanks to everyone who recced several of these to me on my 12am begging-for-alphys-fics post dfdksdl. These aren’t in any particular order. The “notes” section is my commentary about each fic. No fics are based on full AUs (ex. underswap, horrortale, etc). The only endgame Alphys ship included is Alphyne, though most of the fics listed are gen. Hope you can find something you enjoy here!

Extra Credit by FriedCatfish

Rating: G // Word count: 1,206 Summary: Undyne loses track of time watching anime. Set before the events of the game. Notes: Cute Alphyne oneshot! Short and sweet, very nice characterization

world comes pouring through by feralpheonix

Rating: G // Word count: 1,655 Summary: Alphys reunites with some old friends on the way home from taking care of business. Notes: 2nd person Alphys pov but it surprisingly works? A small moment with Alphys, Bratty, and Catty, which I literally NEVER see content for so it was really refreshing!! Takes place at/near the end of the pacifist route.

white lies to the dead by MiniNephthys

Rating: T // Word Count: 580 Summary: Alphys walks through Waterfall, talking to someone who's not there. Notes: Queen Alphys ending; Alphys “talks” to Undyne after she’s been killed. Hits me right in all the emotions ;;

Found Soul by LibraLibrary

Rating: T // Word Count: 1,331 Summary: Self-worth is a slippery, fleeting little devil, and the bastard flower that killed you isn't helping. Takes place during the final fight of the True Pacifist run, following Alphys from one purgatory to the next. Notes: Very angsty, definitely make sure you’re ready to handle Alphys’s suicidal thoughts, but a very good read! I love seeing the Lost Soul battle from her POV.

And I Feel Fine by Masu_Trout

Rating: T // Word Count: 1,685 Summary: The fallen human is human is fast approaching The Core, and Mettaton is ready to finally take the stage. Now, if only Alphys would stop worrying so much. Notes: Alphys & Mettaton friendship in the no mercy route, but manages to be surprisingly not depressing. Mettaton POV but definitely still deserves to be here. This fic does a great job of characterizing them both and it’s always great to see Alphys working in her element.

Experimentation by pickledragon

Rating: G // Word Count: 1,531 Summary: Alphys is, above all, a scientist. She may watch anime with religious fervor and make horrible Undernet shitposts in her free time, but she is good at her job. She knows what they say about her, behind her back. But when she stands there, time open before her, she resolves to collect data. Each experiment, intentional or not, brings new opportunities to change certain variables and observe others. Alphys is a scientist, after all. Notes: THIS FIC. it’s technically part of a series but it stands on its own (it’s the only one i’ve read by this author). EXCELLENT alphys characterization and writing style. Some Sans & Alphys friendship too which is always stellar. If you didn’t gather from the summary, it’s an alphys starts to remember resets fic.

Memory by Ash_yeet

Rating: T // Word Count: 19,962 // Chapters: 5/20 Summary: It's been two years since monsterkind have joined the humans on the surface, and Alphys is happier than she's ever been. But things can't stay great forever. She starts having nightmares, lapses in memory, flashbacks to things that have never happened. She hopes it will pass... sans is doing his best to adjust to life. When Alphys reaches out to him about her nightmares, he doesn't expect much. He quickly changes his tune. Someone is trying to come back. And they aren't what they used to be.sans and Alphys are trying to move on. But there's one thing they forgot: No matter how hard you try, you can't run from your past. Notes: I’ve only read chapter one so far, but it’s been really good! Looks like it’s going to involve Gaster in some way. Says it’s on short hiatus but was updated in April so doesn’t look abandoned.

Hot and Cold Blooded (Alphyne series) by perniciousLizard

Rating: varies by fic, usually G but a few T and one E // Word count: 36,516 // Works: 18/18 Summary: This series is a place to put all my Alphys/Undyne stories that aren't part of another series. Notes: this series has something for everyone; you can pick and choose which works to read. Most are feel-good fluff and humor, some hurt/comfort too. Some connect to the author’s Sansby series (which i also can’t recommend enough)

When Life Hands You Enantiomers by Kaesa

Rating: T // Word Count: 2,739 Summary: Alphys has a half-finished tile maze puzzle, reams of useless data, and a bunch of piranhas that can't tell the difference between lemon and orange scent. Sans has donuts. Notes: ONE OF MY VERY FAVORITES. Fun puns, science, alphys & sans friendship, piranhas, the opportunity to actually understand organic chemistry references,, it’s so good and fun

Friendshipping by AyuOhseki

Rating: G // Word Count: 4,564 Summary: Sans finds Alphys's secret Sans/Grillby RPF. This won't get weird or awkward or anything, we're sure. Notes: Hilarious Alphys narration, great characterization, it’s just so silly and warms my heart. I love terrible fanfic writer Alphys

social links by simplycarryon

Rating: G // Word Count: 2,525 Summary: Friendship's pretty neat, or so your video games and anime dictate. But you are not an anime protagonist, and you're not sure you know what friendship is any more. Notes: more solid sans & alphys friendship :D

See You Another Time by decamarks

Rating: T // Word Count: 18,500 // Chapters: 1/14 Summary: “Have you ever thought of a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you don’t exist? Everything functions perfectly without you.” Alphys spent a lot of time thinking about what it’d be like to start over. It wasn’t fair for someone like her to escape consequences. She knew that, yet the thought never left her mind—the thought that maybe, just maybe, she could get another chance; that she could abandon her life, her failures—everything—and start anew. But that would never happen. Sometimes, Alphys wondered. Would the world be better off without her? When unexplainable anomalies appear and begin to warp the world around her, Alphys discovers something she was never meant to know: the identity of the former Royal Scientist, and how he met his demise. Doctor W.D. Gaster vanished without a trace; he was erased from reality after an experiment ended in disgrace. Forgotten by the world, shattered across time and space—it’s like he never existed in the first place.And Alphys can’t imagine a better fate. Notes: This is a monster of a first chapter but definitely worth the read!! So much good stuff happening already. I’m a total wuss but I still love the cosmic/existential horror bits going on so far. Great Sans & alphys friendship and Undyne & alphys friendship so far.  All the amalgamates also feel incredibly well written. Can’t wait to see more of this one

(And here are a few of my own Alphys-centric fics as well)

Seventh Time’s the Charm by Taliax

Rating: G // Word Count: 1,519 // Chapters: 1/7 Summary: Six bad "dates" Alphys has been on, plus one that is actually pretty good. Notes: Alphys is my favorite and I love giving her a bad time. First chapter is a “date” she has with Sans. Next chapter which I have in progress is going to be Papyrus. (Alphyne is still endgame of course.) Set mostly before the events tof the game. Get ready for lots of second-hand embarrassment sdlfkjds

Support Character by Taliax

Rating: T // Word Count: 1,814 Summary: If Sans is determined to fight the human, Alphys is going to make sure he's prepared. Notes: Sans & Alphys no mercy route friendship, based on the headcanon that Alphys was the one to give Sans the powers/magic he uses to fight the human.

it's your best life (if it's the life that you're living right now) by Taliax

Rating: T // Word Count: 4,046 Summary: Through messages saved to Sans's phone, Queen Alphys gets a glimpse at lives that might have been.  With so many possibilities... how did this timeline go so wrong? Notes: Sans & Alphys friendship, Queen Alphys ending, mostly angst/hurt/comfort. I’m really proud of this one and it uses my main headcanon for how Sans knows about resets.

The Trans-Underground Alphys-Carrying, Match-Making Road Trip by Taliax

Rating: G // Word Count: 5,713 Summary: From her secret security camera, Alphys gets too invested in Sans's relationship with the voice behind the door.  This wouldn't be a problem if Mettaton didn't decide to take her ship into his own hands. Trying to catch up with a battery-powered robot is hard work, but telling the truth is even harder. Notes: This is a really silly fic with some hurt/comfort sprinkled in. Has some Soriel and Papyton in the background. Has some Alphys & Papyrus friendship as well which is always underrated in my opinion.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day three

kuroo tetsurou - aphrodisiacs 

kinktober faq  kinktober prompt list  

NSFW warning featuring: the accidental consumption of an aphrodisiac, kuroo with an undying need for U, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, begging other tags: scientist! kuroo!, me not knowing shit about science or working in a science lab or aphrodisiacs, me not knowing shit about anything, this isn’t realistic at all just look over it, can aphrodisiacs be inhaled? who knows, established relationship, cursing  gender neutral reader

word count: 2050

-

Kuroo made a mistake. 

He was careful, like he always is. He strictly follows the rules of his workspace because he knows it’s otherwise unsafe; working in a science lab can be dangerous. 

He was only preparing a sample, something he’s done dozens of times. They had just started a new project on chemical aphrodisiac studies, something he wasn’t excited about, but it didn’t matter to him - he was just doing his job, even if he does think this experiment will be a bust. And maybe he shouldn’t have been holding the bottle this aphrodisiac was stored in and just left it to sit on the counter to avoid a mishap - then again, maybe it shouldn’t have been stored in a glass bottle in the first place.

So, really, it’s not his fault.

The phone across the room rang out of nowhere, and for some reason, it terrified him. He was jump scared by a telephone ringing, and the glass slipped out of his hand and onto the pristine counter top, shattering across the surface which was immediately covered in the crimson liquid. 

The first thing Kuroo noticed was how sweet the substance smelled. He remembers one of his lab partners telling him, at the beginning of this study, about the claims of this fluid; apparently the pheromones inside are strong enough to send anyone into a sexual hunger like no other. Just one smell is enough to do the trick. That was the point of this study, to determine if it was true and if so, how true, but Kuroo wasn’t supposed to be the test subject. 

It didn’t really matter, though. He laughed it off. 

Aphrodisiac studies are all bullshit, anyway, and have always been a waste of time and money. 

He left the room to tell his coworkers of the accident and to ensure the proper way to clean up his mess. But he didn’t think he’d be sent home immediately. 

The wide eyes of his peers made him laugh - it’s not like he started a fire or ingested a poisonous substance. He only got one good whiff of the stuff, so he really didn’t think it was a big deal. But, to them, it was a huge deal, so he made his way home knowing that nothing would happen. 

Aphrodisiacs are bullshit. 

On his drive home, he decided he’d give you a call and tell you all about it - he needed someone to laugh at this situation with him. 

Sure enough, you did. “Of course you’re the one who inhales the powerful aphrodisiac before the experiment even gets started.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I can be clumsy, I get it. Just be ready for me to be ferociously horny when I get home, babe.” 

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” you laughed. “I’ll be here in my bathrobe with a face mask on - you won’t be able to resist me.” 

“Come on, you already know I think you’re sexy at all times of the day. Even first thing in the morning - hold on, it’s three pm and you’re already getting ready for bed?” 

“It’s already been a long day!” you argued. “We can have a spa day when you get home.” 

“That sounds nice - I’m down.” 

The conversation took his mind off of his earlier mistake, and when he got home, he had completely forgotten about it. He had his spa day, the two of you had dinner, you fell asleep on his shoulder while watching a movie on the couch - it was a typical day, save for his early arrival home. 

Nothing had changed, and Tetsurou noticed no side effects. 

Until he woke up in the middle of the night. 

There was this pressure in his head, a throbbing that wouldn’t go away. His heart was pounding and it was all he could hear. His arms felt tense, his entire body felt stiff, he was drenched in sweat. 

And he was holding onto you tight - he must have pulled you against him in his sleep and locked his arms around you. He’s definitely never been one to cling to you while he sleeps, so it felt a little too close for comfort.

Then, suddenly, he felt like he had run into a brick wall. His blood was rushing, he felt dizzy for seemingly no reason, and that’s when it all started. 

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling away from you and rolling onto his back. He didn’t feel good, and not touching you made him feel weak. “Oh, fuck.” 

That’s when he remembered what happened today at work. 

But there was no way that was the reason for this - aphrodisiacs are bullshit - this couldn’t be caused by inhaling that fake love drug. 

He needed to calm down, to get out of his head. It was all a placebo effect, and if he can just calm down, he can go back to sleep and he’ll wake up fine. 

“Tetsu?” 

The sound of your voice made him jump, and the look of your cute tired face made everything worse. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” he replied, already feeling guilty at the sound of your worried tone. “It’s nothing, babe, go back to sleep.” 

You were already sitting up, though, and you had already turned the bedside lamp on. 

“Are you alright?” And your hand was on his cheek before he could see it coming, before he could tell you not to worry. “You’re burning.” 

“I feel like I am,” he said. Everything was hot and amplified and overwhelming, and the only thing that seemed to help was your touch - but at the same time, it was making it worse. “Fuck.” 

“I’m going to go get you some water,” you said, but before your feet could hit the floor Tetsurou was pulling you back into bed. 

“No, don’t - don’t leave.” It was like something was taking over him. He didn’t feel like himself, but he didn’t care. The thought of you going anywhere else was something he just couldn’t handle - even if it was in the next room, it was still too far away. “Come here.” 

He pulled you closer and closer until your lips were on his, and just one kiss made him feel like he needed to completely devour you. 

That was it. That’s what was wrong with him. He needed you - that was the problem. 

“I need you,” he moaned, rolling on top of you. “Let me have you.” 

“Tetsu, it’s the middle of the night.” 

“Please,” he begged, whining into your neck. He didn’t realize how hard he was until he started grinding against your hip, and what was usually pleasurable friction was now nothing but painful teasing. “Fuck, it hurts, kitten. Please, I need you - make it stop, make me feel better.” 

You’d never seen him like this. You’d never heard him whining or begging for you - you couldn’t deny how much it turned you on, even if it was the middle of the night. 

“Do you still think aphrodisiacs are bullshit?” you asked him with a laugh, but it was like he couldn’t even hear you. He didn’t reply, didn’t laugh, didn’t stop moving his hips. All he could do was beg for you, and it made it obvious that you were going to have to take the reigns. 

“Okay, Tetsurou,” you breathed, pushing him off of you so you could look at him. “Let’s get your shirt off, baby.” 

You pulled his shirt off as he tugged his underwear down, all while his begging continued. 

His entire body felt hot. You were sure he was running a fever and that this isn’t what he needed to be doing - he would probably benefit more from a cold shower - but you knew he wouldn’t listen to you if you told him that. 

“Tetsu, are you sure you don’t need some water?” 

“No,” he insisted. “I just need to fuck you. Need to be inside of you, need to cum in you - please, baby. You’re all I can think about - I just want you.” 

If he says you’re the only thing he needs, then what else can you do but give yourself to him? You’re the only one who can help him through this, so you have to give him what he needs. 

“Okay,” you replied, “fuck me, Tetsurou.” 

That’s all he needed to hear - he felt like he was waiting years to hear that consent, and now that he knew you wanted him too, he had no patience left. 

He pulled your underwear off and you’re sure you heard it ripping, but you didn’t even care. Neither did he. He couldn’t wait, if he waited even a second longer he would scream, but the moment he finally sunk into you he felt like doing just that. 

“Oh, holy fuck, that’s tight,” he moaned; he was completely lost in you. 

He was already close. He had been teetering the edge from the moment he woke up, he just didn’t realize it until there was something to push him over. It’s like he was just about to cum, after hours of being brought to the brink, but had no way of getting that release. 

His hips moved as if he had no way of controlling them. It was hard, fast, and rough, and you found yourself loving it. You were basking in his unharbored need for you, needing him just as much, wanting him to go even further. 

Tetsurou didn’t even last a minute, but it didn’t matter - he fucked you through it and didn’t stop. He hardly even felt it. Cumming didn’t take his pain or need for you away, it only amplified it. 

But for the first time that night, it actually felt like he was there. He could control his movements; he could open his eyes and see what he was doing; he could take a deep breath without feeling his head spin. 

His hips slowed down so he could wrap his arm underneath your leg, pulling your body into a new position that helped you feel as good as he did. 

“Fuck, kitten,” he cursed, watching as his cock dipped in and out of you. “You’re all I need - you’re so good, too good. Taking my cock so well, being so good for me. No one else can make me feel like this - only you.” 

“Tetsurou, fuck!”  

“That’s it,” he said with a wide smirk, “scream for me, kitten. I want everyone to know who’s fucking you so well - come on, do it, scream my name.” 

With how good he was making you feel it was impossible not to reward him with what he wanted, and you were so close to finishing that you didn’t care about any embarrassment moaning so loud would lead to. 

The louder you were, the faster he pounded into you. Little time passed before you were milking his cock for everything he had, cumming so hard on him that he had no control over his own orgasm. 

And it was everything he needed. He was seeing stars, floating through space, completely weightless, all because of you; you were everything he needed. He’d never felt so much relief. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, “holy shit.” 

You were catching your breath, while Kuroo felt like he was breathing for the first time in his life. Now, the only thing he needed was air in his lungs; he was exhausted and sensitive and, finally, back on earth. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I am now. Holy shit. Are you okay?” 

You laughed, “Yeah, babe,” but he looked over your body just to be sure. 

“What time even is it?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know what came over me - I’ve never needed to fuck you that badly.” 

“I liked it,” you told him. “Your begging was hot. You should bring some of that chemical aphrodisiac bullshit home, babe.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” he scoffed as he was cleaning both of you up. “That is not the cause of this.” 

“You just can’t stand to be wrong, can you?” 

“I’m not wrong!” he insisted, but Kuroo knew he was lying through his teeth. 

Aphrodisiacs are, in fact, not bullshit, but he’d never admit it - not even for the sake of science. 

But, maybe, the two of you would have to do some more experimenting of your own. 

-

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 4: in public 

[brianllamawrites]

Bad Idea 2 (Eowells x Reader)

A/N: The sequel to this fic! I might (I might not) end up writing more for this if I get any more ideas!

Word Count: 924

Tagging: @ageless-aislynn  @khayrrilrainxwells ​ @mcbenson25-blog

Eobard woke to a weight on his stomach and a chill across his shoulders. He couldn't quite remember what had happened, but he was certain it was something annoyingly painful. So painful that he must have required medical attention; after all, he failed to think of any other reason as to why he was in a medical bed in the middle of the cortex, covered in a blanket that was slightly too small. The room was almost completely empty except for you. You sat on a stool next to his bed with your arms and head resting on his stomach — he must have been out of it for a while.

Instinctively, Eobard reached out to stroke your hair, but his harm tensed at the last minute. The last time you two were alone together, it ended with a rather emotionally conflicting hug. And what was it you had said? Oh, that’s right, you hated him. That being so, you did look awfully comfortable sleeping on him.

He gently squeezed your arm until you woke up.

You grumbled something, then froze as you opened your eyes. Oh god. Stiffly, you sat up and rushed to straighten your clothes. “Hi.”

Eobard narrowed his eyes at the jumper you were wearing. It was black and oversized… It was his.

“Hi,” he said, his tone sounding more perplexed than he intended. “This is pleasant. I was under the impression that you hated me.”

“I do.” You paused and looked away, unable to look him in the eyes. “You were stung by a bee. Your uh, heart stopped.”

Stung. Now he remembered. He was going to discreetly use his speed to save himself from the bee, but then got distracted when Barry had sped into the room in a speedster panic.

“It took a moment, but I managed to stabilise you whilst Caitlin got an antidote.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You saved me?” Eobard let the words hang in the air as he processed the idea. “Why?”

“Well, for starters—” he shifted to sit up and didn’t pay any notice to the blanket that slid off of him “—you found out about my real identity a few weeks ago.”

You bit your lip, already regretting what you were going to say. “You’re… You’re my best friend. You have been for the past five years; before we started dating, before team flash, and even before Cisco and Caitlin joined STAR Labs. That’s not something I can just move on from.”

Eobard didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t stand the silence. “Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to tell people my murderer boyfriend was murdered by a small robot bee without making some kind of poorly timed joke about it so… I couldn’t let that happen.”

Eobard swallowed the lump in his throat. Best friend. Before he had met you, he hadn’t had the pleasure of having such a thing. But when he had first met you, he couldn’t help but form a connection.

It was the graduation of your third doctorate at Hudson University. Eobard was there to hire Doctor Walter Drake, but it was you that caught his attention first. He recognised you as one of the scientists that teachers from the twenty-second century would hold in high esteem — and rightfully so. Tragically, other than in a few high school science lessons, your work was widely overlooked. Eobard, however, took great interest in your work.

You were stood at the far end of the hall, alone and miserable, looking out at the crowd of graduates.

After approaching you and exchanging introductions, he pointed out that you looked like you wanted to be anywhere but there, to which you agreed. It felt stupid having a graduation ceromony held by people who did nothing but scoff at your work. You offhandedly said that if murder was legal, you’d be a two, maybe three-time murderer by now. He couldn’t help but chuckle which, at first, caught you off guard. People rarely laughed when you joked about murder. One conversation about your work later, Eobard had found himself talking you into skipping the graduation ceremony. Instead, the two of you went to Big Belly Burger and talked about each other's theories on time travel. 

It felt quite foreign to say aloud, but yes, you were in fact his best friend.

“A robot bee?” Eobard finally said.

“Yeah. Made by Brie Larvin, she used to work at Mercury Labs. Everyone’s there now, talking to Doctor McGee.”

Eobard nodded and crossed his arms against his bare chest. He had a faint, smug smile. “Hmm, you’re right. You would make a poorly timed joke about it.”

“The worst part about it would be that you’re the only one who would laugh, and you’d be a bit too dead to do that.”

“That’s what you think the worst part would be?” He scoffed playfully. “I’m glad to know you’ve gotten your priorities in order.”

Your eyes met and the two of you shared a look before laughing. As the laughter died down, you both stopped smiling, presumably sharing the same thought.

Damnit. “Neither of us are going to move on, are we?” asked Eobard.

Hesitantly, you shook your head. “Do you want your jumper back?”

He thought about it for a moment. You hadn’t worn any of his clothes since you found out about his real identity. And it wasn’t just any jumper, it was the specific one he had lent you just after you had started dating.

“Keep it,” he said, “it looks better on you anyway.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

[wonderful-wells-writing]

Fanclub; Chapter 1

EoWells x Reader

Some of the STAR Labs employees have a secret fanclub where they discuss Harrison Wells and share pictures they take when they think he isn't looking. Problem is it's not quite as secret as they think it is. The man himself seems to have taken an interest in the the little group, finding it to be the perfect place to find willing partners to satisfy his needs. And you're his next pick.

Work is dying down for the evening at STAR Labs. Chemists are checking that all the storage units are set to the proper temperatures. Engineers are making sure that everything that needs to be powered down is. Lab techs are cleaning up their stations. But nearly everybody is discussing their plans for the weekend.

There is one worker who is not engaging in such conversations. You are currently crammed between two sections of machinery, determined to get this wiring finished before leaving for the day. That way, Monday, bright and early your team can start doing test runs.

You are not engaging in conversation with others but rather are talking to yourself as you work. “Some red over here, blue wire over there.” Your grin would light up the room if anybody could see it. “I just love when a color-coded array comes together.” There’s a buzz on your right butt-cheek, and you squeal in surprise.

“Everything alright in there?” One of the other scientists looks up from the desk.

“Yeah, Bri,” you extract yourself from the machine parts. “My phone just went off, and I thought something shocked me.”

“Girl, I can not tell you how often that happens to me,” Bri takes her purse from a drawer and a jacket off the chair. “So, what are your plans for the weekend. More number crunching?”

You pull your phone from your back pocket. “Actually my college roommate is having a bachelorette party tonight. So I said I would swing by the bar for a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Bri gives a wave before heading to the door. “Don’t party too hard.”

She returns the wave before opening a group chat app on her phone to see what the notification is about.

KittyCat42; O.M.G did you see Dr. Wells today? a shirt THAT tight can not be workplace appropriate!!!

Attached is a photo taken from a smartphone at an angle in which the subject does not seem to be aware their picture is being taken. Dr. Harrison Wells is leaning over a desk, examining something on a monitor. Kitty is right; his shirt is very tight, his biceps bulge through the long black sleeves.

You grin, considering sending a reply, but another message comes in first.

YummyBitch73; Think he’s got plans? Looking that good, he’s got to be going out tonight.

Your thumbs move across the screen to type a quick response.

BabyDoll14; Maybe he has a date tonight?

KittyCat42; wonder who the lucky girl is?

You lean against a nearby workbench, smirking at the screen.

---

On the other side of the lab, somebody picks up their phone to check the barrage of notifications coming in. They chuckle before adding their own two cents.

Speedy22: Hey, who knows, it could be a lucky guy.

YummyBitch73: Oh you wish, he is a lady killer through and through

BabyDoll14: I mean, who are we to judge if it’s a lucky lady or gent. Maybe he swings one way, maybe he swings both ways. Who cares, we’re just here to talk about his ass behind his back.

“Speedy’ nods, almost respecting the woman on the other side of the screen for staying objective about objectifying her boss.

Speedy22: Speaking of ass, I got this one yesterday

He opens his gallery and scrolls until an ‘appropriate picture is found. A nice shot of Dr. Wells from behind; the quality is incredible for a smartphone shot. The man’s shirt is riding up, showing a nice strip of the skin of his back, even a bit of where his boxers rise above the waistband of his hands.

YummyBitch73: Damn Speedy, you always get the good ones. You’ll have to teach me some photography lessons sometime.

KittyCat42: what kind of camera are you using? The quality is so gooooood.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice draws his attention away from his device. “Are you staying late again tonight?”

Harrison Wells takes a breath to look her up and down, mentally running through his mind all the employees to try and remember who it is at his office door. “I’ll be headed out soon; I just have to wrap some things up.”

He recalls who she is when he sees the look she’s giving him. Brianna Masters, a specialist working down in Lab C. She would have had to go out of her way to get to his office before leaving. Self-proclaimed president of the Dr. Wells Fanclub, he had just been interacting with the group chat of; after the former president left with a job offer at Mercury Labs. She had been making goo-goo eyes at him since her interview three months ago.

“Well,” Bri twirls a curl of her hair, fluttering her eyelashes. “Harrison, you know I was wondering if you might like to take me out to get some drinks tonight?”

Dr. Wells tries to hide his displeasure at the thought. She wasn’t his type, physically, mentally, emotionally, “I have plans in the morning that require a clear head. Miss. Masters. Now is there anything of importance that you need?” The man was not adverse to flights of fancy to pass the time; he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on the little Fanclub of his if he wasn’t willing to look for ‘interested parties,’ but this particular woman has been of no real interest to him.

For reasons such as how she pouts at his response, “Well, having fun is important.” She mutters before wandering off down the hall, turning her attention to her phone.

YummyBitch73; holy Shit! He just asked me out for drinks. It sucks so much that I have to drive out to Coast City; I”d have taken him up in a heartbeat otherwise.

----

Back in Lab C, you finally finish with the maintenance on the machine. You check your phone once more while heading over to the desk and nearly cackle at what you’re reading. Everybody knows that Bri is full of shit, but there’s no point in calling it out and causing discourse.

You mute the phone to focus on your computer. While humming a quiet tune, you work on moving files to the USB stick plugged into the monitor.

“Fuck,” you whisper, seeing the download time in comparison to the clock on the screen. Of course, you could just leave it be, take the weekend off. It’s not like you get paid extra to run calculations at home.

17 minutes later

“Nonononono, wait, please!” You’re half running to the street as the bus pulls away, leaving you in the illuminated circle of a streetlamp, cursing yourself. That was going to be the last bus coming this way for the night. If you walk home, you’ll never make it in time to change for the party. You might not even make the event at all. You pace up and down the sidewalk, contemplating your options.

A car pulls up beside you, tinted window rolling down, “Need a lift?”

You stop, shocked, “Oh, no I…” you pause, looking through the window, “Dr. Wells, hi...hey.” You swallow your pride. “I would really love to get a ride on-with, with you.” Internally you cringe at how that came out, but figure he probably wouldn’t have heard such a minor slip.

The lock clicks open, and you reach for the door.

“Maple Apartments on South 11th street, right?” Harrison glances at you as you get in the car.

You pause before shutting the door, “do I want to know how you know that?”

He laughs, and you jump a bit at it, “I can see how that would sound a little suspicious.” His smile is reassuring, and his blue eyes are kind behind his glasses. “It was on your registration forms when you started. I enter new employee data myself. Total recall can be useful even for small matters.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, shutting the door and buckling in. “I really appreciate this Dr. Wells, I would have been so late tonight if I didn’t get home to change soon.”

“Bit plans tonight?” Harrison asks as he starts driving. Truth is he had suspected you’d be missing her bus. He had seen you running after the last bus or driven past you walking home numerous times out his way out. You had quite the habit of working until the absolute last moment.

You smile, twiddling your thumbs to keep your hands occupied. “Yeah, I’m meeting a friend at the new bar that opened down the street from my place. She’s getting married soon, and since I can’t make the wedding, I promised I would spend at least a couple hours at her bachelorette party.” You aren’t exactly sure why you’re volunteering this information to your boss. It would be inappropriate to be so casual with him; then again, it’s also inappropriate to be part of a Fanclub that secretly takes pictures of him and talks about how great his ass looks.

Harrison ‘hmms’ in thought. “Why can’t you make it to the wedding?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, taking a moment to take in the way you sit, act, look, before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, they scheduled it for a Wednesday, so,” you look towards him just moments after he looks away. The first thing you notice is his hair; whenever you’ve seen him in the morning, it’s perfectly combed and straight, but it seems like as the day went on, it began to take on a life of its own. While the back is still nice and neat, the front is sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“You could have asked for the day off,” Dr. Wells offers, “Am I such a terrible boss that you think I”d deny you some vacation after all your hard work?”

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks at what seems to be a compliment to her work ethic, “Oh no, I don’t think that at all. It’s just that, well, we have so much work to do. Every day we get a little closer to your dreams of the particle accelerator, and I want to contribute absolutely everything I can to that dream.” You smile. “You’re going to do such incredible things for the world of science Dr. Wells, and I don’t want to waste any time that could be spent helping you.”

The man is somewhat stunned by this. He’d attributed her long hours and determination to personal ambition. “What about you? Do you want history to remember you for your achievements?”

You bite your lower lip in thought at the question, “I mean sure, it would be nice to be recognized for my contribution, but,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m more concerned about how my work will impact the world, not so much if I’m remembered for it. Anyways you’re the true genius. I can tell that STAR Labs will make big changes and put humanity on a path towards the future. As long as I get to be a part of that, it’s all I really need.”

Harrison does a low chuckle at your sentiment, amused by the naivety. You speak with such hope and wonder and admiration. If you knew the truth, how horrified would you be? The realization of the end goal of the particle accelerator, the effects across history that your determination would wreak.

He grins, “Well, I am glad to have such a dedicated employee, but I do believe that one off day is not going to hurt our progress.”

You purse your lips, “You don’t come down to Lab C very often; you’d be surprised how off the rails things can go when I’m not there. Anyways I would rather work than go to a wedding. It’s not my kind of scene.”

He can sense that you are holding something back but doesn’t press the issue any further. He’s reached your apartment building anyways.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be more than happy to give you the time off,” he says as he parks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reach for the door handle, “oh, and thank you so much for the ride. I really owe you one.”

Dr. Wells makes a mental note about cashing in that favor later. “You just stay safe and enjoy yourself tonight.” He smiles warmly at you as you wave goodbye, but when the door shuts, his grin turns a bit darker. He watches you walk away, eyes tracing the curve of your figure, resting on the beautiful shape of your rear, right up until you disappear into your building.

As he begins to drive away, he catches sight of himself in the rearview mirror. There is something about this form of his that seems to drive the ladies crazy, and he wasn’t opposed to taking advantage of that. While pulling back into the street and driving away, he thinks on his situation.

For 13 years now, Eobard Thawne has been trapped in this god-forsaken time period. For a while, he had focused solely on his mission, rarely interacting with others unless it served a greater purpose. But he was still a man, subject to desire. At first, it was almost enough to make him regret allowing Harrison Well’s wife to die, she could have filled his needs easily. But that woman had been intelligent; she’d have discovered his identity eventually, so allowing her to die had been for the best.

Still, after a few years of isolation, Thawne had found the need unbearable and began seeing ways to fill the hole that was forming in his chest. Little flings, one-off nights where he indulged his carnal side, allowed himself the pleasure of another’s body before quickly parting ways with them, when he discovered that a fanclub devoted to him had been formed amongst his employees, that made the whole thing easier.

Joining the group chat under a false name was easy enough. It inflated his ego every time he read them discussing how great they thought he looked, and he was more than happy to provide material for them to gush over. And with that, it was like he had been given a list of women who would fuck him with no questions asked. All he had to do was choose. Of course, he has to be wary of those who might get too clingy or go off telling other people. But it’s not that hard to week those types out of the pack.

Thawne notices magenta neon as he’s driving. A club with a grand opening sign out front. He smiles, knowing that now not only does he have a new prey lure in, but the perfect hunting ground as well.

[lilxberry]

The Guilt Of A Lover - Natasha Romanoff

Synopsis;

You tend to be quite off-put by other women when you’re with the love of your life, even feeling guilty when there truly is no need to for you to feel so. Natasha herself tells you as such.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Jealous Natasha. Oblivious and paranoid reader. Pretty much it tbh.

Words: 2,072

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

_______________

You sat there, admiring your red headed girlfriend as she took down yet another agent in training. You were always in awe of how he body moved when she was up against an opponent. Plus, you had a great view of her ass right now so were as happy as can be during your break from training. 

Natasha looked at you and sent a cheeky, subtle wink towards you. You grinned at her like a fool. She was in every way the perfect woman for you. She’s the woman 

Just as you stood up and took a final gulp of water from your bottle, ending your break, one of the trainees, a young blonde girl, steeping in front of you, blocking your path.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could train with me and help me out with my stance.” Josie-Jessie-Jade, you hadn’t really cared to remember her name, asked as she played with a strand of her hair, twirling it around her slender, manicured finger. A tell-tale sign of flirting which you hadn’t noticed.

But Natasha did.

The girl had been flirting with you non-stop during the training sessions you helped lead. She had always found an issue which you just so happened to be the only one who could fix it. ‘Not like there’s any other superiors she could ask.’ Natasha thought bitterly as she watched on from the corner of her eye.

“Uh-sure. Why don’t you get into position and I’ll see what needs you’re doing wrong.” You instructed the young girl who giggled as she turned to get back on to the matt.

Once there, she plants her feet atop the cool surface, raising her arms out in front of her and bending her knees ever so slightly, sticking her ass further out than nessicary. 

You sighed heavily through your nose as you witness her positioning. ‘How did this girl even get as far as she has with S.H.I.E.L.D..’ You leisurely walked towards her, noting what she should do to make improvements.

“For starters, your knees are bent too much, that can throw you off balance.” You tap her knees until you’re satisfied with the amount they’re straightened. You proceeded to move her feet so they face a more efficient direction. Lastly, you moved to behind her, ready to correct her flimsy, half-arsed positioning of her arms.

“Your arms should be more bent. Bring your elbows towards your body, this will help you protect yourself.” You gripped her elbows with a gentle but firm grip, pulling them back inwards towards her torso. 

As your arms reach around each side of her, she pushes herself back into you, her back being forced to come into contact with your chest. “Like this?” She feigns innocence as she asks in a sickly-sweet voice, puffing her chest out, making them fall into your line of sight. 

You clear your throat and quickly detach yourself from her, making sure you advert your gaze from her eyes as she turns around. “Yeah, just like that. Keep practicing.” With that, you walk out of the training room hastily, leaving Josie-Jess-Jade confused and frustrated.

Natasha notices your quick departure and frowns, concerned about the one she loves. 

She turns her gaze towards the younger girl, a burning anger in her eyes as she stares for a moment. Natasha swore she would find out what was wrong later. 

Oh boy, she sure did. 

_______________

Natasha had yet to see you all day after training had concluded. She could tell something had upset you and had a possible reason as to why you were so quick to exit the room.

Ever since you two had started dating, you had always been mindful and concerned of your girlfriend, putting her before yourself. She knew that you hated the idea of hurting her or betraying her and whenever you thought you had, you would be over cumbered with guilt and then profusely apologize after some time to scold and punish yourself with horrid thoughts.

For as long as Natasha had known you, you had never betrayed her once. The multiple occasions you’ve said you had done so was purely an overreaction on your part. 

--- flashback ---

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look at her. You know I’d never look at anyone else in the way I look at you. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.” You spoke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly, afraid that if you loosened your vice like grip around her waist for a millisecond, she’d leave in an instant. You’re breathing was erratic, clearly panicking about whether she’ll leave you ‘cause of your ‘slip up’.

“Y/N, seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Natasha soothed into your ear, stroking your hair gently. “Just because you happened to look up from your phone the same time as that girl bent down, it doesn’t mean you messed up. It’s not like you were actively looking at her tits baby.” She cooed, trying to add humour into the situation but you clearly felt just as guilty as you did before.

“Babe, the fact that you looked away instantly just shows you not only have respect for me and our relationship, but to other women as well is one of the reasons I love you but please stop feeling guilty for something that’s not worth it.” Natasha continued.

You planted a small kiss upon Natasha’s shoulder before fully raising your head to look down at your girlfriend. “I love you.” You spoke quietly, afraid what would happen if your voice raised even a decibel higher.

Natasha looked into your eyes, still seeing the guilt you hold behind them and sighed. “I love you too, Y/N. Now, how about we finally head down to the living room for movie night?” She smiled as a small smile had broken on to your face also.

“Sure.” You grabbed her hand, interlocking your fingers with her before leaving your shared bedroom and heading to the elevator, ready to wrap your arms around your girlfriend on the couch whilst you and the rest of the Avengers watch Short Circuit.

--- end of flashback ---

Natasha has always loved your honestly and dislike towards disloyalty within relationships but sometimes, she felt as though you sometimes overreacted when someone flirts with you. 

She hates how you beat yourself up when you feel guilty about something you couldn’t have done anything about in a situation you were thrown into unwillingly.

As she walked along the hallways of the compound, she noted Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint further up in the direction she was headed towards talking. Once Natasha got closer to the quartet of men, she asked of your whereabouts. 

“Last I heard, she was down in the lab, sitting quietly with Bruce and Tony.” Clint had answered his friend. The other three men nodded in agreement.

Natasha smiled in thanks before making her way towards the main lab that usually occupies Tony, Bruce and yourself.

finally reaching the lab, she was about to open the door when she heard the voices of the three of you talking clearly.

“I still feel bad, man. Whether something was on accident or not shouldn’t be an excuse for that.” You said in a solemn, guilt-ridden tone. “What makes you think she’ll say yes to marrying me if I’m constantly looking at other people!”

Natasha’s breath hitches at the mention of marriage. You wanted to marry her. A huge grin made its way on to her face, cheeks nearly splitting at how far her lips had upturned. The rest of your conversation was all but muted to her as she thought of being your wife.

Before the three could continue with their conversation, Natasha had opened the door and alerted you and the science bros of her entrance. She smiled widely towards you whilst you looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming truck. She paced quickly towards you then surged forward to connect her lips to yours.

Your eyes had widen in shock before quickly closing as you melted into the kiss, responding to the affection with just as much emotion. You held on to her hips with a feather-like touch, as if afraid she’ll break whilst her arms snake their way around your neck, pulling you deeper into her kiss. 

Before either of your lungs could collapse in on their selves from lack of oxygen, you broke apart. She grinned up at you as you looked down at her with a dazed expression embedded into your features. You hadn’t even noticed the pair of scientists leave their lab to give you two some much needed alone time.

“So, you wanna marry me, huh?” Natasha whispered in a playful tone. The blissful and content expression was quickly wiped off of your face as she said that and was quickly replaced with a deep red blush and a look of embarrassment at the fact that you had been caught red handed.

“I-uh-I,yeah, I uh-I’ve been meaning to ask you for a month now but I guessed it was never the right time.” You chuckled and smiled sheepishly down at your girlfriend.

“Or is it because whenever you plan to ask, you “mess up” and have to apologize.” Natasha had added air quotes around mess up as she truly believed that you have never done so once. Obviously, you’d beg to differ.

You looked down guiltily, scared to look the red head in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up again. She asked for my help and then I just kinda saw them. I’m so sorry. I get if you want to bre-”

You were cut off by Natasha gently pressing her soft lips to yours, them moulding together perfectly. She pulled away just as quickly as she had initiated the kiss and leaned her forehead on yours. “Ask me.” She whispers, eyes searching your own for something neither of you knew truly what for.

“What?”

“Ask me. That is, if you still wan to marry me.”

Realisation quickly crossed your features. It was almost comical how your eyes had widened and your mouth drop open into an ‘O’ as you frantically search your pockets for the velvety box.

Soon enough, you found the cuboid container and grasped it into your hand as you retracted it from your pocket in a tight grip. You dropped down on to one knee and cleared your throat at least 20 times before you attempted to speak. 

“Natasha,” The clearing of your throat had apparently not mattered as your voice had still broken into a higher pitch when you spoke her name. Quickly clearing your throat of the dry lump, you attempted your proposal once again. “Natasha, will you marry me? I did have a whole speech about two papers long but I forgot it, sorry.” Your sheepish smile barely concealed your nervousness as you waited for an answer.

“Yes, Y/N, yes I will marry you.” Natasha spoke as she nodded vigorously. You were stunned for a moment before speedily recomposing yourself and pulled the ring from the box to place upon your now fiancé’s finger. 

After you slipped the simple yet elegantly beautiful ring upon her slender, pale finger, she tugged you up with a huge burst of strength before once again plummeting her lips on to yours, kissing you feverishly, conveying both of your love for each other.

The kiss was soon broke and both your eyes had opened to reveal each others beaming smiles towards their loved one. “I think we should tell the others.” Natasha suggested.

“We already know. congratulations. Now, don’t fuck in my lab.” Tony spoke, soon followed by a scalding from Bruce and congratulations from the rest of the Avengers.

“Maybe we should do Banner and Stark a favour and keep their lab sanitary.” You chucked as you spoke. “There are a million places more comfortable that a lab for those kind of activities.”

“Well then, lead the way.” Natasha spoke with a hint of playfulness.

You smirked and grabbed the back of her thighs, signifying her to jump, which she did so gracefully, wrapping her legs around your torso and your hands move to hold her up by her ass. “Yes ma’am.”

And with that, you left with your fiancé to consummate your engagement with the love of your life, leaving behind the guilt of a non-existent issue.

_______________

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Yo I am in love with every female marvel character I swear

My first Natasha fic which I really enjoyed writing

I hope you enjoy

And as always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[soulmate-game]

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,” Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don’t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

in the dark !!!

word count— 1.1 k

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

(Sorry if this looks funky I’m on mobile)

***

If you could think of three words to describe Spencer, they would be nervous, smart and careful. Oh, so careful. Everything that Spencer does is with an abundance of caution and care. He’s gentle and sensitive and is probably the most emotionally mature man you know.

Which is why you feel bad for being upset that he hasn’t tried to kiss you yet. You’ve made a deal with yourself, let Spencer take the lead. Not for some patriarchal bullshit says the man has to be the one to take the lead. No, none of that. You decided, with yourself, that letting Spencer be the one to make the first move would give him the less likely chance of him running away. It’s not that you’re terrifying or intimidating. It’s like you said, Spencer is nothing, but a careful man.

So it’s not entirely your fault when you sit there in the dark, so close to Spencer that you can feel his bony hip on your ribcage. He’s arms are wrapped around you, holding you so close that you smell the essential oils he wears as cologne. You wear them too, switching the grapefruit and bergamot oils that didn’t give Spencer headache like perfumes did. His breathing is labored, yet steady. He’s a constant fixture in your life, and you desperately want to show him how much he matters to you, how much you adore him.

The only light comes from the very old television that sits tucked away in Spencer’s living room. The screen flashes in combinations of grays, whites, and blacks. You couldn’t say exactly what was happening in the show, you’re too caught up in the pressure of Spencer’s hands against your upper arm and his breathing on your neck. He’s never been this close to you before, and you’ll be damned if you never get to feel loved like this again.

“Enjoying the show?” you ask, attempting to regain your focus on it as well.

“It’s good—interesting,” Spencer says, his answer uncharacteristically short, “I honestly couldn’t tell you the name of the main character. I guess it’s a little hard to concentrate,” he explains, bravely nuzzling his head into your neck.

Your heart stops. Literally, actually, figuratively stops. Spencer seems to have that effect on you with his soft cardigans, soft hands and even softer soul.

“Why,” you venture, hoping that all those tacky romance novels weren’t just read in vain, “tell me goose,” you say, hearing Spencer groan at the name

“Because, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Spencer professes, sounding breathless and terrified.

“Really, goose,” you say, unsure if you’ll ever be able to call him anything but a sweet pet name again, “I’m ready when you are. There’s no rush. I’ll wait forever for you,” you tell him, gently rubbing your hand against his arm to pacify the nervousness that seems to radiate off his body.

“Kissing is so strange,” Spencer starts, getting into the tone of voice that tells you he’s preparing for an infodump, “well according to Scientific American, in the 1960s, British zoologist Desmond Morris speculated that kissing evolved from behavior exhibited by monkeys. Primate mothers would chew food for their young and then feed them, mouth-to-mouth and with their lips puckered. Scientists believe that this later developed into a way to comfort hungry children, and then eventually to show love and affection. Through evolution, kissing evolved, too” Spencer tells you, getting quiet after he finishes. Perhaps waiting for you to kiss him or tell him a fact of your own.

“Well, love,” you start, propping yourself on your elbow, “if kissing is science, don’t all good scientists carry out experiments?”

“Yes, Y/N, Spencer says” licking his lips absentmindedly, making you love him even more, “that’s true,”

“So, tell me Dr. Reid, are you a good scientist?” you ask him, “Will you let me help you with this experiment?” you ask, your lips hovering above his, waiting for his okay to lock your lips to his forever.

“Yes,” Spencer says, like it’s the scariest thing he’s ever done, but the moment he’s been waiting for all his life.

And with that you lean in, finally kissing Spencer. It’s beautiful, yet messy. You always knew that he’s lips would be soft and plush. He’s constantly licking them, like he’s asking for you to do nothing all day, but kiss him. He silently accepts your mouth, and encourages your affection with whimpers and moans.

His lips part from yours, and he uses that moment to look deep into your eyes, searching for something. You want to call out and tell him that what he could find is your soul. You want to tell him to take it, it’s been his for a long time already, but before the words can leave your lips, his mouth is on you again.

You’re lucky your boyfriend is a genius, he picks up on things quickly and kissing you is no exception. Your hands are in his hair, feeling his soft curls in between your fingers. It’s soft and tickles your palms. He’s cupping your face, like you’re a delicate piece of glass. You find this funny, because between the two of you, Spencer is the precious thing.

Kissing him is soft and slow, languid and passionate. You can forget your name doing it and not care to ever remember it. You encourage him, taking a break from his lips to leave wet kisses along his collarbone and jawline. It’s a crime to not kiss him there, he’s too beautiful for his own good.

Finally, you rest your forehead against Spencer’s, breathing him in, drinking him in, savoring the moment. The television flickers, long forgotten, but neither of your care. All that matters in that moment is Spencer’s lips that explore the canvas of your neck, begging you let him love you.

[thewritingbasil]

First time writing and publishing something like this! I hope you enjoy!

Chrome x modern!Reader

* When you find out Chrome goes out to explore on his own and lives outside the village, you worry about who will notice if something goes wrong. Since you’re curious and also love discovering things and can’t sit still in the village for a long time, you tell Chrome about the modern-day buddy-system idea and start joining him on his expeditions.

* He’d love to take you exploring and show all the exciting things he discovered! He’s never had an exploring buddy before, and while Senkuu does appreciate what he finds, Senkuu spends more of his time creating blueprints and solving problems in the lab and using what he has available, not looking for things that will maybe be helpful in the future. That’s why he trusts Chrome and, now, you to have an eye for materials that will help the Kingdom of Science grow

* At first Chrome has a lot to teach you, like how to notice materials, where to walk, and how to keep track of time and your location especially since you need to get used to not having a cell phone.

* But eventually you become a great explorer in your own right and he has a lot of trust in you as his partner. In fact, he ends up trusting you a lot when the buddy system helps out, like when he once experienced a small cave-in or when he needed emergency first aid.

* You also find things he overlooked because you both tend to look in different directions when you’re searching.

* He loves that someone else shares his love of exploring with him. When he used to search alone, it was very isolating and he could get lost in his head while walking. Now, you remind him about food and he’s willing to take slightly greater risks when trying to reach somewhere because he’s got you as an extra pair of hands and eyes and brain.

* The combined haul is also bigger, which he gets super excited about. You both chatter to each other and compare stashes when you’re organizing what you found into different baskets at the end of the day.

* When Senku compliments you both on the materials found, Chrome proudly grins at you.

* Chrome isn’t just an explorer though, he’s a scientist which means he can’t spend all his time exploring with you. He goes to work with Senkuu while you help out elsewhere because, buddy system! You’re not going on your own.

* If you’re also working in another group like crafts or the power group, you go for a period of time without seeing him because you’re working on different projects.

* However! During your trips, you both became used to showing each other your finds and communicating when working in different sections to know how each other is doing

* He also appreciated the conversations you would bring about the modern world and about yourself, and how you were eager to learn about himself and his village. So he gets used to that routine of you being there to converse with.

* Chrome ends up talking with you during breaks about what the each of you are doing and exciting progress reports and how the materials you found are being put to use. Both of you get excited learning that something you’ve found has a cool scientific purpose/property and you invite each other to stop by and watch it in action.

* He loves seeing your eyes light up in amazement as you watch and praise his work.

* When you show him your group’s work, it’s not as science-y but he acknowledges your skill and hard work and he is also a craftsman and not too strong so whether you’re in the crafting group or power group, you still impress him. He’s not shy about praising you and gives you high fives or says “Baaaad!” This also helps him get along with other people in your group since he and they don’t usually interact.

* Obviously, Chrome would take a long time to realize that he’s fallen in love with you. He’s known Ruri for over 3 years and he still hasn’t figured it out.

* But others start noticing that he goes out of his way to get you to show off something. They’d understand if the project was finished, but when it’s a work in progress, it’s not very impressive to show. But you love it every single time because you’re curious and actually enjoy seeing everything put together little by little. Then, when the project is done, you can visualize the components and hard work that was put in to create it.

* And the villagers watch how he gets more talkative when you show interest and ask questions. He brings up inventions from the modern era that you’ve told him about so you both seem to share a mysterious language that they can’t understand. Some of them start shipping you two long before he notices anything.

* During mealtimes, you sometimes eat together. You talk about your next scavenging trip, new places in the village you haven’t explored, new projects, so many things. You both can get pretty sucked in to your conversations, forgetting the food. However you’re usually the one who finally remembers that you’re eating, and you teasingly shove food in his mouth. Your cheeky grin has blood rushing into his face and he is dazed, until he shakes himself out of it and starts to eat again.

* People are watching and nudging each other.

* Soon, Chrome becomes aware of you in a way he hasn’t before. He can’t help but smile every time you make eye contact. He craves the casual way you touch him and makes sure to be within your arms’ reach so you’re more likely to nudge him or grab him to drag him off somewhere in your excitement.

* When you first met him with Senku and Kohaku, you learned that he liked Ruri and never questioned it since. Whenever he talked about her, you could tell she was special to him. You made teasing jokes like forging a hairpin from iron and giving it to her with the line of “the burning fire in my heart for you was so hot I melted the iron with it” and he got flustered and groaned over the dumb line

* Recently, when you made those types of jokes, he felt conflicted. Part of him still got flustered but when he looked at you grinning and thinking you were oh so clever, he started to wonder why you would act like he liked Ruri when, thinking about it, he liked you...wait what?? He didn’t like you!

* Sure he thought you were cool and fun to hang out with and capable but that’s just something he admires and that’s a good friend, right?

* Right, he thought, shaking his head. You were a trusted partner, he didn’t want to kiss you or anything...

* “What?” You looked over your shoulder at him. “You got quiet over there.” You two were spending the late afternoon before dinner organizing your haul and you had just said that the location today was so beautiful Chrome should show it to Ruri once Senku cured her.

* He stared at your slightly parted lips. Did he want to kiss them? He was a man of science. When he collected rocks and plants, he’d grind, combine, set on fire, and experiment to find out how they reacted. Your mouth was kind of pretty, and yeah maybe he did want to see if kissing you was enjoyable.

* Chrome’s hands stopped working and now he was looking at you with unfocused eyes and a furrowed brow. You paused in your sorting and turned fully towards him. “You got a look on your face. Whatcha thinking about?”

* He is totally used to telling you his ideas so without hesitation, he answers before thinking, “What kissing you would feel like.” Then, he realized what he said. “Noooo! Sorry, that’s creepy right?” He zoomed backwards away from you, almost crashing into a table. How could he say that to you, you were one of his best friends!

* “Uhhh...” Chrome closed his eyes and braved himself for a rejection, ready to be kicked out of his hut for the next hour. “It’s not that creepy, I guess?” He heard you say. Were his ears working properly? He cracked an eye open to peek at you. You grinned awkwardly at him, having one side of your mouth quirked up.

* “Science inquiry, right? Question everything.”

* Maybe it was the afternoon sun or him imagining things, but your face looked a little pink. Kind of tempting. Whoa, did he really like you?

* “I need to figure something out.” He looked at you intensely.

* “Let me in on it, I wanna know.” Before, you had been avoiding eye contact out of shyness but now your eyes looked into his, drawing him closer. His footsteps seemed to be drowned out by the drums in his chest. He was getting nervous.

* He stopped a little ways in front of you. Being so close to you was almost making him lose his nerves. Kissing you? That seemed impossible.

* “Come on, Chrome.” You entwined both of your hands with his and pulled him closer until you were sharing the same air.

* You closed your eyes and patiently waited. Still with his heart beating in his ears, he looked at your long lashes, your eyebrows arched expectantly, and your flushed cheeks.

* You were getting nervous standing there and you bet your hands were all sweaty now. “Did you change your mind?” You did tend to grab him and drag him places. This was something he should be able to choose without being pressured. You started to loosen your hands, and he ripped his hands away.

* Before you could get disappointed, you felt those hands suddenly on the sides of your face and your lips met something soft.

* He was kissing you.

* Despite the sudden kiss, he knew enough to not just smash your lips together. It was much more of a firm press, one that had you craving for more even as butterflies exploded in your stomach and fire rushed over your skin. But you didn’t want to push it. You simply adjusted your lips to overlap better onto his and put your hands on his hips to hold him close.

* After a few seconds, Chrome leaned back with an entirely red face. “Baaaddddd,” he breathed. That had been enlightening. And soft. And pleasurable. Okay yeah, you weren’t just a best friend anymore. If it meant you would look at him like this, wide-eyed and giddy and hungry for more, he wanted to keep kissing you.

* Your hands squeezed his hips nervously, fingers a fluttering pressure on his flesh. “Practice for Ruri?” You asked in the small distance between your mouth and his.

* “Not Ruri,” he said distractedly. His eyes were still dazed and drinking in the tempting picture you made. “I want to kiss you.”

* And your mouth curled up into a pleased grin, looking hard to resist. So he didn’t.

[hermannsthumb]

"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.

so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?

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Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.

Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”

“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”

“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”

“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."

Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”

“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”

“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”

“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”

Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”

“Excuse me?”

Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”

At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”

“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”

Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.

He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”

“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could ­call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)

This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.

“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”

“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.

“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.

Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.

“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”

Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.

“Believing what?” Newton says.

“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.

To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”

“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.

He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.

“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”

He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”

At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”

Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.

“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.

“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”

Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”

“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.

“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”

When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.