#gotta be honest with you guys i have no idea what tags the cool kids use for fashion selfies on this site
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gazes (joaquín torres x reader)
SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.
WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716
WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied
A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.
The kid had no tact.
Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.
Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.
"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."
Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.
"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.
"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.
"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."
"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."
Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.
When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."
"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.
Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"
"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."
"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."
"He's staring at your ass again."
"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.
"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."
"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."
"He's definitely focused in...on--"
"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.
You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.
The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.
Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.
"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."
"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."
Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.
"You're an asshole."
"I'm right."
"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"
"So you know I'm right."
You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."
You were running early.
Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.
One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.
And that's where the luck stopped.
Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.
You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.
It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.
And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--
"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"
It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.
But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.
You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.
"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."
You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.
He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."
"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."
"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.
"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.
My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.
But never on Joaquin.
You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"
"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.
"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.
"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.
Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."
Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.
"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."
"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."
"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.
You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.
"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.
He was nothing if not predictable.
The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.
"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.
"So, what'd I interrupt?"
Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"
"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"
Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.
"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.
"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.
"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"
"Nah, it didn't feel right."
"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.
The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.
Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.
"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.
"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.
"I'll buy," he said.
Mothefucker.
This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.
"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.
"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.
"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."
He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."
"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."
Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"
"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.
Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.
Which was a first.
More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.
"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.
"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.
"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."
"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"
"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.
Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."
"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.
"If you can."
They did.
You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.
Until the music kicked up.
Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.
Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.
And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.
You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.
"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.
"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."
"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.
He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.
"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.
"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.
"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.
It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.
The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.
"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.
"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.
You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.
Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.
"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.
"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.
As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.
"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.
"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.
"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"
"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.
"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."
Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.
#joaquin torres x reader#joaquín torres x reader#torres x reader#joaquín torres#joaquin torres#torres x y/n#joaquin torres x you#joaquín torres x you#joaquín torres x y/n#torres x you#joaquin torres x y/n#fatws fic#tfatws fic#joaquin torres fic#joaquín torres fic#torres fic#marvel fic
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Bouquet
Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)
Warnings: None
Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: Having come clean about being single for a very long time now and considering herself completely out of the dating scene, Y/N’s confession is taken and responded to with a ton of kindness, especially from a special someone...
Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was such a joy to write! I’m so sorry for the long wait you had to go through but the fic is finally here and I hope you enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤
I roll out of bed with little to no desire to start my day. We haven’t got a scheduled stream for today and the clouds glooming in the sky seem to be promising rain so really what do I have to get up for except that it’s a rule society installed?
Just kidding, I’m basically stalling and that’s all.
So what happened was the streamer gang and I were playing Among Us last night and our conversation during the pause between rounds somehow swerved into relationship territory. I stayed quiet the majority of if not all the time because I had no valid input to offer.
If you know me you know I’m not one of the performers on the dating scene. I have never really confirmed it with my fans - well, until last night, that is - but I bet they have picked up on that fact considering I’ve been on YouTube for around a decade and have never had a partner. That being said, I’d have to also mention that I have in fact dated but someone but it was before my YouTube era started. Me choosing this career path, which back then was just a hobby, had nothing to do with the relationship ending but it still motivated me to not to actively look for a relationship while I’m still focused on my career. It’s too much work, too much stress and requires a lot of balance I most certainly either don’t have or I don’t have the energy to put in balancing my romantic and professional lives. Luckily, no one’s ever pressured me into finding a significant other, not yet at least, so no societal pressure for me!
But I gotta admit I felt real awkward admitting all this last night.
“Hey Y/N what do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet?“ Rae asks, causing me to jolt in my seat from where I’ve been reading my chat for the past five minutes, my mic muted.
I quickly unmute to reply, blushing ever so slightly, “Um, sorry I was reading my chat. What do I think about what?”
“The gesture of giving flowers to your significant other, is it romantic or a waste of money and plant murder?“ Rae explains, still managing to catch me off-guard with her question.
I ponder what my response should be for a little bit before deciding to level it to a neutral level where I almost sound indifferent, “It is in fact plant murder basically and artificial flowers would definitely be a better gift - plus they’ll last longer.”
“Mhmm yeah that’s true.“ Poki agrees with me, “But there’s still the question of whether it’s a romantic gesture or not. I personally don’t think it’s overrated or cheesy, I actually quite like it. What about you, Y/N?“
And now she’s got me in a real trap that I can’t wiggle out of without speaking my truth. I don’t know where this sudden anxiety around the subject came from but it now resides within me rent free and makes me feel self-conscious and embarrassed of the confession I’m inevitably make.
“Um, I wouldn’t know for certain, I’ve never received flowers myself...“ I say sheepishly, cringing at the sound of my own voice, “It’s not like I’ve dated plenty of people and the one guy I did date wasn’t really romantic or anything, I mean - we were teenagers, after all. But when I think about it in theory I think I’d like the gesture: it’s thoughtful, plus you get a temporary but beautiful piece of décor out of it.“
I’m gonna hope I didn’t sound too pitiful or desperate. Of course I’m not gonna check afterward on the stream cause I’d rather live in the illusion of having sounded humorous rather than be given the confirmation that I didn’t.
“Wait, wait, wait, did you date your last boyfriend like a decade ago?“ Corpse is now the one talking and that makes me feel even more anxious. This is not the impression one would want to give to their crush, is it? Oh well, no turning back now.
“Correct.“ I reply with a laugh that I hope didn’t sound as nervous as it was.
“And you’ve never, like in your whole life, received flowers from someone?“ He sounds astonished which sort of makes me want to shrink up in my shell like a turtle. Too bad I don’t have a shell though. I’m genuinely thinking of the option to rip the router out of the outlet right now to save me the troubles but I’m not that immature. I’m surprised I’m even reacting this way - this topic doesn’t usually bother me at all but now for some reason I’m red as a tomato and shrinking in my chair.
I know what the obvious answer is but I’d rather die than admit to it.
“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bad but I really don’t care.“ I make an attempt at changing the subject, swerving it back to the main topic rather than my lack of a love life, “I do, in fact, find the gesture sweet - it adds vibrancy to the relationship just like the flowers would add vibrancy and color to the space they’re put in.“
“Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool analogy!“ Rae gushes, “You’re totally right, it might be an old trick, but it’s aged like fine wine.“
Phew, God bless you Rae.
“Exactly, exactly.“ Corpse agrees as well but I don’t think he’s fully heard what Rae said since he sounds to have fallen in deep thought.
At least I got away with it with only making a SLIGHT nervous wreck of myself.
Yikes, was that horrible, though I don’t people will remember it for long. Sure, my fans have sent me thousands of lovely messages and pictures of bouquets and will maybe continue sending them for another day or two - which I highly appreciate, don’t get me wrong. I’m severely touched by this gesture of theirs and it almost makes me glad I finally ‘came clean’ about my romance-less life - however, it’ll fade overtime. I mean, who the heck cares if I’m single or not?
As I pour the milk over my cheerios which I’ve been snacking on dry for the past half hour as I rifled through the many notifications clogging up my lock screen, I hear the doorbell ring. I’m understandably puzzled by this, seeing as how I never get visitors so that doorbell rings only when I’ve ordered something, be it takeout or a random item off Amazon. However, I can’t remember ordering anything, at least not anything that should be arriving at the moment or even anytime soon - that glow-in-the dark curtain isn’t supposed to arrive until next week.
I make my way to the door, unbothered by the fact I’m still in my pajamas, and take a look through the peephole.
It’s a delivery guy...and he happens to be holding a huge-ass bouquet.
“What the...“ I mutter to myself as I unlock and swing open the door in the blink of an eye, “Hi?“
“Hi there, are you Y/N L/N?“ The delivery guy, who I’ve seen many times before and who I’m on pretty friendly terms with, asks me jokingly, sending a wink my way.
“I sure am.“ I reply, my gaze fixated on the breathtaking flowers he’s holding, “But those can’t be for me, that’s for sure.“
He fishes looks at his clipboard one more time, nodding before he looks back at me, “I double and triple checked, Y/N, they’re for you. Here, have a look if you don’t believe me.” He turns the clipboard for me to see and he is actually telling the truth. I mean, I doubt he’d have any reason to lie to me but mix-ups happen all the time.
“Um, ok thanks. Sorry for the halt, it’s just...I’d hate to be the recipient of the flowers meant for another girl.” I apologize as I take the bouquet for him, still in awe of the fact I’m the one it was made and meant for and sent to.
I say a quick ‘bye’ to the delivery guy before practically running inside to inspect this bouquet for a card from the sender. I have my guesses: it has to be someone who was present during the stream last night and someone who knows my address. Hopefully it’s someone from my friend group and not a fan who watched the stream and just happens to know my address. I’d still appreciate the gesture, but I’d also install security cameras if that was the case.
Something about the color scheme of the flowers - pink and black - gives me Rae vibes since she constantly teases me about my aesthetics contradicting each other. But then again, Poki does it too so it could be her as well....
Oh...OH GOD IT’S NEITHER OF THEM
~ ~ ~
I’ve been sitting here, keeping myself a safe distance from my phone so I’m not the first one to send her a text. So I don’t ask if she got what I sent her. So I don’t ask what she thought of it, how the bouquet looks in her living room, how it smells, how it makes her feel. I have so many questions so that phone is best off at a major distance from me. I’m the one who’s better off with such a huge distance between me and the device, to be perfectly honest.
Was it a bad idea? Should I have slept on it - or just thought about it longer cause sleep and I don’t get along? Should I have at least waited a day or two? Should I-
My phone vibrates with a notification and I practically fly to it from across the room, grabbing it and unlocking it asap. My heart sinks and takes off like a rocket simultaneously when I see I’ve been tagged in Y/N’s Instagram story.
I nervously tap the notification that sends me to the picture of the bouquet I sent her with some text written over it.
“Thank you, Romeo ;)“
Somehow that one sentence answers all those aforementioned questions.
Is this what people refer to as butterflies in one’s stomach? Cause it feels significantly more like a crush...oh wait.
@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari @renupf @booklover76
#corpse husband#corpse husband fanfic#corpse#corpse fanfic#corpse fic#corpse fluff#corpse fanfiction#corpse fandom#corpse x reader#corpse x you#corpse x y/n#corpse imagines#corpse imagine#corpse husband x y/n#corpse husband fanficiton#corpse husband x reader#corpse husband fanfiction#corpse husband fluff#corpse husband fic#corpse husband imagine#corpse husband is ruining my life#corpse simp#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#fandom#fluff#fan#request#requests open
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"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*
So this is interesting:
So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.
So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.
So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.
Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.
Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".
I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.
Tag List
@madamsnape921
@lolliepopsicle
@chasingeverybreakingwave
@milkshqke
@wanniiieeee
@word-scribbless
@gibbs274
@sassyada
@aprildecker-blog
@bookishfanfic
@stars-in-the-skies-world
@stars-trash-18
@omgsuperstarg
@objection-argumentative
And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!
You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.
You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.
You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.
You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.
"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.
“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!
“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.
You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.
“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”
You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.
“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.
“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.
Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.
“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.
“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.
“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.
“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.
“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.
“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”
If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.
“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.
“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.
“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.
“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.
“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.
“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.
“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.
“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”
You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”
“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.
“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.
“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.
“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.
“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!
He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.
“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.
Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.
Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.
“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.
“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.
“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….
--------------
By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.
But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.
“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.
“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?
“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.
“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?
“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.
“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.
“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.
“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.
Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.
“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”
“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?
“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.
His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”
“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.
“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?
“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”
“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?
Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.
“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.
“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.
“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”
“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.
Dammit. Why...why would you do this?
“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.
“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.
Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.
-----------------
“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”
“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.
“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.
“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.
“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.
“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.
“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”
“Excuse me?”
“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.
“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”
“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.
Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.
“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.
He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.
“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.
“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.
“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.
“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.
“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.
“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.
“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.
You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.
“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.
“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.
Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--
*BEEP*
Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:
BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?
You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.
You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:
Sire ;)
“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.
Sure***
Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:
BHOLE BARBA: Play
Play? What did that--
BHOLE: Okay** ;)
You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.
He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.
This work day could not end fast enough.
#rafael barba#rafael barba x you#rafael barba x reader#rafael barba fanficton#law and order svu#law and order svu fanfiction#not my yacht#raul esparza
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An Intern’s Ordeal
Summary: Peter gets invited to the Annual Stark Charity Gala, only he thinks he's attending as an intern and panics because he doesn't even know how to make coffee so how can he manage an actual event. Throw in a stab wound, some fractured ribs, a healthy dose of self-deprecation and a case of mistaken identity, and Tony realises that Peter really doesn't understand how much he means to him.
Rated T | Irondad | Completed | 10k
AN: i hope you all enjoy, i’ll add the link to read on ao3 in a reblog if you guys prefer that!! tw for injuries and blood, stay safe my lovelies and the tag list is at the end!
“You know,” Peter commented idly as he set down the wrench Mr. Stark had handed him on the table, “when you said you wanted me to come over and help out in the workshop, this wasn't exactly what I thought you’d have planned.”
“No?” Mr. Stark wondered as he held out a hand for the weird caps Peter was still tightly gripping after being warned not to lose them, “what did you think we were going to do?”
“I don’t know, really,” Peter shrugged dismissively, “but I kinda thought it would be something to do with Spider-Man.”
“Spider-Man?” Mr. Stark spoke as though he had forgotten who Spider-Man was, as though he wasn't sitting in the same room as him, before cursing slightly under his breath and dropping one of the caps.
“Yeah, you know? The red and blue guy who swings over the city on webs that he made himself because he’s so totally cool and smart.”
“I know who Spider-Man is, kid,” Mr. Stark said rolling his eyes at Peter, “can you grab that wrench again? Then get down here, it’s your turn to do a bit of work.”
“Well, I’m just saying you sounded a bit confused,” Peter said as he jumped off his stool and crouched by the engine on the floor, the smell of motor oil and grease making his head spin a little, he blamed his enhanced sense of smell for that as he other man didn't seem to be affected by it.
“Not about Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark corrected him, before frowning and giving Peter a serious look, “Pete, do you think I only keep you around because of your abilities?”
“Uh,” Peter faltered, unable to find the words to explain how he did think that but not in a way that made Mr. Stark seem like a bad guy, just in a way that proved Peter wasn't any more special than the next intern who passed through the halls of Stark Industries.
A look of understanding seemed to cross Mr. Stark’s face and before Peter could even open his mouth he continued to speak, “hey, actually, how would you feel about coming to this charity Gala on Saturday?”
“Wh- wait, what?”
That… had been the last thing Peter expected Mr. Stark to say, why would he invite him to a Gala? Didn't he realise that Peter was probably the last person in the world who should be invited to a fancy event - in fact, he wasn't entirely sure he owned a suit, would that be an issue? Maybe he could borrow that one of Ben’s he wore to Homecoming.
“Charity Gala,” Mr. Stark repeated, “it's a big event with suits, ties, dresses, and champagne; lots and lots of champagne, not that you’re allowed to drink that, but as Stark Industries is the organiser of the even then I can make sure we have plenty of soda. So, what’s your favourite: Coke, Pepsi, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Fanta…”
“Uh, I don't- I don't know,” Peter stammered, “just whatever you want is fine with me.”
“Come on, Kiddo, I want to make this enjoyable for my favourite intern, so what’s your drink of choice?”
“Uh, Dr Pepper, maybe?” Peter said unsurely.
“You got it,” Mr. Stark said, “now come on, get your head in the game, we need to rebuild this engine.”
“Why are we doing this?” Peter wondered, still feeling slightly confused by the conversation that had just occurred, he felt like there was a deeper meaning to it.
“By the time I was your age, I’d lost count of the number of engines I’d rebuilt, this is a young genius’ rite of passage.”
I’m not a genius, Peter thought to himself but instead of voicing the thought aloud, he focused his attention on the task at hand. Or, he tried to, at least, the truth was that he was slightly caught up on Mr. Stark’s comment about wanting his favourite intern at the Charity Gala.
Was that his way of saying that he wasn't keeping Peter around because of his Spider-Man abilities, but rather because of his status as a Stark Industries intern? But that couldn't be right, Peter wasn't even a good intern - he usually just fiddled around in the workshop and tried to improve his Spider-Man equipment before attempting to eat Mr. Stark out of house and home. So, why wouldn't he take a better intern to the Gala? And what exactly would be expected of Peter on Saturday?
“Kid?” Mr. Stark poked Peter’s arm making him jump in shock and his head snapped to the side to see his mentor staring at him with a slightly concerned expression, “you good? You’re off in your own world tonight, I’m starting to get a little worried and you know me; I don’t like to be worried, I like to be blase in most situations.”
“I’m yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” Peter lied, “I was just thinking about this US History project I’ve got to hand in soon.”
“History?” Mr. Stark muttered, screwing up his nose in disgust, “you go to a STEM school, right? Shouldn't they be focusing on the sciences more than history?”
“Well, you know how it is,” Peter muttered with a shrug, “those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it, and I suppose they have to give us a rounded education.”
Mr. Stark cast him a dubious glance, “you sure that’s the saying, Bud?”
“Well, it’s close, I think,” Peter mumbled, “anyways, I like history, I don't think it’s something I’ll pursue as a career but the class is interesting enough.”
“A career?” Mr. Stark asked jerking back in shock, “in history?”
“Not for me,” Peter repeated, “I don’t know, I’ll probably go into research or scientific development or something, I haven't thought about it in too much detail, to be honest.”
“You haven't- Kid, what? You should absolutely be thinking about this,” Mr. Stark said, “I know I’ve mentioned this before but I do have some pull at MIT. In fact, I have some pull at almost every college out there, you name it and I could probably get you in. What can I say? People love me.”
“I just don't want to make a life-changing decision at fifteen,” Peter muttered, “I know I’m going to have to soon, but do you know how much people change and grow? I asked May and she said she’s nothing like the person she was as a teenager, so if that’s going to be the same for me, how do I know that I’ll choose the right career at this point in my life, I’d rather take the time and make that decision.”
“Alright,” Mr. Stark said, “as much as I’d love to put you through college and have you working full time at Stark Industries, I can understand why you feel that way and it’s quite a mature observation - even though I hate it.”
“You’d want me working here?” Peter asked with wide eyes.
“Of course, you’re my favourite intern after all,” Mr. Stark said with what Peter was sure was meant to be a teasing grin, but all he could think about was the swooping in his stomach as those words were repeated. ‘Favorite intern’ was that Mr. Stark’s way of saying he was going to have to act like an intern at the Charity Gala?
He instantly began to feel nauseous, Mr. Stark was dropping hints about the intern thing which meant that he was absolutely expecting Peter to be on the ball at the Gala and he was only used to messing around in the lab. In fact, Peter was fairly sure that he’d never done anything intern-like; Mr. Stark had once asked Peter to turn on the coffee machine and Peter had merely shrugged, shoved a handful of sour patch kids in his mouth, and admitted that he had no idea how to make coffee.
So really, Peter had never done an intern’s job, he was going into this completely blind.
“Peter?” Mr. Stark prompted, “are you alright? Was that too much?”
“I’m fine,” Peter said quickly, as he lurched to his feet, “I just really gotta go and… work on that project.”
Peter stumbled over the toolbox on the floor, a testament to his distraction as his Spidey-Sense would have usually warned him of such obstructions, and grabbed his backpack off the ground.
“Peter, wait-”
But Peter didn't wait, or even hang around outside the door to the workshop to listen to the end of Mr. Stark’s sentence, he ran. Like a coward, his mind supplied.
He wasn't a coward, he was just… scared that Mr. Stark was going to expect more of him than he was able to give, he didn't know how to be an intern, so really, was it any surprise that no one at school believed him? Ned probably would have eventually lost his trust in Peter after a while if it wasn't for the discovery that he was Spider-Man.
Peter made his way upwards to the roof, instead of towards the main exit, slipping his web-shooters on over his wrists in preparation to swing home.
“Peter, Boss has requested that I ask you to stay, at least for ten minutes,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, which of course shouldn't have been a surprise considering she was everywhere in the building - except the bathrooms.
“I can’t,” Peter said, guilt gnawing at his stomach as he spoke, “tell him that I’m sorry for rushing out, and it wasn't anything he said-” that was a lie but Mr. Stark didn't need to feel guilty about expecting Peter to do his job “-and maybe just say I’ll see him on Saturday, although if wants to he could text me the details?”
“I’ll pass that along,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said gently, or as gently as a robotic voice could sound, “take care Peter, don't forget your mask and swing safely.”
“Thanks, F.R.I.,” he mumbled as the doors to the roof slid open and Peter breathed in the cool NYC evening air.
Taking note of her advice, he pulled his Spider-Man mask out of his backpack and pulled it over his head, he didn't bother changing fully into his suit, he was only going home - he had no plans to stop and fight any crimes.
“Good evening, Peter, I heard from F.R.I.D.A.Y. that you were distressed, how are you now?” Karen greeted him instantly.
“Of course you did,” Peter muttered, “I’m fine, don't worry, but can I ask you something?”
“You just did, but of course I am your A.I. system therefore you can ask me as many questions as you’d like,” Karen told him.
“Alright,” Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes behind the mask as he wondered whether she had been programmed to respond with that whenever he asked if he could ask a question, “uh, so theoretically if I asked you some questions would you have to tell Mr. Stark what I asked you?”
“No, he only has override codes in case of an emergency, but I was designed to be yours alone and that must come with some degree of trust.”
“Right,” Peter said, trying to process her words as he launched himself off the side of Stark Tower and felt the cold wind make his clothes flap in the breeze, his stomach swooped with the familiar, intoxicating fear of falling and he felt himself immediately perk up with the adrenaline rush.
He waited until he could make out the shocked expressions of the people on the street before he shot a web, feeling the familiar tug on his arms as his fall was broken and he swung in an upwards arc - it felt like he was on a rollercoaster and he couldn't deny that he loved every moment of it.
He had almost lost himself in the comforting thwips of web-slinging and the soothing breeze when Karen spoke up once more and reminded him of his concerns.
“Did you want to ask me anything else?” she prompted.
“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled, “what would an intern typically wear to a Stark Industries Charity Gala?”
“Mr. Stark doesn't typically take interns to his Galas,” Karen informed him, “however, I know that you’re asking this because you were invited this Saturday, therefore why don't you just wear formal attire.”
“How did you know that?” Peter asked in a moment of paranoia.
“I am connected to Tony Stark’s personal server which is the same server as F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she has the finalised guest list for the Gala which includes your name.”
“Is there anything else there about me?” Peter wondered, “besides my name, that is?”
“Unlimited access.”
“Unlimited because I’m an intern, right?” Peter asked, “I have to be able to do what Mr. Stark needs during the Gala?”
“I don't follow your line of questioning,” Karen said.
“Yeah, no,” Peter mumbled, “I didn't really follow that either. How about this: what does an intern typically do?”
“I need more context,” Karen said, “the job role of an intern depends on who they intern for.”
“Alright, what does an S.I. intern do?” Peter corrected.
“In which department?”
“Mr. Stark’s personal intern, what would be expected of that person?”
“The only person to ever fill that role is yourself, therefore I’m afraid that’s only a question you can answer as it was never an official post therefore I can’t source any information from a job application.”
“So,” Peter said slowly as he swung, “you’re telling me that only I know the answer to the thing I don't know?”
“Exactly.”
“Great,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head to himself.
So basically he was the only person who had ever interned for Mr. Stark, which made sense, after all, Mr. Stark had always had Miss. Potts with him, she had been his assistant before she had taken over everything, therefore why would he need interns? If anything, Miss. Potts was probably the one who had interns, so what if Peter asked her?
No.
That wouldn't work, she and him hadn't seen each other a ton and if he went up to her and started asking weird questions she would either assume that he was looking for money or she’d grow suspicious and tell Mr. Stark about him questioning her.
So, he was essentially lost. There didn't seem to be any clear answer about how to be a good intern for Mr. Stark or what would be expected of him on Saturday. To be fair he should have expected this to be harder than expected, his mentor wasn't one to play by the rules and why should this situation be any different?
“Are you alright?” Karen asked, “you’re acting strange tonight, your behaviour is sparking concern.”
“I’m fine,” Peter lied, “just worried about this project thing I have to prepare for school next week.”
“You know, I am connected to a great deal of information, if you need help with a project, you can always ask me,” Karen reminded him.
“Yeah, K, I know,” Peter murmured, “I just need to think, alright? I’m fine, I just need some time to myself.”
“Noted.”
And with that, she fell silent, finally, and Peter was left to his thoughts and worries. Which he had absolutely planned to do, except a piercing scream breaking through the night distracted him from himself.
“No, no, please, my husband’s medication is in that bag!” A woman shouted, sounding panicked, “please, no, he has seizures and if you take his meds he will be in danger and my money is in there too, I can’t buy more pills.”
Peter immediately changed his trajectory, so much for not getting involved in anything, I probably should have put the whole Spidey-Suit on, he thought to himself as his hearing honed in on the desperate sobs coming from an alleyway.
The scene that met Peter in the alleyway made his blood boil and he felt himself gritting his teeth without meaning to; a lady who looked to be in her late seventies was clutching at her handbag as though her life depended on it, although judging by what Peter had previously heard, her husband’s did. The thief was tugging sharply and slashing the air between them with a sharp blade, he didn't seem to be trying to stab her, but he wasn't exactly being careful.
“Hey!” Peter shouted, successfully distracting the thief who seemed to jump out of his skin and let go of the lady’s handbag on impulse.
“Spidey?” the man asked, looking over Peter’s clothes with a confused frown which reminded Peter that he was wearing an incredibly dorky science T-Shirt with an amazing science pun on it, he would probably have to bin the shirt now, or at the very least retire it for a year or so.
“Stealing a lady’s handbag?” Peter asked, not needing to put much effort into proving that he was disappointed in the guy, “really man? That’s low, especially when she’s told you her husband’s very important medications are in there.”
“No one asked you, beat it!”
“I can’t do that,” Peter said, “I’m going to have to insist that you walk away, maybe if you go in the opposite direction I won’t knock you out and call the police.”
Alright, so maybe that was a lie and Peter was planning to web the guy up and call the cops no matter what he decided.
“Oh, fuck off,” the man muttered.
“Hey!” Peter shouted, “language!”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the thief snapped, forgetting about the lady and her handbag in order to focus his attention on Peter.
He made a quick hand motion to the lady to run, and thankfully she didn't need to be told twice as she instantly broke into a hasty trot away, her heels clicking on the concrete but the thief didn't seem to care, his attention was solely on Peter and the blade in his hands was no longer being held loosely, now it was poised to attack.
“Woah, dude!” Peter muttered, holding his hands up as he backed off a few steps, “I take it back, you can use whatever language you want.”
“Why couldn't you just keep swinging?” the man asked as he took a couple of calculated steps forward, “I had this all under control, why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to get involved?”
“You were stealing that lady’s handbag,” Peter said, “and her husband’s medication, there’s nothing about that situation that is controlled.”
“It was for me, alright?” the man screamed.
Uh oh, Peter thought, from experience he had realised that when people were overly emotional, they became unpredictable. This man was armed and seemed desperate.
That was something that Peter occasionally struggled with; he was out almost every night as Spider-Man and often he stopped people who weren't truly bad but they were just in a difficult situation. Did that make him a bad person? Some of those ‘criminals’ were potentially only trying to scrounge money to feed their families.
He couldn't think like that though because if he started excusing some people’s bad actions and condemning others’, where did he draw the line? Spider-Man was the person who looked out for the little guy, he stopped crime, he didn't take statements and decide who was guilty or whose actions were justified. If someone did something wrong then he would stop them and that was that.
“Look, I get you think you have your reasons for this, but it's wrong,” Peter said, “why don't you put the knife away, and maybe we can sort this out without anyone getting hurt?”
“You-” the man broke off, seemingly too angry to form a coherent sentence, instead he lunged forward, knife in hand.
Peter hadn't been expecting that reaction, he had hoped the man would have been willing to compromise. In a desperate attempt to avoid being impaled on the guy’s blade, Peter forced himself through the air and he hit the ground with a thud, feeling as though something in the side of his chest had cracked.
“Ouch,” Peter muttered, trying to ignore the whine he could hear in his own voice, he was meant to be the tough hero who fended for those who couldn't fend for themselves, “hey, man, that was seriously not cool.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
The man lunged at him again, still holding the knife, and Peter skittered backward like a crab until his back came up against a hard, metal surface: oh, the dumpster. He desperately needed to get back up on his feet, he was at a serious disadvantage.
His Spidey-Sense thrummed in alarm and he whirled around just in time to see the moonlight glint off the blade that was flying towards his face - this guy was aiming to kill! In a last-minute, desperate attempt, he pushed himself downwards so that the guy stabbed into the dumpster instead of Peter’s face, the blade cutting through the metal as though it were butter.
“Dude, what the hell?” Peter gasped out from his place, flat on his back on the damp alleyway ground.
“Stop moving,” the man grunted as he swung again.
“What?” Peter asked, “no!”
Why would he do the one thing that would mean certain death? Sure, he put on a spandex suit on a nightly basis and swung around the city at dizzying heights, but he didn't have a death wish. Besides, his suit had a certain degree of shock absorption ability, and it was cut-proof, which didn't always prevent Peter from getting hurt, but it definitely took away the brunt of his injuries.
Except he wasn't wearing his suit currently…
He was very much just Peter Parker in a mask, although he did have his web-shooters. His web-shooters! Just as the guy lifted the blade, with two hands, looking as though he was ready to perform a sacrifice, Peter shot a web upwards and pulled himself out from certain death.
As he flew upwards he felt the man strike one last time, and in his desperation, he succeeded. Pain radiated through Peter as the blade embedded in his thigh and was dragged downwards as Peter’s body moved up.
“Ah!” Peter called out in agony, the man below in the alley laughed in victory.
“Got the little bastard!” The man cheered as he started to run.
Peter wanted to chase after him, web him up and make sure that he would never hurt another person ever, but he was smart enough to know that with the current state of his leg, he wasn't going to be chasing anyone.
“Karen? You there?” Peter asked, despite knowing that she never went anywhere.
“I’m here,” she confirmed, “I know you needed time to think, but I would seriously recommend seeking medical attention, you have a large laceration down your right thigh.”
“I’m aware,” Peter said dryly, or tried to, his humour was shadowed by the pain that was coursing through him.
“I can contact Mr. Stark if you would like?” she offered, and normally Peter would have said yes, he would have felt relief at the thought of his mentor coming to pick him up from the cold rooftop and taking him back to the tower where he would receive decent pain relief and have his wound cared for immediately.
But, he couldn't say yes, because he had run out in such a strange way that the next time he saw Mr. Stark the man would undoubtedly have more questions than Peter was ready to answer.
“No,” he said slowly, “but thanks, Karen, actually though… could you just alert the police to that guy, I don't care what you tell them, just make sure he can't hurt anyone else, please?”
“Consider it done,” she said.
Peter let out a breath of relief that he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. It was going to be alright, the cops would pick up the guy before he hurt anyone else, that lady would probably be at home with her husband by now and he could go home and patch himself up before he started to research further into interning at a fancy Gala.
Or, that had been the plan.
By the time he made it home, the sun was beginning to reappear in the sky and he could hear the sounds of the city waking up for another day.
It's a good thing May was on the nightshift, Peter thought to himself as his apartment block finally came into view.
His jeans were no longer blue, but rather a strange brownish red with the effect of a mixture of dried and still flowing blood. His blood. It wasn't often he ended up covered in his own blood, but these things happened he supposed.
Taking advantage of the last hour or so of dim light, he carefully crawled up the side of the building, doing his best to make sure there wasn't a blood trail leading up to his window - he wouldn't be able to explain that one away easily.
“You have a text from Mr. Stark,” Karen informed him.
“Oh…” Peter mumbled and he painfully crawled through his bedroom window and let his body fall to the carpet with a thump, “what does it say?”
“One message from Tony Stark, sent two minutes ago: hey Kiddo! I’m not really sure what happened back there, maybe I overstepped by bringing up colleges and working with me, or maybe you’re more interested in Oscorp - although I don't know why didn't you hear about their animal experimentation scandal? Probably not a good time for jokes, but let me know you’re alright, ok? I saw that Karen has been active all night, so try and get some sleep and just know that I’m not mad at all… I’m just a little confused, but there's no pressure here for you to explain what was up. “
“Do you think I upset him?” Peter asked his A.I. carefully as he lay on his bedroom floor, probably creating a mess of blood that he would be forced to scrub at later.
“I like to think he was honest in the message, I believe he is just confused.”
“It’s stupid,” Peter mumbled, “like, I shouldn't have freaked out, it was so dumb of me.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” Karen offered.
“Uh, maybe?” Peter said, “I could keep the mask on while I clean this leg up.”
“Sounds good,” and if Peter wasn't mistaken, her voice sounded gentle and reassuring, he was lucky that she was a computer program and didn't tire of him, or need to sleep.
So, Peter carefully pulled himself back to his feet, crying out in agony as soon as he put weight on his bad leg. If the thought of trying to stand once more didn't fill him with dread, he would have crumbled instantly.
“Shit,” he muttered, he wasn't one for regularly cursing but all things considered he felt the situation called for it, and there was no one around to hear, except Karen.
He made his way slowly to the bathroom, dragging his leg rather than stepping to try and reduce the amount of muscle movement, not that it mattered, the blood still oozed out and the tearing sensation still made him feel nauseated.
“I’m going to have so much blood to clean up before May comes home,” Peter whined to Karen as he pushed open the bathroom door, leaving a red smear behind.
“Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark for you? He can hire a cleaning company,” Karen offered.
“A… cleaning company?” Peter asked, feeling ill at the thought, and not just from the pain he was in, “no, no that’s fine, thanks though.”
He and May weren't poor per se, but they didn't often have an abundance of money to spare, and the thought of paying someone to come and clean their little apartment, when that money could have been used for gas or food, made Peter feel ill. He already caused their food bill to skyrocket thanks to his enhanced metabolism.
Peter sat down heavily on the side of the bathtub, letting the bright lights hurt his eyes momentarily.
“Karen?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“I didn't run out on Mr. Stark because I was upset that he had brought up college or offered me a position at Stark Industries,” Peter admitted, “I mean, it was a bit of a shock, and I know I’m going to have to decide what I want to do with my life soon enough because I can’t live in limbo until I know for sure, but yeah, working with Mr. Stark is the dream.”
“So why did you leave?” Karen asked.
“He asked me to go to the Charity Gala,” Peter said.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“No, no, no, not for a normal intern,” Peter admitted, “but for me, yeah, I’ve never actually done anything intern-y in my life, I don't even know how to make coffee because I don't drink it and that one time I tried to make it for May she made me promise to never put her through that again.”
“So?”
“So interns get coffee,” Peter said as he inched out of his jeans, the dried blood creating a kind of glue between the fabric and his skin.
“You have never gotten coffee,” Karen informed him as though that wasn't partially what he was freaking out about.
“Exactly,” Peter muttered, gently easing his clothing off was causing him too much pain, so he tore the jeans away from the wound in a sharp motion that made stars blink in and out of existence in his line of vision as darkness threatened at the edges.
He didn't remember slipping off the side of the tub, but just as he thought he was going to lose the fight to stay awake, the fuzziness disappeared from his vision and he was blinking tiredly on the bathroom floor with his leg oozing fresh blood.
“Peter? Peter!”
“Ugh,” he groaned, “s’ok, ‘m fine.”
“I really think it’s about time we sought more professional help,” Karen suggested.
“No, no, it’s all good,” Peter said as he started to feel less dizzy from the agony, “besides, I was telling you stuff, remember?”
“Indeed, would you like to continue?”
“Yeah, uh, so, the coffee thing,” Peter mumbled as he gently nudged his jeans off properly, trying to avoid looking too closely at the blood on his leg as he did so, “well, it’s just that I’ve never done one of the most simple things an intern does, and Mr. Stark was dropping hints about me being an intern, so obviously I need to fill that role at the Charity Gala, but how can I when I don't know what’s expected of me?”
“Maybe you’re meant to just go and have a good time?” Karen suggested.
“No, no it’s not that,” Peter was sure, “he mentioned interning a few times, it was very clear that he’s wanting me to step up and actually fill that role.”
“Why don't you ask him?”
“What? No way!” Peter said quickly, “I absolutely can't do that.”
“Why not?”
“You wouldn't get it,” Peter muttered and ripped the mask off in one smooth action, feeling slightly guilty about cutting off his closest confidant so ruthlessly.
He tried to ignore the turmoil in his mind and instead focused his attention on the gash on his leg. He carefully pulled himself back up onto the side of the tub and swung around so that he could clean the wound off in the bath. He used the showerhead and rinsed it on the gentlest pressure setting, rubbing at the skin around the laceration to clear it of the dried and congealing blood.
“What the-”
For some reason he had expected a long swipe, maybe from upper thigh to his knee, he had not expected the sight he was met with. The wound was the length of his pointer finger, and it was wide. It was almost like someone had cut an oval into his flesh rather than swiping him with a knife.
It needed stitches.
It probably needed a professional, but Peter was an amateur with a complex against disturbing others and a strong need to avoid Mr. Stark until the Gala, so he was going to have to deal with it himself. How much blood had he lost? How long did he have until this wound became life-threatening? He needed to get his shit together and sort it out.
Once he had finished rinsing the laceration, he wrapped one of May’s nice yellow towels around it tightly, to try and stem the flow of the blood - a large part of him felt guilty, he was going to have to throw it away and listen to her confused rambles as she wondered what had happened to it.
“Come on, Peter,” he muttered to himself, “you can do this.”
He forced himself to stand, ignoring how that simple, painful movement made a sudden red appear on the otherwise pristine towel.
“Gotta close it up,” he muttered as he opened the mirrored cabinet and began to rake through for the first aid kit he knew was hidden in there, various things fell as he searched and clattered into the sink making him glad that he was home alone.
When he opened the first aid kit, he rummaged until he found the thing he had been looking for; a pack of Steri-Strips. He opened them and read through the information leaflet.
Only use on shallow, clean, uninfected wounds.
Do not use where bleeding is unmanageable or significant.
Do not use on hairy, oily areas, joints, the face.
Seek medical attention if the wound was a human or animal bite.
Well, that was a lot of situations in which they were unsuitable and Peter was fairly sure his wound wasn't shallow and he would have said the bleeding was erring on the unmanageable side, but what else could he do? He didn't have any other option, he would have to try.
So he did, he carefully unwound the towel and looked at the nauseating wound on his thigh. He needed to align the edges and hold them in place with the Steri-Strips. It sounded simple… but it was going to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he started to get to work. Small whimpers and whines of pain would escape every now and then as he struggled not to lose himself to the lightheaded feeling that kept coming with the pain.
The Steri-Strips didn't work as well as Peter had hoped, the edges of the wound weren't exactly lining up and there were parts of the sticky side that were attached to the open part of the wound, which he was sure wasn't meant to happen. But, it was an improvement, and that was all he could ask for.
He stuck one of the sterile dressings over the top and used the first aid scissors to cut a strip off the towel - he was going to bin it anyways - which he then tied tightly around the affected area to create enough pressure to stop the bleeding.
“Now to clean up,” he muttered with a slightly delirious laugh that he was putting down to the blood loss.
Sitting there, with his leg wound cared for - to his best ability - and his throbbing ribs, Peter realised just how tired he was. He still needed to clean up the mess he’d created and research what Mr. Stark would be expecting of him at the Gala.
He pulled on his mask tiredly, “Karen?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you, what can I do for you?”
“Can you text Mr. Stark for me and say: sorry for running off like that, don't worry I’ll be at the Gala tomorrow, and I’ll be fully prepared.”
“Message sent.”
“Thanks, Karen,” Peter said and laid his head back, fighting the urge to fall into a deep, comforting sleep. He still had so much to do…
----
By the time Saturday evening arrived, Peter was so nervous he was almost crawling about on the ceiling.
“Oh, Honey, relax would you,” May said with a fond eye roll as she rewatched the tie tutorial that she’d saved after they’d both been mystified by the snakelike fabric on the night of Homecoming.
“Relax?” Peter asked, his voice a few octaves too high, “May, I can’t just relax, this is the Stark Charity Gala and I am a Stark Intern.”
“So?” May asked, motioning for him to come closer so she could do up the tie after her third run through of the video.
“So, I need to be the best intern that has ever been to one of these things, if it gets out that I’m Mr. Stark’s personal intern and I don’t do a good enough job, then my actions will impact negatively on Mr. Stark and I can’t have that!”
“You need to calm down, Pete,” May said with a laugh, “you’re getting too in your head about this, why don't you just try to have a good time? And maybe go fix your hair.”
“Yeah,” Peter mumbled running a hand through his curls, “hair. I can do that.”
“Just don't use as much gel as you did last time, alright?” May said, “the curls suit you, the greasy look does not.”
“Oh ha ha,” Peter mumbled as he made his way out of the living room, pain echoing in every step, but May couldn't know.
She couldn't know about the thirty dressings he had gone through in the last two days as his leg refused to heal properly, despite his normally impressive healing abilities. She couldn't know about the weird yellowish-green discharge that was escaping constantly or the strange smell he had begun to notice. She couldn't even know about the smattering of dark bruises that spanned across half his ribs and made breathing difficult.
“Don’t take too long, Peter,” May called after him, “Happy will be here soon and I want to take some pictures of you before you leave.”
Peter looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his ghostly pallor and the bags beneath his eyes, how had he avoided causing May suspicion? He looked terrible, or maybe that was his enhanced sight picking up on things normal people couldn't see.
He coated his fingers in a light amount of gel and ran them through his hair, enough to style it but not so much that it looked greasy, as May would say.
“Alright, I’m ready!” Peter declared, walking back into the room to be met with the flash of a camera, “woah! May!”
“You look so cute!” she said in response.
“I am not cute!” Peter insisted, “I- I’m- I am the most-”
“Face it, you’re the cutest,” May said pinching his cheeks gently, before pulling him into a hug that squeezed his ribs painfully, “alright, now, have a good night, alright?”
“You sure you don't want to come?” Peter asked.
“Oh no,” May said with a laugh, “I have a bottle of red and a handful of romcoms with my name on them.”
“Alright,” Peter said, “have a good night.”
“You too, and if you’re staying at the tower, send me a text, ok?” May asked, “I don't want to spend the night worrying about where you are.”
“You got it!” Peter said with false cheer, he doubted that Mr. Stark would want him to stay over, especially as he hadn't replied to the man since that message while he’d been cleaning his wound up.
Peter made his way downstairs to see the familiar sleek black car parked by the curb, without hesitating he wandered over to the back door and slipped inside.
“Hey, Happy!”
Happy grunted in greeting and fixed Peter with a piercing stare through the rearview mirror.
“Is uh, is everything ok?” Peter wondered nervously.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Happy said, “Tony says you’ve been avoiding his messages.”
“My phone died,” Peter lied.
“You couldn't charge it?”
“My charger is broken.”
“You couldn't get a new one?”
“We’re not all billionaires,” Peter mumbled.
“You could have asked Tony, he would have replaced it in a heartbeat.”
“How?” Peter asked, “my phone was dead.”
“Alright, fine, keep your secrets,” Happy grumbled, “just… be careful alright, Kid? Tony is really worried about you and I thought he was maybe overreacting because I know how he can be sometimes, but now I’m beginning to think something might be wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Happy asked, ignoring Peter’s lie.
“Uh actually, can we go to a Drive-Thru Starbucks on the way?”
“You… want coffee?”
“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled.
“Alright, sure,” Happy said, “the first time you’ve actually asked for something so I’m not going to say no.”
Was it really?
The server manning the Drive-Thru window looked very confused when Happy pulled up and requested an Americano and a Hot Chocolate, Peter could see her glancing between the two of them, obviously wondering who Peter was and why he was being chauffeured around.
Maybe she would make up a story for her friends to laugh about, or maybe she was tired and nearing the end of her shift and didn't really care. Either way, Peter slunk back into the seat and looked the other way until Happy handed him the two drinks he had requested.
“So, what’s with the drinks Kid?” Happy asked.
“I don't know how to make coffee,” Peter admitted as though that was an appropriate answer.
“Alright,” Happy said and he sighed deeply, “do you… do you normally drink coffee?”
“What? No, this stuff could kill me,” Peter said, “ever since becoming Spider-Man, I have bad reactions to caffeine.”
“Bad reactions?” Happy asked, his eyes narrowing at Peter through the mirror.
“Oh yeah, you know; palpitations, heart arrhythmias, rashes, jitters, headaches, projectile vomiting, occasional hallucinations, collapsing episodes, cra-”
“So it’s bad?” Happy interrupted.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Peter agreed.
“So…” Happy trailed off, looking seconds away from pulling over so that he could tear the coffee from Peter’s hands and throw it, “why exactly did we get you a coffee?”
“Oh, this isn't for me.”
“Peter, Kid, come on, you’ve got to give a little here,” Happy muttered, “why did we get a coffee if it’s not for you and you can't even drink the damn stuff?”
“It’s for Mr. Stark,” Peter said as though that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.
“And pray tell, why are you getting a coffee for Mr. Stark before the Charity Gala?”
“Because I’m an intern.”
“Of course,” Happy muttered, looking about ready to drive them off the bridge they were currently crossing, “why did I even need to ask?”
The divider slowly raised between them as Happy muttered his statements of disbelief under his breath.
-----
“There he is!” Mr. Stark said cheerfully as Peter walked into the room, Americano in hand, “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show up.”
“I promised I would,” Peter said, despite Mr. Stark’s words he could see the worry in the older man’s eyes, “oh uh, here, I brought you coffee.”
“Coffee?” Mr. Stark asked, taking the drink from Peter and looking at it in confusion, “you brought me a coffee?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, “I hope it’s alright.”
The worry only seemed to intensify rather than lessening, was Mr. Stark that concerned about Peter messing up in public? If so, why should he invite him?
“Thanks, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, taking a polite sip from the cup, “anyway, why don't I introduce you to some people.”
“Sounds good, but maybe I could go to the toilet first?” Peter asked, “it was a long drive and I may have had a hot chocolate.”
“Great, a sugar hyped kid,” Mr. Stark joked, “go on then, scram, you don't need my permission.”
Things seemed to be going smoothly enough until Peter walked out of the bathroom to find his Spidey-Sense thrumming away with a sense of urgency. Just as he started to look for the source of danger, a hand fisted into the fabric at the back of his neck and he was tugged to the side harshly.
“Where have you been?” a man asked angrily, “and what are you doing out here without even a tray of drinks?”
“I uh-”
“Shut up!” the man snapped, “I don't know who your daddy is or whose ass he had to kiss to get you this job but if you’re going to work tonight I need professionalism.”
“I’m not-”
“I said ‘shut up’!” the man shouted once more, giving Peter a little shake to further drive his demand home. Peter was surprised to find himself slightly afraid, and the shake had hurt his ribs and pushed a little too much pressure down his sore leg.
“Please, Sir,” Peter begged, “I’m not working.”
“Oh you absolutely are,” the man snapped, “you think you can sneak through here and meet Iron Man?”
“I didn't-”
“I have half a mind to kick you out into the gutter,” the man continued, “you are a disappointment to all of us in the service industry, you are meant to remain professional at all times, which doesn't mean fishing around for secrets and autographs.”
“I wasn't!”
“Liar!”
The man tightened his grip and started marching Peter forward as though he was a disobedient child.
“Sir, listen, please,” Peter pleaded, “Mr. Stark is waiting for me.”
The man froze, his grip tightening momentarily, and Peter’s Spidey-Sense blared louder.
“You disturbed Tony Stark?”
“No! No, no, no!” Peter insisted, “I came here with him, I’m his intern.”
“That’s a lie,” the man said, “Stark Industries never brings interns to these events, now come with me or I’m going to end up kicking you out on your ass and blacklisting you from ever working an event in New York ever again.”
“You can’t make me do anything,” Peter grumbled, trying to twist out of the man’s hold but being restricted by the pain in his leg and side, he wasn't going to be able to free himself, “you have to let me go?”
“Or what?” the man asked with a sneer in his voice, “what are you going to do about it?”
“Him? Probably nothing, he’s far too polite for his own good, but me? That’s another story entirely,” Peter felt the grip loosen in a second and he almost crashed to the floor from the relief of it, only for Happy to grab his elbow and stabilise him.
“Thanks, Happy,” Peter whispered, knowing the man would hear him.
“You’re Tony Stark’s security,” the man who had grabbed Peter stated with a dumb expression on his face.
“Yes, and you were manhandling one of the people I am here to protect,” Happy said seriously, Peter had often wondered how Happy - with his tendency to get overstressed and his annoyance at most living things - had become the Head of Security at Stark Industries, but now, looking at him confronting the man, he had no doubts that Happy deserved that title.
“I wasn't- manhandling?” the guy asked, “that’s a bit… harsh, wouldn't you say?”
“I call it as it is,” Happy said, “care to explain?”
“I thought the kid was one of my waiters.”
“Did you recognise him?” Happy asked.
“Well, no, but there are a lot of them, it’s difficult to know them all,” the man said.
“That’s dangerous,” Happy said, “it’s fortunate for you that I personally run background checks on everyone working this function, but if you’re not even able to recognise a stranger among your employees then I feel like you won’t have a future organising events for Stark Industries.”
“Wait, no, you can't do that!” the man insisted, “this is my biggest job of the year.”
“It’s a shame you care so little about it then, imagine not caring enough to learn your employees’ names?”
“It was a misunderstanding!”
“Peter, did you try to tell this man you weren't a waiter”? Happy asked patiently.
“I uh said that I’m an intern and that Mr. Stark was waiting for me,” Peter admitted, feeling a little guilty for the ashen look that came over the man’s face when he realised that Peter had been telling the truth, after all, how else would the head of security know Peter’s name?
“Mr. Stark is in fact waiting for you,” a familiar voice broke in, “and he’s not a patient man, what is going on here?”
The man now looked positively grey as he tried to look anywhere but at the confused and impatient billionaire before him, Peter however noticed the way Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed in on the crumpled fabric by Peter’s neck and the sheen of panicked sweat on his forehead.
His mentor looked questioningly at Happy, “well?”
“This is Bernard Kyting,” Happy said, and Peter was sure in that moment that Happy knew absolutely everyone in the room’s name and face, “he is the owner of the company that organised this Gala, he is also the man that just manhandled Peter and attempted to kidnap him.”
“Kidnapping? What no!”
“Uh, Happy, he wasn't going to kidnap me,” Peter said hesitantly.
“Are you sure?” Happy asked seriously, “because we should operate on the worst-case scenario and him trying to force you to go somewhere against your will without listening to you say you’re an intern and that Tony was waiting for you sounds bad to me.”
“It would probably sound bad to the police too,” Mr. Stark agreed thoughtfully.
“You’re not serious!” Bernard gasped.
“I’m deadly serious when it comes to Peter’s safety,” Mr. Stark said.
“Mr. Stark, I really don't think-���
“Hush Peter, we’re handling this,” Mr. Stark said, “actually, don’t hush, Happy will handle this and I am going to show you off to all the stuffy businessmen here, let’s make them all insecure as a twelve-year-old shows them up.”
“Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.
“Exactly, now come on.”
Maybe it was the anxiety that had been festering in his stomach since he’d been invited to the Gala, or maybe it was the stress of almost being roped into working as a waiter for a high-end Gala, or maybe it was even the blood loss he’d recently suffered… maybe the reason didn't matter, because it was kind of irrelevant.
The important thing was that Peter suddenly found himself falling forward.
He felt hands grab at him to try and stop him from crashing against the ground, but they caught him exactly where his ribs were sore and Peter screamed and everything flashed a brilliant, agonising white before the darkness suddenly crept in.
------
When Peter woke up he was partially surprised that he had actually passed out and partially relieved that he had passed out. He had managed to completely avoid the stress of pretending to know how to act as an intern.
He tried to sit up, only to gasp and fall back against the pillows as his ribs announced their displeasure at the sudden movement, “oh,” he murmured under his breath as he tried to catch what little of it was left thanks to the pain.
“I wouldn't recommend that,” a smooth voice said from beside him, Peter turned his head to see Mr. Stark sitting there, looking over his tablet at him.
“Hey,” Peter mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact.
“You have three fractured ribs,” Mr. Stark informed him casually, “which wouldn't normally concern me too much because I get it, it kinda comes with the job, no matter how good you are, you usually end up a little banged up.”
Peter nodded solemnly, not wanting to speak up because he got the impression that Mr. Stark was nowhere near finished.
“However, imagine my surprise when I lift your unconscious body up off the floor and find myself with a patch of blood on my new grey suit,” Peter winced, yeah, there it was, “so of course, there’s complete pandemonium, we think there’s an assassin in the Gala, we lock the place down and organise S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medics to attend. The highest of all security is on alert and preparing to raid the building, only for us to find that you have a stab wound, that looks to be a few days old on your leg.”
“Oh, that,” Peter mumbled.
“Oh that, yes that,” Mr. Stark snapped, “what the hell were you thinking not telling me about that?”
“It happened after I left the other day,” Peter admitted, “and I thought I’d managed to deal with it myself.”
“You thought-” Mr. Stark broke off and sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “do you realise how irresponsible that was?”
“It was fine,” Peter mumbled.
“Fine?” Mr. Stark questioned, his voice rising an octave from the shock of hearing such a thing.
“I have healing powers,” Peter said.
“Kid, you’re still human, you still need appropriate medical care and time to recuperate after getting hurt,” Mr. Stark said gently, “you’re not a machine, no one expects you to be able to keep going without looking after yourself.”
“I guess,” Peter whispered.
“And you had no idea what you were doing, did you?” Mr. Stark asked although it seemed like he already knew, “those Steri-Strips were totally inappropriate for that wound.”
“I know,” Peter said, looking down, “I just didn't have anything else.”
“You had your phone.”
Peter cast him a confused look, “my phone? They don't like blood or moisture that much.”
“To… call me,” Mr. Stark said slowly, looking at Peter with a strange mix of disappointment and amusement, “you’re a smart kid, but would you really think to put your phone on a bloody wound before using it to call me.”
“Uh, not usually,” Peter said, “but this kinda happened after I left yours the other day.”
“Ah,” Mr. Stark murmured, seemingly understanding something that Peter hadn't yet explained.
“What?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved by the older man’s sudden understanding.
“I freaked you out with all that talk of colleges and coming to work for Stark Industries,” Mr. Stark said quietly.
“What? No!” Peter almost shouted, jerking upright in the bed despite the pain in his ribs that threatened his ability to breathe, “Mr. Stark, that’s not at all what happened.”
“No?” Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow curiously.
“No, of course not,” Peter mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I wasn't ready to think about that sort of thing, but it would be an honour to work for you in the future, but Mr. Stark, I realised that I’m a really bad intern.”
“What- Kid, no,” Mr. Stark said quickly.
“I am!” Peter argued, “I don’t know how to make coffee, I don't know how to sort paperwork, I don't know what else interns actually do! There’s no way you can say I’m good at it when I don't even understand my own job description. You invited me to the Charity Gala as your intern and I freaked out because I didn't want to embarrass you, I wanted to make a good impression.”
“Kid, I invited you to the Gala as you,” Mr. Stark said, “we both know the internship is a fake formality to keep your alter ego a secret and give you a boost in your college applications.”
“So, you’re not mad that I don't know how to make coffee?”
“I never was,” Mr. Stark said, “wait… is this why you brought me an Americano earlier?”
Peter nodded guiltily, “yeah…”
“Kid, you absolutely did not have to do that, although I must admit since I’m staying away from all the fun stuff now, it was rather nice to have,” Mr. Stark said, “I wanted you there so you could have a good time and so that I could brag about how amazing you are.”
Peter couldn't stop the warmth that spread over his cheeks and he ducked his head.
“I just didn't want to be a disappointment,” Peter mumbled.
“Kiddo, you could never,” Mr. Stark sounded as though he had never been more sure about anything, “I’m slightly upset that you didn't come to me about this wound, but I get that your teenage brain works in mysterious mystery ways.”
“I tried my best with it,” Peter mumbled.
“It’s infected.”
“I didn't say my best was good,” Peter continued, he pulled the blankets to the side to look at the wound on his leg only to find that the bloody, yellowing dressing he had last seen was gone and had been replaced by a bright white one with only a tiny amount od seepage. “You fixed it.”
“Well, my doctor did,” Mr. Stark corrected, “I called him in and we gave you some of Cap’s meds to keep you a little out of it while we cleaned it up and you’re now the proud owner of some stitches.”
“Oh cool,” Peter mumbled.
“Stitches are cool?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised brow, perhaps he was questioning Peter’s sanity.
“No, I got Captain America’s drugs!” Peter said with a smirk, “he always tells us not to do drugs in those PSAs so this is a wonderful twist of medicated irony.”
“Yeah, I think they’re still in your system a little,” Mr. Stark muttered, “so since you’re still a little dopey, I think now would be a good time to remind you that you have three fractured ribs and you’re not allowed to go out as Spider-Man until they’re fully mended.”
“Wait… what?” Peter protested, “why?”
“Swinging will put a strain on them and cause you pain meaning you could flinch and fall, or you could receive another blow and worsen the damage,” Mr. Stark said, “come on, Underoos, you were just bragging about your healing powers, it won’t be forever.”
“But…” Peter hesitated.
“But what?”
“If I can’t be Spider-Man will I still be allowed to come to the workshop?” Peter asked and he focused his attention on fiddling with the sheets rather than facing the look he knew Mr. Stark would cast towards him.
He wasn't ready for the ‘why would you come to the workshop if you’re not needing upgrades?’ response, the one that he knew in his head he was about to receive.
“Kid, what?” Mr. Stark responded instead, “look at me, Peter.”
Peter blinked back the tears that were building in his eyes, trying his best not to appear childish and weak before the man who had been his hero since he was a child.
“Pete, c’mon Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said gently, and Peter found himself unable to avoid him any longer, “I don’t know why you have this idea that I only care about Spider-Man, because you are always going to be my number one priority.”
“But-”
“Uh uh,” Mr. Stark cut him off, “no, you need to listen to this. I’m Tony Stark, do you really think I would have a fifteen-year-old kid running around my home if I didn't want him there? Do you think I’d be texting his Aunt and arranging transport for him when she’s at work? Would I have a ridiculous amount of food and sweet things in my kitchen? Would I brag about him to my colleagues and competitors?”
“But we spend so much time designing stuff for Spider-Man?”
“Because you are Spider-Man and no matter how much I wish you had a safer hobby, I know that you won’t quit helping people just to stop the greying of my hair and the wrinkles that are forming. So instead of sitting here panicking about you getting brutally killed, I help you develop things that will ensure your safety - which you then bypass by trying to teat that wound by yourself.”
“Oh,” Peter mumbled, how had he gotten it so wrong? “I’m sorry.”
“Kid, don't apologise,” Mr. stark said, “listen, I’m the one who’s sorry for making you think that I only cared about Spidey, I know I’m as Pepper would say “emotionally constipated” but I really do care about you and your dorky interests.”
Peter couldn't help but smile, “well, in that case, I’m sorry for freaking out about the intern thing, and for hiding my injuries from you.”
“Those are apologies I can accept,” Mr. Stark said with a smile, “although, I wouldn't be opposed to you turning up with coffee more, especially when we both know Happy’s the one paying for it, just… not Starbucks, ok? Try some smaller places, support local businesses and all that jazz.”
“MJ would love that you said that,” Peter mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah, come on then,” Mr. Stark said, his knees cracking as he stood and stretched.
“Come on?” Peter repeated, “where are we going?”
“Someone has to explain all of this to your aunt and I’m not taking the blow on my own,” Mr.Stark said.
“You can’t throw me under the bus,” Peter protested, “I’m injured.”
“Yeah, and I will be too if you’re not there to soften the blow.”
Peter grumbled under his breath as he clambered out of the comfortable bed, May was going to be so pissed at him, in fact, he’d be lucky if he lived to see his Spidey-Suit ever again. Maybe he should write a will, did he had time for that?
He was pulled out of his thoughts by Mr. Stark moving to his side to support his weight so that he didn't step too heavily on his sore leg.
“You don’t have to help me,” Peter said, “I’ve been walking on it since I hurt it.”
“Yeah and look how that ended up,” Mr. Stark muttered, “anyways, this is as much for me as it is for you. May won’t kill me if she thinks I’m holding you up.”
“You’re using me!” Peter protested.
“Now he gets it.”
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I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader
Masterlist
Part 6
Pairing: Spencer x Reader
Warnings: Descriptions of murders, cases, Serial killer facts,
Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner
~~~~~~~~~~
○●♡●○
It had been about two months or so since your little impromptu sleepover at the resident genius's place. Things had gotten a little better, at least on your part.
"Hey!"
You jumped from your make-do desk in your room, snapping your head towards the doorway where a friendly face awaited you. Gabriel had a bag of sweets in one hand and a malt in the other. "Jesus, Gabe you scared me." You cursed, holding a hand to your chest.
"At least we're even." He points out, putting the malt on the table in front of you. Also inconveniently on top of your written notes for the paper you had to write. You growled and moved the drink, glaring at your best friend.
"You've gotten even with me plenty of times since then! How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" You ask in exasperation. Gabriel pretends to ponder your question as he pops a caramel apple sucker into his mouth.
"Says the girl who didn't call me to tell me she was home and instead decided to stay with the coworker she has a crush on. You didn't even bribe me with details!" He complained, dumping a few sweets in front of you.
You grumpily grab one of the sweets he had graciously offered and tossed it into your mouth. "It was one time! And I hadn't slept for like, four days! Besides, it wasn't my fault my mother decided to drop by and visit!" You huff.
"Yeah yeah. You know how much I hate that hag. Nothing against you, sugar tits." Gabriel comments, pulling the pop from his mouth. "But still, no excuse not to call me. Send me a text even. Some proof of life." He grumbled. "That malt is yours by the way. Iris insisted I get one for you while we were out. Couldn't say no."
You look over at the bright pink striped cup dripping with condensation that created a wet circle on the desk. For being pissed at you for over two months, Gabriel was a good friend.
You took the malt and started sipping generously. "I'm sorry, okay? What do I have to do to prove it to you?" You ask.
Gabriel smirked. You hated when he got ideas.
"Tell me about your night with Mister teacher's pet. Then I'll consider it." He teased, quickly bopping your nose.
"I already told you. After my bitch mother confronted me, he convinced me to head to his place. I couldn't say no. He eventually read me a poem and I fell asleep. And… he knows my real name now. Happy?" You asked with a groan.
"Oh come on, that can't be all of it!" He whined, almost like a child about to throw a tantrum for being forced to eat his vegetables. Not that Gabriel was any different. He would fight you tooth and nail if you tried.
"It is! Nothing else happened! No kiss, no dramatic display of feelings, no nothing. Just a really awkward drive to work." You huffed.
The thought of the drive was a little hurtful. After the night you both had, well more like morning and you slept through the rest of the day, Spencer had been distant. It didn't last long as a couple days later they all had to get on the jet for another case. Spencer then began to re-warm up to you and now you knew nothing different. Though he didn't try to flirt with you anymore. Not like Morgan. But the previous moments where he had you backed up against the map, or had called you a good girl. He never did it again. And to be honest, you missed it despite how embarrassed you were afterwards.
"Boo! And I thought you liked the guy!" Gabriel exclaimed, acting baffled at the chain of events in your life. He then shrugged. "More fish in the sea I guess." He teased, obviously gaging you for a response.
"I do! Just… I'm not as obscenely obvious about it as you want me to be!" You hissed, sucking up more chocolate malt into your mouth with a little bit of a pissy attitude.
"Well if you were, I'm sure he'd be your teacher's aide boyfriend by now. Now, who's right and wrong in this situation? Hm? Yeah, me. No debate." He insists, putting the sucker back into his mouth.
"Shut up. I have to write this paper. For my doctorate in social science." You explain. "Just because you stopped going to school doesn't mean I can't go ahead and add another doctorate to my belt." You try to change the subject, hoping Gabriel would ease up on you.
"You and those doctorates. Are you seriously trying to build a filing cabinet up there or are you just bored with working for the FBI already?" Gabriel asks, flopping down onto your bed.
"Neither. I just want to know as much as I can in all of my areas of schooling. Be taken seriously." You insist.
"Boring. Why don't you take classes on making candy or something? That would be seriously cool. And then you can open up your own business just to spite those parents of yours!
I can see it now!" He rants, hanging his head over the edge of your mattress as he spreads his hands as if displaying the business name.
You roll your eyes. "No thanks. That sounds like something you should do though. You'd fit right into that role, you know. Candyman." You tease. "Now I really gotta finish this paper." You insist.
"Fine fine. Just be sure to come down from your academic heaven long enough to eat dinner once Iris is finished." He insists, winking at you before he leaves your room.
Finally, you had your peace and quiet. But it was weird. The peace and quiet was very quickly becoming deafening by the influx of thoughts. Not the helpful kind either.
You began to come up blank on ideas for your paper and had more ideas on how you could have maybe done something different to prevent that awkward drive to work all those weeks ago. Where did this uncertainty come from?
You grumble and close your laptop after ten minutes of no progress. Maybe you just needed a break. Then again, it was your day off. And you didn't feel like wishing bad things on someone just so you'd be able to go into work.
Almost as if the universe had been listening and decided to throw you a sickened bone, you heard your phone begin to ring. You eagerly pick it up, knowing it would be something to keep you busy.
"Hello, Agent (L/N)." You answer without checking the caller ID.
"Yes, (L/N) I need you to come in. We have another case." Hotch answers the phone. You feel a slight feeling of excitement strike at your core. Sure, you'd been on 6 cases so far, but you enjoyed being around your fellow agents and putting another unsub away.
"Do I get any insight, Hotch?" You ask.
"It's a case in Lebanon Kansas. We have a large group of bodies piling up. We have two suspects we believe are working with each other. We just need to profile them and catch them before they kill again. I'll inform everyone once you've arrived." As soon as he finished, he hung up. He didn't give you any chance to reply. Typical Hotch fashion.
You stand up immediately, grabbing your bag and your go-bag you had packed at all times just in case this happened. You grabbed the malt you still had and drank the rest of it, grabbing a couple of the caramel apple pops Gabriel had left and shoving them into your pocket.
You wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a plastic container and putting some of dinner into it.
"Woah, woah, where the hell are you going so late?" Gabriel asked in a fatherly tone. You rolled your eyes and glared at him for a moment.
"I have work. Duh."
"Work? I thought you were off?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I am. But unfortunately serial killers don't care that I'm off. Sorry guys. I promise I'll call you guys once I get back, okay?" You promise, finding a lid and putting it on the tubberware.
"You better. Or else I'll stick gum in your hair. And not the easy to get out stuff." Gabriel threatened teasingly, taking a quick bite of his food. "Have fun arresting some muttonheads!" He called.
You chuckle and sling your bag over your shoulder. "Will do!" You reply before you turn around and head out of your shared apartment.
○●♡●○
"Hey! (L/N)!"
You turn your head as you arrive to the bullpen. You smile as the eccentric Penelope Garcia raced up to you to give you a hug once you were down the stairs.
You graciously accepted the hug and turned to everyone else. "What did I miss?" You ask.
"Nothing much. Only Reid finally showing us another magic trick!" Penelope answered for everyone. Morgan chuckled and Reid blushed slightly. Emily was leaned slightly against Reid's desk, looking at you warmly.
"Seriously, he's really good." Emily affirmed. You chuckled and walked over in interest.
"Really now? Show me." You insist, standing in front of Spencer. He looked up at you and did a nervous chuckle.
"W-well your gonna have to turn around." He says, giving you an adorable michevious smirk.
"Oh come on-" you begin.
"He does this everytime, you'll get used to it." Emily adds, laughing slightly as she begins to turn around.
"Spencerrr… please? For me?" You asked, batting your eyes pitifully. You knew it would probably get you nowhere, but you could at lease try.
"No." He insisted.
"Pleaseeee!" You beg again, putting your hands in a clasped position. You even bended your knees slightly to add to the effect.
Instead of the immediate rejection, he pondered for a moment and stared at you.
"Come on kid, one person knows a magician's tricks. Let her be your protégé." Morgan suggests. You giggle and shook your head.
"No really, it's fine. You don't have to show me-" you begin to backtrack, not wanting to force Spencer into showing you.
"I'll do it. I-I mean… I have to find someone to pass my gifts onto." He chuckles, rubbing his neck a little nervously.
"Really?"
"Yeah!" He expressed.
Morgan raised an eyebrow and stifled a chuckle as he watched you two. He leaned over to Emily who had made her way over to where he stood and whispered into her ear.
Spencer then told everyone to turn their heads away except for you. Then he began to show you the way he made the mini bottle rocket. He wrapped his hands around yours and helped you with each step. The warmth of his hands spread to your cheeks, and the touch of them sent shivers down your spine.
"Then turn it upside down and…" Spencer instructed in a whisper, helping you to turn the cap upside down. You watched the foaming top for a few seconds, moving closer towards the unknowing danger of the cap. As soon as it began to jump up, Spencer pushed you back with an inaudible warning. You watched as the bottle skyrocketed and flew fast Hotch's ear. Through this, his hand clutched as your shoulder and refused to leave it.
"Reid, I thought I told you not to do that." Hotch warned.
Reid's face grew a little brighter with embarrassment. You didn't know what came upon you then, but you stood up and gulped. "It-it was me. He taught me and I shot it. Sorry sir." You insisted.
Hotch's lips pulled into a slight smile as he looked back towards you. He didn't say anything afterwards, but you knew he was just teasing you both. "Meet up in the confrence room in five minutes, we have another case." He says after he cleared his throat. You nodded with a cheerful smile and put your bag in your chair. You glanced to Spencer, flashing him a gentle smile before you turned to enter the conference room.
You entered the room and took your seat, taking the tablet out that Garcia had given you before. "So what do we have?" You asked.
"We have what is assumed to be over a dozen bodies killed with different MO's and different stages of aggression. The only thing that links them are the DNA from one or both of these suspects; Jensen and Sam Westchester. And boy do they have long records. That's why we were able to find their DNA matches so quick." Penelope answered.
Spencer took a seat beside you, causing your heart to skip just slightly. "How come we don't have these men yet? Why do they need our help?" You ask.
"We need to apprehend them. And get a confession. The Kansas state court system has been known to be unpredictable. Sometimes evidence is enough, other times they get off with a warning and community service." Hotch answers.
"At least they do that." Morgan grumbled. "How come we don't have these guys yet? Are they that slick?"
"Unfortunately yes. They are like Houdini when it comes to busting out of prisons and facilities. The last prison they were held in, one up in Ohio, said they were able to escape through knocking out a guard and switching clothes with him. They were in for a robbery charge." Penelope continued.
"So why escalate to murder? Unless these murders were scattered." You ask.
"They are. Over 15 years worth. It looks like they could maybe have more." Spencer spoke up, looking over the picture of one of the more recent bodies.
"It's quite possible. After all, Harold Shipman managed to get away with 218 proven murders. But they think he could've done as many as 250." You answer, sharing a serial killer fact you found interesting.
"So we just need to profile these boys and figure out the motive. And if we apprehend them, keep them apart." Emily points out.
"Why do you say that?" Rossi asks.
"If you notice the trend in each of these escapes, they only manage to escape when in contact with the other. In the prison they had time to be able to see one another and formulate a plan. Even when in questioning they were able to get notes to each other."
"Then we'll have to split up and get seperate confessions. These two are brothers, and neither seem to fit the submissive type.' Hotch explains.
"Two alpha males killing for seemingly no reason for half their lives. This'll be easy to get them to confess and rat out their partner." You say sarcastically.
"We have to try. Wheels up in thirty." Hotch announces, standing up and leaving the room.
You sigh and pick up the tablet. "Garcia, can you go ahead and check more than just their juvie records? I wanna have a list of information I can pick from for the profile. Possibly pinpoint some areas of their lives that lead to this behavior." You ask.
"Oh, but of course Queen! I'll get straight on that. But most of it will probably be sealed." She warned.
"Unseal those records Garcia. Anything that can help us." Morgan interjects as he grabs his bag and he too leaves the conference room. Garcia nods to him and quickly clicks her heels as she leaves the room. You sigh and pick up your things as you prepare to get onto the jet.
"You didn't have to defend me."
"Hm?" You ask, turning to look at Spencer. "Oh, you mean the rocket-thingy?" You clarify. "I was the one to beg you to teach me. Let's just be happy it didn't hit him in the head." You giggle. Spencer looked at you intently for a few moments before he nodded and turned his head away silently. Although it caused you to be uncertain, you brushed it off and walked out to your desk to grab your things.
As you grab your bags, you feel the small raised bulge in your pocket. You remember the caramel apple pops and smile. At least you could enjoy one of these on the way to deal with a pair of serial killers. Fun.
You pulled the sucker from the wrapper and popped it into your mouth, beginning your trek out to the jet. As you begin to walk towards the elevator, you notice a pair of hazel eyes following you. You feel a slight burning sensation on the back of your neck and your cheeks as you realized. He looked away once he noticed you were staring back.
Was he really staring, or was he just spacing out? You hoped it was the former. You were practically begging and praying for it to be. But you knew you'd never be that lucky.
As you began walking, you heard a jumble of feet behind you and the jingle of things inside a bag getting tossed around. "(Y/N!)" You heard. You widened your eyes and turned around, glad no one besides Spencer had been behind you.
"Spencer! You can't just call me by my first name right now!" You hissed.
"S-sorry, I just wanted to apologize if I sounded upset with you. I… I find it honorable that you tried to defend me. No one really does." He explained. You felt your heart melt a little.
"Spencer… I didn't think that in the slightest." You knew you were lying, but it was going to make him feel better. Besides, it wasn't that big of a deal. "And if that last part is true then I'll be your legendary defender. Like Voltron!" You insist, already beginning to geek out in front of your workplace crush. Way to go, (Y/N).
"Voltron? What is that? Is it like Star Trek?" He asked, beginning to walk towards the jet with you. You widen your eyes at him and gasp playfully.
"You, haven't seen Voltron Legendary Defender? Okay, when we get back you HAVE to come over and watch it with me. Afterwards we can watch some documentaries." You insist, practically bouncing on your toes. Spencer looked over you and smiled, unable to tell you no.
"Sounds like a plan."
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader fic#spencer reid x you#spencer#spencer reid x reader fanfiction#spencer x y/n#spencer reid x y/n#Criminal Minds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds fandom
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Spider-Man Lesson Number One
Prompt: Doesn’t Realize They’ve Been Injured
This was requested by my friend on Ao3 happy_to_be_here!
Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @clevermuffinalmondpeach @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch
Thank you to @nazezdha321 and @sketchibilitea for beta reading this for me!
And of course we have to tag @badthingshappenbingo!
Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! Hope you all enjoy!
Read on AO3
“Oh my gooooooooooood this is so boring! Friday nights are usually crazy with crime, how is it so dead out here?” Peter said to himself.
“Crime levels fluctuate, Peter,” Karen said into his ear, startling him so hard he almost fell off the side of the building he was sitting on. “Though I did get a report of a disturbance a few streets away. My guess is law enforcement will not arrive for about ten minutes, plenty of time to help out and leave before you get caught.”
“Finally, good lord,” Peter said, shooting a web and swinging his way towards the street Karen indicated. “I mean it’s a Friday, where’s all the raging drunk college kids doing stupid stuff?”
“Perhaps they have all gone to sleep, Peter. It is rather late.”
“Pfft, it’s nine o’clock, the day’s just getting started for them,” Peter said with a snort. Peter landed with a flip on a building by his destination. “Karen, where exactly did you say--”
A scream cut him off and Peter whirled to look down in a dimly lit alleyway.
“Shit, Karen, night vision please?”
“Of course, Peter.”
Peter could suddenly see a man cornering what looked to be a woman and her son. The man lunged at them and the woman punched him hard, and Peter could hear the snap of one of her fingers from even up on the roof. Peter quickly lept down as the woman howled in pain.
“Woah! Hey hey buddy what’re you doing!?” Peter shouted as the man recovered from her punch. He pointed a sharp pocket knife at Peter and snarled, “Give me all your money you little brat!” Peter rolled his eyes.
“Why is it always the same with you guys? Can none of you get that I’ve beat up supervillains? What in the hell makes you think you’ll last longer than the Vulture?” Peter scoffed. The man faltered but didn’t back down, still pointing the blade directly at Peter’s face.
“Goddamit--I need this money!” The man growled.
“You don’t need anything enough to kill someone over it man,” Peter said. “Now are you gonna leave so we don’t have to do the ‘you struggle while I win’ thing, or is that the route you prefer? Remember, this action will have consequences.”
Heh, Ned would appreciate the Life is Strange reference, Peter thought absentmindedly. Hey actually I’m not sure how far he got on that game, I gotta ask him about that tomorr--
Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by the man suddenly swinging the blade far too close to Peter’s chest.
“Woah!” Peter said, doing his best to dodge the man’s swings but stay in front of the woman and her son behind him. “Not cool man!” Peter stopped the mugger’s fist on the fourth swing, squeezing his arm hard until he shouted and dropped the knife. Peter threw him against the wall and webbed him there muttering angrily to himself.
“Stupid fucking ADHD. Of course I forget my meds on a Friday, the day I should be the most focused! Dammit! C’mon Spider-Man, way to be an idiot,” Peter said as he scribbled a note and stuck it to the webbing over the man’s chest.
He turned to face the woman who was still holding her hand with a grimace while her son wailed next to her.
“Oh jeez, yeah that’s definitely broken, here lemme help with that,” Peter said as he saw a deep bruise blossoming over her dark skin. He shot a bit of webbing into his hand and gently wrapped it around her fingers. “That’s gonna dissolve in an hour so you’ll wanna get that checked out as soon as possible, um, I know someone who can help out if you need the bills paid for that--”
“It’s fine, I’m actually a nurse,” the woman said with a strained chuckle. She glanced up at Peter, but her expression suddenly changed to a look of horror. “Oh god, Spiderman--”
“Woops, I can just tell you missed a hyphen there,” Peter said, giving her a good natured glare. “It’s Spider, hyphen, Man. Man with a capital ‘M’. Sorry, I’m a bit of a stickler for this stuff--”
The small boy next to them cut him off with an ear splitting wail, and Peter suddenly felt his heart squeeze.
“Aw, kiddo, you’re alright!” Peter said, squatting down to be at eye-level with the child. He only cried harder, scrubbing his eyes and sniffling miserably in fear.
Peter gently touched his shoulder and looked right into his eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly. That seemed to calm him down a bit, his wails shrinking into small whimpers. “What’s your name kiddo?”
“M-Miles,” he squeaked.
“Miles, huh? That’s a pretty cool name.”
“Not as cool as Spider-Man,” he huffed.
“Well who knows, kid! Maybe you’ll be Spider-Man someday too!” Peter said. Miles’s eyes lit up excitedly and he bounced on his feet.
“Would you teach me!?”
“Ha! I’m sure you could guilt me into it with those little puppy eyes,” Peter said. Miles made his best little doe eyes and Peter gasped.
“Oh no! I’ve been defeated by the cuteness! You’re too powerful Spider-Man!” he cried. Miles giggled in delight and Peter squinted his eyes in a mocking glare.
“Alright kid. Spider-Man lesson number one: Don’t watch the mouth, watch the hands!”
Peter flung an arm up and shot a web, flying high into the air with an elated shout. Peter could hear Miles shrieking with glee below and he smiled.
“See ya later Spider-Man!”
And Peter headed to the tower, taking no notice of the wet warmth dripping down his side.
~~~
Peter arrived at Stark Tower right on time for his curfew, which he still felt was too early to be heading home. Ten pm? Really?
But Tony said Aunt May would flay him alive if he let Peter break curfew just because she’d be gone for a week, and to be honest, Peter 100% believed him. She’s definitely a bit of a momma bear.
Peter quietly opened one of the windows, only noticing Tony was there when he jumped in surprise.
“Jesus kid, you about scared the hell outta me. You gotta quit that, you know I have heart problems,” he said, tossing his phone to the side on the couch.
But oddly enough, Peter was having a hard time hearing him. Or at least focusing on hearing him. Probably his ADHD again.
“Heheh,” Peter said, his laugh feeling weak. What was he laughing at again? Man, he really should’ve taken his medication.
“Kid? You alright?” Peter ignored him, staring at something on the window he’d just climbed through. It was a footprint, but it looked all smeared, and oddly… red.
“Wassat?” he mumbled, staring at the bloody footprint, and feeling rather dizzy. Was this an ADHD thing? He couldn’t remember.
“Oh my god, Peter! Shit, kid you’re bleeding!” Tony said through the water that seemed to be surrounding Peter’s ears.
“Hmm?” Peter said. Then he looked down at himself and realized there was a deep cut along his side, and blood had leaked out and run all the way down his leg.
Tony was saying something else, grabbing his arms and trying to lead him somewhere, but Peter resisted. He didn’t want to get blood tracked all over the carpet.
“Pr’tty sure this stuff ‘s s’pposed to stay inside me,” Peter mumbled. But the sight of his own blood flowing out of him had made Peter dizzy, and he very suddenly wasn’t worrying much about the carpet anymore.
In fact, he wasn’t worrying about anything at all.
~~~
Peter’s side was rather sore when he woke up in a hospital bed, though he was more surprised by the hospital bed than he was about the ache. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position and winced as pain lanced up his side.
“Careful kiddo,” a voice said from the doorway. There was Tony, standing there with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “You don’t wanna rip a stitch.”
“Oh. Yeah that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t wanna, um, do that.” They stared at each other for a moment before Tony rolled his eyes and gave him a soft smile.
“What I wanna know, is how the hell you swung all the way to the tower without noticing you had a seven-inch long gash in your side,” he said.
“Um… ADHD?”
“Ha! Well whatever you were thinking about must’ve been pretty damn distracting,” Tony prompted. Peter grinned, thinking back.
“I met this little kid named Miles. He said he wanted to be Spider-Man like me. I told him I’d teach him if he ever did become Spider-Man, I was thinking about what I’d show him,” Peter said. Tony’s gaze softened as he walked over.
“Well that’s real nice of you kid. But, you know that even though that gash will heal by tomorrow I still gotta tell your Aunt about this, right?” he said. He held out a cup of strawberry Jell-O, which Peter took with a snort.
“Yeah yeah, but can we just save that for later? I think I should recover from this before going into another battle,” Peter said, making his own version of Miles’s doe eyes. Tony scoffed and ruffled Peter’s hair.
“Sure kid. Eat your Jell-O and we’ll go watch some Star Wars,” he said.
Peter grinned widely and ate his treat, too distracted by the warmth in his chest to care about the ache in his side.
#irondad#spider-man: into the spider-verse#tony stark#peter parker#irondad fanfiction#bad things happen bingo: doesn't realize they've been injured#spider-man#Iron Man#miles morales#tw: blood#Marko's Fanfiction
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The Radio Station - Chapter Three - Stay Another Hour or Two
A/N - Sorry this one’s a smidge late, guys. Been laid up a bit these last 48 hours.
19th of September, 2013
Unbeknownst to her, Matty had been just as excited about a second interview as she was. After the praise she had given both him and his music the first time, he had found himself a bit smitten. Waiting for the next time he was in London to hope that the station reached out again had been mildly nerve-wracking, but his patience had been worth it. It gave him the chance that he wanted. He had given her his number in the hopes that maybe she'd make a move. If she came to him first, that saved him a lot of trouble and allowed him to side-step any awkward tension if it turned out she wasn't into him. She hadn’t managed to get out to Reading around her other work obligations, but she’d let him know that she tried. He had hoped this would be the start of more frequent communication. But, they hadn't really had much of a chance to act on anything in that regard. Because as soon as the full-length album was out, the station wanted Matty back on the show.
“It feels like it was only yesterday that I was here.” Matty laughed from the seat across from her as she fiddled with a few things on her side of the desk.
“It’s only been a month, I think?” She mumbled, clearly focused on something.
“About that, if I recall.” He nodded.
“No George this time?” She asked absentmindedly.
“I'd rather have you all to myself.” She hummed a noise in response that made it hard for him to work out if his flirting had landed or not. But he did think that maybe she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. And... maybe blushing? “Been up to much in the last month?” He segued.
“Not particularly.” She said with a shrug. “You? Touring?” She asked back, but he skipped right over that.
“Haven't been painting the town red? Going on dates? Suddenly acquired a boyfriend?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, suddenly busying himself with his phone.
She let out an abrupt laugh as she finally looked over at him, “No, Matty.” He just nodded thoughtfully. “Come on, you dork. Let's do this.” She said, looking fairly amused by his antics as she pulled her headset back on.
“And we're back, with a voice a few of you might find familiar as he was on the show only a month ago.” She gestured to him to do a little introduction.
“Hi, it's Matthew Healy from The 1975.” He spoke in a calculated voice into his mic.
“Back again so soon?”
“That's what I get for complaining it was too long last time.” He said with a light laugh.
“But you've done a lot in a month! Your full length, self-titled album is out now, you played Reading and Leeds, and you're even playing at the O2 Sheperd's Bush Empire tomorrow.” She listed off.
“Yeah! We never stop, really.” He chuckled as he shook his head a bit. “The acceleration over the last six months has been crazy fast. But we’ve been a band for such a long time so it feels justified.”
“Your enthusiasm and motivation is truly next level.”
“Gotta keep the hype going, you know?”
“Has it left you guys feeling a bit worn out?” She questioned. “That sort of non-stop lifestyle would've burnt many people out by now.”
“Ah, no way! We’ve had five years of doing nothing. This is fun.” He grinned broadly. “I’ve got a break of about a week and a half over Christmas, but I’ve gotta move into a new flat. I’ve got loads of stuff to move. I had to buy luggage while on tour. I have so much fan stuff now – letters, drawings, puzzles of my face.” She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that and how surreal it must be.
“So, the album is out now. Have you been happy with how it was received?” She asked.
“Like everything that we do, it was totally down the middle. Half the critics absolutely loved it, half of them hated it. I think Vice called it the worst album of the year.” He said with a loud laugh. “It’s so funny how subjective music can be. But I don’t really care, you know. Our fans have embraced it massively.” He smiled.
“Well, it went to number one!” She reminded him.
“Yeah! That was pretty awesome. The fact that it went to number one is amazing.” He huffed with a look of giddy disbelief as he pulled a hand through his hair. “We didn’t really need any kind of statistical validation to be proud of that record, we were as proud of it as we could be as soon as we finished it. But it was nice to know that people still like good music.”
“I can imagine that would've been quite satisfying for you guys. It definitely deserved to reach number one.” She said with a nod.
“You've listened to it?” He asked in curiosity.
“Yeah, I’ve listened to it a bit.” She confirmed with a nod. “Actually, 'a bit' is probably an understatement.” She corrected.
“Oh really?” He blurted out eagerly before clearing his throat and trying to dial it back. “That’s cool.”
“Are you able to tell us a bit about the thought process behind the album? What ties it all together?” She questioned. He noticed she didn't have a notepad this time like she had previously.
“I don’t think there’s a concrete narrative that runs from the beginning to the end. It's not that sort of album. We knew we wanted to make a long album. Sixteen tracks, you know. But I suppose it’s all about me and my relationships, like the EPs…” He hummed for a moment as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “The album ended up being like a scrapbook of conversations and situations that kind of, when it was all put together, made this story of our youth? I think that’s what the album is.”
“Stylistically it’s all quite different, some of the songs sound like they could be from entirely different artists, let alone on the same album.” She noted.
“There’s a bit of a stylistic polarity, it’s quite genre-bending, the sounds.” He nodded in agreement. “But then again, we kind of wanted to make one of those records like the best pop records from the 80s. Like Michael Jackson on Bad. That was kind of the vibe we wanted to do. We didn’t pull any punches. We didn’t think we need to be a bit ‘cool’. We thought we’d just do exactly what we want.” He explained simply.
“That attitude seems to have resonated well with your fans.” She continued.
“Well, we wanted people to feel about our record the same way we felt about records that were really important to us. I want people to love the album, I want people to be able to not listen to the album because it reminds them of someone, I want it to bleed into humanity.” His passion for his music was unmistakable. She felt it was a shame that her interviews weren't filmed, so much of his personality and sheer enthusiasm came through in his expressions.
“It's interesting that you've been able to achieve that sort of appeal with something you've described as so personal and so heavily based around your own experiences.”
“The more specific you are, and the more honest you are about you, the more grandeur the idea becomes. Because if you give someone a really, really specific idea instead of something vague, they can read into it so much more.” He said thoughtfully. “It’s immediately captivating. Rather than a vague idealism that you may or may not have experienced. Whereas if you hear a really specific thing, hopefully across the album there will be something that someone could really,” He clicked his fingers with a look of sincerity, “immediately feel you’ve experienced.”
“You would've definitely gained some new fans now that the album is properly out. I believe I've even heard of a few big musicians singing your praises.” There was always seemingly some artist or other causing a stir on Twitter by tagging The 1975 in their tweets. “Do you guys have any biases towards someone who's famous being a fan? Or do you see all fans as equal?”
“Oh, well, you know, all fans are equal. I mean it’s nice to be validated by those you respect and interesting to be validated by those that you don’t. But that is a nice thing about it – when your heroes become your peers. But…” Matty made a face like he was trying to pick his words carefully, “I don’t really care about the whole celebrity thing very much, it doesn’t really mean anything. My parents are famous. I grew up around it. I kind of understand what it means – or more importantly, what it doesn’t.”
“Do you find that sort of celebrity complex of what that attention means gets to you?” She asked.
“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It's weird reading so much about yourself. Am I actually this celebrity person I see on my phone or am I me? I don’t really know.”
“Leading on from that then, how are you finding being a role model to so many people now that your celebrity status has grown so much?”
He instantly grimaced. “I’m really uncomfortable with it. Part of me thinks, it’s better they look up to me than a lot of people I know. But I shouldn’t have that responsibility as a 24 year old guy… y’know?” He huffed. “It’s hard for me, because I don’t really hold dear a lot of the values that fame presents. But the world of fame, the world of celebrity, has picked me up from a life of obscurity and put me into this whirlwind of money and bollocks and girls… I think we kind of invest in our own relationships a lot.” He stopped himself for a minute as he took a drink from the mug of tea she'd given him. “I don’t know what to say to a lot of these kids. The whole thing of becoming a figure of sexual desire, that’s understandable. That comes with the territory, that comes with young girls, that comes with them growing up. But the idea of me becoming a figure of intellectual desire? Something people look up to as almost an orator or a speaker or somebody with opinions? That makes me feel uncomfortable.” He shook his head as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Because I’m not this honest person that’s been depicted in the media. I’m very, very defiant about being honest lyrically, but that doesn’t come from a place of genuine lack of care – I’m actually really neurotic and insecure. The only reason those lyrics are like that is because I wrote that album before anyone knew who we were. I didn’t have to think 'am I being too honest?' ”
She paused for a moment as his words sank in. It hadn't been her intention to get him onto such a heavy topic, but he certainly seemed to have no trouble dissecting his thoughts on the matter and she was certain her listeners would be enjoying the insight. “Let's shift onto a lighter topic.” She started, knocking him back to reality. “I've probably heard interviewers ask you about the origin of the band name... three dozen times by now since I asked in our first interview?” Matty chuckled at that, but urged her to continue. “Is it validating to know people are so interested?”
“Good question… I don’t know. I think because… I get a bit tired of it. “ He admitted truthfully. “I really, really appreciate it when someone looks at an interview from my perspective and how it might be for me, because I’m the one who does the majority of them. I don’t know why people are so interested in the name. But then I think, hold on a second, if I didn’t know where a bands name came from would I be genuinely interested? And maybe I would… I think people like to understand music. They like music to be something that’s really consumable and palatable and understandable. Whereas we’re the total antithesis of that, aren’t we?”
“I'm almost tired of hearing it come up in interviews.”
He laughed loudly, “Yeah, so am I.” He nodded. “So. Am. I.”
“That seems like a good point to cut away to a few tracks.” She said with a sigh as she pushed herself back into her chair. “Do you have any requests off the album, Matty?” She asked.
He thought about this for a moment, “What's your favourite off the album?” He asked with a smirk.
“At the moment? I've been listening to Girls a lot.” She answered as she began queuing it up.
“Then let's hear that.” He nodded decisively.
“You heard it, folks. This is Girls off The 1975's self-titled album.” She said into her microphone as she watched Matty take his headset off and sink back into his chair. “Sorry for getting you onto such an intense tangent there.”
“It's all right, I'd rather have an intellectual conversation than have to repeatedly explain the band name.” He said with a short laugh. “That's why you do good interviews - you ask proper questions.” He added as he finished the tea.
They chatted a bit about what they'd been listening to lately, what bands they thought were going to headline next year's festivals, before eventually the interview picked up again. “We're here with Matty of The 1975, and just before we heard their song Girls. Now, Matty,” She leaned forward, and for a moment the look in her eyes made him feel like he was in for another hectic question. “I heard a lot of controversy about the video clip for that song being in colour.”
He couldn't stop himself from chuckling. “Yeah... But it wasn't our first video in colour!” He said defensively. “When we put out the album version for Sex, that came from the idea that everything got so big so quickly, but we still wanted the album version out there before the album came out, you know, to impose our identity and say this is who we are. With that we did a new video for it and it was in colour, it was the first video in colour and everyone went mental. We were made aware that a lot of kids were saying stuff that we were ‘conforming to a major label’ you know, the whole cliché’d band getting too big.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And we got obsessed by that idea because it’s… so not true. It’s so ridiculous. And we wanted to make a video about that – about conforming to a major label. Because music videos are silly, we wanted to make a tongue in cheek video. We just wanted to make a pop video that was really aware it was a pop video. We knew it was obviously gonna split people down the middle but… whatever…” He finished with a shrug. “It was funny.”
“I agree, I thought it was pretty funny.” She replied with a smile. “What do you hope people are getting out of the album now that it's out there for them to listen to?”
“I can only hope that they react in the same way that I do. Because I can only make music for me. Therefore I can only expect people who are likeminded to embrace it in the same way that I do. When we finished Robbers, I cried my heart out. When we finished Settle Down, we went on a night out on the Friday, and it was like five in the morning and I made the engineer steal the keys to the studio and we went back and broke in to listen to the record all the way through. If a song doesn’t make me laugh through joy, or it doesn’t make me dance, or it doesn’t make me cry, or it doesn’t provoke me to be really introspective, then we just fuck it off. Just leave it.” He answered, before quickly trying to summarise himself. “I want our music to make people think about their own life more than our music.”
“That makes sense. The best music always reminds you of specific moments and people in your life.”
“Exactly.” He grinned.
“I heard rumblings that you're already working on the next album?” She asked, watching as he nodded a bit. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less given how little time off you allow yourself.”
He let out a laugh, “Yeah, you'd be right. Although, we've had this one ready to go for nearly a year and had some material leftover from it that didn't quite fit in, as well. The new album sounds mental already… it’s very... weird…” He frowned down at the desk as he played the tracks through in his head. “I can’t really tell you what it sounds like. I think it’ll probably be closer to the EPs. We’re so confused now about our lives, that I think this record will be a genuine representation of our confusion in different cultures and different cities and different mindsets.” He explained. “But who cares? We’re only making it because we wanna make it.”
“And from what you've said, song-writing is a big part of your expression.” She prompted.
“One hundred percent. I can’t have a record that is so self-deprecating and self-aware and then be interviewed and not have that translate in the way that I am. Because this band is a genuine extension of my identity, all of the music is me trying to figure myself out lyrically.”
“Has that process taught you much?” She questioned.
“Yeah. It's helped me get my head straight about a lot of stuff. But mainly I’ve really learned that I have a creative responsibility. I used to think I didn’t have any responsibilities when it came to my art, because it was mine. But I’ve realised that so many people genuinely invest in it. I do have a responsibility for it at least to be as good as whatever preceded it… hopefully better.”
“All right, we're nearly out of time.” She sighed, straightening up in her chair. He threw a disappointed look her way, forcing a smile out of her. “But before we call it, last time we spoke was right before Reading and Leeds. How was it?” She asked.
He let out a bewildered sound before speaking, “Reading and Leeds was like a culmination of everything that has happened. It was amazing.” He started with a faraway look in his eyes. “We went to that festival – it was the first festival we ever went to as a band. Just to watch. You don’t expect more people to come and see you over the course of one festival period, because it seems too fast. But we were definitely pulling much bigger crowds by the end of the Summer, it was mental.” He said as he shook his head in disbelief.
“I told you that you guys would be really hard to get a hold of in the future.” She reminded him. “We've had Matthew Healy of The 1975 on the show with us discussing their latest self-titled album. It's out now in stores. Go do yourselves a favour and give it a listen. Thanks, as always, for chatting, Matty.” She said with a sharp nod.
“Always a pleasure.” He said with a grin.
By now, she was expecting him to hang around as she talked through her outro and switched back to the music. He stood up and walked around from his side of the desk, leaning against the wall as she faced him.
“So, where are you off to now?” She asked as she pulled her headset off and placed it on the desk. “Gonna go fill up your free time with overworking yourself more?” She added with a playful smile.
He scoffed, “We don’t get free time. When we do have free time, it’s in London, where we don’t live, when we’re in a hotel, and you have one day off which you do your washing in.” He answered as he rolled his eyes. “But, I assume that you do live near London?”
“Around these parts, yes.” She said vaguely. “Why?”
“We're stuck up here for a couple of days, if you wanted to get a drink or anything.” He suggested with a casual shrug.
“I appreciate the offer, but stand by what I said before.” She started. “It's easier to keep work separate. I've seen it get messy for colleagues.” She elaborated.
He nodded in understanding. “All right, well...” He let out the breath he was holding. “You have my number.” She watched him walk out of the studio as she tried to get her heart rate back under control.
* * *
She probably should've known better than to go out that night knowing that Matty was around London. But her friends had invited her out for a drink, and it was Thursday, it was close enough to the end of the week. And most importantly she felt like she needed a drink after being in such close confinement with that man. Thankfully, her professionalism was easy enough to maintain at work (despite his best attempts at flirting). However, when she was faced with the dilemma of George and Matty walking into the bar they'd been in for the last couple of hours, after she'd already had a few drinks, the lines between work and social life were suddenly a lot less obvious. She shrank back down into her seat slightly, hoping that he wouldn't notice she was here and she wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. But it was too late. George noticed her and instantly pointed her out to his mate. Fuck sake, George. Matty flashed her a friendly wave, which she returned anxiously. At least he didn't walk over. He and George walked across to the other side of the bar and started playing pool.
She mentally checked out of her friend's conversation after that - finding it too hard to not focus on Matty when he was in the room. The magnetism he radiated was annoyingly undeniable. She nodded occasionally and made approving noises here and there when there was a pause in the conversation for a response. But eventually she was dragged back to reality and actually had to give a response when she heard one of her friends calling her name. She looked over to them with her eyebrows raised, asking them to repeat the question.
“I said,” They laughed before repeating themselves, “we’re going to grab some food down the road. Are you coming?”
“Uh…” She mumbled, suddenly meeting Matty's gaze across the room. “No. I’m not hungry.” She shook her head. “Might hang around here for a bit.”
“Suit yourself.”
Her friends grabbed their things, promptly leaving the bar and thus leaving her to her own devices. She briefly considered that staying here might be a bad idea, but that thought was quickly squashed by the smile Matty threw her way. “Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned as she walked over to where he and George were standing.
“Should've known you'd find me somehow or another.” She said in amusement as she watched George sink one of the smalls.
“Hey, don't blame me.” He held up his hands in defence. “This bar was his idea. Right, George?” He asked as he turned back to the table.
“He's right.” The drummer nodded.
“We just wanted to get out of the hotel for a bit.” He explained with a look of innocence. “You wanna get in on the next game?” He added, suddenly looking eager.
“Sure.” She shrugged as she pulled a barstool over and took a seat.
As she watched them play out their game, she noticed that George was a much better player than Matty was. “You don't seem to be very good at this.” She noted as Matty missed another shot.
“It's still our first game. I need to warm up.” He replied as he rolled his shoulders.
She hummed thoughtfully, “I dunno, George is kicking your arse.”
“George, tell her that I'm not that bad at pool.” He said with a frown.
He shook his head, “I’m not getting involved. This is between you two.”
“I'll show you.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a sip from his beer. “Next game. You and me.” He said with a nod.
“You're on.”
The game took a little longer to finish up than what she had initially expected as Matty tried to hone his skills. She ended up excusing herself to get another drink right before George sunk the last shot.
“Good game, Matt.” He said as he cracked his back. “I'm gonna head back to the hotel. You coming?” He asked as he nudged the singer in the ribs.
Matty eyed the girl standing at the bar. “Nah, I'm gonna stay for a bit.” He answered.
“All right. Don't kick on too late.” He said as he clapped a hand down on his friend's shoulder. “Remember, we've got a show tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah. I won't.” He said as he brushed off George's hand. Matty racked up the balls and set up the table again as she came over with her drink.
“Where's George?” She asked, quickly looking around.
“Went back to the hotel.” He answered abruptly.
“Oh.” Was all she could muster in response. No longer having the buffer of someone else suddenly made this situation feel quite... different.
“I've got a wager for you to prove I'm not as bad at this as you think.” He said as he held out the pool cue to her. She raised an eyebrow in question. “If you can beat me in a game, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“And if I don’t beat you?” She questioned with a sceptical look.
“Then you’ll have to buy your own drink to have with me.” He shot back, holding her gaze. He offered out his hand and waited for her to shake on the bet. After a moment of weighing up her options, she shook his hand firmly. “You break.”
For a man who wanted to make a bet on his skills, they hadn't really seemed to have improved any since the last game. After about ten minutes of playing, he had only sunk one ball in comparison to her four. It seemed that he was practically handing out free shots.
“I feel like you’re losing on purpose.” She accused eventually.
“What gives you that impression?” He asked as he shot the cue ball directly in between every possible ball he could’ve hit.
“What were you even aiming for just then?” She huffed with a laugh.
“I was trying to do a bounce shot off the cushion into the five.” He lied as he took a drink. “Your shot.” He handed the cue back to her.
She looked back at the table, seeing that the five was nowhere near where he ended up. “Sure.”
“So...” He started, leaning back against the table. “I thought you said earlier that you like to 'keep work separate'?” He asked casually as he busied himself looking at his fingernails.
“What a good thing neither of us are working right now, then.” She muttered as she sank another ball.
“Hmm, seems that way.”
“And I didn't exactly intend to hang out with you this evening.” She added, taking her second shot and holding the cue out to him. “It's not my fault you invaded my Thursday night.”
“You say that like you're not having a good time.” He frowned as he took it back.
“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't having a good time.” She answered honestly. As soon as he heard that, he sank his final shot. He watched as the eight went straight into the corner pocket. “You… you just lost the game?” She asked in confusion.
“What a shame.” He sighed. “I guess I owe you a drink.” He said with a shrug as he brushed past her and walked to the bar. She should probably feel a bit more confronted about the fact that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her, but her brain was too clouded with the knowledge that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her.
They continued playing pool as Matty brought over the next round, and for some sudden reason, they seemed to be a lot more evenly matched. It was unquestionable how easily the conversation flowed between them, and it was also pretty easy to see the chemistry quickly forming.
“I'm not as good with girls as people think I am.” He debated as he took his shot, after hearing her prattle on about how much women fussed over him on the internet.
“You don't need to be good with girls at this point.” She said as she rolled her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you realise how many people want to date you, Matty.” She laughed. “I mean, you’ve got a queue longer than the one to get into Glastonbury.” He couldn't help but join in with her laughter at the reference.
“That doesn't mean anything if I'm not attracting the right people.” He pointed out.
“What sort of people are you aiming to attract?” She asked in an attempt at nonchalance, intentionally looking away from him to hide her nerves.
“Someone like minded. Other musicians, people in the industry,” He paused, waiting until he had her attention before he finished his sentence, “cute radio presenters. That sort of thing.”
As her brain ticked into overdrive at this, she heard the bartender call out for anyone wanting last drinks. It was getting late. “I really need to be getting back home.” She groaned.
“Ah, but the bar doesn't close for another hour!” Matty protested.
“I've got work tomorrow.” She said, shaking her head. “And you,” She punctuated her sentence by jabbing him in the shoulder. “have a show.” He gently took her hand in his, using it as an excuse to pull her closer to him.
“I've done worse than play a show while I'm tired.” He argued, trying to convince her to stay a little longer.
“Well, I have a level of professionalism to uphold.” She smiled back at him. “When are you back in London next?”
He thought about this for a moment, “January.”
“That's forever away.” She said with a frown.
“Good thing you've got my number then.” She nodded slightly, suddenly finding herself losing her voice when she noticed his expression shift. He leaned in closer, and before she'd really had time to properly process it or kiss him back, he'd already moved away. “Keep in touch, love.” He grinned.
Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists
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Haven’t met you yet | Mark
Masterlist (3/4) | part1 - part2 - part4
Starring: MK x You
Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate
Total WC: 2194
You nearly puked your guts out to the sight of Jackson sticking to Eunhee and hugging her like forever has been robbed from them. You failed to confide to your best friend about what happened to you in the last 24 hours. So as not to spoil their couple time together, you chose to not disturb them and just mingle with all the kids in the sweet treats section. You love kids so much you play Santa and distributed macarons to each one of them. As expected, most of your close friends and guests brought their own boyfriends, if not, their own husbands and it was a nice show to witness, with sarcasm aside. Thanks to Jackson’s little cousins, they keep you entertained with their bubbly personality.
“One with the kids, sure you’re missing the party in the adult section, no?” The sight of a guy clad in a formal white dress shirt, tucked in a black denim pants partnered with a classic chuck taylor, and a gray winter coat, welcomed your eyes. Guys who dress fashionably is such a head turner for you.
“Actually, they keep me company so I’m having fun to be honest.” You replied, feeling all the weird sensation cascading across your spine. You feel a bit nauseous whenever guys approach you. You don’t know if you even want to be with a guy right now, after your embarrassing experience last night.
“My cousins here are a bunch of nuisance, you’ll get tired of them soon.” He picked one matcha macaron from the aisle and took a bite of it. You observed his expression. A smile crept up to his face and you caught sight of Eunhee in a distant, gossiping to Jackson that you’re having a moment with his cousin. You certainly know that they’re mentally pairing you up already and you are growing nervous about the plans that they are possibly plotting behind your back.
“You like it? I bought them all the way from a café near my workplace that sells classic macarons just like the original ones from Paris.” He nodded in approval as you watch him took another piece, this time it’s strawberry. That’s your favorite flavor among the rest and you can really tell that the sweet tooth runs on Jackson’s bloodline by how his cousins, from the little chubby ones and the grown up beside you, munch on your favorite treat.
“I never really eat macarons, but you introduced me into it. You deserve a recognition, uhm?” He lifted his hand for a handshake. He doesn’t know your name yet so you took his hand and introduced yourself right away.
“It’s Y/n, Eunhee’s best friend. Thank you for the recognition by the way. Well, you come here with a date?” You’re mentally tiptoeing above the thin ice. It’s better to assume that this cute guy over here is already taken, I mean with his looks, he's totally a charmer, you thought to yourself.
“I didn’t bring anyone with me, so I assume you also come along on your own, no?” Green light. Okay, you need to calm down. This isn’t like any of your past blind dates but first meetups are usually nerve wracking and scary so you played the innocent heroine that you are and chose to just go with the flow seeing how Eunhee and Jackson are staring at you maliciously from Mark’s back, you know they were able to receive the death notes you are sending them via telepathy.
“That explains it.” It’s not that you had a thing with cute guys, but maybe you just discovered it right now. You can tell he’s a decent one, a cool and random Asian-American import from the west and maybe if you’re an ice cream, you already turned into liquid by the way he stares at you.
“I don’t know anything about you yet, but would you trust a complete stranger to celebrate your Christmas eve with? If you’re up for it, we’ll leave this party right away because I can tell that you’re going to get sick from all these couples outnumbering us.” Have you been a good girl this year? You didn’t include this guy on your Christmas list but Santa rewarded you without even asking for it.
“I’m putting my trust on you knowing that Jackson is a good guy so does his cousin. I'll sue him and he’ll answer for the damages and fines in case you failed to bring me back in good shape.” You both let out a hefty chuckle earning glares from your best friend and her boyfriend. You’ve decided to pursue your spontaneous trip with Mark and the next thing you know you’re already closing the front door upon your exit even before the two of them could react to your great and grand escape.
----
He took you on a ride away from the busy and bustling streets of Seoul. You're thrilled to find out that he actually brought you to Namsan Tower, the highest peak in the city. You're awed expression cannot suffice the picturesque panoramic scenery of Seoul unfolding in front of your very eyes when you entered the observatory on the top most floor. You were unable to talk all of a sudden and your heart is brimming with unexplained strings of emotion as you kept on taking pictures and videos of the breathtaking place that sent your eyes into a food coma.
"I only went to N tower once, or maybe twice but that was during the day and I have no idea that this is how it looks at night. It's a miss, nobody will be able to witness this scene on a Christmas eve the way we're seeing it right now." You forgot about your shameful episodes of last night's happenings and your worries disappeared in just an instant.
"I kind of paid for tonight's reservation when I arrived here in Korea a week ago, with the hopes of spending Christmas only to myself. Consider yourself lucky, you've managed to join me on this one-time event. Heck, the price I paid for is totally worth it. Come here and try this." He urged you to look on the telescope, and to your surprise, you're taking in every aspect of the city in a bird's eye perspective. Everything you look at is really stunning. Like you never really imagined that perfection exists for real until tonight and you're experiencing it with a random guy whom you've only met an hour ago. Your eyes met his and you wished you aren't redder than a rotten tomato for looking like a lost deer caught on a headlight.
"The view here is really pretty.” He gave you a smile, too charming for your own consumption.
“It really is.” He’s even prettier than the view. You can only sense your guy-o-meter raising for Mark. Good lord, is this a sign? Your mind is now ready to tick the ideal guy boxes on your list.
“We shouldn't keep this New York style pizza from waiting while it is hot.” He chuckled, like the cute kid that he is. There is something with his unique laugh that you really don’t mind hearing at all. Is he older than me? Please, I don’t want to date someone younger than me.
“Okay, sure kid.” You followed him as he sat on the ground in a dimly lit room radiating a romantic atmosphere under the starry and chilly skies of Seoul. This is not a date, but a friendly escape out of boredom planned by two single hearts on a Christmas eve. As if you’re two partners in crime, sitting on one of the highest skyscrapers in town, while sharing a box of pizza. It’s just that you aren’t Bonnie and neither he is your Clyde but you're loving the idea of him as someone whom you can rely on.
“I’m older than you, silly.” The sight of a wine bottle behind him caught your attention and wondered where it came from. He noticed you eyeing the prize so he did the honor and poured you a glass of wine while you’re devouring your slice of pizza. You never imagined that eating pizza is too romantic and one for the books.
“Any proof that you’re actually above 25? Cause you really look young. With that face, you can qualify for a student discount on public transports and still save money for your commute.” You want to make sure that he’s at least 5 years older than you. You prefer dating someone older than you because they always say that a guy's maturity is a year delayed for his age.
“Trust me, I just know. I’m old enough to buy a house and enter into casinos, I guess.” He gave you a wink and you felt a gush of strong wind blew your senses away. He’s totally a Romeo and you took a swig of wine while observing him secretly.
“So you’re a gambler? I might have been spending my time with some kind of a mafia leader and still have no clue about it.” He’s laughing at it again. I might have a talent with making cute guys laugh and that’s an asset I only discovered right now.
“What, no! But my dad is a big spender in casinos. My duty is to look out for him and take him home before he could even bet our fortune with his leisure. I could always hear him say ‘It has gotta be all or nothing’. He’s born for taking risks and maybe I got that gene from him that’s why.” He stretched his legs and sat like he’s on a photoshoot. He’s not a model but he can beat the professional ones even without the need for screening.
“What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken in your life so far?” You folded your legs as you watch him wonder with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He poured a glass for himself and you noticed that he used the same glass that you drink on.
“I believe we’re taking risks everyday in our lives. The only difference is the distance of our leap towards taking or not taking chances at all. Like when you’re playing a game, everything starts with equal opportunities. It’s a race to the witch mountain. The first one to gamble takes it all. You gotta be the predator of every tournament and you gotta be the last one standing in a survival of the fittest. If you’re brave enough to take the earliest start, you can use that advantage to ace your end game. It’s all about timing and investing. Win or lose streak. There is no such thing as a grey area when it comes to taking risks. You don’t get to tie with anybody. Either you’ll win or lose. You just have to trust your instincts and roll your dice like everyday is your last day on earth. If I go for something, I go all in. No half-baked decisions. Because my father taught me that risks equates to rewards and I’m all up for the extremes of both worlds. That’s the one thing I’m best at. I know how to play the game nice and fair because I know how to measure the corners of a square and even the distance around the circle which is not visible to the naked eye. After all, he considers me as his lucky charm. That explains my presence to his endless casino nights. And he hardly ever loses if I’m with him. Sure, Pops are probably waiting for me at our doorstep in LA right now. Too bad, his son is on the other side of the world, taking his own risk of a lifetime.” You left with no words to say. He’s too deep, a food for the soul. Guys like him are the ones that can be displayed in museums. He’s a delicate art and nobody should be allowed to touch him but the curator. And you’d want to take that role.
“What if you lose? If you go all in and you lose everything all at once? Have you experienced it already?” you asked, admiring the tiny mole sitting under his left eye. You decided to take your second glass of wine.
“The best thing about losing is that you’ve tried. I don’t take failures as an excuse for not trying again and taking another risk the next day. If I lose, so what? That only means you’re brave because you grow stronger with every fall that you take. Like a bamboo tree, it only bends but it doesn’t break. Life is all about swimming against the current of uncertainties and finding yourself floating on top of your insecurities.” As if he’s summarizing all the lessons in life, you’d always want to go for the front seat. He’s a walking self-help book, and maybe Mark Manson’s book of ‘the subtle art of not giving a fuck’ would have to sit longer in my shelf for the meantime. I got a risk-taker author Mark, right here and I got nothing to worry about.
#marktuan#got7#ahgase#mark#mark tuan#got7 mark#got7 marktuan#got7 fanfic#got7 fluff#got7 imagines#fluff#kpop#kpop fluff#fanfic#boyfriend#got7 jackson#jackson#got7jackson
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My Whirlpool of a Life
Ships: Kaminari/OC
Word Count: ~2.k
I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.
Masterlist
Chapter 4: Study Group
The rest of my first day was boring compared to working on our special moves. English had never been my strong suit. There were just too many words. Math was a struggle, but at least I somewhat understood what was going on. When it came to Modern Literature, it turned out I’d already read most of the books on the syllabus.
Foundational Hero Studies was at least a little interesting. We ended up talking about my parents, by pure coincidence. All Might had no idea that I was their child until the end of class, when Midoriya whispered it to him.
He’d started apologizing profusely, but I’d stopped him.
“It’s fine. A lot of people tend not to talk about them around me, but you praised them so much for doing what they could. It was nice, hearing something so good about them.”
School was finally over, and most of us were heading back to the dorms.
Mina skipped up to my side, linking with my left arm. “So? How was your first day?”
“Kind of boring, to be honest.” I admitted, hearing her laugh. “Minus working on our special moves of course. That was super neat, even though I didn’t get quite as much time.”
“Yeah, I saw you were sparring with Aizawa!”
Kirishima stopped and turned around. “You did so good! He’s really fast, and you nailed him.”
My face flushed. “I didn’t mean to leave a welt though.”
“It means you did a good job.” Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Just accept the compliment. Keep improving and maybe I’ll let you fight me.”
I tilted my head. “Wouldn’t the water just nullify your explosions?”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
Iida cleared his throat as Kirishima held Bakugo back. “While it wouldn’t nullify the explosions, it would significantly reduce them. Perhaps if you could create ice like Todoroki, you could freeze over his gauntlets.”
“If you remember, I beat IcyHot the last time.”
Kaminari appeared on my other side, grabbing my hand. “Bakugo, lay off her.”
He growled, but walked off with Kirishima. “Whatever, extras.”
“How does his quirk even work?” I said out loud.
Midoriya immediately launched into a detailed explanation of his quirk. It seemed like he had the most notes on Bakugo, which I thought was interesting.
“How do you know so much?”
“Oh, we were friends when we were kids.” He half-hid behind his notebook. “I’ve been studying his quirk for years.”
“I’ll definitely be coming to you if I need any information about anyone.”
Uraraka showed up out of nowhere, stealing Deku away. She was a little flustered as she talked, all but confirming the crush she had on him.
Speaking of crushes, Kaminari linked his fingers through mine. “Wanna help me study?”
“God, I think I need help studying.” I thought back to Math class. “Literature is my best subject. The others…not so much.”
“Momo does a study group if you need help!” Mina flashed me a smile. “She’s really helped us improve our grades. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined us, as long as you don’t distract Kaminari too much.”
“Hey!”
“Your grades will only get worse if you ogle at your girlfriend when you’re trying to study.”
I batted my eyelashes at Kaminari, laughing as his face went pink. “I can’t help being irresistible.”
“How are you two this cute already? No fair.” It looked like Hagakure had caught up, and was crossing her arms. “I want a relationship like that.”
“You just gotta have that spark.” Flicking his fingers out, Kaminari sent a shower of sparks out.
Hagakure shrieked. “Careful!”
“Oh, relax. That’s hardly enough wattage for you to feel anything but a little tingle.” He ran a hand through his hair, the static making it stick up slightly. “I have wayyyy more than that running through me on a good day.”
I blinked. “Is that even safe?”
“I can handle it, Dew Drop, no need to worry about me.”
“Dew Drop? That’s too cute!”
We climbed the steps of the dorms, heading back inside. It was refreshing to be back in the cool air. The heat wasn’t helping me regain any energy I had expended in training.
“Catch you in a bit.” Kaminari kissed my knuckles and walked off, leaving me blushing.
Momo walked up to me before I could make a break for my room. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you might want to join our study group?”
“If that’s okay.”
“The more the merrier!” Her smile lit up her whole face. “Do you like tea? I usually make some for everyone. Oh, and we usually meet about a half hour after class ends, so everyone can relax, but so they don’t forget what we learned completely.”
“I’m not too picky about my tea, so whatever you choose is going to be great, I’m sure.” I hoisted my bag up a little higher on my shoulder. “And I’ll meet you here in half an hour then? Or…”
“Oh, at the table.” She gestured to the other room. “It helps keep everyone focused. Though I suppose I’ll have to keep you and Kaminari apart. Or maybe not, you might be able to motivate him.”
“We can try a few ways, see what works?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon!”
I headed up to my room, glad to get a few tranquil moments to myself. The fountain bubbled away as I meditated. Once I was in a more calm mindset, I put away the stuff I didn’t need help with, before heading down to join the others.
“Oh, am I late?”
Everyone was already sitting in what I could only assume was their specific seats.
Momo leapt to her feet. “Oh I asked them to come a bit early! I was trying to figure out the best place to put you.”
“We decided here!” Mina pulled out a chair next to her, and across from Kaminari. “Near the people you’re the most comfortable with so far.”
“Thanks guys!” I took my seat, grabbing my books out of my bag. “I want to get to know everyone eventually. But for right now…”
“We get it! There’s a lot of us.” Sero gave me a smile. “Your quirk is amazing, by the way. You’d probably knock me flat in seconds.”
“Oh, thanks!” I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “I’m still working on control, but for the most part I know what I’m doing.”
“It looked like you had control to me!” Momo tilted her head.
“For now, yeah.”
I didn’t want to talk about my lack of control, which Momo must have realized. She clapped her hands together and got us started.
We worked individually and only asked a question when we got stuck. Anyone who was good at the subject we were on would jump in and help.
This led to me finishing my homework fairly quickly.
“Oh! I’m done.”
“Can you help me out with some of the Foundational Hero Studies work?” Sero looked about ready to throw his paper across the room. “Um, if you can. It’s about your parents.”
“I can try.”
“So it says they were trying to hold off this Muscular guy.” Sero pointed to a picture of said villain.
“That question, right.” I’d just finished that one. “Should they have called again for backup or held him off?”
“Why didn’t they call for backup? They were outgunned in every way.”
The pipes above me rattled as I felt my control start to slip. I sucked in a deep breath. Sero wasn’t insulting them, he was just asking a question. “There were still civilians in the way. Kids. If they had split to call for backup, there was a chance the civilians would’ve gotten hurt. Or potentially killed.”
Sero reviewed the footage again. I looked away. “By the storefront.”
“Oh!” He finally spotted them. The glare from the screen moved and I looked back to see he’d turned it away from me. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I waved a hand, accidentally sending water flying down the table. “Shit.”
There were cries of surprise until I waved my hand again, putting it back into the glass. “I’m just gonna -”
“Please stay?” The look in Kaminari’s eyes absolutely made me melt. I nodded, moving over to the empty chair next to him. He linked our fingers together, putting our joined hands on the table.
“So Momo, I’m stuck on this math question.” He changed the subject, squeezing my hand slightly.
The study session continued. I put my other arm on the table, laying on it so I could look at everyone. Mina made a face at me, making me giggle. I stuck my tongue out as retaliation.
After a while, I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke up to gentle zaps as Kaminari poked my cheek. “Psst, Dew Drop. Dinner’s ready.”
“What if I just sleep instead?”
“Nope, come on, you gotta eat.”
He tugged on my arm until I stood up, frowning at him. “I was comfy.”
“We can snuggle on the couch when you’re done eating.”
“Fineeeee.”
Kaminari smiled at me, pulling me towards the kitchen. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”
He made me sit at the table, grabbing me a bowl of stew, before sliding it in front of me. “Please eat.”
I dug in, not realizing how hungry I was until the delicious smell hit my nose. Before long I’d powered through my bowl.
“Is there more?”
“You’re the first girl I’ve seen eat like that.” Kaminari said as I got up to grab seconds.
I filled up my bowl before sitting across from him, gently sliding my foot against his. “Get used to it.”
Redness spread across his face as I played footsie with him under the table. “Uh, ye-yeah. I’ve got a lot of new stuff to get used to, huh?”
“I do too though.” I pointed out, eating slower now. “We’re in this together.”
“For better or worse.”
“Isn’t that when you get married?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sent me a wink, making me blush. “It’s only a matter of time.”
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Home - Part 2
To say the girls loved their matching PJ's and the idea of movie night was an understatement, they loved it even more when they saw me wearing the same....It was the cutest thing ever.
We had already watched Frozen and now they wanted to watch The Little Mermaid, god this used to be my favourite as a kid! So now i was snuggled on the sofa under a chunky blanket with Brook and Allie singing along with the movie, Rosie had been fast asleep in the arm chair since halfway through Frozen.
"Knock knock!" Came the now familiar sound of Steve's voice, it made me jump at first but once i realised it was him i turned and smiled.
"Hey Steve, what you doing here?"
"Well i came to see James but I'm guessing his working late?"
"Yeah, he asked me to stay with the girls tonight. He doesn't know what time he'll be back"
"Right.... and hey! Am i getting no hugs from my girls?"
"We're comfy uncle Steve" Brooke moaned as she cuddled up to me more under the blanket.
"We watching The Little Mermaid!" Allie said not taking her eyes of the TV.
"What? The Little Mermaid?? Thats my favourite! Can i stay and watch too?"
"Yeah! You can sit next to me" Brook lifted the edge of the blanket for him and he quickly settled in next to her.
"Are you guys wearing matching PJs?? Thats so cool!! I want some!" Steve laughed looking over at me.
"I dont think they do them in your size Steve" i laughed shaking my head at this huge man wanting to wear pink unicorn pj's!
"Well thats not fair!"
"Shhhh watch the movie uncle Steve!" Allie suddenly said leaning forward to look at him.
"Sorry sweetheart I'm gonna shut up now" he sniggered settling in to watch the movie.
After the movie finished, to which Steve sang along with us! The girls wanted to make a fort!
"Girls you should be going to bed its getting late"
"Please Y/N" they both said jumping up and down infront of me.
"Come on Y/N" Steve added leaning against the door frame "how can you say no to that?"
"Fine! But uncle Steve can help because I'm terrible at making forts"
"Well its a good job I'm great at making forts!"
"Fine, you make the fort and i'll make the hot chocolate"
"Deal" he beamed before leaving the room in search for what he needed.
When i came back in Steve had thrown some blankets over the back of the sofa and a couple of dining room chairs, cushions scattered on the floor.
"Tada!" He held his arms out looking pleased with his work.'
"Cute, gotta be honest uncle Steve i was expecting a little more from you" i teased placing the hot chocolate down on the table.
"Ouch you hurt me!"
"Sorry" i laughed at him trying to look like he was hurt by my comment.
"Come on!!" Allie said excitedly grabbing my hand and pulling me with her into the fort.
"Okay okay I'm coming"
"You come too Uncle Stevie!"
Steve cleared his throat and made his way over as well, i could have sworn i saw a slight blush on his cheeks.
"Well this is pretty great Steve i have to admit" i turned to him and smiled.
"Thank you, i worked with what i had"
"You know they wont wanna take this down right? Im sure James wont be too happy with a fort in his living room full time"
"He'll love it dont worry, as long as his girls are happy he wont mind"
"Im blaming you if he gets mad" i nudged him playfully.
"Oh i see how it is, throw me to the wolves huh?"
"His your best friend, I'm sure you can get away with it"
"Y/N?" Allie asked suddenly looking up at me with big blue eyes that were exactly like her dads.
"Yes sweetheart?"
"Do you live with us now?"
"No, i just look after you while your daddy works"
"Oh. So where do you live?"
"I live in a farm house not far from here"
"A farm?? Are there animals there??"
"Erm, well i dont have any but the field at the back of my house has some horses"
"Wow! Can i see them?"
"I'll have to check with your dad first"
"If he says yes we can see them though?" Brooke asked looking excited.
"Sure, but only if your dad says its okay"
"Like he could say no to you" Steve teased earning himself another nudge to his side.
"Ow!"
"As if that hurt you big baby" i chuckled before crawling out if the fort to get the hot chocolate. As i turned to hand out the mugs i saw James standing in the doorway looking amused.
"Hi" he smiled as he dropped his briefcase and jacket on the chair.
"Hi.... sorry about the mess the girls wanted to build a fort"
"Its fine, you did good"
"Actually i didnt" i nodded towards the opening and James looked in laughing when he saw Steve inside with the girls.
"I thought no boys were allowed?"
"Im not sure Steve counts..... he wanted matching unicorn pjs too"
"Y/N that was supposed to be a secret! Im gonna loose all my street cred now"
"Like you had any to start with punk" James replied grinning at his friend.
"Would you like some hot chocolate James?"
"Id love some"
"Here you have this one and i'll go make another batch real quick" i handed him the mug that was meant to be mine.
"Are you sure...."
"Yeah its no problem, you should check out the fort too" i laughed before heading to kitchen.
Not long after the hot chocolate the girls were fast asleep. James carried Allie up to bed while Steve took Brook leaving me with Rosie. I was the first one back downstairs and thought id start cleaning up the living room before heading to bed.
"Hey leave that, i'll sort it out in the morning" James said from behind.
"Its fine i dont mind"
"Just leave it, have a beer with us" he held out a bottle to me as he and Steve came in "you deserve it".
"Okay, thanks" i accepted the beer and went to sit on the sofa under the blanket again.
"So you and the girls have a good night?" James asked sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, Steve had already taken the arm chair.
"It was great Buck, you really missed out" Steve answered before i could making us laugh.
"Why are you even here?"
"I was bored so i thought id come see my oldest friend, but you were working so i stayed for movie night"
"Couldn't turn down The Little Mermaid could ya Steve" i chuckled taking a swig of beer.
"The Little Mermaid? Again Steve really?"
"Hey Ariel's hot!"
"Rightttt" James rolled his eyes at Steve before looking over at me shaking his head "how about you Y/N? You have a good night looking after four kids?"
"They were good as gold"
"The matching PJ's are cute, bet the girls loved that"
"Yeah they were a little excited, i just thought it'd be nice"
"It was" he nodded and smiling "thank you, for everything"
I shrugged feeling myself blush a little at his praise "its not a problem"
"What am i missing?" Steve asked suddenly looking between James and me.
"Y/N had a run in with Ms Harper at the school about what Allie was wearing"
"Urghh that woman is the devil I'm telling you! Your lucky you turned her down man"
"Wait....." i sat up turning to look at James better "Ms Harper asked you out?"
"God Steve! Why did you have to bring that up?" He moaned "yeah she asked a few times and i said no"
"Well that kinda makes a bit more sense" i muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"Ms Harper is being a jealous bitch and taking it out on Allie" both of them just looked at me with confusion clear on their faces "She kept calling me Mrs Barnes...."
"Oh!" James said wide eyed getting what i meant.
“Haha! thats brilliant Buck! Ms Harper is being a complete bitch because she thinks you run off and got married and she’s lost her shot at you!” Steve roared with laughter.
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haruka/mafuyu/saori ^_^
OH MY LORD... okay i did saori already so i will do haruka and mafuyu :)
Haruka:
First impression - CHILD
Impression now - OHHH.. OHHHHHHHH..... shes my favorite character now :) i cherish her so much shes really just.. wow!!!!! im so proud of her and how much growing up shes done!!!!! i was so glad they really REALLY fleshed her out in 3/4 ESPECIALLY 5 beyond like. look! its a kid! tho to be honest she was never really that she has so much personality even just in 1 where shes mostly a damsel :)
Favorite moment - genuinely cant choose i dont think. i liked it when she was like. if you wont look for mom i WILL in 1.. any part where shes defending the other kids at the orphanage... like, all of 5 [excluding the scene where park is teaching her internalized misogyny -_-] like we will be here all day if i keep going
Idea for a story - hmm... im replacing 6 with a game where you play as Just Her and you get to Fight. i think theres a lot you could do with her as a 20yrold protag and like.. her journey after the stuff that happened in 5. i genuinely think it couldve been really interesting for her to have a like.. whats the word for collage students who take a year off the travel. that but like kiryu takes care of the orphanage alone and she goes on an adventure.. idk maybe somethings happened to the t-set girls and she has to help them and its somehow wrapped up in yakuza buisness and they didnt know who else to call but thier cool friend haruka... idk. i just think she shouldve been allowed to hit and punch people. i dont see a world where kiryu wouldnt teach her to fight and thats even if she didnt want to which she CLEARLY would like.. she watches boxing for godsake cmon... that combined w kiryu for a dad and all the danger in her life... CMON... CMOOONNNNN
Unpopular opinion - im sorry ichiban but it shouldve been haruka who ‘inherited’ the series. imagine.... WAIT ACTUALLY. UNREALTED BUT REMEBER THAT MEME SAYING MGS WAS GONNA BE A MOBILE SERIES LIKE RHYTHM GAME? IMAGINE. HARUKA RHYTHM GAME. IMAGINE!!!!!
Favorite relationship - kiryu do i even need to say more
Favorite headcanon - OH SHE IS SO TRANSGENDER ITS NOT EVEN FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYY LIKE.... I.... SORRY IVE A LOT OF [RATTLING] CANT EVEN PUT INTO WORDS. SOMETHING SOMETHING TRANSGENDER DAUGHTER OF A TRANSGENDER DAD.. [BARKING] sidenote i miss that icon so fucking bad i was so excited to be that again but i got put into another fuckign school chat i [fuming] AND the ted bundy girl is here again
this got so long im so sorry. mafuyu under the cut
Send me a character ask!
mafuyu:
First impression - oh boy a woman w not much personality -_-
Impression now - oh boy! woman with personality! shes definitely suffering from rgg-woman-disease where a lot of her stuff is very damsel-y but like she is really fun if you pay attention. it shows especially in how she interacts with saori and yagami and i think its nice that shes on good terms with yagami even tho they dated-broke-up-whatevers-going-on-there. shes very.. paired down i guess is the word? but shes interesting once you pay attention.
Favorite moment - cake trialllllll i really like it :) i think its funny she was immediately like. yes he ate that cake and for this he will die <3 also when she got that info for yagami. genuinely that was so brave of her esp since she clearly looked up to [redacted] like.. bro. that really mustve hurt her to do :(
Idea for a story - maybe a case from her perspective like where the guy is guilty but the case is might fall through because it was based on like one thing that has suddenly stopped holding water (like a witness suddenly disappearing or evidence being stolen or something) so shes gotta do some Detecting very very quickly because the trial is SOON
Unpopular opinion - apparently its unpopular to even acknowledge she exists according to the empty ass tags so. she exists :) shes fun :)
Favorite relationship - saori :) i already elaborated on this on saoris but :) i think its sweet theyve been friends so long and also what if we were both girls ect ect
Favorite headcanon - i know ive said this for like half the answers ive given but um well she is transgender. :) i think when her and yagami dated it was a t4t thing from before they both went wait i like woman/men respectively
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BONUS: The Last Airbender
In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a show (or in this case, a movie) every one-to-two days, with a short blog post where I give my thoughts on what I’ve just seen. Each new point starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.
- Like so.
But today, I’m subjecting myself to the notorious live-action film The Last Airbender, to... Well, to “celebrate” its tenth anniversary. I initially planned on doing it either after Book 1, or after Book 3, but for whatever reason, I have decided to do this now.
Fair warning, this is going to be one of my rare posts where I’ll be mostly negative.
So much for “gushing about things I like”...
Also, so much for “the rare occasion I cover movies”, but that I don’t mind so much. The Lilo & Stitch post was a ton of fun to make.
- So, first things first, I don’t tend to be a fan of live-action movies based on animated properties in general. But it’s not like I don’t give them a chance.
Sometimes I even like them better than the original. I could never get through The Jungle Book in one sitting as a kid, but the 2016 live-action remake? I adored it!
Even the worst ones I tend to be “meh” about rather than flat-out disliking. But The Last Airbender? I hated it when I watched it as a kid... Emphasis on the past tense. I could well change my tune because of this, though I can’t imagine I’ll end up liking it.
- They recreate the “Water, earth, fire, air” part of the intro but without narration. Which, to be frank, just makes it look pretty silly.
- “The four nations. Water, Earth, Fire, and Air Nomads.” Sooo are they all nomads?
- Awvatar? Pronouncing Aang as Awng, I could sorta get, but... Awvatar? Really?!
- It feels oh-so-weird to see a white Katara and Sokka, when they, and all the people of the Water Tribes, had the darkest skin in the show.
- Something that really strikes me about this movie already is that it’s so... humorless. Sokka described himself once in the show as “the meat and sarcasm guy” if I’m remembering right, and not even five minutes in I can already tell we’re missing half of that description.
- Not only is this movie humorless, it can seem strangely... smaller, than the cartoon. In the cartoon, Katara got Aang out of the iceberg by accidentally using powerful Waterbending.
But here, Sokka causes the ice to crack by accident, revealing the iceberg with Aang inside. Then Katara grabs Sokka’s boomerang and whacks the iceberg twice with it.
- More about the lack of humor: There’s not even a mention of penguin sledding once Aang is out either.
- And not only are our most prominent Waterbenders white, the Fire Nation (who had light skin in the cartoon) have the darkest skin of the whole main cast. Juuust great...
- Aang’s heroic moment from the cartoon is taken away from him. In the cartoon, Aang was on his way out of the Southern Water Tribe when he saw the Fire Nation approaching, at which point he turned around and helped them.
Here? Aang sits in a tent until one of the Fire Nation soldiers sees his tattoos and drags him out.
- “We found that boy, he’s our responsibility!” Katara sounds like she’s talking about a stray puppy they found. “I’ll feed him, and bathe him, and teach him!”
- It crosses the line into unintentional hilarity when, as Katara and Sokka are discussing Aang, there’s just Appa noises in the background, entirely unremarked upon. The only take a glance in that direction once they’re done talking, ironically after Appa’s quietened down somewhat.
- Nobody gets out of this movie without major changes, but if it weren’t for Iroh referring to Zuko as his nephew, I’d have never guessed it was him. Also, Eeroh. Frankly, I’ll be surprised if Zuko isn’t pronounced Zucko.
- Katara and Sokka’s grandmother pronounces Avatar correctly. Why don’t Katara and Sokka? Or, heck, why doesn’t she pronounce it “Awvatar”? It’d be better if they stuck to one rather than the inconsistent pronunciation.
- I’ll give them props: The idea of testing if Aang is the Avatar by setting four objects representing the elements in front of him is pretty cool. Does become kinda silly, though, when the rock just... wobbles and goes upright. They could have had it, like, cracking, but instead, wobbly rock.
- I might be misremembering, but it felt like Aang’s escape from Zuko’s ship was a lot... more, in the cartoon. I know, time constraints of fitting a twenty-episode season into a two-hour movie. But I have to tilt my head at just how much shorter (and milder) this particular scene is than its animated counterpart.
- It’s weird how Katara’s narration calls Aang by name, then like a minute later (at most) we see her ask him for his name.
- Wow, is it weird to see Aasif Mandvi playing Zhao when I watched The Daily Show as a teenager.
- Exposition is always fun when it’s delivered in the form of a roast.
- “But we will let [Zuko] wear [the Fire Nation uniform] today, like a child wearing a costume.” And nobody even smiles at Zhao’s sick burn.
- Hey, at least they have Iroh drinking tea. But cartoon Iroh probably wouldn’t do that so casually while his nephew is fighting Zhao’s soldiers. And cartoon Iroh would probably smile. At some point in time.
- And movie Katara and Sokka have apparently gone all the way to the Earth Kingdom without learning that Aang is the Avatar.
- “He was bending tiny stones at us from behind a tree! It really hurt!” I gotta be honest, that’s not a bad joke. It does feel kinda out of place with the general tone of the movie thus far, but whatever. I’ll take the lighthearted fun moments where I can get them.
- I can sort of understand why they would want the Earthbenders imprisoned by the Fire Nation to have some sort of earth to bend without the Gaang going to all that trouble to get the coal. But putting them in a quarry is more than a bit overboard.
- Aang gets a big Katara moment from the cartoon. And the thing is, Katara doesn’t really get that much time to shine in this movie. She could have used a moment like this one. Heck, Aang could’ve joined in to confirm that the Avatar has returned.
But no... In this scene, Katara just shoves a Fire Nation soldier who’s being rude to Aang.
- Ah, the infamous pebble dance. And the thing is, in the cartoon, this would’ve been a joke.
Aang would go through this huge, over-the-top dance just to make a relatively small rock float slowly towards a Fire Nation soldier. At which point, Toph would make the rock move much faster before teasing Aang about what he just did.
- Ohhh, gosh, I’m half an hour into this hour-and-a-half movie, and the post already looks like... this.
- “Teachers to teach you bending.” A lot of attention gets given to another repetitive line later on in the movie, but we shouldn’t ignore this beauty.
- Weird to see Ozai in plain view. Especially considering how, later on, he will be framed in shadow.
- Agni Key... What is it with this movie and changing pronunciations? I wouldn’t even care if that was the only problem, but with how it is, it’s one of several things that make this movie feel like “Avatar but wrong”.
- “Yip yip.” Gosh, does it feel weird to hear those words in a movie that tries to be more serious than the cartoon.
- I had to stop and continue this in the morning since it was late, so I might be forgetting something... But was it established before the Blue Spirit that Zuko knew Zhao would be hunting the Avatar?
- Hard to take it seriously when Zhao looks at his soldiers, chained by their hands to the ceiling, and simply mutters “fools.”
- “You think my son is this person the soldiers are calling ‘Blue Spirit’?” *pause of at least four seconds* “...Yes.”
- “My brother and the princess became friends right away.” First off, that’s really underplaying it. But second, Sokka’s face is so blank as Katara says this that I can’t buy even that.
- Zhao really becomes a much less threatening force when it’s Ozai who tells him to kill the spirits, when it’s Ozai who starts talking about their destiny.
- “HOOOOOOOOO” lives in a pineapple under the sea?!
- Everything in the Spirit World is compressed into this one dragon. Which makes it seem a lot less like a Spirit World than just the home of this dragon.
- I would say that the whole bit of Aang trying to avoid Zuko even though he’s right behind him is more like something from the cartoon... But, the dramatic music really makes it seem like this is supposed to be a serious moment. And it just doesn’t work as one.
- Iroh’s trying to stop Zhao is nowhere near as good as it was in the cartoon.
- “He’s making fire out of nothing!” I don’t understand why they made the change that this is uncommon. The Fire Nation are the villains, they should be stronger than other benders.
- “It’s time we show the Fire Nation that we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs.” I don’t understand how anyone thought this could work as a serious line.
- Back to the whole thing of this being smaller than the cartoon, Aang doesn’t turn into Aangzilla here. He accomplishes a very impressive feat of Waterbending, but when I just watched the cartoon version last week, it feels lesser in comparison.
- I imagine this is supposed to be Aang bowing in response, since he didn’t with the monks. But it doesn’t look like bowing. It just looks like an elegant dance move.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Yeah, I still don’t like it much. But I’ll say this: Now that I’ve watched it again, I appreciate the cartoon so much more.
I appreciate the characters. I appreciate the tone, I appreciate the pacing. And I appreciate all the things that are lacking from this movie.
I can only hope that the new live-action adaptation will be better, even if I know the cartoon will still be my preferred way of experiencing the story.
#The Last Airbender#bonus post#long post#really long post#super long post#negativity#negative#Katara#Sokka#Aang#Iroh#Zuko#Zhao#pebble dance#Fire Lord Ozai#Movie
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Hensley & Char: Friends or Whatever || Part 6
I have to warn y’all, this chapter has some sadness in it. I tapped into 15 year old me and how I was trying to navigate what I thought back then was me being bi, which IF someone calls me bi, I am not opposed to the able, even being technically ace, but for that time and for my feelings/experience and the language I had access to, that’s what I was considering myself as, but nobody knew that (though I was rumored gay by several people in high school, despite never seeing me in any relationships and me only ever speaking about male crushes to others) LOL, yes, Mama used to have male crushes irl, when I was a kid. But, I tapped into some of myself, but made it more Charlotte-like and leaned on the gay. Idk how well it will or won’t resonate, but I hope that I at least did Charlotte justice in her experience with looking inward, though her results may be disappointing, I hope that they at least come across as realistic, if not relatable or understandable. @just-a-j-reallly @junknstu1f @henryharts I’m not in a rush for feedback, as I know everybody has things going on. Hopefully my tags work out. A lot of people never get notified of them.
Also, as a heads up, the next chapter, whenever that might come, might also be sad too. I’m so sorry.
The Jasper Juxtaposition
They had been trying to get Jasper into the fold of their outfit for a while. Ray wasn’t having it. Even whenever Charlotte basically throw her pride into a burning bin, seeping with trash juice, to pretend that she was secretly dating Hensley, but that they couldn’t tell anyone because, “Charlotte’s not out of the closet.” At this point, Charlotte was very heavily debating this ruse.
There was an element of “people shouldn’t lie/joke about being in the closet,” which she strongly and firmly believed in… But… She went along with it anyway, because as she did her backstory for this test on Jasper, she found that she comfortably created the guise.
“I can say that I’ve been curious about my sexuality for a while, and seeing you out of the closet, living your best gay life inspired me to come to you for advice on how to navigate figuring it out and in the process, we fell for each other and started dating secretly.”
Hensley laughed in her face and said, “It’s Jasper, Char. You don’t have to say all of that. Just be like, “We’re gay together, Dude.” He’s gonna accept it and be super chill about it. I’m not convinced there’s a pile of homo rattling around in him, if we’re being honest. PLUS, he thinks we’re both hot. He’s gonna get a kick out of us kissing and stuff.”
“I’m not kissing you!” Charlotte squealed.
Hensley turned up her nose, “What? Ew. No! Of course not. Ugh. This incites disgust, to think of it.” She shook her head, “Kissing a straight girl… in the mouth? I don’t know where your mouth has been. On boys, probably. I don’t want boy kiss transfer.”
“You kissed Chloe all the time!” Charlotte argued, unsure of why that was her response instead of arguing that she didn’t want to kiss Hensley (and hadn’t been kissing any boys, unless you counted kissing Jack Swagawitz at camp… which… she didn’t), and furthermore…
“Chloe was different, though. I really liked her,” Hensley said.
“You went out with Bianca as soon as you had a window,” Charlotte muttered.
“You told me to go for it! What? Now, I gotta stop listening to my smarter half?”
They bickered up until the moment that Jasper came over for them to feed him the lie. Whoa, were they bad at lying together… Fortunately, it was Jasper. Who, Charlotte was very disturbed by his fascination with the thought of them kissing. “Jasper is fetishing us, and I don’t like it,” she told Hensley.
“He’s not fetishizing you. He’s fetishizing fake lesbian you. It’s different.”
“Yeah, but… He’s… fetishizing lesbians!”
“He’s a dude. Dudes do that,” Hensley said, waving a hand. Charlotte didn’t like that explanation and it was often Hensley’s excuse for a number of sexist and problematic things that happened on her watch. Maybe it was for the best that Jasper didn’t pass the test. Then she’d have a problematic Hensley, and ANOTHER problematic guy at work. Ray was alright. He was nice, enough, but he said stuff sometimes that made her uncomfortable and he didn’t really listen whenever she pointed these things out. (Something that she had no idea would get worse over time, but that’s another subject.
Currently, the subject is Jasper.
It took a while before Jasper came on board with the team. It took a while before he was ready for this secret. From the time that Hensley and Charlotte “broke up” until then, there were a lot of adventures that Hensley and Char saw together that made them really close in a way that Charlotte and Jasper were not, and even that Jasper and Henry were not. And in a way, for Charlotte, it was a lot like the fabricated story that she had spun - their secret involvement and the connecting together that nobody knew about… Also, since then, she had really been thinking about how easy it was for her to think of that, and how… relatable it felt, how natural it was to even imagine herself, keeping that sort of secret because she couldn’t tell people that she maybe… well… she didn’t really think it was so much a maybe these days… liked girls.
More specifically, she maybe (and this WAS still a maybe), liked Hensley. Her hopeless heroine who she helped on a daily basis, and loved being so close to, even when she complained and fussed at her about the things that she deserved to be fussed at about. She would probably NEVER let her live down almost getting killed by Jasper’s crazy ex girlfriend, and she was so tired of Hensley always coming to her to get her out of stuff that she warned her about prior to the decision - like when she tried to go to the dance with Chloe as Kid Danger and Bianca as herself… STUPID HENSLEY! Charlotte decided, right around Jasper Dunlop Day that she wasn’t doing this anymore. She was going to explore her options and see what felt right.
She bought a project board, some cards, and a science journal and she set up, literally in her closet, a little experiment center. She decorated the board, and across the top, had lettered, “Am I Gay?” Her hypothesis?: “I might be gay.” Procedure: Well, she supposed, she had to talk to some people, go on some dates, maybe kiss somebody? She shuddered. The amount of germs in saliva was terrifying to her. In fact, whenever she kissed Jack, she had threatened, “If you slip me any tongue, I’ll slip my fist right into your ribcage!” Needless to say, he slipped her no tongue.
But, her “experimentation phase” generally was not very successful for a number of reasons.
First and foremost… meeting people? She wasn’t a fan. She joined the Student Council as a means to help her with a bit of self diagnosed social anxiety, but cared a lot about issues, so that she genuinely stayed in it to do community stuff and be a helpful member of the club. She met cool people, too! It was one of her things away from Hensley and away from Jasper, and wasn’t primarily academic, so she held it close to her heart as something for herself and decided against using it, and the fine people she met in it as lab rats for her orientation exploration.
Then, there was the little problem of personal space and unnecessary touching. There were very few people that she allowed into her bubble. Her parents, Uncle Roscoe, Hensley, Jasper, Piper, and Ray, and even with Ray, she tensed up for the longest time whenever he entered her bubble without warning. Even with that select amount of people who could be in her bubble, the only people that could casually touch her were her parents and Hensley. Sometimes Piper, but Piper had the respect to not touch her for no good reason. Unlike Hensley, who she simply had to get used to the fact that the girl was simply GOING TO just stand close, throw her arm around her, hug her, pick her up, play with her hair, tug on her backpack, or whatever she felt like doing at the time, and saying, “You should get permission before touching people,” just became background noise for Hensley, after a while, so Charlotte simply stopped saying it and adjusted.
Jasper still sometimes got elbowed. It just wasn’t the same thing when a dude just touched you casually, she had initially thought. Maybe that wasn’t it at all and she just didn’t mind girls touching her as much, because she liked them? But… in order to figure that out, she’d have to let people in her bubble and let people casually touch her and see how she felt about it.
So often, when it looked like somebody was getting too close, she stepped away, creating the distance of comfort for her and also, very clearly letting them see where it was. To the point that everybody who knew her knew not to get too close and everybody in her extracurriculars always did stuff like, “Hey Charlotte, I’m gonna take this lint off of you, okay?” (to which, she’d tell them to show her where it was and get it herself) or “Hi, Charlotte, do you mind if I sit here, or is that too close for you?”(To which she’d tell them to go ahead, but she’d move over more). She’d have to start telling people that being near her was okay, if she wanted to see her reactions to boys and girls and others in her proximity… And nowadays, they didn’t even ask anymore.
Even Mitch Bilsky would take one look at her and say, “UGH. The only space is by the queen of “don’t stand so close to me?” He’d then still do it, and even purposefully make her squirm, but she would resolve to ignore him and he’d get bored and move along.
But, she didn’t have very many times to test this out, and had to eventually rule out trying to get close to people (or let them get close to her) to see if she might feel a little flutter or not.
Lastly, in addition to not being a people person and not wanting anybody in her personal space, The Man Cave was a whole ass full time job to maintain. She began to wonder what happened to people who previously worked for Ray/Captain Man? Even the ones that were there when she got there, and ones that would pop in and out for little assignments… after a while, she just didn’t see them, and she either was assigned their jobs, or took it upon herself to do them for worry of things going terribly wrong if she didn’t. Things went wrong in general, and she often felt like if she didn’t step in whenever she did, they could be downright disastrous. This job basically became her life. She never signed up for another marathon after dropping out whenever she thought the Super Volcano would kill them. She still had StuCo, but that was school related and when push came to shove, she only forsook the Man Cave for educational purposes, unless it was an extreme emergency.
In fact, she completely gave up on testing it all out and just let it bother her beneath the surface. Her conclusion: I’m more confused than ever, but technically… going to consider myself in the closet.
Imagine if I was as comfortable with myself as Jasper is…
You couldn’t tell that boy nothing. He protested stupid Swellview laws, jumped into hero mode to get his own hero day, wore belly shirts to everyone’s chagrin, was willing to go to tremendous lengths - sometimes extremely embarrassing ones - to get girls, and he overshared weird facts about his body with great excitement that just let you know that he adored these things about himself…
She couldn’t even with certainty say that she MIGHT like girls, which, she was sure that she absolutely did, but she could hardly admit it to herself, much less out loud. What if it hurt her? What if it affected how she was seen by people on college boards or in the job field, once she left Swellview. Sure… there were YEARS before this happened, but Charlotte had been thinking ahead since she was small, and the moment she felt an inkling that her feelings may be… counterculture, she began to research related laws and statistics.
Swellview didn’t have a big Black population. In fact, the demographics indicated that there were a lot more lgbt citizens than there were people who weren’t white, period. So, in Swellview, perhaps it wouldn’t be anything to be open about her sexuality… but… what if it was different for her, like a lot of things were. It was often different for her as a girl to be accepted in some spaces, to be listened to, to be respected. And it was frequently double different for her as a Black girl. Even the “good” people made her feel things that she often didn’t want to complain about, because they ALREADY thought she was an angry girl, when she couldn’t think of very many instances in which her anger was not justified. Research told her that was a common issue for Black girls and women. She didn’t have enough around her to touch base with, and was frustrated that she had to consider all of these intersections to even consider whether she would be free enough to have a sexual identity.
Even with her academic record, immaculate articulation, and non-threatening appearance, Charlotte didn’t have many friends and didn’t have the best reputation. She was a nerd, but also, unfriendly. A Black girl in a male dominant world, in a white dominant city, and to possibly also be gay… she just… she couldn’t just toss that out there and have it attached to her name without knowing, and she felt like a coward for feeling like that.
What would be the big deal, Charlotte? If that’s who you are… what would be so wrong about that? People be gay all over Swellview… but then again… everyday, she would see people be able to freely do things that she previously thought she WOULD never do, but as she got older realized that she wouldn’t do certain things, because she COULD never do them… not without possibly losing something. Chances? Respect? Heck, in certain areas of the world, her life. But, thinking this hard about it and not coming up with anything to push her to believe that she was indeed a straight girl, despite all of the reasons that it would be SO easy, and she loved easy things, despite her knack for tackling hard things. Why wouldn’t she just accept that she was straight, if that would make all of this anguish and confusion go away? She could just tell herself that she was straight and get it over with and move on… IF she was indeed straight. And if she wasn’t, no matter how much “experimentation” and hypothesizing she did, nothing would make her feel those feelings that she sometimes felt around Hensley, for some boy.
So… She just sat with it. In her closet. She didn’t experiment and she didn’t hypothesize. But, in her science journal that she had previously been writing all of these things in, she scratched out her conclusion and wrote.
Conclusion: I’m gay.
But, she tore the page out and wadded it up. Then, she felt bad, straightened it back out, and slid it back into it's space. She tucked her cards into it and stuffed it into a lock box where she kept keepsakes and stuff, locked it in and got rid of her project board in the Junk n Stuff dumpster.
She had been handling Kid Danger’s secret for a couple of years now and planned to hold on to it forever. She had time to figure out what to do with her own.
Besides… by the time Jasper got in on the secret… Things changed a lot, anyway.
#Friends or Whatever#Hensley and Char: Friends or Whatever#Hensley Hart#Girl!Henry wlw AU#Henry Danger#Nesha HD Fics
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