#Every piece of tech in my room besides my phone is off because it's technically connected to the kitchen and I

[anothermonikan]

Aw boy, something fucked up with the plumbing maybe because the taps are! Not working right! Spitting out water at different pressures than what it should be! Not exactly a good omen..

[imaginethatneathuh]

Brother P2: Shadow Moon - American Gods

Platonic relationship, male!reader, gn!reader, TB being himself.

CW: Smoking and swearing. Mentions of death, spirits, and betrayal.

Word count:  2,719

I’m still learning how to do this, please be patient.

“Masterlist”

•

“Well, hello there,” the person said. “Who the fuck are you?”

You looked at him, blankly, and groaned, regretting everything.

Losing your voice, you pulled out your pen and paper and wrote. “An idiot. And you’re a god. What about it?”

The boy scoffed and his tongue ran across his top teeth.

“Okay, motherfucker, first off, how do you know that?” He asked. “And second, you aren’t supposed to be here.”

Pressing his mouth around the tip of his weird looking vape, the boy took a drag.

You wrote your response as quickly as you could.

“First, it’s not that hard to figure, and, second, I’m not even supposed to be alive.” You mocked the way he asked his question. He didn’t seem to notice.

He choked on the smoke in his throat and coughed. Because of his pale skin, he turned slightly red. The boy coughs, beating his chest slightly.

You didn’t know why people did that. It’s not like it would help. Would it?

Clearing his throat, he said, “What I meant was, Shadow Moon was supposed to be here not, whoever the fuck you are.” He gestured with his, what you assumed to be, vape.

“Y/N = name,” you wrote.

He nodded, keeping his gaze fixated on the ground. “Pretty.”

“Yours?”

You watched him deliberate before he spoke.

“Technical Boy,” he said. “But you can call me Tech.” Pausing, he thought about what he said. “Or TB, if it’s easier to write.”

You nodded, thankful you didn’t have to write all that out.

“Who are you, exactly?” He asked.

You twisted the pen in your fingers, trying to figure out what would be most concise and would reveal the least.

“Friend of Shadow’s.”

Technical Boy read the paper and leant back in his seat. He looked thoughtful, as if he was analyzing the situation. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s how he worked. You didn’t know enough about this god to say for sure.

You had your own thoughts to contend with anyway.

Whoever this god was, he was dangerous. Maybe not like Wednesday, but he there was this underlying intimidation to him. Like all gods really. But this was different. He was different. Thinking is dangerous and Technical Boy was sure as hell taking his fucking time thinking about something.

Even if it wasn’t that, he still gave you the ‘don’t fuck with me’ kinda vibes. They weren’t Wednesday’s ‘don’t fuck with me vibes’. No, they were different. More in your face; just like everything else about this guy.

Which was nice. You knew where he was; his intentions practically seeped from his pores.

Unlike with Wednesday, who had too much mystery about him for you to trust with even a penny of your money.

“Your friend, does he know what he’s gotten himself into?”

You shook your head.

“He doesn’t even know who Wednesday is,” you wrote.

Technical Boy slowly nodded, thinking. He took another drag from his vape.

You could swear the thing in the sphere-like pod blinked at you.

The god followed your gaze to his vape.

“Synthetic toad skins,” he said. “Wanna hit?”

You shook your head. You didn’t need your mind fogged up by anything right now.

He shrugged, taking another hit and blowing out O’s.

You coughed as the smoke hit you. Now, that’s a dick move.

Guess you didn’t have a choice. Either take a hit directly, or get one from second-hand smoke.

Shadow probably would have snapped at him by now.

“How do you know about us?” He asked. “Gods, I mean.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning his question.

“How does anyone know anything?” You asked him, writing it down on your pad.

He quietly chuckled and pointed at you.

“I like you,” he said. “Confident. Smart. Good qualities to have.”

“Point?”

“Straight-forward is also a good quality and a rare one. Wonder how you got it.”

Ouch. 

Technical Boy leant forward, studying you. “My, I suppose you could call him, boss, wants to know what Wednesday is up to.”

“A spy?”

Technical Boy nodded. “If you want to call it that, sure,” he said. “You can be our inside man.”

He was offering you a job.

Made sense.

The weather had been strange as of late. Then Wednesday shows up, offering Shadow one in a weird fucking way. When you had consulted the future (which is always vague) and the spirits (which are even more vague), they gave interesting answers. Everything seemed to be pointing toward something big happening and soon by the looks of it.

“Do I have a choice?”

Technical Boy nodded and said, “Sure. Death is always another option.” He quickly noticed your uneasy movements. “That was a joke, I swear. I didn’t actually mean that. I was just trying to be a dick.”

You leant back, breathing a little easier.

“Why should I?” You wrote. “Work for you instead of Wednesday. What are the benefits, cause the downside is that I’ll be hurting a friend and likely have to sneak around behind their backs.”

“Is money a good incentive? How about a steady job? You ever had either of those? Or maybe, all expenses paid for?” Technical Boy took another drag and blew out the smoke. “Also, the best tech you could ask for and whatever you need to get the job done.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” The god seemed shocked by that, narrowing his eyes at you and leaning back like he was trying to see the big picture of you. Never gonna happen. “What I want to know is, why should I hurt my friend for someone I don’t know and for a cause I know nothing about?”

Technical Boy nodded, understanding the question. Barely, but he got there.

“Wednesday is in the past; we are the future. The Old Gods are fading, crumbling in America. They are nothing. Especially compared to us,” he said. “Don’t you want to be part of the winning side for once?”

His arrogance was definitely his worst trait.

“The Old Gods will always be there. They are a part of our culture,” you wrote. “Try as you might, the US will always be the melting pot of the world. There are too many cultures here to make it any different.”

Technical Boy smirked.

“Like I said, smart.” The god thought for a moment before countering. “That may be true, but those cultures are melting together and can’t stay apart for long. They will become one giant culture and that will be of the good ole U.S. of A. You can’t stop that. No one can.”

“Maybe. Why are you trying to convince me to work for you?”

Technical Boy shrugged.

“My mission was to find out what Wednesday has planned. You are, currently, the best way of doing that. Besides, maybe you can convince Shadow to join us too. He seems to be important to the old man, so why not?” The god gestured with his vape before taking a drag. “Just to fuck with him, ya know?” He blew out the smoke through his nose.

“Can I think about it?”

He nodded.

“Sure, take your time. Just not too long. We don’t have forever.”

“How would I get in contact with you?”

A smartphone materialized in your lap. It’s black, sleek case and the screen shined.

“Call me,” he said before cringing. “Text me, I mean. My number’s already in there.”

You nodded.

Technical Boy reached for a strangely shaped thing on his left. It looked like one of those plumbob things from The Sims but cut in half and with some sort of box sticking out of it. That's what it looked like from your perspective anyway. His hand hovered over the middle of the box before he pressed down on whatever it was. You could have sworn it turned red, but you couldn’t tell; it was too far away now.

“See ya on the flip side,” he said.

A piece of the roof gave way, opening like a box lid.

You were pulled from your seat and, in a way, floated out. It was strange. You didn’t feel like you left the whatever it was but you could see you had. It was like you were going upward while everything else was going down. It made your stomach hurt. You knew what direction you were going and what way was up just by looking, but none of it felt real. Nothing from the last few minutes felt real. Not the god, not the phone that burned in your pocket, not the offer the god had made, and certainly not the room, or whatever it was, you had been in.

What did feel real was Shadow holding you and calling your name.

By the gods, you did hate the gods.

“Y/N?” Shadow said. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? Y/N?”

He kept calling your name, shaking you slightly, but you couldn’t respond. Not with your pad and pen and definitely not verbally.

Your mind was racing to catch up with everything as your body had.

Finally, you managed to sit up, Shadow holding you to help stabilize you. You weren’t built for this. Not in any way, shape, or form. Someone like Shadow? Probably. But you? No, not in the slightest. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten in the way, but it was too late for that.

Everything hit you like a train as you watched the face-hugger-like contraption fold in on itself and disappear. Like it just blinked out of existence.

But that was the gods for you; always covering up their tracks. Some even pretending like they had nothing to do with how humans acted or what happened to humans. It’s sickening really, the way they act. But what can you do?

Some could hold their own under the gods’ onslaught; but you were too much like your parents, not strong enough to handle it.

Shadow kept his arms around you as you leant into his chest.

Technical Boy likely had no idea how that would have affected you so you couldn’t blame him; he was, afterall, looking for Shadow, not you. The two of you had entirely different genetic makeup.

You looked at Shadow as he looked fearfully at you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded and breathed heavily.

“We have to get away,” you said. “Whatever is going on is dangerous.”

Every word hurt to say.

Though you wanted to tell him everything, you knew he wouldn’t believe you. He was that sort of guy.

“I made a deal with Wednesday,” he said.

You sighed, your gaze falling to the now muddy ground.

“I can’t break that. But you can leave, if you want.” Shadow let you go and stood up, offering his hand. “It’s okay if you do. I’d understand.”

You scoffed and took his hand. “And what? Let you get yourself killed? Not happening.”

Shadow smiled, pulling you up.

You were brothers; you couldn’t just walk away from each other like that.

•

You know that feeling that people get when they think they’re being watched? Well, that was the feeling you got as you and Shadow climbed back to the street. It felt like someone was spying on you from the bushes or something, but you pushed the feeling aside.

The both of you would need a shower after this. That and clean clothes.

•

You both found your separate rooms at the motel. They were right next to each other, like your cells had been the first time you met.

Collapsing on your bed, mud caking your shoes and clothes, you stared at the ceiling and considered your options: join these New Gods and betray your friend, deny their offer and side with the Old Gods, or skip town and never interact again.

The third choice was your favourite.

Joining the New Gods was a no-brainer really. They, as Technical Boy said, were the future. But is that a future you really want to be a part of? One where minorities were attacked, locked up, and killed for no reason. One where the planet was being poisoned by large corporations. A future where people’s entire future’s and live’s depended on one election. Is that something you really wanted? There was also the whole moral thing of betraying someone you trusted whole-heartedly. You couldn’t give less of a shit about Wednesday and whatever he was doing. But you did care about Shadow and, like he said, he did make a deal. He always keeps his deals.

On the other hand, there were the Old Gods. They were obviously going to lose. They weren’t powerful enough. It’d be great for whoever they fight in the name of (Wednesday) but they’d still lose. The only plus side was Shadow. Keeping him safe was all that enticed you to consider this course.

But you could still keep him safe with the New Gods.

The last option was taking Shadow and getting out. But you knew he wouldn’t go with you. He needed the money and had already sealed the deal.

You sat up and stared at the carpet before flopping back down on the bed.

You knew what you had to do, what the smartest choice was and would all but guarantee Shadow’ safety.

You had to play all sides.

It was obvious when you thought about it.

You would agree to spy for the New Gods, so long as Technical Boy would be your “handler”, help Wednesday with whatever (while supplying that information to Technical Boy), but your main goal would be convincing Shadow to leave with you. You knew a small town in Wisconsin that would be perfect to hide away in. Your family had hid there before. It may not have done you any good back then, but things change.

Yes, this would require a level of deception that you hadn’t used in years, but it wasn’t the hardest plan you’d ever come up with. Plus, people always had a habit of underestimating the quiet one. That was often their fatal mistake.

With that plan in mind, you pulled out the phone Technical Boy had given you and turned it on.

Technical Boy must have known you did because a text came through.

‘Decided?’ It read.

‘Yes,’ you texted back. ‘I’ll work for you, but only you.’

‘Good.’ A new line of text appeared. ‘Text if Wednesday reveals anything or you find out anything useful.’ Another line popped up. ‘I’ll set up meeting places. Don’t text unless you need me or have information.’

‘Got it.’

You tossed the phone onto the bed and covered your face with your hands.

What had you just done?

Something stupid, that’s what.

If he found out what you were really doing, you’d end up dead for sure. Or worse yet, Shadow would.

You pushed the thought away. You couldn’t afford to think like that, not now. Not when you had to focus on manipulating and lying to people, one of which you would do anything for.

•

Wednesday walked over to you as Shadow helped the moving men load stuff into the truck.

You leant against Betty, as he called her. Pulling a package of gum out of your pocket, you plucked one out and took off the wrapper. Quickly stuffing the piece in your mouth, you put the package away and crumpled the wrapper up, putting it in your pocket.

“So,” the older man said. “Shadow and I talked last night.” You said nothing, just nodding along. “He said that you pushed him out of the way of some sort of device. That the thing was stuck on your face for a while. That you were shaken when you came out.” You just nodded. “What did he say to you?” Wednesday asked. “What did he promise you if you helped him?”

You looked over at him and rolled your eyes before pulling out your pad of paper and your red crayon.

“Don’t worry, I told him to take a hike,” you wrote. “Odin.”

Wednesday stepped away from you, surprised.

“I weighed the risks. Shadow is more likely to get hurt with them than you.”

The Old God nodded and realized where your loyalties lie; with Shadow and Shadow alone.

[buckysmischief]

what’s up danger? - 1

sunflower, part 1

Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos

AN: @perpetually-tuned-out helped me write a piece of this & it’s bolded, Amanda you’re amazing & I cannot thank you enough!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

🕷🕸

Peter’s POV

Peter was watching TV alone in his apartment one day and got back-to-back phone calls from Fury and Tony about a new villain they wanted to recruit. The problem was that no one knew where she was currently due to her ability to change reality, which is why they needed Peter. After the whole ordeal with Mysterio, Peter and Tony began working on a piece of tech that would detect any false realities.

Once arriving at the SHIELD NY office, Peter was welcomed by Maria and escorted to the debriefing room where Fury and Tony were waiting. On the table was a new Spider-Man suit, which meant Tony had added new tech that he would be needing for his mission.

“So, kid, do you remember a thing called the reality stone?” Peter was well into his 20s but Tony has never stopped calling him ‘kid’, which he was fine with. As long as it came from Tony, from anyone else felt like an insult.

“Um yeah, sort of. The stones were destroyed by Thanos after the snap though, weren’t they?” puzzled Peter, “Is something happening? Is he back? Do we-”

“Woah there, slow down.” Tony interrupted, “Back in 2013 the stone, or Aether, was in London. There was this thing called the Convergence happening, I’m not getting into it right now so ask Thor if you’re curious. Basically, as a young girl YN YLN, was in London in 2013 on a class trip, got caught up in an anomaly, and she absorbed the powers of the aether.”

“Like Jane?”

“No. We’re not sure why, all we know is that she uses it how Thanos did.”

“Back to the point,” Fury interjects, “It’s damn near impossible to catch a person who can alter reality, so Tony updated the tracking abilities in your suit.”

“I ran tests on all the stones when we had them, good thing too or we never would have had the technology to find her.” Tony boasts. “Took some time to figure out, though. We need you to test it out, see if you can find her when the radar detects a location.”

Peter nods, taking in all the new information presented to him. “Okay, but why me? Not that I’m complaining, I just don’t understand why I’m her assigned Avenger.”

“It’s simple,” Maria starts, “Beck did something similar and, once you finally figured it out, you handled the situation extremely well.”

“She’s also your neighbor,” Fury laughs, “we call her Rem.”

Peter was shocked. His quiet, shy, and probably overly nervous neighbor was a villain? They had been neighbors for two years, how did he not notice? Did she know that he’s Spider-Man? Well, at least he knew her name now.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Try and recruit her.”

Your POV

For the past year Spider-Man has been on your ass every move you made, and not because you lived right beside him. After the first two times he found you attempting to rob a bank, you figured he must have found a way to track your powers. You had to stop using your powers at home, which wasn’t a huge deal. The last thing you needed was Peter Parker invading your personal life.

It wasn’t hard to find out who he was, the fact that his girlfriend was always yelling “Why can’t you just stop being Spider-Man?” helped a lot. They fought a lot, actually. It was none of your business, so you weren’t worried about why, but you did know she wanted him to retire the suit.

“Oh Spidey, still comin’ back I see. You don’t have a girlfriend to keep you busy?” he hadn’t even made himself known yet, but you knew he was there.

“Not really, we broke up. Again. We’ve kinda been in the cycle of.. Wait, stop distracting me!” webs flew from his suit and entangled your hands.

“C’mon Spidey, you know how I feel about being tied up.” you say with a smirk.

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it.” Peter smirked under his mask, “Otherwise you wouldn’t have made it so easy.”

Peter had slowly been getting closer, and you were suddenly pressed against the wall. And if the eyes on his mask were anything to go by, he was squinting. It’s like this is a different Spider-Man. Usually if you get a little flirty, he would get flustered, flirt back a little, but you always got away before he got to your hands. However, this time, the lack of witty banter had thrown you off, this time he was really flirting. Peter had noticed the slight twitch of your eyes as he considered his next few words.

“I could just make this the easiest job and have you suspended from the air, but something tells me you’ll beg me to tighten the restraints.” Your pupils dilate at his crude comment and your natural instinct was to lash out with your hands.

As your arms buckled and fists clenched in the webbing Peter realized that he’d mobilized your strongest asset. Until you could free yourself, you were trapped under Spider-Man’s gaze.

“So Remmy,” how you loathed that nickname, “why are you in the weapons vault, at SHIELD of all places?”

“Heard some rumors Cap had extra shields, got bored and thought I’d have a look.” While that was true, you failed to mention what one would go for if any existed.

Peter scoffed, “Come on Rem, just meet with him once. You don’t have to be a thief forev-”

“I am not meeting Nick Fury or Tony Stark.”

Peter closed the remaining distance between you and removed the webbing from your hands, holding them in his. He bent down and whispered in your ear, “Then stay for me.”

You don’t know when your feelings for Peter, and Spider-Man, changed. It started out as a typical hero-villian dynamic, but slowly you developed something for the masked hero.

“I’ll think about it.” one moment you are kissing his cheek, and the next he is watching you disappear behind a door that never existed before.

What the hell was that? So what Peter and his girlfriend broke up, that’s not anything new. You could count on one hand the amount of time she’s slammed the door at 2 in the morning after Peter had come back from patrolling the city just this month. Flirting wasn’t anything new, just a way to try and distract the other. No, you had just never had Peter, Spider-Man, act on his flirtations.

-

You walked out of the door you created and immediately blended in with foot traffic, deciding that you were going to pick up Chinese food and head home for the night.

You should have went with Italian. Of course Peter would be there. He was putting his card back in his wallet when he spotted you. “Yn? Hey, Peter. I mean I’m Peter, we’re neighbors.”

Never in the three years of living next to this man have you two ever said more than a, “Hey, they put your mail in my box again by mistake” to each other. What the hell had possessed both of his identities to change things? “Yeah. I mean, I know who you are.”

“You going home after this? We could walk together, if that’s fine with you I mean.” he was nervous. Not even an hour ago he had you pinned against a wall and now he’s suddenly shy?

You thought about your next words, and the fact that you weren’t supposed to know he was single. “And how would your girlfriend feel about that?”

“MJ? She left, again. I told her to not come back anymore, it’s a long story. Not important anymore. But it’s fine if you don’t want to!”

You really should say no, “No, I want to! I mean, why not, ya know?”

After paying for your food the two of you walk back to Peter’s apartment, he had just bought a new TV and suggested movie with dinner. As the night went on you both gravitated toward each other, your legs had ended up stretched out across his lap while his hand was gripping your thigh.

It was odd, knowing how he spends half of his life and then learning how he spends his other. Your favorite was finding the fiction in the story of his real life. He didn’t develop tech for Tony Stark, he developed teach with Tony Stark. He tested it. You also found out that he was a giant nerd and a total sweetheart.

But after all you learned about Peter that night, he didn’t tell you that you were apart of the reason MJ left.

It started out with him coming home hurt after fighting a random bank robber, a bullet grazed his shoulder and he acted like it was nothing. That’s when MJ started asking Peter to stay in the lab more and out of the field, but Peter couldn’t do that.

Then you became his mission. MJ noticed how obsessed he was with catching you and showing you the perks of being a hero. Every night he found you he came home and it was all he could talk about. “MJ I know she’s technically a villain-”

“-she is literally a villain-”

“-but you should have seen the way she changed everything. We were in Central Park and suddenly we were inside an abandoned building, it was amazing!”

No, Peter wasn’t going to mention that. He just wanted to do this. They could figure out her being a professional thief, and him being a fucking Avenger later. Right?

🕷🕸

Permanent tags: @sociallyeneptbarnes @valkyriesryde @buckysdumbmetalarm @rogvewitch @infj-slytherclaw @whimsicalatbest @readeity @nea90sweetie @aestheticrelated @pinknerdpanda @justabitoverobsessed @imsoft-barnes @actualdpshuri @goalexis123 @https-bucky @stuckyandsciencebros @moli1497 @agentpeggybarnesfanfics @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @screaming-fridge @geeksareunique @rhymesmenagerie @brokenthelovely @ivoryhazlewood @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @mushyjellybeans @sebbbystaaan @rayche776 @buggy-blogs @estillion14 @perpetually-tuned-out @stuckonjbbarnes @sandyclaws

Series tags: @stateoflovinged

[simmonsofshield]

Reassignment

Part 1/1

Pairing: none Characters: Kate Beckett, Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, Jemma Simmons, Philip Coulson

Summary: Amidst clean up after the Battle of New York, things happen and Officer Y/N ends up in the quinjet’s medical bay.

Words: 1900+

A/N:  Unplanned, but I guess in honor of my url change, Jemma has a small feature in this fic! This was originally gonna be a copy-paste of one of my fics from wattpad, but then I wanted to make it more accurate to New York so 98% of this is new writing. So much for trying to cut corners. 🤷😂 Loose tie-ins of Agents of SHIELD and Castle. (Characters, not really the shows..) Canonically, Skye (Daisy) wouldn’t have her powers yet, but my story my rules lol. So she does. Three weeks late (I was suppose to post this on the 1st), but at least I got it done, right? This is for @fanfictionaries​‘s classic trope challenge. I chose police au. Takes place after Avengers.

Police codes key: 12-David-19 [Precinct # - city section - police car id] used 9th precinct as reference 10-50 Disorderly (group, person, noise) non-crime 10-10 Possible crime (many tags, the one i use is P, suspicious person/prowler)

“Here’s what’s going on today,” Captain Beckett begins, “it’s been almost six months since the Battle of New York. Midtown South is still asking for help with crowd control and patrol of the area, as most of their officers are helping with clean up. I told them the 12th Precinct is happy to help as long as it doesn’t interfere with our daily patrols. Today they’re only asking for two, so Ryan and Esposito, it’s on you today. Just make sure no weirdos or teens with sticky fingers try to get in the rubble.”

“Yes Captain.”

“L/N, my office, please.”

You look at her with surprise, then over to the boys. Ryan is the first to speak, rolling his eyes, “Of course. Little Y/N getting special treatment once again. I bet you’re getting put on a really cool case. You know, she’s basically training you to be a mini her.”

You roll your eyes back at him, “Sounds like you’re just jealous because I rose to this rank in half the time it took you.”

“Ooooo...” Esposito calls from his desk, “want some ice for that burn?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles as he slumps back in his chair.

You laugh as you walk to Beckett’s office, the door being closed behind you. You start to get worried when she starts shutting the blinds too. “Captain?”

She sets a file in front of you and begins explaining. “Though Kevin was joking, he wasn’t wrong. You have impressed me since you came here from the academy. You were the youngest to be promoted to detective, and your persistence hasn’t gone unnoticed. Which is why I think you’re perfect for this particular assignment.”

She nods to the file, and you pick it up, opening it. Your brows furrow at the first page and you look back up at her, “I don’t understand. Philip Coulson died on a helicarrier before the attack on New York even happened. Didn’t Loki kill him or whatever?”

“Originally, yes.”

“Originally?”

“Most if it is redacted and classified, but what was released - specifically for you in this file, turn the page - was that some experimental tech was used and more or less brought him back to life.”

You read exactly that as she says it, but you’re left with more questions than answers with every page turn. “What do you mean specifically for me? How many people know he’s alive?”

She blows out some air, sitting down at her desk to look you in the eye, “Only SHIELD level 7 and above. We are of only a few civilians that know. This cannot leave this room. The only others that know are ones that will be a part of this team that Agent Coulson is putting together alongside Agent Maria Hill and Director Fury.”

Again, more questions. “But...I’m a homicide detective...not SHIELD...” You pause for a moment as you try to form a question with all the information that is now in your mind, “Why me?” is what you come up with.

She shrugs, “That’s a question for Coulson or Hill. I can’t answer it. You’ll work today but after that you’ll be with SHIELD and Coulson,” she nods back to the file, “I suggest you finish reading through that tonight.” She stands up and walks toward the door.

“I’m sorry, Captain, one last question,” she lets go of the door handle and turns around, “what does all this mean for this job? Am I like fired or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she says with a smile, “Agent Hill and I already discussed the technicalities, but basically what will be said is that you’re going undercover with SHIELD for a big operation and you’ll be gone for a few weeks. Which, really, isn’t that much of a lie.”

You nodded, somewhat understanding, “Yes, ma’am. See you in a few weeks, I guess.”

She also nods, smiling, “Likewise, detective.”

Nearing the end of your shift, you’re about to head back to the station when there’s an aggravated call on the scanner. “10-50. These crowds are getting out of hand. More officers needed in Midtown near Grand Central.”

You go back and forth in your head for a moment before deciding to respond, “Dispatch, add 12-David-19 to that 10-50 call. En route from East Village. ETA about 20 minutes.” You turn on your lights and try to get there as fast as you can.

Arriving on scene, you park about four blocks away, at Park and 38th, which is as close as you can get with all the rubble and destroyed buildings. This is the main drag of where most of the Avenger’s fight happened. It’s no surprise that half of New York is here to see the damage, even six months later.

Now on foot, you’re about halfway to Grand Central Station when you hear the breaking of glass and catch some suspicious activity out of the corner of your eye. You follow, talking into your radio, “This is 12-David-19. I’ve got a 10-10P. Kids breaking windows of businesses. It doesn’t look like they’ve stolen anything yet. I’m going to keep an eye on them. Requesting one or two officers for backup if anyone can leave Grand Central Station. 40th street, headed NorthEast.”

You casually follow at a distance until all of a sudden, “Whoa, dudes, check this out!” One of the kids picks up a weapon of some sort. Clearly not of this world and from the Battle, you’re 99% sure. He poses with it and one of his friends takes a picture of him with their phone. “I wonder what this button does.”

“Ahh!” Whatever came out of the weapon hits you directly in the shoulder and you fall to the ground. This is the first time the group of kids notice your presence. They fight for a moment, deciding whether to run or help. A groan from you cuts their argument short and most leave, while two stay.

By what you can tell with your blurry vision, they seem to be brothers. The one walking towards you is clearly friends with the ones that fled, while the other is younger. If you had to guess, you’d say early high school, 14-16, and 12ish for their ages.

You grab your radio and talk into it softly. Hopefully someone will be able to hear you. “Ambulance needed at location of 10-10. Officer down, shot with some sort of alien weapon.”

The older one kneels beside you and takes off his shirt, wrapping it around your wound, attempting to make a tourniquet. You let out a raspy laugh. It’s not quite right, but you appreciate the attempt. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

You can see the fear still on his face but he smiles nonetheless, “I’ve seen a few medical shows. I think this is right.”

“Anything to slow the bleeding. You’re doing good. What’s your name?”

“Derek Saunders. Am I going to jail?”

“N-no, why would you think that?”

“My friend shot you. Aren’t I an accessory or whatever?”

You shake your head, “You watch cop shows too?” you joke.

“My dad’s a cop. He’s helping at Grand Central right now.”

You cough out another laugh. How convenient. You’re about to tell him to call his dad on your radio when you hear another blast. It feels like it happens in slow motion. You watch as the burst of energy goes up at an angle and hits the building next to where you’re laying. You hear the boy yell something in the opposite direction, you’re assuming at his brother, who most likely got curious and picked up the alien weapon. You see the huge pieces of building falling towards you and Derek.

You let out a scream, though you’re not sure how loud it is due to your blood loss and how tired you’re getting. You close your eyes, knowing the inevitable is going to happen, and just waiting for it. You feel the ground rumble and try to open your eyes to understand what's going on, but you can’t.

Your world goes black.

You wake up to the sound of steady beeping. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the brightness of the fluorescent lights, but once you do you begin to panic. You know this is medical equipment and you’re in a room of some sort, but you’re not sure, something doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t seem like a hospital room.

You hear the whooshing of an automatic door sliding open. “It’s okay, officer. No need to panic. You are in great hands.” A pleasant British voice says to you. It does put you at ease a little.

The brunette seems to be taking your vitals or something at the moment, writing on a clipboard. You clear your throat, “Uh..where am I?”

“Oh of course,” she smiles embarrassedly, “welcome to the Bus. We’re with SHIELD. You’re safe.” she reassures.

“The Bus?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Yes,” your eyes shoot to the new voice, “welcome aboard.”

“Agent Coulson.” You try to sit up, but the pain in your shoulder stops you. You wince and lay back down.

“I assumed our meeting would be under better circumstances, but this’ll have to do.” he says with a smile. “Thank you, Simmons.” he nods at the girl and she leaves.

“What happened?”

“We heard your call on 40th.”

“Were you tracking me?”

“No,” he scoffs, “just making sure you didn’t get hurt before we got to meet you. Kinda failed at that, huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “Okay, but how the heck did I....” you trailed off, trying to think of how to word your question.

“Not die?” he looks at you, finishing your sentence.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You have Skye to thank for that. To avoid a lengthy explanation, she has the ability to ‘quake’ things apart and stopped the piece of building from falling on you and the young man helping you.”

“What happened to Derek and his brother?”

“They’re safe. And the weapon has been confiscated, now SHIELD property.”

You nodded, content with his explanations. There’s a lull in the conversation and you take the time to actually take in your surroundings. The room you’re in is glass on three sides, the fourth being a wall of shelves for medical items. You look down at yourself, not in a gown like a hospital, but someone’s tank top and shorts. You’d have to ask about that later. You focus on your shoulder, eyes going wide. It still hurts, but looks completely healed. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” you look at Agent Coulson, who is smiling like a proud dad, “you’d lost a lot of blood by the time we found you. We immediately put you in the tissue regeneration pod and got it going on your shoulder. It looks healed, but you’ll have to stay in here for a couple more days and be monitored.”

“Tissue regeneration? How long was I out?”

“From when we found you to getting you to the pod, only a few minutes, but we had to anesthetize you so you wouldn’t wake up during the regeneration, so you've been out for about 16 hours.”

“Oh.” is all you’re able to say, still taking it in. Tissue regeneration. How are you supposed to comprehend that? “Thanks, I guess.”

He nods, “So are you ready to discuss your new position with SHIELD?”

Besides the man being in front of you, you had completely forgotten about your transition from NYPD detective to possibly SHIELD agent? The two of you certainly had a lot to talk about. “Yes, sir.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

little ballerina (9/16)

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 3,111

summary: After The Snap was reversed and the world went back to normal, Natasha Romanov had one request of her team: to infiltrate and destroy the Red Room.

chapter warnings: like minimal swearing.

masterlist

a/n: So I felt like I should bring this up, but the reader is written as poc, specifically latina. Of course, it can be read as any ethnicity, but as a mixed latina, I rarely find fics written about us. Also, I rarely find representation in ballet. When more of the reader's past comes out and when she goes out into the world, it'll become more obvious. Once again, it can be read as any ethnicity, but yeah. I just wanted to bring that up. As always, let me know what you think!

Your nightly phone calls with Peter continued, until it turned into FaceTime.  It got to the point where as soon as the clock struck eleven, the other Avengers knew that you'd be going to your room and wouldn't come out until the next morning.  It gave you more structure.  Your sleep schedule was getting better and better with each passing night.  Mostly because Peter would remind you to take two melatonin at midnight on the dot, but that's beside the point.

The point was that you were getting better.

You had your daily sessions in the lab, and then after you would go to the studio with Natasha and dance until F.R.I.D.A.Y. called the two of you for dinner.  Usually it was Thai or Chinese.  You, however, were craving some authentic Mexican food.  Specifically, tamales.  You hadn't had any since before you were taken by the Red Room, and it was a craving that you hadn't had since you were fourteen.  You had gotten too used to the meal replacement shakes and smoothies.  They had just enough in them to keep you nourished and healthy.  The only solid food you had was at dinner, and it was always baked chicken and vegetables on a small bed of rice.  No seasoning, no sauce, nothing.  It was horrible.

You wiped the sweat from your face as you and Natasha entered the living area, the other Avengers already grabbing food from where it sat in the kitchen area.  Seemed like tonight was Indian food.  Bucky was piling chicken karahi onto his plate.  Bumping your hip against his, you smiled as you grabbed a plate.  "Leave some from the rest of us."

The brunette smirked as he bumped you back, sending you stumbling to the right.  "You need a shower.  You smell."

"Hey!"  You frowned as you grabbed a spoon to put some of the vegetable chettinad on your plate.  "I didn't sweat that much."  You couldn't help but check as he walked away laughing, relieved to find that you didn't smell that bad.  It was just Bucky being an asshole.

You joining the Avengers during mealtimes was a recent development.  You had sometimes eaten lunch with them, even though most of them had the bad habit of forgetting to stop whatever they were doing to get food.  That just meant that you had taken it upon yourself to bring food to whoever was in the compound if they didn't come by the kitchen to get it themselves.  It was almost always leftovers from the night before, but no one really minded.  There were worse things to eat.

Climbing onto the couch beside Natasha, you tried to catch up with the conversation happening around you.

"—can't do that.  We need you, Bucky, Rhodey, and Nat to go in.  She can't run tech if she's on the ground," Tony said, in a somewhat heated discussion with Steve.

The blonde raised his eyebrows, having forgotten the food that he had set on the coffee table in front of him.  "What about you or Peter?  Or even Bruce?"

"Peter doesn't get back from MIT until tomorrow, and I'm running with Bruce, Thor, Vision, Sam, and Wanda to the UN.  If we're not there in the morning for the meeting, they're going to freak out and we'll have another Accords situation again.  They're already irritated that I'm not bringing everyone."

That seemed to bring everyone's moods down a few pegs as it grew deathly quiet.

"I can do it."

Everyone turned to look at you, and you shrunk back a little.  They all seemed shocked that you would want to help.

"I thought you didn't like us," Sam said, breaking the silence.  Amusement lit up his eyes as he looked at you and the way that Natasha seemed ready to pounce on anyone who made a negative comment.

Shrugging, you pushed your chettinad around on a plate that was too nice for the rambunctious group.  At least one piece of dishware was broken each day, whether by clumsiness or one of the super soldiers forgetting how strong they were as they tossed it into the sink to be washed later.  "I don't not like you."

"Well, I'll be damned," Tony chuckled as he shook his head.  Pepper was seated to his left, swiping on her tablet.  You knew she was listening, but being CEO of Stark Industries was a tough job that gave few breaks.  "Are you actually offering to help us?"

"Listen, if you don't want my help, you can just say it," you retorted, feeling yourself grow a little defensive.

"I think she should help."  Everyone's eyes then turned to Wanda, who was tucked into Vision's side.  Their dynamic was weird, but good.  You watched her warily, not exactly sure where she was going with this.  "We're almost done with breaking the Stockholm Syndrome bonds in her brain.  The Red Room doesn't have a hold on her brain anymore, and she's good with tech."  Wanda hesitated, trying to find the right words.  "She's clever and thinks well on her feet.  If she wants to offer her help, we would be stupid not to take it."

You stared at Wanda for a long time, only half-listening as Tony agreed and began to make plans.  You weren't sure what her angle was.  After all, the two of you did not get along, to say the least.  Every interaction you two had was polite words through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.  For her to say such nice things about you...  Well.  She had to have some kind of angle.

"—sure to set your alarm early."  You turned your focus back on Tony, who had a smirk as he said, "That means no FaceTiming with Peter until three in the morning, you hear?"

Your cheeks went ablaze as you looked down at your food.  The other Avengers were chuckling into their own food, trying to hide their amusement.  "We don't...  We don't FaceTime until three in the morning," you muttered, clearly embarrassed.  But you weren't sure why.  It was just Peter, after all.

"Right," Bucky said, pretending as though he was going to come to your defense.  "They FaceTime until eight, when Peter has to wake up for class."  He sent you a wink from across the circle, causing you to roll your eyes.

You were trying to find the right words to respond, that wouldn't make the situation worse, when Vision said, "I think it's sweet that they stay on FaceTime even when they fall asleep.  It reminds me of Wanda and I during the Infinity War."  Wanda seemed to get just as embarrassed as you as she turned to look up at Vis, whispering into his ear.  Sometimes it was hard to remember that Vision was technically an A.I., even though he could morph himself to look completely human, just like now.  He was as human as human could be, in your mind.  He thought for himself and had feelings just like everyone else in the room.  The way he looked at Wanda was proof enough of that.

The only issue is that Vision's words hadn't helped your situation any.  They was more muffled laughter and teasing from Tony and Bucky, with Nat giggling beside you.  You don't think you'd ever heard her giggle, but it was nice.  She had become a huge maternal figure to you in the past week.  "Stop it," you ordered, pointing your fork at Tony and Bucky.  You had tried to have a stern look but you could tell it wasn't really working.  "Peter and I are just friends."

"Yeah, because all friends sleep in the same bed every night and Facetime when they can't be together," Bruce chimed in from the other side of Natasha.  He was usually pretty quiet during meal times, only throwing in a few jokes here and there.

"And Peter definitely calls all of his friends 'angel,'" Tony said, sending a round of laughter through the group.

You were sure that you were red as a tomato as you rubbed your hands on your leggings.  Even though you had cooled down from your workout with Nat, you found that you were starting to sweat again and your hands were getting clammy.  "How do you know about that?"

"So it's true?!" Sam exclaimed, grinning from ear-to-ear.

You didn't respond, choosing instead to stuff your mouth with a fork full of rice and vegetables.

Tony smirked as he wrapped an arm around Pepper.  "You're not the only one who FaceTimes with Peter, Y/N.  He may or may not have referred to you as angel.  It actually took a few times before I realized it was you he was talking about and not some girl he had met at MIT."

You felt yourself bristling at just the thought of him meeting some other girl, which just sent another wave of confusion through you.  Why did it bother you so much?  It was just Peter.  He deserved to be happy.  If he found a girl (or boy, you didn't judge) that made him happy, then you would be happy for him.  Maybe.

Wanting to get the attention off of you, you waved your hand nonchalantly towards Natasha and Bruce, who were sitting very close together.  "So you're making something out of nothing with Peter and I, but we're not going to talk about whatever's going on with those two?"

There were hoots and hollers as a blush crept up Bruce's neck, Natasha just looking at you in surprise.  "Thanks, Y/N, way to throw me under the bus," she muttered so only you could hear.

You shrugged, mouthing a 'sorry' before sitting back as everyone began to rail into the two.  You knew that if Clint were here, he'd be making smart ass comments, too, but he had gone home to his farm for the last two weeks.  He wasn't supposed to come back for another two weeks and he was bringing his wife and kids with him when he did.

A few minutes later, you stood and brought your plate to the sink.  You didn't even notice that Wanda had followed you until she slid in her plate next to yours.  Looking up at her, you crossed your arms over your chest.  "Uh...  Thank you.  For what you said earlier," you said quietly, glancing from the ground up to her face and back again.

"It was nothing," she insisted, rinsing off both her plate and yours.  "What I said was true.  You're smart."  There was quiet for a few moments as the older girl put the two plates into the dishwasher.  "I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot.  I'm very... protective of the others, and you weren't exactly friendly when you first arrived."  She looked up at you, her eyes softer than you had seen them before.  "Nat is one of my best friends.  We were the only two girls, besides Pepper, when you showed up.  It kind of forces you together."

You couldn't help but grin as you looked back towards the others.  True to her word, Natasha and Pepper were the only two women sitting among the men.  "You've gotta stick together to survive the sea of testosterone."  The girl beside you snorted, looking out towards the group, too.  You glanced up towards her, leaning back against the counter.  "I'm sorry for slapping you, by the way.  And... you know, being the way I was."

"That wasn't your fault," she said.  "I was the same way when the Avengers first found my brother and I.  HYDRA made my brother and I into weapons of mass destruction.  We actually hated Tony Stark with a passion before realizing that him and the rest of the Avengers were only trying to do their best.  They didn't mean to hurt people, they just meant to save as many people as possible."

You were a little surprised to find that her backstory was pretty similar to yours.  "Your brother?  What happened to him?"

Wanda swallowed, biting her lip.  You could see the pain overcoming her face.  "He died in Sokovia protecting Clint, who was protecting a kid."

"You miss him?"  You knew it was a dumb question to ask, but as someone who had also lost their family, you knew that it was an experience that linked the two of you together.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face.  "Every day."

"I miss my mama," you murmured, eyes watching Natasha as she laughed with the others.  "I have Nat now, of course, but it's not the same."

Wanda turned to you, her eyes filled with compassion.  "This new family doesn't mean you forget the old one.  But your mother would want you to be happy."

With that, she walked away and you felt a little bittersweet as you watched her tuck herself back into Vision's side.  You hadn't realized how much she had been through, but it made sense.  The Avengers had a talent for finding broken people and taking them in.  Your new family, as Wanda called it, was a collection of hurt people.

You were all broken people learning how to be whole again together.  You could see it in the way that Steve constantly checked that Bucky was beside him, that finding him again wasn't a dream, or in the way that Tony would squeeze Pepper's hand in his.  Each of you had made this little group into their family.  You couldn't imagine how bad it had been when the Civil War happened, let alone the Infinity War.  Peter had explained in detail what had gone on.  You had had little information since The Red Room barely gave you any.  All you knew was that one day, a bunch of the girls in the Red Room had disappeared in to no where, and then one day they just reappeared, talking about some place called Soul World.

It had been terrifying, to say the least.

As you joined the group once again, you realized you were unsure about telling Peter about you going on a mission in the morning.  You were only going to be in the quinjet running tech, of course, but it was still a mission.  There was still a chance you'd get hurt if some one found you.

You were periodically checking your phone as the group sat around, laughing and joking with each other.  They had transitioned from dinner to drinking.  When you had tried to grab something, though, Nat had swatted your hand away.  "You still have another year and a half," she ordered, causing you to purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest.  They were getting more and more relaxed and goofy as they drank more and more.  Even Steve and Bucky were finishing off the Asgardian Mead that Thor had brought with him.  He was bringing more in the morning when he arrived, so they weren't exactly worried about running out.

As soon as the clock hit eleven, you slid off the couch and tried to get to the elevator without the others noticing.  It was to no avail, though, since Sam caught sight of you and let out a long whistle, causing the others to turn and look.  You ignored their obnoxious cat calls and whistling as you stepped into the elevator, flipping the bird at them as the door closed.

You took a quick shower, your heart racing as the phone rang just as you were stepping out.  11:15 PM, on the dot.  A picture you had screenshotted of Peter before he left was on the screen, drool dripping down his face as he slept.  You had woken up before him one morning to find him still asleep on FaceTime.  You just couldn't resist and had quickly made it his contact picture.

Diving onto the bed, you answered the call and felt yourself relax as his familiar smile filled up the screen.

"Hey, Y/N, how was your day?" He asked, turning to swat away a pillow that his roommate, Ned, was throwing at him.  You had spoken to Ned in passing over FaceTime, though it was usually only for a minute or two before Peter kicked him out of his room.  Even though they both had their own rooms in the small apartment that Tony rented for them, they spent most of their time together when they weren't in class.

"Hi, Peter," you giggled, watching as Ned began to try to grab the phone, shouting your name.  "Hi, Ned, how are you?"

There was more shouting and you laughed as Ned finally got a hold of the phone and locked himself in the bathroom, Peter banging on the door in the background.  "I'm good, just wondering when I'm going to get to meet you."

"Oh, really?"

There was more shouting as Ned nonchalantly shrugged.  "Yeah, I keep trying to get Peter to bring me to the compound, but he said Mr. Stark won't like it, even though I'm his Guy in the Chair."

"His Guy in the Chair?"  Your head cocked to the side in confusion as you tried to understand.  There was a lot of pop culture references you still didn't get, but you were getting better at it with each day.  This seemed to be another one of those things.

Ned's eyes went wide as he realized what kind of a treasure he had stumbled upon.  Someone with little knowledge of pop culture that he could teach himself.  It was amazing.  "The Guy in the Chair is the guy in all the superhero movies that does the tech.  He sits behind the computer and helps the hero.  It's what I do when Peter goes on solo missions that aren't given to him by the UN or Mr. Stark."

"Wait."  Your eyes narrowed as you realized what he was implying.  "Are you telling me that Peter goes on missions alone?!"

Ned must've realized how upset you were, because he quickly shouted, "Peter, she wants to talk to you!"  He opened up the door, shoving the phone into said boy's hand before shutting himself into his room.

"What was that about?" Peter asked, a little out of breath and confused.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, are you going on missions alone?" You demanded, and watched as his eyes went wide.  "Because that better not actually be what I'm hearing."

He rubbed the back of his neck as he went to his room and shut the door with a soft click.  You could see how much of a mess was behind him, but you ignored that for now as you focused on the most pressing issue.  "Uh...  Maybe?"

"PETER!"

[acrobaticcatfeline]

The Fear of the Dragon Witch (triplets rolorem) Chapter One!!!!!

Word Count: 2762

TW: remus, deceit, swearing, sibling rivalry, I projected on Roman so anxiety, I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything!!!

Notes: Well it’s not posted when I said it was, but you know I got distracted so here it is, have the triplets fic we’ve all been waiting for!!! Hope you enjoy!!!

Pairings: side logicality, possibly more in the future.

Summary: “you are the absolute worst!” Roman had a hectic life, he had a full time job basically in theatre, honors classes, major anxiety and ADHD. Oh. And he had two brothers who were minutes apart from him in age. As you could guess, high school is a bit stressful.

“you are the absolute worst!”

Roman sat on the ground beside a chair that now seated his brother who just smirked down at him. He begrudgingly stood up and looked at his other brother who was watching with calculated indifference. He pouted and went to sit on the other chair, just to fall on his ass again. His cocky brother let out a delighted cackle and he finally sat in the stupid chair before he could recover.

“you’re an obnoxious haughty jackass and I hope that you choke on deodorant.”

“wow that’s creative baby bro! oh we’re so pwoud of youuu!”

“fuck off! I’m literally a minute younger than you!”

“you two act like toddlers. Hurry up, we have to get going, I don’t want to be late.”

“I don’t wanna be late… blah blah rant rant dick joke”

“Remus I’m going to literally drag you out of the door don’t test me.”

“do it you won’t no balls”

Remus very much regretted the next two minutes as he was, literally, dragged out of the house by his ears. Roman also felt secondhand regret as he had to rush even faster to finish getting ready. He ran out the door, locking it behind him, and jumped into the car. He grinned at the fact that he automatically won shotgun because he wasn’t mouthing off to Logan. He settled as Logan started driving, fussing with his hair in the mirror, before pulling on his Once beanie. He futzed around with it until it looked right and then stimmed with the hem of his Rent shirt, humming the song his shirt referenced quietly. He shook his shoulders trying to adjust his jacket without using his hands. Regardless of what it said he was not succeeding at being more ‘chill’. He was what would have happened if you asked a witch to fill a doll with anxiety and excessive amounts of energy with no coping mechanisms left to spare. Oh, and a love of the arts. He sure did love the arts.

“Ro, take this.”

Logan had handed Roman a small box, and Roman looked at him for a moment before opening it. In the box was a Maui hook on a cord, a spinner ring with a bird flying on it, and a fidget spinner designed like captain Americas shield. He smiled then looked at Logan a bit confused.

“why are you giving me this?”

“because you keep ripping your shirts when you play with them. That shirt was expensive, I’d like it to last. They’re stim toys, a spinner ring, a spinner, and a chew necklace. They’re silent and not destructive, I thought it might help.”

“…did you get this yourself?”

“mhmm. Saw them at the mall after work. Why?”

“its nothing, just… you didn’t have to get these for me lo. You should save your money; I know these aren’t cheap.”

“I think you forget that the whole reason I have the job I do is to buy you guys gifts. Mom and Mimi have the whole money thing handled.”

“yeah but-”

“Roman I love you, shut up and let me ok?”

“…ok”

“you guys are gross”

“and you act 5, what’s your point goblin”

When they got to school they all went their separate ways quickly, Roman giving Logan a brief hug before running off. Logan didn’t have to walk far to bump into his best friend Virgil and his significant other Patton. He glanced briefly at the chain around Patton’s neck and smiled seeing they were using their pronoun necklace. He laced his hand with Patton’s, bringing it up to place a kiss on it then went back to idly swinging. He let out a soft complement for Patton’s dress then started chatting with his two friends about last nights assignments.

Remus on the other hand found his friends still stalling in the parking lot, waiting for him. He wandered over with a grin on his face, glancing as Damián leaned on his motorcycle while talking to Remy. When he was close enough, Damián, Remy, and his brother Toby all gave him a smile. Damian threw out a bland shallow insult then kicked Remy before urging all of them to follow him to class.

Roman had to trek across campus to meet up with his friends. He had made a b-line to the drama room, grinning wide as he saw his favorite people doing one thing or another on stage. He saw Valerie swaying around mid-stage with a broom, singing quietly in a voice that was beyond rehearsed, Joan, who was fidgeting with some of the wires on the walls, their SO Talyn sitting nearby and humming a tune, and he saw Terrance, standing on some of the set pieces, fixing up other pieces, all while singing wonderfully to one of the songs from the upcoming musical.

He climbed up the stage offering hellos to everyone and making his way to the ladder center stage, climbing up to adjust the cording for the hook that hung there for a yet to be finished prop. After fully fixing it, he descended and went to the prop corner where all the props, finished or not, sat. He grabbed the giant moon and three different cans of paint and his personal paintbrush set and started coating the crescent with the scattered look of craters with the occasional splash of pure white accenting the light blues and grays and the dark blacks that formed shadows. After about 10 minutes, he heard the backstage door clatter open and he smiled. He turned his head with the rest of them, their eyes all landing on Mr. Sanders who had two drink holders and a donut crate. He smiled back and lifted his arms carefully. Then set everything down on the table near the door.

“coffee and donuts anyone?”

Everyone walked over in time, to grab their coffee and their donut, knowing exactly which one was theirs before walking over. When Roman finally got up from his project and got his, he grabbed the one in the holder with nothing else, separate due to its contents, and grabbed the Boston crème donut. He took a taste of his drink and smiled; Starbucks had some amazing hot chocolate. He sat back down next to his project and set down his drink, quickly snatching up the blow-dryer to speed up the paints setting process.

The five of them were always there in the mornings, they were in fact, trusted with their own sets of keys for the theater and the smaller classroom adjacent. Well technically 4, as Talyn wasn’t actually in the class, but they were consistently there, and was always helping when they could spare the time. They helped before and after school, and they held lunch meetings every day, which would eventually devolve from Important Drama Class Discussion to gossip circle. They would pop by in between classes to see if they could help, they would create sets like magic, not there the day before and completed by the end of the next, they were the committee that helped Mr. Sanders choose the musical for the quarter, they helped grade, they did everything a TA did and more without being asked and without having a TA credit.

The four students all took at least two different classes with Mr. sanders and also had leading roles in their departments. Roman and Joan both lead tech, Joan being the stage manager and Roman being the assistant stage manager, and Valerie and Terrance would aid there if they didn’t always have a spot in the musical productions. Most of the time the two of them would sit and run lines for hours at a times, and often Mr. sanders would join them, taking the parts of the other characters they weren’t playing. They had a class with just the four of them, and then Valerie and Terrance had an acting specific class, where Joan and Roman shared a technical class as well as a stage prep class.

Roman didn’t know how the others had time to do all of it, since they all had super intense classes outside of theatre and jobs on top of it all. He didn’t have a job, he had accelerated in middle school, so he was two years ahead in English and math, and a completed second language course, and he had finished his last math credit the year before, leaving him with world history, biology, and a senior level English course, he also had a dance class, but nobody was going to talk about that. He wore a face mask in that class and had the teacher call him a different name because he was embarrassed about it. He was sure if anyone saw him doing ballet that his life would be over. Not even his brothers knew, his moms did though, and they were very supportive. That was completely irrelevant.

The others had just left to help Thomas-Mr. sanders! Get something from his car, leaving him to his devices. He stood up, hot chocolate in one hand, a broom in the other and he started to sing to himself, dancing about the stage with eyes closed in bliss.

“Babe, there’s something tragic about you Something so magic about you Don’t you agree? Babe, there’s something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No ‘who cares’, no vacant stares, no time for me”

While he sung, he spun around and around, oblivious to the world, even the loud clanking of the door opening. He got louder, more confidant, he leapt over the obstacles he knew were there, as if his eyes weren’t shut and he was aware. Valerie and Joan had pulled out their phones, quickly starting a video, not moving other than to let their teacher get a better look. Roman sung with a deep emotion and a vibrato deep in his chest, having perfect form in his singing as well as with his dancing. His falsetto rang out just as strong and he just continued to dance and sing.

“Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door”

And then his eyes opened, and he was glad he had drained his cup because it flew out of his hands as did the broom as the calm bliss drained from his features and filled back up with panic and fear. He pressed to his chest, blindly checking for his book bag, backing up slowly before turning and leaping off the stage and running out the doors, the screams from his friends and teacher calling for him going silent in his ears as the only thing he heard was the blood pumping through his head. He hid in the bathroom stalls, sending a text to Logan.

‘Help help Logan I can’t breathe I’m in the bathroom next to the theater please I can’t I can’t breathe’ it had an immediate response, shorter than most his texts ever are, a simple ‘omw’ shot back seconds later, and within 5 minutes he heard the door open and Logan call his name. By then he had been chewing on his new necklace obsessively, and when Logan called for him, he scrambled up and out, throwing himself into his brothers’ arms. Logan held him protectively, calmly waiting for the sobs to quiet. Eventually they did and Logan pulled back to look at Roman properly. Roman’s hair looked stressed and messed up almost beyond repair and his beanie was pulled lower than normal. He frowned.

“Roman what happened?”

“it-its nothin, its real- it’s really dumb I should- I should just suck-suck it-suck it up, it doesn’t ma-matter I’m sorr- I’m sorry lo I just- I just-”

“Roman breathe. Breathe first. I’m sure its not dumb if it caused this ok? Just breathe and explain when you can.”

“o-okay. …they saw- they saw me singing. And-and dancing and I can’t believe I was so dumb to let them see how am I gonna face them now lo they’re gonna hate me!!!”

“hey. You’re making jumps in logic. I know you understand the connection, but I don’t okay? How are you getting from your friends seeing you singing to them hating you?”

“because! Because! Um… I-I don’t know, I just, I know they will!”

“Roman what you’re experiencing is a cognitive distortion. You’ve come to the conclusion that you singing will cause your friends to hate you, and I know from experience that if you had any real reason to believe that they would hate you over something this inconsequential you wouldn’t have befriended them. Have faith in them ro. Give them a chance to prove you wrong before deciding this.”

“… o-okay. Do you, do you really think they don’t hate me?”

“I don’t know your friends very well, but I highly doubt anyone would hate you for this. Now, when you’re ready, go back to them. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

“yeah… yeah okay. Thank you, Logan, you’re a life saver”

“don’t mention it.”

Roman took a few more deep breaths and gave Logan one last hug before going back to the theatre room. He shyly opened the giant hall doors, feeling like an ant in the huge auditorium. The first face he saw when coming back in was Joan who was sitting on the edge of the stage on their phone, legs dangling off the end. They raised their head at the doors sound and brightened. They sat still however, and then came Mr. sanders. He had rushed forward and met him where he was with an outstretched arm and a smile on his face. Roman took his hand and let out a yelp as he was dragged forward. He couldn’t quite concentrate on what his teacher was saying but he knew he was smiling so he hoped it was good.

“-Roman can you sing what you were singing before for me again? Please?”

They were on the stage now, and Joan was nearby with a wide smile. He looked between them and Mr. sanders, and slowly and cautiously nodded. He began the song again, slowly, quietly, but by the time he was at the chorus he was belting out the lyrics once more. His chest felt light, like it was filled with helium and was floating away. His friends all stood grinning at him as he sung, and he was elated.

Imagine for a moment that this was a child’s cartoon, impossible wacky things happen to show emotion. If it were a tv show he would be flying, hair blowing around his head as he was fully submerged by the pure joy of singing. This isn’t a tv show however, and so its just a boy singing his heart out on stage. He wrapped up the song, shocked to see his teacher nearly bouncing from excitement.

“you’re our lead!!! You are a perfect cast!!! You have the perfect range and dance style and I haven’t seen you act but Roman you’re it!!! You’re what we’ve been looking for!!!”

“wh-what? No, I, I can’t do that! I couldn’t get on stage and perform like that!!! I-I didn’t even audition! You-you can’t just, just give me the part! Mr. sanders I’m honored but I can’t let you-”

“Roman, I know you can do it. Also, it’s quite exactly my job to give kids the parts they’ve earned, and that song was enough to see that you deserve that role. You can still say no I guess, but really Roman, I honestly believe you’re exactly the person I’ve been looking for this role. I would be forever grateful if you took me up on it.”

And what could he truly say to that? To his closest friends who looked so thrilled, so proud of him. He couldn’t say no, that would let them down. He looked up at his teacher, the man who would be his mentor for at least another two years after this one and said yes. He agreed and he was terrified. But, singing and dancing made him happy, so he doubted he would end up regretting it completely. He brought his chew necklace up, absently chewing as his peers and teacher cheered. He was going to… have a whole lot to explain to Logan and Remus. And mom and Mimi. That will be… fun.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @demented-dukey @karmels-stuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank my fanyou for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[helloalycia]

photoshoot // brie larson

summary: you're working at your uncle's studio as his personal assistant, when Brie Larson is the next celebrity to stop by for a photoshoot

warning/s: none, except second hand embarrassment maybe 😂

author's note: I cringed writing this, that's all am saying lmao. But seriously, Brie can run me over with her car and I'd thank her.

masterlist

          "Think you can grab me a coffee, Y/N?" my uncle asked, messing around with his camera.

         I saluted before going to the snacks area to pour him a coffee. I was at yet another photoshoot with my uncle since I was his personal assistant. I was at a time in my life where I wasn't sure what I wanted to do – I had dropped out of university and didn't have any plans, so my parents encouraged me to work as my uncle's personal assistant at his photography agency.

         Of course, they 'encouraged' me, which meant I had no choice, but I didn't mind since I got paid for it and I pretty much got to meet celebrities every now and then. Yeah, he was a celebrity photographer.

         I had to do mediocre tasks like get coffee for him, make sure his phone would always be answered if he couldn't answer it himself, fetch his lenses when he left them in the car. It wasn't too bad and he wasn't annoying about it. Plus how could I say no to decent pay and meeting celebrities?

         So, here I was in the midst of preparation for yet another celebrity to be photographed. It was some actress – Brie Larson – who I wasn't familiar with nor seen much of, but apparently she was quite the star. I just wasn't that much into movies, I guess.

         "She's going to be huge," I heard one of the tech guys saying as I poured my uncle a coffee. "Did you know she's going to be Captain Marvel?"

         I smiled to myself, finding the excitement around set really cute. I put a lid on the coffee before going back to my uncle to give it him.

         "For you," I said, handing it him with a smile. "Anything else I can do?"

         He thanked me and took a sip before looking around. "Not for me at the moment. Miss Larson is currently in hair and makeup, so I guess you can just hang around until she's ready."

         I chuckled. "Sounds cool, but I still don't see why it's necessary to call her 'Miss'. I mean, Miss Larson, Miss Kane, Miss Cabello, Mr Mendes, Mr Horan – they have names."

         My uncle gave me an amused smile. "Fine. Brie is in hair and makeup. Happy now?"

         I grinned. "Ecstatic."

         He rolled his eyes playfully. "You're a handful, you know that?"

         "Yeah, but you love me."

         He sighed, resisting the urge to smile. "Mhm."

         I walked away with the satisfaction of knowing I had bugged him, before going to find a friend I'd made whilst working here. Her name was Yaz and she was one of the caterers. It may be a little obvious why we became friends...

         "Surprised you haven't devoured the food spread," she said when she saw me approaching her.

         I glared at her playfully. "I've eaten already, thank you very much."

         She laughed. "Of course, my bad... so, you excited to meet Brie Larson?"

         I sat in the seat beside her that looked out onto the set built for the photoshoot. "Er, I guess? I don't really know who she is if I'm being honest."

         Yaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? She just got announced as Marvel's new superhero."

         "Captain Marvel," I repeated what I'd heard earlier, not knowing what the big deal was.

         Yaz stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Uh, duh! Do you know how big she's gonna be? Like, Chris Evans big. Robert Downey Jr. big. Scarlett Johansson big."

         "So, big," I agreed, snickering now.

         Yaz sighed dramatically. "You're not listening."

         I laughed. "I am! I just never got into those superhero films. Iron Man, Captain America, Superman."

         "Superman is from DC, not Marvel," Yaz corrected.

         "Exactly my point," I stated, giving her a knowing look. "I mean, congrats to Brie for becoming big. But like, what's the big deal?"

***

         "You didn't say she was literally the most beautiful human being ever," I said to Yaz, jaw dropped as I watched my uncle snap pics of the blonde goddess before us.

         Yaz chuckled quietly. "You're so gay."

         I smacked her arm lightly. "Do you not see it? She's literally stunning!"

         Yaz nodded in agreement. "I can agree to that..."

         Brie was finally being photographed for the first costume change of the photoshoot and Yaz and I, not being needed at the moment, were sat with a clear view of the shoot.

         I was used to seeing stunning celebrities being photographed all the time. Did it make me feel like a peasant? Yes. Did I always want to marry them on sight? Of course! But this was different. She was like, totally hot. And I could say that, right? I mean, I'd never see her again. No biggie.

         "When does her movie come out again?" I mumbled to Yaz, still stuck on the wonder before me. Damn, she had a good jawline.

         "It's not been announced," Yaz said, laughing at me. "Thought you didn't like superhero films."

         I cleared my throat. "If she's the lead, I'll watch anything."

         Yaz laughed at my response, but once again, I was simply admiring the blonde as she laughed it up during her photoshoot.

         Eventually, a break was called and the first thing I did was drag Yaz to the snacks table as if I was the one who'd been hard at work.

         "These mozzarella puffs are amazing," I complimented Yaz, before stuffing three more in my mouth.

         "You've told me a million times," she said, watching me with amusement.

         "And I'll tell you a million more," I retorted, grinning at her. "Never stop making them please."

         Yaz laughed and filled her plate with some food. "Glad to hear, I won't... we've got another hour to go yet. You might wanna stop stuffing yourself."

         I sighed, glancing over my shoulder to see Brie and my uncle reviewing the photos he'd taken.

         "I don't think I can watch this for a whole other hour," I said, looking back to Yaz. "I mean, I'm used to celebrities rocking up here and looking like Gods amongst us mere mortals, but–"

         "Y/N." Yaz laughed, shaking her head.

         "What? It's true!" I said, putting my plate down on the table so I could make a point. "It's like Hollywood doesn't hire ugly actors ever! They're all hot pieces of ass, ready to be served to the world through my uncle's lens! And now we've got the hottest piece of ass of all in studio!"

         "Y/N–"

         "No, Yaz, seriously, think about it," I continued, on a roll now. "The last time everyone was this excited was when Shawn Mendes was here. Yeah, he was pretty cute, but damn, Brie Larson? She looks like she could bench press everyone in this room without breaking a sweat. She makes Shawn Mendes look like a worm."

          “Y/N, seriously, just–"

         "Okay, okay, I'm done," I said, picking up my plate again. "All I'm saying is Brie Larson is hot."

         As I put another mozzarella puff into my mouth, I noticed Yaz smiling awkwardly. I was about to question her, but then I heard someone clear their throat from behind me, making me turn around.

         "Oh, shit," I mumbled, my mouth full of cheese.

         Out of all of the people who could have been stood behind me, it just had to be Brie Larson herself.

         "Hi, erm, I just wanted to ask if you guys knew where I could get some more water?" she asked, a faint pink blush on her cheeks.

         I was speechless, unable to do anything other than stare. I'd just said all of that. And she heard. Everything. Everything.

         "Yeah, I'll go get some more," Yaz mumbled politely, before leaving Brie and I alone.

         I came back to my senses after thirty more seconds of silence. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I blurted, eyes wide with embarrassment.

         "It's, erm, it's okay," she got out, obviously a little embarrassed herself. "Technically you didn't say anything insulting, so, I guess, thanks...?"

         I scrunched my face up with awkwardness. "I called you a hot piece of ass and I'm very sorry. I'm not trying to objectify you or anything. I mean, I'm not saying you aren't a hot piece of ass, because you are, but like, you're probably more." I widened my eyes when I realised how offensive that sounded. "I mean, of course you're more! I don't know because I don't know you, but yeah, you're, erm, hot, but like, other things too, y'know?"

         Brie suppressed the urge to laugh which made me feel a little better. Maybe she wasn't offended after all.

         "Thank you," she said, her eyes meeting mine which made my heart have wild palpitations. Shit, why did she have to have such kind eyes?

         I forgot how to breathe as I said, "No problem."

         "Here you go, Miss Larson," Yaz said, returning with several bottles of water. She set them down on the table before handing Brie one. "Sorry about that."

         Brie shook her head. "No worries. Thank you."

         I smiled awkwardly as she walked away, slightly confused. I released a breath before looking to Yaz with wide eyes.

         "Why didn't you tell me she was stood right behind me?!" I whisper-shouted.

         "Are you kidding me?!" she countered, also whisper-shouting. "I tried several times!"

         I face-palmed. "Oh my god, I just called Brie Larson a hot piece of ass several times. To her face."

         "At least you don't have to see her again, like, face to face," Yaz reasoned, shrugging.

         I nodded with relief. "True. Very true."

         "Y/N?"

         I sighed as I heard my uncle call for me. I waved goodbye to Yaz before going to my uncle, who was stood on set with–

         "Oh, shit."

         "Brie, I would like to introduce you to my niece, Y/N Y/L/N," my uncle said, a proud smile on his lips.

         I smiled awkwardly, stopping by my uncle's side. Brie looked to me with a friendly smile before pursing her lips, suppressing a grin, when she saw who it was.

         "She's my personal assistant here," my uncle continued, not sensing what was going on here. "She's been here for a while now and I'm sure she appreciates you being here as much as–"

         "She knows what I think," I cut my uncle off, rubbing my temples as I felt a headache coming on. "Right, Brie?"

         Brie laughed. "Lovely to meet you again." She looked to my uncle, who was confused. "I met her no more than a minute ago. Literally." She looked back to me, an amused glint in her eyes. "Nice to put a name to a face."

         I felt my stomach turn as I grew embarrassed all over again.

         "Well," my uncle concluded, a confused smile on his face. He looked to me. "I guess I don't need to introduce Brie then. She's an actress and a–"

         "Hot piece off ass?" Brie filled in, enjoying watching me squirm apparently.

         "Huh?" My uncle was definitely confused now.

         "I'm gonna be over there," I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb, feeling my cheeks heat up. I looked to Brie, who was most definitely enjoying watching me squirm. "Nice to meet you... Brie...bye..."

         I walked away as fast I could, hearing her laugh from behind me.

         God damn it. Why did she have to be so hot?

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Unsustainable - (8/9)

!Disclaimer: I do NOT ship the people on the banner or any gifs showing up in the fanfic. They helped me visualize and are part of my writing experience. Much love for Tom Holland & Cody Christian!

Summary: An accident happened in which the reader has gotten powers. The reader is struggling to adjust to his new powers but also to keep them secret from Peter as they become closer.

Pairings: Peter Parker x Male Reader

Word count: 2694

The Raven sat there, its tail feather calmly blowing by the breeze from the window. The simple dinner was sufficient to regain some strength. A homemade salad with some chicken, backed in garlic and sweet soy sauce. A snuff of garden herbs to finish it off. You grab a piece of chicken and hold it up beside you, tilting your head to one side. Making way for the Raven. The Raven hops towards you and climbs onto your shoulder. With its beak, it gracefully picks it from between your fingers. You continue to feed him several smaller pieces. Soon after it hops back and takes place in the window.

Looking out over the city. Meanwhile, you feel the headache start to subside slowly. Exploring your new powers drew a lot of energy. Not only physically but also mentally. Communicating with the Raven was difficult at first. Requiring a lot of focus from your nerves to concentrate on the sound. But also separating your own thoughts from the thoughts you ‘told' the Raven. Since it was always around, at school, in the bus, walking home. The information it gave felt if your mind went into overdrive at first. Overflowing with things to process. Keeping your focus on everyday tasks was hard. Hearing voices that aren't there. Not following conversations made to you. It got you into several awkward situations. Multitasking was something you had to grow accustomed to fast. But within several weeks its potential what could be had shown itself. You knew what happened five miles away from home. When ordering a pizza, knowing exactly where your order was. If the bus ran late, you knew. Bad weather coming up. You knew. A sense of clairvoyance surrounded you. Every time taking it a step further. For once, to test your power, you tried to order the ravens around. You had control over the ravens in the area. Not knowing how many, but instead of receiving the information you wanted to send them on a quest for once.

  Standing on the roof, in the afternoon light. You send them out. After mere minutes, the results came in. One by one, ravens landed in front of you. Each and every one of them holding a coin in their beak. The bowl in front of you filled up quickly. Pleased with the result, you counted the money and treated yourself to a sweet milkshake. As a way to celebrate success.  But the next morning your actions turned out to be disastrous. It was all over the news. Ravens snatching coins out people's purses, robbing fruit stand owners of their hard earned money and many more. YouTube was full of videos people getting attacked by ravens. The ravens weren't to blame, it was your decision. Your responsibility. All because of a little ‘experiment'. Learned the hard way.

Recollecting the training of today was more successful. From a mere touch, you would be able to transfer your human consciousness into that of the Raven. Easier said than done. Seated properly onto the roof, you tried several times. Sharpening your nerves, focusing your senses, concentrating your breathing. Slowing your heart rate. In the course of the day, you managed, though it was short-lived.  You managed to glide through the air for a couple of seconds as the Raven. An incredible feeling, feeling the cold wind, the freedom. The unlimited possibilities flashing before your eyes. But the short connection resulted in a substantial headache. Though in the future, he was convinced you would be able to do it without touch. The headaches were something you grow out of. Nosebleeds don't. Unfortunately.

 The bell rang. Must be the pizza delivery guy.  Faster than expected.

You're eyes widen in disbelief, nailed to the floor, throat falling dry. The hairs on your arms rise at the sight of the person standing in front of you. You try to stammer out a few words, but fail to do so. Words fall short to welcome your guest. Luckily he invites himself in as soon as you open the door. "Here, on the house kiddo." Stepping inside, his eyes survey the room. In your hands, you hold the pizza you ordered just minutes ago.  You stand there, unable to comprehend what was about to unravel in front of you. Looking at him as he wanders around the living room. "Nice touch on the family pictures. How cute." Holding the frame with your 5-year-old birthday pictures your way. As if he's looking for a comparison. "S-Sir… I… what." The many thoughts racing through your mind, block any communication. You had spent many nights thinking about what you wanted to say to him when you would meet him. Day in, day out you pondered about what you wanted to tell him. The feelings you had, the anger, the rage. But now the rage you felt towards him has locked away deep. "Calm down kiddo. Call me Tony. We gotta talk." His hand firmly grasping yours, the other on your shoulder. What follows can solely be described as an awkward handshake. Your arm was more like a rag, as you stood there dumbstruck staring at him with big eyes. "Better start on that pizza. What is keeping him?" Stark looking down the hallway. Seconds after, down the far corridor the sound of boots fast pacing across the marble stone floor came closer. Dad. Suited in a black suit, blue tie and phone in one hand he storms towards the door. An all too familiar sight in all those years. "I will. Yes, Johan. Yes… Of course… You know me right. Ok. I tell him that. Gotta go. Bye.” Coming to a standstill just at the door. “I knew it. That’s my boy. That trip to CERN wasn’t for nothing. C’mere. Gimme a hug.”

 “Right, let’s talk. I got great news for you (Y/N). And I wanted to get your dad’s approval before I got here.”

 “I-…I still don’t get it.”

 “Stark Industries is scouting for young talents. We’ve been doing so for years. We want the best and brightest minds together. And doing in-house training and schooling is the best method there is. And you sprung out in the results on school. The trip to… CERN. You got a bright mind, kiddo. Not to mention, your friend Peter did a good word for you as well.”

 “I knew you got the best parts of me. Such a smartass.” Dad proudly affirming before Stark could continue.

 “Yeaaah… So… Let me have a word with the kid for a moment." Pressing one hand on your shoulder, and the other waving your dad away. You watch him turn towards the study, while on his way he shoots you two thumbs up with a big grin before turning into his study, shutting the door behind him. Leaving you with Tony Stark alone. "Listen kiddo. Since you are still in school. I'd like to offer you an internship. Something like your friend Peter is doing right now. But somewhat different. We'll work out the details when we get there." While Stark sits you down and continues to lecture you. You feel zoned out. Numbed by what's happening. His words don't seem to reach you. You only feel your heart rate increase. Pounding in your chest. Not only the fact that the famous Tony Stark was addressing you personally, but how everything just went south. How could this have happened? Does Stark have a clue about your powers? Did Peter have a say in this? Going to that tower is wrong. They'll found out in minutes. Stark's tech will scan you, maybe take a DNA sample while you… Your mind races, jumping from one conclusion to another. Imagining the worst scenarios. Not only for you. But also for you ‘ally'. All the while Tony Stark is still going on, showing holograms and projection schematics around the room. The scenarios running through your head made you so nervous, that speech became almost impossible. The lump in your throat not helping either. You at least try to make out some words.

 "B-But I…" Nothing more comes out. Your throat falls dry as soon as Stark turns his attention to you the moment you try to speak. Leaving you speechless.

 “You know what, before you do anything rational. How about we do a tour around the Stark Tower first? Meet some of the Avengers, perhaps see their jet. You’ll love it. FYI, I already got your dad’s permission. I’ll inform your dad and make Happy bring the car around. You… eh… wanna dress up perhaps?” Pointing out your sweatpants and sweater combination.

 In a disillusioned way, you stumble to your room. Picking a suitable attire for the tour, you rumble through your closet. On the other side of the apartment, you hear to two men discuss something. From this distance inaudible. You reach out for your phone, ripping the charging cable out the socket. Trembling fingers play around the screen, dialing the number you never meant to forget. Hiding behind the closet door, you bring the phone to your ear. The line connects, then several weird technical sounds creak through the speaker. Your heart skips a beat, a disturbing sound. Afraid someone might have heard it. You peek around the door of the closet, keeping an eye out for the door. The line connects thoroughly as the other side seems to have picked up the phone. You have a feeling someone is listening. No time to waste. "I need help. T-T-Tony… Stark here and is taking me to the tower. Please… Help." You try to whisper.

 "I see…" The short sound rang with bitterness. His voice still instilled goosebumps when he spoke. Breaking the line shortly after. Leaving you with nothing but questions. "You ready?" Stark standing in your doorway. Watching you nervously stuff your phone into your pocket. "Looking better already." His eyes running from top to bottom. "Follow me."

 The drive was nerve-racking. Your body was shaking, it was barely controllable. If your feet weren't bouncing up and down, your knee was. Every piece of nail left on your fingers fell victim to your wandering mind. Staring out the window, expecting something. From somewhere. Pulling hope from the smallest sound, the simplest event. When stopping for a traffic light, your eyes scan the crowd passing by. Your eyes run by every person coming past. Hoping that someone would do something. Hoping they would be involved. To save you from this crazy rollercoaster. You saw the Raven swooping by from time to time. Having nothing to report. Panic started to kick in. Only a few miles to go. You could just jump out…

 “Something is incoming sir.” Happy glances back at Tony, sitting behind him. “Seems to be one of your suits sir.”

 Tony grabs his phone. "I didn't do anything." His finger swiping across the screen. A touch on the side of his glasses opens communication to his AI. As well as revealing the glass roof in the car. You turn your eyes to the sky, looking left and right for any sign. Meanwhile, Starks addressing his AI with commands.

 “Closing in fast sir.” Happy nervously awaiting his boss’s order. “Northeast, one o’clock. Coming from 54th Avenue. Low altitude.” All eyes turn to the front of the car. In the far distance, over the traffic, the light of thrusters can be seen as they turn the corner. Coming straight for the car. “Happy, activate defense matrix. I can’t seem to disable it, and I don’t wanna take a risk.” Happy’s hand reaches for the central panel, hitting several buttons and swiping through menus. “Stay close kid.” Starks’s hand resting upon your shoulder. The single touch makes you jump right up. “I get it, you nervous. Don’t worry. It’s gonna be alright.”

 In silence, the three passengers watch as the Iron Man suit closes in on the car. "Shit! Hold tight!" Happy shouts. On the suit, from both shoulders, small boxes pop up. Releasing a swarm of bright illuminating missiles, closing in even faster on the car. What started as a small cloud of missiles now turned into a maelstrom of tiny orange colored missiles. On the streets, panic starts breaking out. Cars reversing into each other while large masses of pedestrians run past the car, looking back in fear of the incoming swarm of missiles. Two large arms wrap around you, before you can react, you are pushed flat onto the seat. Tony Stark protecting you, holding you tight to his chest.  His eyes shut tight. “You’re going to be alright,(Y/N). I’ll pro-”

 Stark's last words fall silent in the abhorrent, excruciating sound of pounding and ripping metal. The wave of missiles hammering the exterior. Rocking the car on its wheels. Bright orange flashes color the windows. The smell of burned rubber and smoke fill your nose. There seems to be no end to the uninterrupted stream of missiles. The sound of glass cracking and explosions all around drown out all other sounds. Eventually wrapping the interior in complete darkness. Tony Starks grip didn't let go as you feel yourself being thrown around, hitting the roof, seat, and back up again. The explosions seem to be getting heavier and more frequent from all other sides. Shaking the car so heavily you don't know what up and down is anymore.

 Suddenly the cars rocks from side to side and silence fell upon the car. Slowly opening your eyes, you take in the damage. Dust, smoke and torn leather seats, stained with blood. What once was a car was now a horrible mess of warped metal and hanging wires. An occasional spark from the dangling wires breaks the silence. How are you still alive? Shoots through your mind. Because of the adrenaline you only manage to feel several small cuts itch onto your skin. Other than some minor bruises, you can still move your legs and arms. Though your muscles feel sore and stretched. You look at Stark, slowly pulling himself up. His glasses show several cracks, a small cut on his forehead and pieces of glass scattered on this back. None seems to have made its way through his jacket. "Y-You're hurt?" His voice sounding rasp.

 Looking over the top edge of his glass, breathing heavily. Slowly try to get back up. Checking his surroundings. Happy groaning from the front. "Sir? You alright?" As you feel your head spinning. You hold on the door handle. Your intestines feel entirely off balance. Your stomach is about to be turned upside down. As you feel something coming up. A strong push on your side of the car sends it flying several meters until it collides with something. With your last strength left you manage to hold onto the door. In horror you watch Tony being smacked into the door. Happy befalling the same fate. Regaining your bearings, you try to reach out for them. But instead, your body decides to let go of your meal. Vomiting all over the floor. The door handle then gets violently removed out of your hand. Sending you almost flying out the car. Chunks of vomit flying along. Scrambling back up, you see the Iron Man suit with the door in its hand. Behind you, you hear several words mutter. The Iron Man suit reaching out for you. Now it strikes you. The eyes. A bright green light shines through. He did this.

 Barely able to stand on your feet. Your legs unable to support your own weight, the suit reaches out for you. Assisting you out of the car. You feel a tug on your jacket. From the corner of your eye, you see Stark hanging on. Before you can respond. The Raven lands on the shoulder of the suit. Opening its beak and releasing a screech into the car. Although your ears are still ringing from all the violence, you actually notice nothing special. But Tony, on the other hand, jumps back screaming in pain covering his ears. You look onto him as you are slowly being helped onto the street. The suit then picking you up and flying away from the scene.

[imaginedeux]

Catch Fire (P.P. AU) Pt.2

Part: 1

Word count: 1,340

“MR. STAAAAAARK!” Peter yelled, running into Tony Stark’s office. “MR. STAR-”

“What is it Spider-ling?” Tony asked getting up from his desk, already fed up with the head ache the teenager was bringing him.

“T-There’s another h-h-hero! There was f-f-fire, and massive amounts of carbon, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, o-oxygen! She could get into Karen, and she kept calling me kid, and her eyes lit up, and the police and she calls herself ‘Messiah’ and-” Peter rambled, taking off his mask. With him flailing his arms around, to him yelling at the top his lungs, Tony could only understand bits and pieces of what the teen was saying.

“Alright, hold up. You’re going to have to run that again, and in a voice that won't give me a migraine.”

“There’s another hero she calls herself Messiah. She can control fire, Karen did a scan on her and she had massive amounts of carbon, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, oxygen, and another unknown element. She was able to hack into Karen, and-” Peter explained before Tony stopped him in his tracks.

“W-what do you mean they hacked into Karen? Thats impossible!”

“That’s what I thought as well sir.” Karen spoke from around them. “But she was able to bypass all the walls you put up sir. I did another test, but she doesn't seem to have connection to me at this moment.”

“Karen show me what Peter’s talking about.” Tony ordered, as a screen appeared on the window behind his desk, showing the outside of the bodega. The scene played out as Peter explained before, and the mystery girl’s voice rang through the room as she tapped into Karen’s system and when the whole ordeal was over. “She seems to be your age Peter, are you sure you don't recognize their voice?”

“N-no I don't. I don't know every kid my age Mr. Stark.” Peter stuttered, looking over the footage from earlier. “I’ve never even heard of another hero in this part of town, especially not one with the ability to manipulate fire.”

“She seems to know what she’s doing. She made sure that no one was hurt, and probably called the police herself,cause she knew that the hostages would probably be too scared to call. Friday, look up all calls to the police within the last hour near that corner store.” Tony commanded his A.I., the footage from the corner store was replaced by thousands of numbers flying across the screen.

“There was one call made from a mobile phone, under the name Ramiro (Y/L/N).” Friday’s voice rang through the speakers around the two super heroes. 

“That can't be right, check for relatives.”

“Already ahead of you sir, he had a wife names Lana (Y/L/N), and a daughter, (Y/Full/N), but both Ramiro and Lana passed away during the battle against Loki.”

“Wait, (Y/N)? Is she around my age?” Peter asked, hearing how familiar the name sounded.

“Yes she's only a year older than you, she attends Lexington Academy, and lives by herself in an apartment provided by Stark Industries after the loss of her parents.”

“I know her.” Both Tony and Peter said at the same time.

“How do you know her Mr. Stark?” Peter asked looking at Tony, who was starring at the photo Friday brought up onto the screen.

“She’s technically my goddaughter.”

“WAIT, WHAT?”

“I was close friends with both Ram and Lana, having met them when things were at an all time low for me, and when (Y/N) was born they asked if I would like to be her godfather, to which I said yes. After everything with Loki happened, I found out that they were killed. (Y/N), was almost tossed into foster care, but I was able to come in and stop that from happening.”

“Then why doesn't she live with you here?”

“Because I knew that if anyone found out that (Y/N) was in any way shape or form related to me, she could be targeted by who ever had a vendetta against me or the Avengers. Thats why I payed in full for her and a couple of other families that were affected, to live in any apartment they chose. (Y/N), said she wouldn't leave her childhood home, so she chose to stay there.”

“Does she know your her godfather?” Peter asked, looking up at the other super hero.

“I don't think so. She’s never contacted me outside of saying there were minor repairs needed at her apartment, there was a fire that rang out in her kitchen a couple of months ago, but it doesn't seem like she was hurt. Thats besides the point, how do you know her Spiderling?”

“Oh-oh! I only met her today, she’s a friend of a friend. She had a completely different demeanor when we met. She was constantly apologizing for being late. During the fight, she looked like she had all the confidence in the world. Except for when she was in a confined space using her powers. Before I went in she mumbled that she hoped that she didn't hurt anyone.” Peter explained, trying to remember everything about this girl from the past couple of hours.

“Well fire is a beast that if set free, can cause damages that no one can undo.” Tony mumbled, looking up at your ID photo up on the screen thanks to Friday. “Do you have school tomorrow?”

“Um no, its summer, schools out.” Peter explained looking between Tony and the photo of you. “Why?”

“Well it says she works at a bodega, I’m saying we should go and visit (Y/N).”

“Hi, welcome to Jaime’s Sh- h-hey Peter! M-Mr. S-stark, how can I help you guys?” You asked from behind the counter of the bodega. You could feel your heart rate accelerate as the two walked into the bodega.

“H-Hey, (Y/N), u-um how are you doing?” Peter stuttered.

“G-Good, and yourself? And you M-Mr. Stark? I-I’ve never seen you in these parts of town.” You stuttered, failing at trying to calm yourself down.

“Alright, (Y/N), do you have any place so the three of us can talk. Privately.” Tony asked, more like commanded, walking up to the counter you were behind.

“U-um, I’m working, and I need to take care of the bo-” You started before someone walked out from the back room.

“(Y/N) ¿Que esta pasando?” Your boss, Jaime asked walking up to the counter, oblivious to who was in the store. 

“N-Nada Don Ramirez, u-um Señor Stark necesita hablar conmigo, ¿Lo puedo llevarlo atrás?” You asked gesturing to Tony, who had a smile on his face as your boss recognized the superhero.

“¡Si, Si! I-It’s so nice to see you S-Señor Stark, a-anything you need it free!” Your boss, offered in broken English. After politely rejecting the offer, you, led Tony and Peter to the back room, for once in the last give or take 6 months, you actually felt cold.

“S-So, what’s the occasion?” You asked, closing the door behind you, before anyone could answer you felt a shift in the room. Quickly turning, you took a boxing stance, your hands clenched together, desperate to let out the embers that slowly started to surround them.

“We only came to talk to you, (Y/N), or do you prefer the name Messiah.” Tony said, holding up his arm that was covered by his suit, ready for anything. Who knew a watch with nano tech could be so useful? Taking deep breaths, you shifted your attention to the other teenager in the room. Peter had taken a fighting stance as well, his knees were slightly bent, his left shoulder drooped forward slightly as he right arm was held up almost parallel to the ground, the two middle fingers of his right hand twitching forward towards his palm. You’d seen that stance before, and it wasn't just over the internet, but also in person.

“No way...” You whispered, your eyes still locked on Peter. Allowing your arms to fall to your sides, the embers in your hands danced into nonexistence in the air around you.

[incorrectdanganronpaquotes]

Incorrect Danganronpa Tales: “Technical Difficulties”

Jabberwock Island, some time during SDR2…

Byakuya Togami paced back and forth in the central computer room for the Neo World Program. Before him, two of his fellow Ultimates- Makoto Naegi and Toko Fukawa- awkwardly waited for him to say something, having been called here several minutes earlier. It had been three weeks since the group had come to Jabberwock Island, rebelling against the Future Foundation in the process; Makoto, unwilling to see the captive Remnants of Despair executed, had sought to use the technology contained in this very room- the Neo World Program- to reverse the brainwashing inflicted on the 77th Class by Junko Enoshima. The program had been activated this morning and was now running independently, the Remnants’ bodies lying dormant in nearby stasis chambers; the screens throughout the room displayed various images of the simulated Jabberwock Island, showing the students walking around in the virtual environment.

“So what’s this about, Togami?” asked Makoto. “Is…something wrong?”

“S-shut up!” exclaimed Toko angrily. “Master Byakuya will speak to us when he’s g-good and ready!”

After another long moment, Togami finally stopped his pacing and turned to look at his two classmates. “Makoto,” he said, “are you trying to kill me?”

Makoto blinked. This conversation had immediately taken an unexpected turn. “Um…no?” he said cautiously, not sure if this was some kind of trap. “Why would you-”

“Because I am going to have a goddamn heart attack!” shouted Togami, causing both the others to jump backwards; this was easily the angriest they had ever seen the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, including that time Yasuhiro had accidentally touched his bare skin.

“Again, I really don’t understand what’s going on,” protested Makoto.

Togami, rather than speaking, simply pointed to the nearest screen. Makoto turned to look…and took a step backward in shock. The screen, which had previously displayed a beautiful tropical paradise, now showed an island with overcast skies. That wasn’t the worrying part, though; the worrying part was the fact that, rather than the adorable rabbit mascot designed by the program creator, the students of Class 77 were now being addressed by a suspiciously familiar black-and-white teddy bear. All of the students looked visibly alarmed by what this bear was saying.

“Do you know what that is?” asked Togami.

Makoto stared at the screen, the ever-so-familiar feeling of dread slowly overtaking him. “I don’t know, I mean…I guess it looks a little like Usami, or…?”

“That,” said Togami, “is a despair-themed virus overtaking the entire Neo World Program- something that should not be possible unless the firewalls specifically designed to counter such a virus were somehow disabled. Makoto, who was the last one to use this room?”

Makoto’s eyes went wide, the magnitude of what was going on finally hitting him. “Oh god. Byakuya, look! It was my first day on the job, my first time even in this room! I don’t know how to use a supercomputer!! All I did was push some buttons!”

Byakuya looked around in enraged confusion at the control room; every single piece of equipment was touchscreen based, courtesy of the facility’s ultramodern design. “H-how is that possible?!” he exclaimed. “How is that possible?! There are no buttons in here!!”

“Well, that sucks, because I pushed them!” exclaimed Makoto, now shrinking away in terror.

“Well, great!” Togami exclaimed sarcastically. “I don’t know how to fix this! And,” he added, rounding on Toko, “when I woke up this morning and tried to call the only man who could, I found out he was stabbed in the face! Do you know who stabbed him in the face?”

This time it was Toko’s turn to come to a horrifying realization. Her mind flashed backwards to her last mission with the Future Foundation, where she and Komaru had been sent to retrieve stolen documents believed to have been in the possession of Junko and the Remnants. While following the trail of evidence the two girls had encountered a man who had referred to himself as the Ultimate Tech Support, who refused to let them search his shelter for clues and became violent when they tried to force entry; it was around this point that Toko had been overtaken by Genocide Jill, who then- by Komaru’s account- entered into a fight which ended with at least one pair of scissors embedded firmly in the man’s skull.

“B-b-but master, I don’t understand!” stammered Toko. “H-he must have been working with the Remnants! He knew about Junko’s d-documents!”

“You mean the manual on how to fix this place?!” snapped Togami.

There was a long silence following Togami’s words.

“W-wow,” said Toko finally. “What are the odds?”

Togami buried his face in one hand. “How did none of you peons manage to recover any of the documents?!” he exclaimed.

It was at this point that Makoto decided he was going to stand up for himself, in the futile hope that this would somehow fix things. “Well, for starters, you sent two of us after three terrorists!” he exclaimed.

Now it was Byakuya’s turn to look embarrassed; his mind flashed back to Yasuhiro’s decidedly unsuccessful mission to pursue the third potential suspect. “Well, that’s…not entirely true…” he admitted.

At that moment, Togami’s cell phone began to ring. After checking to make sure that the security protocols necessary to keep the Future Foundation from tracking them were still active, he answered. “What do you want?!” he snapped.

“It’s Kyoko,” said the familiar voice on the other end. “Hina and I have a lead on the documents. We’ll keep you updated as we go.”

Byakuya sighed. “Well, it’s good to know that someone besides me has their act together today.”

“Oh, and by the way,” added Kyoko, “if you can at all resist it, try not to tell off Makoto too badly for this.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Listen,” he said, as if explaining the situation to a child, “I understand that the two of you are dating, but I really don’t think you should be protecting him in this case, considering that he’s just jeopardized-”

“Who said anything about protecting him?” asked Kyoko, her tone of voice now hardening. “Believe me: when I get back to the island, I’m going to be one to yell at him. Over and out.” And with that, the phone clicked off.

“Was that Kiri?” asked Makoto, eager for news about Kyoko. “Is she okay? Is she coming back soon?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” said Togami, a smirk spreading across his face. “Tell you what: I’m feeling generous today, so I’m letting you off the hook for this.”

“R…really?” asked Makoto, now certain this was a trap. “Because I mean, I’m pretty sure this is kind of a big deal.”

“No, I understand,” said Togami, his smirk now somehow seeming to stretch beyond the boundaries of his face. “Plenty of people have difficulty with computers. You just head back to your dorm room and wait for Kirigiri; I’m sure she’ll be very happy to see you.”

With that, Togami turned and strode from the control room, leaving Makoto and Toko more confused than ever.

[A/N: So yeah, this is the kind of idea I had for Incorrect Danganronpa Tales; a lot of the dialogue is Incorrect Quote (mostly the middle section, in this case), but I also added original scenes when I felt the official dialogue didn’t work well, wanted to establish context, or just thought it would be funny. Let us know if you like this, and if so we might do more in the future! - Mod Snake] 

[merrymemori]

the three times they meet at the hospital and the one time they’re there together.

For Megan (@bombshellsandbluebells), who requested angst. This is probably going to be cuter than you expected, especially since it’s coming from me. Merry Christmas ;)

i.

He is supposed to take her to prom.

That’s Murphy’s only thought as he sits in the ER waiting room, ice pack pressed against his bruised cheek, bloody lower lip between his teeth. He was supposed to take her -- her being Emori, his beautiful, terrifying, badass lab partner -- to prom, but there’s blood on his crisp white shirt and his hands won’t stop shaking so how could he possibly dance with her?

Fuck, he thinks with vehemence. How did he let it get so bad?

He leans forward, wincing at the ache in his side, and pulls out his phone, staring at the lock screen. Like almost everything else in his otherwise-shitty life, it’s been taken over by her, her big smile, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, her wide brown eyes, the tattoo slashing bravely across the swell of her cheek.

The screen shifts into a different image of her -- one where she’s staring defiantly at the camera with her middle finger in the air -- as the phone vibrates in his hand. He steels himself, clenching his jaw, and picks up.

“John, are you alright?” She sounds breathless, the way she does when she’s nervous. Does he make her nervous? He doesn’t dare hope. “You weren’t here to get me, I just wanted to-”

“I’m at the hospital,” he says, then cringes when she shouts “WHAT?” directly into his ear. “I don’t think I can come get you. I’m sorry.”

“Which hospital?” He hears her screen door bang shut, the rattle of keys in her hand. When she speaks again, her voice is muffled and he knows she’s got her smaller hand occupied locking the door and has her phone jammed between her shoulder and cheek. “Which hospital, John?”

“You don’t have to come-” he starts.

“I’m coming,” she says firmly. “Which hospital?”

He tells her. She hangs up with a promise to be there soon, and he stares at his phone and sighs.

“Your girlfriend?” a nurse asks, standing over him and nodding to her picture on the screen. “Do you want to wait for her before I take you back?”

Murphy shakes his head. “She’s not my girlfriend. And no, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

When he stands, the room sways. The nurse promises to let his not-girlfriend -- “Emori, her name’s Emori.” -- know where he is, and then he’s perched on a hospital bed, staring at a bright penlight while the doctor confirms the concussion Murphy already knows he has.

She appears at his side a few minutes later when the doctor is off getting pain pills. He realizes dimly, through the pounding in his head that would only be gratifying if it signified a hangover, that she’s in her prom dress. It’s a long black number with a fluid-looking skirt and one long sleeve that hangs low enough to cover her larger hand.

“You look incredible,” he says before he can stop himself. She doesn’t blush, but she does look down shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear, an adorable smile creeping across her lips. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, John,” she says, but her grin widens and her eyes say a silent thank-you.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you,” he says in a moment of reckless softness. He reaches for her hand, pauses when he sees the blood under his nails, jumps when she reaches out to him. “I got you a corsage and everything.”

She laughs. He’s heard it all semester but it’s even better now, under these harsh lights that expose every flaw. He can feel her joy, her strangely intense happiness at the simplest of remarks, and it makes him want to fall in love with her.

But he can’t. The bruises on his face and the cuts on his hands are proof of why he can never be close enough to her.

After a prescription is written and insistences that no you don’t need to call the cops I’m fine it was a minor accident are made, Emori takes him back to her place. He doesn’t have to say what happened for her to guess, and her righteous anger makes his heart split open in a wonderful, painful longing.

“You’re safer here than there,” she tells him as they mount her front porch even as he has to hop over the hole in their top step. Murphy snorts derisively, then looks around -- really looks -- realizing he’s never been in Emori’s home before. It feels like a victory, in some small way. One step forward before he goes plunging back.

The whole house is falling apart; there are cracks in the ceiling, plaster on the walls, a whole chunk of Formica missing from the kitchen counter. Emori takes her shoes off and leaves them in the hallway somewhere between the entryway and the bathroom, then pours Murphy a glass of water from the tap.

“Drink it,” she tells him. “And take aspirin.”

When he doesn’t argue, she rewards him with another smile.

As he falls asleep on her couch that night, lulled by the sound of her and her brother murmuring in the next room, he wonders if there’s a way to contain a moment forever.

He would like to come back someday.

ii.

Emori hates hospitals.

She hates the sterile atmosphere, the loud sounds, the distorted voices through the loudspeaker and she hates hates hates sitting alone in the ER waiting for news of someone that might not make it through the night.

Not that she’s ever experienced that before. But she despises it now and always will.

There was an accident, she learned both from the nurse and the news. There was an accident involving a gun and a piece of tech Otan had no damn business being near and now he’s in surgery with a bullet in his brain and there’s another girl with a bullet in her spine and fuck if she keeps thinking about she’s going to start screaming and never stop.

“Emori?”

She looks up at the sound of her name. A man, maybe in his early twenties, stands before her, hands awkwardly jammed in his pockets. “John?” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe it.”

He sits beside her, rubs a hand over the stubble on his cheeks, runs his fingers through his shorter hair. He looks good beautiful, especially with those harsh blues eyes), she idly realizes, and suddenly has to restrain herself from leaning into his warmth, reaching for his hand, running her good thumb over his scarred knuckles.

You knew him back in high school, she scolds herself. So much has changed since then, He might not even know you now.

“What brings you here?” he asks. His attempt at a light tone falls flat.

“There was an accident,” she says quietly and hates how her voice trembles. She turns to him, scanning his face for cuts and bruises, then stops as she remembers his mother’s death and, with her, the end of those visits. “My brother’s in surgery.”

“So is my best friend,” he murmurs, and she knows that it’s Raven Reyes under the knife as they try to save her spine.

They share a look and don’t speak again.

She falls asleep on his shoulder somewhere in the space between midnight and morning. He wakes her up and hands her a cup of coffee that one of his friends brought. When John looks at her, it’s with a mixture of fear and reverence that makes Emori’s skin crawl.

When John leaves to check on Raven, the other girl regards her. “I’m Ontari,” she says sharply, eyes cutting down to Emori’s left hand.

She tucks it under her thigh. “Emori,” she says, and everything in her prickles at the dark-haired girl. Her muscles tense, her jaw clenches, and she has to physically bite her tongue when John returns to keep from saying get away from her or there’s something twisted in her that makes me want to run or I never want to run so please listen to me.

They part ways the next day after learning that his friend and her (idiot dumbass) brother would be fine. He gives her a small wave goodbye, then winces when Ontari yanks on his arm. When Emori finds him on Facebook, her friend request is quickly accepted, then rejected.

She knows why. The knowledge burns a hole through her sternum.

iii.

When her phone lights up with a Facebook Messenger request at three in the morning, she almost chucks her phone across the room until she sees who it’s from.

“John?” she whispers aloud. Her heart hammers in her throat. It’s been two years since she saw him at the hospital. It’s been six months since they started messaging secretly, though she doesn’t know why it’s so secret, only that John makes her delete her threads and he does the same.

(She does know, but can’t think of it without plotting a homicide.)

It’s been two hours since she thought of him last.

She accepts the message request, then, after a moment sees, Raven is out of town and I don’t have anyone I can call. Can you come get me? Because I can’t drive right now.

She’s already got her shoes on. I’m coming, she writes back. Just tell me where.

It’s the same hospital she met him at when they were kids, on their way to prom. She laughs at the irony as she walks through the door, then freezes when she sees him standing by the desk.

“What the hell?” she breathes as she approaches him. “John…?”

He closes his eyes when she touches the bandages that wrap around most of his neck. “Don’t ask.” His voice is raw, full of pain and longing. “Can I- Can I come home with you?”

She looks at this boy -- technically, man, but she’s known him so long that he’ll always be that awkward asshole who asked her to senior prom -- and feels her heart swell and break.

“Yes,” she nods. “Of course.”

She takes his hand and leads him to the car. He kisses her on the cheek before sliding into the car. She blushes all the way home.

He makes himself comfortable on the couch. He tells her he’ll stay for one night, but one stretches into two, then a week, then a month, and then suddenly, his things are in her closet and his pillow is beside hers on the bed and there’s talk of finding a bigger bed next weekend when they’re both off work and she has to stop and breathe because holy shit are we permanent now?

“Yeah,” he says casually, off-handedly, as he spoons eggs onto her plate and passes her the milk for her cereal. “I figured as much, anyway.”

It’s been six months. “It’s been six months,” she says aloud. “I didn’t- I don’t-”

“I fucked up with Ontari,” John says softly, pausing to lean forward and look Emori straight in the eye. “But I’m not going to fuck up with you.”

“I kind of figured that,” Emori smirks up at him as his eyes widen fractionally, remembering just what they did last night that reassured her. “But I didn’t think you wanted this to be forever.”

“I want you forever,” he says, and it’s so quiet she has to strain to hear. She can’t stop the delighted smile that spreads over her face at those four words. “I mean, I know your brother is an asshole sometimes and probably hates me for screwing his sister, and I don’t want you to think this is just because of Ontari-”

“I don’t think that,” she butts in. “I never did.”

“Okay, good.” He runs water in the sink and starts washing the dishes. She watches him, his beautiful eyes and strong hands, and when he looks up at the calendar and starts talking about how he has this Christmas Eve dinner for the two of them all planned, she feels something rise in her chest, something new and six years old bubbling to the surface.

“You like roast, right?” he asks as she gazes at him, her body trembling from the inside out. “Because my dad always made roast on Christmas Eve and honestly, it’s kind of an essential-”

“Marry me,” she blurts out, and he freezes. “Marry me, John.”

He sets the pan he’s washing down, dries his hands, and rounds the kitchen counter to stand beside her. “Okay,” he says gently, casually. “Sure.”

She laughs. “Really?” Then, she frowns. “You’re not just saying that, right? Because I never know with you.”

He grins. She melts. “I’m serious,” he says, kissing her softly. “I’ll marry you.”

+i.

When Raven and Otan burst into the hospital room, Murphy is sitting in an armchair holding his baby girl.

“Emori’s asleep,” he whispers, grinning up at Raven as she maneuvers herself to a kneeling position beside him. “Say hi to your Aunt Raven, Jo.”

Raven’s whole face lights up at the sight of Murphy’s blue eyes and Emori’s dark skin. “Hi, you,” she coos, running a gentle finger over Jo’s round cheeks. Above her, Otan stands between his sister and his niece, obviously out of his depth.

“John?” Emori mumbles, waking up with a slow, lazy stretch and a wince. “Oh,” she sighs. “Hi, Otan.”

Her brother kisses her forehead. “You did good,” he says roughly.

Emori beams up at him, then reaches out for the bundle in Murphy’s arms.

“You need to rest,” Murphy says, but it’s a pointless argument; Raven’s already passing the baby off with a glare in Murphy’s direction. Within seconds, both girls are asleep again, Jo’s head resting against her mother’s heart.

“You did it,” Raven whispers, leaning her head against his shoulder, watching as Otan sits in the chair across the room from Emori’s bed. “I’m proud of you.”

He looks at his wife and their little girl and feels a swell of joy rise up in him, threatening to choke him in its immediacy. “Thanks,” he whispers.

In her sleep, Emori smiles.