#i dont dare look in the tags and risk getting spoiled

[knifepit]

I arrive at the saloon

Spurs: polished

Whiskey: neat

?yenneL: LENNAYY

[pietropatrol]

Marvel High (Part 4)

Read Part 3

A/N: Happy Fic Fri--Saturday! Had this most of the way written up yesterday, but my daughter has not been going down at her bedtime very well so I didn’t get it done before bed! But here I am now, posting as my husband is now trying to get her to go back to sleep. Babies, I tell yah.

Welcome to Marvel High, where being the new kid wasn’t the worst. Your homeroom couldn’t be weirder though; your teacher wears an eye patch and is always shouting for some reason, and a group of dysfunctional teens calling themselves the “Avengers.” Probably the weirdest thing is their insistence that you join.

Pairing: Pietro x Reader Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, teenage substance abuse Words: 1,300ish

The dynamic of the group was odd to witness. They all had drastically different personalities, something you had already gleaned from the bickering during the school day, but under the influence of alcohol, it became even more obvious. It was as if the group was comprised of smaller groups. 

The Maximoff twins were obvious. Natasha and Clint were a pair, that you were sure of. The way they shadowed each other and communicated in their body language was hard to ignore. Either they had been friends for a long time or something was going on between them. Though you felt it would have been inappropriate to ask. Tony and Bruce seemed close, from what you had overheard from their in-depth science conversation at lunch earlier. You could always find Steve, Bucky, and Sam together, but Bucky seemed annoyed whenever he was left with just Sam.

Thor was an outlier and seemed to bounce around all of them seamlessly. His cockiness rivaled Tony’s. Thor appeared to be about six beers deep and enthusiastically telling a story about how he wrestled some unnamed beast in is home country.

“Where is Thor from again?” You turned to Pietro who was watching the group from a distance with you. Though you had felt him watching you when you weren’t looking.

“Some Scandinavian country… we think.” Pietro shrugged. “You sure you don’t want another drink? Nat makes a mean cocktail.”

“I’m sure she does, but I should probably keep my wits about me and not smell like I’ve been drinking. My dad is like a bloodhound with that stuff. One beer was already a risk.”

“So, what is up with your dad anyway? He seems…” Pietro struggled to find the right word.

“Hella protective?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, hell-ah protective, as you so put it.” Pietro inclined his head in your direction, closing the small gap between your bodies.

“He means well. I haven’t made the best choices in my life. And trouble seems to follow me wherever we go. It’s only a matter of time before it finds me here.” You were being intentionally vague. It was a can of worms that someone you just met shouldn’t have sprung on them.

Pietro furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t push. “So, you set fire to your previous school?” He guided you back to the group and you sat next to Wanda on a loveseat, Pietro perched on the arm.

“Fire? Is Y/N talking about setting her school on fire?” Tony had been making his way to the bar when he heard the word fire. Another lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Yes, but don’t even think about sitting next to us with that lit.” Steve waved his hand to the offending object.

“It’s my house,” Tony guffawed.

“Rule eleven, specifically made for you, is not smoking within the group circle, because not all of us are trying to get lung cancer before twenty-five.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s unfair that we have rules specifically aimed at me. But fine.” Tony dropped his cigarette into his glass and joined the group.

“Rules?” You echoed.

“Top secret,” Tony winked, “Back to the fire, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t anything crazy. I was in wood shop and got bored, wondered if I could burn in a design on a plank with my lighter, and it was highly flammable, apparently. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shop to start on fire, the air was basically half saw-dust.” You shrugged, honestly, it wasn’t the stupidest thing you’d done. It was also an accident for once.

“It only went as far as the home-ec classroom. No big deal, aside from being expelled." 

"Lame!" Tony yawned. "Let's play truth or dare!" 

Everyone groaned and threw empty solo cups at him. 

"Why do you always insist on playing?" Nat looked to him, incredulous. "We've been friends long enough that it isn't fun anymore. You just want us to do stupid shit." 

"What's wrong with stupid shit?" Tony insisted. "Besides we have a newbie now!"

  You looked at your phone and saw it was almost ten o'clock. Had it really been two hours already? "Sorry, but I have to head out. Curfew." 

"And here I was thinking you were a trouble maker," Tony smirked. 

"Oh, I am. But I don't want to be grounded for eternity. Great party though, Tony. Thanks for the invite." You made to leave with Pietro and Wanda on following behind you when a young boy, probably about 14, came running in, out of breath. 

"Alright, who invited the freshman?" Steve rubbed his temples. "We agreed, no freshman." 

"Parker isn't going to cause any trouble, the kid's a saint," Tony argued. "What's going on?" 

"Some--oh hi," the freshman saw you. "I'm Peter Parker. You must be new."

"I'm Y/N. You okay, Peter?"  

He was still trying to catch his breath. "Oh yeah! There's a bunch of Hydra High douche-bros who snuck in. They're by the pool." 

"Fuuuucccckkkkk." Bucky cursed. "They're definitely here to start some shit." "Alright, is everybody sober enough to deal with them?" Steve looked pointedly to Tony who was rolling up his sleeves, already looking ready for a fight. 

"We should probably go, you don't need me and Wanda, right?" Pietro looked to Steve. 

"Umm... if you're parked in the driveway, you won't be able to get out. They blocked it with their own cars." 

"Looks like you're going to be late. Sorry." Pietro frowned at you. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. 

"Nah, it's not your fault. How quickly do you think we can scare off these guys?" Tony held up his hand, gaining everyone's attention. "I might have a solution. Let me go down to my basement, and I will meet you out there." 

The group made their way down to the pool. Your other classmates had crowded around, keeping a distance from Hydra.

  Hydra was raiding the outdoor bar and the scariest student among them was lounging on a wicker chair, sipping lazily on a bottle of vodka. A small voice in your head said he was the leader. Maybe it was because everyone else was at work nabbing whatever they could and he was already enjoying their spoils. You just knew. 

"Avengers!" he called out, happily. "Great party!" 

"Avengers?" You whispered to Pietro. 

"I'll explain later." 

The leader's eyes narrowed in on you. "New recruit?" 

The hair stood up on the back of your neck as he stood up and stepped closer to you. He looked you up and down, perplexed. "Do I know you?"

"Doubt it." Pietro pulled you behind him, breaking his line of sight. 

"Maximoff onto a new toy already?" 

"What are you doing here, Keller? I thought we told you not to come near this place again?" Steve pulled the attention to him. "The message was pretty clear when Thor cracked open your forehead." 

"We heard about the dope ass party, Rogers. Thought some of your classmates would want to have a little more fun--" 

"We don't want your shitty drugs." Peter piped up. "Like weed is cool and stuff, but--" 

"Your shit is garbage." Tony sauntered through the group, a contraption strapped to his arms. "And calling it 'Candy Andy' is kinda lame." 

A light emitted from Tony's palm and beam jutted out and shatter the bottle of vodka in Keller's hand. Tony hissed from the hot metal burning into his palm but stood his ground. 

Keller remained calm and held up his hands, though you could see a slight look of terror in his eyes. "Alright, we'll see you around another time then. Good to see you again, Y/N." He winked at you and they took off. 

You froze, you didn't know him, how did he know you?

****

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[inkstainedfanfics]

A Broken Man with No Home

Request: Newt x Reader with a storyline where everything is going Extremely Bad. Desperate situations calls for desperate measures so Reader "takes the chance to sacrifice her own life to save everyone because she can only do it" cliche. Angst like a punch in the gut.

Word Count: 3,025

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by @duquesarosa but also tagging @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @whatinbenaddiction @benniesgalaxy @thosefantasticbeast2

“Dada, where are we going?”

Newt looks down at the little girl squirming in the train seat next to him. Her thumb’s lingering near her mouth, ready to pop back in the second she gets her answer, and a part of her hair’s sticking up.

Newt smiles halfheartedly and reaches over to tuck the errant hair into a butterfly clip. “We’re going to Bulgaria, honey.”

She frowns, the thin wrinkles hiding some of the freckles that dot her face. “Where’s that?”

“Far away.”

“Where?” She persists. Newt almost laughs at the stubborn set of her small features. She’s a near copy in that aspect, an exact match.

“Do you remember when we went to see uncle Theseus? How far we traveled then?”

She nods, thumb now in her mouth as she watches Newt with patient eyes.

“It’s right next to there. Do you think you’ll make it?”

“Yes. Teddy and I are gonna be just fine.” She pauses, as though she’s thinking something over, then continues. “Thank you very much.”

“Someone’s been spending too much time with aunt Tina.”

“Auntie Tina likes me. She said she’d have a whole bunch of chocolate for me when she gets to see me again.”

“Yes, well, Aunt Tina spoils you too much.” Newt busies himself with the bag at his feet, digging through it for the box of crackers.

She kicks her feet. “She says she wouldn’t if you listened. She says you’re a bad listener, dada.”

He slows his search, the familiar anger he’s felt over the past few months stirring in his chest. “Does she, now?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She hums. Her summer green eyes are focused on the box Newt pulls out, and she completely misses the flash of annoyance her news earns.

He takes a deep breath as he shakes the crackers into his hand. It’d be best to ignore the comment. “Here, love, eat up. We’ll be on the train for a long time before we can leave.”

She grabs the crackers, her grubby fingers leaving streaks of saliva on Newt’s hand.

Newt wipes his hand on his blue jacket as more commuters lumber onto the train and shuffle past him. The train hisses, a bit of steam making its way in the door a few rows away. Newt’s surprised he can even hear it over the dull drone of the others, those who take the route daily speaking about politics and the recent construction started in London. Others, those who are new to the train like him, sit quietly, hands folded in their laps as they watch the crowds move past the window. Some squint at crossword puzzles, doing their best to make out the tiny clues in the dim light of the sunrise.

Newt’s nose wrinkles as a particularly strong cologne passes by. He quickly covers his daughter’s mouth when her nose wrinkles too and her mouth opens.

“Hush,” he murmurs. “We should be nice.”

He can hardly bring himself to say the words. Not after what he’s done the past few months, the things he’s said to Tina, the way he’s treated his brother. Hypocrite. Newt never expected such a description to fit him, but when Theseus shouted it in the middle of the family’s Christmas gathering, earning the attention of every aunt, uncle, and cousin he’s ever met, he’d been unable to argue the point.

“Dada,” she whispers against his palm, “why can’t we go home?”

Newt curses as his shoulder slams into the warehouse’s concrete wall. An ambush. A damned ambush neither he nor Queenie nor Tina saw coming. Even the head of the department assumed the fanatics abandoned this place for somewhere safer, more discrete.

They’d come here underpowered, with too few people. Newt knew it the second Martins couldn’t apparate.

He was still too slow.

A green bolt struck King in the center of his chest, dead center, hit him like a baseball. The grey-haired man went wheeling through the room, pirouetting through the air as gravity demanded control over his arms and legs. When Mel shouted for him and started away from Newt’s side, he was too slow again. Her arm escaped his grasp by millimeters. He wonders as he tosses another curse across the room if he could’ve stopped her.

Halfway to King, the same light slammed into her neck.

A beat of silence in the room. She crumpled like a ragdoll, dropping to the ground, limbs splayed, face still contorted into an expression of horror. A beat.

Two.

Three.

Newt stares, unable to comprehend how a person that grinned at him only minutes ago now lays on cold concrete, lifeless. Something odd, painful, snaps in his chest. Mel could never smile again, never drink another shot of firewhiskey or ask her seven-year-old niece to teach her a ballet move.

Newt can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. This is different, so different from when his beasts die.

She’s gone.

He wonders vaguely if he’ll throw up, if anyone else will.

A touch on his arm. He looks.

Your shoulder happened to brush his as you duck behind the boxes, drawing your wand.

He blinks, swallows, and raises his wand. He has something to fight for.

Four.

Chaos.

Spells and charms light up the room. Everyone’s throwing one, the MACUSA aurors fighting until their last breath, but more and more fanatics are coming out of the woodwork with every passing second.

The entrance and exits are rooms away. Newt scans the walls, but the windows are too high up for anyone to reach without putting themselves at risk.

Queenie lays on the ground across the room. Tina’s bent over her, hands pressed to her shoulder. She shouts something muted by the screams tearing through the room. When she looks at Newt, he can hardly breathe from the desperation and terror in her eyes. Queenie might be dying, might already be dead.

He has no chance to even consider helping, though, as he flies backward.

The pile of boxes he’d been crouching behind exploded, the result of a fanatic’s missed spell.

Newt curses as he’s thrown back and rolls across the cold ground. The impact nearly dislocates his shoulder, and blood’s suddenly blinding him, spilling into his eyes from a burning gash on his forehead.

He swipes at it, sleeve only increasing the pain of the injury, but there’s terror pounding through his veins as he looks around, helping him ignore it. He’s next to a door that leads toward the exit; he could escape, run and leave, but you’re in the middle of the room, and a streak of green’s rushing toward you. Without a thought, protego’s rushing from his wand and he’s leaping for you.

He scrambles to grab around your arms; then he’s dragging you to the doorway. Keeping you safe is the only thought on his mind. The blood dripping into his eyes and patting down his hair can wait. Even the pain in his foot from a rather severe burn that an errant curse causes is set aside as he pulls you behind him. He makes it to the next room, knocking curse after curse away as you fight your way to your feet and limp into the next room, hiding around the corner.

Newt backs in after you. “Are you hurt?” A silly question, he knows. Everyone’s hurt or dead and there’s still at least twenty of them out there.

You shake your head, but the look on your face says otherwise. Your teeth are clenched and your hand moves to your thigh almost without thought.

Newt’s stomach turns. A shard of wood has lodged itself in the middle of your thigh. A hard extraction for anyone and the way the battle’s going, he doesn’t dare try now, not when there’s an artery somewhere near there. Newt lets out a shaky breath. He’ll have to protect you, stay at your side and kill or disarm them all until help comes.

It’ll be a fight, he knows, one he’ll be lucky to escape from with his life. He looks at you, then reaches in his pocket, hand running over the simple drawing of Frank and him that he’d swiped from the kitchen table just before leaving. He has things to fight for, people, a family.

He steels himself.

The battle rages outside as you look up at him, hand pressing at the skin near the shard. “Newt, you need to get out of here.”

“I know, love. We’ll make it.” He murmurs, popping around the doorframe to petrify someone.

“I don’t know if I will.”

Sweat drips down Newt’s face as he whips his head toward you. “Don’t.”

“Newt-“

He blinks at the ground before facing the door again. “Don’t.”

You oblige him.

Newt’s mind races trying to find a solution. There has to be a solution. There has to be a damned solution. He won’t let you die, won’t let you both leave the little freckle-faced girl waiting with Jacob, waiting a lifetime for parents that can’t return.

Three people stumble through the door, and Newt almost kills them, almost casts a curse, but he throws his hand down as Tina’s wide eyes come into view.

“Newt,” Tina chokes out, arm around Queenie’s stomach, “they’re dead.”

“The fanatics?”

She pants as she sets Queenie against the wall. “No, the other MACUSA workers. They’re all dead. It’s just us and Martha.”

Martha Hendricks shoves the door shut, moving boxes in front of it to earn time. “The windows.”

Newt shakes his head. “Too high.”

Hendricks glances at the door as it rattles. “And what’s your plan? There’s fifteen of them in that room and five of us.”

“I don’t know yet.”

The door shakes again, harder this time. “We need to go with what we have.”

“We don’t have a way up, if you haven’t noticed.” He snaps, anger and terror besting his manners.

Hendricks throws her arms open. “We’re in a room full of boxes. We stack some, we’re high enough up.”

Tina nods. “That could work.”

“No.”

“Newt, what can we do?” Her eyes are wide as she takes them all in. “We’re bleeding and exhausted. If we don’t get out now, we may be dead.”

Newt shakes his head as a box near the door begins to fall. Hendricks catches it and shoves it back into place. “You’d leave Queenie behind?”

Queenie has her eyes squeezed shut as Hendricks charms boxes to land on top of one another, forming a staircase to the window. “They’re thinking about the outside.” She pops her eyes open. “I’ll be okay, honey. I can make it.”

Newt looks at you, kneeling down and taking your hand. “Can you?” His eyes linger on the shrapnel still stuck in your thigh, an active threat that could kill you any time you move.

Sweat’s running down your face but you nod. “I can.”

He thins his lips.

Hendricks raises her wand and faces the window. “We just need a distraction, something to keep them in that room.”

Newt stands as the boxes rattle a final time, but you yank him back down. “I love you.” You mumble before kissing him, bloody hands running up his arms and tangling in his hair, tugging him against you as best you can. “Think,” you continue once he pulls away, “we can see her after this, tuck her into bed and remind her just how much we love her.”

Newt musters up a strained smile. “Yes, she’ll love that. I’ll find someone to care for the creatures. You and I, we’ll read to her, then we’ll split a tub of ice cream. How does that sound, love?”

You smile at him, but yours is real, a genuine one that appears without any effort. “That sounds wonderful.”

Newt’s hand tightens around yours as your eyes seem to glaze over. “Love, you need to stay with me.”

You laugh at his worry. “Newt, it’ll be all right. We can get out of here. The fanatics haven’t gotten you before, you think I’m going to let them now?”

He swallows, his own smile softening into a real one. “No, I suppose I should trust that the woman that punched me in the face just for reaching for popcorn on our first date wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.”

You roll your eyes. “As I’ve told you, you surprised me. I didn’t think we’d reach for it at the same time, and I didn’t want to be in your way. It’s not my fault you bend over a popcorn bowl when you grab a handful.”

Newt can almost forget about everything as he listens to you laugh. His wife, his love, his best friend. The immense need to protect, to drag you out of here, only strengthens as you grin at him. He blinks the tears in his eyes away.

“I love you, darling. Never forget that.”

You grin again, wider, but your eyes water as you trace his cheekbone. “I won’t.”

Tina and Hendricks have climbed the stack of boxes and pried open the window. “Newt, hurry.” Tina yell before scanning the city alleyway.

You let go of his hand. “Go check. Make sure they aren’t waiting out there.”

Newt kisses your forehead before standing and rushing to the boxes.

He doesn’t notice you close your eyes or Queenie lean over to whisper to you, her body tense, voice low and unsure.

Hendricks perches on the sill, her hands on the top of it, feet balancing on the bottom. “We jump.” She says.

“We’re two stories up.”

“I’ll try to apparate. Who knows how far their restriction goes. If I can’t, I recommend you tuck and roll. It’ll be the best way to avoid breaking anything. If this works, we recon at the Embassy in New York. Got it?”

Queenie appears next to Newt and grabs his arm. “Hold onto me, honey?”

“But-“

Tina starts climbing down. “I’ve got her. You take Queenie. The two of you will be able to jump further. Queenie and I wouldn’t go anywhere.”

Newt swallows, glancing down at you as you stand, wobbly, but do your best to get to your feet. “Bring her to the bar, not to your apartment. It’s safer.”

“I will. Now get up there.”

He sees you whisper to Tina, notices her eyes widen or your short nod of certainty, but you smile at him. “I’m coming.”

Newt hesitates, only crawling onto the sill when Queenie yanks on his arm. “Come on, honey. We need to go.”

Newt’s ready. He’s tensed, watching Tina wrap an arm under your shoulder, but Queenie nudges him, draws his attention away from what’s happening behind him.

Her eyes are sad, lips curved in a frown as she holds his arm so tight he yelps. “I’m so sorry.”

Hendricks looks over her shoulder. “Now.”

Newt looks back and shouts. Something’s not right. Tina’s turning, sliding out from under your arm and running toward the boxes and you, you’re facing the door, wand raised. He struggles to back up, to go to you, but then Tina’s there at his back, screaming at them to go as the boxes in front of the door tumble away, falling because of a charm you cast. He blinks. A charm you cast. Intentionally. You meant for this. You’re leaving him.

A sound Newt didn’t know he could make rips from his throat as the door bangs open and people flood in, wands raised.

He can’t do anything but watch, can’t even call your name as Tina slams into his back and Queenie and Hendricks hold his arms until it hurts. He can only watch you mouth three words to him just before ten green spells crack against your back and you fall just like he is.

A distraction, he realizes as the familiar feeling of being sucked through a tube constricts his chest. You were the distraction.

He’s only aware of the heavy weight of his wedding ring when he lands in a heap on the floor of the MACUSA building. Tina says something, Hendricks rushes away, and Queenie probes his mind, but Newt just stares blankly at the ceiling before letting himself fade into oblivion.

“Dada, why not home?”

He turns his face from hers to hide the water in his eyes. “We can’t go home anymore, bunny. It’s not there.”

Her eyes widen as she sucks on her thumb. “They broke it?”

He shuts his eyes, wrapping an arm around the tiny girl. “Yes, love, they broke it.”

“I wanna see mommy.”

The words are a punch to the gut. “Mommy’s busy right now.”

“Too busy?”

“Yes, bunny, too busy for us. But we’ll see her again someday.”

Her lower lip trembles. “I miss mommy, though. I want her now.”

Newt swallows the tears. Four months. He’s had four months and still hasn’t figured out how to tell your daughter what happened. The thought tears him apart. She should know, should learn about how brave her mother was, how she was strong until her very last breath and how she saved lives with that strength. He should tell his little girl how her mother’s last words aloud were to tell her little girl how very, very special she was. But he can’t. He can’t bring himself to say it, admit it. He just works in the case and takes the little girl to sit on Frank’s back when she won’t stop pestering him with questions.

“I miss her too, bunny, but you have me and teddy and Frank for now.” He leans forward to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. “Would you like a book?”

She shakes her head, pouting and leaning against Newt’s side and curling up, preparing for a nap.

Sitting back, Newt’s hand brushes the picture he keeps in his bag of the two of you, taken on your wedding day. He freezes, running his thumb over your smile. God, he misses it.

Chest heavy, he lifts his daughter and sets her in his lap, letting her sleep on his chest as the train shudders to a start and he shuts his eyes to relive it all again.