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sirius-archive · 6 years ago

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Chaos Theory Part 9

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 6316

A/N: Ahh okay this week is going to be super busy for me!! I have two more chapters that I want to release before Christmas, and two more Young gods chapters as well!! It’s going to be a challenge, but I think I can make it. I’m not actually all that happy with this chapter, but it’s important so it’ll have to do. Anyway, enjoy <3

Chapter Nine:

On the morning of the first task, you hardly sleep a wink.

You had watched as the room had gone from complete darkness to those misty, almost whimsical shades of blues and greys without really appreciating it. Instead, you had laid awake in bed, marinating in your own thoughts and anxiety.

In a few hours, your best friend and your sort of boyfriend would be fighting a dragon, and the kind of dread that grows from that is like a fungus spreading across your scalp; it’s uncomfortable, nauseating and terrifying all at once.

The gravity of this entire ordeal has never felt heavier as you lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling, sliding the beads on your bracelet round and round in tight, little circles. You feel like your stomach is climbing its way up your throat, a greasy wave of nausea puttering around at the back of your mouth as you pray to any god that’s listening for Harry’s protection.

Sirius’ words come back to you, whispering in your ear, haunting you as you lay on your back gripping the bed sheets; All I know for certain is that whoever put your name into the Goblet did it for a reason…

You blink, scratching hastily at your wrist. If someone really, truly was going to attack Harry during the Tournament, you would have to do everything in your power to stop them, to ensure Harry was safe, to protect, not only Harry, but those around him like Hermione and Ron and Cedric, even Fleur and Victor, they were all at risk here...

Nightshade crawls up your bed and nestled herself under your arm in a comforting sort of way, purring loudly. You absentmindedly scratch her head, staring blankly at the ceiling as you try to calm your racing thoughts.

It’s a task that is easier said than done in your experience.

Beside you, you hear a soft sigh issue from Hermione’s bed. You wonder, vaguely, if she’s had difficulties sleeping, too. Perhaps she was losing sleep agonising over this, too, turning restlessly in her bed as the minutes rolled by.

You both were invested in this as much as Harry and Cedric were; both of you had spent hours helping Harry with his Summoning Charm and - without anyone knowing of course - you had offered to help Cedric with his task. Cedric, being the noble and fair hearted boy that he is, refused to drag you into something that could get you into trouble, but you made sure the offer would still stand, regardless.

Peering through a crack in your curtains, you notice that the curtains surrounding Hermione are still drawn. Gently prodding Nightshade on her tummy, you peel yourself away from your bed and tip toe across to hers, tugging gently on the curtain.

“Hermione?” You whisper, softly, so as to not wake the sleeping forms of your dorm mates, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Hermione replies, gently, “Yes I’m — I’m awake.”

You bite down on your bottom lip and carefully open the curtains, poking your head in through the gap.

“Can I...can I come in?” You murmur, sheepishly. Hermione smiles benignly and pats the side of her bed. You crawl in beside her and she pulls you into a warm embrace.

“Worried about Cedric and Harry?” She asks, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

You nod and she squeezes you a little tighter, comforting you without using words, “Aren’t you?”

Hermione pauses, hesitating. You crane your neck to peer up at her and she bites down on her bottom lip. When she speaks, her voice is so soft, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air, “No, I’m not worried...I’m terrified.”

The two of you lay in silence, holding each other close and watching as the light in the room begins to change, getting thicker and warmer, bathing the room in bright, golden light. It’s a stark contrast to the cold dread that drips down your spine like stalactites, but the warmth blossoming between you and Hermione as you lay silently in her arms is enough to distract you from your own thoughts.

Right now, it’s all you need to drift off into a light doze, allowing yourself to relax in your best friends arms for a fleeting moment.

***

When you wake up again, it’s 8am and the spot beside you has grown cold.

You blink lazily; your eyelids feel like sandpaper grazing against your eyeballs. Your body yearns for more sleep, but you know you can’t...not yet...not until the first task is over...

Stifling a yawn behind your fist, you peel yourself away from Hermione’s bed and dress into your school uniform rather sluggishly. After ensuring that you look somewhat presentable, you manage to drag yourself away from your room, down the stairs and out of the common room, mindlessly greeting your friends as they pass. Neville had even tried to strike up a conversation, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind to carry it.

It’s almost like you’re about to throw yourself at a fire-breathing dragon instead of Harry and Cedric; it certainly feels that way. Your stomach feels like it’s been transfigured into a lump of cold steel as you walk toward the Great Hall, not even caring where you’re heading. The fear is persistent and determined to tear the last shreds of your hope and optimism from your rib cage like some sort of hungry, wild beast.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts, you don’t even realise you’ve arrived at the Great Hall until you’re standing in front of Harry and Hermione.

“(Y/N)?” Harry says, softly, your name on his lips drawing you out of yourself.

You blink once, twice, thrice, noting the similar expression Hermione and Harry are wearing. They stare at you carefully, as though they’re afraid you might shatter before their eyes.

Does everyone really think I’m just pretty and emotional?

Irritation bites into you but you let it slide, biting down on the inside of your cheek and feeling the flesh swell in response as you drop into the spot next to Harry.

“How did you sleep?” You ask Harry, pushing your fears aside as you stare into his nervous, green eyes.

“Horribly,” Harry grumbles, playing idly with his food, “But at least I have a plan. Let’s hope it works.”

“I’m sure it will, Harry,” Hermione coos, softly.

“You were loads better at the summoning charm last night,” you piece together a gentle smile you hope looks reassuring.

“About that...” Harry begins, awkwardly, “Uh - thanks for helping.”

“Well, of course,” Hermione snips as though it were the most obvious fact in the world, “We’re your best friends, Harry. We’re here for you!”

You reach under the table and cover his hand with yours, thumbs tracing the smooth hollows between his knuckles. Harry stiffens for a brief, fleeting moment, hesitating before he relaxes into your touch like water flowing around a river stone. He raises his troubled gaze from his plate to your eyes, and for the first time, you see genuine fear creeping into them.

At that moment, all the veiled secrecy that has been welling between the two of you doesn’t matter. Harry could have all the secrets he wants but that will never change how you feel about him. He’s your best friend, now and always, and you will do anything to help him, protect him, support him.

“Always,” you breathe, so gently you’re not sure if he’s heard you. Harry dispels your doubts with a half-hearted smile. He intertwines your fingers.

They stay interlocked for some time, hidden beneath the table like a shared secret and a promise of comfort, breaking apart only after breakfast concludes and you’re both forced to untangle your fingers and start toward your first class. On your way to History of Magic, you spot Cedric and his group of friends chatting excitedly as they head toward their own class, and you excuse yourself from Harry and Hermione, rushing toward Cedric.

“Cedric,” you call, and he spins around at the sound of his name, a dazzling smile filling his lips when he spots you.

“(Y/N)” he beams as you approach him, eyes shimmering like morning stars.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Troy Hammond greets, cheerily. You high five Troy, exchanging quick pleasantries with him before turning to Cedric.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You ask, ignoring the teasing chortles of Cedric’s friends.

“Of course,” Cedric smiles reassuringly.

“But we have Transfiguration first up,” Troy says, “McGonagall will be pissed...”

“I’m sure she’d be willing to forgive me if I choose to let off some steam before my first task,” Cedric replies, smoothly, the edges of his lips quirking a little. Troy arches a brow.

“I see what’s happening,” Troy smirks, glancing between the two of you and nudging his friends, “(Y/N) Arden is leading our sweet, innocent Cedric astray!”

Cedric rolls his eyes as his friends burst into teasing laughter, “Ignore them, (Y/N). They’re just jealous they can’t have you...”

Troy shrugs, “I mean, you’re not wrong. I’ll be the first to admit that - when Golden Boy Cedric here started ranting obsessively about you - I was a bit jealous.”

Cedric flushes an adorable shade of pink, “I was not ‘ranting obsessively!’”

“Please, Cedric,” one of Cedric's friends pipes up. You recognise her as Kamala Siad, “The way you were talking about her, I thought you were going to propose!”

You bite your lip, warmth blooming beneath your cheeks. Cedric rolls his eyes again, his cheeks the same, romantic tint of pink as a burning sunset.

“Whatever. I’m going to go help (Y/N) now...”

Before his friends can think up any more witty remarks, Cedric takes your hand and leads you away.

“I think you may need some new friends,” you giggle as you arrive in the rose gardens, his hand still snuggly wrapped around yours.

“Tell me about it,” he groans, wincing. You smile softly at Cedric, gazing up at him and admiring for the millionth time how handsome he looks when he’s embarrassed.

“Is it true, though?” You ask, voice gentle against the autumn breeze, “Do you...do you talk about me to your friends a lot?”

Cedric interlaces your fingers with his; they fit together like two pieces of the same heart. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the pressure point between your thumb and index finger.

“I can’t deny that I’m constantly thinking about you,” Cedric’s eyes sparkle as though they contain all the secrets of the universe, “So...maybe it does slip out every now and again.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and nibble down on a goofy grin, cheeks warming like sunlight on a cold day. He gazes into your eyes, pupils like obsidian against glittering sapphire, his smile pulling back to reveal a row of perfectly even, white teeth.

Such a beautiful smile...

“So...” Cedric begins, slowly, “Was there anything you wanted to talk about?”

“Not really. I just...I wanted to see you before the - uh - first task...”

Cedric nods in understanding, averting his gaze to a nearby tree, his smile faltering for the briefest of moments. Fear and anxiety flit across his expression, passing like a shadow before he composes himself. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze and Cedric catches your gaze again.

“I appreciate it,” he murmurs, a genuine smile playing on the edges of his lips, “Really, I do. Every moment I spend with you makes me stronger.”

He pulls you into a hug and you sigh against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. His lips brush against the crown of your head, planting a long kiss to your hair and breathing you in like oxygen. After a long moment, you pull away, keeping your hand in his, and Cedric points at something in the tree.

“Ravens,” he smiles, and you follow his gaze. Sure enough, two ravens are perched on the branch. For a moment, you get a strange feeling that they had just been watching you, but the feeling vanishes when Cedric continues, “They mate for life, y’know...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In most cases, they’re so loyal to their mate that if a female’s mate dies, she won’t find another male partner again. Ever.”

You glance back at the two ravens, now playing with each other in the tree. One of them stops, as though realising it’s being watched, and cocks it’s head at you, it’s beady, black eyes clashing with your own.

You turn away, staring up at Cedric, “That’s kind of romantic, in a weird way...”

“I think it’s sad,” Cedric muses, “I mean, That’s the last thing I’d want for my wife or partner. I’d want them to be happy, y’know...”

You turn back to Cedric, wondering what you’d do if Death took him away from you in the same way it took your mother away. You squeeze his hand a little tighter, as though trying to protect him from Death’s grip.

“Kind of morbid, don’t you think?” You mumble, anxiety sprouting between your ribs like weeds.

Cedric chortles and pulls you to his side, slinging an arm over your shoulders, “You’re right. Let’s change the subject.”

The two of you begin to amble down a gravel path, breathing in the scent of roses that blossoms in the autumn air.

“About the Tournament...” you start, anxiously, “I know that Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Cedric raises his brows, “Did you see someone else put it in?”

You chew your bottom lip, “Well, no.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“....no” you mumble, sheepishly, and Cedric nods.

“How do you know, then?” Cedric asks, gently and unassuming, in a way that passes no judgement in your faith but just out of sheer curiosity.

You stare at Cedric, watching as sunlight streams through his hair and catches in his lashes, bringing out startling hues of blue and grey.

“I just know,” you murmur, “I just...I trust Harry. We’ve been through a lot together so I-I know when he’s lying and - and Cedric, he isn’t lying about this. I think someone put his name in the Goblet so they could plan an attack on him without it looking suspicious.”

Cedric nods again, slowly, as though chewing your comments up and dwelling on them.

“I’ll keep an eye on him for you,” he says, “Make sure he’s okay out there.”

You nearly choke on a sob of relief, lashes fluttering as your heart sings for him, like straining strings to a violin only he knows how to play.

“You would do that?” You breathe, biting your lip. Cedric raises a hand to your cheek, cupping it gently. A comforting, homely warmth tingles beneath his hand as his fingers splay across your skin.

“I’d do anything for you,” he murmurs, “Besides I couldn’t just abandon someone who needs my help.”

Your lips spread into a wide smile, tears pricking the spot behind your eyes as you stare at this boy who would risk it all for you, for your friends, for anyone who needs a helping hand, and you can’t help yourself as you throw your arms around his neck and reach up to the tips of his toes, ready to crash your lips together in a kiss that you’ve dreamt about in every single honey-glazed dream you’ve had of him-

“Miss Arden! Mr Diggory!”

You and Cedric jerk apart. Professor Sprout is standing beside you, dirt-stained hands on her hips. A hint of a smile plays on the corners of her lips, as though she were trying to fight back her amusement.

“Professor Sprout!” You exclaim in embarrassment and surprise, “Um we were just-”

“Consoling Hogwarts champion before the first task,” Professor Sprout interrupts, now not bothering to hide her smile, “I understand he must be feeling quite nervous at this stage...”

Cedric runs a hand through his glossy, brown hair, “Erm...yes. Yes, I am.”

Professor Sprout turns to you, a warm kindness in her large, brown eyes, “Well, I believe offering emotional support to a fellow student is worthy of some points. Ten points to Gryffindor,” her eyes sharpen slightly as her voice suddenly goes stern, “But I suggest that you don’t do this again, in case myself or another Professor aren’t feeling so...generous.”

You and Cedric glance at each other, biting down on a broad grin. Cedric winks at you when Professor Sprout isn’t looking. Professor Sprout stares at you expectantly.

“Well,” she prompts, impatiently, “Off you go, back to class.”

You give Cedric’s hand one last squeeze, a silent bid for good luck, and reluctantly pull away from him. Cedric starts to leave but Professor Sprout stops him.

“Not you, Mr Diggory. I’d - I’d like to have a quick word with you.”

You glance over your shoulder at Cedric, grinning at him. He beams back at you, and as you leave the rose garden, you can’t help but smile as you feel his eyes following your movements.

***

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you’re probably right...”

You blink at Ron, unsure if you heard him correctly. It’s possible that you misheard; the hum of excited chatter buzzing in the air around the make-shift stadium is loud enough to drown out Rons murmured confession, but by the look on his face, your doubts are instantly dispelled.

“You mean about Harry?” You ask, and Ron nods sheepishly.

“Maybe he - erm - didn’t put his name in...”

Ron trails off, but you can tell by the way his lips quirk that he wants to say more, “But...?”

Ron sighs, “But...”

“(Y/N)!”

Someone is calling your name. You glance around, scanning the hundreds of faces until you spot Fred Weasley sidling toward you.

“Hey,” you try to smile, but your sick on nervous energy that putters around at the pit of your stomach. Though the smile on Fred’s lips is enough to settle your nerves for a few, fleeting moments.

Fred nods at Ron, “What’s up, prat?”

“Nothing much, git.”

Fred ruffles Rons hair and Ron wrenches himself away, smoothing down his messy hair, disgruntled. They bicker in a brotherly fashion, tossing insults at each other as you sit between them, and you find your gaze drifting, thoughts running away from you.

You bite your bottom lip, staring out at the arena where Harry and Cedric will be fighting their dragons. You can almost imagine it; the ash on your tongue and the smoke in your nose, a scream trapped in your lungs and the nail-biting intensity of your anxiety clawing away at the base of your spine like some sort of hungry beast. The next couple of hours are not going to be fun.

“You looking forward to the Tournament?” Fred asks, signature smirk curving deviously across his lips. You scowl at Fred, provoking a laugh from the twin. He throws his hands up in mock surrender and your expression softens a little, “Fine, that was a dumb question.”

“You said it,” you grumble, stifling a smirk.

“I guess I’d be feeling the same if both of my boyfriends were competing against each other.”

Your eyes snap back to Fred, sharpening into an incredulous stare, “What are you implying, Fred Weasley...?”

“Nothing,” Fred shrugs, “I’m just looking out for my brother.”

You furrow your brows at Fred, glancing at Ron briefly, only to find him wearing a similar, perplexed expression as you. When Fred doesn’t continue or explain, you decide to let the comment slide by unattended to.

“Where is George, by the way?” You ask, glancing around.

“Selling snacks,” Fred replies, simply.

“Oh, are you going to start selling shirts, too?” You ask, tone sardonic, and Fred barks a laugh.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” Fred chortles, grinning, and you roll your eyes at his teasing remark, “And you raise an interesting point. We could start selling t-shirts, we’d get loads from those...”

You shake your head, biting the side of your cheek to stop yourself from smirking at Fred’s sarcasm.

“Profiteering from the chaos,” Ron grumbles, “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m surprised by your lack of surprise.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips from your lips as you regard him fondly in the sunlight.

“You and George always find ways to cheer me up, you know?”

Fred shrugs casually, “I suppose our natural charm is difficult to resist. Ah, speak of the devil!”

You follow Fred’s gaze and spot George at the end of it, shouldering past people before dropping down beside you.

“Hey!” he grins, reaching across to fist bump you, and you pound fists, laughing as George makes exploding sound effects,

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing here with these two imbeciles?” George grins, ignoring the way Fred groans and Ron opens his mouth in silent protest.

“It’s not by choice,” you quip, teasingly smirking at Fred.

“It never is,” George sighs, then leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I suggest you run for it while you still can. By the way, I saved you a couple of bags of treats,”

George tosses a bag of treats at Ron’s head and it bounces off his forehead, tumbling to the ground.

“Oi!” Ron snaps, disgruntled, as you, Fred and George laugh at his expression. George drops a bag into your lap and you thank him with a flash of a smile, fiddling with the string that ties it together.

“Where’s Hermione?” George asks, scanning his surroundings for her.

“She’s with Harry,” you murmur, leaning forward, “I’m going to go see him afterwards.”

Ron shifts awkwardly in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable with the reminder of his continuous fight with Harry. Fred claps a hand on his knee and springs to his feet, thinking quickly.

“I’m going to find Lee and you’re coming with me, Ron,” Fred orders, dragging Ron out of his seat. Ron glances back at you, bewildered and perplexed, and you give him a helpless shrug and an apologetic look.

George slides closer to your side and drapes an arm across your shoulders.

“You alright?” George asks, surveying you with a touch of concern, “You’re looking a little...”

“I look a little what?” You ask, expectantly, almost daring George to finish his sentence.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, “But all I’m saying, is that - if you’re feeling nervous - don’t be. I’m sure Harry is quite capable, it’s what he volunteered for after all...”

“No, he didn’t,” you snip, firmly.

"You still believe that he didn't put his name in the Goblet himself, huh?"

“Merlin what is with you boys,” you snap, angrily, “First Ron, then Cedric, now you...”

George shrugs, “Well, how did his name get in there?”

You sigh. There’s something about saying the question out loud that makes it infinitely more difficult to answer, “I don’t know, George. I just know Harry wasn’t the one who put it in there...”

George studies you for a moment, eyes sweeping over every detail on your face, and you resist the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny. He seems to be hesitating, biting his tongue in a way you had never seen the twins to do before.

“What is it with you and Harry?” George asks, rather bluntly.

You flush, cheeks warming uncomfortably, “Nothing...”

“Oh, because of whatever’s going on between you and Cedric?”

“Maybe...”

George nods, smirk strained at the edges, like he’s trying to tack it over his lips to hide all the words he’s struggling to say.

“You know, I’m happy for you. Cedric’s a great guy...”

You tug on your bottom lip bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His name has such a profound effect on you like it’s a charm designed to bewitch your heart and fill your chest with millions of butterflies.

“He is...” You breathe, smiling broadly as you reflect on the morning you had spent with him.

“Yeah...almost too good, if you know what I mean...”

You turn to George, brows knitted in confusion as you stare at him, “What’s that supposed to-?”

Click

The sound of a camera capturing the moment in a photograph rings in the air surrounding you and George, drawing your attention away from his peculiar comment to Noah Underwood, who had just snapped the unexpected photo. You shoot him a glare and he shrugs, impassively.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “It looked interesting. Don’t mind if I use it for the paper? Everyone will probably love to see a picture of their famous writer in the school newsletter.”

You shrug nonchalantly and George flashes a wicked grin.

“Sure,” George grins, “Do you want an actual photo of us posing?”

Noah gives a small shrug, watching as George angles himself toward the camera and draws an excitable expression across his face. You rearrange your face into a friendly smile, forcing yourself to relax. Noah’s camera flashes again once, twice, thrice, before he lowers the device and gives a firm nod. You frown at Noah, noticing the name scribbled into the side of the camera.

“So...you found your camera?” You ask, and Noah glances up at you before returning his gaze to his camera.

“Nah, this is just another one I bought last year,” Noah murmurs, not bothering to look up as he fiddles with his camera.

“Oh,” You bleat, “ By the way, Noah, this is my friend, George. George, this is Noah.”

Noah’s sharp, black eyes flick to George, gaze sweeping up and down as though assessing him, before turning back to you, “I know who he is.”

“See, (Y/N), I’m already so famous, I don’t even need an introduction,” George jokes, lips splitting and curling into a teasing grin. Noah rolls his eyes.

“Well, see you around,” Noah mutters, his eyes holding yours for a brief moment before flitting to George one last time. He scowls and sighs, striding away with fluid, easy movements.

“That kid is strange,” George murmurs in an undertone, watching Noah’s retreating form as he shrinks into the crowd.

Hermione arrives moments later, hurrying towards you with a look of concern and urgency. She drops beside you, utters a mumbled greeting to George, and leans in close to you.

“Harry’s ready to see you whenever you are,” she whispers, glancing at George, and you nod, sliding yourself out of George’s arm and heading off toward the tent.

As you approach it, Bagman’s voice booms through the air, echoing across the make-shift stadium as he addresses the crowd. As you pass several people, you spot Cedric looking more worried than excited, a slightly green tinge to his usually perfect complexion. You catch his eye and flash him your warmest, most genuine smile and Cedric visibly relaxes, fighting his own feelings of anxiety by flashing you a boyish smile, tight-lipped from nerves. He’s whisked away before you can even approach him, and, moments later, the roar of the crowd tears through the air as Cedric makes his appearance.

Finally, you arrive at the tent and slip past the folds, beaming when you spot Harry in the far corner.

“(Y/N)!” Harry practically sings, striding toward you. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum barely pay you any mind as you throw your arms around Harry, squeezing him tight in what you hope is a comforting hug. You sigh his name against his ear, burying your head in the crook of his neck as he holds you close, “Merlin, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I’d always be here for you this morning,” you murmur, untangling yourself from his arms.

Harry gives a half-hearted smile, though it looks dim compared to the radiant smiles his lips usually pull into.

“Can you - I mean - I was wondering if you could stay with me until...” Harry breaks off, glancing shyly at his feet.

“Of course, Harry,” you smile gently at your best friend, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Always. Remember?”

Harry nods and leads you toward a cot he had been sitting on. The two of you sit in tense silence, listening to the crowd clap and cheer and Bagman’s commentary. Harry’s stoic expression remained somewhat calm, despite the challenges that lay ahead of him today, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how composed he seems, compared to your constant cycle of worry.

Harry was always good at putting on a brave face. He had done so whenever the four of you embarked on your adventures, always the first to lead the way. Nobility and chivalry were two of the many defining characters that Harry had, but his Gryffindor courage was perhaps his most commendable.

Still, you can’t stop yourself as you reach forward with a trembling hand and grasp his hand, squeezing it tightly as you listen to Cedric, then Fleur, then Viktor fights their dragons. And when the whistle sounds and the crowds fall silent in anticipation, you find that your muscles don’t want to let go.

Harry reluctantly breaks away from you, though your hand still latches onto his. As he moves to pull away, you give one last desperate tug, gazing up at him fearfully.

“Please, Harry, please be careful.”

Harry nods solemnly, green eyes wide with fear, and before you know it you’re flinging yourself into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, paving a path through his dishevelled, black hair with your fingertips, clinging to him like you don’t want to let go. He holds you as though you were anchoring him, afraid to plunge into the depths of his own uncertainty and fear, and you want to stay like this forever and ever, wrapped in each other as you stand on the brink of uncharted territory, but then you remember yourself and you untangle yourself from his arms, pulling away.

And as Harry leaves the tent, you can’t help but feel like he’s carrying your bounding heart with him.

***

Your best friend and your sort-of boyfriend tie in the first task of the Tournament, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

Honestly, it’s more relief than it is excitement; it only took a fight with a Dragon for Ron to see reason and apologise to Harry, thus ending their feud and reuniting the ‘Golden Quartet’, as the four of you are so commonly called. Just knowing that the four of you are no longer divided is enough to leave you grinning goofily and floating on air as you make your way toward the Gryffindor common room, Ron’s arm draped lazily across your shoulder.

“Honest to Merlin, if you two fight again, I’m smashing your thick heads together!” you say on your way back from the Owlery, earning a snort from Harry and a laugh from Ron, “Seriously, guys, don’t ever put me through that again or I might just break down and have a premature mid-life crisis. The three of you have already put me through enough with your little secret conversations!”

The air shifts into hesitation and awkwardness, and for a moment, you think you may have rained on their victory parade. The feeling leaves you, though, when the four of you enter the common room and greeted with boisterous cheers that are so loud, they nearly blow you over.

The common room has been decorated with banners (drawn by Dean Thomas, you recognize the art style). The food table is filled with cakes and sweets, the air shimmers with fireworks set off by Lee Jordan, a dance floor has been set up in the middle of the room, and the atmosphere hums with indisputable excitement at Harry’s victory.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Hermione shouts over the crowd and heads toward the drink stand.

“And we’re going to dance,” you exclaim, grinning broadly as you snatch the golden egg from Harry and hand it to Lee, who nearly buckles beneath it’s weight. Pushing through the crowd of people swarming toward Harry, you drag Harry and Ron toward the dance floor.

Harry pauses on the outskirts of the dance floor, hesitant, “(Y/N)…”

You roll your eyes at Harry, “Harry, you just fought a fucking dragon. I think you deserve this…”

Harry glances around sheepishly, but Ron playfully shoves him toward you and he stumbles onto the dance floor.

Music floods the room, soaking into your skin and gushing through your veins. You can feel it fill every cell in your body, controlling your movements as you laugh and swing your hips to the rhythm. Ron bops along, cracking jokes at your lack of coordination, and you roll your eyes at him.

“And what exactly are you doing, Ron? The Oompa Loompa dance?”

Ron’s brows knit together in confusion at your reference.

“Hermione never told you about Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?” you ask, and Ron shakes his head, “Never mind. It was a muggle movie based on a book.”

Hermione finds you on the dance floor, holding two cups of butterbeer while another two cups float beside her. She hands them out to the three of you, and you all take a swig.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to be over there–”

“Oh, no,” you say, grinning devilishly, “You’re dancing with us, Hermione Granger.”

“No I’m not!” Hermione says, swiftly.

“Yes, you are,” you insist, firmly, “We’re dancing together, and we’re not arguing about this a moment longer.”

Hermione scowls, but her expression melts away when Ron takes her hand and yanks her into the circle.

“No point arguing with her,” Ron says over the music, “Just have some fun, Hermione! We’re celebrating Harry’s victory!”

Hermione’s cheeks flush pink as she sighs, her posture relaxing as she hesitantly begins to dance. Soon enough, she begins to lose herself in the music, and the four of you dance in a circle, laughing while the world revolves around you.

It hardly feels like the past few months have happened as you as the four of you dance away the stress and anxiety that had perched on your shoulders like a menacing demon. Normalcy settles in, tearing through the tension pounding against your ribs. You want to bottle these moments and smear them on your wrists like a fine perfume.

You glance at Harry and find his eyes already on you, drinking you in like fire whiskey. Beaming and intoxicated on liquid adrenaline, he resembles the same Harry you had sat across from in Fred and George’s treehouse in the summer holidays. Bold and brilliant and beautiful, relaxed and gazing at you as though you were the only star in his midnight sky.

You dance toward him, leaning into him, and wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you clumsily waltz together. You breathe him in, registering the scent of smoke and butterbeer and life, a kind of fragrance that not even the richest of wizards could afford, because it’s Harry and he’s here, in your arms, his hands resting on your waist, wrapping around you and holding you like he’s afraid you might fade to dust…

“I love you, (Y/N),” he murmurs into your hair, like a secret made just for you, the words tingling in your ears and kissing the scars on your heart, “I always have, and I always will.”

You pull away from him, tears welling in your eyes, to find Harry smiling warmly at you. His lips are pulled into a smile worth more than any diamond necklace, more than all the stars strung together in the sky.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, “You’ll always be my best friend…always.”

Harry’s smile falters a bit, trembling at the corners, but then it fills out again graciously, “I know.”

The two of you sway to the rhythm, letting it wash over you like a wave as you cling to Harry and Harry welcomes you into his embrace. Neither of you moves with any precise movement, you just allow the music to sweep you away, like leaves in a breeze, following the beat and allowing it to pulse through you, puppeteer your movements, your mind drifting away from you like clouds as your body moves on its own accord.

Nothing has ever felt so natural before, so reassuring in a way that cannot be translated into words. Harry seems to realise this, too, as every now and then he squeezes your waist as though to remind himself that you’re in his arms, not someone else's, and if you weren’t so relieved, you would have thought that was odd. Instead, you allow yourself to be carried away with the moment, collecting every minute of it like seeds and scattering it in the meadow inside your ribcage.

You know it won’t last forever. Harry is going to have to break away at some point, and he will have to talk with the other Gryffindors, listen to them congratulate him on his victory, and ask about that egg. But perhaps that’s the beauty of it. Perhaps that’s why it makes moments like these so precious; because they don’t last forever, so you have to cling to them while you can.

With this in mind, you push away the secrets that had been building up between the two of you, the strange conversations with Ron and Hermione and the odd looks that Harry had occasionally cast your way. Instead, you focus on this single moment in time, this one that you may never get back, and you hug him, hold him tighter, keeping him trapped in your arms like a bird in a cage, like your bounding heart locked away in your chest.

In Harry’s arms, you dance the night away, oblivious to the pair of ancient eyes watching your every move.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench@theseusscamandcr @depressed-octopods-art @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl17 @seunlight @thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018 @polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves @siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @randomoutsiders @smolldork @danidomm @xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood @reimiwritrs @tchalland @lucifersnipnips @notorious-fiction @peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years ago

Text

The Pitted Olive, part 5

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Draq Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: Steve and Tony continue to happily date and Steve has a sweet surprise for Tony, while Tony asks him a big question. Also, Steve meets another drag queen from The Pitted Olive.

length: 3 683 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: I am trying to contradict the sad vibe I am getting from tumblr lately and forcing myself to post. hopefully, this will work for you and me!

——————–

The Pitted Olive, part 5

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

Ding!

"Hi! Welcome to Mama's Little Bakery - Hi Steve!"

"Hi, Kamala," Steve greeted the dark haired girl behind the counter. He took a deep breath, smelling all the frosting and sweet toppings and some earthy notes of a good, real bread. It was a special smell.

"What brings you here? Want to try our new creation?" Kamala motioned to the small plate next to her, where some small cookie pieces were waiting.

"Always," Steve grinned and took a piece, popping it into his mouth. Crumbly, buttery, and sweet. With some floral note to it.

"Rose water and white chocolate cookies," Kamala smiled proudly. Although the bakery specialized in homemade, traditional pastries, the newly hired young personnel was welcomed to experiment. "Teddy came up with that."

"It's great," Steve said enthusiastically, although he felt that nothing could top good ol' double chocolate chip cookies. "Is Mama here?"

"He is in the back with Billy. Heard you placed a special order?"

"Kamala!" a dark-haired teenager with a hair neat stretched over his head popped out from the backspace. "Did you finish putting together the boxes?"

"Not yet!"

"Can you hurry up, please?! The guys from the Xavier's School will be here any minute to pick up the cupcakes for their students!"

"Hi, Billy," Steve smiled at the boy.

"Oh, hi, Steve, sorry didn't see you there," Billy said, walking to Kamala and carrying a tray of cupcakes with yellow frosting and a black x on top. An odd choice, but it was the school's logo. "And where is Teddy?! I need more sugar pearls!"

"Calm down, we have plenty of time!" Kamala said, taking the tray and putting it aside. "If you want to get it done, help me too," she said, pushing a cupcake holder box in his hands to fold.

"I still have like two dozens of cupcakes to frost--- why there is a cupcake missing from the display?"

"Uh oh… Well, I didn't have time to eat breakfast so…"

"How did you even reach it?! It is like your arms can stretch, I swear---"

"I am going to the back," Steve pointed at the door leading to the staff only area, letting the kids resolve this one between themselves. He heard the banter and smiled, thinking that since Sam made a decision to take interns from the baking school, the bakery became much more lively. Entering the kitchen was a whole new experience. The shop part looked sweet and inviting, set in light pinks and cream colors, just as Sam's mom designed. The kitchen was white, with a lot of silver utensils, and the most colorful sprinkles and icing stashed neatly on the shelves. It was perfectly organized.

"Billy, when you will be done with the cupcakes, please check on the apple pies in the oven," Sam said, hearing someone entering the kitchen. He was hunched over a marble table and rolling some dough between his palms, sprinkling it with flour, whenever the dough felt too sticky.

"Hi, Mama!"

Sam turned around, looking in surprise at Steve. "Hairnet!" he scolded, pointing to the shelve with a box of disposable hair nets.

"Dude, seriously?" Steve asked, blankly. Sam was also wearing a hairnet, although he kept his hair in a buzz cut.

"Hairnet or get out from my kitchen!" Sam ordered, slamming the pile of dough against the table to get more air bubbles inside.

"Okay, okay," Steve soothed, stretching the net over his head. "What are you doing?"

"Dough for cinabbons. You know that dough has to be kneaded at least one hundred times?"

"I honestly didn't know that. Why don't you use a stand mixer?"

"Nah, man. It is all about the love you put into your baking," Sam replied, smiling gently and Steve was sure that that smile wasn't for him, but for the dough. "Mixers don't give love."

One day Steve would love to have a job he could be so passionate about as Sam was about his bakery. Working in an art shop had its pluses, like steady hours, steady pay, a lot of free time. Downsides were working with not always sure what they searched for customers and countless hours of rearranging misplaced art supplies. What Steve really wanted was to teach art. Somehow, he never had the courage to take that step. Maybe one day.

"You came here for your order?" Sam asked, straightening up and wiping hands in his apron. The dough was resting under a clean cloth, needing time to rise. "I had to test out a few recipes before I came up with a one I was pleased with," he handed Steve a pink box with a bow and the bakery's logo stamped in one corner.

"Thanks," Steve smiled, taking the package.

"Hope you two will enjoy it," Sam said hurriedly, jumping to the huge deck oven and checking on the apple pies. The hot scent of baking apples and cinnamon drifted to Steve and it was heavenly. "If you want something to go, just tell Kamala, she will pack it for you!"

"Maybe later," Steve started walking out of the kitchen. Sam always offered him free pastries and Steve was grateful, but sometimes it felt as too much. Although, he wouldn't say no to some cheesecake. "Hey, I will see you this evening, right?"

"Yeah. Can you call Billy here on your way out?"

"Sure. Thanks again, Sam!"

Steve left the bakery, holding the pink package and smiling lightly. He was hoping that Tony would love his surprise.

***

"Oh, oh yeah, give it to me, come on - AAAAH!"

Steve was blushing. Blushing so much his face would melt off. Why Tony had to be so loud.

"Mmmmm! That felt good! Come on, one more time, faster, GAAAAAH!"

God. People were staring at him. Just move along, nothing was happening here. Steve was just sitting outside Tony's changing room and curling in embarrassment. Perfectly normal.

"Ooooh, slap it on me! HAAAAAH!"

Maybe he should just wait outside. Seemed like a good idea.

"Ah ah ah… Woah, that was intense. Thanks."

Steve uncurled, his face less heated. Okay, it was coming to an end. Some more talking, and soon a red-haired woman in a white cosmetician coat walked out of the room. She spotted Steve and smiled, in a bit terrifying way. "She is all yours now."

"Thanks," Steve replied meekly.

"Aaah, it is good to feel smooth again!" Red walked out, stretching in her small, gold robe. "See you next month, Nat."

Natasha nodded, grabbing trotting by Arrow, male name Clint, as Steve learned with time, by the arm and twirled with her. "Ah ah ah! Where do you think you are going? You and your hairy pits are next."

"Awww, but I told it is an artistic choice!" Arrow argued in a whiny voice, walking with Natasha to her changing room.

"Don't forget about her back!" Red Velvet called, grinning broadly. Arrow flipped her sister off and it was met only with a giggle.

"Hey, honey," Red Velvet said, turning her eyes to Steve. "Want to feel how smooth I am," she purred, taking his hand and slipping it under the robe, his palm resting over smooth, heated skin near the inner thigh area.

Steve's face exploded with a new shade of embarrassment. He pushed himself and Red inside the room hurriedly and slammed the door behind. Seemed that she just loved making him flustered. "Maybe not now," Steve muttered, feeling that everyone in the club was already observing him.

"Good," Red replied with a smile, moving away, "because I am a little sore. It is not easy getting a full body wax."

"F-full body?" Steve repeated, his mouth falling open a little.

"Full body," Red repeated with a wide smile. This time, Steve felt that his blush went all the way down to his toes. Full body was a whole lot of smooth skin.

"So, what brings you here?" Red Velvet asked, curling in the corner of the couch and patting the cushions next to her, motioning for Steve to sit down. "Lately you only show up minutes before my show."

Oh right.

"I brought you something," Steve said, sitting next to her and handing her a box from the bakery.

Red Velvet frowned, and it was her gentle frown, the one that was practiced to not crease her face too much. "You know that I don't eat before performing."

"Just one bite," Steve asked. He hated that she was starving herself just to squeeze her waist more in the cincher.

"Well… Let's see first what you got me," she said, removing the lid. "Huh."

"They are red velvet cupcakes," Steve said happily. Red velvet for Red Velvet.

"It is from your friend, right?" Red Velvet asked and she took out one cupcake, turning it in her hand and looking at it from every angle. It smelled like cocoa and the white frosting was swirled out perfectly. "It is cute, but I am not actually a fan of red velvet cake," she smiled gently.

"No?" Steve blinked, feeling a bit baffled. "Then why your name is Red Velvet?"

"You think I named myself after a cake?" Red laughed, and it sounded more like Tony than Red, to be honest. "It is because the first dress I wore as a drag queen was made of red velvet. It is not a very friendly material, to be honest, it is a bit heavier than others and you get hot quickly, but it is really nice to the touch. Nowadays my dresses are mostly made of satin. I would really like to try some dresses made of charmeuse, but I don't have the figure to pull it off. You have no idea what I am talking about, do you?" Red laughed, and Steve closed his opened mouth.

"I only know that you have a great figure," Steve said in his defense and Red smiled.

"I am gonna give it a taste," she said, delicately peeling the wrapper off, "you know, red velvet is actually very difficult to make… Too much food dye, and it will be bitter. Too little and it will become dry. It is a tricky cake," she said, biting in. Even though she didn't have any makeup on yet, Steve saw the difference. Tony took big bites, almost in a gluttonous way, always getting his mouth dirty. Here, she took a small, dainty bite, quickly wiping off the frosting off her lips.

"Hm," Red Velvet looked at Steve, and she smacked her lips together delicately. "It… Is actually really good," she said, smiling in surprise. "Really good," she said, offering the rest of the cupcake to Steve, and Steve did the playful thing and took a bite of the cupcake while she still was holding it. Moist cake, a bit salty frosting. Sam did it again. "Good, right?" Red asked, and Steve gave an approving hum. "I thought your friend is miserable in his job, but his cakes don't taste like that."

"Huh?" Steve asked, wiping his mouth when the rest of the cupcake was gone. "What do you mean by that?"

Red shrugged, standing up and going to her vanity station. "He has some… weird vibe around him. Like if being an owner of a bakery is something he doesn't want to do."

"Well, it is complicated… Sam didn't really have a choice," Steve said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Family business?"

"Yeah, family," Steve nodded, remembering the day the Wilson family moved into the neighborhood. They had renovated a shop that used to be a barber place, and Mrs. Wilson finally fulfilled her dream of owning a bakery, a ten-year-old Sam and his siblings helping in every way they could. With time, Sam's older siblings went to live on their own in different parts of the country, and Sam stayed with his mom, still helping. When she was unable to work anymore, Sam took over the business, letting his mom's dream live on through him. Like every person, Sam had doubts about what he was doing, and Steve could see it more often in his friend. Yet, today in the bakery… Sam looked truly happy.

"I understand that. Kids don't want to disappoint their parents," Red said, and Steve looked up curiously because once again, he saw in Red more Tony. He couldn't ask what was going on, because Red continued to speak and it was big news. "Maybe except my daughter. She is a pain and proud of it."

"You have a daughter?!" Steve asked, his eyes wide as saucers. Wasn't that kind of an information he should know from the start?

"Not in a sense you think," Red smiled, obviously enjoying seeing Steve's shocked face in the mirror. "I meant my drag daughter. Tootsie Roll."

"Tootsie?" Steve's mouth fell open. Tootsie was the drag queen he usually saw behind the bar, pouring drinks or sometimes on the stage, singing grungy music. With her smudged makeup and love for plaid and animal prints, she didn't resemble Red Velvet's poised style in any way.

"My little rebel," Red laughed fondly, taking a cotton pad and pouring some blue liquid on her face, starting her makeup routine. "I taught her how to walk, how to apply makeup, gave her her first cincher to hide her hog body---"

"Is her name Tootsie because of you?" Steve asked, pulling his eyebrows together.

Red had to stop and lowered the cotton pad in her hand. "You are really fixated on the topic of sweets today, aren't you?" she smiled and Steve smiled back in a lopsided way. "Actually, I came up with that, but she was the one who allowed it to stay. I called her like that once, because- ughh," Red's smile became a little wider, "okay, that was mean of me, but her first tucks looked like she stuffed a bar of tootsie roll in her pants. It was not completely hidden. So, it kinda stuck."

"That… that is mean," Steve admitted, chuckling lowly.

"Don't laugh, tucking in is a serious business," Red reprimanded, narrowing her eyes. There was some knocking on the door, and she turned away from the mirror. "Come in!"

"Hey, Red, do you have some aloe? I think Nat burned some of my skin," a male walked in, right past Steve on the couch, rubbing his armpit with a scowl.

"Tsk, where are your manners," Red Velvet reprimanded, "Steve, I present to you my daughter, Tootsie Roll. Tootsie, this is Steve."

"Sup," the guy turned to Steve briefly and Steve raised his hand in hello. Wow. It was fascinating how such a bulky guy could transform his body into a perfect hourglass figure. That had to require a lot of padding. He also had strong facial features and a stubble, but makeup had turned his face into a rounder, softer one. Dark, shoulder-length hair which was usually hidden under frilly, big wigs. "Mom, aloe, okay?! I am dying!" she urged Red Velvet in a playful whine.

"Okay, okay. Damn kids."

"I… I think I know you," Steve said, not letting his eyes off Tootsie. The guy turned to him with a slightly mocking smile.

"Well, duh. I am the one who prepares your drinks, Long Island Ice Tea guy," she replied with a smile. And Steve just stared, because without lipstick that smile seemed awfully familiar. Once on a bruised face and a busted lip. A very long time ago.

"Bucky!" Steve called suddenly.

Tootsie made a confused face. "What?"

"You are Bucky!" Steve continued to call, sure of it.

"… Wait, you said, Steve, right? As in little punk Steve?" Tootsie frowned before Steve nodded enthusiastically. After having the confirmation, both men let out a happy scream and ran into each other arms. "Steve! It had been what? Twenty years?!"

"I had no idea, you were back in town! When did you come back?"

"I don't know, a year or two ago? I didn't know you still live in New York."

"This is great," Steve said, drawing away from the hug. "You changed so much."

"Looks who's talking!" Bucky laughed, remembering the small fry he had left. "Growth spurt did wonders to you, pal."

"Um, can someone fill me up?" Red reminded them of her presence, holding in her hands a stick of aloe vera.

"Sorry!" Steve laughed, "me and Bucky were best pals in childhood until his family moved to Ohio."

"Uh, yeah, you never forget the first guy who busted your lip," Bucky said, pointing at the left corner of his mouth, where he had a thin, pale scar. "He had the boniest fists."

"Hey, you gave me a black eye, that's way worse," Steve grinned, shoving his friend in the shoulder. Bucky's and Steve's first meeting was pretty intense, but from a fight that emerged from a misunderstanding, a true friendship was born. They were best buds and inseparable until Bucky's dad got a new job and the whole family moved. Those were some lonely years for Steve until Sam's family moved into the neighborhood.

"Aw, you two are such frat boys, it is adorable," Red Velvet smiled. "But don't you have somewhere to be?" she said, looking directly at Tootsie.

"Oh, right!" she said, suddenly remembering that the time was passing and her shift would soon start. "Hey, come to my bar, we will talk some more. And we could meet one day and catch up. I have to get ready now," she reached her hand for the aloe and Red Velvet tossed it to her. "Thanks! I will see you both later!"

"Bye!" Steve smiled, watching the door close behind his friend. He couldn't stop smiling. It was great to be reunited with his childhood friend. And he couldn't wait to introduce Bucky to Sam.

Red Velvet made a sympathetic sound and walked to Steve's side, pulling his head down to press to her chest. "You are getting all emotional, baby."

Just then Steve realized that there were some tears forming in his eyes. He came to terms with not seeing Bucky ever again and meeting him after all those years was an emotional experience.

"Come on, I will clean you up," Red Velvet said, taking Steve's hand and guiding him to the vanity station. She sat Steve down and took a fresh cotton pad, pouring the same liquid she had used earlier on the pad, and gently rubbing Steve's face all over with it. Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch. He was getting used to all those cosmetic stuff.

"Steve… Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you…"

"Hm?"

"How would you feel about performing in a duet with me?"

"What?" Steve asked, opening his eyes and looking at Red Velvet smiling hopefully at him. "Me and you? On the stage?"

Red Velvet nodded.

"I don't sing."

"I heard you singing under the shower."

"I meant, I don't sing in public," Steve sighed. It was way out of his comfort zone.

"We can do a lip sync. Many drag queens do it."

Drag queens?

"Are you asking because you want me to…?" Steve didn't finish. Her smile was enough to confirm that thought. In less than a second, Steve was off the chair. "Oh no, no, no," he said quickly, walking backward and seemingly terrified. "No way. I am not wearing drag."

"Why not?" Red Velvet asked, crossing her arms and looking a little defensive at Steve's quick refusal. He better chose his words carefully.

"It… It is not my thing!" Steve said clumsily, and Red narrowed her eyes.

"How can you tell if you never tried it before?"

"I just can."

Red rolled her eyes. "It is fine. If you don't want to, I won't force you," she said but sounded a bit offended. She sat on the chair and resumed her beauty routine without a word.

Steve felt guilty. Maybe he reacted too harshly. He looked at the mirror, trying to imagine himself with long hair and makeup. "Would I have to wax my body?"

"No, only shave some parts. Which, between you and me, wouldn't actually hurt to do, you know, I have enough of plucking your hair out from between my teeth each time---"

"La la la la!" Steve sang, pressing hands to his ears and closing his eyes. When he opened them after a while, Red was looking at him with a smirk. Such a big guy and yet he acted like a baby.

"I… I will think about it," Steve gave up, lowering his arms.

"That's all I am asking," Red hummed, putting a headband on her head and reaching for the white foundation.

Steve had an idea.

"You know, you had been showing me a whole lot of your world. How about I show you now some of mine?" Steve said, standing behind the chair and putting his hands on Red's shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Red asked, sounding a bit intrigued.

"Just some guys day out."

"Guys day out?" she repeated, sounding amused. "Will we go to a strip club? Poker night and cigars? That stuff?"

"Oh, you would like that, huh?" Steve teased, squeezing her shoulders playfully, meaning the cigars part. "You will see," he said mysteriously. Red took a moment to answer, before turning on the chair, facing Steve.

"Bring it on, sugar," she said enticingly. Steve smiled wider and leaned down while Red put her hands on his cheeks, bringing their lips into a kiss, probably the last one before she would take the makeup off after her show. The deal was sealed. "Now, get out, I need to get ready," she said, when the kiss ended, turning back to the mirror.

With a smile on his lips, Steve trotted to the door, but changed his mind last second and sat back on the couch, where he had a nice view of his lady getting ready. Red raised her eyebrow at that.

"Or you can stay and watch. That is an option too."

Truth to be told, it was Steve's favorite option.

————-

<– previous part ….. next part —>

————-

tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx , @mangakats, @mystey-writes, @w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle,

#stony #stevetony #superhusbands #tony stark #steve rogers #drag queen #drag queen AU #au #the pitted olive fic #the pitted olive #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling #sam wilson #clint barton #natasha romanoff #Bucky Barnes

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crazy4thewinbros · 6 years ago

Text

Tears of the Sun AU

Hello people! It's Monday and here it's the new chapte!!

Ao3

Chapter 14: Run

They had to run, to the border there was no way they could hold them off, they were outnumbered, outgunned and they had to loose way more than the other side; they still had no answer from base and it was making him anxious, he has lost sight of Tony and that is making him distracted the graze of a bullet on his shoulder is proof of it, his team often reported of their status, the people they had been protecting was diminishing quickly but they kept retreating to the border, gun fire heavy on their backs, Bucky and Clint hadn't responded to their coms

“I don't have signal!” Sam yelled no far from him, he cursed

“Give me the phone!” Came Tony's yell a few yards ahead of him, he sighed and felt like a heavy weight was lifted, Tony was ok, Sam ran towards him and gave him the phone, Stark began to ran and fiddle with it, he ran behind them; he noticed Natasha and Thor not far from them, Scott and Bruce a few yards ahead but Clint and Buck no where to be seen.

“Winter, hawkeye, status” he demanded on the com

“Setting a trap, don't worry” Buck answered and he heard Clint snicker, he sighed and kept running

“Roger that, stay close when you finish” he ordered

“I got something!” Tony yelled, T’Challa was next to Tony Sam a few steps from them

“…iron patriot, please respond” was what he managed to hear over the gun shooting

“Rhodey!” Was Tony immediate answer then a explosion was inches from Tony's side, he fell painfully over a fallen tree, for a moment or two he stayed there stunned and trying to get some air on his lungs.

“T’Challa! Tony!” Came Sam scared yell, he stood up as soon as he was able and ran to Tony, he kneeled and look at Tony he was face up, chest blackened and faintly smoking, there were metal shards sticking out of it, he burned his fingers when he pulled them out, he verily even felt it, Tony didn't even flinch at the pain

“Tony!” He yelled the sting of a bullet on his shoulder made him tumble over Tony's body, T’Challa crawled towards him

“You ok?” He yelled making him pull back T’Challa looked ok dazed but not hurt

“Sweetheart, come on!” He yelled and pulled him towards him, his finger found a pulse, making him sigh in relief “come on, T’Challa get ready to run, come on help get him up come on” he yelled T’Challa nodded and helped him get Tony up for him to carry the unconscious man over his shoulder, Sam was next to T’Challa.

Natasha and Thor firing from an upper position Bruce and Scott from the sides and Buck and Clint firing from the back, as plans go it was a good one but their amo was getting lower by the second, they needed back up right about now, he ran with Tony on his shoulder and Sam trying to get through the call for back up

“Yes, half a mile, team reunited and close! Heavy enemy fire at least from 20 yards away” Sam was yelling in the now working phone

“Get down came the yell from Scott, he was to slow to comply, a bullet logged in his leg and made him fall, Tony fell first back painfully landing on the ground, he landed next to him, there was a wheeze a grunt and then a deep breath, Tony was awake, blood ran from his nose and ears, the gash on his temple caked with blood and dirt, his chest bloody from the shards, the adrenaline didn't let him feel the pain on his leg but he knew that he needed to do something about it he was quick to turn and cut a strip of cloth to form a tourniquet around his tight T’Challa, was quick to help him too, he heard Tony throwing up next to him, but then his hands were on him and pulling the knot of the tourniquet

“Come on Steve, up you go!” Tony yelled, with help of T’Challa they helped him up, Tony was bleeding but refused to be stopped by that, his team was not far from them they made a line of fire for them to ran towards the border; that is when he heard the grunt of pain from Sam and Thor, he turned back and let go of T’Challa and Tony, he ran back.

“Go! Make them open the gate!” He yelled at them before running towards his team, Thor was being held by Bruce and Sam by Clint, while Scott, Nat and Buck covered them

“Help is on the way” Sam winced with every word

“Star one this iron patriot, you read me?” Came from the phone, he grabbed it before Sam did

“Star one go!” He yelled over the gun fire

“Captain Rogers, colonel Rhodes here, eta 20 seconds, need smoke to engage”

“Copy! Clint pop smoke, now!” He yelled, Clint quickly threw the smoke canister and they waited

“I have white smoke, Cap; I'll keep open com now” Rhodes said

“Copy, let it rain Colonel, danger close” he said holding on to Sam, the others pulled close and took cover

“Valkyrie, Marvel, ready to engage, white smoke hostile 20 yards” the order came through the phone, then he heard the planes and saw them

“Ready to engage, lets fire this assholes up” the feminine voices came from the phone

“take cover captain” Rhodes said

“Cover!” He yelled over the gun fire and the explosions came soon after, the loud noise made his ears ring, dirt and smoke made him hard to breathe, the heat from the explosions making his skin get goosebumps what felt like hours to him were just seconds then the drumming of the helicopters made him turn to look up, he couldn't stop the smile that graced his lips, Clint let out a bark of laughter and Scott a woop of joy

“Celebrating so soon? So American of you” The voice of a man above them assault rifle pointed at them, made them all still; they were out of amo, they were sitting ducks right now, they all turned to look at the man, he was tall and jacked; black hair and half his face scarred, no it was burned, Rumlow he must be, the rage he felt in that instant was incomprehensible, for what he could see he must be over 40 almost 50, so when he tried to rape Tony he must have been 30 something 40 maybe, damn he was going to kill this guy.

“Now now, were is my precious little doctor uh?” The man asked the lear and treat in his voice made him want to rip him to pieces, he wasn't going to even get closer to Tony to even see him, Rumlow pointed the gun at Nat the loud bang made them all still.

“Get the hell away from them” came Tony's voice behind them, he dared a quick glance at the man, but he noticed he wasn't alone Phil, Sharon and several agents were there with him, he smiled

“Drop the gun Rumlow” Phil said, looking that he was clearly outnumbered he let the gun drop, Sharon was quick to hold him down and take any guns he had stashed.

“You ok, God please tell me no one is dead” Tony said kneeling and fretting over them

“I need medical” Thor said

“I” came Scott voice

“Me too” Sam said with a grunt

“You all do, come on” Phil said helping them up, Tony helped him up

“Tony you still bleeding” he said, he shrugged

“Come on big guy, medical is this way” he said clinging to his frame, the gates to the border were open, the refugees they had helped cross to the border now in Kenyan soil, the helicopters ready to take flight and take them to the helicarrier, Tony was holding him up along with two agents

“Tony!” A girl voice yelled making them halt, Tony turned and saw Shuri with Kamala, he smiled, dislodged from him and ran toward her, Kamala rising her little arms to greet him, he took her from Shuri’s arms and brought her to his chest

“Kamala, honey I missed you so much” he said to her, Nat was by his side now along with Bucky

“A spoiled boy uh?” Buck said with a grin, he smirked

“No, anything but that” Nat said, he nodded, Phil was now next to Tony who nodded and gave Shuri a hug, Kamala firmly on his arms, they moved to the helos, Sam, Scott and Thor in one, Nat, Clint and Bruce in the other; Phil, Buck and him waited for Tony who was just about to get on with them.

“We love you Tony. All of us, we will always will” T’Challa stoped Tony from getting on the helicopter Shuri by his side “thank you, for your help” he said and then turn to look at them “captain Rogers, thank you, for helping my people, the people of Wakanda will never forget you or your team, thank you” T’Challa said he nodded, Tony gave him his phone

“I'll call, be in contact with Phil, I'm sure we can help even more T’Challa” Tony said with a smile, he nodded, Tony got up on the helicopter with Kamala on his arms still, Tony sat next to him while Phil and Buck sat in front of them; he smiled at the little girl clinging to Tony, the girl smiled at him too.

“Cap, win’er, ‘Ony” she said pointing at them, Buck smiled

“Winter, yes that is right Kamala” he said, Phil was smiling but when Kamala shifted and Tony winced the smile dropped from all of their faces

“I'm fine no internal bleeding, just scrapes that need stitches, stop worrying, Steve is the one with bullet holes on his body” Tony pointed out, he winced at Bucky's glare.

“Will be on the helicarrier in 7minutes, and all of you are going to medical” Phil pointed out which made Buck and him groan and roll his eyes at the same time and Tony honest to God giggle, he stared at the man who was hiding behind a toddler and shaking from laughter, his eyes were ablaze with joy and kindness the whiskey flared with liquid happiness and relief, he smiled at the man and stretched his legs, Tony sighed and leaned on him, he put an arm around him and held him close, the pain on his shoulder and leg a far off thing on his mind.

“Thank you” came Tony's voice inches from his ear, he turned to look at the man, Tony smiled softly and leaned even closer, his lips touched his, it was chaste and delicate, but it was the best kiss he has ever had.

“Fucking finally!” Buck said making them pull apart, he glared at his best friend but the urge to throw himself out of the helicopter when he noticed the icy glare of Phil directed at him was to real.

“Agent stop it, you are scaring him!” Tony's wine made Phil smile at the younger man in such affectionate way that he knew there was history between both of them, he gulped at the repercussions of that particular familiarity, Bucky snorted at them and let out a full body laugh, he tried to stifle his but couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips, Tony leaned comfortably and he held him tighter, he was hell bent in never to let him go.

3 notes · View notes

bevioletskies · 7 years ago

Text

20 questions [12/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: janet announces two new school-wide events, gamora tries to change her strategy when it comes to dealing with her feelings, and yondu is the captain of this ship, and no, I'm not talking about the eclector.

word count: 5301 | total word count: 118k

a/n: listen, yondu being alive and well in this au of mine might be one of my favourite parts about writing it.

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

So maybe, just maybe, it was a little narcissistic for Peter to think this way, but it seemed as if the entirety of the Academy was breathing a little easier once he and Gamora had made up, and were successfully faking it again. They held hands wherever they walked (so long as the others weren’t with them - Rocket had taken to making kissing noises whenever they stood a little too close together), kissed whenever they had to part ways for classes, and told stories about their “dates” to anyone who would listen.

Except this time, unlike their “origin story”, as Peter had called it, the “dates” were nearly one hundred percent truth. They talked about the rude SHIELD agent, the date in Shakespeare Park, the musical, the museum - they even mentioned dancing in the hotel room, in which Gamora rolled her eyes in pretend fond annoyance, while Peter winked at their enraptured audience. “Can always count on a romantic song to set the mood,” he had said cheerfully. Hey, if they weren’t going to talk about how that night had ended in private, they could at least play it up in public.

On Friday afternoon, after classes were over and everyone had dispersed out onto the quad, Janet was once again poised to make announcements, this time sitting atop the bulletin board, megaphone in hand. “Attention, Academy students!” she hollered, as if she wasn’t already amplifying her voice enough. “Just a reminder that voting ends in two weeks, so get your ballots in. We need more volunteers for ballot counters, sign-ups are available at Avengers Hall. Also, we have two new super exciting events ready to share with you guys!”

“Now what,” Rocket groaned. “She ain’t gonna break out a confetti gun, is she?”

“Ten units it’ll be a fog machine instead,” Yondu said.

“Deal. Shake on it.”

“As a school of heroes, we’re always working towards saving the day. I mean, that’s our number one goal here, right?” The crowd cheered ecstatically. “But I think there’s one more thing that we can do to close out this school year as a way of giving back - a fundraiser festival!” Janet kicked her legs up and down in excitement. “There’s so much talent at this school that doesn’t always get celebrated the way that our hero-ing skills do. So, you can either sign up to present a talent, or, volunteer to run a booth! There will be a bake sale, a dunk tank, a temporary tattoo artist, and maybe we can get a kissing booth set up?” She winked, causing giggles to ripple through the crowd. Director Fury was shaking his head nearby, arms folded in defiance. This was what he got for running a superhero school full of teens and young adults.

“I am Groot?”

“Kissin’ you’s like kissin’ a baby, Groot. Don’t think anyone here’s running for president anytime soon, ‘cept maybe Cap.”

“I have also finally gotten Director Fury to agree to host a prom this year! Tickets are on sale now at the Avengers Hall, and ticket sales, plus all our fundraising money, will go towards various charities around the world and Damage Control right here in New York.” Janet beamed. “The theme for this year’s prom will be…”

“Ten units it’s Under the Sea.”

“I bet ten it’ll be A Night to Remember.”

“...Masquerade Madness!” Janet squealed. Yondu and Rocket muttered “damn!” under their breaths in sync. “Everyone will be wearing a mask - bonus points if it looks like your actual superhero mask. But don’t actually wear your superhero mask, that’s lazy and I’ll be mad.” The students exchanged dubious looks - they didn’t like Janet when she was angry. “Anyways, that’s all! Thank you, lovelies!”

As the crowd began to disperse, chattering excitedly to their friends about what they were going to do for the fundraiser or who they wanted to go to prom with, Peter stepped closer to Gamora, hands moving to settle on her waist. She shivered at the touch as he bent towards her ear, kissing the side of her head before whispering, “I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

“I would if I knew what your idea was,” she muttered back, though he ignored her in favour of walking around her so he was facing her front. Her eyes widened in alarm as he got down on one knee, arms spread wide.

“Gamora,” he said loudly, and what was that odd not-British accent he was doing? Out of the corner of her eye, she could already see other students forming a circle around them, whispering to each other as they watched their spectacle. Janet had flown over, phone in hand, eyes the size of saucers. Kamala was bouncing up and down nearby, tweeting with reckless abandon and trying not to squeal too loudly. “My incredible, beautiful, deadly, powerful, deadly powerful - ”

“Quill,” she huffed, though she tried and failed to hide her smile behind her hands.

“ - will you go to prom with me?” Peter finished, looking so wonderfully earnest she could feel her grin spreading even wider. It was as if he was really hoping she would say yes, but that there would be a chance she would say no, and really, why would she say no?

“I thought it was a given, considering you’re my boyfriend,” Gamora said, and wow, she did not say that word out loud enough, it felt too foreign on her tongue, “but yes, of course I will.”

A cheer went through the crowd, firmly solidifying Peter’s somewhat arrogant belief that his relationship with Gamora had become a beloved part of the school’s social environment. As he got to his feet, his usual cocky grin on his face, he wondered how else he could possibly play up the moment. Gamora seemed to have the same idea, launching herself in his arms with surprising force, burying her face in his neck. “Smart,” she murmured, breath hot against his ear. “Our classmates will definitely know we have made up by now.” She pulled away, but not before taking both of his hands in hers, squeezing gently.

“And we continue to be the cutest couple in school,” Peter replied softly, smiling. “Let’s go get our tickets.”

“Wait! I have a confetti gun I want to use on you guys! Come back!”

“HA! Pay up, blue boy.”

“Ain’t never betting on nothin’ with you again, rat.”

______

Dinner that night on the Milano was a much more raucous affair than that of the previous three nights, now that Peter was back with his team. Everyone’s spirits were lifted, relieved that their leaders were once again back in a good place. Peter even offered to help Mantis and Drax cook (“You have burned water, Quill, get out”), but instead was relegated to setting the table.

“Man, I missed you guys,” Peter sighed happily. “The whole ‘broody loner’ schtick really doesn’t work for me.”

“I don’t understand none of the crap that came outta your mouth just now,” Yondu said, slapping him on the back. “But we missed you too, boy. Twig got all weepy, it was awful.”

“I am Groot,” he protested, though he jumped up and down, arms outstretched, for Peter to scoop him up.

“I missed you the most,” Peter told him, resulting in a tiny wooden smile so cute that even Nebula, who was otherwise sulking in a corner, had to fight the urge to grin. “But hey, while I was away, I watched a couple movies with songs you might like. I’ll play ‘em for you sometime.” Groot nodded eagerly, patting his small hand against Peter’s cheek before jumping back down again onto the kitchen counter.

“You done cryin’ about your own problems yet?” Rocket entered the room, lugging what looked like a giant detonation device behind him. “Found this mysterious piece of crap dumped outside. Probably Stark’s. Has all the parts we need to get the Milano finally back up and runnin’. This your doing, Quill?”

“No, but he’s been sneaking stuff in for us, as far as I can tell,” Peter replied. “It’s a good thing, right? You don’t have to acknowledge he helped, and we can finally get my baby working again.”

“Your insistence on referring to the Milano as a child is disturbing.” Gamora had walked into the room and swatted Peter’s arm playfully in a surprising display of casual affection, a stoicism in her eyes that didn’t match the gentle smile on her face.

“Not a child, my child.”

“Do you people ever talk about anything of significance?” Nebula’s sigh was almost impressive as Director Fury’s. “Gamora and I have decided to kill the Black Order. We apparently require your assistance.”

“Oh, hell,” Yondu groaned, throwing himself down on the couch. “Can’t we focus on one thing at a time, girl? Got enough on our plate as it is.”

“Your failure to perform well at school has nothing to do with the rest of us,” Nebula shot back. “Try harder.”

“Nebula.” Gamora clicked her tongue at her sister disapprovingly. “Let’s not turn this into a fight for once, okay?”

“That’s hypocritical, considering you and Quill having a lover’s spat nearly made this whole team fall apart in a matter of days.”

“We had a misunderstanding, it’s fine,” Peter said defensively. “Mantis, Drax, is dinner ready yet?”

By the time everyone had finally sat down to eat, Peter was reminded of how exhausting it was to keep up with his ridiculous team of misfits, but damn if he wouldn’t trade them in for all the units in the world (alright, maybe Nebula, but she was slowly growing on him, too. She was important to Gamora, so by extension, she was important to him as well).

“I spoke with Janet earlier today,” Mantis said after a few thankfully silent minutes of everyone stuffing their faces. “She said she didn’t want to give away the current voting results, but that you and Gamora seem to be in second place at the moment.”

“Second? Who’s in front of us?” Peter exclaimed, food nearly spilling out of his mouth as he spoke.

“Captain America and Agent Carter, of course,” Mantis replied with a shrug. “Even students who do not care much about love voted for them because it is a love that spans decades.”

“Gamora and I have literally seen each other almost die, like, ten times each. Isn’t that romantic?” Peter was flailing again, waving his fork around haphazardly. Gamora moved to gently push his hands down before he could knock over everyone’s cups in the process.

“The almost dying isn’t romantic, Quill, the ‘saving each other’s lives’ part? Maybe,” she said dryly, letting her hand linger for an extra moment before moving away.

“We could stage a - ”

“No, no, boy, you are not riskin’ your hide just to win sympathy points from those fools,” Yondu said fiercely, slamming a fist down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle. “You’ve had some stupid ideas in your life, but that might be one of your worst yet.”

Sulking, Peter slumped back in his chair, throwing down his fork in defeat. “We gotta give it one last boost. Two weeks, and voting is over. It doesn’t even matter what we do afterwards, but something’s gotta be done now.”

“What happened to the other categories? You are all acting as if this is the only one that matters,” Nebula said with a smirk. “Have we all become so invested in this lie that we’ve forgotten about winning ‘Best Team’?”

“You technically are not part of the team,” Drax reminded her. “Frankly, I’m unsure if it will ever happen for you.” Nebula sneered in response. Gamora stomped on Drax’s foot from the other side of the table, shooting him a warning glare. He let out a howl of pain.

Mantis’s hands shot out to clasp at both Gamora and Drax’s wrists, quick to subdue them before it could escalate. “Actually, Janet says we will probably win that one,” she said, brightening. “The Avengers fight too much, the Defenders are scary to a lot of the newer students, and the other teams are not as prominent in popularity. Peter is especially recognizable to the general public. There are many girls who like to post on social media about him.” Peter could see Gamora’s nose wrinkle in disapproval, so he reached to gently pat her on the leg under the table, hoping no one else could see.

“Awesome, so that’s fifty thousand units in the bag. No, Drax, there’s no physical bag,” Peter interrupted himself as Drax opened his mouth. “And as much as I want to win Most Attractive Team...because that’s apparently a thing, the Avengers look like freaking models. And we have a raccoon.”

“I’M NOT A - ”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

“As always, I’ve gained nothing out of this.” Nebula stood to leave with her plate and cutlery, half of her food still left over. Her dramatic exit was ruined by getting stuck behind Drax’s chair on her way out. They all watched in awkward silence as Drax scraped his chair along the metal floor to allow Nebula to side-step with her back against the wall, an increasingly murderous scowl forming on her face.

“We should figure out a plan of attack against the Black Order or she might attempt to leave again,” Gamora muttered to Peter.

“You think we can wait until after the voting’s done?”

After dinner was over, Gamora went to go give Groot a bath (it was usually Drax’s chore, though he’d been protesting against it ever since Groot had been sick that one time and puked on him in the shower), Rocket disappeared to start taking apart the device Stark had “donated”, and Drax followed him to “help” (more like observe and criticize despite knowing nothing about engineering compared to Rocket), leaving Yondu and Peter to take care of the dishes.

“I think I finally figured Nebula out,” Peter said as he dumped a generous amount of dish soap into the sink. “She doesn’t make dramatic exits from dinner because she’s mad or irritated, she does it to get out of dish-washing duty.”

Yondu started opening all the cabinets in search for a clean washcloth. “And y’all say I’m irresponsible.”

“You literally haven’t done homework in like, three months, man,” Peter pointed out. “You’re smarter than this, Yondu.”

“Don’t lecture me about smarts,” Yondu grumbled, finally locating one behind a stack of suspiciously foggy-looking shot glasses. “I know what I’m good for, and it ain’t school.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try,” Peter said. He began scraping the food scraps off the plates into their composter. It seemed slightly clogged, but he couldn’t tell if it was because it was a terribly cheap machine or if Rocket had been messing with it for parts.

“I’m done talkin’ about this, but you know what I wanna know more ‘bout? You and Gamora,” Yondu said, straightening up with a smug grin. “What happened? Y’fought for like, five days straight. That’s a record for you two.”

“We both said stuff we regret, no need to share the details,” Peter mumbled. “She might’ve also made it pretty clear she doesn’t actually want to date me, and I guess it just made me kinda sad, but, y’know, I’ll get over it.”

“You asked?” Yondu’s eyes widened. That seemed like an unlikely turn of events. Peter was overconfident at times - well, most of the time - and might’ve overdone it, whatever it was he had done, but Gamora didn’t seem like she would turn him down. She was starting to look just as gooey-eyed around Peter as he did around her. Not that Yondu was paying attention, of course.

“No, but she’s weirdly trying to set me up with girls I barely know,” Peter huffed, throwing the plates into the sink a little more aggressively than he needed to. “You don’t do that with a guy you want to date, therefore, she doesn’t wanna date me.”

“You do if you think it’ll make ‘em happy,” Yondu said, frowning. “If you love someone, you do whatever it takes to make ‘em happy. Don’t you know anything about love?”

“Come on, Yondu,” Peter sighed. “We grew up together. You know that ‘love’ wasn’t ever really a part of my relationships, if you could call ‘em that. Gamora’s...the closest I’ve ever had.”

“Now, now, Quill. You put on a big show, make them girls think you’re smooth,” Yondu said, pacing around Peter. Oh no, Peter thought, it’s Yondu’s Dramatic Speech Time™. “You charm ‘em, kiss a fair bunch, sleep with a couple ‘cause you think it makes you happy. And it does, for a while. But then, you ditch the Ravagers, try to start over, fresh, at the Cosmic Conservatory, and you see a girl that spins you on your head.”

“The pacing really isn’t necessary,” Peter interrupted, but Yondu just continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not just that she’s pretty - and she is - it’s that she’s clever, she’s resilient, she’s strong, she’s unlike all the girls you been after your whole life. You flirt with her, but it don’t work ‘cause she’s smarter than that. You don’t wanna give up because she’s somehow different. But then this whole orb business, and Ronan, and you go back and forth, saving each other’s lives, and next thing y’know, you’re runnin’ a team together, living on a ship together, goin’ to school together. She’s everywhere, and she’s almost too important, so you play house instead.”

“Yondu - ”

“You’ve gotten too comfortable in pretendin’, boy,” Yondu said, brandishing a wet spoon at him. Peter winced as it made an incredibly disgusting squelching sound. “You gonna let a good thing like that slip away ‘cause you think she don’t feel the same? Here’s an idea - ask her.” He stood even taller, a satisfied look crossing his face. “I’ll only believe ya if she actually says no.”

Peter blinked at him in disbelief. “Do you know how dramatic you look when you do that? No, don’t answer that, you definitely do.” He sighed, turning back to the sink so he could scrub at the last plate instead of looking at Yondu’s smug expression. “Look, I’ve only just sort of acknowledged that I have feelings for her, okay? And this isn’t the first time - for some stupid reason, I - you know what, I’m not telling you about that. But now, I know for sure, that I like her, a lot, and I’m not ruining a good thing by telling her.”

Yondu snorted. “That’s what all those idiots in those films a’yours say. What’re you waitin’ for, boy, some big, life-changing moment?”

“No,” Peter snapped. “I’m waiting for proof that she feels the same. You think I like getting hurt?”

“So all them girls you flirted with before, you knew it was a sure thing? Never thought you’d get turned down?” Yondu leaned against the counter. “I don’t believe that.”

“Getting turned down for a date or a casual hookup is one thing,” Peter said, setting the last dish down, staring at it intensely like it had personally offended him. “Being rejected when you tell someone how much you like them? When they’re one of the most important people in your life? A whole ‘nother ballgame.”

“So you’re sensitive,” Yondu shrugged. “Your strength and your weakness, if y’ask me. Love, compassion, that’s your real power, ain’t it? You care so much about people you don’t even know. I’m just sayin’, a girl like Gamora, she’s a toughie, but she’s got some baggage. Insecurities, like everyone else. She might need you to spell it out for her before she shows her hand at all.”

He walked away with a knowing smile and wink, leaving Peter feeling thoroughly chastised. Yondu was only older than Peter by a year or two, so why did he feel like just got lectured by a father he didn’t have? He shivered a little at the thought of what his actual father had been like - a “complete and utter jackass”, to quote Yondu’s apt description of him. The way he’d tried to get between Peter and the other Guardians, the way he’d taunted him about his mother. Peter winced when he remembered how Ego had compared his relationship with Gamora to be like his own relationship with Meredith. Never, Peter thought fiercely.

Left alone with his thoughts for a few minutes as he mindlessly rearranged the kitchen cupboards (who thought it was a good idea to put preserved eyeballs next to the jam? Why did they have preserved eyeballs, and who was eating jam?), a voice pulled him back to reality. “What’re you doing?” Peter jumped, turning to see Gamora standing there, leaning against the wall, wearing one of his hoodies, her hair slightly damp at the ends. He raised an eyebrow. “Groot was fussy and splashed me, don’t look at me like that,” she chuckled. “Why are you moving everything around? Do you not have homework?”

“I do, which is why I’m doing this instead,” he lied smoothly, shutting the cupboard door. “You staying here tonight?”

“Are you?” She stepped closer, blinking up at him. “It’s the last Friday before I finally get back to performing at Club Galaxy. I thought we could do something.” Peter was pretty sure his brain short-circuited when she bit her bottom lip, an impish grin forming on her face.

“You, uh, have something in mind?” Peter was very confused. He couldn’t be sure, considering he’d never seen her do it before, but was she flirting with him? He’d been surprised enough yesterday when Gamora had ended up sleeping in his bed, but now her tone suggested she wanted a continuation. Before his brain could take him to a different line of thinking, he weakly suggested, “Another movie, maybe?”

Which is how he found himself, once again, in his (other) bed with Gamora pressed against his side, showing her -

“Dirty Dancing?” she said. “You’re not even trying to pretend anymore, are you?”

“Why’re you wearing my jacket?” Peter blurted before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure why the thought to ask had suddenly registered in his head, as if she hadn’t been wearing it for the past twenty minutes already. She looked so at home in his clothes that he could feel all those feelings bubbling up again in his stomach, both something oddly warm and comforting, and something that was urging him to do something he’d regret.

“Janet is having some girls’ tea party - I don’t even know why - and I thought that showing up wearing what is clearly my boyfriend’s jacket would help,” Gamora said. She didn’t even look convinced of her own words - as valid as her point may be, it explained nothing about why she was wearing it now. Still, he decided not to comment as he mulled over what Yondu said. She was, despite her warrior’s exterior, still a young woman with sensitivities. He’d seen it in the discomfort on her face when he’d confronted her about what she said about him, how words could hurt her more than any weapon ever would. It wouldn’t do him any favours to point out the flaws in her logic.

He hummed, laying his head down on the pillow, wondering vaguely if she was planning on staying in his bed tonight as well. Probably not, considering her room was just next door, but it was a nice thought. Unlike Gamora, Peter had shared a bed with people before. Not always for sexual reasons, but with his mom when he’d had a nightmare, or even with Yondu when the Eclector was particularly overcrowded (Yondu didn’t like to talk about it). There was something about waking up to see her next to him that made him feel safe. And maybe, for a moment, he could pretend it was a result of something real. He stole a glance at her, watching as her dark eyes fixated on the screen, taking in Baby and Johnny’s dance practice. “Maybe we should do the lift at prom,” Peter said, half-jokingly.

“I hope you’re not expecting that,” Gamora said, pointing as Jennifer Grey crawled across the floor. He momentarily got distracted by the mental image that her idea had provided him.

“That would be really difficult to do in a prom dress,” he chuckled. “Hey, so do you really want to go to prom?”

“It would be odd if we didn’t,” she replied.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Peter said softly. “Not for the con. For you.”

“I like experiencing the things I missed out on,” Gamora said thoughtfully, finally turning back to look at him. “I guess it makes me feel like I've become a part of something meaningful, even if it is just a school dance.”

“Then I'm glad to be a part of it,” he declared. “Now, after this movie is over, you have to tell me whether you've had the time of your life…”

______

The weekend passed by with little issue, all things considered. After the turmoil the team had gone through in the past month, they were grateful for the mundane, monotonous crawl of a lazy weekend. Peter was still a little rattled by Yondu’s speech, but he knew it came from a place of caring, as much as Yondu would deny it.

Peter and Rocket even managed to fix the Milano and finally get her up and running once more. True to his word, Peter started off by doing his repairs in a T-shirt, stripped down to a muscle tank, and eventually decided to go shirtless for the last couple hours in the height of the afternoon sun, sweat dripping down his forehead. He was pretty sure there was some irony in being cat-called by Tigra and Black Cat as they passed by the loading bay.

“Is this display necessary?” Gamora sighed when she had dropped by after spending most of her day with Janet and the other girls. “It’s not that hot.” He noticed she was still wearing his hoodie, now fully unzipped over her usual “uniform” of a blank tank top and leather leggings. It was a good look on her.

“You might be used to wearing all-leather outfits in the peak of summer, but I’m not,” Peter replied with a smirk. “I thought you’d enjoy the view, honey.”

“Yes, I don’t know why you’re complaining, Gamora, unless you want to keep him all to yourself,” Felicia purred. “You could cut diamonds on his stomach. I should try that sometime.”

“Don’t talk about him like that, his ego is already the size of his ship,” Gamora said, frowning, though she moved closer so she could kiss him. If her hands lingered on Peter’s bare torso for a little while longer than they needed to, well, that was her business.

Sunday was when the Guardians caught up on homework, albeit separately. Yondu also took the opportunity to chase the others down and chastise them about slacking. “You are telling us not to slack?” Nebula said, eyes narrowed. “That is a first.”

“Not on homework, girl. Your sister and Quill,” Yondu said, causing her to groan.

“Still on about that, are we? You seem oddly invested,” Rocket commented slyly. “What’s going on there, Yondu?”

“You really wanna know?” Yondu snapped.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” Rocket stood to his full height (three feet tall, so hardly intimidating, but to his credit, he had one of his signature BFGs by his side). “I wanna know why you care so d’ast much.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Yondu settled into the armchair, glancing around to make sure Peter and Gamora were nowhere nearby before starting. “I might not’ve been captain yet, but when I was a kid Ravager, we had a job to go pick up some skinny kid off Terra. Weren’t allowed to ask questions about why or what we were doin’ with him. I watched ‘em big boys haul in that snot-nosed kid, who wouldn’t stop cryin’ about his mama. I was one of the only kids on the Eclector, so they told me to shut him up by any means possible. I didn’t wanna hit him or nothing, he was probably 60 pounds soaking wet. So, I asked him if he knew why he was here, what happened to his mama. Next thing I know, kid’s rattlin’ off about his music, all the shit he’s got in his backpack that she bought him, stuff like that.”

Mantis leaned forward, eyes wide, enraptured. “And then what happened?”

“One of the men - not the cap’n, just one of them commanders - came in and yelled at me for makin’ it worse. I say, ‘kid’s scared, he thinks we’re gonna sell him into slavery. We ain’t doing that, are we?’. The guy decks me across the face - me, also just a kid.” Yondu sighed slowly. “Then Quill, ‘cause he’s a dumbass, starts hittin’ the guy - who’s prob’ly 300 pounds on an off day - kickin’ him in the shins, hollerin’, saying ‘leave my friend alone, he ain’t done nothing’. We been talking for an hour tops, and he already thinks we’re friends.”

“That sounds very much like Quill,” Drax said, smiling fondly. “A man of good intention and terrible execution.”

“The guy don’t leave ‘til Quill’s got another black eye and a couple bruised ribs, but he’s smilin’ like he won a million units, ‘cause he’s decided that I’m stuck with him,” Yondu continued. “All cheery-like, tells me his face hurts, like I can’t tell. Won’t shut up about nothing ever since. And we get older, we start talkin’ about girls we like. Go out on jobs, see pretty girls, we flirt with ‘em, it can’t hurt. And I’ll admit, Quill’s more successful ‘cause he’s got that something special, y’know, but then he ditches the Ravagers for the Cosmic Conservatory. When I finally see him again, he’s talking about some girl with a sword who kicked his ass. And yeah, he mentions how pretty she is, but it’s everythin’ else that makes me realise there’s more to her than that. In some ways, feels like the way he used to talk about his mama - with love, with respect. He got it bad.”

“You really trying to say Quill’s had a crush on her since the beginning?” Rocket said, skeptical. “I mean, yeah, now he’s pretty obvious about it, but what about before when we were fighting Ronan? He was all business once we got down to it.”

“Gotta have your priorities straight, boy,” Yondu said, wagging a finger at him. “No time for nookie-nookie when there’s a maniac on the loose. Anyways, I been listening to Quill yammer on about nothin’ for years, and all a’sudden, he’s reluctant to talk. Something’s changed - it’s for real this time. For the first time, he’s nervous about losing. So we gotta help him out, push ‘em both in the right direction.”

The group fell silent for a moment, considering. “I have been helping,” Mantis piped up. “They are both too stubborn to admit it, but I can tell they both want it to be real.”

“Admittedly, I’ve not really done my part,” Drax murmured, head bowed as if he were ashamed. “But neither of them listen to me as much as you or Yondu.”

“I am Groot?” He blinked up at them slowly, hopeful. Rocket nodded approvingly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Groot,” he said. “Groot thinks he can use the ‘child’ angle to his advantage. Y’know, bring out the parenting instincts.”

“That’s good, twig,” Yondu said, smiling. “So, we all clear now? Get ‘em together so Quill can get back to normal. This weird, evasive crap? Ain’t like him.”

“If it will get you to shut up about it already,” Nebula muttered.

a/n: fluffy ridiculous OTT team dynamics are everything. hope y'all found this chapter to be a breather after the ridiculousness of the last one. next chapter's a fun one - the team finally take on a new job now that the milano's up and running, which may or may not make our lovely "couple" question whether they're doing this for the money anymore. also, black cat and tigra for those of you who don't know who was hitting on peter in that end bit there.

#starmora #peter quill #gamora #gotg #avengers academy #myfic #myfic: 20q #marvel #who likes writing cliches? sammi likes writing cliches #i have a weakness for clothes sharing ok #i mean...imagine gamora wearing peter's jackets...

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angela-johnson-me · 5 years ago

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So it is Saturday, the day before Sunday normally not a big deal. However tomorrow is also Father's Day and my second one without my father being alive. Don't go feeling too sad, we were not close I'd met him a few times, the thing that makes it difficult is now he has no more chances and neither do I. He is gone, I can't ask all those questions I've had in my mind for years because he no longer can give me those answer's. * * * I've also been fighting my own battles with illness and depression. Feeling like I have failed not only myself but so many others. Each day it is hard getting up facing the pain, the uncomfortable feeling I have with my own body which really doesn't feel like it is mine. Lupus sucks! Sweet Syndrome also sucks. Now with all that heart ache I've put out today I think it always good to end with a different look then what I came in with. * * * I'm very lucky to have a beautiful creature, named Kamala to make me laugh and make me giggle at her complete carelessness of what anyone around her may think. I have family that I love and adore and that loves me, even when I'm crazy! (Btw that happens a lot around my age, the crazy steps in.) I love seeing all the talent everyone here has with so many different things. Crochet, Knitting, makeup, businesses, all of it we each put a little piece of ourselves in each area. Just remember, you need good friends to listen to you, crazy ones so you look more sane, and family to have a place where you belong. Try and remember to not be too busy to look around so you don't miss something so great that it alone makes you smile! * * * Hugs to my newly growing friends here you are just the most talented warm hearted friendly uplifting people I know! 😍❤😘💯🌺 * * * * * #inspiringquotes #inspirational #inspirationalquotes #dailyinspiration #dailycalm #motivationalquotes #motivation #crochetismytherapy #mymotivation #crochetistherapy #inspiration #inspiring #wordsofwisdom https://www.instagram.com/p/Byv1p68l7jW/?igshid=1pjh24iugoq1z

#inspiringquotes #inspirational #inspirationalquotes #dailyinspiration #dailycalm #motivationalquotes #motivation #crochetismytherapy #mymotivation #crochetistherapy #inspiration #inspiring #wordsofwisdom

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gigglesndimples · 7 years ago

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The Importance of Cory Booker

For the modern movement to end cannabis prohibition, Sen. Cory Booker checks off all the boxes when it comes to being an all-star.

The New Jersey Democrat, born in 1969, has lived a remarkable political arc, beginning with outstanding scholarship at Stanford University, attending Oxford University on a Rhodes scholarship and graduating from Yale Law School in 1997. A year later, Booker, not even 30, was elected to Newark’s City Council. In 2006, he became the city’s youngest-ever mayor. Booker received national media attention for the innovative and successful public policies he championed, which put him in position to win a special election for the Senate in 2013 after the death of incumbent Democrat Frank Lautenberg.

From his early days on the City Council, while addressing Newark’s then-rampant crime problems, Booker readily embraced “harm reduction” policies rather than the “arrest and lock them up” mentality long championed by police, prosecutors and prison officials. During his seven years as mayor, he worked with the Drug Policy Alliance to help Newark become a vanguard urban community.

In succeeding Lautenberg, Booker replaced the author of one of the worst and most pernicious pieces of anti-cannabis legislation ever passed by Congress: the 1991 Solomon-Lautenberg amendment (a.k.a. “Smoke a Joint, Lose Your License”), which forces states to suspend the licenses of drug convicts for six months. The law doesn’t require any proof that the offender was driving while impaired, unlike the laws regarding driving under the influence of alcohol.

Almost immediately after he was elected, Booker introduced numerous criminal-justice reform bills, notably addressing prison sentencing and racial arrest disparities. He and Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-N.Y.) sponsored the CARERS (Compassionate Access, Research Expansion and Respect States) Act in 2015, which would reschedule marijuana so states with medical programs wouldn’t have to worry about federal enforcement. It was reintroduced in June.

“Federal marijuana policy has long overstepped the boundaries of common sense, fiscal prudence and compassion,” Booker stated at the time. “This bill will help ensure that people who can benefit from medical marijuana—from children suffering from chronic illnesses to veterans battling PTSD—can do so without worrying about the federal government standing in the way.”

On Aug. 1, Booker took a more dramatic step, introducing the Marijuana Justice Act, a groundbreaking and far-reaching bill that would remove cannabis from the Controlled Substances Act, effectively “making it legal at the federal level,” according to a Senate press release. It would also “incentivize states through federal funds to change their marijuana laws if those laws were shown to have disproportionate effect on low-income individuals and/or people of color.”

The bill would also expunge federal convictions for marijuana use and possession, and prisoners serving time for a pot offense would be entitled to a resentencing hearing. Those affected by a disproportionate racial arrest or imprisonment rate would be able to sue. A Community Reinvestment Fund would be established to “reinvest in communities most affected by the War on Drugs,” for everything from re-entry programs for prisoners to public libraries.

“Our country’s drug laws are broken and need to be fixed,” Booker explained. “They don’t make our communities safe. Instead, they divert critical resources from fighting violent crimes, tear families apart, unfairly impact low-income communities and communities of color, and waste billions in taxpayers dollars each year.

“Descheduling marijuana and applying that change retroactively to people currently serving time for marijuana offenses is a necessary step in correcting this unjust system. States have so far led the way in reforming our criminal-justice system, and it’s about time the federal government catches up and begins to assert leadership.”

Regrettably, Booker’s Marijuana Justice Act has virtually no chance of passage in the Republican-controlled Congress or of being signed by a decidedly anti-marijuana President. However, the very introduction of such a profoundly anti-prohibition bill into the staid and generally conservative Senate is definitely a bellwether for future reform legislation and the eventual end of America’s 80-year-long outlawing of cannabis.

Booker says he’s a complete teetotaler. “I’ve never smoked marijuana,” he told Vice in October. “I’ve never smoked a cigarette. I’ve never eaten marijuana. I’ve never tried another drug. I’ve never drank alcohol. This, to me, is not an issue I come at through my own experimentation. I come at this as an issue of justice, as an issue of safety for our communities, as an issue of utter fairness.“This is the beginning of a journey,” he continued. “I don’t see the pathway to passage [of the Justice Act] right now. But I know that the first abolitionists that got together and started fighting for abolition didn’t see the likelihood of passage in Congress at that point. And that the first activists that started pressing for voting-rights legislation and civil-rights legislation didn’t see a pathway.

“It’s going to be a far shorter journey than many may think. Millennials in this country, Republicans and Democrats, overwhelmingly believe in legalization. So we’re getting there, and as experiments in a dozen-plus states continue to forge forward on medical marijuana, and as decriminalization and legalization begin to show more instructive ways for dealing with marijuana, I think the momentum for our movement is going to continue.”

Sen. Booker with Freedom Leaf’s Chris Thompson

NORML members got to rub shoulders with Booker and other pro-legalization Congress representatives during the organization’s Lobby Day in September. A group photo was taken, and the senator posed for plenty of selfies.

“Meeting Sen. Booker was an amazing opportunity,” says Chris Thompson, Freedom Leaf’s director of digital marketing, who attended both the NORML Conference and Lobby Day. “He was extremely genuine, listened to stories from NORML chapters around the country and explained his new legalization bill to us.

“The Senator was very gracious with his time, offering to take selfies with everyone. When it was my turn, he asked me where I was from and made jokes with me while we took the picture. Overall, it was an awesome meeting, and I’m so thankful to NORML for setting it up.”

Clearly, Sen. Booker is a favorite among legalizers across the nation. His support for the cause is a reminder of how the drug war has devastated minority communities.

“There’s no time like the present to advocate for what’s right, to advocate for justice,” he says with the faith of a true believer. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the federal government shouldn’t be in the marijuana-prohibition business.”

Cory Booker for President?

Asked on CNN in July if he would run for President in 2020, Sen. Booker commented, “I don’t know what the future’s going to bring. If I start thinking about the future like that or engaging in that stuff, I think it would make me less of a senator. I’m a guy that’s going to criticize policies that, frankly, in a lot of states that are important for presidential elections would find that very much of a threat. My loyalty is to the position I’m in right now.”

Currently, the political figures considered to have the best chances of defeating Donald Trump include Booker; fellow senators Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.), Kamala Harris (D-Calif.) and Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.); former Vice President Joe Biden; and former First Lady Michelle Obama.

The post The Importance of Cory Booker appeared first on Freedom Leaf.

Source: http://www.freedomleaf.com/the-importance-of-cory-booker/

The Importance of Cory Booker is available on https://gigglesndimples.com/

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