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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

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Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything.

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust.

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday.

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully.

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length.

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches.

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him.

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on.

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog @spacegayofficial @tiffdawg and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @just-the-hiddles @littlemissthistle @palaiasaurus64 @adorkabeezle @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions please ask to be added or released!

#pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fic #shameless smut #pedro pascal x reader #pwp

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mcheang · 5 years ago

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See Justice in red

This is another Princess Justice fic draft I write with Justice sprinkling salt on Lila, Adrien, Alya, the faculty, and even the Mayor. I may refer to Princess Justice by either Princess or Justice.

“He was the one who betrayed me! He destroyed my trust in others!”- a line I vaguely recall from Unriddle 2 finale episode

Basically when Marinette becomes an akuma, she actually gets her revenge. Princess Justice is a warrior princess with a sword of truth. She uses that sword to skewer Lila. It won’t kill her by damaging her organs or blood loss, but it will force her to spew out the truth. It’s like the lasso of truth, and the longer you are under its control, the more likely you’re going to go mad.

It’s also like Thor’s hammer, only Marinette can lift and summon it.

What surprises Hawkmoth is how many powers Princess has. With Tikki powering Princess Justice, I think she’s like the Scarlet Witch, changing probability.

When Adrien and Alya try to convince Marinette this isn’t what she wants, that this isn’t her, she demands for them to shut up. Where were they when Lila had gotten her expelled? Did they know what it was like to be accused and see your friends turn their backs on you? I mean come on, Lila said Marinette pushed her and Marinette said she didn’t. Alya had 2 friends to believe, and she chose Lila’s. And they actually thought they knew her? And Adrien knew Lila was lying and only tried to help when Marinette asked him to. Some help he had been. And what kind of friend needs to be asked to help? (I admit the recent chapter from Scarlet Fever pointed this out to me.)

Sadly or not sadly, depending on whose POV it is, Princess Justice can only punish those who were wrong on a more...um official scale.

Being a bad friend just isn’t worth her akuma’s attention, like framing a student or expelling said student with stupid proof.

So Princess Justice just ignores her class...that doesn’t mean they are spared. They are in her line of fire and she doesn’t care about casualties.

And this happens via targeting the principal for not investigating properly. His punishment would be to see his heroic dreams reversed. Dark Owl would not be a hero. He would be a villain. Oh, and apparently Justice wants to destroy the school. If there are victims inside, bonus!

When Hawkmoth tries to stop her, Princess Justice breaks free from his control, using her probability powers to affect his own. Since he is a criminal, he is vulnerable to direct attacks. Hawkmoth is laid struggling against too many emotions and is overwhelmed. He can’t respond. Catalyst can’t help him with her current powers and is then wracked with her coughing fit and collapses.

Surprisingly one of Justice’s victims is Tom Dupain, while Sabine had been angry over the injustice, Tom had escaped being akumatized and seemed to accept his Daughter was guilty. He had been resigned, Marinette had seen it in his face. Tom was a casualty as Princess wrecked the school.

The rest of the akumas go wild as Hawkmoth is no longer in control. Dark Owl goes on a crime spree. Zombizou spreads love after all this salt. Reflekta changes people’s appearances. Princess Fragrance searches for Ali.

Justice’s next target is the mayor for abusing his power. Verity Queen follows as her backup.

Master Fu sees the news onscreen and goes to give out the Miraculous. Once the akumatized object has been destroyed, Marinette and Tikki will be free to transform and purify the akuma.

Princess Justice doesn’t target Fu because she feels he has faced punishment already. She doesn’t hate him like she hates the mayor.

The heroes assemble but fail in stopping Princess without their leader. and this is with them being defeated by indirect attacks and her without her primary weapon! (The Mayor was its latest victim.) It doesn’t help that most of the heroes had been indirectly injured in Justice’s rampage about the school.

Princess Justice collects all their Miraculous, sneering when she spots Adrien. Oh the irony. And she actually used to have a crush on him! Unbelievable.

Fu decides to pull his final ace. He goes to find young Alix. She is happy to get a Miraculous in spite of all the terror she faces.

Bunnyx is summoned and is advised not to go too far back or the future may still be lost.

The night before Lila’s accusation. Bunnyx visits Adrien while asleep and actually slaps him hard. She had heard that he knew Lila was lying and that he let her continue to lie to all of them. Alix sort of blames him too.

Seeing Plagg on the pillow, Alix learns his true identity.

Anyway, Bunnyx warns Adrien to expose Lila or doomsday will come next morning.

She also scolds him for letting Lila manipulate his friends like that. She also advises to actually be there for his friends instead of waiting to be noticed.

Adrien is stunned. What just happened?

Bunnyx returns to her home where her past self is sleeping. She finds the old watch and unifies both Miraculous together. Now the Alix sleeping has all of Bunnyx’s memories. And Bunnyx herself has vanished.

The next day, Adrien confesses the truth to his friends. Alix herself apologizes for not believing Marinette and promises to always be there for her.

When Marinette is accused of cheating, Adrien defends her and Alix points out that the answer sheet was only stolen after the test was taken.

Bustier’s accusation falls flat. She is embarrassed.

Lila isn’t about to give up though. She claims Marinette stole her necklace and she can prove it because she saw it in Marinette’s locker.

However, Alix points out again that the lockers are unlocked and that someone could be framing Marinette. The class isn’t sympathetic to Lila’s plight.

Realising that Alix has credibility since she is a neutral party and is willing to fight, Lila unhappily backs down. She hasn’t yet realized that Adrien exposed her and the class doesn’t trust her anymore.

Later during lunch, Alix joins Marinette for lunch and advises her to think beyond her crush for Adrien, and not to let him be the center of her life. Alix admires Marinette for standing up for truth and justice and hated seeing Marinette lowered when she obsesses over Adrien. She needs to see him clearly as a person and not someone on a pedestal. Her words strike Marinette deeply and make her thoughtful.

Adrien then talks to Alix alone. Adrien asks if she remembers anything from yesterday that was strange.

Alix crosses her arms. “Like when I slapped you awake, kitty?”

Adrien pales and begs her not to tell. Alix shrugs him off. “I won’t tell. I’m good at keeping secrets, like you apparently.”

Adrien flushes and apologizes again. Alix holds up a hand to shut him up. “We all make mistakes. I personally blame your silent act on your lousy dad. But try to think beyond the Lila’s and Chloe’s of the world and think how we have to put up with them because you keep letting them get away. And right now, you’re only acting up because I told you to. But Marinette deserves a better Friend than someone holding her down.” And then Alix storms off. Adrien is left alone feeling guilty.

Fu notices the missing Miraculous but encounters a young Alix who tells him the truth. Since it is a family heirloom, he lets her keep it. Reminding her to only use it when all hope is lost.

From that point on, Marinette tries to see Adrien differently and gently corrects him when he makes mistakes. Alix becomes her new BFF. Caline and Damocles undergo inspection when the school board receives an anonymous call saying their faculty is inefficient and biased. Adrien learns to stand up for himself, to tell Lila to back off, and sincerely apologizes to Marinette again. Alix is there, skeptical and there to ground Marinette. Alix and Adrien are friends but Adrien has to prove himself before Alix can really forgive him. He does so by using his civilian self as a shield for Marinette and Alix whenever Chloe or Lila attacks them. He actually stands up to his Father at personal risk, when Gabriel insinuates that his friends are a horrible influence, refusing to be shut down.

Now that Lila has been exposed, Gabriel fires her.

My salt for Adrien and Aly has been reignited today. Sure they defended Marinette in Despair Bear and tried to get her back into school. But couldn’t they have been more vocal when was being accused in the locker room? Alya was ignorant of Lila’s nature but Adrien was aware of it.

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d33rbutch · 4 years ago

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Battlefield

Linktober 16th

Summary- Warriors reflects on the war and how it has changed him.

Notes- This goes with yesterdays art. I hope its good :) Also! i now have an Ao3 account! I will start posting some of my fics over there! (all my fics will be here on tumblr so be sure to follow ;))

...

The boys had landed themselves in Warriors Hyrule, and luckily, right inside the castle. The Links had been set up with rooms and meals, but Warriors still felt something deeply unsettling inside him. He walked around the cold empty castle. He walked alone, getting some much needed solitude. He walked out the front gates and onto Hyrule Field. He looked around. Blood from both soldiers and monsters still stained the concrete and stone. He closed his eyes as memories drew themselves to the front of his mind.

He really always knew that the war would change him. He can barely remember the bright eyed boy who ran into battle the very first day. He wasn’t meant to do this yet he had thought to himself. He was still in training, it wasn’t his place, but he did it anyway. In a way, he’s glad he did. His recklessness had saved many lives, but what had it meant for him?

He had PTSD from the battles, he knew that. He would wake up in a cold sweat, usually frightening whoever was on watch. He usually brushed off any questions about his nightmares, not wanting to let out all his trauma. He knew he had friends he could confide in. Timefought along side him, and Wild has fought battle of his own, but he handled his terrors alone.

The boy that walked into war the first day was so different. When he first went back to his old friends after the war ended, they hardly recognized him. His hair was longer and he was taller, but the real change was in his attitude. He became more snarky, and more of a leader. He was cocky and he held himself higher than he did before. He started keeping his hair nice, and his clothes clean. He carried his sword with him wherever he went and it was always polished. He became posh and high classs. He became everything he once despised.

What did he have to show for it? Friends who didn’t like how he changed? A job that put him above his rank? A family that he had to leave behind? A new group of friends who looked at him weird due to his class and job? No. He had none of that. His friends didn’t care how he changed, it was his fate to be in this rank, his family stayed close, and his new group would love him no matter what job he had. He had scars, more emotional than physical, but painful nonetheless.

He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged his hands down his face. He sighed into the cold air of the evening, and adjusted his scarf. He should go back to his group. They were inside, sitting in warm beds and eating great food. They were all happy because his rank allowed I’m to put them in that position, and for that he was thankful.

He had seen so many things in his life, and many of them were cruel and terrible. He carried these things with him. He had also seen many wonderful sights, Zelda, fighting valiantly in the war, an effortless grace as she took out monster after monster, he saw people recover after the war and he saw communities grow. The world was ever changing and it was a wonderful sight, but his favorite thing to see was the way that Wild’s face lit up when they walked through the halls of the castle,and the way that Twilight smiled fondly at the boy, and the way that Time smiled fondly at Impa, and the way she treated him as an old friend, the way Legend was silently impressed and smirked as he teased him, the way that Wind and Four waved to everyone, and the way that Hyrule hesitantly joined in, and the way that sky smiled at the portrait of Fi in the great hall. His favorite thing was his new friends, his brothers.

#linked universe #linked universe warriors #hyrule warriors #linktober

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houseofhurricane · 3 years ago

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (7/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: There's a scene between Tamlin and Elain in this chapter that I really enjoyed writing... and also, this is the chapter where Things Start Happening. I hope you enjoy -- thank you for reading! ❤️

This morning, Elain had decided she was going to get information out of Tamlin even if she had to provoke him. After six weeks in the Spring Court and a month under Vassa’s tutelage, she’s had little more than small talk and some slightly awkward conversations with the High Lord. His remarks to Lucien over the dinner table are still strained, arranging visits to the villages but never the Spring Court borders, never anything of substance.

Yesterday, on her weekly visit, Mor had asked if there was any new information, and when Elain shook her head and forced a shamefaced little blush, the look on Mor’s face had shaken her. Mor hadn’t been disappointed. It was as if she’d always expected Elain to fail to gather the necessary information, even with her pretty speech about how Elain had the makings of a spy. Elain isn’t sure if this kind of look would have bothered her even a week earlier. She might have been happy at the possibility of giving up. Yesterday, though, she’d felt the acid inside her, the writhing wrongness that had plagued her in the Night Court, that feeling of being useless and unwanted. Even if the vision had been a lie. There were still valid reasons to talk to Tamlin, not least of which involved finding out why Elain would use the crown to compel him to her side.

Most nights, after Vassa has gone to Lucien, she studies the remnants of the vision. She’s brought herself, finally, to study her own expression, and the serene confidence on her face is startling, both because it’s foreign to her mirror, but also because that look seems to be the exact replica of the feeling inside her as she grasps Vassa’s lessons. Often she is reaching for queenliness, that stately assurance, but when it’s hers, just for a second, there’s a brightness inside her, the feeling that she is finally correct. It scares her and it doesn’t, which scares her even more, that she might still be on this path, that her best self could be a monster.

What Elain would never tell anybody, more secret than whatever lurks inside her, is what she thinks when she looks at Tamlin. The beauty of him. Now that she’s been around him in his own home, she recognizes a certain look, the controlled wildness of him, and while that sense is further muted by the Crown in her vision, she still studies the strain in his muscles, his shoulders and his thighs. She watches him try to fight the influence until all she wants is to rescue Tamlin from her future self, reach through the vision and pluck him from that dreary throne.

Last night she fell asleep contemplating the scene, the teeth of uselessness sinking deep inside her, so that when she woke up this morning, Elain was determined to get Tamlin to divulge something, anything that might help her follow a better path. If she were able to glean some information that the Night Court could use, so much the better.

She’d gotten up early, let Melis arrange her hair in waves clipped loosely and threaded through with fresh gardenias, put her in a day dress that’s nicer than the ones she uses for real gardening, white silk embroidered with some magicked thread that gives it a pearly iridescence, so that she’ll shimmer in sunlight. When she looks in the mirror, Elain looks too radiant to be threatening. Beauty is a weapon, Vassa keeps telling her.

When she descended the stairs for breakfast, she watched Tamlin walk through the front door of his estate, into the gardens. Elain’s stomach grumbled but as she watched him make a beeline for the trees, she’d only hesitated for a moment before she followed him.

Now Elain is sure that something is watching her behind the largest, farthest tree. She has no idea how Feyre wandered these woods alone, as human or High Fae, and feels the habitual guilt rise in her, intermingling with the fear that roils her gut and tightens her shoulders. The gardens aren’t so far behind her. She could still turn around.

She breathes deep and reminds herself that she’s looking for the most frightening monster in these woods. And surely, if Tamlin were near, he would come to her defense, so long as she screamed loud enough. If Azriel kissing her would be enough to create a political scandal, surely her death must be prevented.

Instead of imagining the monsters in the woods or those last furtive moments with Azriel, Elain focuses on silencing her steps. The process is easier in her High Fae body, but her slippers still seem to be drawn to the twigs that crackle most under her tread. She’d spotted Tamlin crossing the grounds and she’d followed him moments later, leaving her trowel and gloves behind. He can’t have gotten too far, even with all the training of his warrior life.

Ahead, the sunlight goes molten gold, and Elain follows the light into the clearing ahead. Her breath is harsh in her throat and she would like a moment to rest, to believe that whatever lurks in these woods would have the good sense to avoid exposure.

Instead, she steps right in front of a golden beast, fangs and horns and talons and a ferocious expression on its face, so that Elain is screaming before she realizes she’s seen those green eyes many times before.

When Tamlin’s hand covers her mouth, she’s surprised to feel his fingers on her lips. Seconds ago, they’d ended in claws. She’s never seen him in this form before, not that she can remember.

“Why would you wander in these woods?” His voice still belongs to the beast, a ragged snarl.

Elain presses her fingers to his wrist, moves his hand enough to speak.

“I was looking for you.” His fingers are on her cheek now. She can feel the callouses against her skin.

“There are terrible creatures who roam these forests. Do you have an urgent message from your High Lord?”

Elain’s mind whirls for a good reason. The only urgency truly at play is her own curiosity about her own future and how it intertwines with Tamlin. How she might prevent her vision from being her actual life.

Despite everything she’s learning, her first idea is to feign a crush, her old strategy in ballrooms. But she’s tired of being a pretty toy that men consider only in relation to marriage or lust. Maybe she’s listened at enough doorways and dinners to politick a little.

“There was a question,” she says, careful of her phrasing and trying for the tone that Vassa has recommended, relaxing her throat and not allowing her voice to rise with question or with hesitation, “about the security you’re providing at the border with the human lands. Whether another court will be able to break through and terrorize the humans.”

“Has Lucien started whispering in your ear? I thought you couldn’t stand to look him in the eye.” Again, the words are growled, ominous.

But instead of shrinking or collapsing, Elain feels herself smirking, the expression foreign and thrilling. She hopes he can read the expression with his fingers. Whatever the implications. Something in her feels wild and free as it never has before.

“This is an obvious problem,” she says. “Even I know that Beron will never agree to remain in his territory.”

“Your sister destroyed my peoples’ confidence in me. I cannot raise an army.”

It’s the way he won’t say Feyre’s name that snaps something in Elain, makes her feel truly fierce. However she might feel about the Night Court, Feyre is her sister, and Elain’s betrayed her too many times already.

“I thought you were skulking in the woods instead of building it back.” He’s quiet and instead of letting him snap back at her, she adds, “My sister destroyed nothing that wasn’t already rotten.”

“Why did you allow yourself to be sent here, then?”

There isn’t an answer that won’t get her thrown out, she thinks. He’d never allow her to stay if she knew her vision. He’s mad already, and though Elain knows Tamlin’s temper is dangerous, he might let something slip if she provokes him.

“Why did you allow another Archeron sister in your house?”

“Your High Lord did not allow me much choice.”

“You seemed willing enough,” she says, trying to muster the kind of confidence that blooms in Nesta. “I think perhaps you were lonely in these woods. That if I were here, Lucien would follow.”

“There’s an obscene amount of confidence in your family’s blood.”

It occurs to Elain, all in a rush, that if Tamlin were truly angry, he would be a beast, all roar and claws, and instead he stands tall, his body so close she can feel the heat of it, the subtle movements as he draws breath. She’s felt that hunger, for the warmth of another body, and the longing frightens her with its ferocity.

So instead of pursuing the argument they’ve been having, trying to stir him to a rage that will make him careless, she asks, “Why do you prowl these lands as a beast?”

Elain feels him go still, trying to sense what provoked the question.

“I am stronger in that form,” he says, finally.

“You’re High Lord of your court. Certainly you are more powerful than anything that roams these lands. If you could--” She’s about to say, if you could guard this forest when Amarntha ruled, but she’s not sure what that phrase would stir up. “Why are you afraid of being seen?”

He snarls but she stands firm. He cannot harm her; her sisters would destroy him in a blink. Anyway, she’s seen the future, and however horrible it may be, they’re both alive inside it.

She looks at him, braced for action, the only enemy her question, and Elain sees his eyes are dull and she sees the shadows under his eyes, the stubble on his chin, his weariness evident. Slowly, the snarl turns hollow.

“You know the things I’ve done,” he says, ducking his head so that she can no longer meet his gaze.

“Is that what you’ve decided to become, then? The blind and stupid beast?”

No bird sings into the silence between them. Even the leaves go still on their branches.

“They won’t even look at me in the village.”

“My fiancé--”

“You will not compare my people to a worthless human man who could not see your radiance.”

“All I was supposed to do with my life was marry well,” she says, hoping she’s not blushing at the barest hint of a compliment. “Don’t presume to know what’s harmed me, or its significance. What you took from me.”

At the last, he turns away from her, towards the deeper darkness of the forest, and Elain knows that if she allows him to slink away, he’ll never tell her anything. If he delves further into that darkness, she will have to follow him, compelled and compelling him until her vision comes true.

She darts forward, circles his wrist with her fingers. Looks right into his eyes so he’ll see the truth she’s offering, the secret known by a quantity of people she can count on her fingers.

“I see things, sometimes,” she says, her fingers braced against the bones of his wrist. “Futures that could be. If I try, they can be avoided.”

“Why did Rhysand send you here?”

If he had growled the words, she would have run toward the gardens. Instead Tamlin keeps his voice level, his green eyes on hers, steady as a leaf in late spring, confident of warmth and sun.

“I had a vision and you were in it.”

“What will I do?”

The thready whisper of his voice cracks something inside Elain. She’s about to tell him the truth, confess the lie, but he misreads the hesitation on her face.

“No doubt your High Lord bound you to secrecy. He thinks I’ll fulfill your prophecy sooner if I’m told.” His voice rises, angry.

“It’s both of us. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I was sent.”

He stares at her.

“What terrible thing will you do, Elain Archeron?”

She can feel her courage guttering within her. She could not admit the truth even to her sisters, even to Nesta, who would have ripped apart the world rather than let an unkind hand so much as brush against her skin.

“I’m trying to figure that out.” She swallows, gulping air. “How I’ll become a monster.”

His fingers reach for hers, and Elain realizes she’s never let go of his wrist. If he’d run into the woods she would have held on tighter, until he dragged her through the underbrush. Not even because she believed he’d reveal anything to her, if she’s being very honest. She would have held on until she could have revealed a bit more of her secret, the horrible being that lurks inside her skin.

“It’s easy to become a monster,” Tamlin tells her, once she forces herself to meet his eyes again. Slowly, one finger at a time, he releases her hand from his grip. “Becoming good again is what seems to me to be the impossibility.”

If he’d told her she was good, she would never have believed him. Instead, Elain gives a dazed nod.

“You have to keep going to the village,” she says. “Your people want to believe there is goodness inside you.”

This time, when Tamlin turns to the forest depths, Elain lets go of him and lets him vanish between the trees. Perhaps there is no saving either of them.

When Elain arrives in the kitchen, very late for breakfast, there’s an egg and scallion dish, still warm from the oven, which the cook offers her. He looks High Fae until Elain takes a closer look and sees the webbing between his fingers, the pupils which are shaped like leaves. When she asks, the cook will not tell his name, only that he prefers to be called Cook, and though Elain supposes this is not an invitation to further conversation, they pass a cheery hour as he complains and jokes about his preparations for this evening’s dinner. Elain almost managers to forget the conversation in the forest.

Eventually the food is gone, including the new cherries from the village which Cook insisted she sample, and there is kitchen business that requires focus, and Elain realizes she has no excuse to not be in the garden. Everyone would know that something was wrong if she did not make an appearance in some flowerbed.

She’s just picked up her gloves when she hears Feyre’s voice, looks around the room wildly before reminding herself that this is one of her sister’s new abilities.

I miss you, her sister says. Mor said she thinks you’re having a hard time. Do you want to come home?

I don’t know, Elain tells her, checking her mental shields to ensure Feyre can’t see this morning’s argument. Everything here is different than I expected. I think Mor thought I would be a better spy.

Even Lucien struggles with Tamlin. Mor can winnow you back for a short visit. There’s a new bakery I think you’d like.

Send me a selection the next time Mor visits.

There’s a silence, and Elain knows that Feyre is looking for a delicate way to ask her sister why she doesn’t want to be with her family at the Night Court, and Elain herself is building an additional mental shield around her conversation with Tamlin this morning, the knot of feelings and frustrations she doesn’t want to untangle anytime soon. She reaches for her gardening hat and jams it on her head, wishing for the thousandth time that she could design a hat that would better accommodate her ears without sacrificing any aspect of the crown or brim.

How do you like Vassa? Feyre finally asks, the lightness in the question a little forced.

She makes me scared of Koschei, that he could lock her up. I think Vassa could take over Prythian if she wanted. She’s teaching me about diplomacy.

I’m glad you have a friend, Feyre says, and sounds so relieved that Elain feels guilty again. She’d never tell Feyre how often she inspires that feeling. Elain deserves the shame. And how is Lucien?

I don’t see him very much. Technically this is not a lie. He usually leaves with Vassa in the morning, unless he has an errand with Tamlin. He’s perfectly pleasant at dinner.

He’s not--?

He’s perfectly pleasant.

It’s only that I thought he would want to protect you from Tamlin.

I don’t see Tamlin very much, either. I think the noise from the builders upsets him. Again, this is technically true. Tamlin likes Laella well enough, but he’s generally out of the estate by the time the noise begins, and on the rare occasions that construction has extended through dinner, she’s watched his jaw clench with every bang and clatter.

We can send Azriel, Feyre says, sweet and hesitant. Or maybe Nuala and Cerridwan can join you?

I have a maid, and Tamlin is very curious as to why three of us were sent already. I’ll visit when I have more information, I promise.

You’re sure you’re all right there? Nesta has been asking to visit but we’re not sure it’s the right time, given everything.

Even after everything, they still treat Nesta like an ill-timed explosion waiting to happen. Not that Nesta hasn’t had her awful moments, not that her powers, even depleted, aren’t fearsome, but Elain has always found her fury understandable, even deserved. It’s why those barbs hurt so much when they were pointed squarely at Elain.

Tell Nesta I miss her and that no one has laid a hand on me.

By the time she’s said goodbye to Feyre, Elain is in the middle of the garden, wondering if the lilacs could do with pruning. It’s difficult to judge with the flowers perpetually in bloom, and Elain has always preferred gardens with a hint of wildness, not those precise topiaries she hears were the fashion in the continental courts.

In the end, she spends the rest of the day wandering the garden, assessing and finding everything perfectly in place. Any visitor would be greeted by flowers of all colors, arranged to complement each other, would breathe in the sweet fragrances and want to linger on the new benches. Laella has asked Elain to consult on the interior gardens, but in a few weeks, when those are completed, there will hardly be any work for Elain, unless she decides on some silly reorganization to keep her busy.

In a few weeks, she will have no excuse to stay, and these gardens will be wasted on Tamlin, who seems to want to lurk in the woods until his court is in ruins.

Just thinking of the garden trampled is enough to keep Elain there until the sun dips beyond the horizon. She stays hidden on a bench until she’s sure that dinner is well underway, then sneaks up to her room.

Melis is waiting at the door to Elain’s closet, yellow silk beneath her fingers. When she sees Elain, her eyes are startled.

“I was about to sound the alarm for you,” she says, letting the hem of the dress fall to the ground.

“I’d like to have dinner in my room tonight,” Elain tells her, pulling the hat from her head, the gardenias from her hair. Even crushed by the day, their fragrance lingers.

“What happened?”

“I had an... encounter with Tamlin. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

“If he hurt you--” Melis starts, but there’s no real threat in her voice, only worry.

“Nothing like that. Only an argument. Can you help me with these buttons?”

Elain splays her fingers on the desk, studying the lines of dirt that demarcate her fingernails. She’ll take a long bath tonight, really scrub until her fingers are totally clean.

Melis hasn’t left her post.

“Are you all right?” Elain asks, not turning to look at the maid, looking instead at the gardenias, the crushed petals already veined with brown. Later, she will regret this.

She hears Melis’ footsteps, soft against the thick carpet, but just when Elain expects to feel her fingers on the buttons of her dress, there’s a pressure on her throat, a rush of bright pain, a warmth pooling at her collarbone.

Blood.

“I need you to come with me,” Melis says, and her voice is buzzing, frantic, and Elain thinks only, I thought whoever killed me would be more sure of themselves.

“I’m not going with you,” she says, loud as she can, trying to reproduce the assured tone Vassa would applaud despite the pain which does not ebb, and still Elain is reaching for the knife at her neck, but Melis grabs her wrists and wrenches Elain backward, bending her nearly to the floor.

The knife presses in deeper. Any further and her throat will be cut. The blood is already flowing down her body, staining the white fabric of her dress.

“Let go of me.” Elain tries to scream the words, but Melis moves the knife back and forth and the scream turns into a whimper. Once again, she is helpless. She is bait.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll know when we get there,” Melis says, and she squeezes Elain’s wrists harder, and as the winnowing begins, the great winds between everyplace summoned by Melis’ magic, there’s a rent in the fabric of the world, a ripping noise as Melis pulls Elain, and as the bright room disappears into darkness, there’s a thump on the carpet, a thousand whispers emerging out of nowhere, but there are no voices and she’s in the dark with Melis, the knife still on her neck, and then Elain is gone.

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spliinkles · 6 years ago

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Overzealous

Kind of a continuation from yesterdays fic?

Context- I'm using the headcannon that Wild can be possessed by the other Champion's when he's either under too much stress or unconscious. Another headcannon I made with someone on the discord to add to this is that when activating the Champion's power, not only is the power enhanced, but also a projection of the user of the power can be seen over Wild's body (as you'll see below ;)) aGAIN ANOTHER SELF INDULGENT FIC WOOHOO

Au belongs to Jojo | linkeduniverse

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"What did you do?!" Legend seethed at Warriors who in return coughed, looking away with a look of guilt. He stared ahead, ignoring the pointed glare that was facing him until Legend repeated the question, punching Warrior's arm as if to keep his attention.

Warriors looked down with a grimace, "I don't know, ok? I was practicing with my bow with Wild and I asked him for pointers- long story short, that bird-thing- Rito I think? Whoever is possessing him has kept up his speech for the last six minutes and he doesn't look to be stopping." Legend cursed at the words, "Of course it was you who did it." Warriors scoffed, offended, yet Legend turned, watching the scene unfold.

Before them stood Wild, or, what appears to be Wild with a lack of his, per say, spirit, where the embodiment of 'annoying' now possessed.

From what the others knew, the spirits name was Revali- the apparent official 'greatest archer of all of Hyrule' and everyone's collective unofficial 'pain in the head'. He was, in the least, a proud, flamboyant and 'sophisticated' individual with a love for archery- and a seemingly obvious dislike for Wild.

The two watched the Hylian, who stood straight and proud, something so unlike Wild.

"And honestly, if I knew you Hylian's were open to critique as you oh so generously asked, I would've showed up much sooner, trust me."

That's right, Legend thought, This is the first time this spirit has shown up. Legend mulled over that thought for a second, before narrowing his eyes. He decided that he didn't like this character inhabiting Wild.

Besides Legend, both Twilight and Time -all three in which had just arrived back from gathering items for that night's dinner- stood several metres from the overzealous Hylian, indescribable expression plastered on their faces.

Everyone except Revali was still.

Revali was quick to notice, rolling Wild's eyes with a disgusted groan, "Please, you all know about us, it was only a matter of time before my presence graced you." He took a second to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild's belt, albeit a little sloppily as he cursed out at Hylian's anatomy.

Everyone watched as he swiped through it.

Twilight stepped forward frowning, "Hey, what-" he didn't get any further however as the knights bow in wild's hand disintegrated in a fine, glowing blue light before being replaced by a bow much more intricately crafted- Wild's mouth tilted into one of satisfaction, and a handful of those watching couldn't help but to think how un-natural the look was on him.

Revali re-latched the slate, using both hands to hold the well-made bow. He took a couple moments to fiddle with it, checking over finer details of the weapon. By now, Four and Wind had taken this opportunity to approach Wild, unnoticed by the spirit inhabiting the Hylian. They peered over his shoulder, marvelling at the bow, "Do you like this bow a lot?" A sound only descried a squawk left Wild's throat, the spirit jumping slightly as he whipped around, bow nearly smashing into Wind's face had it not been for Time's quick reflexes to drag the boy back. Revali glared at the boy, "Insufferable as Link and twice as small- just my luck." he stated, bringing the bow closer to him, "And this? Of course I like this bow, I was the one to wield it before Link- better yet," he smirked, "I was the one to create it."

Silence.

"Oh, ok." Wind shrugged.

Revali blinked.

"'Oh, ok?' That's it?" several people peered at each other before Four spoke up, "Well, I mean it isn't that special, I smithed most of my weapons myself." several others piped up, confirming this. Revali stilled, owlishly blinked once more, "No." he then stated.

Time could immediately feel a sense of dread travel down his back- he paused, watching Revali's movements, however small they are before tightening his mouth, "It isn't that big of a deal-" "OH please, save your breath." Wild's eyes rolled once more, "to smith a sword is nothing but child's play, now, a bow? This is where skill takes place." Four narrowed his eyes, letting out a scoff of offense, "Are you saying my skills are nothing but rubbish?" Wild eyes glanced at Four, shrugging, "Not saying they're anything spectacular." Four threw his arms up, "Nope! Not doing this today guys." he marched away, Wind quickly following.

"Hm, for a supposed hero he sure has a quick temper." Revali stated, ignoring the pointed glares meeting his figure, "anyway," he turned to Warriors, the man letting an 'oh god' whisper out, much to Legend's amusement, "you wish to learn proper techniques, yes?" Warriors shook his head, "No, I think I-" "Perfect! I'm glad you agree, I've been watching you all through Link and quite frankly, there's much room for improvement for…" Revali paused, glancing around at the others before humming, "well, let's say practice would make for much better improvements, you see?" "Twenty rupees and I'll punch him." Legend whispered. Immediately, Warriors choked on his breath, a hand landing on Legend's shoulders as he tried to contain his laughter. Legend glanced at Warriors, before looking back at the Hylian, "You're right, I'll do it for free." before attempting his attack however, Time stepped forward, "Look… wait what's your name?" Revali repeated his title, just as proud as the first time, "Revali, as much as we would… appreciate the help, we would rather Wild if anything, considering…" Revali sneered, "Considering I'm dead?"

Words died out of Time's throat as everything fell silent.

"Oh god no," Legend then started snapping everyone's attention to him, "Look, if your annoying personality can stick after a century, I'm sure your skills with archery are still there- just because you're dead, it won't change anything. Time's only saying this because we're more comfortable around Wild." Wild's face sneered at Legend, yet he kept quiet, mulling over the words. He then narrowed his eyes, "But I am him- just with more poise." he gestured to his posture with a smile, waving Legend's look of disbelief off, "none of that, I came to teach and teach I shall! Where are your arrows?!" he started to scour the area as others denied, "We don't have that many left!" "Then this will be worth the loss of some extra rupees." Revali merely replied with, finding his targeted ammunition within one of Wild's pouches. He heaved the pouch over his shoulders with ease.

"This is a waste of arrows- we might need those!" Twilight stated, walking to Wild with a stern glare, "look, bird brains, I'm usually all for some fun, but not with supplies that are already low." Revali rolled his eyes, "don't worry, Link's thinking of taking you to his house," confused looks met his, "What, he hasn't told you? Ugh, of course not, the imbecilic. Don't worry, your supplies will be filled soon enough." He nocked an arrow, testing the string before drawing the arrow out. "Hold up, wait, this is going way too fast-" "Good." "No, not good! Wait what are you-"

A gust so powerful it ripped through the entire camp- bed rolls went flying, as well as personal belongings and the newly acquired food. Yet all eyes were on Wild.

Or on Revali, more specifically.

Wild's body had lit up in a spectacular green, yet his body wasn't the main focus, no, the main focus was solely on the green outline of a Rito that engulfed around Wild, as if he was a projection. Green flames littered around them, dancing in the wind that had everyone holding their ground to stop from being blown away themselves.

The view was ineffable.

Even Revali was surprised, looking down at his feathers that moved alongside Wild's arms. The bow itself now lodged between Revali's outline, rather than the Hylian's hands. A twist in his gut, a jolt of realisation- whatever had happened let him interact with his bow- let him feel the object once more, just has he once had. Revali blinked, eyes adjusting upwards, into the oblivion that was the sky.

He had a plan.

The wind died down barely, enough for Revali's voice to be picked up, "Prepare to see a show of a life time!" Then, he shot upwards, into the heavens.

Hearts jumped into their throats watching the projection of Revali from Wild's body soar above them, the wind tormenting the plains around them once more as a gust even stronger than last time shot through them- Wind and Four, although several feet further away, both fell.

The elegance of the way Revali moved in the air almost had everyone in awe, yet Twilight was the first to notice it.

"Wild doesn’t have his paraglider on him!" eyes wide, mouth agape, they watched Revali twist and turn, flying himself higher and higher- until the inevitable fall. Twilight felt his stomach drop, "Oh god no." And then they fell.

Down and down, they fell further; then even faster. The momentum dragging their very beings towards the ever-growing ground. Mere seconds seemed to drag onto minutes for those watching, tormenting them- in the blink of an eye, Revali raised his wings, praying to Hylia- to anyone who'd listen that this would work.

Then, Revali flew.

He felt the wind through his wings, the updraft curving his decent until he himself soared high.

The others on the ground collectively sighed in relief.

Deep within Revali's mind, he could feel the excitement pouring from Wild- Revali laughed, twisting and turning in the sky, feeling as alive as a dead spirit could be, "I have MISSED this!" he exclaimed, diving once more. Then, he saw it- the targets.

And judging by the fire burning from within, he knew Wild did too.

Revali smirked

He had a performance to do.

He dove once more, yet with no intent to stop. His wings tucked in, body lowering as far as it could until the momentum built up enough for him to feel the frigid cold air wisp by like a dream.

"…Ti… e it… " Revali paused for a second, yet still descending, "time it!" Wild yelled again, clearer; the excitement gushing out of him and Revali did so, whipping out his bow and watched wide eyed as a power so strong and so pure engulfed him.

Everything stilled.

No, he thought, watching his descension drift further down ever so slowly, not frozen, yet-

From within, he felt Wild laugh.

"Oh."

He could've laughed, yet instead he aimed his bow, all five arrows nocked.

He shot.

"So this is how you managed to nearly best me, you twerp!"

To the others, they watched in awe as Revali, in a mere second shot the targets, all five, with no effort, hitting each one simultaneously without missing a beat; all bulls-eyes.

Seconds later Revali landed, the outline dissipating quick enough.

Twilight, Sky and Warriors swarmed Wild, who now blinked owlishly- Wild was back. "Hey- are you ok?" Twilight asked, putting a hand on his shoulders. Wild blinked back, before a large smile grew on his face, a small bubbly laugh leaving him. "Holy shit, he's lost it." Legend exclaimed. Sky looked between the two in confusion.

Abruptly, Wild stopped laughing, the smile falling.

Everyone watched him.

His face, once a healthy tone turned pale- Twilight knew exactly what was about to happen. "To the bush!" He shouted, pushing Wild as the Hylian heaved. Quick enough, just as they reached the bush, Wild vomited.

Warriors made a disgusted sound, yet Legend merely elbowed him.

Time's eyes met Twilight's and the elder only rubbed his temples before leaving to go pick up everything that had flew away, passing Hyrule as he helped Four and Wind up from the ground.

Twilight himself just rubbing Wild's back, wondering how he's still alive with Wild's antics.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #spliinkles writes #fanfic #legend of zelda #loz #link #revali

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exyjunkies · 6 years ago

Note

pls continue the did andreil fic :)

that smiley tho… are y’all mad at me lmao anyway SINCE I’M FEELING IT TODAY!!! here’s part four. a long-ish entry yay

a/n: i’m not going to continue this on the blog anytime soon, but hopefully i’ll do a complete rewrite (with the parts already up on tumblr worked into it) and upload a beast of a fic on my ao3 hehe just tell me if you guys would like that!

i’m also about to hit 1.3k followers on this blog so thank you thank you thank you all so much for sticking around, i love you guys!

part one | part two | part three

Neil hated coming back to himself.

Or that’s what Andrew seemed to see, judging from his view outside the hospital room. That’s all he saw, anyway, before the doctors had to block his way and send him away.

Ever since Natha/Neil got to the hospital, the doctors have had a hard enough time keeping Andrew out of the room whenever there was an episode, and Andrew has had a hard enough time trying to explain himself along with the fact that he was their best shot at keeping Natha/Neil down. Well, as well-behaved as he could manage himself to be.

Instead, Andrew made himself comfortable a floor below, beside the vending machine. He’s mastered the art of ignoring the innocents that went up to the machine and purchased consumables enough for their visit. Undoubtedly, they’ve all heard of Neil’s case - famous Exy player plus identity crisis plus teammate with anger issues for a boyfriend? Who wouldn’t be intrigued?

Long gone were the days that a bunch of homophobic assholes was Andrew’s biggest problem. He now had to deal with the judgement that came from hospital regulars, families who knew of the Foxes and didn’t equate them to sickly or dying or damaged.

For all they knew, Andrew supposed he couldn’t expect some shitheads to ever understand, so he just kept it in. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was having an easier time to deal with the situation.

A book landed with a thud on a seat two seats away from Andrew. A Place of Greater Safety, the hardcover book shouted at Andrew. Kevin sat down on Andrew’s left, setting his coffee on top of his book and handing Andrew his.

“Did they say anything?” Andrew grumbled, not looking up from his Rubiks cube. He twisted the sides around, the algorithm making the insides of his head whir. The 3x3 toy was one of the few things that helped keep him at bay. His eidetic memory was both a blessing and a curse - he remembered the day Neil got it for him, as if it were just yesterday.

Here, Andrew, catch. The plastic cube had just barely reached Andrew’s hands. Neil had stifled a laugh at Andrew’s blinks.

What is this, Josten? He replied, sitting up and turning it around. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the damned contraption before - just that it never occurred to him that it would be this complicated. The unmatched sides and edges seemed to be mocking him. The cube had been shuffled. The bright colors made Andrew’s head pound. A lot, Andrew had noted, like Neil did.

Something a lot less complicated than the both of us are. Thought you’d like it.

This is lame, Andrew had answered back, annoyance apparent in his tone.

A few hours later, he was busy frowning at Neil’s smirk — the cube solved and on the bed. Mentally, he had registered 764% as he left the room and slammed the door shut.

“Doctors are keeping their mouth shut,” Kevin replied, sipping from his coffee cup and making a grimace. “Something about security purposes. Damn. Just because Neil’s a Fox—”

Andrew moved the top layer on his cube with his pinky. “Wasting my time is not enjoyable, Day.”

Wrinkling his nose, Kevin reached for his coffee and book. “I’m not happy either, don’t worry.” He grabbed his book and replaced it with his coffee, leaning forward as he began to read.

The second layer on Andrew’s cube was close to being solved. Up. Right. Up again. Back down. Middle layer back right.

Briefly, he registered the television above them, a weather program on the screen.

“We’re seeing some rainy skies today, folks,” the weatherman said. Behind him was a chart explaining the temperatures for today and the next few days. A map of America was shaded in different colors.

A man in a white doctors’ coat appeared around their corner and seemed to be looking for someone.

“Is an Andrew Minyard here?” The doctor inquired, clipboard in hand and a stethoscope around his neck.

Andrew looked up and put two fingers up, and beside him, Kevin put down his book.

“We’re sorry we kept you waiting,” the doctor continued, a concerned look on his face. “I know we called you over here because Mr. Josten was in pain, and Mr. Minyard’s name was mentioned one too many times, but when a patient is in his critical stages, we don’t want anyone suffering the consequences. Hence, we do our best to control the situation as best as we could before moving forward.

“Now, as you’re both probably aware,” at this, the doctor looked at a paper on his clipboard, “Mr. Josten has dissociative identity disorder, so he might not remember calling out for you, or, quite possibly, who you are at all. I just wanted to give you both a heads up before coming in. Do you have any other concerns?”

Andrew merely stared back at the doctor. He put his Rubiks cube in Kevin’s messenger bag. Kevin put a hand on his arm and replied, “No. We’re alright.”

“I see. This way, please.”

They both stood up, and made their way to Neil’s room.

“Do you, um,” Kevin started, then paused to reconsider his words. They passed by an old woman in a wheelchair, being wheeled by a nurse. “Would you know who he is today?”

The doctor held his clipboard to his chest. They ascended the stairs of the hospital, the cool air conditioning evident on the railings.

“As Mr. Minyard was mentioned, I’d like to guess he’s Neil today,” the doctor replied. They went up to Natha/Neil’s hospital room, and Andrew stilled, his entire body rigid.

“If you guys have any questions or problems, just page. There are buttons by his bed.” And just like that, the doctor was gone.

The both of them stayed outside for long enough that Andrew started to wonder if they were ever going to muster the courage to go in. If it was ever going to be worth seeing Neil again. His last encounter with Nathaniel still burned in the back of his mind.

A light tap on his shoulder shook him out of it. “I’m going in,” Kevin murmured. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

And then with the open and close of the door, Andrew was alone.

Peering at Kevin through the window, Andrew checked if there were any unusual reactions, if the person on the hospital bed would recognize Kevin. If the person on the hospital bed would even matter.

He remembered how things were back when he wanted nothing. He had made that so evident in everything that he did, in all that he said, in all his attitudes.

Inside the room, Andrew saw Kevin’s arm grip the side of the bed, and a hand on his arm. Kevin was shaking, his head bowed down.

Was he crying? Andrew didn’t know what to make of that. Kevin Day, in all the years they’ve known each other, had never once cried. Or at least, he never showed it.

Something still tugged at Andrew’s heart. As hard as he tried to not feel anything, to not get angry at the world because it was directionless, useless, and it would not change anything, he really can’t help it. Exhaling, he put his hand on the door handle, and opened the door.

The beeping machine was the first thing he heard. The second was the unmistakable yelling of a crowd on the overhead television. Andrew walked in, and looked up.

It was an Exy game. The Bluebadge Bears v.s.the Eastside Warriors.

“The Warriors have always been one of those teams with potential,” Neil was saying to Kevin, a sparkle in his eyes that Andrew hadn’t seen for so long. Fuck. He hadn’t seen those eyes in particular in so goddamn long.

Neil stopped speaking when he saw Andrew, and sat up a little straighter instead. Andrew felt so much tension around his body. He was unsure if that was a good thing or not.

Between the both of them, Kevin quickly brought a hand up to his eyes, and said hurriedly, “I’ll go get some sandwiches from the cafeteria.”

Then, to Neil, he said, “I’m glad you’re still an Exy addict. Wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t.”

Neil smiled, and waved as Kevin exited the room.

As the door closed, Andrew went up to Neil, and gripped the edge of the bed with one of his hands.

“I didn’t think you’d visit,” Neil muttered, gripping Andrew’s arm through his hoodie. Andrew hated that he still had the capacity to mind Andrew’s personal space, even though he was fucking hospitalized.

“I didn’t think Day would cry, but I guess we’re wrong on both counts,” Andrew replied, putting his other hand up to Neil’s cheek, to his jaw.

He felt Neil’s laughter through the side of his throat. “Heh. Yeah. What a drama queen.”

And the both of them stayed there, just like that, staring into each other’s eyes.

Neil had gotten a little thinner, a little paler, but he was still the same annoying man Andrew had gotten to know. Andrew’s eyes followed all the wires attached to Neil, trailed across the restraint marks on his arms.

When Neil saw where Andrew had been looking, he put a hand to his opposite arm. “I woke up from some nightmare, some… some thing that my stupid mind cooked up. I don’t remember much of it. Apparently I went wild and needed to be sedated. It’s been one or two days since that episode, though.”

Andrew knew the episode only happened six or seven hours ago. “It’s over now.”

Neil nodded. “Yeah. Kiss me?”

Leaning forward, Andrew kept staring into Neil’s eyes. He briefly heard the drone of the Exy game above them, the beeping of the machines, the flat sound of the room’s air-conditioning.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

And then Andrew kissed him, starting out light, mostly out of consideration for the fact that Neil was hospitalized. A simple peck, to satisfy Neil’s primary request. Later on, if he was asked to explain, he would say it only deepened because Neil pulled him in, held him still with a hand on the back of his neck, and opened his mouth enough to draw more of Andrew in.

And then in the heat of the moment, Andrew was suddenly straddling Neil, who sat up straighter to meet Andrew’s eyes.

“You know, Kevin’s not going to be back for an hour or two, at most,” Neil said, waggling his eyebrows and sensually running his hands up and down Andrew’s arms.

Andrew practically growled. “Junkie. This was supposed to be a quick hospital visit.”

“So what. We have time.” Neil rubbed his crotch up against Andrew, who groaned because damn, these hospital gowns aren’t subtle. Neil was already half-hard at this point, and with enough time, they would both be fully hard.

“Mmm. Fine. But only you.”

And then they were kissing again, with Neil’s hands on Andrew’s thighs and Andrew’s hands holding Neil’s face up. Andrew was thrusting, his thigh going up and down Neil’s erection. Pre-come already stained his hospital gown. He lowered Neil back towards the bed and went down his neck, biting and licking at the spot where he knew Neil liked it most.

“Ugh. Andrew, don’t stop,” Neil gasped into his ear, and Andrew bit his neck, eliciting a loud moan.

Neil hadn’t been under him like this for such a long time that Andrew’s mind almost short-circuited. He pulled up Neil’s hospital gown and took him in his hand, making Neil’s breath hitch.

Stroking Neil slowly, Andrew growled into his ear, “I missed this. You.”

Neil groaned and met his every stroke with an upwards thrust. It was slow, and hard, and evident that they both wanted this to last.

”Andrew, you do not know how much,” Neil got out, in between heavy breaths, “How much. God. I have thought of you. Of you— ugfh. Doing this to me.”

Andrew was going to have to jack off later after hearing that. ”Mmm. Neil—”

”Fuck, yes.”

As Andrew quickened the pace a bit, Neil leaned up to suck on Andrew’s neck. Andrew grunted - this was even better than he remembered.

”Where— fuuuck. Where can I touch you?”

It felt really good, good enough that Andrew didn’t have time to think. He looked down at Neil’s dick in his hand, hard and slick.

”Ugh— anywhere. For now.” Neil responded by reaching down and palming Andrew through his crotch, which made Andrew grit his teeth. The pleasure was so overwhelming.

They spent the next half hour like that: Andrew jacking Neil off, and Neil with his mouth on Andrew’s neck and his hand down Andrew’s jeans. It was full of panting and groaning and the bed was creaking, but there seemed to be no concern coming from either of them if they would break it. He heard the loud slip and slide of his hand against Neil’s dick.

Andrew ran his thumb across Neil’s slit, and Neil groaned into Andrew’s neck. “Yes, fuckfuckfuck.” He thrust up faster, and Andrew, breathing hard, matched his pace.

”I’m close, fuck, yes, yes, yes—“

”Come on, Neil. Come on.”

”Andrew.” It almost sounded like a prayer.

With a deep moan, Neil came, his mouth open, his cum spilling all over his gown and Andrew’s clothes. Andrew kept going until he was done. Then, with a swift motion, he sat back, pulled down his fly, and grabbed his dick. He was close to coming himself.

”Hey,” Neil panted, holding onto Andrew’s wrist. “Let me?”

Andrew nodded. “Yes.”

Then Neil’s hand wrapped around his dick, and Neil was kissing him, and stroking him, and there was so much of Neil everywhere. It felt so good. It only took a few more minutes before Andrew was coming, his groan stifled by Neil’s neck.

After a few minutes of just coming down from the orgasm, Andrew pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the both of them down. He checked if Kevin was outside, and was relieved to see that no one was outside the door. The game on the television was done, and a commercial was playing. Neil was looking at him, both his hands back on the bed.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered, and Andrew looked at him. Neil’s eyes were full of that– that thing, and Andrew hated it so much.

He hated Neil so much.

“I hate you,” Andrew replied, and leaned forward to kiss Neil again. The kiss was slow, deep, and filthy. Neil wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled Andrew closer to his body. Andrew took note of the way Neil kissed him, with such passion and meaning.

It was a moment he never wanted to end.

#andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg fic #aftg #anonymous #answered #i have so many things to do but this has been in my drafts for too damn long #anyway i hope my southeast asia followers all stay safe! as a filipino i empathize #stay inside and keep safe okaaay #myfic #DID au

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mew-mew-mothertrucker · 7 years ago

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Cold Storms Ch. 3

Chapter - 3 (1) (2)

Word count - 2304

TW - mentions of child abuse

Summary - First assignment it partners! Virgil ends up getting paired with someone who is overly excitedly trying to be his friend. ALSO, THOMAS IS BEST TEACHER I LOVE THIS

Fun Facts - This is the “3rd Grader Angst Fic” if it has a nickname, decided by me and approved by my boyfriend. Also, the facts about Giant Squids are from an assignment I did myself when I was in like 4th grade and I had nothing to do.

AN - Sorry this took so long I’ve been struggling a lot lately and this isn't the best…..

Tag List - @minamishipist @theprotectedpuff @preyed-llama @theawesomemaple @migraine-marathon @sombraplayslazertag @nightmarejasmine @missa-fawn

Virgil was sitting in the classroom as soon as Mr. Sanders opened the room, an hour before school even started. He sat in silence with the teacher, who was typing out things on his school-issued laptop. Mr. Sanders had been concerned when he saw Virgil outside of the room as early as he was, but he was content with the shy boy’s company. Virgil was reading a book he had picked up about cats called Warriors. Mr. Sanders looked up at the student, wearing the same hoodie as yesterday.

“Virgil? May I ask you about your family? The only thing that the records say about it is that you live with your father.”

“O-Oh well, Mom disappeared when we were in New Mexico,” Virgil said, trying to cover up the fact that she had been killed. By you, Virgil. You killed your mother. That gunshot in her head is your fault. The voice in his head was almost screaming. He watched Mr. Sanders, who nodded and watched the small boy, thoughts that he didn’t say flying through his mind.

Thomas had thought it weird that Virgil wore a sweatshirt so early into the school year. But the nerves of losing his mother, whether it be death or abandonment, was stressful enough to give anxiety. Thomas knew, from experience around others and own personal experience that a sweatshirt was nice to wear with anxiety, hoodies especially. Although, Virgil’s current one needed some fixing up.

“If you ever want to talk, I’m always here for you Virgil. I know how hard it can be to move somewhere new, and it must be difficult to not have your mother with you.” Thomas walked over to Virgil's seat. “Your sweatshirt is horribly tattered, I understand that it could be a comfort item for you with losing your mother, but if you would like, would you mind if I borrowed it so I could ask my friends to sew it back up for you?”

Virgil thought for a moment. Most of the newest marks from his father were coerced by the shirt and pants he worse, but he still wouldn't feel comfortable, being able to accidentally touch someone and perhaps ruin them.

“If you would like to borrow another sweatshirt, I’m sure I can find one for you in the nurse’s office until this one is fixed,” Thomas said, seeing the flicker of emotions and thoughts in the child's eyes. Virgil nodded at that and Thomas left the classroom to the nurse’s office.

Virgil looked down at his desk and smiled. It was small but genuine, thankful for the teacher who seemed to actually care about his students. A few moments later, Thomas returned with a plain black hoodie and Virgil took off the purple and black one he worse. Hi accepted the sweatshirt from the teacher and slipped it on. It was a bit large, but Virgil liked it.

“T-thank you, Mr. Sanders” Virgil said, smiling up at the teacher. Thomas felt his heart melt and smiled back at the boy. “Of course, Virgil. You’re one of my students, meaning I will do about anything for you.”

“Mr. Sanders, do you have any children?”

“I’m afraid not, my husband and I have not sent back word if we can adopt or not. I hope we get it by the end of the school year.”

Virgil nodded and pulled the new hoodie closer, opening his book once more.

About ten minutes before class, Amber and Rosanna entered the room. They both went to their seats, greeting Virgil and Mr. Sanders. It was a minute after they entered that Andy walked in. Virgil looked up and gasped at the other child’s appearance. His eye was black, a faint outline of dried blood seeping from his nose. He was in another hurt too big for him, looking down. Virgil got up and walked over, along with Rosanna and Amber.

“Andy, are you okay?” Virgil asked softly, looking at the other child. He nodded, it the way he pressed his lips together and kept darting his eyes about made it seem as if he really wasn’t okay. Rosanna went to her bag and came back with some baby wipes.

“Sometimes they can be useful,” she said, wiping away the dried blood. She was careful but was able to make the bruise be covered mostly, making sure that Mr. Sanders was out of the classroom every few minutes. When Andy looked better, most of the class was inside, waiting for the bell. Virgil moved back to his seat, Roman Logan, and Patton all already sitting in their seats.

“I still don’t understand why you’re planning Halloween this early, Logan” Roman said as Virgil silently slid into his seat. Patton looked over at him as Logan spoke. “Well, Roman, this was we can be able to come up with the best costumes and get them prepared in time. We increase the levels of items that will produce serotonin for the adults, cute items mainly, and we get more candy. That’s why I’m thinking the idea of wild animals, you being a lion, Patton being a wolf and myself as a penguin. Those are the most popular wild animals for cuteness, you now”

Logan’s rant was cut off by the bell. Mr. Sanders walked in, looking up at his students.

“Hello class, today we will be starting with reviewing over math. I have placed a math workbook in all of your desks, so could you each take them out and open to page 3 to practice addition and subtraction?” Virgil opened up the book and began to do the math. He watched as Logan finished first, then himself. Logan was still reading the book on Roman history as Roman himself was third at the table to finish. Patton took the longest but was faster than some students like the Blond who sat next to Andy, whose name was Chris. Andy seemed to like Chris a lot and tried to help the other child. Virgil felt a small smile form as he watched Andy laugh at a joke Chris made. At least he's trying to make others happy was working, even if he was hurt.

Mr. Sanders wrote the problems on the board and solved them with the class, most students getting stuff right.

“Okay Class, now today we are going to need partners for a special project. We are all going to read out of the biology textbook on an animal of your choosing and then write a paper about it. You will be working with partners, with the person sitting next to you. Virgil looked at Patton, who was smiling at him with teeth so white it was like looking at recently-fallen snow illuminated by an LED flashlight. He doesn't want to be your friend the voice said. You’ve already rejected him once. Virgil shook his head and looked at the biology textbooks that Mr. Sanders handed out. He opened it and filled to a random page, landing on Giant Squids.

“Oh, this is cool!” Patton said, looking at the images comparing the Squid to other things, including its eye to a child’s head. Virgil shivered. He didn’t think it natural, that something like that existed.

“Okay let’s just read,” Virgil said quietly. Somehow Patton had heard him over the noise and the two began to read about the Giant Squid. Patton then asked Virgil important notes that they think they should have and Virgil writing the paper. The two had worked quite well together, handling the task with an almost unspoken agreement of Patton organizing while Virgil, whom ad better handwriting, would write the paper.

Soon, it was lunch once more. Once again, Virgil sat alone with a warm sandwich and juice. He sat in the same spot as the day before, looking at other children laughed with friends. Andy, Rosanna, Amber, and Alex all came up and sat at his table. Virgil smiles softly as they all greeted him and started talking.

“So Virgil, where’s the sweatshirt you were wearing yesterday?” Andy asked, looking at the black cloth. His black eye was still covered, and he seemed to jump when any loud noise was made.

“Oh, Mr. Sanders said that he could have some of his friends sew it back together. He got me this one from the nurse” Virgil said.

“That’s good, I mean at least you won’t be dealing with the thought of your sweatshirt falling apart,” Andy said, trying to have an optimistic outlook on the situation. It was refreshing to Virgil.

“Yeah, plus you could keep it,” The twins said together. They both only had an apple, which annoyed Virgil. He looked in his brown bag and found a bag of chips that he had grabbed before quietly leaving his house. He tossed it to the twins, who looked at him with appreciation and he shrugged.

“I have a sandwich” The explanation didn’t stop them from both getting up and hugging him. Virgil hugged the girls back and they finished their food they all walked back to Mr. Sanders classroom to spend recess reading. Mr. Sanders looked at them as they walked in and gave them a soft smile.

Mr. Sanders knew that they didn’t have good home lives, Virgil’s mother being gone, the twins living with only their older brother, Andy with his mother, and Alex with an older sister and father. They were all from broken families. Thomas just wanted to make sure they had friends, and with the way that Andy and Virgil laughed, Amber and Rosanna hung around Virgil, and Alex was almost clinging to Andy, it seemed he had done something good. He smiled as he texted his friends, Talyn and Joan, to see if the couple could go to his house and help him sew up the jacket he had carefully put in his tote bag.

Virgil looked up at Mr. Sanders to see the teacher softly smiling. Virgil knew, deep down, that Mr. Sanders was one of the best teachers that he could have ever asked for. He turned back to his friends to see that Andy had grabbed a book about spiders.

“This is so cool,” He said, opening up to some tarantulas. His eyes shined bright with interest in the arachnids and Virgil looked at the pictures. Shimmering blue tarantulas next to a large orange one. Virgil had always associated tarantulas with the color black so to say that he was surprised about the colorful spiders was an understatement.

“That’s not cool, it’s creepy,” Alex said as she looked over Andy’s shoulders. The boy laughed as he closed the book. The bell rang and the group sat in their individual seats as the rest of the class made their way into the room. After Mr. Sanders confirmed all the students were back, he passed out little notepads. “These are going to be your multiplication books, on each page we are going to start multiplying numbers that have already been written on the pages.”

Virgil opened the book and saw a large 0 on the first page. Mr. Sanders walked up the board and wrote out numbers from 1 to 15. He then made equations with each number being multiplied by 0 and went through the lesson, showing how each number multiplied by 0 was 0 because it was as if there were none of the numbers. Virgil understood and the lesson finished after everyone filled out the paper in the notebook.

“Okay, well now I think it is time for us to start reading a book for class. I will be reading the first Harry Potter book, and this is for a grade. After each chapter, we will have a test.” Mr. Sanders began to read the book, walking around the class and doing different voices for each character. Virgil felt his eyelids grow heavy and felt his head fall onto the desk

Alone. He was alone. Darkness surrounded him. He was cold and he tried to tighten the jacket around him. He started to walk to try and find someone, something, anything that wasn’t this darkness. His legs grew tired after a while, but he continued. He saw something in the distance that was blue and began to jog to try and catch up with it, however, the chill felt as if ice water was being poured down his back. He shook it off and continued on running, trying to catch up with the blue item that was becoming smaller the faster he ran. The jacket flew off of him and the cold seeped into him and chilled him to the bone. He stopped He was shaking-why was he shaking?

Virgil woke up to Patton and Mr. Sanders looking at him concerned. Patton had a hand on his shoulder and he sat up, he saw Andy looking at him concerned.

“Wha- what happened?” He said, looking around at his classmates. Even Roman seemed to be concerned.

“You fell asleep and I think you had a nightmare. Do you want to go get some water to calm down?” Mr. Sanders said, rubbing small circles into Virgil’ back. He nodded and got up, shaking. He walked down the hallway and got a drink of water before returning to class. Patton looked at him and smiled, handing him a drawing.

“I made this when I saw you were sleeping!” He said. Virgil looked weirdly at Patton but opened it up to see Virgil in a bed with a stuffed cat with “Hope you have wet dreams” written in Patton’s semi-messy scrawl.

“Th-thanks Patton,” Virgil said. He had never gotten a gift from someone other than his mother and was surprised. Smiling, he put it in his desk and continued with the lesson that Mr. Sanders had started when he was out.

#cold storms #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sander sides fanfiction #sandersidesfanfiction

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bevioletskies · 7 years ago

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everybody wants to rule the world [3/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 13.5k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

we will find you acting on your best behaviour...turn your back on mother nature…

ao3 | tag

Gamora rose bright and early the next morning, unsurprised to find that she could hear the faint sounds of Peter’s snoring, even through the gilded double doors that had to be at least two inches thick. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sound, despite its more irritable qualities. She was already starting to pick up on the nuances and personality quirks of her fiancé, rather endearing oddities that made him so unlike the other noblemen she had encountered so far in her line of work. There was a predictability in his unexpectedness, if that made any sense at all, though she wasn’t about to tell him she thought he was sort of charming (when he wasn’t being frustratingly naive).

She slipped out into the sitting room, drawing her dressing gown a little tighter around her middle in case anyone happened to have entered Peter’s quarters, but it was vacant aside from the pizza box from last night still sitting on the coffee table, causing the entire room to smell vaguely of fried cheese. Gamora briefly debated the idea of heading to breakfast by herself, but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to facing Ego again, not after she had run from last night’s dinner. And Nova Prime - well, there went her chances of ever redeeming herself and her people. Stupid, Gamora told herself. You ruined everything for your people because of your own pride. You’re a warrior, not a child. Start acting like one.

Gamora knew she couldn’t afford to have another tantrum like that, lose control of herself and her anger because of how people saw her. Fighting with Peter when they were supposed to be allies, lashing out at Nova Prime for simply reading a little too much into her history - there was too much at stake for her to do anything remotely similar ever again. She was so close to achieving a world in which Thanos would no longer exist, a world in which she and Nebula could finally be free. No more mistakes could be made.

“Morning.” Gamora startled at the sound of Peter’s voice, spinning on her heel to face him. How had she not heard him walk into the room? “Is everything okay? You’re just...standing there.” His voice was pleasantly deep, raspy from sleep, hair sticking up on one side rather comically. She bit back the urge to smooth it down. “Dad didn’t come around to talk to you, did he?”

“Thankfully, no.” Her own voice was raw from lack of use. She coughed sharply. “I was just lost in thought, don’t mind me.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered. “Like I said last night, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I am your future husband, after all,” he added with a wink.

Gamora only gave him an impressive eye-roll in response, dropping her arms to her sides as the tension evaporated from her shoulders. “We should head to breakfast now, Quill, and see if I can salvage the mess I made last night. Ask for your father’s forgiveness and hope he doesn’t ban me from this planet the moment I step into the room.”

“Well, he has no right to,” Peter said, ruffling his hair, the curls becoming more unruly with every passing moment. “But if it comes to that, I’ll tell him that if you leave, then I’ll leave, too.”

“Quill,” she said quietly. “You don’t owe me anything from yesterday, okay? It was my temper that ruined everything. Don’t risk your relationship with your father to cover for my mistakes.”

“I still don’t think you did anything wrong, but alright,” he conceded. “We should get going.”

After they both got dressed, they walked to the dining hall together, noting the absence of the attendants and guards that had lined the halls by the dozens just yesterday. Clearly, Nova Prime had already left the planet, might have even left immediately after realizing Gamora wasn’t returning to dinner. The sinking feeling in Gamora’s stomach grew stronger as they entered the room and saw Ego sitting at the head of the table with his hands clasped firmly in front of him. Mantis, Yondu, and Gamora’s people were nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning, your highness,” Gamora said, sinking into a deep bow. “Please allow me to apologize for my outburst last night.”

He merely raised an eyebrow before unfolding his hands, waving her off. “Now, now, Gamora. Don’t you worry about a thing. Irani and I had a little chat after you left, and she felt bad about putting you in such an awkward position. I’ll admit, I overreacted myself. There’s no need to apologize.”

Gamora paused. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Ego chuckled. “Come on now, sweetheart. We can’t expect you to change overnight, after all.”

Peter winced. Uh oh. “Change, your highness?” Gamora said slowly. All semblance of submission in her posture vanished instantly in favor of what was starting to sound like the beginnings of a full-blown confrontation.

“If anything, Peter should be the one apologizing, not you,” Ego said through a mouthful of pastry. “Do you have anything to say to me, son?”

Peter froze instantly, his eyes blown wide with fear. Gamora instinctively reached for him, but decided against it, knowing Ego would misinterpret her intentions. “I...I don’t...I’m not sure...what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

Ego sighed, taking a long drink from his mug before setting it back down on the table with a loud clatter. “Well, that’s just disappointing. I expected better from you, son. Now, I do recall I was supposed to let you look at the guest list, but I’m not so sure I want to do that anymore. I don’t like breaking my promises, Peter. But apparently, you do.” Peter turned to look at Gamora with wild desperation, and she began mouthing the answer she knew Ego was looking for. Ego clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Ah, ah, no hints, sweetheart. Peter’s a grown man. He should be able to figure this out on his own.”

Peter’s heartbeat sped up tenfold, pounding so violently in his chest it was like he could physically feel it drumming against his ribcage. Gamora was now fixated on Ego with an apprehensive gaze. He still hadn’t answered her question, and she had a feeling he wasn’t even going to acknowledge what he had said to her. “I’m sorry...that...uh…”

“I don’t have all day, Peter,” Ego said cooly, draining the last of his drink. “And you don’t, either. So if you don’t have a damn clue, both of you should just sit down, eat breakfast, and be ready for our appointment with the decorator. He’ll be here in an hour with displays for us to look at.”

The two of them moved stiffly to their seats, Peter more shaken than Gamora. He stared at his empty plate for a full thirty seconds before Gamora dropped a bread roll in front of him, which seemed to wake him from his reverie. He kept his hands busy for the next minute or so, piling up food that she already knew he didn’t like to eat, as he continued to rack his brain for the answer. Gamora kept her gaze locked on Ego as she ate as calmly as she could, hoping he would look away long enough for her to tell Peter what his father was looking for.

There was something about Peter’s body language that disturbed her immensely, the tightness of his shoulders, the incessant tapping of his foot against the tile floor. She had already become so used to his improper posture, the way he moseyed about without a care in the world. After everything she had worried about just an hour ago, she had never anticipated Ego getting mad at him instead. You’re smarter than this, Gamora, Thanos’s voice leered, rattling about in her brain. Did you really think Ego was going to risk the alliance by alienating you? And don’t tell me you’re attached to your fiancé already. His wellbeing doesn’t matter, so long as he functions well enough for our purpose. Forget him, and focus on the task at hand.

“Who is the decorator, your highness?” she finally asked, looking away from Ego long enough to grab another piece of fruit.

“He’s a bit of wildcard, that man,” Ego answered cryptically. He was still staring Peter down rather intensely, daring him to say something. Peter refused to look up from his plate, shoveling bread in his mouth like he was starving. “Apparently he’s got all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, gadgets and gizmos aplenty. He’s not actually a decorator, per se, but he does owe me some favors, and he’s got connections all over the galaxy to some of the finest goods known to man.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised you aren’t partaking in decorating the palace yourself,” Gamora said, waving a hand at their surroundings. “Considering how...elaborate everything looks, I would have thought it to be a simple task for you.”

“Oh, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Meetings, the boring stuff. Off-planet.” Ego jabbed his fork outwards in a nonsensical direction. “I’ll be leaving tonight, after we’ve made the last few wedding arrangements. I can’t guarantee when I’ll be back, but I will definitely be here for the wedding.” He chewed slowly. “So, Peter. You figured it out yet?”

“I’m...sorry I didn’t bring Gamora back to dinner like I promised,” Peter said carefully.

“And why didn’t you, Peter?” Ego began wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, the coolness in his eyes still prevalent.

“I was worried about Gamora,” Peter said honestly. “She was upset, I didn’t wanna force her to come back to dinner.”

“So you lied to me, then.” Ego set the napkin down, folded one leg neatly over the other, his hands coming to rest on his bent knee. “You’re really digging yourself a hole here, Peter.”

“I didn’t lie,” Peter frowned. “I asked her to come back like I promised I would, but she didn’t want to, so I didn’t ask again.”

“You better keep an eye on him, Gamora,” Ego said dryly. “You might think you’re marrying a man, but all I see in front of me is a boy. A boy who doesn’t know how to take control like a man, doesn’t know how to handle people like a man.”

“Handle?” Peter exclaimed very suddenly, clenching his fists. Gamora was alarmed to find that once again, tendrils of white light were starting to wiggle their way up between his fingers.

Ego stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor. He flipped his cape back over his shoulder before turning and striding away. “We’re receiving the decorator in the throne room in thirty minutes. I expect you both to be on time. Don’t give me another reason to punish you, Peter. And believe me, I will.”

The moment the doors shut behind Ego’s sweeping figure, Peter let out a loud exhale of relief, flexing his fingers outwards as the light slowly died down. Gamora could only sit in silence, unsure of how to comfort him, or if he even needed comforting in the first place. She was so used to Nebula’s tantrums - yelling, fighting, screaming for blood - that Peter’s quiet fury was completely foreign to her. “You see how he is?” Peter laughed hollowly. “It’s stuff like that that makes me wonder why I even bother sticking around. And then I remember.”

“Your sister?” Gamora guessed. He nodded wordlessly. “Then we’re in the same boat. I would have left Thanos long ago if not for Nebula. She still values his opinion in her own way. Craves his attention like it’s the only way to measure her self-worth.”

“Mantis doesn’t know any other way,” he continued. “At least I had eight years with my mom. But she’s been with Dad since she was a baby. Don’t think she ever got a hug until I came along.”

Gamora couldn’t recall the last time she had been hugged, or who by. It had to have been her mother or father. “Come on, Quill,” she said quietly. “We have to finish breakfast and get going before the decorator arrives. We can’t give your father another excuse to hurt you.”

“Right.” He sighed again, picking up his fork. “You’re right.” ______

Peter and Gamora arrived at the throne room with three minutes to spare, their own capes swishing behind them in haste. To Gamora’s surprise, she found another throne had been bolted down beside Peter’s, shimmering proudly in the sunlight, complete with emerald detailing and a plush red cushion. Yondu was already stood at its side, his back stiff as a board as he stared straight ahead, while Mantis and Ego were already settled and ready.

“Would you look at that? You finally listened to me,” Ego drawled.

“Yes, Dad,” Peter said patiently as he and Gamora joined them. He tried his best to sit as still as possible, though he could see Gamora fidgeting with her ring - not the silver rings that so often adorned her fingers, those were entirely absent today - but the engagement ring he had given her, its green diamond catching the light streaming in through the enormous windows. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to talk back.”

“Attaboy.” Ego patted Peter firmly on the shoulder. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Arriving now, Taneleer Tivan - the Collector,” the herald boomed from the front of the room as the enormous front doors swung open. A man strolled in, followed by two young women who looked no older than Mantis. The only word that came to Peter’s mind in that very moment was eccentric - the man was indisputably odd, with a large fur coat over an asymmetric pinstripe jacket, absolutely dripping in jewels, with a shock of white hair and a dark blue stripe down the middle of his bottom lip and chin. The two women were in matching crisp white uniforms, a stark contrast to their vibrantly pink skin and pigtails - clearly Krylorian, and clearly his servants. “Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Ego of the Celestials, and his children, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis, and Prince Peter’s betrothed, Princess Gamora of the Titans.”

“Well, that’s a damn mouthful,” Yondu muttered under his breath. Peter had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Your Highnesses,” Tivan purred, bowing so deeply he looked as if he were about to tumble forwards. “It is an absolute honor to be in your presence.”

“The honor is mine, Tivan,” Ego chuckled, the prior iciness in his tone no longer there. “I hope you had a safe journey here. I know we’re a bit hard to find.”

“Oh, nothing could keep me away,” Tivan replied, straightening up. “Especially when I heard that the lovely Princess Gamora was here.”

“And why is that, Tivan?” Gamora leaned forward slightly to get a better look at him. It was surprisingly difficult to read his face - despite the dramatics of his appearance and his speech, there was a dullness in his expression that left her guessing.

“Why, you’re absolutely famous across the galaxy, my dear,” Tivan simpered. “When I heard of your engagement to the handsome Prince Peter here, I knew you would make a splendid pair. I just had to come and see for myself. I wanted the opportunity to provide you both the very finest for your wedding. If I may ask, how did you two meet?”

“It was an arrangement between myself and Thanos,” Ego said, eyes flickering briefly to Gamora before turning back towards the Collector. “We figured it was about time to cement an alliance between our two kingdoms. Besides, I think it’s working quite well - my boy seems absolutely head over heels for her.”

Peter let out an undignified squeak. “Dad, that’s - that’s uh.” He chuckled awkwardly. He was unsure of whether it was acceptable to joke around with his father again, or if it was too early, and would only worsen his future punishment. “It’s a bit early to say. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”

“Nonsense,” Ego laughed. “Remember when you were a kid? You loved going on and on about finding your ‘true love’ like in those books your mom read to you. And you’ve been making eyes at her the whole time she’s been here. Father’s intuition, Peter.” He tapped on his temples knowingly. Peter sunk a little in his seat, looking over to Yondu, who looked to be enjoying himself way too much. Gamora herself looked a little disturbed.

The Collector seemed intrigued but thankfully decided not to pry any further. He spun suddenly to look at the women behind him. “Carina! Ophelia! Why are we keeping our hosts waiting? Bring them the displays they have been so patiently waiting for.”

The women startled as if they had been hit before scrambling for the large crate behind them, unbuckling the straps that bound it in place. The sides of the crate crashed onto the ground with an echoing whump, revealing a large glass box. Inside that box appeared to be a revolving orb, glowing a rich, vibrant purple. The Collector snapped his fingers, and the orb suddenly came to life, projecting a rotation of images about five feet above the box. Pictures of floral displays and sculptures more elaborate than the last, table settings and matching curtains, the sort of excessive luxury that made Gamora feel incredibly out of her element. Still, she knew she couldn’t afford another misstep, now that she had tested the boundaries of Ego’s patience. Play along, Gamora, Thanos’s voice murmured in her ear. It’s imperative that they trust you are nothing more than the prince’s betrothed. If you give up the game, know that if they do not punish you, I certainly will.

“Well then, why don’t we take a closer look? Shall we?” Ego got to his feet, rubbing his hands in anticipation. Peter and Mantis automatically stood as well, so Gamora rose to follow them.

It was unlike any mission she had ever been on before, this touch-and-go mimicry of the customs and socialization of these people she still knew almost nothing about. Not that Gamora was entirely unused to this - out of all of Thanos’s children, she was considered to be the best with people, not that that was saying much. She knew how to manipulate people, lure them into a false sense of security. But this was something else entirely, watching the Celestial royal family as they oohed and ahhed over embossed nameplates, smile in delight as the Collector described the intricacies of cutlery in detail. Even Peter, who had been shaking like a leaf not thirty minutes ago at breakfast, was now clapping his father on the shoulder, doubled over in laughter in response to an inside joke as if nothing had happened.

Gamora thought back to how all her previous jobs had gone - find the target, then hurt, torture, or kill the target. Done. It was like clockwork, with the only real variation being who, where, and why, none of which really mattered in the end, not when one was as skilled as she was. Despite its horrifying implications, she liked the routine of those tasks, the expectation of how it was all going to play out. This right here, this was unpredictable and impulsive and rash, and maybe it explained why she was holding her breath like she was drowning and had no idea how long it would take to get to the surface.

“Hey. Hey, Gamora.” Peter appeared in front of her, concerned. “Man, you’re really zoning out today. C’mon, let’s get this over with and then we can go, okay?”

“Right.” She swallowed. “Right, my apologies.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he frowned. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I?” she said hoarsely. He looked at her curiously, opening his mouth as if to ask her something, before Ego began calling them over again, gesturing at another projection of what appeared to be an ice sculpture of Peter and Gamora in a loving embrace. She stepped closer, nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. Now wasn’t the time for her to reflect on what she had done. Focus on what you have to do, she told herself firmly. Have your moment after the deed is done. After Thanos is dead. Only then, do you deserve to celebrate. ______

As the day dragged on, Gamora couldn’t help but feel drained. Not from physical exhaustion - that was a sensation that often eluded her in favor of adrenaline - but from keeping up appearances, matching the sort of energy expected out of Peter and Mantis at all times. She had two more appointments to go - in a way, she was grateful that Ego had insisted on everything being done in a single day, rather than let it carry over the entire span of the week - before she would be free to do as she pleased once again.

The dress fitting - well, she didn’t really want to talk about it. The dressmaker was a defector from the Sovereign who, despite having nothing but ill will for her people, still had every bit of arrogance and attitude that they were known for, commenting on how the swell of Gamora’s muscle definition, particularly in her biceps and thighs, were “unsightly for an otherwise semi-attractive woman such as herself”. Gamora almost started to consider decking the woman in the face, but she wasn’t about to let her temper get the best of her again. And yes, her dress was ostentatiously gold. Seriously, she didn’t want to talk about it.

The last appointment of the day was when she was reunited with Peter. She found herself surprisingly relieved upon seeing him again, smiling tentatively and bowing in greeting, something that seemed to please Ego. Peter bowing back, almost teasingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth, caught both Ego and Gamora off-guard, her smile growing slightly wider as he straightened back up.

After their miscommunication from a couple days ago, once they had reached a better understanding of each other’s intentions, he was a comforting presence among her uncertainty about Mantis and Yondu, and her dread whenever Ego was nearby. Peter was pleasant company, if a little scatterbrained at times. He was clever enough, a natural conversationalist who seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and admittedly very easy on the eyes (Gamora might have been secretly pleased by the tightness of his dress shirt from last night’s dinner). If he were any less amicable, she might have fled a while ago, but something about his demeanor told her that he was trustworthy.

“Cake?” Gamora said slowly. She was staring down the length of the dining table, astonished to find it entirely covered in more dessert than she had consumed in her lifetime.

“You say that like you’ve never seen it before,” Peter commented with a chuckle.

“I practically haven’t,” she replied firmly. “Cake isn’t something that’s easy to come by when one lives the way I do. And I haven’t had any since arriving.” The two dessert chefs who were standing dutifully beside the table looked somewhat offended by her confession.

“Well, then - allow me to introduce it to you,” Peter said. The chefs eyed him apprehensively as he picked up the large knife and sliced into the closest dessert, a vibrant red velvet cake topped with chocolate shavings. He passed her the plate with a hopeful smile, while she accepted it gingerly as if it were a small animal, ready to attack. Ego had since walked over to the head of the table as always, watching her expectantly. “Hey...do you trust me?”

“Marginally,” she said half-teasingly, before taking a tentative bite. She chewed slowly, consideringly. “It’s a bit sweet for my taste. I don’t really have sugar that often. It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Wait!” Peter exclaimed, moving to cut a different cake. The chefs looked to be considering leaving the room entirely since he was so insistent on taking their job. “Maybe you’ll like fruit better - natural sugars - try this.”

To Gamora’s dismay, the moment she took a bite of the second slice - some yaro concoction, oozing with a generous helping of jam - Peter seemed to have taken it as a cue to start cutting pieces from everything on the table, piling it onto an enormous plate. He brought it back to her with a brightness in his eyes, not unlike a child who was incredibly eager to show their playmate all their toys at once.

She tried her hardest not to smile at his enthusiasm. “If your goal was to make sure I’m too full for dinner, you’re certainly on your way,” she replied, though she accepted the new plate. Part of her felt ridiculous - what was she doing here, picking out flower arrangements and curtains, eating cake and tasting appetizers, like it was all she had to worry about? But then she cast a spare glance across the room with Ego, who nodded at her in what she supposed he thought to be solidarity. Right, that was the mission. Pretend like she wasn’t planning a revolution behind his back. She turned towards Peter before she could let everything she was feeling show on her face. “Are you not having any?”

“I already know which one I like,” he shrugged, pointing at a generous slice of perhaps the most modest-looking cake on her plate. Yellow cake, white frosting - no sprinkles or shavings, no fruit or chocolate, just cake. “All these recipes are from Terran cookbooks that I found at Nova trading posts. A little slice of home. But this cake? This is the one my mom taught me how to make. Or, she tried. I wouldn’t really sit still long enough to help measure out the ingredients, or stir, or any of that. But it’s a good memory.”

“Well, I have no sentimental attachment to any of these. So why don’t we go with yours?” She took a bite of the yellow cake, smiling a little as she did. “Besides, I like it. Simple, unfussy. Sweet, but not overly so. Your mother had good taste.”

“You still haven’t had any of the others yet,” Peter reminded her, though his gaze softened as he said it.

“I don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I’ll defer to you. Just this once, though. Don’t get used to it.” He chuckled in response, ducking his head bashfully.

It was then that Ego strolled over to them as casually as he could manage, apparently having become restless observing them from afar. “Have you told her about your mother, Peter?” He slung an arm over both their shoulders, jostling Gamora’s plate somewhat. “She was a beauty, that Meredith Quill. Clever, funny. A real sweetheart. I called her my river lily.”

“That’s great, Dad,” Peter said loudly, stepping out of his grasp. Gamora followed suit, wincing when she noticed some of the icing had smeared onto her jacket sleeve. “Okay, we’ve got decorations and food out of the way, Gamora’s got her dress and I’ve got my suit. Are we, uh, are we good to go?”

Ego looked at him curiously before stepping back. “Alright, I can take a hint,” he laughed, holding up his hands in defeat. “You want dear old Dad to leave you alone with your girl, I get it. I don’t blame you, son. She’s a real keeper, hey?” Peter chuckled weakly as he internally winced. “I’ll be back for the wedding, Peter, I promise. I wouldn’t miss my boy’s big day for the world!” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder one last time. “Say goodbye to Mantis for me, will you? And don’t burn the kingdom down while I’m gone.”

“Ha,” Peter said uncertainly as Ego strolled away, whistling once more. It was the same tune he seemed to whistle all the time, not that Gamora could identify what it was, or if it was significant at all. “Wait, Dad! The guest list.”

Ego paused, though he didn’t turn around. “Why don’t you ask Yondu? After all, I saw him sniffing around my study yesterday. Remind him not to do it again, will you? He should really know better.”

“I - Yes, Dad.” Peter coughed. “Have a good trip.” Ego nodded sharply before continuing out of the room. Peter then turned to look at the chefs, who looked just about as awkward as he felt. “Oh, you’re, uh, you’re dismissed. Thank you for all the cake, it was awesome as always. And please, take the rest of the week off. You guys are gonna be so worn out on the day of the wedding.”

“But, your highness - ” one of them began, astonished.

“It’s your son’s birthday tomorrow, right, Cosima? And he likes chocolate cake, if I remember correctly.” He gestured towards the table of untouched dessert. “Listen, take it all and give it to your families, and everyone who’s working the wedding, alright? Don’t let my dad’s obsession with making our wedding perfect take over your lives. Have some fun, on me!”

Both chefs looked uneasily at each other before looking at Gamora as well, apparently seeking her approval. “Where I come from, we know to never waste food,” Gamora added. “It would be a shame to see your hard work go to waste.”

“Yes, your highnesses,” the chefs chimed, relieved. They left to fetch their kitchen assistants, but not before bowing to Peter and Gamora, huge smiles on their faces.

Gamora turned towards Peter. “Generous of you. I’m impressed. And how did you remember the chef’s son so well?”

“He was one of the first births in our kingdom,” Peter explained. “His mother was working as a server at the time. She always slipped me extra servings of dessert at dinner. I remember making Yondu drag me to her room a few days after her son was born, and apparently, the first thing I said was ‘I thought babies were s’posed to be cute’.”

She snorted. “How tactful. You never really quite understood the concept of ‘think before you speak’, did you?”

“Hey, it’s all part of my charm,” he grinned. “So, what should we do now?”

“Something actually useful,” she suggested, setting her plate down. “Training?” ______

The two of them returned to Peter’s quarters, grateful to finally be alone. Granted, Gamora had suggested they invite the rest of their group along, but to her surprise, Peter had been thinking further ahead than she realized. He had asked Kraglin to escort the others to the armory and set up a secret storage area for their weapons and technology, especially Rocket’s impressive arsenal of guns. So now, it was just the two of them, and they were both surprisingly comfortable with the idea.

It was their first proper training session after the madness of their first few days together, and Peter found himself looking forward to it. Aside from Gamora’s rather unsavory reputation that he now knew to never bring up, he could only imagine the sort of things she could teach him, what he could be capable of under her tutelage. “So, what’s first? Punches? Kicks? How to kill a dude with just one finger?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she snapped her glove straps into place. “I’m not sure what scenario you’re imagining in which you have to kill a...man with one finger. Where are the rest of your fingers?”

“The dude would’ve cut ‘em off. That’s why I have to kill him,” he said seriously. She fixed him with another blank stare before snorting and shaking her head.

“No, Quill, that’s not what we’re focusing on. Like I said before, you’ve clearly got a natural inclination for combat and a decent skill set already, you just need the discipline. You need to anticipate your opponent’s next move before they themselves know what they’re doing.” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching out her torso as she did, arms held high above her head. Peter tried to mimic her movements, though he certainly didn’t have her flexibility. “You also said you know how to fight as long as the other person isn’t fighting dirty. Well, if you’re fighting for your life, all moves can come into play, honorable or not.”

“So if I were fighting you, for example…” He cut himself off with a groan as the muscle in his lower back spasmed from his stretching. “...I could totally pull your hair.”

She stepped closer to him, her gaze traveling up his body in consideration. She tried her best not to let her eyes linger, or surely he’d tease her for it. “If you pull my hair…” she said slowly. Without warning, she kicked out one leg from under him. “...I guarantee your inability to ever have children.” He collapsed in a panting heap on the ground, clutching at the sudden ache in his crotch. “Understood?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “That was...ow.”

“Eloquent,” she drawled, offering a hand to pull him up. He accepted it with a disgruntled huff, only for her to flip him back down once more and pin him in a headlock.

“Ahh!” Peter yelped. He grasped fruitlessly at her arm to no avail, her vice-like grip too solid for him to do anything but paw at her defeatedly. “You are...relentless.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Gamora smirked, releasing him. He stumbled to his feet, somewhat dazed from the lack of oxygen. “And you have to be when your entire life is a kill-or-be-killed scenario. Has there ever been any sort of major conflicts here? War, famine, treason?”

He straightened up, though he was still seeing spots. “No, nothing like that.”

“So then why do you have any fight training to begin with? I can’t imagine your father found value in investing the time for you to train since you supposedly have an army.”

Peter smiled at that. “Nah, not Dad. Yondu. He, uh...well, I’m not gonna get into his story, but he’s a damn good fighter. When he was taking me here, from Terra, I asked him if he could teach me some moves. After a while, I think a part of him wished I became a Ravager instead of a prince. I was a skinny kid. Woulda been good for thievin’.”

“That’s where the story doesn’t quite add up for me,” Gamora admitted, dropping her defensive stance entirely. “Your father is clearly a resourceful man. I mean no offense to Yondu, but why did Ego send a criminal to pick you up instead of returning to Terra himself?”

“He said...he said he couldn’t bear the idea of being back on an Earth where my mother wasn’t living anymore. But I was the one who had to watch her die. And...I don’t know which is worse. Being right there, or not being there at all.”

“I had to watch my family die as well.” She slowly sat on the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. “So forgive me for saying your father has no grounds for his point of view. It’s the kind of trauma no person should ever have to live with.”

He chuckled, sitting across from her. “Y’know, I’m starting to think this room is cursed. Every single time we’re in here, we end up talking about pretty serious stuff. But as long as this doesn’t end in you throwing a knife at me again, I don’t mind.”

She looked almost embarrassed as she hung her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Quill. I spend so much time lecturing Nebula for being irrational, but I realize that my temper is just as bad. It’s something I’m working on, for when I’m...my new self, I suppose. Whatever you want to call it.”

Peter tilted his head slightly as he observed her. There was an unusual softness in the way she held herself, her shoulders loose, her palms open and draped absentmindedly over her knees. The calluses on her fingertips, the scarring on her knuckles, had faded a little bit since the day of her arrival. He couldn’t have ever imagined her to show such vulnerability around him, around anyone, but maybe she had no one to talk to like this. Not when her people were so different from her, not when her sister was more similar than she wanted to admit. It was then that Peter realized, for all of her bravado, the confidence that he had recognized in her the very first time they met, it was rooted in loneliness. And if she was starting to feel connected to him, whether because of their impending plans, by circumstance, or whatever else it could possibly be, he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to help. “Well...what else does your new self wanna do?”

“What do you mean?” She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“I guess...hobbies? New skills you wanna pick up?” He shrugged. “Whatever you can think of, really.”

“You say that like I have a chance at a normal life after all of this, whatever ‘normal’ means,” Gamora replied. “Trust me, I have no illusion of being accepted into society after our fathers are dead. I’m sure there’s a place for me in Sakaar, where I’ll spend the rest of my days fighting for my life. It’s nothing new. It’ll be a comfort, even.”

Peter frowned. “Look, I don’t know if Nova Prime’s offer still stands after what happened last night, but what she said about me? That’s still real. I’ll advocate for you. I’ll make sure people know that it was your idea in the first place.”

She blinked, surprised. “...then I’ll ask you the same thing I asked her. You barely know me, Quill, so why would you waste your time trying to help me? And don’t give me that ‘clean slate’ crap.”

“You’re right. I don’t know you that well,” he agreed. “But you’ve said and done enough for me to already know that you’re a good person. With good intentions. And you deserve a better life than the one you’ve been dealt.”

“And what of your plans afterwards?” she asked. For a moment, she thought of reacting to what he had said - in her mind, it was an utterly undeserved kindness. She could already see so much of the goodness in Peter that others had spoken of, that she couldn’t see how he thought the same of her. Part of her was also suspicious about Ego’s light-hearted teasing - did Peter truly have romantic feelings for her? Was that part of his goal here, to win her over with generous words? It was too early to tell, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she liked the idea or not just yet. “To be blunt, you’ll be a prince without a kingdom.”

“I’d like to think a kingdom is more about its people than a place,” Peter shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep watch over ‘em, wherever they end up. If they’ll still have me, that is.” His eyes lit up. “Hey, you haven’t met the people yet! We should do that while Dad’s away.”

“You really think they’ll accept me?” Gamora said dubiously. “There hasn’t even been an official announcement of our engagement.”

“Then we’ll do it tomorrow, first thing. Kill two birds with one stone!” At her alarmed expression, he added, “Terran expression. Sorry, I forget sometimes.”

“Forget that I’m not Terran?” she said, confused.

“Forget that we haven’t known each other that long. We’ve spent so much time together already, it’s like you’ve been here for months, not days,” he confessed, getting to his feet. Once again, Gamora wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet, though she was also starting to forget what her daily life had been like before coming here. For all of her worries and stresses about how to behave, there was also something soothing about not hiding out in some safehouse for days, or sneaking through an alleyway, or wherever the future scene of her crime took place. Being here was downright cozy in comparison. “C’mon, let’s get back to it. I thought you wanted to discipline me.” He paused. “That sounded less weird in my head.”

“I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear you. I’m getting the feeling I’ll be doing that often,” she sighed as she got up as well. “Alright then, start with your feet at about hip-width apart…” ______

Dinner was decidedly more pleasant than the previous few nights, now that Ego was away. Instead of eating in the dining hall, Peter had requested the chefs make some of his favorite homestyle Terran meals and bring them to his quarters instead. Their entire group gathered in the sitting room, sprawled across the many couches and chairs, as they made small talk and greedily gulped down every last bite.

“I still can’t believe you’re gettin’ married, Gam,” Rocket said as he began licking his paws clean. Peter wondered if it would be condescending to offer him a napkin. “I know it’s an arrangement and all, but geez, you were just slayin’ a bunch of A’askavariians two weeks ago when they sold out the big guy for a lousy hundred thousand units. And now we’re gonna watch you walk down the aisle!”

“I remember that job. You were absolutely drenched in blood,” Drax nodded, taking another generous bite of his meatloaf. “It was quite the sight, Quill. You should have seen it. There is no one more formidable than your wife-to-be.”

Gamora glanced over at Peter, somewhat worried - the last thing she needed was for him to get spooked by reminders of her violent tendencies again - but he was just grinning, awestruck. “That sounds badass,” he said cheerfully. “Kinda gross, but badass. So were all of you there?”

“Yes. We tend to travel together. Gamora and Nebula are sent on missions as a pair quite often, and so Groot and I accompany them to keep an eye on them both,” Drax explained. “Rocket just tags along because - “

“ - because I can,” Rocket boasted. “Big man don’t mind me. And he don’t scare me, either.”

“You should be scared of Thanos. I’d frankly consider it unhealthy if you didn’t,” Gamora said, poking him with her fork. She turned back to Peter. “We have other siblings, but we don’t speak of them. The Black Order...they are much more physically intimidating than Nebula and I, but we have the better track record with our father. He also acquired both of us around the same time, which is why we’re thrown together more often than not.”

“Yes, except we all know Thanos favors you over any other,” Nebula snorted as she took a sip of her drink. “It’s no wonder Korath tried to kill you so often.”

“And failed every single time, so clearly he should feel threatened by me,” Gamora retorted. “We’re not discussing this now, Nebula.”

“Why, because you don’t want your husband to know all of your dirty secrets?” Nebula shot back.

“I am Groot,” Groot said sternly, planting himself on the couch, firmly settled between the sisters. They both let out grunts of annoyance as he squished them into armrests with his overly large (and rather prickly) elbows.

“Yeah, can you two relax for a second? We got plenty of time to fight later, when we’re actually fighting for our lives,” Rocket snapped. “Right now, I just want more of this.” He held up his beer stein above his head as if it were a glorious trophy. “You mind getting me a refill, Quill?”

Peter rolled his eyes as he held out his hand, drawing slow, circular motions with his pointer finger as the glass slowly filled itself to the brim. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you guys like me for what I can do, and not for who I am.”

“Who said anything about liking you?” Rocket snarked, though he clapped Peter heartily on the back in what Peter suspected was meant to be reassurance, though the claw pinpricks in his spine made him wince. “Besides, the only one of us that’s really hung out with you at all is Gamora. But you should be honored, man. She usually hates everyone.”

“I have no patience for anyone,” Gamora corrected, smirking. “Quill is no exception.”

“Trust me, girl, that don’t wear off,” Yondu said dryly. “Oh, the stories I could tell about ‘im when he was a boy.”

“Now you’re speaking my language!” Rocket said heartily, slamming his mug against the table with vigor. The beer sloshed all over the rim, splattering over his paw, but he didn’t seem to notice. “All we ever heard before coming here was goody-two-shoes Prince Peter. Gimme the real dirt!”

“I, too, am intrigued,” Drax added, leaning forward in anticipation.

“I have stories, too!” Mantis piped up. “There is plenty to say about Peter from when we were children.”

“I feel so betrayed,” Peter sighed.

As Yondu and Mantis began telling the others about the time Peter had decided to run around the palace naked on a dare (Kraglin, who had also been a young boy at the time, thought it would have been hilarious - spoiler alert, it was), Peter moved to sit at Gamora’s feet, giving her a tentative smile when she glanced down. Deciding she’d had enough of Groot’s intrusion of her personal space, she moved to join him, finding herself oddly comforted by her shoulder brushing against his. “Why am I not surprised you were a problem child?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m clearly perfect,” Peter replied softly. She laughed before she could stop herself. “I can’t believe our friends are bonding over embarrassing secrets about me and dirty secrets about you.”

“We’re hardly a conventional group of people, so it’s natural to bond over unconventional things,” she shrugged. “If it means we perform better as a team, then so be it.”

“Wasn’t even thinking about the plan, to be honest. I was just thinking it’d be nice to have more friends.” He stared at the dredges of his drink in the bottom of his glass. “It’s only been me, Yondu, Mantis, and Kraglin this whole time. Even then, I don’t see Kraglin much anymore, ever since he got promoted.”

“Can we really afford to be friends, though?” Gamora said quietly. “There’s so much at stake. If we were emotionally attached to each other - any of us, I mean - wouldn’t it make it that much harder?”

“Friends are what kept me sane all these years,” Peter replied. “Don’t you feel the same way about yours? Your sister?”

“They’re my subjects, not my friends,” she said cooly, though one cursory glance at her face told him otherwise. “And my sister and I have a complicated history. I wouldn’t call it friendship.”

“What about - ”

“You?” She looked him up and down again, this time more thoroughly. He squirmed a little under her gaze. “We’re engaged by necessity. That doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

“Uh, well…” Peter trailed off for a moment, surprised by how much her words had cut him. Once again, just when he thought they were getting somewhere, she was leaving him behind instead. “We don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to, but if it’s just by principle of not wanting any no matter what - ”

“I thought we were done challenging each other’s values, Quill,” she interrupted, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. Around them, their friends were bursting into laughter at Yondu and Mantis’s anecdote, oblivious to their conversation. “I told you, sentiment is a weakness. It’s toxic. I accepted a long time ago that I was no longer going to let it into my life. It’s nothing personal when I say I only want to be allies and not friends. So just drop it, okay?”

“Fine.” He turned to look down at his own hands, twisting feverishly in his lap, sans light. “Sorry.”

He supposed there was only so much he could expect from her, having lived her entire life not knowing who to trust. To her, he was probably just another temporary face in the crowd, a means to an end. Still, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. There was something so enigmatic about her, and whenever she was around, he found himself really enjoying her company. But if she was really this insistent on keeping their relationship strictly professional, he wasn’t about to attempt anything otherwise.

“You two arguin’ again? We don’t have time for this,” Yondu complained, plopping down on the couch where Gamora had been sitting and propping his feet up on the coffee table next to Peter’s head. “I’d say you’re like an old married couple, but you ain’t even married yet.”

“The wedding is only meant to signify our compliance,” Gamora retorted, turning to look up at him. “Don’t look too far into it, Yondu.”

“And we’re making our engagement public tomorrow,” Peter added, brightening slightly. “Yondu, you can make all the arrangements, right?”

“I really do gotta do everything around here,” Yondu said resignedly, taking another swig of his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it.” ______

As Gamora got ready the following morning, grateful for the loose-fit clothes that Mantis had slipped her last night after complaining about the weird wardrobe Ego had provided her, she found herself curious about how they were going to make their engagement known to the Celestial people. The emptiness surrounding the palace still gave her the shivers, extending out so far that she couldn’t see another building for miles.

She joined Peter, Yondu, and Mantis in the sitting room, following them silently through the palace corridors to the gardens. She watched in confusion as Yondu and Peter slipped behind one of the tall hedges by the border, pushing the leaves aside to reveal a bolted door. The group made their way inside and down a metal staircase, which led them to -

“Ships? You have ships. And you didn’t think to mention this before,” Gamora said incredulously.

The four of them stood in what appeared to be a modest-sized underground loading bay, boasting a fleet of somewhat dumpy-looking M-ships in varying dull shades of gray and brown. There were a handful of guards milling about, wearing what looked more like mechanic uniforms instead of the standard issue worn by the palace attendants. Despite everything looking a little worse for the wear, it was definitely more high-tech than anything she had seen above the surface, though all the colors were much more subdued (as in, not a trace of gold to be seen), aside from one particularly garish M-ship that certainly wasn’t to her taste.

“We’re taking my ship,” Peter said, pointing to the aforementioned garish ship. It had a blue and orange paint job, and was remarkably clean in comparison to the others. Gamora suspected it spoke more to his vanity than his discipline. “The Milano.”

“You’ll be sorry you kept this from Rocket. He’s an expert pilot,” Gamora said as they walked over.

“Bet he’s not as good as me,” Peter boasted as the landing ramp of the Milano slowly lowered itself down to welcome them aboard. “I’m kind of the best there is.”

“And so modest,” she sighed, taking a few tentative steps inside and looking around curiously. Oddly enough, it was the opposite of Peter’s quarters and yet shared certain commonalities. While his rooms were warm and homely, the Milano was like most spacecraft - grays and browns and blues, its structure mostly consisting of metal walls and floors. However, there were still things scattered everywhere like Peter’s sitting room as well - books, gadgets, food that left a plethora of awful smells, the works.

Peter and Yondu went up the ladder to the cockpit, chatting amicably on the way. Gamora watched them in uncertainty before Mantis gave her a friendly squeeze on the arm, her eyes bright. “There is plenty of room up there for us to join them,” she said cheerfully. “You will love the view of the planet once we are in flight. Come on!”

Gamora was admittedly impressed once she did make her way upstairs, glancing around in wonder at the large windows that encased them. Peter and Yondu seemed to be bickering at the controls, though Peter paused to turn and wave at the girls before going back to nitpicking at the way Yondu was sitting. “Alright, alright, enough of this. You two better buckle up before we take off, don’t want any injuries!” Peter called.

An hour passed before they touched down in Id, which Peter explained was considered to be the capital of Ego’s planet, though he also added that the title was somewhat irrelevant, considering the entirety of the planet had been populated at approximately the same time. Gamora was still uncertain of how exactly they maintained order - regions, cities, towns, how could they possibly govern it all? - but after everything she and Peter had talked about regarding his father, the legitimacy of the planet and the happiness of his people never came into question.

Id was just about as vibrant as she expected, and just a touch gaudy, the streets paved with glittering tile, buildings boasting golden columns and intricate detailing. There was a richness in the landscaping that had been present at the palace, impossibly vibrant blooms of flowers and carefully maintained trees and bushes lining the pavement. People were going about their day, many of them dressed as luxuriously as their rulers, whether they were on foot or in open-air vehicles. As the Milano touched down in the landing bay, located right by the city hall’s gardens, some nearby civilians paused to watch, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as they cautiously moved closer.

The loading dock lowered slowly, allowing Peter and Mantis to descend first, waving enthusiastically to their people. Gamora followed next, though she stepped a little lighter than they had, with Yondu bringing up the rear, nodding at her when she turned to look at him warily.

“Your highnesses!” one woman called out from behind the garden’s fences. “It’s so good to see you both.” The young children hanging on to her skirts slipped through the gate and ran towards their leaders with a joyful whoop, though the guard standing by didn’t seem all too concerned. They wrapped their little arms around Peter and Mantis’s legs, giggling happily.

“Hey, guys,” Peter grinned, ruffling their hair affectionately. “How’re you doing? How’s school?”

“Good,” they chimed shyly, beaming up at them with bright eyes. Mantis reached out to run a gentle thumb over their temples, antennae alight.

“You have both been very good students and very good children,” she informed them cheerfully. “That is good to know. Can’t have you causing trouble for your mother, hm?”

“Yes, your highness,” the boy promised. “I got full marks on my last math test! Mom was really happy when I brought it home.”

“How amazing, Leo!” Mantis exclaimed. “You were having trouble a few months ago with your long division, right? Then you must have made so much progress since I last saw you. She must be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

“And how was your dance recital, Kira?” Peter asked the girl who was attached to his hip. “Sorry I missed it - we had some stuff going on. Boring royalty stuff,” he added, winking.

Gamora quirked an eyebrow at this - she hadn’t expected them to know their people so intimately. Ego, maybe, since he probably had the considerable advantage of being fully Celestial, possessing an above-average memory. But Peter and Mantis were chatting with these children as if they were just next-door neighbors.

A crowd was beginning to form by now, necks craning to get a good look at the new arrivals. Most people only had eyes for Peter and Mantis, calling out to them in excitement, though there were some curious onlookers sizing up Gamora as well, trying to figure out who she was. Yondu reached out to squeeze her elbow unexpectedly. When she turned back to look at him, he gave her what she supposed was meant to be a comforting smile. “You gonna be okay, girl. Just follow Quill and Mantis’s lead, you’ll be jus’ fine.”

After another minute or two of overenthusiastic civilians talking their ears off, Peter finally managed to weave his way through the sea of people, guiding the others towards the front of city hall and up the impressive stairs. An assistant appeared out of nowhere with an official podium, and the herald stepped forward, bowing in respect as the four of them took their places before speaking into the microphone. “Presenting Your Royal Highnesses, Prince Peter and Princess Mantis!”

“Hello, everyone!” Peter called cheerfully, waving out to the adoring crowd. “I’ve got some, uh, some pretty exciting news to share with you all.” He paused dramatically, watching everyone’s faces light up in anticipation. “I’m getting married in four days!” There was an immediate ripple of cheering and whooping - even the children looked enthused by the idea. “You guys know how Dad’s always...looking out for me. He heard about this amazing woman from another powerful kingdom and thought she would be the perfect match, both for me and for our planet’s future. And we’ve been getting to know each other for a little while now - ” Less than a week, more like, Gamora thought to herself “ - and I gotta say, I think Dad was on to something.” Peter extended a hand towards Gamora, gesturing for her to stand beside him at center stage. Trembling with nerves, she took the last few steps, the backs of their hands brushing ever-so-slightly as she did. “Meet Princess Gamora of the Titans, my fiancée and future Princess of the Celestials!”

There was a horribly drawn-out pause - at least, that’s what it had felt like in Gamora’s mind. In reality, it was perhaps no more than two seconds - before a chorus of applause broke out over the crowd, though not as enthusiastic as Peter had been hoping for. It sounded almost hesitant, but he suspected it was more in response to the mention of her home planet, and not Gamora herself. After all, if he had never heard her name, only her title, before they first met, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one knew who she really was.

“You wanna say anything?” he murmured without turning to look at her.

“I’d rather not,” she whispered back. The uncertainty on the crowd’s faces told her that nothing she said was going to change their mind about her, or at the very least, where she came from. Regardless of her own past, the reputation of the Titans was something she would never be able to shake, innocent or not. Peter turned to look at her curiously, looking almost disappointed, before turning back to wave as if nothing had happened, grinning widely at his people.

Gamora remained behind with Yondu as the siblings descended the stairs to chat with their people once more. She watched as they both practically glowed with excitement, embracing adults and children alike, or just enthusiastically nodding their heads as their subjects rambled on about the newest community events or how their businesses were prospering. “It seems irresponsible for them to travel without a member of the guard,” she commented. “They may seem universally beloved by your people, but - ”

“Who’s to say they don’t got someone lookin’ out for ‘em?” Yondu snorted, patting the yaka arrow on his hip. “You ain’t seen me in action yet, Gamora. It’s a damn fine sight to see, you can hold me to it.”

“Have you ever considered committing treason against Ego?” she asked, quieter now. “You taught Quill how to fight, after all. And I’ve had many a time where I considered driving my sword through Thanos’s skull, not that I’d ever get close enough to do it.”

“Sure, I think about it sometimes. But I’m not stupid enough to kill all of us in the process. The whole dang planet would explode,” he chuckled softly. “My loyalties lie with the kids, and they been loyal to Ego up until now. Y’know, I still find it crazy you managed to get that boy to consider doing something he shoulda thought about a long time ago. Now, I’m no parentin’ expert, but I can tell Ego’s not doing it right. No good father would ever act the way he do.”

“I can tell they both think highly of you,” Gamora said consolingly. There was something about the anger burning in Yondu’s eyes, both now and from a couple nights ago, that told her of his true intentions. Despite being an ex-Ravager captain, at his core, he seemed like the kind of person she wanted on her side. “You said it yourself - you practically had more of a hand in raising them than Ego did.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t their daddy.” Yondu looked almost saddened at having to admit such a thing. Before Gamora could inquire further, Peter came jogging back up the stairs to join them, oblivious to Yondu’s troubled expression.

“Hey, so the people have been asking for us to stay in Id tonight. They wanna throw us an engagement party,” Peter said excitedly. He was practically bouncing on his toes in elation. “We can send a ship to bring your people over to join us. I’m in if you are!”

She eyed him speculatively. “I thought we were going to go over our weaponry cache today,” she replied.

He faltered. “Yeah, I guess I forgot about that. Well, we can - ”

“ - but you wanted me to properly engage with your people for the time being, present ourselves as a united front. I imagine this would be my best opportunity since you said the wedding would be nothing short of chaotic,” she finished, giving him a small smile. “Weapons can wait until tomorrow. Rocket won’t be very happy about that.”

“There’ll be free booze?” he offered tentatively, grin widening.

“Then never mind, our change in plans should suit him nicely,” she chuckled. “When and where is this party being held?”

“Starting around dinnertime, in City Square. It’s about a dozen blocks over from here,” Peter explained, pointing into the distance. “In the meantime, I’ll get us a car and show you the sights! It’s way more awesome out here than in the palace, believe me.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she admitted. “I am getting a little tired of being cooped up, working on our...plan, all the time. I guess I should enjoy the fresh air while I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” Yondu hooted, pumping a triumphant fist in the air. They both startled at the sound of his voice, having completely forgotten he was there. In all honesty, Peter had gotten a little caught up in the vibrancy of Gamora’s hair in the morning sun, trying his best not to stare. “And how about I go get the car? You always ask ‘em for that gaudy ol’ thing that don’t got any sort of protection at all.”

“It’s Dad’s car, so you try telling him that!” Peter called after Yondu’s retreating back as he disappeared down the stairs to fetch the attendant. “Well. Okay, then. Ready to live a little?”

“I’d hate to see what your idea of ‘living a little’ is, but it’s too late for me. I’ve already agreed,” Gamora said, smirking. “Lead the way, Quill.” ______

Gamora found herself surprised by her surroundings as they began making their way through the city on foot, having been dropped off further away from its center. Yondu had taken Mantis elsewhere after some civilians had requested she visit one of the local schools, leaving Peter and Gamora alone yet again. Considering the false decadence of the palace in contrast to its stark environment, she had assumed the rest of the planet would echo the very same, lacking depth, lacking life. But the streets were as lively as any other moderately populated planet, bustling with men, women, children, and occasionally animals she suspected wouldn’t live in harmony together otherwise. Most people bowed their heads as Peter passed, a few reaching out to squeeze his hand or arm in greeting every now and then, many of whom he greeted by name. No one seemed particularly intimidated by his presence, only made happier by it. It was a far cry from the way people reacted to Gamora or Nebula on Titan, the way that the slaves in Thanos’s possession (the very idea made her skin crawl) curled into themselves the moment they laid eyes on either sister.

“They look up to you,” Gamora commented as he guided her down a vacant alleyway. “But not in the way people look up to their master for guidance. More like...a revered hero, for reassurance.”

“I just want them to remember me well. To know I’m looking out for ‘em,” Peter nodded. “Can’t be a good prince if my people can’t trust me. But hey, if you wanna call me a hero, I ain’t complaining,” he added with a laugh.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Quill,” she teased, elbowing him gently. “And where are we going? Why aren’t Yondu or your sister here?”

“So many questions,” he chuckled, reaching out for her hand. “Come on, I thought you trusted me.”

“Marginally,” she repeated, though they both knew it was much more than that as she laced her fingers with his. They were pleasantly warm, a little rougher than she expected for a man of his privilege. He smiled in return before leading her into a small shop. It was dwarfed by its surroundings and utterly normal in appearance, lacking the gold detailing and sparkling tiles she had gotten so used to back in City Center. Instead, it was nondescript wood siding and scaffolding, with one small window that provided little view inside, no sign that boasted its wares or services. She would have otherwise thought it to be a house hidden among random shops.

Once they were inside, however, Gamora found herself overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things filling up its cramped quarters, teetering shelves and crooked cabinets stocked up with random trinkets and treasures, racks of used clothing and old sheets, piles and piles of tattered books stacked from floor to ceiling. There was a small, worn desk by the door, and behind it, a finely-dressed man, who bowed the moment he saw Peter step in.

“Greetings, your highness,” he said politely, straightening up. “I heard you were in Id, but I wasn’t sure if you would be stopping by.”

“Aw, Broker. I’ve always got time for you!” Peter exclaimed, reaching over to pat the older man on the shoulder. “Besides, what better time to bring my fiancée to the best shop on the whole planet than right now?”

“You flatter me, Prince Peter,” Broker replied, though he was glowing with pride. “It is lovely to meet you, your highness,” he added in Gamora’s direction, bowing to her as well. “Please let me know if you’re looking for anything in particular.”

She smiled at him cautiously, wondering when someone, anyone, was going to recognize her, before making her way through the winding maze of goods, careful not to knock anything over. “He looks familiar,” she murmured to Peter, who had followed her to the other side of the shelf, perusing a selection of novelty keyrings.

“Broker? He used to set up shop on Xandar,” Peter whispered back. “Dad invited him to bring his business here, keep him away from the crazies who attacked his place to get their hands on rare inventory. You haven’t ever...tried to...kill him, have you?”

She fixed him with a glare. “No. But I passed through Xandar before. I was told I could find an Infinity Stone there, but my source was lying,” she replied coolly. “I must have gone by his old shop or something.”

Peter nodded sheepishly, feeling a little guilty about his question. “I wasn’t kidding, by the way. This place is pretty cool - I get stuff for Yondu and Mantis from here all the time. Broker’s got tons of weapons in the back, if you wanna check those out.”

“I actually wanted to look at the books,” she said, gesturing towards the precarious stacks of volumes that looked to be defying gravity. She felt as if one wrong move would cause the entire place to collapse into itself. At his raised eyebrow, she drawled, “What, did you think I couldn’t read?”

“I just - I - well, I didn’t think Thanos would bother teaching you,” he stammered defensively, watching in fascination as she began running her fingers down the spines, tracing the faded lettering. She lingered every now and then, before decisively pulling out a few books in particular. “I didn’t think you and Nebula were savages or anything. Just, you surprise me sometimes.”

“If it’s a skill that helps me carry out my duties, then it was useful enough for him to instill it in us,” she replied. She circled around to another stack and began picking through its selection as well. “I might as well use what little free time I have here wisely. I don’t get many opportunities for leisure, and if my life here is about to become as relaxed as yours, then I should take advantage.”

He followed her, albeit at a safe distance. “You should look at what I’ve got in my study, too,” he offered. “I’ve got tons of books in there I’ve never touched. Put ‘em to good use for once.”

Gamora smiled, something soft and pretty and utterly unexpected. Despite her reservations earlier, Peter thought she looked happier today than she had been the previous five days (and oh, wow, had it really only been five?) he’d known her. “Thank you, Quill.” ______

The rest of the day went by peacefully, with Peter leading Gamora around the city, showing her the sights. It ranged from modest to ostentatious - both the places and the people. To her relief, most passersby seemed unaware of who she really was, who she was tied to. It still made her stomach twist anxiously, though, seeing what looked to be the last of individuals of races that she or Thanos had wiped out. She had to remind herself that she was trying to save everyone now, as much as it seemed like she was doing nothing of real significance, what with her dress fittings and cake tastings. But patience was key - it could be weeks, or even months before the opportunity would make itself available to them, but it was going to happen. She would make sure of it.

They reunited with Yondu and Mantis by dinner, along with the rest of Gamora’s people, in the City Square. The sun was going down, but the streets were lively as ever, music streaming through speakers mounted on every lamppost. The crowd shifted around them like a tide, sweeping their group inwards until they reached the rows upon rows of tables in the very middle of the square. The tables were covered in mismatched tablecloths and oversized bouquets of flowers. Dishware and cutlery were already set out, while people bustled in and out of nearby houses and market stalls, hefting large trays of food.

“When you said there’d be food and booze, I didn’t think it was gonna be like this,” Rocket commented. He was perched on Groot's shoulder, his line of sight far higher than anyone else’s. “I expected, I dunno, gold everything like your dumb palace. Some sparkly, wishy-washy crap.”

“This ain’t Sovereign, Rocket,” Peter laughed good-naturedly as they neared the table. The crowd didn’t seem too concerned about watching them take their seats, already disappearing to get more food or find their companions. Peter paused, glancing at the single chair at the head of the table, before reaching to pull another one around from its side. He gestured for Gamora to take a seat. “For you, Princess.”

“Are you really going to call me that in public?” she grimaced, though she sat down without further complaint. Peter and the rest of their people followed suit, filing themselves neatly on either side of the table.

“Only when necessary,” he promised with a childlike grin.

The Celestial subjects began joining them as well, setting down the last of the food before taking their seats. There had to be room for at least a hundred people, with others crowding in to serve themselves before walking away to sit on the sidewalk or the nearby benches. It was certainly one of the strangest arrangements Gamora had ever seen, with the barricades preventing vehicles from passing through as everyone flooded the streets by foot. It was more akin to a street party than the soirée she had been imagining. Peter and Mantis began dishing out their own servings, politely declining as one kindly older woman offered to help them, so Gamora followed suit.

“Does this happen often?” Drax asked after they had been eating for a few minutes. “This celebration among your people, it is similar to the war rallies of my home.”

“Not really,” Peter admitted. “We don’t have exciting stuff happen that much. Which is why we should make the most of it! Live a little, you know?”

“I would prefer to live a very long and fulfilling life,” Drax frowned. “Why would I only want to live a little?”

“No, that’s not what that - ”

“Your highness! Let us congratulate you on your engagement,” one large, boisterous man boomed from further down the table, holding a generous mug of mead in the air. “So many of us have watched you grow into a fine young man over the years - it’s a blessing to be part of this celebration, my lord. You have provided us with your good heart for so long, to see you share it with someone else is all we could ask for.” Gamora blanched a little - they did remember this was an arrangement, right?

“Thanks,” Peter said cheerfully, unfazed. “So, tell me how you guys are doing! Is everything going okay? Chancellor Yorke is taking good care of you when we’re not around, I hope.”

“She approved the new park just last week,” a different man chimed in. “My daughters will love the new play area.”

“And you should see the school over in Otto,” one woman called, waving her hand enthusiastically. “They’ve got their music education program up and running. I’m sure you would have loved to attend when you were young, your highness. Or maybe even now!”

Gamora couldn’t help but cut in, curious. “So that’s common knowledge, then? My...fiancé’s fixation on music?”

“Fixation? It’s his passion, my lady,” the woman laughed. “I remember the day our king brought him home and announced that he had finally found his beloved son. Do you recall, my lord? You were standing on the steps of the city hall like you were this morning, except your hands were in your pockets, headphones on, bopping away without a care in the world!”

“...‘bopping’?” Gamora asked skeptically.

“Dancing, Gamora,” Peter exclaimed incredulously, putting his fork down. He was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head. “You’ve never danced before?”

“You assume that I can’t read, but that I can dance. Interesting,” she deadpanned. He gave her another inquisitive look, prompting her to go on. “I was raised to be a warrior,” she continued. “I do not dance.”

As if on cue, the music grew louder, some gentle, whimsical song crooning through the speakers, filling up the tiny gaps between the multitude of conversations occurring all the way along the length of the table. She looked at Peter accusingly, but he only shrugged, having had nothing to do with it.

“Join me?” he requested, getting to his feet. He held out a hand, though his gaze fell on her face, his eyes gentle. “Or I can ask Mantis,” he added quietly. Gamora could feel the others’ eyes on them, watching expectantly.

She examined his outstretched palm for a moment, the unexpected callouses of his fingers and the slight bruise he had on his knuckle from attempting to knock her out in combat training yesterday (and failed, causing him to spiral wildly into the nearest wall). She stood as well, accepting his gesture as she did. “Your father’s probably expecting us to dance at the wedding. I’d rather embarrass myself now instead of later,” she answered, though her stomach warmed with nerves (or maybe she was just hungry. They had barely started eating, after all).

“Forget him, I want to dance at our wedding,” he laughed, squeezing once as he led her over to the crowd. “And since you’re teaching me how to fight - with discipline, as you so kindly put it - let me teach you how to dance.”

Why do birds suddenly appear...every time you are near?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…

They stood still for a moment, her eyeing him cautiously as he watched her in contemplation, before he took another step closer, his hands coming to settle on her waist. Gamora blinked in confusion before putting hers on his shoulders, and slowly, he began to move from side-to-side, his hips swaying slightly with the swell of the piano. She followed him automatically, though stiffly. Her shoulders were still bearing the weight of her discomfort from earlier, her elbows locked tight.

Why do stars fall down from the sky...every time you walk by?...just like me...they long to be...close to you…

“There doesn’t seem to be much to dancing,” she commented after a minute had passed by, unsure of where to look. Peter’s gaze remained on her face, the mischievous spark in his eyes still evident in the evening light. “We’re practically just rocking back and forth. What is there to teach?”

On the day that you were born the angels got together...and decided to create a dream come true...so, they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold...and starlight in your eyes of blue...

“Well, we’re just doin’ something simple right now,” Peter said defensively. “Wait ‘til we try something like - ”

Gamora found herself being twirled underneath his arm as he spun her out, before guiding her back into his embrace, barely giving her enough time to catch her breath. She righted herself against him, fingers digging a little deeper into his shoulders. He was warm, a little heated from all the walking they had done and the amount of body heat surrounding them, but he was steady, graceful in a way that he hadn’t been during combat practice. He fought sharply, haphazardly, flinging himself about with reckless aplomb. Here, there was a kindness in his presence that she found welcoming, a thoughtfulness in his touch.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard about something...again,” he said half-teasingly, half-seriously. “All that stuff you were stressing out about yesterday during those dumb appointments - is that it?”

“I have a lot on my mind,” she replied quietly. “Don’t you, considering the position we’re in?”

“Sure, but I’m trying to not make it super obvious how freaked out I am. Is it working?” he grinned cheekily, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You won’t be able to charm your way out of every situation, Quill,” Gamora said sternly, though the twinkle in his irises made for a much more pleasant view than the swirling cosmos of a few days prior. “We can’t have every day be like this.”

“But...you had fun today, right?” Peter looked uncertain. “I mean, I did, and sometimes coming here’s a real drag - usually I’m with Dad, and we make official announcements and pass laws and stuff, but - ”

“I did,” she interrupted, smiling tentatively. “It was quite the tour. And I’ll admit, you make for good company.” She didn’t need to look down to feel the warm glow of his hands on her waist, pleased by her words. “Maybe friendship isn’t...entirely off the table.”

“You’re just saying that,” he chuckled bashfully.

“And I mean it,” Gamora promised. “But only because I’m feeling strangely optimistic about our chances of survival. I could use more allies once we’re on the other side of this whole ordeal. Either that or I’ve had too much wine.”

Peter pulled her in closer as they took gentle steps, circling slowly as everyone around them continued to eat, drink, and dance to their heart’s content, oblivious to their prince and his soon-to-be wife. His eyes went to the table, where their friends were, watching and smiling at them, and then to Gamora’s entirely untouched glass of wine. He smiled privately to himself, ducking his head into her hair as he did.

Just like me...they long to be...close to you...

a/n: hey, all! first, i am so sorry for this chapter being later than i originally intended, school took over and then i got the flu so i've been mentally all over the place, but i've sort of got a handle on my schedule now so hopefully i can have more realistic estimates on the next chapter.

by the way, my aim is for the next chapter to be either the week before valentine's or the week of, because chapter four is going to be the wedding!! if you have any suggestions for good love songs from the 50s to the 80s that would be great for the wedding, please let me know! i've exhausted most of my favorites in my other fic and i just love music recommendations in general haha

speaking of music, the song that peter and gamora dance to is (they long to be) close to you by the carpenters.

thank you so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see y'all in the next chapter!

#starmora #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #peter quill #gamora #myfic #myfic: rtw #marvel #hey fam!! haven't forgotten this fic i've just been sick haha #honestly i'm surprised how well the lyrics of this song work for chapter summaries

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