#sighs maybe i’ll need to try and write something thanos centric

[making-eggs]

i think one aspect of thanos we don’t talk about enough is the fact that he clearly seems embarrassed over his failed career. like he was ignoring someone that was an actual fan of him, not to mention how aggressive he gets when he’s reminded that he messed up his semi finals. i think his shame is a super interesting aspect to who he is and i wish i seen more about it

[aire101]

Ferrum Chapter 4

Hey y'all, got this chapter out a bit sooner than the last one!

For those who read the light novels of SAO this chapter will be kinda familiar, for those who have only watched the anime, this is the town where Kirito ran to after leaving Klein in Episode 1, and the quest where he got his Anneal Blade we see in the series.

Also, while I make no promises that it will make it into the story, I am open to suggestions on what kind of adventures or shenanigans you would like to see the boys get up to in SAO. As I've mentioned previously I don't really intend to get the boys mixed up too much in the main canon, so if there's an aspect of the SAO world in general you'd like to see explored outside of the main battles and Kirito's storyline I'm open to considering it. I'm also ok with interactions with known characters, just trying to avoid writing the whole Kirito centric Aincrad arc.

--------------

Activate-Vertical slash-hold

“Switch!”

1-2

“Switch!”

Defend-rage spike, upward strike—

“SWITCH!”

Peter fell back again, the post motion-delay that set in for a measly few seconds was nevertheless a highly vulnerable moment that he and Mr. Stark had figured out a work around for early on in their trek. The boars from Day 1 had been easy one hit kills, so they hadn’t noticed the system forced post-motion cool down period until they had been fighting on the road the next day. Their tag-team approach served them well, and best that Peter could tell from when they came upon other players in the wild, most of the rest had come to the same conclusion that they had. Because of that, it was unusual these days to find someone soloing in the pvp areas by choice.

Mr. Stark switched in with a strong horizontal slash, bringing the Little Nepenthe's HP down to zero.

“You know, I was never one for plants anyway, but after this quest I swear to god I will never put a single point into the gardening skill,” said Mr. Stark as he sheathed his sword.

“I’ve told you, green stuff is sadness and disappointment solidified,” replied Peter, following suit.

“I still expect you to eat your greens, kid.”

“It’s a tragedy, I tell you. Here we are, trapped in a fantasy game and every meal is still served with vegetables.”

“Yeah, that’s the real tragedy here.”

“I want my money back.”

“You weren’t even the one who bought the game. But either way, I’ll buy you every Playstation, X-Box, and Nintendo game ever in existence when we get back if you just never touch a full dive ever again,” said Mr. Stark, laughing.

And there’s Peter’s daily reminder that he still hadn’t informed Mr. Stark of the horrific truth of his situation.

“I think it’s time to call it a night, Underoos.”

“Is this quest even worth it? We’ve been out here for like three days weeding these things out. The drop rate on this thing is atrocious,” moaned Peter.

“From what our source says, this quest has one of the best weapons you can find on this floor as it’s reward. And while I’ve been funneling as many points as possible into weapon creation, its not quite where it needs to be to match that yet, so better to start with a good blade and just do the enhancement myself. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that terrible pun, you should be ashamed.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in my pun game.”

Mr. Stark gave a deep sigh/groan before he turned and started walking back towards the direction of Horunka Village. He probably had rolled his eyes too, but it was impossible to tell through the helmet he always wore.

Night had long since fallen over Aincrad, and it had been dark in the forest even before that. Pale blue light slit through the trees overhead, lighting the path, but otherwise they made their way by memory and intuition. A breeze stirred up leaves from the ground, and Peter shivered slightly from the cool night air.

“Do you think its going to snow here in the winter?” asked Peter.

“If we’re all still here in the winter—which all signs point to yes— I think it will. We can see from the thunderstorm last week it has a functioning variable weather simulator. I wasn’t a part of that programing team obviously, so I don’t know for certain just how far that variable goes, but I would think the primary associated weather variations like rain, snow and heat waves will be included. It might also vary by floor. Probably won’t know the answer to that until we get a few floors opened up,” answered Mr. Stark.

“Huh… something to look forward to I guess,” said Peter.

“Why? You don’t get enough snow in Queens?” Mr. Stark said with a joking tone.

“Yeah, but you know in the real world I kinda have to be careful with the cold. My body temperature runs a bit cooler than the average, so unless I’m in the suit I try to keep exposure to a minimum. In here I can probably spend all day in it with out any trouble,” said Peter.

“I didn’t know that, actually,” said Mr. Stark, this time far more seriously. “You haven’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t thought about that at all.”

“Oh. Well, that built in heater and temperature regulator in the suit pretty much took care of the problem. It’s just something I have to keep in mind,” said Peter, awkwardly trying to cover his slip up. Obviously that had been a conversation they had some time after Mr. Stark’s last memory.

It had been almost two weeks since they had been locked in this game, and Peter was still no where close to figuring out how Mr Stark was even here. And he was equally no where closer to telling Mr. Stark the truth about the events in the real world— Thanos and the Infinity Stones, Mrs. Stark and Morgan, Mr. Stark’s death and Peter’s own—

“Anyway, we should definitely make a day of it once it does. I don’t know about you, but its been years since I built a snowman and I kinda want to change that,” said Peter, quickly diverting his thoughts.

“Sure, might as well. Not like we’re going anywhere fast in here. Though if you start singing Frozen songs I might reconsider.”

“You know, they’ve written out your entire life story in news articles and magazines, but they always leave out how much of a killjoy you are.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m the life of the party.”

“A retirement party, maybe.”

Mr. Stark threw the finger back over his shoulder at Peter and kept walking.

Peter was just just about to follow suit when out of the corner of his eye, the sight of polygons coalescing into a hazy form caught his attention.

It was obviously another Little Nepenthe, but above the typical hellish roots and vines and the bizarre, speckled pitcher plant topped with its gaping fanged mouth, was a large, blood red bloom.

Petter inhaled sharply, the sound causing Mr. Stark to spin around as well.

This was it. This is what they were looking for.

Before the creature could attack and he could second guess himself, Peter drew his sword and leapt in with a swift Horizontal Strike at the plant’s weak spot— the joint between the stalk and the pitcher.

The strike hit true, and before the evil hell plant got even a single chance to spew its corrosive liquids, it dissolved back into broken polygons, leaving behind nothing but the delicate flower holding the Ovule they had searched for.

“Whoa! You actually got one!”

Mr. Stark and Peter both spun around, swords raised. Behind them stood another player no older than Peter, with his arms now raised in a sign of surrender.

“Sorry! I was using my hide skill in here. It doesn’t really work on the Little Nepenthes, but it helps avoid other confrontations,” said the player.

Despite what they said, Peter took a good look around, searching for others. The timing and the seeming lack of a party giving good reason for concern. PKers lurking around valuable drop spots to attack and rob unsuspecting players of their loot wasn’t an uncommon thing in PvP games, and unfortunately not even a full two weeks in, SAO was no exception. In any other game, they may simply be considered griefers. But here, to the best of their knowledge it was nothing short of murder.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” asked Mr. Stark, not lowering his blade.

“Eh, I don’t really have one,” said the guy sheepishly

“Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe,” said Mr. Stark. “Kid, do you see anyone else? Or are they hidden as well?”

“Look, there’s really no one else, its just me. People in here don’t really like my type,” said the guy, with a sad note in his voice.

“Oh…” said Mr. Stark, voice now tinged more compassion than aggression. “You’re a beta tester, aren’t you kid?”

The guy flinched, but nodded. “Please, I promise I’m just doing some light grinding in the area. There’s no one else, and I already have the quest item.”

Mr. Stark didn’t sheath his sword, but he gave a nod and backed away.

“Alright, good luck then,” he said.

The other player nodded in return, turned and walked back into the woods.

“Pocket the ovule quick and keep an eye out. Don’t sheath your sword until we get back into town,” said Mr. Stark before he began running back in the direction of Horunka village.

Peter slipped the item into his inventory and easily kept pace with the other man. After a few minutes of running, Peter finally spoke up, “Do you think he was telling the truth? Pretty surprising he freely admitted to that. For all he knows we could have been Beta Killers.”

“If we had killed someone our player cursors would still be orange. It is unusual though. He must have figured it was worth the risk to try and get us to back off,” said Mr. Stark. “Poor kid, as if being stuck in this game wasn’t bad enough, having to hide a beta status from other players…”

Just as Mr. Stark had expected that first day, it didn’t take long before the terrified and angry masses started looking for someone to blame. And with Kayaba disappearing into the digital ether, apparently the scapegoats they chose were the 700 or so beta testers who had logged in with the rest that day. According to most pub talk, the beta testers had left the rest of the players in the dust of the Town of Beginnings, getting through the most lucrative quests and hunts before most even dared to leave the city. They were condemned as selfish and greedy, and were therefore persona non-gratis in most parties. Even worse were the stories of betas being outright murdered and monster PK’d. Out of the almost 1000 players who were already dead about two weeks in, around 150 had been beta testers. A staggering amount given how few of them there had been. Plenty had undoubtedly met their end due to the game itself, but many had ended up victims of angry mobs.

Peter didn’t understand it. Yeah, the beta testers had more info and experience than the rest, but they had shared much of that info on the internet before the game even began. Then after a few days in game, vendor markets began carrying a free SAO Guide booklet created by someone called ‘The Rat’, who had clearly made and circulated the original file Ned had uploaded to the Nervegear. Almost anything you could want to know was available. It was how they had learned of this quest in the first place.

“Hey Ferrum, why do people have to suck so bad?” asked Peter, mostly rhetorically.

“If I had the answer to that, I wouldn’t have been a weapons manufacturer.”

After a few minutes of running they finally crossed over into the town Safe Zone. Horunka was a small village, with only about ten buildings in all. One of which was the house of the NPC who gave the quest, and their current destination.

As they walked down the road towards the house, several parties milled about, clearly having just returned from their own hunts. A couple eyed the two of them as they walked through.

“Looks like someone finally managed to snag an ovule. Lucky bastards…” someone muttered.

“Who actually wears a helmet in this game?” said another.

“Yikes, imagine being stuck in here with your dad…”

Overhearing that last line caused Peter’s face to flush, which given its digital nature was just plain unfair. Did they have to be that thorough?

No bigger than the town was, they were soon standing in the living area of the house. The lady of the house whom they had met previously still stood stirring a pot of simmering liquid, her expression drawn and tired. The only thing that about her that gave her away as an NPC rather than a player was the exclamation mark hovering above her head in the place of a player cursor, indicating a quest in progress.

“Go on, kid,” said Mr. Stark, staying by the door.

Peter slowly approached. Even knowing that the woman was an NPC, it still felt rude to just barge into the house without invitation. He brought up is inventory and took out the ovule, handing it out to her to take.

Immediately her face brightened, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder just how developed the NPC AIs were. Were they simple rudimentary ones like most games? Or were they more like Mr. Stark’s AIs? Was she aware of what she was?

“Oh, thank you so much, kind swordsman! My daughter has only grown worse since we last spoke, I was beginning to worry she may not make it till your return,” she said, taking the ovule from my hand and adding it to the pot.

I saw my quest log update to the left of my view, but I was distracted by the sound of deep coughs coming from further in the house.

“Here, this blade has been passed down in my family for generations, but I gladly trade it in exchange for your aid saving my child’s life. Take it with my blessing,” said the lady, pulling a blade encased in a worn red sheath from an old trunk. With both hands she extended it out to me to take, a smile still on her lips, tears of gratitude sparkling in her eyes.

“Thank you,” said Peter, perhaps unnecessarily, but old habits die hard.

The lady nodded in response and went back to stirring the pot in the kitchen. The quest was complete.

In the center of his field of vision, Peter received a message declaring as much, along with one noting the EXP points gained.

“Alright, let’s head back to the inn and get some grub and call it a night,” said Mr. Stark, holding the door open for him.

Behind them the lady did not acknowledge them at all, but began carefully ladling the contents of the pot into a cup. Peter wondered if somewhere inside there really was a little NPC girl the lady tended to day in and day out, forever trying to alleviate an illness she was created to suffer through.

As Peter walked through the doorway out into the night, he thought back to Aunt May. Back to when he always seemed to catch whatever bug was going around at the time. She may not be the best cook, but one thing she had down pat was chicken noodle soup. She would stand over a pot in the kitchen just like the NPC had, cooking up a big batch that he could easily heat up through out the day when he felt up to eating. Their finances being what they were, she and Ben could not always get out of work so easily, if at all. They did their best to schedule their work so one could be there with him, but sometimes the overlap just wasn’t quite there. Fortunately, a little old lady all the apartment kids called Nana lived a couple doors down from them and was usually content to be on call for kids who needed it.

He wondered what Aunt May was doing right now. Was she sitting beside his hospital bed, holding his hand, but he couldn’t feel it? Were they literally in the same room with each other, but worlds apart? Would she talk to him like she used to when she thought he was sleeping, hoping against everything that he could somehow hear her? What would she say? They had only just started finding their new normal when this happened…

He looked down at this hands, but all he could feel was the weight of the sword he still held.

Tears came, unbidden and unwanted.

If that bastard was going to lock them in this prison, the least he could have done was not code in visual emotion effects.

“Awww… look at the little boy crying,” mocked one of the players outside the inn as they passed.

“Don’t be an asshole, Derrig. You cried for two days straight when this shit started,” said one of his party members, while slapping the offender on the back of the head.

“You ok, Peter?” asked Mr. Stark quietly. “I would offer to go beat the shit out of that guy, but not sure if its worth a duel.”

“No, don’t do that. I’m alright,” said Peter. “Let’s just get up to the room.”

“You go on up, I’ll order some dinner to be delivered,” said Mr. Stark.

Peter nodded. They pretty much always ate in a room so that Mr. Stark could remove his helmet. Occasionally Peter wished they could eat with the other players, just to visit with someone else for a change. This wasn’t one of those nights.

Once in their room, Peter quickly removed most of his gear, leaving only his breaches and his tunic. The sword he placed on the table.

Apparently the sword was called ‘Anneal Blade.’

Peter fell back into a chair, letting his head roll back, closing his eyes.

In the real world, he would undoubtedly be able to hear every conversation going on in the rooms around them, as well as whatever hubbub was going on in the main room downstairs. But in here there was naught but silence. It had taken him a bit to get used to not hearing literally everything going on around him. He hadn’t realized just how much noise he was used to constantly filtering through in his day to day life until it was completely removed. He had thought he would love not having to deal with his extra sensitive senses, but come to find out it was pretty anxiety inducing to have them taken away, like an extended bout of sensory deprivation.

If only he had never put on that Nervegear. If he had told Ned that maybe they should wait until the next round of production of SAO to get into the game, let them get the bugs worked out.

Except…

The door opened, and in came Mr. Stark and two plates of whatever today’s special was downstairs.

“They were pretty busy down there, so I just brought it up myself. Figured I’d listen in on a pub talk a minute and see if any news has been circulating,” Mr. Stark said, setting down the plates.

“Did you hear anything interesting?” asked Peter.

“Not much. But one group did mention that there were some rumors floating around about a Log-Out point in a forest west of the Town of Beginnings. No one going in has come out alive though, and the Rat has been trying to get word out that the information is false and didn’t come from her,” said Mr. Stark, sitting in the chair opposite.

“Ugh, that sucks,” said Peter. “What’s the point in starting a rumor like that anyway?”

“Some people get their kicks in screwed up ways, kid. It’s as simple as that.”

The lapsed into silence as they ate their meal. But eventually Peter noticed Mr. Stark looking up at him.

“What?” asked Peter.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Peter swallowed and shook his head, “Not much to talk about. Was just thinking about Aunt May.”

Mr. Stark nodded, “I’m not going to say she’s doing fine, because we both know that’s probably a lie. But I will say that she’s a strong woman, and I know as soon as we get out of here she will be right there waiting for you with some awful attempt at baked food and the world’s longest hug.”

Peter gave a laugh as tears began to spring up again.

“You’re definitely right. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Look kid,” said Mr. Stark with a sigh. “I know you enjoy watching me squirm, but I would really appreciate it if you would switch to just ‘Tony.’ For one thing, there’s millions of Tonys in the world, but with the right info out there the name ‘Mr. Stark’ might become a bit suspicious eventually. We’ve just been calling me by my user name outside of our room, and that’s worked out alright, but eventually you might slip. And given my track record on secret identities, we should probably do everything possible to avoid scrutiny as long as possible.”

“Dude, you never had a secret identity. As soon as Iron Man became a thing you outed yourself on live television,” said Peter with a caustic tone.

“Whatever, my point still stands,” said Mr. Stark, waving off Peter’s remark.

“Does it though?”

“Yes, please, please start calling me Tony.”

“It really bugs you, doesn’t it?” asked Peter with a laugh. “Why?”

Honestly, when he asked he had expected Mr. Stark to blow off the question and change the subject. Because in the real world— back before the Decimation— every time they’d had this conversation and he had asked, that was ultimately what Mr. Stark did.

This time however, a tense silence met his question.

“Growing up, Howard was always ‘Mr. Stark.’”

There was a pause, as if he was unsure whether to continue, or how.

“Pretty much everyone on earth calls me ‘Mr. Stark.’ And that’s who they see— billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, wanna-be hero, narcissist, hedonist. That’s by design. It’s what everyone expected from me—being my father’s son— and I rose to the occasion. There’s only a handful of people who have gotten past ‘Mr. Stark’ and made it to ‘Tony.’ At this point, I’d like to think you’re one of them who has.”

Peter sat in quiet shock. Then slowly his heart filled up to the brim with something warm and sad, until he felt he could have burst.

There were a million things he felt, and only a few he could say. But only one he felt needed to be said right then.

“Ok… Tony. But I don’t want to hear you call yourself a wanna-be hero again. Because you are a hero. To everyone… but especially me.”

Tony didn’t reply for a moment, but eventually settled on a nod.

“Alright, deal,” Tony finally said, turning back to his food.

The got a few more bites in before Tony spoke again.

“I’m thinking of skipping on meals for a while. I’m kinda curious how long it takes to actually start feeling hungry in here.”

Peter looked at him confused, “What do you mean? You haven’t been hungry? Like at all?”

Tony blinked at him, “No, you mean you have?”

“Uh, yeah… several times a day usually.”

“Huh… maybe its because of your real world metabolism bleeding through. But no, haven’t felt it at all yet. Seems like a waste of Cor for me to buy meals if I haven’t actually been hungry,” said Tony, finishing up the last bite of his roast. “Not to say that its a wasted experience. They did a pretty remarkable job on this coding. But it would probably be better to save what money we can for now.”

Peter nodded, turning back to his own plate, but could only bring himself to push the food around a little, his stomach suddenly a bit queasy. Perhaps Tony was right, and it was just because of his RL body needs…

He’d talk to a few other players about their experience. Just to be sure.

“So, ‘Anneal Blade,’ huh?” said Tony, looking over the sword still laying on the table. He brought up its specs to analyze.

“Yeah, not exactly sure what the name is about. I mean, I know about the annealing process in biochemistry. I studied it a bit after the spider bite. But not sure how that would really apply to a sword,” said Peter.

“It was originally a process to remove impurities and harden iron for weapons. That’s where scientists originally pulled the term from that they used for the DNA process,” said Tony offhand, still reading through the sword’s numbers and looking it over in his hands. “The sword is as good as the guide implied. It should definitely hold up for you for a good while. Especially once I can start enhancements on it. Looks like we can attempt up to eight.”

“Does that mean we need to put a blacksmith’s forge on the shortlist?” asked Peter.

“Nah, I still have a few levels before we need to worry about that. Still, like I said, it is probably a good idea to start pinching pennies where we can. Jesus, I haven’t had to save money since that time my old man cut me off for a while back in college. This sucks.”

“Welcome to how the other 99.9% live,” said Peter, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Tony shrugged, “Karma is definitely a bitch.”

“This isn’t karma. You’re just a spoiled brat.”

Tony stuck out his tongue, just like the mature adult he was.

Peter laughed, “Exactly. I’m calling it a night. We good to head out in the morning?”

“Yup, heading west from here to grind a bit on some of the higher level forest mobs. We’ll see where we end up after that.”

Peter nodded. Where ever they went and whatever they faced, they would do it together. They’d make it through this.

Even without his spider powers and Tony’s money, they were still Spider-man and Iron Man. Kayaba couldn’t take that away from them.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [16/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

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

chapter preview: the school festival commences, yondu gets some horrifying news, and peter and gamora discuss what love means to them.

word count: 5889 | total word count: 118k

a/n: chapters 15 through 17, also known as the chapters where peter and gamora watch the entire original star wars trilogy. yay?

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Unfortunately for Gamora, ever since she and Peter had passed Natasha’s little test, it seemed as if her social calendar was filling up rather unexpectedly, the floodgates having been opened for Janet to bombard her with pre-prom all-girl events, including sleepovers, salon trips, nail appointments, and...dancing lessons.

“I have danced plenty with Quill,” Gamora had said hastily upon seeing Janet’s digital event spreadsheet (it was colour-coded). “Thank you, Janet, but I’ll pass.”

She had also somehow gotten roped into being on the set-up committee for the fundraiser festival. So, on Thursday evening, she found herself hanging up decorations, while secretly wishing she was back on the Milano, watching The Empire Strikes Back with Peter (“Gamora, this movie is perfection”).

“I heard you guys got your outfits all sorted,” Janet said cheerily. The two of them were stringing up white holiday lights around the quad, while the other volunteers were making signs, setting out tables, and checking the electrical wiring. “Have you decided on your hair and makeup yet?”

“Not quite, but I figured I could consult you for that,” Gamora replied. Janet beamed - clearly, it had been the right response. “I also have a little surprise in my outfit, for Quill.”

“Well doesn’t that sound sexy?” Elektra purred from nearby, where she was painting the banner for the kissing booth. “I have a thigh-high slit in my dress. Matthew always did like my legs the best. What’s your surprise?”

“Nothing like that,” Gamora said, annoyed. “It’s my shoes, actually.” She found the picture of said shoes on her phone and held it out for the other girls to gather around and see. Janet let out a squeal of excitement.

“Oh, he’ll love that,” she sighed. “It’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to the task at hand. “And your six-month anniversary is this week, isn’t it? You have anything fun planned?”

Gamora froze, her hands still in mid-air in an attempt to detangle a section of lights. How could she have forgotten? The two of them had buckled down on their relationship “timeline” recently, mapping out the trajectory of their breakup in the way they planned for missions. In her defense, it wasn’t like she had a colour-coded digital spreadsheet. Hell, the Guardians’ only semblance of organization was a shwarma receipt taped to their fridge door, with their grocery list written on the back of it. Instead of check marks, it had tallies - they couldn’t be bothered to make a new list every time.

“Quill has a surprise for me,” she lied smoothly, recovering. “I have no idea what it could be or when it’s happening, but I trust him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be romantic as always. Your trip to New York was super cute,” Janet gushed, wrapping up the last of the lights. “Nat told me Peter was constantly cheering you on during training. I think it’s sweet how much he adores your badass-ness. I mean, who wants to be with someone who can’t appreciate a girl for everything she is, right?”

“Hear, hear!” Elektra called, raising her paintbrush in victory.

Gamora, feeling particularly bold, decided to embellish a little more. Partially because talking about Peter had become second nature as of late, but also because Elektra was starting to irritate her. “Quill walked into a door when first saw me during a combat exam. He told me it was because he’d been amazed by what he saw, that he’d never seen a girl like me before. It’s...kind of sweet.”

“Kind of? That’s the cutest thing I’ve heard all week, and I heard Lucky sneeze this morning.” Janet stared at Gamora, scarily serious. “Do you know how cute dog sneezes are? It seems pretty clear to me that you and Peter were made for each other.”

Gamora turned away, fussing at another knot that didn’t exist, hoping the others couldn’t see the mixed emotions written across her face. Made for each other, she scoffed to herself. She had told herself, time and time again, that her chance at a normal life had ended the moment Thanos had first stepped onto her homeworld, ceased to exist when he’d grabbed her by the ankles and hauled her away from her parents’ bodies. The very notion of love - any sort of love, be it familial, platonic, or romantic - was laughable for a girl like her, a child raised as a weapon. And yet, here she was, at this academy that she never thought would exist in her lifetime, meant to house all sorts of heroes, anti-heroes, anti-villains, and reformed villains alike, living their lives of various degrees of heroism, sprinkled with “normalcy”, whatever that meant. So yes, maybe romantic relationships were in the cards after all, but she was still so unsure of whether it could ever happen with Peter.

She had fantasized about it, of course, the different scenarios that could come about. Combat practice that ended with her pinning him to the ground (as always), leaning in to peck him on the cheek for his troubles. Him attempting to pass her notes in class - he already did that every now and then, asking for help with a certain question, or to meet with him after school, but she could imagine him to be the type to write song lyrics that made him think of her. A post-mission adrenaline rush, resulting in frenzied kisses against his bedroom door before it became too much and not enough, her practically throwing him down on the bed, straddling him in an instant, wondering why Peter’s belt was too complex to remove within seconds. That last one had featured in Gamora’s mind more than once, that was for sure.

Aside from what she was sure to be just her own imagination running wild, what Gamora couldn’t picture was how they would deal with the more unsavory parts of herself, the thoughts that lingered on what she had done and the people she had done it to. Her first kill at the age of nine. Her first massacre at the age of twelve. Inflicting physical torture by thirteen, and psychological warfare by the time she was fifteen. Gamora was getting better at tackling them all on her own, of course. She wasn’t quite as “gloom and doom” as Nebula, she didn’t think about the inevitability of death the way that poor Bucky Barnes did, but sometimes there would be a twitch in her muscles, or a glimpse of a face in the crowd, that would take her back to “before”. Sharing a bed with Peter had helped combat the nightmares, but it was when she was awake that her brain decided to take her psyche and play. She wasn’t about to tell him any of that, knowing it would result in him hovering, prodding, and fussing like he always did. She didn’t need him to take care of her, and he knew that, but he would try anyway.

Gamora didn’t return to the Milano until late into the night, wondering if any of the Guardians were even there. It was always a toss-up between them sleeping on the ship or back at the dorms, though Rocket was usually the most consistent presence on the Milano, since his own night terrors led to him tinkering away at 3 AM. It was something they never talked about whenever they caught each other wandering around, bleary-eyed and trembling, too numb to speak. “Hello?” Gamora called out as she entered the common area.

Peter was sitting on the couch in the dark, the tablet in his hand being the only source of light. It left a soft glow around his face, highlighting the darkness of the bags under his eyes, the visible clench in his jaw. He looked oddly serious until he seemed to have registered the sound of her voice, his head snapping back up. His grim expression was instantly replaced with his signature grin. “Gamora, hey. Wasn’t expecting you back.” He quickly closed what it was he’d been looking at, though she could have sworn she saw a picture of her face on the screen.

“Thought I’d take my chances, see if you were here instead of the dorms. You’ve been spending a lot of time on the Milano lately, more than usual,” she commented. She considered sitting right next to him, but it felt too intimate when no one else was around to fill the space. She settled for the armchair instead. “Any reason?”

He patted the armrest he was draped over. “Milano’s my girl. She was out of commission for so long, I guess I wanted to keep her company, like she’s a sick pet or something. Is that weird? Yeah, that’s kinda weird.”

Gamora shrugged. “Not that weird. Your attachment to the Milano is to be expected, considering all you’ve been through with...her,” she acquiesced. “What were you looking at?”

Peter glanced back at the tablet in his hands, as if he had forgotten it was there. “Going through our Google Alerts, actually. Pepper set it up for me so I could keep track of our press. Lots of stuff about you and me, especially with that video of Groot.”

“You still feel guilty,” she guessed, eyeing the near-permanent crease between his eyebrows. “Quill, it’s okay.”

“It’s not that, not anymore,” he sighed, leaning back. “It’s more like, there’s a lot more people invested in our ‘relationship’ than I thought, and not just our classmates. When we started this whole thing, I thought it’d just be Janet and Kamala, because they love that kind of stuff. But there’s drawings of us. There’s couples recreating the kissing selfie from Central Park. I asked Cap about this yesterday, and he said he gets the same thing with him and Carter, that it’s all part of the job, but it’s still freaking me out. He told me not to look into something called...fan...fiction?”

Gamora wasn’t sure what he was talking about either, but moved to sit next to him and clasp his hands in between hers. “And it will pass once word of our breakup spreads. We’ve seen what the media is like in this world - fast, fleeting. We will be yesterday’s news before tomorrow’s headlines are even written.”

Peter looked down at their entangled fingers, squeezing. “Profound. I like it.” she pulled away after a moment of comfortable silence, shooting him that warm, almost flirtatious smile once again. He never really knew what to expect whenever she looked at him like that, or how he was supposed to interpret it. He chose to pretend Gamora really was flirting with him, that she was inviting him to flirt back. “What?”

“Janet reminded me that our six-month anniversary is this week,” Gamora replied. “I told her you had a surprise for me.” She stood, moving towards the hall. “Anyways, I’m going to bed now.” He was disappointed to see her hand coming to rest on the handle of her own bedroom door.

“Wait, what are we doing for our six-month anniversary?” he called. His stomach turned slightly at how legitimate it felt as he said it, like they had been actually dating for six months instead of faking it for three.

“Like I said. Surprise me.” She grinned before disappearing into her room, leaving Peter feeling slightly disgruntled, but mostly stunned. Well, damn.

______

The entire Academy seemed to have woken up earlier than usual on Friday morning, eager for a school-wide event that, for once, wasn’t some sort of invasion or fight. Not to mention the fact it also got them out of attending class - Janet van Dyne, everyone’s friend, the perfect event planner, and secret genius.

As it turned out, Peter and Gamora were the only ones on the Milano that night, which made him somewhat curious as to why she had slept in her own room instead. She only seemed to do it whenever the others pointed it out and embarrassed her, but with them being alone...Peter shivered a little. Okay, maybe she had a point. There was no telling how stupidly brave he would try to be if there was no one else around to mock him for trying.

Regardless, they had a relatively peaceful breakfast together, chatting quietly about their respective festival gigs, enjoying the lack of interruptions or teasing from the others. It felt like all the clichés in the world coming together for Peter when he admired the way the early morning light illuminated Gamora’s face, the red undertones of her dark hair more prominent than usual. And if Gamora was eyeing the scruffy bedhead that Peter was sporting, wondering if he would object to her running her fingers through it, he didn’t need to know.

“By the way, a group of us are playing a surprise show at the end. Don’t tell anyone,” she said, setting her spoon down into her empty cereal bowl. “Me, Drax, Adam, Barnes, and Gwen.”

“That sounds amazing,” Peter replied through a mouthful of Cheerios. “In the quad?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Janet’s got a couple cameras set up so she can film the show and put it online. Said it would be good for boosting the public’s perception of us, though she claims all the photos of our dates and the selfies that I’ve sent her are doing a fine job already.” She twirled the spoon around absent-mindedly. “I looked at some of the articles you talked about last night after I went to bed, and it’s even more than I realized. It’s honestly overwhelming how invested people are.”

“We’re a good-looking pair of badasses from space,” he shrugged. “In hindsight, not that surprising.”

“And so humble,” Gamora teased. “I suppose it sells better papers than Matt and Elektra. A law student and a socialite’s daughter is hardly worth anything beyond the society pages.”

After breakfast, they dressed and made their way to the quad, where it seemed as if every single student was currently bustling about, whether to help with last-minute setup, or to wait in nervous anticipation. Some students, like Nebula, had opted not to participate or volunteer, whether they were too busy, too lazy, or couldn’t be bothered (...like Nebula).

“Over here, Gamora!” Janet called cheerfully, gesturing for her to join Elektra and Colleen at their station.

“See you later,” Peter said, leaning in to kiss her without a spare thought. He was slightly alarmed to find Gamora also tipping her chin up in response to meet him halfway, an automatic movement on both their parts. Janet cooed in the background as their lips met briefly, before Gamora pulled away, biting her bottom lip in the way that made every thought evaporate out of Peter’s mind. He watched her leave, wondering when the careful calculation of every hand-hold, every kiss, had turned into second nature.

The fundraiser started off with a bang - literally, as Tony, Rhodey, and Pepper flew over the crowd, providing a light show with the use of their modified reactor beams - and the energy remained high throughout the day. Despite not being particularly close with Colleen or a big fan of Elektra, Gamora still found herself having fun with the other girls. Elektra especially was more endearing to her, once she stopped bragging about her and Matt’s exploits of both the hero and the sexual kind.

“I’m glad to see girls like us, with such terrible pasts, can be redeemed,” Elektra said privately to her during one of their water breaks. “But we must remember to never compromise on how powerful we truly are.”

“That’s a good way of putting it,” Gamora commented thoughtfully. “We still deserve a place to go home to, with people who love us, so we can love them and provide for them in return.”

“Which is why I hope Romanoff can see beyond her own past as well.” Elektra nodded at Natasha, who was standing across the quad, chatting with Clint. He was leaning against a tree, nonchalantly blowing bubblegum as he always was. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but he was apparently doing a good job of making her laugh. “She’s had her relationships with different kinds of boys on this campus, including a bit of a tussle with Matthew that I don’t appreciate, but there’s something about that weird one that has her captivated, even though they already didn’t work out. I confess I don’t understand.”

“He���s her best friend,” Gamora said quietly. “She probably trusts him with her mind and her heart more than anyone else. They’re both strong, in different ways, but they’re stronger together. He played an important role in her redemption, so her attachment was there from the start. She doesn’t want to know what life is like without him in it, and he came into his own full potential partially because of her guidance. It makes perfect sense.”

Elektra raised an eyebrow. “Honey, are you talking about them, or you and Peter?”

Gamora was unsure of how to answer, so her only response was to take another long drink from her water bottle. She found herself desperately wishing it was alcohol at this point.

Peter, meanwhile, was having a blast with Agent Coulson, whose fanboyish enthusiasm for all the various weapons that both Stark and Rocket had donated for their presentation couldn’t be contained. “You might be the only person who calls me Star-Lord consistently,” Peter told him.

“It’s a cool name,” Coulson replied with a shrug and an easygoing grin. “I wish I had an outlaw name.”

“Your name’s already pretty badass,” Peter said, smiling back. “Thor and his crew call you ‘Son of Coul’, like all the time. That’s already pretty cool.”

Coulson’s eyes widened. “Really? You think so?”

Peter patted him on the back. “Hell, yeah, dude!”

The other Guardians were enjoying themselves at their stations as well, with the exception of Nebula, who opted to walk around by herself and occasionally stop by Gamora’s spot to see if she was going to screw up (she hadn’t, of course). Rocket was giving engineering lessons to students wanting to get better at technology, Drax was challenging people to wrestle (though he drew the line at Hulk - he wasn’t stupid), and Yondu was putting on a “magic show” in which he drew caricatures of people using the yaka arrow. Mantis was using her empathic abilities to predict people’s futures with varying success, and yes, Groot was at the kissing booth, receiving cheek kisses and “ooh”s and “ahh”s of admiration from the majority of the student body.

Peter’s grin was so wide, he was sure he looked maniacal, but he couldn’t find himself to care. It was moments like this that left him in awe of the people had chosen to spend his life alongside - not just the Guardians, but everyone else who made being a hero so much fun. He could have never imagined a life like this after being abducted as a child, raised to be nothing more than a thief, and yet, here he was, living a life that was just so... good. Peter could imagine that Gamora and many others had felt the same way at one point in time or another, having lived in unspeakably abusive conditions with abhorrent people. He also hoped that they felt the same way he did about what this school was doing for them, what it meant to them.

He was broken out of his reverie when Gamora walked past him, and more surprisingly, with Nebula and Yondu in tow, Director Fury a few paces ahead of them. “Gamora? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though she looked distressed, lying through her teeth. At his knowing glance, she relented with a sigh. “I’ll tell you later if I can, okay?”

Once again, Peter found himself watching her walk away, though now his mind was racing with the possibilities of what a meeting with Fury could possibly mean for his friends. It was like he had jinxed himself, thinking about how good everything was going. Clearly, someone was about to deal them a hand that they weren’t ready to take.

______

“What’s all this fuss about, Director?” Yondu said, as nonchalant as could be. He and Nebula seemed to be having a contest on who could sit in their chair more obnoxiously, while Gamora opted to stand a little off to the side, arms folded across her chest. Fury let out a long sigh, though it seemed more world-weary than people-weary (and there was a difference), settling down on the other side of his desk into his leather office chair.

“It’s distressing news for the three of you. Disturbing, even,” he said, his voice somber. “I’d advise you against telling the others, but I have a feeling you’re probably going to tell Quill anyways. But don’t tell the kid, alright? Groot doesn’t need this kind of stress at his age.”

“What is it?” Gamora asked. Nebula sat up a little straighter, hands coming to rest on her lap. Yondu followed suit, the jovial humour in his eyes evaporating near instantly.

"Seems Thanos wanted to send a message.” Fury leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk, steely-eyed gaze fixed on Yondu. “Got one of them Black Order people - and I don’t know which - after your Ravagers.”

Yondu shot out of his chair in alarm, fists clenched. Gamora took a cautious step forward in case he was about to deck Fury. “You better be lyin’ to me, Director,” he hissed.

“I wish I was.” He was doing his best to sound authoritative, though there was an underlying tone of sympathy that told them how serious it had been. “Forty-five of your men killed, somewhere out in space. I got in touch with the authorities, see if I could find out more, but there’s not much I can do at the moment but wait for their reply.”

Gamora and Nebula exchanged looks over Yondu’s head as he sat back down, stunned. “My boys,” he whispered. He sounded as if he were a million miles away, or more accurately, wanted to be millions of miles away, with his crew. “This is all on me, ain’t it. Tryna be a Guardian, and I get ‘em killed.”

"This is our fault, Yondu, I’m...I’m so sorry.” Gamora reached to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Thanos wants to hurt Nebula and I by hurting you.”

“You two don’t care about me!” Yondu snapped, slapping her hand away and turning to shoot her an ice-cold glare. “You only pretend to ‘cause Quill keeps me around.”

“We do care,” Gamora protested, frowning. “Do you know how often I meet with Director Fury, trying to convince him that you and Nebula have done something, anything that could possibly get you both to finally come on missions with us? You’re part of this family, Yondu, with or without Quill. Do not insult me by denying that very notion.”

He glowered for another moment before slumping over, sighing. He turned to look back at Fury. “At least tell me Kraglin’s okay. That boy doesn’t deserve to be done in, just ‘cause I’m here.”

“He’s the one who contacted the authorities about the hit,” Fury nodded, relieved that the worst of Yondu’s anger seemed to have passed. “I’m sorry to tell you all this, but I figured this secret wasn’t mine to keep. Now, Thanos himself wasn’t seen or heard from at the scene of the crime, so it could just be him sending a message instead of doing the deed himself. Either way, we’re on high alert. I’m not about to get his hands on any of you kids. Especially not you two.” He wagged his finger at Gamora and Nebula. “You’ve had enough to deal with, living your whole damn childhood out with him. He’s not gonna get a hair on anyone’s head if I have anything to say about it, and I’m sure you feel the same.”

Nebula, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “I don’t have any hair on my head, Director. Same as you. But I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment.” She cast a glance over at Yondu, who was staring off into the corner of the room, gritting his teeth as if he were in pain. “Thank you for telling us.”

Fury couldn’t even hide his surprise, staring at her in utter confusion. “Alright, I’m kind of weirded out now. You kids go back to the festivities, and don’t let this spoil the rest of your day.”

______

It felt like coming home when Gamora picked up her guitar again, especially after the heaviness of Fury’s reveal. She played like her heart and soul depended on it, soaking in the enthusiastic (and a little off-key) sounds of her classmates singing along to words she had penned herself, every cheer and every clap driving her to push herself harder. What hit her most, however, was the unabashedly wide grins looking back at her. Despite the hardships that everyone had gone through to get here, they all looked so innocent in that moment, so unaffected by the looming horror that could approach them at any time.

The show ended soon after sunset, though the majority of the student population lingered in the quad, cleaning up and chattering excitedly about their favourite parts of the festival. Janet was flitting about as always, taking selfies with everyone and congratulating them on their various successes. Gamora, meanwhile, was dismantling her set-up when she heard footsteps behind her. I must really have it bad if I can tell who it is without looking, she thought, sighing.

“Hey, Quill. You enjoy the show?”

“You were awesome, as always,” Peter grinned, kneeling next to her so he could help with the complex wiring. “I love seeing you play. And it’s been a really long time, too.”

“Too long,” she agreed. “How about your demonstration? How’d that go?”

“Coulson nearly got me with the Destroyer once, but all he did was burn my hair a little.” He ran his fingers through his hair to show her a slightly singed chunk near his left ear. “No big deal, though.”

Finally giving in to the urge, Gamora reached over to ruffle it slightly until the burnt pieces were tucked out of sight. “I can help you trim that later, if you’d like,” she said softly.

“Sure,” Peter replied. “Hey, I was also thinking of watching Empire Strikes Back tonight, if you’re not too tired. We could head to the dorms instead? We helped raise a crap ton of money, we deserve to wake up without back pain.”

Gamora chuckled. It would be the perfect thing to keep her from letting the peril of Fury’s news plague her every thought. “I’m awake enough. As long as you help me pack up the rest of my equipment.”

He held out his hand almost immediately, pinky out for hers to loop with. “Deal.” She hooked their fingers together, eyes twinkling with mirth. Of all the things Peter had taught her about Earth, admittedly, she found this one to be one of the sweetest. A simple gesture he associated with his mom, now another thing that he shared with her.

______

Once again, Peter found himself distracted by the sight of Gamora lying by his side, cocooned in his sheets, watching the screen with the level of focus she usually reserved for combat. It was easy to tell by the concentration in her eyes that Gamora’s silence wasn’t out of boredom, but of engagement. Peter wondered if all the movies he’d been showing her before - romantic dramas and comedies, for the most part - were not for her. Instead, it was the adventures, the engaging characters, the world-building - that was the kind of stuff she seemed to love. The idealistic versions of their own world, things that reminded her of the happiest parts of their lives.

“You’re really loving this,” Peter commented as Yoda began training Luke. “I should’ve stuck to this stuff instead of the rom-coms. It’s more your style.”

“It’s not that I disliked the other movies,” Gamora said somewhat defensively. “It’s just...I’ve never really experienced romance, or romantic love. It’s hard to relate to something that I’ve never had.”

Upon hearing her confession, he began to wonder what she considered to be romantic. Her words implied that she based her understanding of romantic love off of what the movies showed her - Westley’s devotion to doing as Buttercup asked in The Princess Bride, Phil wanting to learn everything he could about Rita in Groundhog Day. Maybe he was wrong (and Peter found himself to be wrong more often than he’d like to), but it felt as if he were basically already doing those things.

When Peter had first met her, he would’ve joked that her idea of love was knives instead of flowers, and desired combat training in lieu of actual dates, but he knew her better now. He had seen her warm-hearted nature in equal parts to her fierce demeanor. She liked history, as evidenced by how immersed she had been on their “date” at The Met. She enjoyed nihilistic literature, and even though Peter didn’t understand it himself, he wanted to sneak a peek through her bookshelf and figure out what she already owned, so he could buy her more books that would make her happy. He wanted to sit by her side while she wrote songs, be her soundboard for lyrics that she couldn’t quite work out on her own. He wanted to hunt down every movie that he could hope to find that she would enjoy, so he could share as many evenings with her as possible, watching her expressions as she experienced them for the first time. And, in time, Peter wanted to help her on her journey that she never spoke about - rediscovering her home, her culture, her parents, in whatever way she could. There had to be something there, records, photos, videos, anything, that would make her feel like part of a whole again. Hell, he was incredibly gone for this girl.

Then, he got an idea.

“Question,” he said slowly after the movie was over. Gamora had ranted for a good ten minutes about the Darth Vader reveal, her face starting to redden as a result of it. She perked up a little, immediately recognizing the cue that had come to signal their incredibly long-standing game. “What’s romantic to you? Forget everything you saw in the movies, or out there with our classmates, or whatever else you’ve seen. What do you find romantic?”

She turned over onto her back, hands moving to absent-mindedly adjust her pillow as she contemplated the question. “I don’t need anything special,” she finally said. “Big gestures don’t impress me. That’s a sign of showmanship, not love.”

“Then what would be a sign of love to you?” Gamora tensed at this, wondering why Peter was looking so deeply into this particular topic. She could only hope that it was a precursor to something she’d been wanting, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. This was all just conversation, wasn’t it?

“It’s the small things.” Another memory of her parents appeared to her like an old home movie playing in her brain as she considered the displays of affection she’d witnessed in her life. Her mother, who was terrible at cooking, attempting to make her father his favourite meal. She had burnt it terribly, and Gamora herself had complained at the time, but her father had eaten it regardless with a wide smile on his face. Or her father, who wasn’t the most creative of minds, but had some of the steadiest hands, stretching new canvases so her mother could paint beautiful landscapes. “Like remembering my favourite food, or finding some odd knick-knack that reminds them of me.” Her eyes flickered over to where her utility belt was, laid across Peter’s desk chair, where the multi-tool was tucked away. She had found it to be mostly useless, and tricky to handle correctly without having to take pause in what she was doing, something she couldn’t afford to do in combat. However, it had become one of her most prized possessions, not that she would ever tell anyone that.

“So you’d object if they brought you flowers?” Peter pressed on, determined.

“It’s not like I’d throw them out,” she protested. “It just wouldn’t interest me as much. It doesn’t feel personal.” He nodded, thinking it over. Maybe this whole “giant-crush-on-his-best-friend-slash-fake-girlfriend” thing wasn’t going to leave him with a broken heart after all. There would be time, what with everything he had learned about her these past few months. “Question for you, then. If you had to choose between sex and love, what would it be?”

He laughed, startled. He had never known Gamora to think too much about sex, and he certainly didn’t blame her, considering the horrors she’d experienced as a child, with adults commenting on her attractiveness like it was normal. “They’re not always mutually exclusive, you know. I mean, some people don’t want to have sex at all, and some people don’t want to be in relationships at all, but I’ve never personally felt that way myself.”

“Let me rephrase,” she interrupted, her hand pressed firmly against his chest as if to stop another Peter Quill ramble. “What do you value more, sex or love?”

“Love,” he replied easily. As he expected, she looked rather surprised at his answer. “Sex is great - at least, in my opinion - but I think love is always more fulfilling. Love’s what drove me and my mom to take care of each other, for her to share all the pop culture she grew up on, and for me to enjoy every second of it. Love is what got me and Yondu to bond instead of fight, the way the Ravagers were hoping we’d do. Love is why I fight so hard to keep you guys alive, and safe, and happy. It’s what keeps me going every day, to get up in the morning and be like, hell yeah, I wanna kick ass with the people that are important to me so that other people can live their lives without fear. Y’know? And love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

Gamora bit her tongue before she could ask him to elaborate on the kind of love he felt for her. She was too afraid to know the answer, to hear what she was sure was true. “That’s quite selfless of you. I’m impressed.”

“You wound me every time you doubt me, Gamora,” he said seriously, though his stern face was ruined by a cheesy grin. His expression softened as the moonlight began to creep through his blinds, reflecting the silver on her face, illuminating her impossibly long lashes and the light in her large brown eyes. It was a face he’d been waking up next to so often as of late, a face he wanted to wake up to every day. But the spell could be broken at any time, couldn’t it? Not unless he did something, soon. “What’re you doing tomorrow night?” Peter whispered.

“Nothing, really. Why?”

“It’s our six-month anniversary, of course. I think I know what my surprise for you is gonna be. And it’ll be awesome.”

a/n: i'm still banging their heads together, trust me. but oh boy, next chapter will lead to some epiphanies i'm sure you guys will want to see ;)