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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

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All That Was Fair

Chapter 11: Busted on All Fronts

(Here’s the original mood board I made but decided to revise. And since I’m here talking but don’t usually put notes for my tumblr readers, I just wanted to say thank you all so so much for your continued support of the story!! It means a lot. Love to you all!)

Chapter Summary: Jamie receives an unwelcome surprise, then an accident sparks new discoveries.

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Chapter 11: Busted on All Fronts

***

When they arrived home that night, Jamie thought it likely that he’d end up carrying her inside again. He came around to her side, opened the door, and then gently shook her shoulder. She woke just enough to get out of the car, but the second Claire was on her feet, she was leaning into Jamie and twining her arms around his neck.

He wrapped his own arms, in turn, around her waist (just to steady her), and pulled her closer with forbidden longing tugging at his heart.

“Jamie?” she murmured.

“What is it, a nighean?”

She was quiet for a long second.

“Oh… nothing.”

That unsettled him a bit; he wanted desperately to know what her sleepy confession might have been, but he wouldn’t press her.

“Want me to take ye up tae bed, lass?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat as he made the suggestion. It was a completely innocent offer to carry her inside, but his mind couldn’t help drifting to the implications…

“That would be nice,” she mumbled against his chest.

So, not one to refuse his Sassenach any request, he lifted her off her feet and carried her inside.

Jamie was a stubborn man. He liked to think that meant he adhered to his principles, but Jenny always said it was just that he was hard-heided. Whichever it was, he insisted on putting her in the guest room— despite the evidence to hand that she wouldn’t be inclined to stay there.

He deposited her gently into bed, watching as she sleepily settled in. She was well and truly conked out, the sweet lass, and Jamie thought she just might be too tired to wake herself up and climb into bed with him. Perhaps tonight would be the night she finally managed to stay in her own room?

And that thought disappointed Jamie more than he cared to admit.

Flicking off the light and leaving her to her bed, Jamie headed toward his own room. He stopped dead in his tracks when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Real life. He’d forgotten nearly everything that day— caught up with Claire as he was. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, nor had he thought about work, which was expecting him the next day.

But there was no way he’d be leaving Claire tomorrow, no way in hell, so he whipped out his phone.

This time— not wanting to deal with Ian’s incessant questions (which surely would have only grown with the added day)— he simply shot him a text.

<<Sorry, brother, I need another day. I trust you can take care of things. Thank you for understanding.>>

That taken care of, he headed downstairs. First order of business: the pile of clothes and things were still in the car (his hands had been a little full of a certain faerie when he’d come in the house), and he groaned before heading outside. He scooped up the heap and then went straight back in, dropping everything carelessly on one chair in the living room. The little book at the very bottom of the pile lay forgotten.

Next, Jamie headed for some food.

Adso sat on his lap as he ate at the table, probably feeling a bit neglected. He made sure to give him plenty of attention with indulgent one-handed scritches. Guilt was starting to tug at him as he thought about the responsibilities he’d been shirking ever since he’d stumbled across Claire. The lass made him lose his damn mind when he was around her, and he hoped someday he’d actually get it back and be able to attend to his responsibilities again. The company would do fine without him for a few days, but they did need him. Eventually he’d have to break free of this bubble he was living in and return to his obligations.

He didn’t want to think about that, though. It was too painful to imagine explaining to Claire that he was leaving her for the day— her big, sad eyes as he walked out the door, leaving her upset and alone in the unfamiliar house…

Jamie actually shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the disconcerting thoughts.

Once he was properly showered and prepared for bed, he tossed his phone on the dresser face down and collapsed onto the mattress. It was only 10 pm, but he felt as worn out as if he’d been up for three consecutive days.

Sure enough, only minutes after Jamie settled into bed, Claire came padding into his room, rubbing at bleary eyes. She was like clockwork, his faerie.

He made no protestations this time. His earlier disappointment at the thought of her no longer wishing to share his bed deliciously ebbed away as she came toward him. Simply opening his arms for her, he rumbled, “come ‘ere, lass,” and Claire laid down beside him, resting her head on his chest and melting against him.

“Goodnight,” he whispered into her hair.

But she was already asleep again, breathing evenly, chest rising and falling against his side.

Jamie followed her shortly, ensconced in the warm contentment of having her, once again, wrapped in his arms.

Where she belonged.

Jamie woke abruptly the next morning to the incessant ring of his doorbell. Whoever was at the door must have lost their bloody mind, because the ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong was obnoxiously unceasing.

“Ifrinn,” he cursed under his breath as he shot out of bed.

Claire, startled into wakefulness by his body leaving hers, jolted upright and looked wildly around the room as if expecting attack.

“Stay here,” he told her as he darted from the room.

Stumbling down the stairs, trying to run his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair and blinking away the remnants of unconsciousness, he made his way to the front door.

“I’m coming, haud yer wheesht!” he called in frustration.

The ringing stopped just as he reached the door. When he flung it open, he was greeted with the sight of his sister Jenny standing on his porch, her arms crossed and eyes glaring daggers, and Ian lingering just behind her.

“What the devil are ye doin h—” he started, but Jenny interrupted him.

“What the devil am I doin? What the devil are ye doin!”

She shouldered her way past him, barging inside without a shred of social decorum. Her dander was clearly up. Jamie stood rooted in his spot, staring straight ahead, and Ian simply gave him a shrug. Then, his brother-in-law followed his wife inside, and Jamie was left to trail after them into his own house.

“I dinna recall invitin’ ye in, Janet,” he grumbled as he shut the door behind them.

Jenny was in no mood. “Four days and no’ a single word from ye? I’ve texted ye countless times, called ye even more, and ye dinna have the decency to let me know ye’re alive!” Her voice was raised in confrontation, and as she laid into him, her face grew redder with the heat of the upcoming battle.

Jamie tried to maintain his cool in the face of this tirade.

“I told Ian I needed some days off,” he said patiently, “besides. I am no’ a child, Janet. I dinna have tae tell ye where I am at all times.”

Ian chose that moment to jump in, which was probably good timing, because Jenny looked close to exploding at his response. “Where have ye been, Jamie?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Here. At home. Believe it or no’, sometimes people just need a break.”.

“Oh, is that so?” Jenny hissed, “Then why is Mrs. Fitz callin’ me up to inform me ye were shagging a lassie in her dressin’ room?”

Jamie threw his hands up in agitation. “Christ! I wasna doin’ anythin’!”

“But ye were wi’ a lassie?” Jenny demanded.

“Aye, but—”

“Christ, Jamie! Is she the reason ye disappeared?” Her roaring tone had fallen into one that was more exasperated and accusatory.

Jamie didn’t have an answer for her, mind grappling with how best to proceed— he clearly couldn’t tell her the truth about Claire, no way in hell she’d believe him. Jenny took his silence as a confirmation though, and her eyes blazed. He gave her a shrug.

This insolence was apparently the last straw for Jenny as she threw her hand up to stop him from speaking and averted her face in disgust.

“Who is she?” she asked in an even, low voice— one that indicated she would not tolerate anything but a straight answer.

“Jenny, she’s no one,” he said firmly, trying to infuse his voice with enough sincerity that his sister would take his word, “listen. She’s nothin’ but a fling. Somethin’ tae pass the time. I was feelin’ burnt out from work and… I jes’ needed tae blow off a bit of steam, is all.”

The whole time he was speaking, Jenny had been deflating. Her shoulders lowered from their confrontational set and the fire in her eyes was dying down. Ian, on the other hand, stood there with wide eyes, his jaw fallen open.

“Jamie,” Ian said, “I have never kent ye tae ‘have a fling,’ as ye say.”

“Well maybe ye dinna ken me as well as ye think,” was the first thing that came to Jamie’s mind to say. “Now, if ye’re quite finished interrogatin’ me about my love life and sticking yer neb where it doesnae belong, will ye please leave me tae have my day off in peace?”

He thought they were both so taken aback that they just might leave without a fight. His suspicions were proved correct when Ian, face tinted with the heat of shame, took Jenny’s arm and started steering her toward the door.

“Goodbye, Janet,” Jamie said pointedly as they stepped outside.

“Goodbye,” his sister said numbly as Ian pushed her in the direction of their car.

Resisting the urge to slam the door in her nosy face, Jamie closed and locked it. He still fumed from Jenny’s confrontation. The audacity. For her to barge into his house demanding answers, defaming his character…

He was just rounding the corner of the hall to head upstairs when he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of Claire, hand braced against the wall, eyes wet and shining with tears.

She looked up at him when he froze in front of her, and the expression on her face nearly ended him. Heartbreak, betrayal, sorrow— all glittered in those bonny whisky eyes.

“‘No one?’” she whispered, repeating his earlier words.

A tear escaped the corner of her eye and trailed slowly down the side of her face. The sight of it was like an arrow to the chest, and his heart leapt to his throat. The precursor to full blown panic.

For her part, Claire was completely motionless, save the slight heaving of her chest as she tried to keep herself in check.

Jamie reached out for her instinctively, but she shied away from his touch with a sharp step back, and his hand froze midair.

Oh God, never before had she done that.

“No,” he breathed, all the air punched out of him, “no, Claire, I didna mean that.”

“That was your sister, wasn’t it? She asked, her voice tiny but accusatory. More tears were leaking from her brimming eyes now, and Jamie was torn apart with longing to take her into his arms. “You told your sister I was nothing to you?”

She was angry, Jamie could tell. But it was the kind of anger that was a poor façade covering barely restrained hurt. Although she was standing firm in herself, her voice— and even her demeanor— seemed tiny. It was as if she was angry at him while at the same time wanting desperately for him to fix things.

“But it wasna true, mo chridhe,” he forced out, agonized to see the effect his words had on her, “I jes’ had tae tell her somethin’ t’ get her tae stop askin’ about you.”

“Because you’re ashamed of me?”

The breathy question rocked him to his core.

“No,” he shook his head forcefully, “no, mo nighean donn—”

“I can’t blame you,” she interrupted, and then her words came faster, “I just fell out of the sky and into your lap and ruined everything for you. Of course you don’t want to tell your family about the poor lost faerie you took pity on and—”

“‘Ruined everything’?” he repeated numbly, shaking his head again as his brain wrestled with that particular phrase.

“That is why they were here? You haven’t been seeing them? Or going to… what is it called?”

“Work,” he answered automatically, “but listen to me—”

She swiped a hand frustratedly over her face to clear the falling tears. She wasn’t listening to him, and Jamie desperately reached out and took her hand.

Claire tried to jerk it away, but he held fast. His fingers were insistent but gentle on her soft skin. Every part of him entreated her to just hear the truth and to know the depth of his heart for her.

“Listen to me, Sorcha,” he said firmly, “you havna ‘ruined’ anything. These past few days wi’ you… they’ve been the best days I’ve had in a long time. Maybe in my life. And I’m not ashamed of you. It’s jes’ that they dinna even believe in the fair folk, so it would be too much for them if I told the truth now. So I lied. Do ye hear me, Claire? I lied to them to stop their questions.”

She was still, looking up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She looked desperate to believe him, but was warring inside herself.

It shattered him to see what the overheard words— his words, ones he’d chosen to say— had done to her.

He had to make it right. He would. He couldn’t lose her over this.

“I’m so sorry, mo chridhe. Ye were never meant tae hear that, because it was not true. Ye mean so much tae me. And with time, I promise I will tell my family the truth. Please, Sassenach, believe me.”

The next few seconds when Claire remained motionless were the longest of Jamie’s life. His heart raced in his chest and the still silence weighed heavy on his bones.

Finally… finally… she gave a wordless nod.

Jamie let out the breath he’d been holding. He wanted desperately to reach out and smooth away the sad crease between her brows, to wipe away the tears and hurt and pain from her face. There were so many things he longed to do, but for the moment, he had to be content with having only her hand in his and her acceptance of his apology.

Claire had finally managed to form words, and looked up at him with her face set.

“I believe you,” she said quietly.

That broke all his resolve.

He bridged the distance between them and took her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m so sorry.”

So near he had come to the world dropping out beneath his feet. So close to driving her away with a careless misunderstanding...

But Jamie’s shattered heart was miraculously healed the moment Claire’s arms wrapped around him in return.

Forgiveness.

A sob almost burst from his chest, but he managed to restrain it. Instead, he simply embraced her more tightly, pouring out unspoken promises into the touch.

I won’t hurt you like this again. I won’t betray your trust. I promise I’ll tell them with time.

And as she squeezed him tighter in return, he knew she accepted them.

A short while later, Jamie found himself in the kitchen chopping vegetables for his lunch. Claire had asked him if she could take a shower, likely needing a moment to herself, so he’d taken her to the bathroom and turned it on for her before reluctantly leaving her to collect herself. His thoughts were spinning with regret and guilt, but every time he began to berate himself, he grounded his turmoil with the knowledge of her forgiveness.

He’d heard the shower turn off minutes ago and hoped Claire would be coming to find him soon, but he wouldn’t push her. She needed to come to him. If not, he’d let her have her space.

All of a sudden, the tip of the knife blade he was wielding sliced into his finger, having missed the edge of the tomato and glided straight into the skin of his forefinger.

He cursed as pain zinged through him and he dropped the knife. The blood was already beginning to well up, dripping onto the cutting board, and he quickly grabbed the dish towel and wrapped it around the wounded digit. It was nothing too serious, but still hurt like the devil.

Jamie was cursing under his breath when a voice came from the doorway. “Jamie?”

He whirled around to see Claire, standing across the room, her eyes wide with concern.

“Are you alright?” she anxiously asked.

The faerie had caught sight of the blood on the cutting board and all of a sudden was rushing toward him. Jamie didn’t even have time to tell her not to worry. She just took his wrapped hands in hers— with equal parts desperation and gentleness— and demanded, “what happened?”

“Dinna fash, it’s no’ but a wee scratch. The bleeding will stop in a minute,” he assured her.

She was studying his face with concern, eyes darting to the bloody cutting board and then back up to him.

“Let me see,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He hadn’t even given his consent before she started to unwrap the towel. With the loss of pressure, more blood came welling up from the cut. Heedless of the bleeding, though, Claire dropped the towel to the floor and wrapped one hand around his fingers, placing the other on top.

Jamie would have attributed what happened next to a blood loss hallucination if it wasn’t for the fact that he hadn’t actually lost all that much blood.

A glow of soft yellow light shone from between Claire’s cupped hands, and then a warm, tingling sensation began in Jamie’s finger. As the light from her palms grew brighter, the pain started to ebb, little by little. Jamie could hardly wrap his head around it, and simply stared down at their hands with wide, disbelieving eyes. After only another second, even the residual sting was gone. The glowing light died away and Claire removed her hands, revealing his finger— completely unblemished, with not a single hint of damaged skin.

Jamie’s mouth gaped open as he looked at her in astonishment.

“Ye…” his wits were gone and he had trouble forming the words, “Did ye—? Ye can… heal?”

Claire gave an offhanded shrug. “All it takes is a little concentration and energy,” she stated, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

Jamie was still dumbfounded. “I— eh… wow! Thank ye, lass,” he finally managed.

He was so blown away by her that his brain didn’t comprehend when she took his hand in hers and began gently rubbing it. There was no trace of injury left, but she still seemed troubled, and was stroking his hand comfortingly. Her thumb traced several times over the spot where the cut had been.

His slightly addled brain found her distress over him incredibly endearing. When she stooped down to grab the towel and began to gently wipe away the residual blood, Jamie simply stood still and allowed her to care for him.

Once she was finished cleaning off his skin, she looked up at him with a startlingly fierce expression on her face.

“You need to be more careful,” she said, “you had me worried.”

Jamie couldn’t help but smile. “Really, it was nothin’, lass. Besides, I have you tae patch me up now, it seems.”

Claire was not smiling. Her face was set in concern, brows furrowed as she gazed up at him.

“I won’t lose you,” she said softly.

“Oh, mo nighean donn, ye wilna lose me.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, demonstrating its capability, “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

***

#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae!claire

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dangan-nebula-edits · 2 years

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ACE!! Hello! I haven’t talked to you in so long oh my gif I’m so sorry :(( just know I think about you all the time jsnemne. Could I request some romantic academia Chiaki Nanami wallpapers? I just got a new phone so I have no clue what the dimensions are, but it’s an iPhone X is that helps! Thank you neb rjfnsnf <33

OMG I ALMOST SOBBED WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY INBOX TYSM MYS YOURE SO SWEET💜💜

It’s been so long since we’ve chatted, I miss you sm Mys!! I hope that you’re doing amazing, and it’s so awesome that you got a new phone ✌️☺️ Your message absolutely made my day, and holy moly I rushed to my editing software the second I saw the request~ Chiaki AND romantic academia????! Count me in!!!

These were so much fun to make and def helped spark my motivation to edit again! You can find the wallpapers here~ Please lemme know if you’d like anything changed!

So yeah, I’ve been inactive for a bit due to tons of school stuff and art projects not leaving enough time to make edits…sorry about that! Anyways, I’m hoping to get to the requests in my inbox sometime soon, but I might be working at a bit of a slow pace 😅

Thanks again for requesting Mys!!! I hope you enjoy the wallpapers and that you have a great day! 💜

- Neb 🌟

#🌟neb chatting🌟#🌟not an edit🌟#🌟request complete🌟#🌟neb answers🌟#🌟chiakiitten🌟#🌟nearby galaxies neb’s friends!🌟

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harvestleaves · 5 years

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Out of Breath

A/N: This was not requested, I just wanted to write whumpy Will with concerned Connor. And in this fic, we’re ignoring that Connor left because I wanted him to butt heads with Crockett!

Summary: Will is stressed out from work and Connor finds him in the beginning stages of an asthma attack.

Rating: T for Connor’s language towards Crockett

Word Count: 1,419

Will groaned as he reached up to rub the side of his head when another throb hit, squeezing his eyes shut at the tension headache that had been slowly building throughout his shift. He had been overstressed the last few days, and Connor had, on more than one occasion, tried to get him to take naps midway through his shifts, knowing that too much stress could cause his boyfriend’s asthma to act up. Will was really regretting brushing off Connor’s suggestion of a nap that day in particular as he brought his coffee up to his lips, hoping the caffeine would relieve the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Will winced and turned to look at Connor when he felt a gentle hand on his lower back move to loop around his waist and pull him into a gentle hug.

“Will, you look awful. You should go lay down for a bit. I don’t have any surgeries, I can keep an eye on your patients for a while,” Connor whispered into Will’s ear as the other laid his head onto Connor’s shoulder and nuzzled his face against his boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m fine, though. Just lemme finish this coffee, and then I should be ready to get back to work,” Will mumbled softly, a small wheeze trailing his words as he picked his head up to look at Connor, humming at the fingers that ran through his hair.

“No can do babe. You’re going to lay in here and get a nap while I look over your patients. Have you taken your inhaler yet?” Connor asked, tilting Will’s chin up to get a better look at him, wincing at the ragged breaths that the other was taking.

“Y-yeah, I took it right before you came in. It didn’t really help though,” Will wheezed out with another cough as he pressed closer to Connor.

“Okay, just relax. Let's get you to a room, and I’ll set up a breathing treatment. I don’t like the sound of that wheeze of yours.”

Connor adjusted his hold on Will before leading him out into the ED to find the closest empty room, easing him up onto the gurney once he’d found one. Grabbing the nasal cannula, Connor slipped it onto Will’s face before he turned up the oxygen and hooked the other up to a pulse-ox, frowning when the monitor showed his boyfriend’s oxygen level was at 90.

“Your oxygen level is at 90, not awful, but obviously not where we want it to be. I’m going to go grab some nebulizer materials and have Maggie start-up a chart for you. I’ll be right back, okay, babe?” Connor cooed softly as he leaned down to press a kiss to Will’s forehead as he ducked out of the room, making his way to the central desk.

“Maggie? I’ve got a new patient in room 15 with an asthma attack, can you get a chart started up while I grab the neb supplies?”

“Of course. Where’s Will, shouldn’t he be taking care of the new ED patients?” Maggie asked as she looked up from the computer with a raised eyebrow, scanning Connor’s face for any signs of lying.

“Will is.....well, he’s actually the patient. I just want to keep this under wraps for right now, he doesn’t want to worry anyone,” Connor explained as he ran a hand over his face in exhaustion, his worry for Will having kept him up as well for the last few nights.

Maggie’s eyes widened in surprise at Connor’s words before her face softened, and she nodded. “I’ll start his chart and get his vitals. You go get the meds, then I’ll call for respiratory. Then I think you need to sit with Will, not as his doctor, but as his boyfriend, I can have Dr. Marcel take over as his doctor, you need to just sit there and be with him. Got it?”

Her voice made it clear that Connor was not supposed to argue with her, and he gave a small nod before going to the supply room. He gathered the nebulizer equipment as well as the albuterol before he headed back to Will’s room, noticing that Crockett had now joined Maggie and was listening to Will’s lungs with a frown.

“Hey, I’ve got the meds for his lungs. How’s he doing?” Connor asked as he handed the supplies to Crockett before moving to sit in the chair next to Will’s bed, reaching out to squeeze the hand that didn’t have an IV in it.

“His lungs are really tight, and apparently, your boy has been out of breath the last few days. That, plus whatever stress he’s been under, is a recipe for an asthma attack. Something he should’ve been aware of,” Crockett stated with a stern look to Will, the redhead blushing sheepishly, as he slid his stethoscope back around his neck. Setting up the nebulizer, Crockett handed Will the misting mouthpiece before he turned to Maggie. “Page respiratory, then I want to examine his chart, see if his long-term meds need to be adjusted. Thank you,” he smiled at Maggie as he took his gloves off before turning to Connor and nodding to the hallway.

“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Dr. Marcel for a minute, I’ll be right back, okay hon?” Connor pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek before ducking into the hallway behind Crockett, raising an eyebrow at the other in confusion.

“So, how long has Will been feeling off? I heard it from him already, but I just wanna make sure this is because he’s stubborn and not because his boyfriend blatantly ignored the signs of an oncoming asthma attack,” Crockett stated with a firm glare as he turned to look over Connor, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me right now? You think that I would deliberately ignore the warning signs of an asthma attack? In my own boyfriend? This is bullshit,” Connor snapped, shocked that the other man would even think that he was capable of something like that.

“Hey, you’ve been stressed out too with cases, plus your father’s passing. I wouldn’t blame you if you missed something like this. We all get overwhelmed and sometimes it clouds our judgment. I’m just making sure this doesn’t happen again and that he won’t be on another neb in the middle of his shift due to stress. Excuse me for being worried about my patient,” Crockett frowned, holding his hands up defensively at Connor’s sudden anger.

“First things first, I would never ignore the symptoms that my boyfriend is feeling unwell. And with all due respect, you have absolutely no right to assume that I would do such a thing. You can treat Will, but stay the fuck out of our relationship when you know nothing about it,” Connor snapped as he took a step forward, taking a slow breath through his nose to calm the anger in his body.

“Okay cowboy, calm down, I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I understand that he means a lot to you, but I was just looking out for his wellbeing, I know you would do the same thing in my position. I’m sorry for implying that you don’t care about your boyfriend when you obviously do,” Crockett apologized as he reached out to set a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder, hoping the action would soothe the other man.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for lashing out, I’ve just been trying to get him to take a break the last few days. I guess when I saw him having the attack, I started to blame myself for not realizing sooner and when you accused me of it, I snapped,” Connor admitted, running a hand over his face as he finally let his guard down, blinking back a few tears as the worry for Will overtook him.

“Hey, your boy is going to be okay because you made quick work to get him treatment. Tell you what, you head back in there and spend some time with him, and I’ll be back with some coffee for you when I come ‘round to check on him again. Deal?” Crockett offered, reaching a hand up to wipe a stray tear from Connor’s cheek.

“Now, dry that pretty face of yours and head back in there. He needs you. And just so you know, I’m here too....if you ever need someone to talk to.”

Request

Masterlist

Read on AO3

#chicago med #rhodestead #will halstead #connor rhodes #crockett marcel #one chicago #chicago med fanfiction

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nameless-kin-cafe · 4 years

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One more from me (Neb) just to help start you off and give each of you smth to do! Can I also get a moodboard for a typeswap Gordie (swsh) with hints to being an electric type gym leader, hints to Milo whom I was with, and general Gordie cool guy vibes or food stuff? Thanks a bunch again! @mallowcore

Posted!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope this is to your standards!

#mod blue 💙#this is what kanto's top level trainer can really do! 💙

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fairytalefragments · 4 years

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👉👈 Starting you off with an aesthetic for Cassandra (tangled), who was half role-swapped with Eugene (meaning like, some major plot stuff in the movie/show was me instead but the story + our lives before were mostly the same and he was still there), who was dating Rapunzel, and enjoyed stargazing!! 💙 (Fun facts; I had some magic residue from what happened that left me with a little blue in my hair & eyes but you can leave that out!) — Good luck and have fun!! I know you can do it 🤍 •Neb•

༄ | Posted!

✦ Hi Neb!! thanks so much for sending in the first request for the new blog! and such a good one too!! Cass is so important to me, both as Rapunzel and in general, i love that canon lesbian!! and i hope you like the aesthetic! thank you so much again for requesting and for the good luck wishes! ily have an amazing day!!

༄ Mod Story 🍀

#ask #anonymous #happily ever after

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mischiefandspirits · 5 years

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Iron Legion (7/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daddy's Home

Tony Stark was thirty-four when Iron Man was born.

Tony smiled as a chorus of voices answered his call. “Hey, kids, you all having fun in the country music state?”

“Have you been having fun?” Nebula asks with a knowing voice and Tony hates how much her and J.A.R.V.I.S. gossip. None of his kids needed to know what he does in his bedroom when they’re not home. Or who he does.

“Daddy! Daddy look! I had Harley and Valeria cut my hair!” Teresa said, stealing the phone away for herself so she could show him her new look. “I look just like you now!”

“Yeah, Tori sent me pictures, Resa,” Tony chuckled, remembering the panic-filled text that had come with them. Honestly, the kid was eight. If she wanted her siblings to shear off her hair, who was he to care.

“I’m taking her to a barbershop tomorrow to have them clean it up,” Nebula said, grabbing the phone from her sister.

“Nebs said they’ll make me look even more like you!” Teresa shouted and he could see her hand grabbing at the phone.

“I’ll have to show you how to style it right when I get back,” Tony said, leaning back.

“Is Uncle Rhodey there?” Harley asked, jumping onto Nebula’s back.

“Get off me shrimp!” the teen huffed, shoving him off, but not before losing the phone to her brother.

“Hey, I’m taller than Teresa!”

“Am not!” came Teresa’s argument.

Harley’s face appeared, far too close to the screen. “Is Uncle Rhodey there?”

“Well don’t I feel loved,” Tony pouted. “I call to talk and all I get are questions about Rhodey?”

“Yup.”

“You spend too much time with your mother. No respect.”

“Dad,” Harley whined, elongating the a.

“Nope. You can talk to him when we get back.”

That made the boy perk up. “You’ll be back in time for my birthday, right?”

“Of course! As soon as Rhodey and Dad are done playing with the new toys Rhodey’s friends are buying then we’ll be straight there.”

“Speaking of birthdays, what did you get Aunt Pepper for hers?” Nebula asked, shoving Harley’s face away and giving her father a knowing look.

“No idea, but I hear it was nice.”

“Daddy forgot again,” Teresa giggled and then all three of them were laughing at him.

“This is why Jay’s my favorite.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“What are you all doing up? ” came Tori’s voice.

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” Tony said.

“Yeah, you.” She took the phone and gave him a glare. “Do you know what time it is here?”

“Late?” Tony offered.

“Very. Kids, say goodbye to your father.”

“Bye, Daddy! Love you!” Teresa yelled while her brother shouted, “Bye, Dad. Tell Uncle Rhodey I said you guys need to hurry back!”

“I don’t have a bedtime,” Nebula pointed out.

“You do here,” Tori said, handing her the phone.

“I’m not a child,” Nebula huffed before turning to Tony. “Goodnight, Father.”

“Night, Nebula. Try not to drive Tornado too insane with your teenage angst schtick. That’s my job.”

Nebula snorted and shook her head. “Be safe.”

“Don’t worry. We’re just showing off the Jerico to the brass.”

“Tony!”

“Looks like we’re landing. I’ll call you when we’re headed home. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Got a family?”

“Yes, and I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?”

A man with a heart of gold that had somehow managed to put up with Tony’s nonsense since they were teenagers. A bodyguard who put up a grumpy act, despite being rather soft. A woman that embodied the term mother bear. A fiery redhead that happily put him in his place. An alien who had recently taken to wearing a silvery-blue pixie cut wig and had hacked her mask so she could add dark makeup to the disguise. A pair of bots that were always in the way and never listened. A snippy UI that refuses to call him anything but Sir. A little girl that left LEGOs all across the house and wanted to be just like her daddy. A boy who was just as contrary as his mother. A little girl who wasn’t his, but that only meant he got to be the fun uncle instead of a responsible parent for once.

A whole group of people he would do anything to protect.

“Nothing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are the kids?” Tony asked as soon as they’d left the base.

“They’re thrilled to know you’re back. None of them really handled your disappearance well. We kept them at Tori’s since Obidiah’s come sniffing around your house a few times. I kept him out since you hadn’t been declared dead, but we didn’t want to risk him finding them alone. Teresa and Nebula will be here tomorrow. It would have been sooner, but as I thought you would be in the hospital, I figured it would be better to wait,” Pepper said, her voice sharp at the end.

“I wanna talk to them.”

This, at least, Pepper didn’t argue.

“Keener residence,” a male voice answered.

“Hey, Richards. Where’s your cousin?”

“Shit, Stark, you really are still alive?”

“Nice to hear from you too.”

“Who is it?” Tori asked, voice distant.

“Stark.”

“What the- Give me that!” There was a shuffling sound then Tori’s voice came through clearer. “Tony, thank God you’re alright! How are you? I thought Pepper said they were taking you to the hospital.”

“She lied. I’m fine. I want to talk to the kids.”

“Of course. Harley’s at school right now, but the others are here. Frank, get the kids, please.”

“Cousin cowboy come over to complain about me again?” Tony asked, tucking the phone between his shoulder and cheek so he could adjust his arm into a more comfortable position in the sling.

“Oh shut up. You know Frank likes you, he just…”

“Thinks I should have married you instead of that trash you won’t let me track down.”

“You both need to let that go. I just want to forget about him.”

“But if we do that then Franky and I won’t have anything in common. It’s the only thing we agree on.”

“Why Mr. Stark, was that a proposal?” Tori sighed, exaggerating her accent.

Tony held the phone out to Pepper. “Give that back to me when the kids get on the line. I shouldn’t be dealing with this kind of emotional trauma after what I just went through!”

She ignored him, continuing to work on her phone to set up the requested press conference.

He put the phone back to his ear. “I thought I asked for my kids.”

“They’re coming. Frank had to go fetch them from the barn. Harley and Teresa have turned it into their personal workshop so Nebula and her have been using it for school time. It’s got the best internet speeds on the property. Hell, probably the best in the county.”

“I’m so proud,” Tony said, and he definitely wasn’t tearing up.

A loud crash sounded from over the phone, accompanied by, “DADDY!”

“Teresa, hold on and -” Tori cut off with a yelp.

“Daddy!” Teresa yelled right in his ear before continuing in a softer voice littered with sobs. “Daddy! Are you okay? Aunt Pepper said the bad guys took you and the news kept saying you were probably dead, but Aunt Tori said you were too stubborn to die and Nebs and Jay couldn’t find anything even when they hacked into Uncle Rhodey’s work computers and -”

“Woah, hey, Resa, it’s okay, baby girl. I’m alright. I’m here,” he said calmly, putting aside the fact that his daughter and AI apparently hacked into likely classified military files for the moment. “I’m okay. I’m with Aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy right now. We’re going to go talk to those mean news people right now.”

“I thought Aunt Pepper said you were going to the hospital,” Nebula said with an annoyed growl.

“Stark, you better be on the way to a hospital right now!” Tori snapped.

“Resa, did you turn daddy on speakerphone?” he groaned, letting his head fall back.

“I thought you would want to talk to Nebs too, sorry.”

“Stark, if I call Pepper, she better tell me that you are either in perfect health or headed to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” Tony said and Pepper looked up at him to give him a look before turning back to her work.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. and I saw your medical files,” Nebula cut in.

“Good, then you know the Air Force guys already fussed over me. Also, you two need to stop hacking the government.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tori snorted. “Who do you think taught them behavior like that?”

“Go to the hospital, Father. You are -”

“I’m fine. All I need is a cheeseburger.”

“I’m calling Pepper.”

Tony rolled his eyes and turned on the speakerphone. “Pepper, Tor-Tor wants to talk to you.”

“I tried,” she said before Tori could speak. “He refuses to do anything before getting a cheeseburger and holding a press conference.”

“Take him to the hospital after.”

“I’m fine! Can any of you hear me or am I talking to myself?”

“I can hear you, daddy!”

“Thanks, Resa. You’re the best!” Tony looked over to see them approaching Burger King. “Oh look, the cheeseburgers await. Nebula, Resa, I'll see you tomorrow! Give your brother my love! Love you, girls! Bye!”

“Bye, daddy! See you tomorrow! You better be there!”

“Father -”

Tony hung up the phone and handed it back to Happy.

A few minutes later Pepper smiled and showed him a text she had received.

⭐️Nebula⭐️: J.A.R.V.I.S is calling up the doc. If he wants to act like a child, we’ll get him a pediatrician.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So this is what you call fine?” Georgia sighed, staring at the thing embedded into Dr. Stark’s chest.

“No, this is what I call an antique.” He held up a device that looked the same. “This is an upgrade. I need some help putting it in. Since you’re here anyways…”

She crossed her arms. “You know that’s not why I’m here. I read the files Nebula sent me -”

“Yeah, yeah, send me the diet plan or have Pepper pick up the meds or whatever you all seem to think I need despite the fact I’ve said I’m fine over a hundred times. Now, can we do this? The kids will be here in an hour and I’d rather not have an empty hole in my chest when they get here.”

“I’m not that type of doctor.”

“Well, my hands are too big and I think Pepper might pass out if I ask her.”

“I might,” Pepper agreed, looking pale at the idea from where she was standing next to the door to the workshop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mom says you’ve got a battery in your chest! Can I get one too?”

“Why hello Harls. Yes, I missed you too. Sorry for missing your birthday. I love you so much.”

“Mom said you were fine. And if you’re really sorry, you’d put a battery in my chest.”

“I was kidnapped,” Tony said, and yeah that was probably not something to tell an eight-year-old, but Harley was tough and it wasn’t like he was going to bring up the torture. “Why do you even want a battery in your chest?”

“To charge things.”

“Yeah, ask your mother.”

“That’s what you say when the answer’s no, but you don’t want to be the one to tell me.”

“But if you know that, then that means I am telling you no.”

“Come on, isn’t it your job as an absentee father to spoil me?”

“Key word is absentee, meaning not there, which means no, an absentee father’s job is to not be in their child’s life at all. I’m in your life, so not an absentee father.”

“You know what I meant!”

“And you know what I meant when I told you to ask your mother. So how’s school going?”

“How’s the business going?”

“Fair enough. Want to play that online racing game you like?”

“You’re on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy!”

Tony groaned and brushed fire retardant off his face so he could look up at his daughter. “Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing in here? You know to stay behind the glass when I’m testing things.”

“You hit a wall,” she said blankly. She reached her hand over and started feeling around his head. “I have to check for bumps.”

“I’m fine,” he sighed, but didn’t fight it. He knew if he did then she’d hold it against him the next time his clumsy girl fell and he needed to check her over.

Once she was done, she stepped back and tilted her head. “Why did Dum-E spray you with the foam? Did you catch fire again?”

“No, Dum-E is being silly.”

She crossed her arms and turned to Dum-E. “Don’t waste the extinguisher,” she reprimanded, slowly pronouncing the word extinguisher.

The bot’s arm fell as he gave a sad beep.

U rolled up, showing the camera they were still holding to their favorite sibling.

She smiled and patted their claw. “Good job, U.”

Smiling at his kids’ antics, he stood up and started wiping off the rest of the foam. “Alright, next time we need to start at a lower power. And stabilizers. Those would help.”

“What are you making?” Teresa asked, leaning over to look at the boots.

“Special secret project. Don’t tell Pepper.”

She nodded without question.

Why couldn’t all his children be so well behaved?

“Can I help?” she asked, bouncing.

He shrugged. “Sure. You and Jay can run some numbers while I work on the next piece.” Most of the equations would be over her head, but J.A.R.V.I.S. would give her a few that were her level and a few above for practice. The workshop was the best place to learn, in his opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful, careful, and touchdown,” Tony cheered as he landed in the workshop.

“Very good, Sir.”

“Can I get one?”

He turned to see his daughters, the younger sitting on the back of the couch while the older was leaning against it. Teresa waved, her legs swinging, and Nebula studied him, her head tilted in that way it did when she was talking to J.A.R.V.I.S.

He lifted the faceplate and frowned at them. “What are you two doing in here? You know you’re not allowed in the workshop while I’m not here. Do the rules not mean anything anymore? Did Jay let you in?”

Nebula pointed a blue thumb at the missing glass wall.

“Right.”

“Daddy!” Teresa chirped, hoping down and running up to him. “You look so cool!”

“Thanks, Sunray. Now step back so daddy can change.”

She eagerly did so, gasping when the arms rose up to remove the suit.

Nebula walked around to face him, crossing her arms. “I thought Stark Industries was out of the military business.”

“We are. I was just… doing a bit of cleaning up.”

She hummed, but didn’t say anything and he caught her staring at the blast-mark on the faceplate.

“Nebula -”

“I want one of those,” she said, pointing at the repulsor on one of his gauntlets.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

The two stared each other down before Tony sighed. “We’ll see.”

One of the arms tugged a little too roughly on his leg.

“Careful!”

“Apologies.”

“Hey! Ow!” Tony said, giving a yelp.

“Ooh. It is a tight fit, Sir.”

He let out a hiss, pulling away from the one yanking on his arm. He saw Teresa take a step towards him, but Nebula stopped her.

“Sir, the more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt.”

Tony considered making a joke, but thought better of it when he remembered Teresa.

“I designed this to come off, so- Ow! Hey!”

“Please, try not to move, Sir.”

“What's going on here?”

The three turned to see Pepper standing just inside the workshop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nebula frowned when her music suddenly cut off. She tapped her head with a frown. “J.A.R.V.I.S., what’s going on?”

There was no response.

She tried to reach out to the intranet, but only received static. She narrowed her eyes and quietly slipped off her bed. The only reason the intranet would be down is if someone was using something to disrupt the signal.

She slipped her mask on and activated it so she could see, but didn’t bring up the disguise. She snuck out of her room and to Teresa’s door. When she opened it, her sister was curled up, half asleep.

“Nebs?” she yawned. “I’m s’eeping.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. isn’t responding. Go into your closet and seal the door. Take your phone.”

Her eyes widened and she stumbled out of bed. “Daddy?”

“I’ll find him. Just go.”

She bit her lip, but nodded and grabbed her phone off her nightstand. Nebula waited until she heard the locks in the closet door engage before continuing down the hall. Her father’s room was empty so she headed into the living room.

“I wish you could've seen my prototype.”

Nebula frowned at the voice that was both familiar and not. She knew of Obidiah Stane, but they’d never met and she had never planned to do so. She wasn’t fond of how he tried to control Father’s life, to say the least, and she certainly understood Father's reasoning to keep her and her siblings a secret from the man.

“It's not as, uh — Well, not as conservative as yours.”

She peeked around the corner and her fists clenched.

Stane sat on the couch next to her father, one man with a briefcase on his lap and the other with a whole in his chest.

She had never wanted to put her assassin training to use on Terra before.

This man changed that, with his next words only increasing that urge.

“Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would have preferred that she lived.”

Her arm let out a series of clicks as it shifted to reveal the repulsor Father had placed inside it “for emergencies only.”

She stepped out as the man walked away from Father and took a shot. Unfortunately, she wasn’t expecting the recoil and the shot flew high, just missing the man’s head.

“That was a warning shot,” she bluffed, taking aim again. “On your knees and I might not tear you to pieces.”

Stane stared at her with shook. “Well now, Tony. It seems you’ve been hiding more than I thought. And what does he call you? You’re certainly a step up from those rust buckets he insists on keeping downstairs.”

“On your knees.”

“I don’t think so.” He pulled a gun out from behind him and she froze as he pointed it at her father. “You lot have one thing in common, you won’t let any harm come to your creator. That bit of his neediness always comes through. It’s pathetic.”

Her fingers twitched to wrap around the man’s neck, but she let the repulsor tuck away and dropped her arm. “You will die for this,” she growled. “Enjoy what little life you have left.”

“I think you should be more worried about what little life he has left.” Stane slowly made his way out of the room, keeping the gun pointed at Father the whole way.

When he slipped out the door, she ached to take chase. She resisted though, rushing to her father’s side. Her hands hovered over the place the arch reactor was meant to be uncertainly. “What do I do? How do I help you? I don’t…” She looked around for the reactor before realizing Stane must have taken it with him. She reached for her arm. “Will the mini reactor work?”

“Nnn,” he slurred. “D’ns’s.”

“What did he do to you?” she hissed. He shouldn’t be this out of it this quickly just from having the reactor removed.

Carefully she picked him up and carried him down to the workshop. Immediately U and Dum-E were at her side, beeping frantically. With the intranet still disabled, though, she couldn’t understand them.

“Stane attacked Father. He removed the reactor. We need to figure out how to help him.”

U went to a bench to clean it off for her, but Dum-E went crazy, spinning around and chirping before darting away. Ignoring her brother, she went to the bench and gently set him down.

Suddenly Dum-E was at her side, shoving a glass case in her face.

“Stop it, you -” She cut off as she realized what was in the case: her father’s original reactor that Dr. Jenkins had removed with the words Proof Tony Stark has a heart carved around the rim. She laughed and pressed her forehead to her brother’s claw before smashing the glass between her hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m coming with you!”

“No, you’re not.”

“He attacked you!”

“Which is why you’re staying here. Protect your siblings.”

“But -”

“Take care of Teresa. Rhodey, keep the skies clear.”

“Father!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The truth is… I am Iron Man.”

Teresa didn’t hear Nebula groan on the other couch or Harley start yelling on the phone. As the reporters on the tv started shouting, all he could do was stare wide-eyed at his father with pride.

#tony stark #peter parker #nebula #iron family #iron man movie

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nunonabun · 6 years

Text

The Family Look [1/2]

Steaminess will return tomorrow or the day after (as this fic will have 2 parts), I promise (and thank you to those who sent prompts for that!), but today I thought I’d work on more of a family fic (partially because I saw an old pic of my aunt with the most fabulous 60s glasses and couldn’t let it go).

“Don’t you ever look like your Mummy!”

It was such a simple, commonplace phrase. Shelagh had heard it hundreds of times, and likely said it about as often, given her line of work. Yet now she heard in it a myriad of subtexts and assumptions that she never would have assumed before her marriage; before she and Patrick had adopted the little girl they were blessed to be able to call their daughter.

—[ 3 days earlier ]—

How much allspice is the proper amount? Lucille had loaned her an old family recipe for a dish called ‘jerk chicken’ which her mother had mailed over and Lucille had made for luncheon at Nonnatus last week. Though Lucille had helpfully pointed out the difference between British allspice and Jamaican allspice, as with any family recipe, the measurements were vague, maintained by the current cook having cooked alongside the writer of said recipe. Shelagh supposed she could just add to her taste and then further adjust it based on her family’s reviews.

As though thinking of them had summoned them, Shelagh heard the click of the door that signalled that Patrick and Angela must be home.

“Hello dears!” She called out, correctly assuming they would come to her.

However, she hadn’t guessed the tears that would accompany her daughter’s greeting. Instead of her normal cheerful hello, Angela had simply run over and hugged her mother’s leg.

She immediately bent down to enfold her daughter in her arms. “Sweetheart, what ever is the matter?”

Angela simply shook her head and buried it in the crook of her mother’s neck.

Shelagh hear the crack of Patrick’s knees as he bent down to rub his daughter’s back and explain the situation.

“Apparently Miss Lang asked her to read from the board, and that was something of a tricky request.” He paused to see if Angela would elaborate further.

Comforted enough to have regained her vocabulary, she did. “The words were all fuzzy and I tried but…” the tears were starting to well up once more. “I guessed wrong and then everybody laughed.”

Shelagh met Patrick’s eyes over Angela’s head as she pressed her face back into her mother’s shoulder. To her surprise, he looked confused about the incident, though naturally also frustrated and sad about the reaction of the other children.

But of course he would be, he was looking at the situation through different eyes. Angela had been a wonderful reader, quickly progressing whenever her parents asked her to read the next bit of her bedtime story. Thinking back on that, Shelagh did remember Angela looking very closely at the pages, and kicked herself for not realizing the problem sooner.

Yet at the same time, Angela’s story rewound time for her, to almost thirty years beforehand when another little girl had cried over her inability to read the chalkboard.

She sat in the bricht licht i’ the humble East Window i’ St. Andrew’s, the queart of the kirk always a balm tae her hairt. Ma and Da had tried, but they didnae ken any better than the teacher why she warslt sair wi the reading. It wis anely in class; on Sundays she could read the hymns jis fine.

A saft vice interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m aye sorrowed tae hear greeting on sic a lovely afterneen.” Sister Catherine settled herself beside her.

Shelagh wiped her tears an keeked up at her douche, bespectacled face, an it aa cam pouring oot.

“Everyone’s lauchin at me an Mr Wilson’s getting feejee kis Ah cannea read in skail.”

Instead i’ the worrit look Ma and Da had gien her, Sister Catherine seemed tae un’erstn an she felt a wecht lift fae her hairt.

The auld nun took aff her glesses an placed tham on the bridge i’ her neb. Suddenly the Sister’s face became clear tae her. She luikit aroon an fand the kirk transformed.

Yon same afterneen, her mither teen her tae see the ee doctor. The neist day, naething cwid bring her doon, even fin the ithers caad her a wee owl. The wardle wis a newly magical placie tae her noo, an she wis fair-tricket wi it.

Mimicking Sister Catherine’s actions all those years ago, Shelagh took off her specs and gently pulled her daughter back from her so she could set them on Angela’s face. Alarmed by this development, Angela abruptly stopped crying, and Patrick’s confusion turned to comprehension.

“Darling, could you try reading what the tin on the counter says?” Shelagh knew her glasses were probably a lot stronger than the ones Angela would need, but if this was indeed her problem, they would at least be of some help.

Angela hopped in excitement as her world changed just as Shelagh’s had when she’d been of a similar age.

“All spice!” She exclaimed, “All spice all spice!”

She took off to the living room to further explore her newfound abilities, alarming her little brother out his concentration on what appeared to be a game somehow involving a doctor and a fire truck.

“Magnavox!” She shouted. “The… Lanket!”

“Lancet!” Tim corrected from upstairs, where he was sequestered with his books.

Shelagh and Patrick laughed and turned back to the neglected dinner preparations.

“Would you like to take her to the optometrist tomorrow or shall I?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“Hmm let me write Miss Lang a note explaining why she ought to be excused from reading tomorrow and then I’ll take her after school. Choosing your own glasses is such a big moment…” Patrick placed a kiss over the temples of her own specs, and she knew he was remembering when she’d changed her old round frames for the new horn-rimmed ones he loved so much. “Indeed it is.”

—

“These!” Angela announced confidently as she tried on what must have been the fiftieth pair of glasses that day. Shelagh and Dr. Adams exchanged a look of amused relief.

“That’s a lovely choice, darling.” The pair in question sported a warm amber cat-eye frame with three little rhinestones in each upswept corner. Predictably, they looked absolutely darling on Angela.

“You look just like your Mummy!” Dr. Adams agreed, and Shelagh felt a warm glow of pride settle in her chest.

The rest of the transaction proceeded swiftly, and Angela practically dragged her mother home so she could show off her new glasses to Daddy and Tim, both of whom were suitably admiring.

Unfortunately, the next day did not go as smoothly. Once again, Patrick came home with a teary Angela, but this time his face was like a thunderclap. She didn’t have to ask.

“The other children must have said something truly cruel, and I’ll be having a word with their parents about it.” Patrick said angrily.

Shelagh nodded in assent, but bent down to speak to her little girl. “What did they say sweetheart?”

Angela shook her head, unable or unwilling to speak.

“I’ll make you some nice cocoa, and then you, Daddy and I can talk about it. How does that sound?”

Angela agreed, looking a smidge more at ease, and Shelagh set of to prepare hot beverages for the family, making extra cocoa in a spare cozy-clad teapot to set aside for Tim and Teddy when they eventually came in from Teddy’s makeshift cricket lesson in the back yard.

A sufficient quantity of hot cocoa ingested, Angela explained what had so upset her. “Claire said my glasses were pretty, and that I looked like you, Mummy, but Doris said that I was just pretending, that I couldn’t look like you because… because you’re not my real mummy.” Her tears were flowing freely once more. “And Charlotte and Anne agreed.” She concluded, before the floodgates opened in earnest.

Shelagh and Patrick both wrapped her in their arms, silently communicating sharing a look of knowing distress overtop of her small head. They had been open with her about her adoption for as long as she could understand it, both feeling it was important that it not be a shock to her, and knowing that if they didn’t tell hear early on, she was likely to hear it from a third party. Yet neither of them were naive enough to believed they had headed off all future challenges.

“Darling, it’s absolutely not pretend.” Shelagh spoke gently but firmly. “You’re my real daughter, so I’m your real mummy, and Daddy’s your real daddy.”

Patrick kissed the neat part in her hair to emphasize the point. “You remember how you grew in another lady’s tummy, like Teddy grew in Mummy’s?” He asked. Angela sniffled in acknowledgement, remembering this conversation. “Well some people don’t understand that even though you came from another lady and man, you’re our little girl.”

“But then why did Teddy come from you and Mummy?” Angela asked quietly, still shaken.

“Because sometimes different people in a family come from different places.” Shelagh explained. “But what truly makes them all a family - what makes us a family - is that we love each other, not whether or not we look like each other.”

“And if we do happen to look like each other,” Patrick added, Angela quickly interrupting to add detail, “like how my hair and glasses are like Mummy but my eyes are the same colour as yours and Timmy’s?”

“Exactly,” Patrick agreed. “And that’s just chance. Your looks are a gift from the man and lady who made you, and even if you had turned out to look nothing like us, you know we would love you just as much, don’t you?”

“Mmhhm.” A small smile broke through Angela’s tears as she agreed.

Shelagh felt the need to add one further clarification. “There are ways you’re like me and Daddy that aren’t chance; that are because you’re our daughter.” Angela turned her big, curious eyes to her mother.

“Like right now,” Shelagh said. “That wee expression, and the way you tilt your head, it’s just like Daddy when he’s confused.”

Patrick grinned. “And when Teddy or Timmy are naughty, or when something needs to be done, your voice and posture - that’s the way you stand - is just like Mummy.”

Angela was practically beaming now, her worries assuaged for the day as pulled her parents closer for another hug.

My sincere apologies if the Doric is terrible. I used a site that had an extensive dictionary and translation tool, but it may be Google Translate quality. I wanted to get across my headcanon that Shelagh grew up speaking Doric, so her memories of her childhood could also be in Doric (as I find when I remember events that happened in French, my memory of the whole event, including descriptions is in French). If anyone speaks Doric and notes anything wrong with my translation, please tell me!

[English translation of the Doric part:

She sat in the bright light of the humble East Window of St. Andrew’s, the quiet of the church always a balm to her heart.

Ma and Da had tried, but they didn’t know any better than the teacher why she struggled sorely with the reading. It was only in class; on Sundays she could read the hymns just fine.

A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m always sorrowed to hear crying on such a lovely afternoon.” Sister Catherine settled herself beside her.

Shelagh wiped her tears and peeked up at her kind, bespectacled face, and it all came pouring out.“Everyone’s laughing at me and Mr Wilson’s getting angry because I can’t read in school.”

Instead of the worried look Ma and Da had given her, Sister Catherine seemed to understand, and she felt a weight lift from her heart.

The old nun took off her glasses and placed them on the bridge of her nose. Suddenly the Sister’s face became clear to her. She looked around and found the church transformed.

That same afternoon, her mother took her to see the eye doctor. The next day, nothing could bring her down, even when the others called her a little owl. The world was a newly magical place to her now, and she was delighted with it.]

#turnadette #Shelagh Turner #Patrick Turner #Angela Turner #my fic #otp: we're like an officer and a sergeant

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bevioletskies · 6 years

Text

everybody wants to rule the world [4/8]

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: 13.7k

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.

extra warning for this chapter in particular - semi-descriptive depictions of panic attacks and violence, plus mentions of blood near the end. yeah, it's that kind of wedding.

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

i can’t stand this indecision...married with a lack of vision...

ao3 | tag

“I’m nervous. Like, really, really frickin’ nervous. Why am I nervous?”

“If you’re talkin’ to me, I ain’t listening,” Yondu snorted from where he was sprawled across Peter’s bed. “And if you’re talkin’ to yourself, it’s too late. Today’s the day, boy. Don’t be getting cold feet now.”

Today was, indeed, the day of the royal wedding, a spectacle that had been completely unheard of just four days ago, now spread across the galaxy like wildfire - the exact opposite of what Peter and Gamora were hoping for. Ego had only just returned from his trip late last night, boasting about all the leaders and other people of particular importance he’d spoken to, inviting them to take notice of their young kingdom, its young leader, and his soon-to-be wife.

To Peter’s dismay, Yondu never got a hold of the guest list again, and could only rattle a few insignificant names that he could recall off the top of his head before shrugging in defeat. Apparently, Ego had locked up his quarters, preventing literally everyone from getting inside, even his own personal attendants and advisors. Peter couldn’t spend too much time worrying about what it meant, though, since he knew Gamora was more anxious about the ambiguity of their wedding guests. She was dreading the thought of facing anyone who would recognize her for who she was, or worse, do something about it.

“I’m not getting cold feet!” Peter exclaimed defensively, turning away from the full-length mirror to face Yondu. “Stop bein’ a jerk and tell me I look good.”

Peter was wearing the fanciest suit he had ever owned, a wine-colored tuxedo jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, paired with a black velvet bow tie, black pleated slacks, and shiny leather loafers. His somewhat unruly hair had been smoothed and styled a little more than usual, his scruff tidied up along his neck and chin. Yondu was admittedly thrown by Peter’s appearance - after all, this was the same boy who made mud pies in the garden (when he was ten) and attempted to wash himself in the fountain before Ego came home (he was not successful). There were plenty of positive words he could use to describe Peter, sure, but “mature” had never really been one of them.

“You got your cologne on, right? Otherwise, you gonna smell like that nightcap from yesterday.”

“I was nervous,” Peter repeated, turning back towards the mirror to scowl at his reflection. “We both know this is the easy part. Afterwards, who knows what’s gonna happen.”

“What, y’ mean the Mad Titan droppin’ in? Can’t imagine that going wrong at all,” Yondu said dryly. “And straighten your tie, Quill. It looks like a compass pointin’ anywhere but north.”

Meanwhile, Gamora was getting ready in the guest quarters, in the company of her people. Her attempts to shoo away the palace attendants were futile, as they refused to let her get dressed without help. She was surprised to find that her people had been provided new clothing for the wedding, though she figured it wasn’t out of generosity, but rather, the presence of others that had motivated Ego to do so. Drax still refused to wear a shirt, and Groot only accepted the tie, but Nebula and Rocket looked both more well-groomed (and more uncomfortable) than they had their entire lives.

“It’s itchy,” Nebula said petulantly, yanking at her shirt collar. “How long do we have to wear these damn things?”

“Festivities usually go late into the night, ma’am,” one of the attendants volunteered, though she seemed to regret speaking up the second Nebula glared at her. “His Majesty’s request, of course,” she added hastily. “He usually likes having events that last for weeks.”

“He don’t have anything better to do?” Rocket snarked. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch in his suit, wrinkling the fine wool material as he did, while jabbing a screwdriver fruitlessly into the device he was working on, making the attendants a little wary of his presence.

“His Majesty takes great pride in providing the very best for his guests and making them feel important,” another attendant said defensively. “I can assure you, most people appreciate his intentions, even if they aren’t privy to social gatherings.”

“Well, we aren’t like most people.” Gamora turned away from the window, stepping down from the small elevated platform once the attendants had finally stopped fussing at her skirts. “Please tell me I’m done.”

“Yes, your highness,” the first attendant said dutifully, straightening up. “If I may say, my lady, you look very lovely.”

“You always radiate such confidence,” the third attendant sighed, her eyes bright as she watched Gamora cross the room to stand by Nebula. “It’s a very admirable quality, your highness. I hope Prince Peter appreciates that about you.”

Gamora wrinkled her brow. “...right. Please leave us.”

The attendants looked disappointed but merely bowed in response. “Yes, your highness,” they chimed in perfect sync before filing neatly out the door, the last one curtsying one more time before closing it behind her. Nebula rolled her eyes at the display before looking up at Gamora.

“You’ll have to put up with that for god knows how long,” Nebula snorted. “Maybe this is Hel.”

Gamora merely waved her off dismissively, attempting to lower herself onto the other end of the couch without crumpling her dress beneath her. “Small annoyances. Look at the bigger picture here, Neb. We need to figure out if there’s anyone in attendance who will cause a problem, and - ”

“ - and take them out?” Drax piped up very suddenly, sounding a little too excited for Gamora’s liking.

“No!” she exclaimed, astonished. “Drax, murder is not the answer. Not in this case, anyways,” she amended. “I was going to say, tell Quill and see if we can get them removed. Chances are if the ‘guest’ knows who I am and came to the wedding anyway, they have the intent to harm, maybe even kill. We can’t let that happen.”

“So what’re we waiting for?” Rocket exclaimed, jumping to his feet, tossing his device aside almost too casually for something so destructive. “Let’s go talk to Quill before the ceremony starts.”

“He refuses to see me,” Gamora sighed. “Apparently, it’s considered bad luck on Terra for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. I reminded him we aren’t on Terra anymore, but then again, when has he ever listened to me?” In actuality, Gamora had relented nearly right away. It was hard to argue with Peter once he looked almost guilty for asking in the first place, backtracking in order to please her. As irritable as he could be, Gamora had no desire to make him fit into her ideas of what she wanted, especially when he’d been so accommodating to her in return.

“I’ll go, then,” Rocket shrugged easily. “I was gonna go meet with Kraglin, anyways. He’s got a whole buncha junk I could scrap for parts. I’ll tell him about the potential murder guest.” Gamora winced a little at Rocket’s euphemism. “Drax, you wanna come with?”

“I would,” Drax nodded, bowing towards the remaining Titans. “I will see you all at the ceremony, provided none of us are caught by surprise and die horrible deaths at the mercy of infiltrators beforehand.”

Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at Drax’s utter morbidness as he and Rocket took their leave. She turned towards Nebula and Groot, the latter having been sat quietly the whole time. “Well, I suppose now’s a good time as any to get to the transport and get...married.” It was all vocabulary that felt foreign on her tongue - marriage, wedding, husband and wife. What a bizarre thing to do in the name of preventing mass destruction, she thought to herself.

“I am Groot,” Groot said kindly, getting to his feet. He patted her carefully on the shoulder, careful not to snag her veil. “I am Groot.”

“Thank you, Groot,” Gamora said softly, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you think so.” ______

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Nebula snapped. The temptation to kick her sister in the shin was getting stronger by the minute, but it wasn’t worth the risk of definite retaliation.

The two princesses of Titan (and oh, how they loathed the term, especially now that it was getting semi-regular usage) were sat in an old-fashioned carriage, currently stopped at the bottom of the front steps to the palace. The stairs were already packed with people clamoring to get a better look at the rest of the wedding party stood in front of the fountain, while the midsection was roped off and supervised by members of the guard. Their presence didn’t make Gamora feel much better, however, even though Kraglin had reassured Rocket and Drax that all the guests had been searched for weapons or other oddities before stepping foot on the planet. Something in her gut told her there had to be someone out there up to something, and for once, instinct was winning over logic.

“Excuse me for wanting to get this over with,” Gamora replied snidely, though she moved her fingernails away from the glass. “I only have so much patience, Nebula.”

“And apparently, not enough sleep,” Nebula snarked in return, sitting up from where she had been slumped against the window, apprehensively watching the crowd. Though she didn’t like agreeing with her sister out loud, she was also certain that there had to be at least one person among the hundreds with the intent to harm them.

Peter, meanwhile, was stood at the top of the stairs, rocking back and forth on his heels in anticipation, hands clasped neatly behind his back to hide the way they were trembling. Ego was eyeing him disapprovingly from a couple feet away, but knew he couldn’t chastise his son right then and there, not when everyone else was watching. Chancellor Yorke was stood behind the podium, ready to officiate, while Mantis and Yondu also stood a little way away from Peter as well, dressed in their very finest. Drax, Rocket, and Groot were on the opposite side of the wedding arch where Gamora was going to be, looking thoroughly bored. Even Groot, who usually defaulted to a serene smile, was practically drooping.

A moment passed before the conductor suddenly startled at the sound of an invisible cue and raised his baton to signal Gamora’s arrival. The orchestra burst into song - the traditional Terran wedding march, to be exact - causing everyone in the wedding party to stand a little straighter, while the crowd turned their gaze towards the bottom of the steps.

Gamora had stepped out of the carriage and was ascending the stairs, taking it one at a time as Mantis had instructed her. Even from far away, Peter could tell by the look in her eyes that she'd rather sprint her way up as fast as she possibly could. Nebula was following closely behind, keeping an eye on the train of her dress and its accompanying veil, though she didn’t look pleased about her job.

Peter, knowing that Gamora was going take at least a full minute to reach him, found himself observing her appearance, utterly mesmerized. He had already become so accustomed to the training gear she wore most of the time, or the ceremonial garb she had arrived in that was more suitable for a battlefield than a ballroom. What she was wearing now, though the complete opposite of what Gamora would have liked, was incredibly beautiful.

Her dress boasted a sweetheart neckline and a full skirt with layers upon layers of rose-gold tulle, fanning out into a modest two-foot train. Shimmering gold floral embroidery curled its way down the bodice and spanning the entire dress, winding around her shoulders and arms like it was growing from her vibrant skin. Her hair was in a half-updo, tendrils framing her face, with the rest of it twisted complexly at the back and held in place with a small pearl pin. Lastly, her veil, the exact color of the dress, descended from the crown of her head to the floor, just barely grazing her cheekbones as she walked. The softness in her appearance was a stark contrast to the coolness in her eyes, though it wasn’t quite the same expression she wore when they had first met. It wasn’t so much confidence as it was acceptance of the situation, or at least, that’s how Peter interpreted it.

He reached for her once she finally took her place across from him, joining their hands together and squeezing gently. “You look awesome,” he mouthed reassuringly. She cracked the tiniest of smiles in return, but otherwise looked stiff and unyielding.

Chancellor Yorke bent slightly to speak into the microphone, a warm grin on her face. “Friends, family, and esteemed guests, we are gathered here today to join Prince Peter of the Celestials and Princess Gamora of the Titans in marriage. Though they have known each other for a rather short amount of time, there are many out there that can speak to the strong emotional bond they have already formed.”

Peter choked out a stilted laugh. Gamora narrowed her eyes at him in response. Really? “Sorry,” Peter mumbled, mostly to Chancellor Yorke. “I’m just so...overcome. With emotion.” Now it was Gamora’s turn to bite back her snort of disbelief.

The chancellor gave him a confused smile before looking back out to the crowd. “In legally affirming their relationship, we are not only marrying two individuals, but marrying the old with the new, tried and true traditions with untraditional ideas - even unusual, you might say,” she added with a laugh. “The Titans are one of the oldest royal families in the entire galaxy, and certainly one of the most revered. The Celestials, on the other hand, are of a new kind, growing and learning with its people. By bringing Prince Peter and Princess Gamora together, we are acknowledging that harmony and peace can be accomplished between complete opposites. We can make connections with people and ideas that otherwise share nothing in common. And by doing so, we strengthen everyone, and create a togetherness like no other.”

Gamora felt her eye twitch a little, wondering if Chancellor Yorke was aware of what she was getting wrong and so utterly right at the same time. In her peripheral vision, she could see Ego nodding along approvingly as if he wasn’t trying to create togetherness by destroying everyone else.

“And now, I ask for the couple to make their vows.”

Peter brightened then, having dozed off a little in the last fifteen seconds. He turned away from the chancellor to look Gamora in the eye, his gaze gentle, yet steady. “In the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I can already say that it’s been awesome getting to spend time with you. The conversations and moments we’ve shared make me hopeful that our marriage will be a happy one. And in marriage, I promise to remain loyal and faithful, to make sure you feel happy and respected, and for the days where you feel like you’re in a dark place - ” he released her hands to unclasp his right hand, his palm open towards the sky “ - to be your guiding star.”

A warm ball of white light hovered a mere inch above his hand, turning over and over again the way it had when he made her engagement ring. This time, the light melted away to reveal a small crystal hairpin in the shape of a constellation, one she couldn’t identify on sight. The crowd cooed below them, whispers aflutter among the spectators, but Gamora only eyed Peter cautiously as she bowed to allow him to slide it into her hair, above her left ear. Though they had been training for the last few days, throwing each other around for hours at a time, there was something much more intimate about the feeling of his fingertips grazing her temples despite the fact they weren’t touching anywhere else. She shivered involuntarily.

“I would have never imagined myself getting married,” Gamora began, much less steady than Peter had been. She hadn’t practiced her vows nearly as much as he did - she thought them to be pointless, and she’d never been one for flowery bombast. “Especially not to someone who says such melodramatic things.” The crowd seemed tickled by this, laughing as if she had told some great joke. Gamora paused to look at them, alarmed by the sound of their laughter, before realizing that somehow, they were starting to warm to her presence. “But our time together has been unlike anything I’ve experienced, and I’m grateful for every moment of it. In marriage, I promise to remain steadfast and unwavering, to keep you full of joy and laughter, and to protect you in the ways that only a warrior can - with everything that I have.”

Peter grinned widely at that, pleased by her promises, however false they might be. Though they were spending more time together outside of their duties and obligations, slowly building the shaky foundations of their (potentially temporary) friendship, she still wasn’t one for emotional expression. He could, at the very least, appreciate her efforts, and even more so, be impressed by the outcome.

The ceremony continued on with the exchanging of rings, with Peter becoming so nervous that he nearly dropped them. The crowd tittered at this, but the Celestial civilians seemed to enjoy his antics as always. Finally, the chancellor stepped forward once more. The grin on her face was infectious.

“Blessed be, by the powers of our masters - Death, Entropy, Infinity, and Eternity - I pronounce Prince Peter and Princess Gamora husband and wife!” Chancellor Yorke boomed, her arms spread wide. “You may kiss the bride.”

The next minute or so blurred into a haze for Gamora, as if she were in a dream. Peter swept her closer, his hands on the small of her back while he brushed his lips against hers, so briefly that it was over in a blink. The crowd erupted into deafening applause and shouts of joy, the orchestra exploded into a cacophony of sound, and flower petals rained down on them so thickly that by the time Gamora found her headspace again, she could barely see Peter’s face at all.

He ducked back in after she had taken a moment to breathe, his mouth now ghosting against her ear. Gamora couldn’t describe the feeling of his lips on hers if she tried. She shivered again. “It’s over,” he whispered. “Though I can’t say that that was the hard part.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one,” Gamora drawled, though it felt like a considerable weight was lifted off her shoulders. It was an irrational feeling, considering the ceremony was only one step of many - a mostly irrelevant one, at that - but something about the vows, the crowd, and Ego’s presence made her uneasy.

After some time had passed and what felt like a few hundred photographs had been taken, the wedding party made their way back down the steps with Peter and Gamora leading the way. The crowd reached out across the barriers in an attempt to touch their shoulders or shake their hands in congratulations, though the guard made sure no one came even close. Peter helped Gamora back into the carriage she had arrived in, gathering up handfuls of her skirt and veil to keep them from getting caught, before following her inside, sitting across from her where Nebula had been. Once the carriage door had shut behind him, it was as if all the sound in the world instantly evaporated around them, leaving only a welcome silence.

“Well, I’m...sweaty.” Peter reached for the handkerchief in his inside jacket pocket and began patting his forehead dry. There was a visible sheen to his face, and his hairline wasn’t quite as neat as before. He held the handkerchief out to her in offering. She glanced at the damp cloth briefly before shaking her head. He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I was so freaking nervous the whole time, and that is not something I’ll usually admit to.”

“Really, Quill, being ‘my guiding star’? Who was responsible for that one?” Gamora teased.

“Me, thank you very much,” he pouted. “You didn't like that? I thought it was very romantic.”

“Apropos, if anything. I thought your father was about to start weeping,” she chuckled, now bringing her feet up onto the seat beneath her. “He really is infatuated with the idea of you being infatuated with me. Who knows why, since it has no bearings on his attempts on the Infinity Gauntlet.”

“I’m not exactly a relationship kind of guy. Our marriage probably helps him pretend I’ve reached peak ‘adulthood’ as if he wasn’t the one who set this up in the first place,” Peter replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s just stupid parenting crap. Ignore him.”

“It’s hard to. We were having such a peaceful time these last few days without his presence,” Gamora sighed. “I’m not looking forward to formal dinners and ‘friendly’ chats again. I feel like I have to check every corner I turn.”

“That’s how it felt when I was growing up. Maybe I can claim my ‘adulthood’ means I can finally move away from home,” he said jokingly. “Find my own place to live and get a job that’s more than just shaking hands for a few hours every couple weeks.”

She softened. “Give yourself more credit, Quill. I’ve seen how you are with your people, and you’re clearly a very good leader. Imagine what you could do if you were given true political power.”

“You mean if I became king?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Why, do you wanna be the queen now?”

“I was under the impression we were getting divorced as soon as our fathers are gone,” she answered, curling a little further into herself.

Peter didn’t respond. Gamora turned away from him, sensing that she had hurt his feelings. Ever since the engagement party, she was becoming more attuned to his sensitivities, knew where not to poke and prod - his mother, for example. He mentioned her often enough, but it just wasn’t something for Gamora to bring up on her own. But here, she was under the impression that she and Peter were on the same page when it came to their marriage - that it was irrelevant, just a means to an end. It would serve no purpose after the deed was done. Divorce was inevitable, was it not?

“We are here, your highnesses,” the driver announced loudly through the screen.

Both of them startled, not realizing that the carriage had already been stopped for a full minute. They stepped out into the gardens at the back of the palace, already elegant enough on its own, now further transformed by the Collector’s doing. Posts covered in winding vines were used to hoist up sheer glittering drapes, with fairy lights woven in to give the illusion of a twinkling sky. Large floral displays were stationed along every path, along with tall banquet tables draped with pure white tablecloths, boasting endless trays of appetizers. There was a row of thrones by the fountain that were currently unoccupied, identical to those inside the palace, and a little off to the side, two long bars where there had to be at least half a dozen bartenders hard at work, as most the guests had flocked there immediately. Gamora couldn’t blame them - she was feeling a bit peckish herself.

Peter almost immediately spotted Ego and his shimmering golden cape, currently in conversation with Nova Prime, Lady Basha, and Senator Ponarian, all of whom were very influential across the galaxy. Of course. Peter rolled his eyes at his father’s obviousness before turning back towards Gamora, who looked uncertain of what to do next.

“I don’t see your people yet,” he commented, scanning the crowd. “Stay by me for now, they’ll turn up eventually.”

“I don’t think they’ll be received very warmly by these...guests,” Gamora said, her eyes locking on Lady Karaba. She was known for enslaving unique, powerful beings, her collection consisting mostly of Inhumans. She would certainly be interested in Rocket and Groot. “It’s not just my safety I’m worried about. Maybe it’s best they keep their distance and go back inside instead.”

“What about your sister?” Peter asked. “I know this kind of thing isn’t really her style, but - ”

“Your highness.” An attendant approached them, accompanied by an unfamiliar man in ornate robes and gold-plated armor. “Ambassador Ragnvaldr wishes to present you with a gift from his kingdom in person. We have already inspected it for anything that may do you or Princess Gamora any harm, and have deemed it safe for your consumption.”

“Uh, thanks.” Peter coughed awkwardly. “Hey, Ambassador, how’s it going?”

The ambassador looked mildly perturbed by Peter’s casual diction before holding up the small gift-wrapped box, bowing his head deeply in respect. “The Prince of Asgard sends you his congratulations, and wishes to express his regret that he could not be here.”

“Oh, awesome!” Peter exclaimed, accepting the box and bowing briefly in return. “It’s more of that Asgardian mead, right?”

“Yes, sire, aged for a thousand years, in the barrels built from the wreck of Brunnhilde's fleet - ”

“Trust me, I’ve heard the stories. If you see Valkyrie, tell her I said hi,” Peter added, grinning as heartily clapped Ambassador Ragnvaldr on the shoulder. “Oh, and of course, please pass on my thanks to Thor. Also, remind him that he owes me, like, a thousand units from our last bet.”

“I shall...endeavor to do so, your highness.” The ambassador looked increasingly baffled. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Prince Peter, Princess Gamora. I think I’ll take my leave now.”

“I’ll show you to your ship,” the attendant volunteered quickly, and the two of them scrambled off after a polite but brief bow. Gamora tried her hardest not to laugh as Peter just shrugged, oblivious. He led her towards the bar, apparently wanting to drink some of the mead right away.

“Bet?” she asked, watching as he unwrapped the box. The nearest bartender looked a little offended as Peter triumphantly pulled out the small flask of liquor.

“Who could beat who in an arm wrestling contest,” he explained, waving the open bottle under his nose and sighing happily as he did. “This was back when I was fifteen and he was...you know, I’m not even gonna try and guess. Either way, he’s gonna tell you he won, but it was totally me.” He held out the flask. “Care for a drink?”

“Oh, why not,” she sighed, her smile slowly growing. He beamed triumphantly before ducking behind the bar to grab two glasses, nodding at the now-irritated bartender as he did. Peter poured out a small amount of the mead into each glass before offering one to Gamora and holding his up in the air.

“We should toast to something,” he suggested. “Got any ideas?”

She paused to think, then raised her own glass in response. “To a new alliance. In more ways than one,” she added with a smirk. They both downed the liquor, wincing as they did. “That is...potent,” Gamora coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Kinda made my teeth numb,” Peter agreed, laughing. “Hey, I’ll save the rest for another time. We should really start socializing soon, or Dad’s gonna be suspicious.”

Ego had, in fact, been eyeing them from across the room ever since they had moved to the bar. When he noticed Peter was watching him in return, his face softened as he waved briefly before turning back towards his companions. “If we take our seats up there, that should signify we’re ready to be approached, right?” Gamora asked, gesturing towards the thrones by the fountain.

“Yeah, good idea,” Peter nodded. “Lead the way.”

Gamora carved a neat path through the crowd, smiling vacantly at those who reached out to congratulate her and Peter, who was following close behind. Once they had settled into their respective thrones, she was proven correct - dozens of people flocked to them instantly, clamoring for attention. Yondu and Mantis popped up out of nowhere and followed suit, with Mantis also taking a seat, while Yondu stood tall by Peter’s side.

Unsurprisingly, children, who were less concerned about rules, pushed their way to the front of the crowd and began throwing their arms around Peter and Mantis. A few young girls even shyly approached Gamora. “Your speech about Prince Peter was real nice,” one of the older children said, grinning widely. “I’m glad you’re our new princess.” Gamora, stunned, could only nod silently in response.

After a handful of adults passed through, mostly people Peter had never met before but pretended that he had, the Collector stepped forward, flanked by his attendants as always. He was wearing an even more obnoxiously loud outfit than he had been when they first met. “Your highnesses,” he cooed, bowing deeply, tossing his cape over his shoulder and nearly hitting Carina in the face. “Allow me to extend my congratulations - it was a wonderful ceremony.”

“Thank you, Tivan,” Gamora replied, exchanging dubious glances with Peter. “Your assistance has been of great value to us.”

“Yeah, everything looks amazing,” Peter chimed in. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you find such rare goods? I have a few friends that are into collectibles, and I’m always looking for birthday presents, y’know?”

Tivan straightened up, staring at him inquisitively for an almost uncomfortably long period of time before answering. “I reside on Knowhere, my lord. It’s something of a haven for...unsavory activity, if you get my meaning. It’s all about connections and the people I encounter, and sometimes, it’s just valuable pieces falling into my possession.”

“I was there once,” Gamora murmured to Peter. “No regulations whatsoever, suitable only for outlaws looking for highly dangerous and illegal work. I see where your mind is going, and it wouldn’t make sense.”

“How do you - ”

“A refuge for your people after this place is gone,” she whispered knowingly. “It wouldn’t be safe for them, especially for children.”

“Damn,” Peter muttered before turning back to the Collector. “That sounds pretty cool. Maybe I’ll check it out sometime.”

“I would love for you to drop by,” Tivan said, smiling unsettlingly. “And before I take my leave, your highness, I have a quick question for you. How did your father come into contact with my brother?”

“Your brother?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yes, perhaps you’ve heard of him. He’s best known as the Grandmaster, runs an ancient little competition on Sakaar?” Tivan prompted. “He’s not the type to reach out to others, you see, he’s much too busy for that. He really only responds to those who come to him.”

“I - sorry, Tivan, I’ve never heard my dad mention him,” Peter shrugged. “Why?”

“Your father extended a wedding invitation to him. He declined since he’s too preoccupied with his little contest, but my brother and I, we have one guilty pleasure in common,” Tivan admitted with a sly smirk. “I fancy myself a collector of prized objects. He fancies himself a collector of prized beings. I just thought there was a chance your father and my brother kept in contact in case Ego ever came across someone that fit my brother’s criteria during his travels. Someone more suitable for Sakaar than for here. An agreement, perhaps?”

“Father has no agreement of the sort,” Mantis said firmly, speaking for the first time since Tivan had approached them. “Should you ask him about it, I am certain he would be offended by your accusations of such lowly behavior.”

“My lady, I did not mean - ”

“He does not use people for sport or entertainment,” she continued. “He brings them here to help them live better lives. Your insinuation that he would assist the Grandmaster’s violation of freedom goes against everything this planet is about. Please do not say such a thing ever again.” Peter and Yondu stared at Mantis, astonished.

“I didn’t mean to offend, your highness. My deepest apologies to you and your father,” Tivan murmured, bowing once more. Carina and Ophelia looked stunned at his display of humility. “I have clearly overstepped my welcome. I shall leave.”

Once the Collector and his attendants had gone, Yondu quickly stepped in to shoo the crowd away before approaching Mantis. “Are you alright, girl? I haven’t seen you that angry since...well, ever.”

“I am not angry,” Mantis protested. “I just know I had to do something.”

“But you just said last week - ”

“I know what I said,” Mantis interrupted, turning to look at Peter. “I will not mourn him when he is gone. But how do you think he will react if he found out we did not defend him? Every time we act out against him now, it will make him suspicious. And trust me, he is getting more suspicious every day.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Gamora, who looked unusually rueful, twisted at the new wedding band on her ring finger. “Any change in your personalities, your behaviors, he’s going to attribute them to my presence. He already thinks I’m influencing you, Quill. And if he gets too close to the truth…” She trailed off, waving a hand.

“Exactly,” Mantis nodded, giving Gamora a grateful smile. “We have to continue acting as we have always done. Otherwise, we will end up like - ” She froze suddenly, her eyes blown wide.

Peter leaned in closer, concerned. She was seemingly fixated on something he couldn’t see in the distance. “End up like what?”

“Nothing,” Mantis exclaimed, shaking herself out of her reverie. She shrunk back into her seat when she noticed how close Peter had gotten, glancing over at Yondu. He only shook his head at her in silent warning.

“No, Mantis, tell me, end up like what?” Peter said urgently, reaching for her arm, but Yondu quickly stepped in between their seats before he could make contact.

“Don’t be botherin’ your sister like that, boy,” Yondu said lowly. “She said it was nothin’.”

Peter looked up at Yondu, more perplexed than ever as he slowly withdrew his hand. “Yondu, what are you - ”

“Gamora.” Now it was Nebula who had interrupted, stood about as dramatically as possible, chin tilted upwards in defiance. “There’s a call for you in the guest quarters. You need to take it now.”

“Where are the others?” Gamora asked, slowly getting to her feet.

“Patrolling the area for intruders,” Nebula replied impatiently. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Have they found anything suspicious yet?” Gamora pressed.

“What part of ‘let’s go’ did you not comprehend?” Nebula snapped, snatching up Gamora’s wrist. “Don’t make me drag you the whole way there, sister.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Gamora called over her shoulder before running off with Nebula, very nearly tripping over her dress a few times before she had even disappeared from sight. Peter, who was incredibly bewildered at this point, was unsure of whether to continue questioning Mantis or to follow Gamora and see if he could help. Yondu seemed to have decided for him, as he dragged the next random wedding guest up to stand before him, shooting Peter one last warning glance before standing by his side once more. ______

“Father, you’ve picked an odd time to call.” Gamora knelt carefully in front of the holo-screen, taking every caution not to ruin her dress as she did. They had returned to the guest quarters in record time, where the somewhat terrified-looking attendant who had notified Nebula about the call in the first place was standing by. Gamora had shooed her off immediately, knowing it wasn’t a conversation meant for an audience. “Has something happened?”

“Yes, I - what are you wearing?” Thanos’s brow wrinkled in confusion, the first time either sister had ever seen him look remotely uncertain.

“My wedding dress, Father, the ceremony just ended,” she reminded him. Although he obviously didn’t care about the wedding whatsoever, she would have expected him to at least remember it for the context of his schemes.

“Of course,” he said, nodding sharply. “Yes, I have spoken with Ego recently. He wanted to clarify our arrangements, ensure that I would approve of your new title and your new living situation.”

Gamora held back the urge to roll her eyes - honestly, did Ego really think Thanos cared about any of that? “Princess of the Celestials, you mean?” she shrugged. “It’s only words. Titles are meaningless when they hold no clout.”

“He also told me something quite interesting,” Thanos continued, ignoring her. “Did you know, girl?”

She faltered. “Know...what, Father?”

“Don’t play games with me, child,” he warned, his eyes narrowed. “Did you know that killing Ego would strip his son of his Celestial power?”

Gamora’s blood ran cold, her breath nearly hitching had she not caught herself. She swallowed, though not hard enough for him to see. Nebula looked at her inquisitively over the edge of the screen. “No, I had no idea. I would have told you the second I knew, Father, you know that.”

“You really expect me to believe that?” he spat. He leaned in closer, his face filling up the entire screen, beady dark eyes challenging her to say otherwise.

“No, but I understand your suspicions. But I promise you, I have nothing to gain out of keeping secrets, and everything to lose if I do,” she replied evenly, drumming her fingers silently on her lap. “Had I known, I would have changed course. You know me, Father, I’m not one to waste my time, or yours. Now that we know killing Ego is out of the question, what’s our next play?”

Thanos sat back in his seat, though he still looked disgruntled. “It’s become clear to me that Ego’s weakness is his son. Prey on that, Gamora. But you’ll have to do it with consideration, so slowly that he never suspects a thing.”

“I don’t follow,” Gamora admitted, bowing her head slightly in submission. “What are you asking of me?”

“The only way Ego will cooperate is if we have leverage. And not just physical possessions or excessive wealth, no. He’s a man of compassion, of emotion,” Thanos sneered, as if it were something dirty. “So make Ego feel as if the boy’s love for him is slipping away to start. Weaken him. The boy must spend more time with you than his father, love you more than he loves his father. It will make Ego so very desperate.”

Gamora mused over the idea as he spoke. As much as she hated its dishonesty, credit where credit was due - it was smart. She knew the Titans had a reputation for being more bloodthirsty than any other, with a lust for nothing but war, but war required strategy. Thanos was no ignoramus, that was for sure.

“And what then?” she asked.

“When I arrive, we slowly take the boy apart, piece by piece, until Ego agrees to help us to spare the boy’s life.”

Gamora inhaled sharply. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “Father - ”

“We’ll kill the boy eventually, of course,” Thanos said airily, waving his hand in casual nonchalance. “In fact, it might have to be the last thing we do to break Ego. Maybe we have to kill his people before he finally starts to beg for relief. But that is entirely his fault. And why is that, Gamora?”

“Sentiment...is a weakness,” she said slowly. Her legs were trembling beneath her despite being seated, an uncontrollable quiver that she could only pray Thanos couldn’t see. “His love for his son...and his people...they will be his end. His reason for giving in to you.”

“I’ve taught you well,” he nodded. “If you do as I ask, Gamora, maybe you can keep the boy as your...companion. We might have to bring him out in front of Ego every now and then, hurt him a little bit. But perhaps his company will please you.”

“A personal toy? How generous,” Gamora smirked, though just saying it made her skin crawl. She was trying her best to remember how she usually spoke, but by being on Ego’s planet, by being in Peter’s presence, she was already starting to slip up. Her language, her diction, they lacked the bite that she had grown so accustomed to when she had no choice but to fight. Now that she had the choice, her words became softer as a result.

“Go back to your proceedings,” Thanos ordered with a sharp, militant nod. “And remember what you must do.”

With an abrupt bzzt, his face vanished from the screen, leaving the room silent, yet Gamora could practically feel him still breathing down her neck as if he were standing right behind her. “How could he?” she whispered.

“Thanos? It sounded like his typical dramatics as per usual,” Nebula shrugged, aiming for her usual indifference, though the shiver in her voice betrayed her.

“Not Thanos, Ego,” Gamora hissed, getting to her feet. “He just simultaneously made himself irreplaceable to our father while sacrificing his own son. He may pretend that our marriage is nothing more than a political alliance in good faith, but he’s clever. Really clever. He’s made Thanos need him. But he’s also made it clear that Quill is expendable. Ego could have lied and said he was just as important to the existence of the Celestial power, but no. Instead, he gave Thanos a clear target for when - and I do mean when - things go wrong.”

“So his so-called love for Quill, that was a lie?” Nebula remained seated, staring up at her sister in uncertainty.

Gamora let out a hollow laugh, pacing the length of the room. “His name is Ego. There is nothing he will ever love more than his own existence. And he’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means being the catalyst for his own son’s death.”

“Then we tell Quill and the others what’s going on,” Nebula persisted.

“No.” Gamora shook her head adamantly, her back to the room. She could almost see the gardens through the large bay window, hear the soft strains of music and conversation floating up to them. “No, we tell the others, and we put them at risk. Ego and Thanos have already begun their twisted games by keeping tabs on each other. If Quill can’t keep up with yet another lie, word will get back to Thanos. And if he finds out that I’m not doing as told, he’ll likely come here and kill everyone himself.”

“You think Quill can’t pull it off,” Nebula said curiously. “Well, it looks like you don’t trust him as much as you say.”

Gamora turned away from the window. “This isn’t about trust, Nebula. He’s been feigning ignorance his whole life - pretending that Ego is a good man and a caring father. Continuing to do so isn’t too much to ask for, and that’s all he’s been doing thus far. We’ve already asked too much of him.”

Nebula snorted, finally standing as well. “Then you’re more confident in your ability to make him care for you than his ability to pretend he does. How typical of you.”

“At least attempting it while he’s ignorant is better than failing at pretending when everyone is self-aware,” Gamora said quietly. “It will only risk my life, and not theirs. You tell no one, Nebula. Not even our people. The less who know what Thanos knows, the better. Ego is only going to become more and more of a shadow as time goes on, and any secret he becomes aware of will get everyone killed.”

“And that would be a shame,” Nebula drawled. “Well then, let’s not keep your prince waiting.” ______

Lido missed the boat that day...he left the shack...but that was all he missed...and he ain't comin’ back...

Peter sat impatiently, tapping his fingers along the armrest to the beat of the song. It was almost time to begin afternoon tea, which would then be followed by the wedding reception, leading late into the night. Ego, thankfully, had listened to Peter and limited the festivities to a single day, but it still felt too long. Peter kind of just wanted to retreat to his room, crawl under the sheets, and sleep for a few days, maybe a week. He was starting to think that he liked the idea of weddings more than actually being part of one.

Gamora had been gone for an hour by now, and he was beginning to worry. He also hadn’t seen head nor tail of any of her people since Nebula had come to steal her away, and he was starting to wonder if their superstition about someone coming to harm her was more than just paranoia. In a way, Peter could understand how these hypothetical people were feeling, whoever they were. He knew if his mother’s brain cancer had manifested into a physical person, he would want to take them down, too. It was a childish train of thought, but he had felt so useless, watching her slip away, that he wanted something tangible, somewhere to place the blame, someone who could claim responsibility for her death so he could get some sense of closure.

At a tombstone bar...in a jukejoint car...he made a stop...just long enough...to grab a handle off the top...

“Relax, son.” Peter turned to look at Ego, who joined him not too long ago, drinking in all the praise heaped upon him by the wedding guests who had stopped by for a chat. “She’ll be back any minute now. Why don’t you go join your sister? She looks like she could use some company.”

Mantis, in fact, did not look like she needed any company at all. She was standing a good distance away, surrounded by children as she often was, listening to their stories and looking right at home. “She looks fine, Dad, you know she loves hanging out with kids more than adults,” Peter said dismissively. “I just hope Gamora’s doing okay, that’s all.”

“She’s something special, isn’t she?” There was a smile in Ego’s voice, nearing the quiet melancholy he usually reserved for talking about Meredith. “I know I’ve been teasing you a whole bunch, Peter, but you really do seem to like her. And I don’t blame you. Underneath all that...edge, she seems like she’ll do some real good. Be a good influence on you and our people. I think your mother would've liked her." They both fell silent for a moment. "Now, just because you’re married, it doesn’t mean your job is done. Treat her right, and you’ll be rewarded.”

Lido woah oh oh oh...he's for the money...he's for the show...Lido's waiting for the go...

Peter paused. “Rewarded with...what? Wait, no, I don’t wanna know,” he said, grimacing. Ego chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know where your mind is at,” Ego teased. “I meant loyalty, son. Her devotion to you! Her understanding that you are a very special person, and she should be honored to rule by your side.”

Before Peter could properly respond - and how could he, really, to something so arrogant - another voice interrupted. “I do hope you’re speaking about me, your majesty.” Gamora curtsied deeply before smiling beatifically at them. “I would hate to find out that my husband has multiple lovers at a time like this.”

Ego only laughed again, getting to his feet. “I told you she’d be back!” he said cheerfully. “I’ll leave you two be. I need to talk to the chefs about setting up for the rest of the day, anyways. See you both at teatime.”

“Bye, Dad,” Peter called after him as Gamora settled back into her throne. Some guests milled about nearby, uncertain about whether to approach them, but Yondu stepped in to wave everyone off, knowing Peter wanted to have a private moment. “Everything okay? You were gone for awhile.”

“It was just my father,” Gamora said, shrugging.

“Yeah, and your father’s a psycho warmonger,” he snorted. “So there’s gotta be more to it than that. What’d he want?”

“Just making sure I followed through with the wedding,” she replied easily. “He was probably secretly worried that I slipped off or something and ruined his plans. And what of you and your father? You looked rather cozy just now.”

“We have our moments,” he said, smiling almost bitterly. He had leaned in close enough that Gamora could almost detect a hint of star-laced purple in his eyes, something that had looked so dangerous before, now manifesting in something rather beautiful, if a little sad. “Anyways, there were a bunch of people asking about you. You ready?”

“If I must,” she said resignedly, turning to look at the hesitant crowd. She was pretty sure she was going to throw something if she got just one more question about her hair or who had made her dress. Honestly, did no one have anything better to talk about?

Afternoon tea began soon after, another Terran tradition that Peter had only heard of but never actually participated in as a child. Gamora was beginning to suspect all of Peter’s wedding suggestions were derived from his incredibly limited knowledge of his home planet, narrowed down to the eight years of pop culture he had lived through before being taken away.

Long iron-wrought tables were set up in the gardens, paired with matching dining chairs, covered in sheer tablecloths and large vases of white roses. The bars were shut down and shuffled out of sight, and trays of bite-sized food were brought out instead, along with what looked like hundreds of sets of fine china (golden in color, of course), accompanied by steaming pots of tea. Gamora silently questioned the choice to have tea after everyone was already pleasantly tipsy, if not flat-out drunk, but again, Peter’s planning didn’t appear to be the most...logical.

She was grateful, at least, that everyone was sitting down, and she was surrounded by her people instead of being swarmed by guests. She had answered more questions about her life (falsely, at times, when the truth would be too much for strangers to handle) in the last thirty minutes than she had in the last twenty years. Compared to what Peter referred to as “cocktail hour” (another falsehood, it had lasted far beyond its allotted sixty minutes), afternoon tea flew by quickly and painlessly, even with Ego sitting so close by, his gaze seemingly zeroed in on her and Peter as they talked.

After Gamora had taken a breather, she felt a little bit better about the whole situation. Thanos’s words had sent her into a temporary panic, but now, as she sat by Peter’s side, chatting easily with him about mundane niceties with Ego in earshot, she figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to dupe him on her own. Besides, she knew Peter already liked spending time with her, and making him happy seemed like an easy enough task - happiness came easy to him. All she needed to do was make sure Ego was close enough to see and report back to Thanos. The very thought made her shiver, but at least it would keep Peter and everyone else safe.

As it began to grow dark, guests slowly shuffled their way into the palace, milling about the enormous parlor as the attendants finished preparing the ballroom. According to Peter, it had only ever been used for his and Mantis’s coronations and birthday parties, but otherwise remained untouched.

“You still look surprisingly put together for someone who was sweating like an animal earlier,” Gamora commented, tentatively patting Peter on the chest. Ego was watching from a fair distance away, nodding approvingly as she did. “As for me, I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired, and I once sprinted across Easik for five days straight.”

“Wow, was that a compliment?” Peter teased, placing his hand over hers, clasped loosely over his heart. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Oh, you’re impossible,” she said, though she laughed as she spoke, withdrawing her hand. “I just want this day to be over with. Maybe I’m getting delirious in my exhaustion.”

He chuckled, opening his mouth to respond, before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat politely. “Sorry to interrupt, your highnesses, but I was wondering if I could speak with you in private, Princess Gamora.”

Nova Prime was stood before them, smiling warmly, though cautiously. Gamora looked to Peter in a brief moment of uncertainty before turning back to the other woman. “Of course, Nova Prime. Maybe in the gardens, away from everyone else?”

“See you inside,” Peter murmured, bowing to them both before disappearing into the crowd. Gamora led Nova Prime back outside, her stomach twisting unpleasantly in anticipation of what she could possibly have to say.

“Nova Prime, about my outburst from a few nights ago - ”

“Please, your highness. I was hoping to apologize to you,” Nova Prime insisted. “It wasn’t my place to say those things about you, especially in front of Prince Peter. I imagine he was still forming his first impressions, and I almost tainted them by treating you like a criminal. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but sometimes I forget I’m not on the clock. Married to the job, you know?” she added with a wry laugh.

“Still, I’m not proud of how I acted,” Gamora confessed. “I am not that person. At least, I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

“And I’m glad to hear it.” Nova Prime smiled gently. “Because I also wanted to let you know that my offer still stands. You do right by the Celestial people, your people, and your records will be wiped clean.”

I’m about to destroy their home planet, kill their king, and possibly get their beloved prince killed in the process, Gamora thought. Her heart suddenly felt a little heavier in her chest. “That’s very generous of you,” she said, though her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Remember, if I hear about any sort of illegal activity whatsoever, the deal is off the table,” Nova Prime said firmly, but not unkindly. “Prince Peter seems taken with you, and I trust his judgment. I’d like to be able to trust yours as well. Don’t lose his faith in you, your highness. I think you could be very good for each other, in more ways than you might think.”

Gamora’s breath caught in her throat. “Right, I - I have to take my leave now, Nova Prime. Thank you for your offer, and if you’ll excuse me - ”

“Are you alright, princess?” Nova Prime asked curiously, stepping closer. Gamora only stumbled back, nodding quickly before turning and practically sprinting off, ignoring the voices of Nova Prime and various palace attendants calling after her.

It was only until she had wandered deep into the back of the gardens that she allowed her knees to wobble and give out beneath her, collapsing onto the ground. Her palms dug harshly into the pebbles, droplets of blood beginning to form in the deep indents they created in her hands. Her breath was shallow, hot and ice-cold at the same time, chest heaving as she gasped for air.

Why did you think you could do this? Gamora thought wildly. Her mind was racing, heart pounding against her ribcage as if it were threatening to burst. Did you think you could keep all these secrets straight? You lose your temper. You become attached to people who show you just the slightest bit of kindness. You hide things from people because you think it will save them. You are not the warrior they say you are. Your mind is much too weak for that. You are a child, Gamora. Nothing more than a scared child.

She wasn’t sure when her inner voice had become possessed by Thanos, but it was all she could hear, vibrating violently in her ears, swallowing up all the space in her brain until it was nothing but him. And he was right. How could she possibly overthrow two of the most powerful beings in the entire universe like this, when the slightest of words - and she wasn’t even sure what exactly Nova Prime had said that burned her so badly, but it did, it absolutely ached - could make her fall apart like this?

“Gamora?” She whipped around wildly to see Peter running towards her, dropping down immediately by her side. She winced as he dragged the knees of his pants across the ground. “Nova Prime told me you freaked out and ran off - are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she was somewhat hunched over like she was about to vomit. The cakes and sandwiches from afternoon tea were starting to go sour in her mouth. “Go back inside.”

“You’re breathing funny.” He pushed her veil away from her face and cupped her jaw with one hand. “C’mon, breathe with me. In...and out. In - ”

“I said go,” she hissed, swatting at him. “Just because you act like a child, it doesn’t mean you get to treat everyone else like one.”

He recoiled, though not enough to let go of her entirely. “Okay. I’m just gonna ignore that ‘cause you’re clearly having issues right now, but also, that really hurt. Uh, but this is about what you need - ”

“What I need,” she said slowly, “is for you to go back inside. I’ll be there soon. Stop overreacting.”

“Overreacting is kinda my thing,” Peter said cheerfully, settling back so he could sit properly. She internally groaned - he clearly wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “What did she say to you? Was it about the deal?”

Gamora sighed in defeat, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Yes. She said it was still available to me, and I just...I felt so helpless, knowing that it won’t ever come to fruition. Knowing that I’ll spend the rest of my days in exile if I’m not killed first.”

Peter hugged his knees to his chest, shrugging. “You don’t know that.”

Her eyebrows shot up in response. “Quill, we’re plotting to kill our fathers,” she whispered. “In what world does that not fall under ‘illegal activity’?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, waving her off with a soft laugh. Gamora was surprised to find herself smiling a little, her breath slowing to a steady pace. Under any other circumstances, she supposed she would have had some biting response where she’d tell Peter off for being so cavalier, but something about his presence was beginning to calm her. “Look, sometimes we’re just gonna go through life not knowing stuff. And I know we won’t know ‘til we get there, so why worry about it now? We’ll deal with it when it happens. And I do mean ‘we’. I’ve got your back, Gamora.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re too naive for all this,” Gamora sighed, gesturing out to the unknown. “But I can appreciate your optimism every now and then, unrealistic as it may be. So...thank you, Quill. And I’ve got your back as well.”

He beamed easily. “So, you ready to head inside?”

She nodded, getting to her feet. She hesitated for a moment before holding out her hand. As much as she wanted to tell Peter about what Thanos wanted her to do, and maybe she would tell him after all - he had come to trust her so much in so little time, she felt she had to extend the courtesy - now wasn’t the time, not yet. He looked surprised at the gesture, but accepted her hand, getting to his feet. He looped their arms together before they walked back in comfortable silence, bracing themselves for the exuberant celebration that would seemingly never end. ______

Dinner was another long, tedious affair. Thankfully, it was more akin to afternoon tea than cocktail hour, where Gamora only had to socialize with those directly sitting beside her. Groot declined most of the food due to his special vegetation-only diet, Rocket kept “forgetting” to use utensils in favor of scooping up handfuls with his paws, and Drax and Nebula got into an argument during the fourth course about whether they thought Peter and Gamora’s vows had been romantic (Drax) or nauseating (Nebula). Ego decided not to participate in the Titans’ rather colorful conversation, instead opting to chat with Peter, occasionally talk to Mantis, and send an attendant down the table every so often to pass a message on to someone else. Eventually, he did ask Gamora about her future plans as their new princess, something she had admittedly not been prepared for.

“Tell me about your vision,” Ego said. “What do you imagine for our planet’s future?”

“I wasn’t aware I would be given such...power, your majesty,” Gamora replied decisively. “You’ve never brought it up before.”

“Why, of course you would,” Ego chuckled. “You didn’t think you were just going to spend your time here sitting around and looking pretty, did you? That’s Peter’s job!” She could sense Peter faltering for a moment beside her before continuing to eat as if nothing happened. Her stomach turned, though not in response to the food.

“I suppose not,” she agreed.

“You know, I spoke with your father the other day,” Ego continued. “He had all sorts of questions about how you were doing, and what you would be doing. Now, I don’t know too much about your relationship with him, but for someone of his, to put it delicately - reputation - he seems invested in your well-being.”

“Is that all you spoke about?” Gamora asked, hoping she didn’t look as disgusted as she felt.

“Not exactly,” Ego hummed. “He wanted to know more about the Celestial power source. Everyone always does. I told him the gist of it, but he doesn’t need the details. After all, some secrets are best kept close to the heart.” He patted his chest briefly before picking up his fork again.

Gamora cursed inwardly. Damn. It didn’t seem like he was going to explain further, and she’d been hoping to catch him in the moment, maybe get him to reveal exactly what he’d told Thanos without her having to. Not that it mattered much - Peter had barely looked up from his plate the entire time, too invested in scraping up every last bit of his stew. His whole demeanor had changed ever since Ego’s offhand remark about him. “From what I’ve seen, the Celestials are a much more peaceful people than the Titans,” Gamora said diplomatically. “I can admire peace, of course, but I personally believe that you - that we - cannot continue on like this forever. Your guard seem competent enough, but your civilians seem to lack self-preservation.”

“Interesting.” Ego settled back in his seat. “You think we need to train the common folk as well.”

“Not train, necessarily. Just...prepare them. For worst-case scenarios. A person of your power doesn’t live life without enemies. Your people would suffer the consequences,” she replied. Peter perked up at this.

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound like a good idea, Dad? Especially if we’re trying to put ourselves out there.” He gestured down the length of the table, seats filled with prominent politicians, leaders, and the like from all over the galaxy. “It’ll be great for everyone if they were stronger, more prepared - ”

“But why would they need to be stronger? They have me,” Ego interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. “I protect them, son. And if I were to die - and that’s a big ‘if’ - then this planet will die, anyway, with all of them on it. That’s no secret, but no one’s come after us yet.”

“So you’re saying it’s common knowledge?” Gamora prompted. “Your life’s connection to the Celestial power’s existence, I mean.”

“Well, I don’t go around telling just about anyone, but if they ask, I see no point in lying.” Ego picked up his napkin and began wiping at his mouth, though his gaze was still fixed on her. “Your dad, for example. He wanted to know, so I told him. Didn’t seem moved one way or another. Who would come after me, anyway? I’m more valuable alive than dead.” Peter and Mantis exchanged worried looks across the table.

“Dad, c’mon, don’t say stuff like that,” Peter said uneasily. “Next thing you know, someone’s gonna attack us, starting with you.”

“Are you underestimating me now, son?” Ego chuckled, reaching over to clap Peter heartily on the shoulder. “I said we’re fine. It’s a nice idea, Gamora, but it’s unnecessary. I say, let the people live in ignorance! Preparing for a war that will never come is only going to burden them, sweetheart. You understand, right?”

She swallowed. “Oh, I understand, your majesty. I understand perfectly.”

After dinner was over, the furniture was cleared away, opening up the enormous ballroom to the crowd. The orchestra faded away, the lights dimmed to create a pleasantly romantic atmosphere, and speakers suddenly appeared out of nowhere at the very tops of the pillars spanning the length of the room. Gamora turned to see Peter beside her, hands held high above his head, bursting with white light. Soft music slowly rolled in, filling the room. She took a deep breath in anticipation, knowing what was coming next.

In the heart of the night...in the cool southern rain...there's a full moon in sight...shining down on the Pontchartrain...

“Time for the first dance,” Peter murmured quietly, lowering his arms. “And I wanna talk to you. In private. Well, sort of. More like in front of all these people who can’t actually hear us? Not my greatest plan, but, y’know, we’ll make do.”

“Can’t we just slip away?” she whispered, though she accepted his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the room. Her heart drummed urgently in her throat, though not nearly as painfully as it had a few hours ago in the gardens.

“Uh...sneaking off sounds like we’re gonna go do...something else.” His hands went to her waist in a gentle hold, while she draped hers around the back of his neck, taking the last few steps closer. Their noses were nearly brushing, and she could faintly smell vanilla frosting on his breath.

Her cheeks warmed at the implications. “Right.” She scanned the room over Peter’s shoulder, trying to make out faces in the crowd. Groot was easiest to spot, being one of the tallest creatures there. He waved at her happily. She couldn’t help but smile back briefly before her gaze continued on. Her sister, scowling as always. Drax and Rocket, nodding sharply as they made eye contact. Ego was currently flanked by Yondu and Mantis, who seemed to be having a silent conversation quite literally behind his back. She wondered if there had been more to Mantis’s odd outburst from earlier than first appeared, maybe something Yondu knew about that Peter didn’t. She would have to bring it up to him later on when they weren’t being watched by what felt like everyone in the galaxy.

“So, Thanos knows about Dad,” Peter said quietly. He twirled her out and brought her back in. His arms were steady, but his hands were a little more unsure than they had been the last time they’d done this. The room burst into applause, oblivious. “What the hell does that mean for us?”

“It means Thanos will change his course,” Gamora replied. “He won’t kill your father, or let him kill himself.”

Peter snorted. “As if Dad would ever do that. You know what he’s like.”

“Yes, and I think he’d rather take his own life than beg for it.” Her eyes flickered towards Ego. “His pride wouldn’t let him sink so low.”

And the river she rises...just like she used to do...she's so full of surprises...she reminds me of you...

“If anything, I’m surprised Thanos didn’t bring it up when he talked to you earlier,” Peter continued. “Seems like the kinda thing he’d tell you about if you’re supposed to be plotting to kill Dad.” Gamora’s head dipped very slightly against Peter’s shoulder. It was the tiniest of movements, and yet - “Wait...he did tell you already, didn’t he?”

“Quill - ”

“Right, this again. Y’know, I thought once we were friends, we’d be past all this,” he muttered. He looked more resigned than angry, as if he had come to expect it of her, and somehow, that hurt much more than if he had yelled. “Keeping stuff from each other? Only telling me when it’s convenient for you? And you were just pretendin’ earlier, weren’t you, tryna get Dad to bring it up so you wouldn’t have to tell me yourself. You wouldn’t’ve talked so much otherwise.”

There's a nightbird singing...right on through till the dawn...and the streets are still ringing...with people carrying on...

“I was planning on telling you eventually,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, before or after Thanos gets you to kill me?” He let out a derisive chuckle at her dumbfounded expression. “Gamora, we talked about this on the night we met. He finds out he can’t kill Dad, he comes after me instead, for leverage. I’m not an idiot. I remember stuff, you know.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, I just - ”

“Whatever,” he huffed, schooling his expression back into something more pleasant, if a little vacant. The guests were starting to look worried. “I bet Thanos told you to sneak into my room while I’m sleeping and literally stab me in the back.”

“And I told you, I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Really? Because you’re doing a damn good job of it,” he shot back.

And I trust in your love never falling down...and I trust in your love...just like I do in this town never falling down...

She stared at him, perplexed. Though they had been rather rough during sparring practices, she never left anything more than a couple bruises that healed a few days later. But that wasn’t what he meant, was it - he was his father’s son after all, wasn’t he? His pride, his self-worth - all her talk of his lack of discipline and maturity, the derisive way she referred to his hobbies like they were just childish indulgences - that couldn’t have made him feel good.

“Maybe I’ve been unfair to you,” Gamora agreed. “And maybe this is just an excuse, but I don’t know what you expected of me. You know how I was raised, how I was socialized. Anger became part of my nature, and cruelty became my defense. I’m trying to unlearn everything that I am before it’s too late. So say something instead of acting like a child every time I treat you like one.”

“Y’know, sometimes...sometimes I think I get you.” Peter gave her a wan smile. “And sometimes, I have no clue what’s on your mind.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does,” he retorted. “How are we s’posed to work together if I can’t figure you out?”

“I’m not a puzzle to be solved,” she reminded him, frowning. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a shift in the crowd, significant enough that a few people were stumbling aside like they were being pushed. What the…

“I didn’t mean it like that, I know you’re not - ”

“Quill, look out!”

Peter let out a startled cry of surprise as Gamora dug her nails into his shoulders, twisted him around, and flattened them both to the floor, nearly crushing him with the sudden impact of her own body. He only heard the telltale ri-i-ip of her dress being torn for a split second before it was drowned out by rapid gunfire. It lasted for a brief moment before the room filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps and panicked cries of terror.

“Gamora - are you okay, what was that - ”

“Gamora, catch!”

Peter lifted his head very slightly to watch as Gamora leapt to her feet and snatched her sword out of the air, giving Drax a brief nod of gratitude before turning towards the source of the gunfire - a small group of armed Kree, led by a particularly intimidating one with ice-blue eyes and neural implants wrapped around the back of his skull. Peter slowly got to his feet, keeping himself low as he glanced in the direction of their people. Rocket, Drax, and Nebula were already brandishing their weapons, while Groot appeared to be growing in size, towering over the others even more so than before. Mantis had ducked behind Yondu, who had his yaka arrow floating at his shoulder, teeth gritted, and Ego - well, he was nowhere to be found.

“What do you think you’re doing, Korath?” Gamora demanded, jabbing the point of her sword in the direction of the supposed leader. “And how did you get here?”

“I’m here on behalf of your father,” Korath hissed. “I’m here for him.” He swung his gun towards Peter, whose hands were already outstretched and full of light, though he looked vaguely terrified, unsure of what to do.

“If you knew my father at all, you would know that this isn’t what he wants,” Gamora said slowly, taking measured side steps, doing her best to keep Peter behind her. He hadn’t perfected the use of his Celestial powers for combat by any means, and she only wanted them to be used as a last resort. “So leave, and take your men with you, before anyone else gets hurt.” Peter glanced over his shoulder briefly, horrified to see unmoving bodies and several people crawling desperately towards the doors. Most of the crowd had already dispersed, but a brave few had stayed behind to help the injured.

“This doesn’t concern you, princess,” Korath said tauntingly. He fired a warning shot above the crowd behind them. They shrieked in terror, cowering. Groot sprinted towards them, his branches spiraling out from his arms and shoulders to create a thick, armor-like layer. A couple Kree attempted to fire into him, only for the bullets to bounce off and fall to the floor harmlessly. Groot snarled in response before turning to brace himself over the crowd, allowing them to escape.

“You’re attempting to kill my husband and other innocent people. I’d say that concerns me greatly,” Gamora snapped.

“And what do you care about innocents?” Korath sneered.

“I am not like you, Korath,” Gamora replied, straightening up slightly. “I take no pleasure in this. Not anymore. Or maybe I never did. Either way, you need to leave. Before your life becomes the last one I ever take.”

In lieu of answering, Korath fired at them both with a feral growl. This time, it was Peter who yanked Gamora to the ground, careful to pull her head into his chest before it could hit the floor. Gamora took a moment to briefly rip the veil out of her hair and kick off her shoes before getting back up. She charged at Korath with a warrior’s cry, sword held high above her head. Peter watched in both worry and awe as every single Kree fighter descended on her, surrounding her so tightly he could no longer spot her, aside from the occasional glint of her blade as it swung.

The others ran to Peter’s side for a better vantage point, looking desperately for a way in so they could help Gamora, but there was no way of doing so without pushing her attackers even closer. “What do we do?” Peter exclaimed.

“Guns and knives at this range are only gonna risk hurting her instead,” Rocket said, sounding unusually despondent. “Even one wrong move with Yondu’s arrow, and she’s toast. You gotta do something with that light o’ yours, Quill, and fast.”

“Crapcrapcrap - ” Peter looked around wildly for something he could manipulate - creating material took concentration, concentration that he currently didn’t have - before he heard her shriek in pain. “Gamora!”

She had managed to take out five Kree already, now laid out across the floor like ragdolls, but there was a particularly persistent one who she had speared through the heart - just as he slashed her across the leg in return. Blood oozed from the wound, staining her dress as she grit her teeth in pain. She yanked her sword out of her assailant before stumbling over towards the last two Kree soldiers, who were braced in front of Korath, barrels aimed right at her head. “You are...truly the most idiotic...of Father’s subordinates...if you believe that this...is what he wants,” she panted.

“I never said it was your father."

Gamora hesitated, thrown by the implications, before - “Take that!”

The ceiling crumbled with a mighty cracking sound, showering the three remaining men in a mountain of tile and rubble. It crushed them into the floor, shattering the tiles beneath and near-instantly killing the soldiers. Gamora leaped back, nearly falling on her behind as her leg seared hot with a fresh wave of pain, a cloud of dust whipping into her face and pouring into her lungs. She coughed violently, turning away as her eyes burned with ash.

Everyone ran towards her, including Groot, who had gotten the last of the civilians out of the ballroom. The glow of the Celestial light slowly dimmed as Peter reached for her, slipping an arm around her shoulders for support as she limped, clutching at her ribcage with her free hand. “I can’t believe that worked,” Peter breathed, coughing sharply as well. “I’ve never done that before, holy crap - ”

He was interrupted by a vicious snarl from behind them. They all turned to see Korath, struggling beneath the heavy debris, with only his head fully visible. Gamora moved as if to walk towards him, but Drax held up a hand to stop her. He stalked over to Korath, slow and menacing, before kneeling beside him, looming over the Kree general who now looked more like a hopeless child.

“You have hurt men, women, and children who do not deserve it,” Drax said grievously. “You have caused great pain to the princess, who is both my friend and a greater warrior than you could ever hope to be. Remember this, Kree, as I allow you to have the last breath you will ever take.” Korath could only let out a pathetic wheeze as Drax promptly yanked out his neural implants, tossing them aside like they were nothing. He twitched violently, thrashing against the ground, before crumpling into a still heap.

As if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders, Gamora collapsed to the floor, letting out a shaky exhale. She wasn’t sure she wanted to turn around and face the dead bodies that she knew were there. Peter sat beside her, reaching to gently cup her face. His other hand went to the constellation pin in her hair, which had gotten loose in battle, sliding it back in place. “You’re okay,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. “It’s over.”

“I have failed you, princess,” Drax said, shamefaced as he stood. “I did not protect you as I was sworn to do. What is my purpose, if I cannot fulfill such a simple task?”

“Protecting me isn’t simple,” Gamora pointed out, gesturing at the dead Kree soldiers. “Which is why I can only trust people like you, Drax. You haven’t failed me at all.” He smiled, pleased. They fell silent, unsure of what to say next - what could they even say, after what had just transpired - before she spoke again, this time to Peter. “What Korath said...about it not being my father...you don’t think he means - ”

“Son!” Ego was practically springing across the length of the ballroom, his cape sweeping dramatically at his ankles. Nova Prime and her personal guard were following closely behind. “Peter, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I wasn’t really fighting. Gamora’s hurt, though,” Peter replied, gesturing towards her leg. “Can we get her something?”

Ego called over his shoulder at the guard members hovering by the door. “Don’t just stand there, get the girl some bandages and towels! And call the doctors! Now!” To Peter’s astonishment, Ego then kneeled on the ground beside Gamora, careful to avoid the alarming pool of blood beneath her. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling softly. “That was a real show you put on there, sweetheart. You’re braver than any soldier I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you...your majesty,” she said. Her breath was coming in short, her brain a little fuzzier than usual. She could hardly find the energy to feel insulted. “But this was all my fault. If I wasn’t here - ”

“The people out there, they’re scared outta their minds,” Ego interrupted. “But what you just did - you’re their hero, Gamora. You saved Peter. You saved everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Gamora corrected quietly, looking over at the dead bodies for the first time. It was a sight she never wanted to get used to.

“They’re singing your praises, believe it or not,” Nova Prime said with a wry chuckle. “Don’t underestimate what you’ve done here tonight, your highness. Think of what would have happened if your husband was killed. You’ve stopped a war.”

Gamora looked around, uncertain. To her amazement, they all looked genuinely proud of her - even Nebula was half-smiling in her Nebula-ish way - and Peter’s eyes were glowing with something she couldn’t identify. He moved in closer, pulling her somewhat into his chest so she could lean against him as her balance became increasingly unsteady. Ego got to his feet, striding away with Nova Prime as they began discussing damage control, and the others took a few steps back to give them space. Peter lowered his forehead against hers, and it felt infinitely more intimate than their brief kiss from earlier.

“Thank you,” Peter murmured. “You were freaking badass. And I guess that’s one way to start off a marriage, am I right?” Gamora laughed, the pain in her leg subsiding for the time being as she tucked into the crook of his neck, warm.

“Well, I was kind of hoping the wedding would be over already. Should be careful what I wish for.”

a/n: hey, all! sorry for the long chapter...again. i keep telling myself to keep them shorter so you don't get bored but then i decided to introduce like five new (and important!) plot points in this one, oops. hope you enjoyed it anyways! for now, let's just assume i'll be updating once a month, possibly sooner for the next one since it won't be as plot-heavy, so expect chapter five to come sometime in the first two weeks of march.

i based the description of gamora's dress off this one, but with this color palette. songs in this chapter are: lido shuffle by boz scaggs and heart of the night by poco. also imagine that king and queen of hearts by david pomeranz was playing at some point - before the reception, maybe? - as i wanted to get that in there but the word count was already getting to be too much, haha

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

#starmora #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #peter quill #gamora #myfic #myfic: rtw #marvel #happy valentine's day my dudes!!#here have a wedding

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