#guardians of the glalaxy

[comic-art-showcase]

Guardians of The Galaxy by Dan Hipp

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

We’ll Get Out of Here

Reader x Peter Quill

#35 [writing prompt link on my blog] “We’ll get out of here, one day.”

Requested by: @summertime-nd-butterflies

Warnings: angst | fluff | triggering (in a sense- fighting)

Summary: Originally this was going to be a cute, short one-shot like my previous one here but then I had this idea, and, well... Mostly it’s about being in a relationship with Starlord and wanting to go back home to earth, but then a fight breaks out and something unfortunate happens.

Word count: 3,278

His fingertips ran over the soft skin of your stomach under your shirt, his head resting half on your arm and half on your chest. He was half asleep, still dressed up for the day, his hair frizzy from their latest encounter. There had been bad luck with those odd jobs recently.

“We’ll get out of here, one day,” he whispered, placing his hand flat on your stomach, “I promise. Maybe we’ll even try to have a calmer life.”

You cracked a tiny smile, and slowly started playing with his hair. “That would be nice if you weren’t Starlord. You know, now that you’re guarding our galaxy, you can’t just retire.”

“I’ll work from home,” he said lazily.

“The entire galaxy, from Terra?”

He huffed. “I hear they’ve got their own super-heroes down there, maybe I’ll go ahead and join them. Pay some rent. Go to some concerts. Sit in a park, feed the birds.”

You chuckled. “Who knew you were such a simple man?”

It was silent for a moment. “I did,” he said, “I’m tired.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I know, go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He let out a deep breath and his eyes fell closed. There was a little window besides where you slept, and you looked out to the stars, in all their glory, shimmering against the black sky.

You woke up slowly the next morning, your head aching from a bad nights sleep. Peter had already gotten up to take his turn watching and flying. Drax was snoring somewhere, and in the distance, Peter’s music was playing, just a low rumble gently coaxing you awake.

Your stomach growled. There usually weren’t very good breakfasts aboard the ship, which something else you had said that you missed about home. Stupid aliens, they usually abducted cows, yet one day they decided you looked a little tastier.

You forced yourself up, rubbing your eyes with one day while the other supported your weight on the small cot. Gamora sat awake, leaning against some cabinets and staring into some device she had found somewhere one on of your missions.

“Good morning,” you tried. She grunted, her eyes never leaving the screen before her.

You shrugged, your socks gliding along the cold floor. You yawned, your lungs filling until they almost hurt. “Peter?” You asked softly. Root stirred as you past.

“Up here,” he said, bobbing his head to his playlist. “You okay?”

You nodded, sitting down in the seat next to his. “I’m okay. Just tired. Do we have anywhere to go today?”

He reached a hand out to your thigh, his eyes glancing over to yours. “Yeah, just getting some stolen thing back for some rich guy.”

“Ugh,” you sighed. “those are the worst.”

He laughed, “it’ll be fine. It’ll be quick, and it’ll pay good.”

You smiled, “I guess that is good, then.”

He held open his palm, signaling of your hand. You pressed your fingers in between his, looking down at the callouses and scars. “Did you mean what you said last night,” you asked, “you know, about earth?”

He was silent. “I think so,” he tried, “I probably wouldn’t manage staying there too long. But I know you wanna go home, and, well, I could get you there. But I think I’d miss you.”

You sighed. “I’d miss you for sure,” you said, “things are rarely so simple. Maybe we could just visit, then? Grab a beer, pet some dogs, get some new music?”

“You don’t like my music?” He teased, raising his eyebrows, “I can’t believe this.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I mean more variety. I can only listen to the ‘ooga chacka’s” so many times.”

He smiled, his lips stretching into a thin line across his cheeks. His eyes crinkled up at their corners. “We should get everybody else up,” he said, “it’s an early job. We might as well get it done with.”

“I guess,” you groaned, standing up, his hand falling from yours. “I love you, Peter. You know that, right?”

He looked up at you, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Of course. And you know I love you,” he reached out and touched your stomach, “every little bit of you.”

“I hate these rich guys,” Rocket grumbled, putting his gun together with some loud clicks.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, frowning.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you big softy.”

Drax took his seat with a thud besides them and yawned. Gamora had her head in her arms, half-napping as we rode into our next fight.

“It’ll be fast, you guys. And we need the credits. We’ll get a nice hot meal after this one, huh?” Peter said, throwing his head back towards us.

“Sure, sure,” Rocket groaned, rolling his eyes, “it’s always a hot meal, a bar, get kicked out of the bar, the ‘don’t you know who we are’ speech, and then getting tossed on our asses for the world to see.”

You laughed. “This time will be different.”

“You are an optimist,” Drax said with a throaty laugh, “it is a good quality, Y/N.”

You offered him a smile and sat down, combing through your hair with your fingers.

The lights around you buzzed and clicked off suddenly, sending a wave of anxiety down your body, your feet tensing beneath you. Everybody went quiet, and Gamora perked up.

There was a crash somewhere outside the ship, just barely audible.

“We’re landing, now,” Peter said, and there was a sharp change of course downwards to a small planet.

“What’s going on?” You whispered, reaching onto the table for a knife.

“Their attacking us,” Gamora said, “they always get the lights first. This thing will end better on solid ground.”

You nodded, clenching your fist around the blade’s handle. You swallowed. Everything would be okay, it always was.

The ships frame shuttered and groaned, the kind of sound that only metal could make, the kind of sound that haunted your nightmares. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten.

One.

Two.

The floor began to shake.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The ship turned abruptly and knocked something down from the shelves.

Six.

Seven.

You landed, and it was quiet for a short moment.

Eight.

Nine.

You held your breath for a second.

Ten.

The doors fell open, and light flooded the dark space, directly across from you.

Gamora dropped and rolled towards the wall, and Rocket put Groot down onto the floor. You sat frozen, staring into the empty light as your vision adjusted.

Peter sunk from his chair and inched forward, and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. But instincts told you to stay still.

Nothing happened for a long time. You sat, knife in your lap under folded hands, breathing and staring forward. Until, slowly, carefully, a woman rounded the corner, and oddly shaped gun-like weapon at her side.

“State your business.”

You stiffened, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “I think you know our business.”

The woman looked at you down her nose, scowling. “I believe that our business has nothing to do with you people,” she said, “we won’t kill you if you leave now.”

You looked at her, not wanting to speak for the team. You knew they wanted to finish the job.

“What will it be, then?” The woman asked.

Gamora jumped up and sent the sword surging down on her within an instant. She blocked it with her gun, the echo of metal on metal signaling the sounds of war to ensue.

You froze for a moment before Peter yanked you up and placed a kiss on your forehead, “don’t scare me like that again. Come on. Stay behind me.”

You sighed, shaking your head, keeping your knife down as you moved out. A rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins.

On the turn, a man jumped out and grabbed Peter, his hands slicing viciously. You jumped forward, grabbed its shoulder and stabbed down with your knife. It tripped backwards, and you wrapped your body around his torso and forced all of your momentum to the side. He fell flat on his stomach, blood pouring from his nose. You gave him a good punch to the head to make sure he was out. You didn’t like killing anybody.

Peter tripped for a second, regaining his stability. He nodded to you, then turned and faced the oncoming crowd of criminals. He clicked his mask on and spun his guns, per usual, and walked on, shooting.

You knelt down, scanning the perimeter for anybody watching. Rocket stormed out of the ship, shooting into the distance. You rolled your eyes and took small, quiet steps around to the other side.

Somebody grabbed your shoulder and whipped you around, cracking your back with a low crunch. You winced, but sent your fist forwards off of your momentum. It crashed into somebody’s face and sent them reeling, but only for half a second. They threw a punch to you, but you jumped backwards, spinning your knife in your hand. You danced around them, turning into a strong hit that sunk the blade into their side.

They cried out, but threw up a knee into your gut. You choked for a second, but caught yourself and pulled your hands back in. A trail of blood fell from their hip. You kicked out their knees and, quickly, as they fell, stomped your heel into their wound and brought your knife down into the other side.

“Matching scars,” you whispered, standing up and sending a forceful kick into the side of their head.

You could see Peter taking cover and shooting. Gamora emerged, sweaty, stained, but overall unharmed. She joined the rest of them, still catching her breath.

This isn’t so bad, you thought, taking a breath, they don’t even know how to fight.

Somebody sent a shot into your thigh. You cried out, collapsing forward onto the person before you. Somebody came from behind you and slammed your head down, holding you by the back of your hair. They lifted you slowly, pulling on your scalp and peeling you off of the ground.

Blood dripped down your pants, pooling at your ankles.

You reached back your good leg in a desperate attempt to break free, crushing the guys knee and sending him down, with you still in hand. You brought your hand up your side in a swing, the knife digging into the mans arm. He wrestled to keep his grasp on you, but you lept up, your thigh screaming in protest. You limped backwards.

You spun as another one reached out for you, this time a woman, and swiped by her face with your knife.

She dodged it, lowering herself and tripping you with her ankle, which was attached to a long, fit leg.

You hit your head, and your knife went flying off to your right, away from you. You rolled over, reaching out for it, but it was way too far out of reach. She jumped up to slam down into your chest, but you rolled backwards and she caught her knuckled on a hard rock and screamed out a curse.

You got to your feet, backing up in the direction of the rest of the fighting, hoping Peter or Gamora or Rocket or Drax would see. Another girl came to her side, one of those guns in her hands. She aimed it towards you, her eyes cold and intent.

You sprinted towards the ship, diving behind a small cover as she shot in your direction. The shot bounced off the ground and burned up a small bush, the heat burning your cheek. You swallowed, backing up slowly.

“Peter,” you said low, looking all around you, “Peter.”

You saw him getting closer, shooting in every which direction. Groot stood on the edge of the ship watching you.

“I am Groot,” he said as you knelt inside of the ships large door.

You nodded, out of breath, “anything left in there? Knives, swords, something that works? Anything?”

He shook his little head, waving to you. You sighed, forcing a smile back at him. You couldn’t just hide away. You had to help them. That was your job, along with the everybody else who were still fighting and yelling.

The woman with the broken knuckles and her friend grew closer, speaking in a language you couldn’t understand in soft voices. You pushed Groot to the side so he wouldn’t be seen. They came closer, still, and you felt panic slip into your thoughts.

You looked around the ship for something, for anything that you could use against a weapon like that. Your thigh dripped blood onto the cold metal with a low, ominous sound.

You had nothing. No choice but to hide, or to just go and hope you didn’t die, but that didn’t seem likely. Neither of them did. Maybe, if you timed it just right, Grabbed one of them, preferably the fire-gun wielding one, and yelled out for help, you’d get away with maybe a broken bone or two, or maybe a burned up arm. They were going to see you no matter what, if you just sat there.

You waited until they were as close to you as possible without them seeing anything. You inched out, behind the small cover that was there, beside the burning bush. You took in a deep breath.

Most of them were retreating over there. They’d probably forget about you and go help, get them from behind-

The one with the gun paused and took aim, and you shot your glance over, right at Peter’s back, bright red.

You shook your head. Now or never.

You jumped over the cover, tackling the gun girl at her torso, the shot going straight up into the trees around everybody. A large branch fell and crushed one of the guys shooting at Rocket with a loud bang.

You wrestled her for a moment, holding the gun parallel between both of your faces. Knuckle girl kicked at your stomach, but you squeezed your core and held on with your thighs, struggling to get the gun. All you needed was the gun.

Knuckle girl tackled the side of you, crying out as she did so, and the both of you rolled until you crashed into another rock, limbs flying and hair tangling.

You got on top of her, held her arms down. Her fingers twisted and bent in very wrong directions, and she tried desperately to keep her lip from quivering. You felt bad.

You looked over just as her friend charged up her gun. You fell back and held up the girl as your shield, and she screamed out, clawing at your face, drawing blood just above and under your eye. She screamed as the shot collided with her back. You let out a gasp of pain as her body slammed back into yours and pinned you against the rock. You had nowhere to go. The other girl was coming towards you.

A man came first and yanked you up. You kicked your feet, but he was too strong compared with the other ones. He held your arms to your back, your shoulders aching and cracking. You cried out.

“Peter!” You yelled as another man came and grabbed your waist, pulling you backwards, “PETER!”

He turned, his eyes focusing on you as they pulled you back. A shot came from the side and just nipped his shoulder, spinning him around. His face contorted into a look of pain, and he reached up his arm and shot four times int he direction of the shot that hit him.

“Peter!” You cried, more men coming and holding you back. Soon you could;t even kick. It was like you were suddenly paralyzed. You couldn’t move anything, it was all too heavy.

Peter reached for you, began to run, shooting the men at the sides and the approaching ones.

“PETER!” You yelled, struggling.

“Y/N!” He shouted. Gamora turned around, her hair bright and spinning like a dress around her neck. Rocket glanced over, eyes wide.

They pulled you backwards into the trees. Peter couldn’t run fast enough. Your breaths sped up. Tears fell over your eyes and stormed down your cheeks. You sobbed, trying to break out desperately.

A shot hit Peter’s arm again, knocking the wind out of him. He fell over slightly, kicked up dirt as he kept his balance and ran for you. It was all very slow.

You tried to keep your calm, and counted again.

One.

Peter cried out for you, aimed the guns forward.

Two.

He pulled the triggers and two beams of light shot past either side of your face, blowing your hair up. It hit at least one person, and you could move only slightly.

Three.

You pulled on your arm and tugged, relentlessly, until you could send an elbow back into the one holding your waist.

Four.

“PETER!” You cried, watching the blood drip from his fingers. He ran to you. As fats as he could.

Five.

They rained their hold on you and dragged you so fats you couldn’t even feel your feet bouncing up against the ground.

Six.

Suddenly there was a ship there. They were bringing you into that.

Seven.

“Peter, Peter!” You cried, your chest heavy and breaths too quick.

Eight.

He ran to you. God, he ran so fast. He shot aimlessly, and you could hear them bouncing off the ships walls.

Nine.

The door started to rise. The last time you heard his voice, he was screaming your name.

Ten.

It was quiet, except for your crying. They finally dropped you to the floor. Peter’s shots hit the ship, but the sound was muffled. The engine rumbled. You propped yourself up and looked around you. It was dark, and they were watching you.

“Peter...” you whispered.

Peter ran, watching as the ship began to lift. He thought he could still hear you screaming. He shot up there. Over and over again, until he was tackled down.

He slammed the butt of his gun into the guys head and knocked him out almost as quickly as they had fallen.

“Y/n!” He yelled, voice cracking under the strain of his loss.

He stared upwards, tears staining his cheeks. He didn’t even notice the blood covering him.

He turned and sprinted back to the milano, yelling for Gamora and Rocket to come on.

In his rush, he accidentally kicked Groot to the side, and he yelled out in his small squeaky voice, “I am Groot!”

He started up the ship and closed the door so fast it knocked down Rocket and Drax as he ran in.

They were up, and just barely in the distance he could see the ship you were on. He went as fast as he could, so fast, the ship cried and groaned and whirred.

Once they were out of the atmosphere, you were gone.

“No,” Peter struggled, slamming his hands into the console, “no, no, no, no, NO!”

“Peter,” Gamora tried, sadly.

“NO!” He screamed, knocking over his tapes with a heavy fist. He collapsed and held his head in his hands. And entire universe for you to disappear to. How would he ever find you?

Drax caught his breath where he sat on the floor. “We will find her, Peter.”

Peter ignored him, and he cried. The last thing he remembers hearing your voice say was his name, screaming it, crying it, begging for him to help you.

He sat up and moved forward. And began his new mission, more determined than ever.

[max-out-of-ten]

[Referring to the action to animation pot] There *is* a tv show on youtube about guardians of the galaxy (try guardians of the glalaxy marvel hq) but the episodes get switched out presumably to encourage people to pay to see the whole show and Peter has Spartax ancestry rather than Celestial ancestry but! Cosmo the telepathic and telekinetic dog is a thing!

it sounds cool but hhhhh money....

[mirkokosmos]

Guardians of the Galaxy - Screen Graphics

[comic-art-showcase]

Ant-Man,War Machine,Rocket and Hulk by Dan Hipp

[comic-art-showcase]

Nebula by Todd Nauck

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

Jealous

Peter Quill x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: angst | triggering  (Just a quick little one-shot)

Summary: Peter flirts with Ayesha in front of you, his girlfriend, and makes you jealous. He doesn’t realize this until much after the event, and tries to make it up to you.

Wordcount: 741

There was a brief moment of shock before the anger and hurt set in. you looked at him, speaking with the golden women before you all, all smirks and eyelashes and big, blue eyes. Your fists clenched until your knuckles were white, and a film of tears spread over your eyes.

When he had said he loved you, you knew it was too good to be true. He was beautiful, outward, strong... He explored space in his own spaceship with a team of aliens. What more could a little nerd like you want?

You swallowed back the words you wanted to throw at him, nodded respectively to Ayesha and then turned to leave, moving closer to Gamora instead of Peter. She glanced at you, concerned, flipping her hair off of her shoulder.

Peter didn’t even notice you weren’t reaching out to hold his hand. You rolled your eyes, chewing on the inside of your lip to hold in your outburst.

Once you were back on the milano, you locked yourself away in your little room, which was less of a rom and more of a curtain surrounding your half-assed bunk, but it was your space and it worked for you. You buried your head in your pillow like a sad little girl, and soon the tears leaked through and wet your cheeks, your lips, your nose.

“He doesn’t give a shit,” you muttered to yourself, not caring who would hear it outside your curtains. Your arms and legs were sore from the work of the day, and, drowning in your pillow of salty tears, you eventually fell asleep.

The next morning was drab and slow. You still, stubbornly, did not want to talk to Peter. Your dreams were filled with images of him flirting behind your back, doing other stuff behind your back, not caring that you loved him.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Peter said as you pushed open your curtains. You were a reck. Your makeup was smeared half down your face and you hate a matted knot on the back of your head from rolling around so much. You ignored him.

“Hey,” he said, reaching a hand out for yours as you made to walk away, “what’s going on?”

You pulled your hand away from his and shook your head, rubbing at your eyes with your free hand.

“Did something happen? Are you hurt?” He pulled you to face his direction and held your shoulders. He scanned your body.

You stared at him, shaking your head, tears bubbling over as your dreams replayed for you.

“Babe, what is it?”

You swallowed, sour morning breath sneaking down your throat. “I was standing right there,” you cracked out, quivering. “I was standing right there, and you were flirting with her and- is that what you do when I’m not around? Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me, but I did, and if this is how it’s going to be let me know so I can pack my bags.”

He stared at you, mouth slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t mean anything by yesterday- I was trying to be respectful-”

“You don't respect a woman by pretending you wanna fuck her,” you muttered, pulling yourself free from him grasp and moving to find something to eat. “You respect a woman the way you respect everything else.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean- it was a harmless mission, it was a joke- you don’t have to be upset-”

“Why is every man in the galaxy the same?” You asked, the anger suddenly building up, “every relationship I’ve been in, how I feel and what I want doesn’t matter as soon as there’s somebody prettier, somebody different-”

He took your hands again and held them tighter this time. “I’m not them. I do love you, and I- I’m sorry for... for all of this.”

You shook your head. “But this is who you are. You’ll just do it again.”

He moved his hands to your cheeks and pulled your forehead to his. “No matter how goddamn stupid I can be sometimes, I am in love with you, you and only you and I will never give you up, not for the world, not for the entire galaxy.”

You looked down, sniffing. “I feel like such a drama queen.”

He pressed a long kiss to your lips, his fingers running up past your ears. “You aren’t. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You nodded, “I know.”

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

In the Morning

Reader x Peter Quill

Warnings: fluff | angst | violence | triggering | language

Request #4 ( “don’t you understand anything?” ) & #9 ( “I like being alone.” ).

Summary: You drag Peter along to a job that you believe is important but wind up walking in a tragedy, which leads to the both of you bonding over what’s really important.

Word Count: 1,639

“Quill,” you said, voice low and monotoned, drowned out by the drone of a million other people monotoning around you.

“Quill,” you tried again, slightly louder and with a kick to his chair. He snored, clapped his lips a few times, and then let his head roll into his shoulder, still asleep.

“Quill,” you groaned, sitting upright, eyebrows raise as you stared at him laying lopsided in an old chair.

“Peter Quill” you half-shouted, standing up and above him. Your seat slid backwards and away from your legs with a low screech.

He opened his eyes lazily, his fingers folding into each other. He glanced up at you and then shrugged. “What,” he said, barely audible.

“Peter, wake up.” You said, kicking big outstretched legs.

He let out a long, tired sigh before he opened his eyes. “What’s the problem? I’m sleeping over here.”

You ignored him and gave him another kick. “Then wake up, dumbass. We have shit to do.”

He sat up, his back cracking slightly. “What time is it, anyway?”

“The middle of the day,” you said, exasperated, “don’t remember last night again? You know, I’m starting to think you have a problem. If you aren’t drunk off your ass every other night, you’re trying to get yourself killed. Tell me, Peter,” you lowered yourself to his eye level, bent at ninety degree angle to your legs, hands folded over your back, “do you hate yourself?”

He left out a breathy chuckle and pushed your head out of his way. “On the contrary, I think I’m the best fucking thing this galaxy has ever seen.”

You stood up straight and mimicked him, “on the contrary, you aren’t the only half-human, half-god thing that’s ever existed. The galaxy has seen you before, and its eaten you up and spit you back out. So come on. Let’s get some shit done before you go get all chewed up.”

He hung his head and laughed. “I’m tired.”

“Don’t you understand anything?” You asked, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up, “if you’re so important, Mr. Starlord, get up and start acting like it. Go help some people.”

He stretched out his neck and sighed. “Alright, alright, fine. What is it?”

A smug grin creeped onto your face and you crossed you arms. “An infinity stone.”

He had to do a double take, looking at you, face melting into dread. “There’s gotta be another person out there who can-”

“Thanos will get it. Most of the other people out there are the ones who work for him. Come on. Before somebody blows up the galaxy.”

He sighed and took his place next to you, strutting over to the milano with his chin down, wincing as his hangover worsened.

Peter was in charge of flying the ship, despite Rocket’s protests. Eventually, he settled down and tried fiddling with an old weapon while Groot sat on his head, lost in his fur.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” you said, sitting down quietly in a chair next to Peter.

He kept his eyes trained forward, though his head shook slightly and his jaw tensed. “Who made those stones anyway?”

You shrugged, “I’m sure there was a reason. But now, it’s power everybody wants. There’s so many people and so many of them want to control every part of everything.”

He sighed. A bright light from a distant star reflected off the window and shone vibrantly across his face. It warmed your heart, put a smile on your cheeks. “One day, the stones will all be accounted for, and they won’t be your problem.”

He shrugged, “always the optimist, Y/N. I wish it was that simple. But right now they’re the bane of my existence.”

You nodded, “sure, sure... But think about all the positives in your life now. You’ve got a nice little family set up here, a few dozen planets you could call home if you wanted to forget about everything, and, I mean, what girl wouldn’t wanna kick it with the lord of the stars.”

He rolled his eyes, a gentle chuckle escaping his slightly parted lips. “Where was it you said we were going, again?” He brows furrowed, and he leaned forward.

“Well, we should almost be there already. It was just a few jumps-” you glanced to the side, and the sight struck you so forcefully that you fell against your chair, mouth hanging on the next word you were supposed to speak but forgot. Instead, “-oh my God,” was all you could manage.

“Fuck!” He yelled, standing up and kicking at the console. He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. “Fuck!”

“Peter,” you tried, holding a hand out to him as he paced, “Peter, it’s alright-”

“Look at it!” He shouted, and suddenly everybody was standing behind him, “look at what happened! That is not alright!”

You turned to look once again. There was a planet, a small one, sure, but a planet nonetheless torn in half. Rocks reached out from its dead core, stretching out as though they were hands trying to find somebody to help them. A ring of debris began floating around it, and thick cracks on the surface showed that it probably wasn’t finished breaking into pieces.

“Peter, we have to go, now, or else we’re just as good as-”

He punched a nice dent in the wall and yelled. “I don’t care. I’m tired of never fucking saving anybody.” He stormed off to the other end of the ship and sat down in his bed, covered in curtains for privacy.

“Rocket,” you said, nodding towards the pilots seat.

“On it,” he muttered, shaking his head sadly.

Gamora stared on in disbelief, the corners of her lips pointed downwards. Drax looked lost somewhere in his head.

You looked once more as Rocket started pulling away from it. You didn’t know if it was inhabited, if it was anybody’s life, if it mattered at all in the grand scheme of things, but the sight of the shattered rock and dust floating away from where it was made to be saddened you so deeply you wanted to collapse. Sparks flew, just faintly, from the bubbling other half of the planet, like a lover crying out for its partner.

You turned away and sat on the floor, your head in your hands, silent.

Later that night you found yourself standing outside of Peter’s closed curtains, just staring at the blank, dust colors, trying to build up the guts to say something to him.

What would you even say? That you were sorry? That it wasn’t his fault and that we all just to move on and pretend to be okay and happy for now? Until it happens again? And again? And again and again and again and again and again?

Fuck it, you thought, and pulled on curtain slightly apart from the other.

“Go away,” Peter muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow he had buried himself in, “I’m sleeping.”

“No, you’re not, Peter,” you whispered, sitting down at the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry.”

He was quiet.

“I’m sorry I keep trying to find things for you to do, because I know you didn’t ask to have this role, and I know you don’t want to see more people get hurt. But it isn’t your fault. If anything, it’s mine. It’s mine for joining you, for trying to help, because it never works.”

He didn’t speak.

“And if I could take back everything and let you sleep, if I could go back far enough in time to stop myself from coming here and- and- and meeting you, I would, because it would make your life better...” Your voice cracked as a sob hit your chest. You began to shake, first your fingers, then your hands, then... everything else after that. You rocked yourself slightly back and forth, tears slithering down your face like snaked ready to bite.

“I like being alone...” Peter said, not turning to you, his voice even lower now.

You nodded, shaking your had and almost laughing. “I know. I thought I’d just tell you before I go.”

He froze slightly, and you could tell he was listening then.

“This would have happened with or without me being here to tell you. But you wouldn’t have known, and you wouldn't be here right now, miserable like you are, if I-”

“Stop,” he said, sitting up and grabbing your wrists, “you don’t make me miserable. God, you make me so fucking happy. The rest of this damned universe makes me miserable. But you’re the one thing in it that gives me hope. If more people were like you, this entire place would just be better.”

You looked at him, watched his face melt as he felt you trembled under his touch, as he noticed your tears making lakes down your cheeks. You lowered your eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

He reached out and pulled you in suddenly, hard. Your face hit his chest with a gentle thump and he pulled you backwards, on top of him, and held you there, squeezing your chest into his. “You don’t make me sad at all. And you don’t deserve to feel this way, either. Nobody does. But especially not you.”

You smiled into his shirt just slightly and closed your eyes to listen to his heart and his breathing.

“Just go to sleep, and everything will be better when you wake up in the morning,” he said, toying with your hair now.

He repeated it one last time after a moment of blissful silence.

“Everything will be better in the morning.”

And he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and that’s the last thing you remember before drifting off, the torn up planet far from your mind.

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

46. im in love... shit

starlord x reader

Requested by: @summertime-nd-butterflies

Days and nights truly had no meaning whatsoever in space. Instead, you divided your time into hours and places. With all the different timezones getting thrown around, life was just easier to say things at the time (according to the place you were at in the moment) and the name of the place you were.

For instance, you met a self-proclaimed “legendary outlaw” with the title “Starlord” at Knowhere, at about 1500. Upon first glance, you were taken aback by his confidence and outwardness. He joked openly about... well, anything, and didn’t take much notice to you, the self-proclaimed legendary nothing-in-particular. You owned the title proudly, and sat back in your seat and watched the empty-minded aliens drunkenly punch each other and screech in different languages.

He was just another person. A diamond in the rough, perhaps, but you had seen many of those pass through, and most of them ended up the same way; they were too outward or too “funny” and got their ass handed to them, quite literally, and never made it passed the golden age of 27. Of course, he was something special, though you’d never admit to anybody who asked, but you tried not to linger on it, because in this life, lingering only led to hurt and hurt led to... well, hurt led to a great-big downward spiral of pain and never-agains.

“You look bored,” he said, suddenly right in front of you.

You jumped, eyebrows raised as a lump formed in your throat. You looked up at him for a moment, angry at how you had let yourself get lost in your thoughts. Or rather, lost in your thoughts about another person, who was now right in front of you- and, oh, god, you still weren’t saying anything.

“Lack manners where you come from?” he chided, pulling up a rusty old chair next to you and taking a seat.

You took in a breath and shrugged. “You took me by surprise,” you said softly, your eyes gently grazing his face, his stubble, his eyes, his everything.

He smirked. “Sorry, then. You’re a pretty face-” he said, but quickly took in a sharp breath, “pretty, uh... pretty new face,” he hurried.

You chuckled. “Maybe to you, but I’ve been around here for a while now. I haven’t seen you, either.”

He shifted, leaning back slightly. “Well then I guess it was about time we met,” he said, reaching out a hand for yours, “I’m Peter Quill, legendary outlaw, though you may know me as Starlord.”

You let your hand fold around his, small and soft. “No, actually I haven’t heard of you.”

His expression faltered for a second, but he quickly reclaimed his overbearing confidence. “Well now you have.”

“I suppose,” you said, suddenly bored.

“And what about you? You have a name?”

You thought for a moment. You glanced around, and sat up straight, your hands folded over your stomach. “Y/N,” you said, meeting his eyes with your own, “I am merely a speck of dust surviving in a universe infinitely too big for my tiny mind to comprehend.”

“Ah,” he said, eyebrows raised, the corners of his mouth pointed upwards, “so we’ve got ourselves a self-aware one here. Tell me, what’s that like?”

You rolled your eyes, “poetic, I’d prefer.”

“Well poetic, it’s great to meet you. I’ve got a nice little ship parked around the corner, and if you wouldn’t mind, these guys aren’t really my style.”

You weighed the thought in your head. The men were obnoxious and loud and rude, but you had been staying there to be alone. To bask in your speck-lyhood, pondering the wonders of the universe in your little metal chair while drunken fights led to bloodied noses and in some cases, missing limbs.

“I could use a break from these idiots,” you grunted, standing, “but only for a minute.”

He nodded, “of course, of course. I’ve got some friends there, I’m sure you’d like to meet them.”

You held your head high, eyes watching the space around you like a deer watching a hunter pass.

By the time you had arrived, the people you were supposed to meet were gone.

“What kind of game are you playing, Quilt?” You hissed, jaw clenching.

He held his hands up, smiling, “it’s Quill, actually, and I don’t know how to play games. They were here, they must be off having a good time now. They’ll be back.”

You let out a small hm and continued on, and soon you ended up sitting on a small bench beside him, talking about past adventures.

“You mean to tell me you went out in space without a mask, without anything, and you’re still alive?” You asked, almost laughing in disbelief.

He chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s complicated. I was saving a friend’s life.”

You nodded, almost praisingly. “Good man.”

The two of you spent a few days talking and laughing, and you found yourself growing more and more fond of the strange outlaw man. Every night you went to bed thinking of his arms, wishing (to your embarrassment) that he was holding you with them as you drifted off. You had only known each other for a short period of time, but you could swear you would stare at him for a lifetime if it was possible.

You were walking towards the ship to visit him, earlier than usual (as you just couldn’t wait), when it happened. You heard him inside, with those friends of his who you had met for a brief second when they had returned from who-knows-where, all grumpy and annoyed at each other. Your heart fluttered but you suppressed the sensation, instead focusing not he bounce of your body as you placed each eager step.

Soon enough you could make out a few words. He was talking about you. You could make out the words “beautiful” and “smart” and “so much fun” and you wanted to explode with excitement. You made to knock on the side, but you hesitated as he began to mutter. Your smile faded.

“Quill,” said a hoarse voice, “Peter, it’s fine. You like the girl. You haven’t stopped talking about her all week.”

There was a second of silence. “I don’t know, Rocket, we just met. I don’t think she’d drop her mysterious life off at the next exit and come with us...”

“But, my friend, you want her to come with us. That means something, especially for you.”

You felt your cheeks redden and your limbs go numb. You leaned in closer.

Quietly, timidly, you could hear him sigh and whisper. “Shit... I’m in love.”

You stepped back, eyebrows raised, heart exploding into colors and emotions and- you gave it a moment of deep thought- maybe love, too. Your instincts said it was too soon, but your sappy lovestruck side said it was “love at first sight” and to go for it because you only get one Starlord in your life. Some people didn’t even get one. you felt yourself begin to feel bad for those people.

And so you knocked on the side of the ship and promptly allowed yourself in. He gave his friend Rocket, a tiny furry little thing a quick “good-timing” glance and smiled, teeth and all, in your direction.

Instead of saying hi, you greeted him merrily with a big kiss, your fingers fitting around that little warm place where his neck meets his head, your fingers ruffling up his freshly bed-frizzed hair. To your relief, he kissed you back, his arms wrapping around your waist as he melted into you.

“I’ve given it about ten seconds of thought but I’ve never been more sure in my life,” you whispered onto his lips, eyes still closed, “I love you, too, legendary outlaw.”

[theoneandonlyowengrady]

Yondu’s Daughter

// Peter’s Lover

Peter Quill x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: The reader is Yondu’s daughter, who also happens to be in love with Peter Quill. One day, in a surge of love for the man, the reader ended up in a bit of a situation. Instead of coming clean about it, she decides to hide it as long as she can. Also !! I’ve included gifs as the story goes on, just to make it more story-book-esque. Tell me if you like it !!

To be a ravager was to be everything your father honored, everything the love of your life cherished, and everything you believed was right in the universe. To be free. Free of obligation, free of ties binding you to people and places, free of tyranny and government. You believed in these ideals since you were a child, watching as your father picked up another small child to bring to the planet-man.

But that kid- Peter, he said he was called- was different. You had always been friends growing up, which Yondu appreciated to some extent, and had, somewhere along the way, mixed up the border between friendship and love in your teenage years. You thought back on the time fondly, remembering his little stubble, his cocky, naive outlook on life that screamed wonderful to you. and he was beautiful. Always, he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen.

Your father would not have approved of the relationship. Not like he would be able to do anything about it, but the man was important to you. So after your first night with Quill, you got up early, cleaned yourself up, and prompt pretended the entire thing was just a phase the both of you were going through. You put on a grumpy smile and dressed in your usual dirty mop, and Yondu did not suspect a thing.

The months had gone by slowly, the sneaking around becoming more of a chore than a fun game of hide-and-seek. Peter didn’t understand why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, and with his jaw clenched and eyes wet, he yelled.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He asked, muscles clenched. It almost scared you.

“Never,” you hissed, dropping your head to your hands, fuming, “it’s just, I’m his daughter, and he basically raised you, he’d never-”

“He wouldn’t care!” Peter struggled, grabbing you by your arms and staring into your eyes, hurt raging behind his skull.

“Of course he would, I’m just not ready-”

“You try to make him seem like this greta, typical father guy, but he isn’t! He’s a jerk, and-”

“-a jerk who saved your hopeless human life and knows that he raised you to be a jerk just like him!” You yelled, shoving him away from you. Your hands began to tremble as the bitter melting of heartbreak began to crack within your chest.

He stared forward dumbly for a minute before he turned and left. You decided that meant it was all over for now. So you went to sleep crying, your nose stuffed and head throbbing by the time peace finally claimed you for a few precious hours.

The words echoed in your head as your dreams and nightmares took you hostage in the night. Ashamed. Daughter. Father. Jerk.

A few weeks later, alone again as you had slowly began to prefer, you noticed things begin to change. With you. With your body. You pushed off the signs for another few weeks, taking random odd jobs smuggling and stealing until finally some people started to whisper. Their stares nearly drove you out of your mind.

Luckily, you wouldn’t be visiting your father anytime soon, which gave you time to think.

Silently in the night you took a small ship from the port where you had been parked, your mind running wild. Knowing the truth- however much you hated the thought- you knew you had to find Peter, and you also knew that that was not an easy task.

You wandered around to Knowhere, scanning the area for his ship, leg shaking beneath you.

“Come on, Peter...” you muttered, gnawing on your lower lip.

Days went by, and not a sign of the man showed up. Anywhere. You figured the only person who might have a shot at knowing was your dad, but then again, he would notice such a drastic change very quickly. And then there would be two people hunting down Peter Quill.

A few more months. You found a small place to settle down for a little while as you tried to cope with your situation. You had whispers that Starlord AKA Peter Quill was getting into some trouble with some infinity stones, and after asking about what on earth those were, you began to worry.

What if you never figured out what to do? You had a kid, a kid with no dad, a kid with no granddad, with a ravager mom... You wanted a different kind of life for a child, you always have, even though you never intended on being pregnant. You and Peter both grew up that way, and, well, look at the mess-

You fell back on your bed, hair sprawling around you, the little bump on your belly just barely visible in your line of sight. 

Look at this mess, you thought, shoving a pillow under your neck, I need help, somebody’s help.

You weighed the options in your mind. Your father would be angry- so angry, and you wouldn’t be able to stop his rage. At Peter for leaving, at you for keeping such a secret from him. And Peter- well, maybe Peter was over your little fight. Then again, maybe he was with another girl... The thought made you want to throw up. Your eyes welled with warm, biting tears, and you covered your face with your arms.

Flying around alone was scary sometimes. You never knew what trouble you’d get into, what kind of people you’d meet. Yet somehow you built put he courage each time you saw somebody new to ask about Peter. Apparently he was running around with a new little gang, a little raccoon and tree-thing that was surprisingly cute. A very big man who never wore a shirt.

And a girl. A girl who some claimed he risked his life for.

The thought warmed your heart and froze your should simultaneously. You thanked ever stranger kindly and continued on your journey, though everyday you’d find a reason to cry more and more.

One day, after waking up and putting on a brave face, you wandered into a place you hadn’t checked before. Some people had directed you in that general direction, though you hadn’t dared go too far away from where you were comfortable. You didn’t have that much longer to go into the pregnancy, and you couldn’t do this all by yourself, so you went on in the hopes that maybe luck would be on your side.

And what would you know? A little ways away was a small little ship, orange and faded against the backdrop of the universe. A shiver went up your spine and landed at your heart, squeezing it until your blood was about to burst with adrenaline. You got as close as you could, slowly easing your way towards him. He made no effort to move.

The phone on the ship began to ring, which startled you, because usually you’d be the one doing the calling. With shaking hands you answered, and up on a small screen appeared Peter’s face. Recognition flashed across his eyes like a glint of light, and suddenly his annoyed expression softened.

Without much thought, you placed your hand on the screen over his face, choking back tears. The kind of tears that were just wet all over. That didn’t stop for anything. You covered your moth with your free hand and let out a muffled, cracking sob.

“I found you,” you said.

He opened his mouth, eyes set with a deep sadness and jaw locked tight.

“Peter?” Someone asked, entering the picture, “who’s this?”

It was a girl, with velvety green skin and dark, long hair. You held your breath, hiding your hurt behind the hand that was pressed over your mouth.

“She’s, uh...” Peter scrambled, breaking his watch on you and looking down, “somebody that I grew up with...”

“Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “I’m Gamora.”

You lowered your hand and forced up a polite smile, the corners of your lips twitching in protest. “Hello. I’m Y/N.”

Peter glanced at Gamora and then back at you. Your heart shattered and trickled down into your stomach. You could feel the acids chewing away at everything that could ever love.

“Peter, I... I wouldn’t have come, but I’ve been looking for you... There’s something-” you paused, taking in a sharp, heavy breath. “There’s something I think you should know.”

Gamora threw Peter a look and punched his shoulder, walking away with her head shaking.

“What is it?” He asked, swallowing.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, his stubble, the way his eyes moved, examining your own... You felt a tear fall from your eye and land on the console in front of you.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You looked down, one hand placed carefully buy firmly over the bump in your stomach. You could leave now, you thought, and just not ever make him have to worry about it. You weren’t sure which he would want. You never talked about kids. He had never known his dad, but you weren’t sure he was that sentimental about this sort of thing. You wished he could be. But reality took you by the hand and said he probably wasn’t. I mean, he was raised by ravagers.

Then again, so were you.

“I have something to show you,” you said softly, “I don’t want you to be afraid or feel... Well, I need you, Peter. For better or for worse we were something, and I need you again, for one second. Just one second. And if you’re going to walk out of my life forever after that, then fine. I guess I’ll just learn another lesson.”

He stared into the screen, lips just barely parted, the kind of thing he does when he's thinking and he's sad and doesn’t know what to say. After a moment, he nodded, and the video died. You were left sitting there, alone, suddenly engulfed in the loudest silence you had ever heard in your life.

A few minutes went by before Peter was on your small, messy ship. You had yourself wrapped up in a blanket, covered from shoulders down, and you were sitting on a small chair, your face red and shaded under the dim flickering light.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He asked as soon as soon as he was free from his mask, making his way towards you. “Are you sick?”

You shook your head and looked up at him, slowly rising as though your lips were struck by some sort of magnetic connection. His eyes remained glued to your face, eyes swollen and puffy from crying for so, so long.

“Peter... I’m so, so sorry. I thought I would be alone. You don’t understand what a relief this is to me...” You whispered, looking away form him now, “but i understand, I really do, if you can’t... If you can’t help me-”

He took your shoulders in his hands and forced a smile on his face. “Of course I’ll help you. What do you need? Anything.”

You looked down at the blanket draped over your large belly. “I know you probably don’t love me anymore, but I’m hoping you can love it.”

He looked at you for a moment, confused.

The blanket fell to the floor with a light, airy tap. You were clothed, though the bump was obvious. Fighting the urge to wrap your arms around your lower body and sit or turn away from him, you stood there, feeling his stare pierce you.

At first, he did not look down. the first sign that something with him had changed. Whether it be him or his feelings for you, it didn’t matter now. You were doing what you needed to do. After a moment of eye contact and heavy breathing, eyes filled with a stinging salty glaze, he glanced down at the rest of your body, his lips pink as his eyes began to water like yours.

“Y/N?” He asked, stricken, numb.

You took a step towards him, but he tensed. “Peter, I’ve been looking for you for months. This is yours...” You tried, tried so desperately to make it easy. He wouldn’t move towards you.

“I can’t do this-” he said, his voice skipping and dropping a few octaves, “a dad- I can’t be a dad-”

You moved another step closer to him, and this time he remained still.

“You don’t have to stay with me. But this is real, this is happening, and I need help, at least for a little while...”

He reached a hand out and placed it on your cheek. It felt different. More rough, calloused. But still warm. You let your head melt away under his touch, and your eyes closed.

Because your eyes were closed, you didn’t see the sad smile that his lips pressed up into, the flash of that old rekindled love in his eyes. Once yours reopened, it was gone.

“Have you told Yondu?” Peter asked, lowering his hand and glancing down at your belly again.

“No, I was trying to find you first. He would... I don’t think he would be happy if any man left me like this, especially you, Peter.”

He glanced down once again, his posture weakening. His body shifted to face you more dead-on, and his hand twitched up.

“You can touch it, Peter,” you whispered, moving slightly closer still.

He looked up at you quickly, but promptly put a hand on your stomach, his eyes red and fingers shaking.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He asked, his voice cracking, cheeks the warmest shade of red you had ever seen. A tear fell from his eye, bouncing off his cheek and dripping to his chin.

“Yes,” you said, suddenly stuffed up. You stepped into him one last time, your hands reaching up to hold his neck, your fingers scratching his hairline. “You’re a dad, already, Peter. And I’m a mom. We can be everything for this baby that we never had.”

He put his other hand on your stomach, and it felt as though he was holding you together. Once again that smiled played on his lips, that love danced in his blue eyes shimmering in the faint light.

“I never stopped loving you, Peter,” you said, breaking. Tears rained from your eyes like a storm, wetting your lips and your neck.

He raised his hand to wipe your tears, and brought your head in to his. He pressed his lips to your forehead and wrapped his arms gently around you and pulled you in close. Suddenly the universe made sense again.

Suddenly everything was going to be alright.

You had both agreed to tell Yondu together. Announcing it might be the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. Peter put his coat around you and you held it closed, loosely, over your bump, which was growing too larger to hide.

He had one hand on the small of your back as you walked towards your father. Some stared, some rolled their eyes, some welcomed you both back, but most didn’t take any notice.

“Dad,” you said, forcing a playful smile onto your face, “we’re home.”

He looked up, taking in the both of you standing before him. He looked between you to, at the faintest little gap between your bodies. He stood straight, forcing a smile to his lips. “Hey, darlin’. What’s going on here?”

You sniffed, glancing up at Peter who gave you a sure nod, his hand rubbing your back, right along your spine.

“Dad, Peter and I have been seeing each other for a long time now. I love him.”

He raised his eyebrows, his lips falling apart from each other. He looked to you and then to Peter. And then his face softened.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I thought you’d be angry-” you tried, stepping forward to hug him. The coat came open, parting for your stomach.

Yondu stepped back, taking in your new form. He looked to Peter again, his face twisting into something... confused. Almost betrayed, almost... Almost like he didn’t know what to say or feel.

“Dad,” you said, lips shaking, “everything is okay. I’ve wanted to come home and tell you, really, but I had to find Peter first-”

“You mean to tell me,” he said, ignoring you and stepping towards Peter, “that while we were out there fighting, while you were running around with that green chick, you and my daughter were gonna have a baby?”

Peter stiffened himself, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t know.”

Yondu grabbed him and put him to the wall, spit flying from his lips as he spoke. “You didn’t know? What happened, then? You left her? You left her, alone, with a child?”

Peter’s eyes began to water, and he pushed Yondu back. “I didn’t know.”

Yondu stared at him, lost, and turn to you. “You’re having a baby.” He said.

You nodded, moving yourself carefully between them. “Yes, dad, and I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

He looked to Peter once again, and then fell back into a chair, his body deflating with a frustrated sigh. He shook his head. “My kids having a kid,” he muttered, “with the boy I saved.”

You tried to force up a smile. But soon, Yondu began to laugh. You glanced at Peter, who was just as confused as you were.

“My kid,” he said, giddy, “man am I glad I didn’t bring you to your dad, boy.”

Peter put his hand back on your back, and Yondu smiled a little bit.

“Tell, Y/N, are you happy?”

You looked up at Peter, one hand finding your belly.

“Yeah,” you said, “I am.”

A little while later, you gave birth to a little boy with a full head of light-colored hair. He was a strong kid. He cried a lot, like to eat, loved to be held. Peter cried when he held him for the first time. Yondu laughed and gave him a hardy slap on the shoulder.

“Are you staying, Peter?” You asked one night, the baby fast asleep on your chest and Peter laying beside you.

He looked over at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I think I just might,” he whispered, sitting up and placing a kiss on the boy’s head before doing the same to you.

“I never thought I could love something so weird looking so much.”

You laughed.

“I knew I could. I love you, don’t I?” You giggled, straining your neck to kiss him, right on his lips.

He sank into it, still smiling. “I am pretty weird, aren’t I?”