#gotg x reader

The air on the artificially-constructed world of Kalos-IV was a peculiar thing, a permanent, climate-controlled twilight that tasted faintly of copper and recycled ozone. It was the kind of place where legitimate business went to die a quiet death, and illegitimate business thrived in the cacophonous, neon-lit chaos that took its place. The market, known only to those who needed to know it as the “Bazaar of a Thousand Regrets,” was a sprawling, multi-leveled labyrinth of stalls, temporary structures, and repurposed cargo containers. It was the exact sort of place where a well-meaning Nova Corps officer would tell you to never, ever go, and the exact sort of place where the Milano’s crew found themselves at least once a quarter for supplies that couldn’t be found anywhere else.

You’d been walking for what felt like hours. The initial thrill of seeing the impossible array of alien species—hulking, four-armed Brinaris, hissing, translucent Yautja, and squat, fur-covered Vellusi—had long since given way to a bone-deep weariness. Your feet ached in your boots. The constant press of bodies, a tide of strange textures and smells, was exhausting. Peter was up ahead, his red leather jacket a familiar beacon in the crowd as he chatted with Drax about something you couldn’t quite hear over the din. Gamora walked beside you, her posture a study in coiled alertness, her eyes scanning the crowd with the practiced ease of a former assassin.

And then there was Rocket.

He was trying to navigate the forest of legs, his small, furry form a stark contrast to the towering aliens that surrounded him. He was grumbling, a constant, low-level stream of profanity directed at the shins of a group of oblivious, six-legged Lax’thorians who had just blocked his path for the third time. His ears were flat against his head, his tail twitching with irritation. He was a master engineer, a brilliant tactician, a being capable of building a bomb that could crack a small moon, but here, in the Bazaar of a Thousand Regrets, he was a creature of shin-height, constantly jostled and overlooked.

You watched him for a moment longer, a familiar, fond ache settling in your chest. It was the same feeling you got when you saw him doze off after a long job, his small body curled up on a pile of scrap metal in the Milano’s cargo bay, or when he’d get so caught up explaining the intricate workings of a new gun that his voice would lose its usual cynical edge and become animated, bright. He was, in your opinion, the most incredible person—raccoon, person—you’d ever met.

Another alien, a massive, lumbering creature with tusks the size of your forearm, jostled Rocket, nearly sending him sprawling. The sharp, angry yelp that escaped him was your final cue.

Without a second thought, you broke away from Gamora’s side. You moved through the crowd with a singular focus, bending at the waist as you reached him. Your arms slid around his small, tense body, and in one fluid motion, you scooped him up.

“Wha- HEY!” Rocket’s protest was immediate, a startled, indignant yelp. For a split second, he was a whirlwind of fur and panic, his claws twitching instinctively. “Put me down! What in the- I was FINE! I had it under control! I was about to bite that guy’s ankle clean off!”

But you were already settling him against your chest, cradling him like a very bristly, very argumentative baby. You held him securely, one arm beneath him, the other wrapped around his back, mindful, as you always were, to keep your hand away from the base of his tail and to not put any pressure on his ears. He was warm and surprisingly solid.

You looked down at him, a sleepy, utterly unbothered smile playing on your lips. The exhaustion of the long day had softened your features, and there was a gentle, dreamy look in your eyes. “Now you won’t get pushed around,” you said, your voice soft, meant only for him. “Or stepped over. I don’t mind carrying you.”

He froze, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come. This had happened before. Twice, actually. Once on a chaotic spaceport on Tivanus, and once during a particularly long trek through a muddy swamp planet. Both times, he had grumbled, he had protested, he had insisted he was perfectly capable of walking on his own four paws, thank you very much. And both times, he had ended up silent and still in your arms, lulled by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and your warmth.

This time was no different. His ears, which had been flattened in annoyance, began to relax. His tail, which had been lashing, gave a final, half-hearted flick and then curled loosely around your wrist. He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the sleeve of your jacket, but the tension in his small frame was melting away by the second. It was impossible to stay angry while being held like this. You were so warm.

He’d never admit it, but it was a heat he craved. Humans, he’d discovered, ran warmer than most humanoid species. And sleepy humans? Sleepy humans were like portable space heaters. And you, a young human, were the warmest of all. Your body was smaller, he’d reasoned to himself the first time this happened, so the heat was just more concentrated. A perfect, fur-sink-into-it warmth. And the smell. He’d never mention that, either. It wasn’t perfume or cologne, none of that chemical garbage. It was just… you. The soft, sweet scent of vanilla from that stupidly expensive body soap you liked, mixed with the spicier, warmer scent of gingerbread from the shampoo Peter always made sure to stock for you.

He let out a long, slow breath, his body going limp against you. The cacophony of the market faded to a dull roar. The press of the crowd no longer mattered. Your arms were a safe harbor, your chest a soft, warm pillow. His eyes grew heavy. The rhythmic sway of your walk, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, it was all too much. He was tired. Tired from the job, tired from navigating a galaxy that wasn’t built for his size, tired from pretending he didn’t like this. His eyes closed. His little paws, which had been braced against your arm, relaxed and curled inward. Within minutes, he was asleep.

He drifted back to consciousness an hour later, slowly, like surfacing through warm water. The first thing he registered was the continued, gentle rocking motion of your walk. The second was the soft fabric of your jacket against his cheek. The third was the sound of voices. Gamora, to his left, and you, to his… everywhere. He was still cradled in your arms.

He kept his eyes firmly shut. Groot was back on the Milano, busy with growing in his new pot, which meant no one was going to tattle on him for being awake. He could just… stay here. Just for a little while longer. He burrowed his face a fraction of an inch deeper into the crook of your arm, feigning the deep, boneless sleep of the truly exhausted.

“…do find some similarities,” you were saying. Your voice was a low, sleepy murmur, and he felt the words vibrate through your chest, a soothing hum against his fur. “The sense of humor is… I mean, I think a lot of it is just human. It’s the same kind of stupid. And the music thing, obviously.”

“Yes,” Gamora’s voice was a smooth, thoughtful contralto. “I have noticed that Quill’s nostalgia is a powerful force. It is… endearing. At times.” There was a pause. “Do you find comfort in it? His familiarity? Being of the same race, in a place so far from your home world?”

You were quiet for a moment. Rocket felt your grip on him tighten almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I do,” you said finally. “It’s nice to have someone who just… gets it. Without having to explain. The little things, you know? Like what a dog is, or why Christmas is a big deal. He makes it less… lonely.”

“Then he is your favorite,” Gamora stated, and there was a hint of a knowing smile in her voice. “Among us. It is only natural.”

Rocket felt a strange, cold knot tighten in his stomach. Favorite. Of course the kid’s favorite was Quill. Same planet, same stupid music, same stupid… everything. It was logical. It was fine. He didn’t care. He was a master criminal, a genius, he didn’t need to be some human kid’s favorite. The knot tightened further. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

And then your arms tightened around him. It was a subtle movement, but to Rocket, who had his eyes closed and his senses attuned to you in a way he refused to analyze, it was as clear as a shout. You had stopped walking.

“Peter?” you said, and there was a strange note in your voice. A note of… confusion? Disbelief? “No.”

Rocket’s ears, hidden against your chest, twitched.

“No?” Gamora echoed, her voice genuinely curious now.

“No,” you repeated, firmer this time. “My favorite is Rocket.”

The cold knot in Rocket’s stomach evaporated, replaced by a sudden, electric jolt. A surge of something hot and fierce and utterly wonderful shot through him. His heart, which he was sure had just stopped, started beating again, double-time. He was intensely grateful his face was hidden.

“Rocket?” Gamora’s voice was a mix of surprise and dawning amusement. “Not Quill?”

“Rocket,” you confirmed. Your voice was soft, but there was a bedrock of conviction in it. You looked down at the 'sleeping' bundle in your arms, and though Rocket kept his eyes closed, he could feel your gaze. It was like a physical warmth. “He’s my favourite. He’s the coolest person I know.”

Rocket’s tail, which had been lying limply around your wrist, gave an involuntary twitch and curled more around it. Coolest. She said coolest.

“I mean, he’s a raccoon, I know,” you continued, a small, fond smile in your voice, “but he’s like… the coolest friend I have. All of his inventions are incredible. Do you know he built a bomb once that could’ve blown up a mountain? And he made a toaster? Do you know how difficult is it to make a toaster? He’s a genius. A grumpy, sometimes bite-y genius, but a genius. And he’s loyal. He’d never, ever leave anyone behind. How could he not be my favorite?”

Rocket was beaming. It was a full-body experience. If anyone had been looking at the small, furry creature cradled in your arms, they would have seen a sleeping raccoon whose mouth had curved into a distinct, smug little smile. His mind was already racing ahead, cataloging the perfect moment to bring this up. Later. On the ship. When Quill was being particularly insufferable. He’d just saunter up, maybe clean his claws nonchalantly, and drop the bomb. "The kid says I’m her favourite, you know. Said I was the coolest. Which, by the transitive property of coolness, means I am objectively cooler than you. I don’t make the rules, Quill, I just get to rub your face in them." He was going to savor it.

Gamora laughed. It was a low, genuine sound. “I understand completely,” she said. “He is… formidable. In a very small, very angry package. I would pick him over Quill, as well. I would pick anyone over Quill, for that matter.”

“Hey!” Peter’s voice rang out from a few paces ahead. He had turned around, his hands on his hips, a look of mock outrage on his face. “I heard that! I heard both of you!”

“What is it you humans say? ‘No offense’?”

“Hell no!” Peter started walking backward, keeping his eyes on you. “I am taking offense! I am writing this down in my journal, and I am holding this grudge until the day I die! My own species, kid! My own flesh and blood! betrayed by my favorite saying her favorite is the furry gremlin who got me to steal my prosthetic leg that one time!”

Drax, who had been walking patiently beside Peter, looked between him and the group with a placid expression. “I, too, would choose the rabbit,” he stated, his voice a low rumble that carried through the crowd. “His methods, while unorthodox, demonstrate a tactical cunning that Quill sorely lacks. Quill relies on dance-offs and luck. Those are not reliable strategies.”

“His name is Rocket, he’s not a rabbit, and you are all dead to me!” Peter declared, spinning back around and stalking forward with exaggerated indignation.

In your arms, Rocket’s smile had grown so wide it was threatening to split his face. He listened to Peter’s sputtering protests, to Drax’s matter-of-fact insults, to Gamora’s quiet, amused chuckles. He was warm, he was comfortable, he was surrounded by the sounds of his dysfunctional, bickering family, and he was, unequivocally, undeniably, the favorite.

He let out a contented sigh, a tiny sound he was sure no one would hear over Peter’s continued grumbling about “loyalty” and “the sanctity of the human connection.” He shifted slightly in your arms, pretending to be readjusting in his sleep, and buried his face deeper into the soft, vanilla-and-gingerbread scent of your jacket.

He didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t going to. Not until they were back on the Milano. Not until he’d had at least another hour of this. This, he decided, was his favorite thing. The kid—his kid—was his favorite. And that was a secret he was perfectly fine with everyone knowing, even if he’d never, ever say it out loud. For now, this was perfect. He was right where he belonged.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You were the team’s healer, which is without a doubt the backbone of a team. Always putting yourself at risk to keep everyone in fighting shape. Peter had seen you patch up the team dozens of times, but for some reason, watching you fuss over Strange—checking his wounds extra carefully, giving him a warm smile—rubbed him the wrong way.

“Oh wow, must be nice,” Peter muttered, watching you press a hand to Strange’s shoulder, your healing energy glowing softly. “Get saved once and suddenly you’re someone’s favorite patient.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He tried to play it off, acting like he didn’t care, but Rocket saw right through him. “You got somethin’ to say, Quill?” Rocket smirked. “Or you just gonna glare at the wizard all day?”

“I’m not glaring,” Peter scoffed, arms crossed. “I’m just… observing. Pretty closely. For tactical reasons!”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° You didn’t even notice Peter sulking at first. But when he started getting more reckless—jumping into fights he shouldn’t, taking unnecessary hits—you realized something was off.

“Quill, what the hell are you doing?!” you scolded, rushing to heal him after he took a particularly nasty hit.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “Oh, you’re worried about me now?” he shot back, wincing as you worked. “Thought I had to be a fancy magic man to get that kind of VIP treatment.” It took you a second to realize—he was jealous. Adorably, stupidly jealous.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “Peter,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I focus on healing people who need it the most. Strange almost got blasted saving me. I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he muttered. “Big damn hero, saved the pretty healer, got all the attention.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little. “You know, if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.” That shut him up real quick.

additional note ! this request was meant to be platonic so i hope i kept it that way 😭

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

1. "I'd let you ruin my life."

w/c: 670

You're sitting on your knees on the floor of the medbay, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged across your cheek as you try to rewire one of the medbots Cosmo said went haywire after a power surge.

"Bet it's just a fried regulator," you mutter, wrist-deep in tangled wires. "Again."

Next to you, a stranger- tall, charming smile, definitely not from around here- is leaning against the wall, watching you work with an amused sort of interest.

"You always this good with your hands?" he asks.

You scoff without looking up. "Buy me dinner first."

He laughs, warm and easy, and it catches you off guard. "Sure thing."

You then glance up, and for a split second, he looks... intrigued. "You know, I might just let you ruin my life," you joke, teasingly. "Honestly, you've got the face for it."

It's stupid, lighthearted, the kind of thing people say when the work is boring and someone's flirting just enough to make the afternoon go by faster.

You don't mean it. Obviously.

But someone else hears it.

You don't notice Adam in the doorway until the other guy glances past you and stiffens slightly. You turn, wires still in hand, and see him standing there- quiet, golden, unreadable.

Your breath catches.

"Adam? You okay?"

He doesn't speak for a moment. But then he steps forward, a little too tense. "I was looking for you."

The stranger shifts, clearly picking up on the change in the air. "She's a bit busy, mate."

Adam's eyes flick to him briefly. "She's always busy... mate," he replies, too soft to be rude, but too pointed to be polite.

You hold back a laugh at his attempt of using the word 'mate'. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"I just needed to ask you someting," he says, but there's a strange undercurrent in his voice. "But I think I should wait. Since you're... making life decisions."

"Huh?"

He then looks at you, really looks. Like he's not just hearing the words you said but carrying them, weighing them, turning them over until they've become something way heavier than you had ever meant them to be.

"You said you'd let him ruin your life."

"Adam," you blink. "It was a joke."

"It didn't sound funny."

"People say stuff like that all the time," you say, setting the wires down and pushing yourself to your feet. "It's not serious. It doesn't mean anything."

He watches you carefully.

You sigh, brushing your hands on your pants. "It's just flirting."

"I see."

The stranger clearly feels the awkward tension and slips out with a quick "I'll come back later," leaving you and Adam alone in the medbay's quiet.

You look up at him. "You're not mad, are you?"

"No," he says. Then, after a moment, "I would never ruin your life... Just so you know."

You stare at him, your heart stalling a little.

"But if I did," he continues quietly, "it would be by accident. And I'd fix it."

You don't know what to say. The way he says it- it's not a pickup line. It's not a joke. It's not even flirtation.

It's a promise.

He stands there, golden and sincere, and you suddenly realize that the kind of love Adam offers isn't loud or messy or dramatic. It's quiet, carefully, steady. The kind of love that lingers in doorways and pays attention when no one else is looking.

You step closer.

"I wouldn't let anyone ruin my life," you say softly. "Unless it was you."

His brow creases. "But I just said-"

"I know," you interrupt gently. "And that's exactly why."

He exhales slowly, shoulders relaxing just a little.

You smile. "Hey, you wanna help me fix this bot?"

He blinks. "I might ruin it if I do."

You laugh, tugging him down to sit next to you.

"It'll be fine," you say. "But let's start with you just holding the flashlight."

He beams like it's the greatest honor in the galaxy.

And maybe, in some sort of way, it is.

2. "Buy me a drink and I'll love you forever."

w/c: 430

You say it so easily.

One hand on the bar, your chin resting in the other, grinning lazily at the guy beside you. Your voice lifts over the crowd and straight into Adam's ears like it belongs there.

"Buy me a drink and I'll love you forever."

Adam is startled.

He was walking by. That's all. Just passing through, minding his own business, and then bam- those words. That voice. You.

His chest goes tight.

You'll love him... forever? For buying you a drink?

He stops walking. Turns around. Eyes locked on you now. You're still talking to the guy, while the bartender laughs and says, "You always say that."

Adam's frown deepens. Always?

He walks over without thinking.

You see him out of the corner of your eye. "Oh, hey, Adam."

He's already reaching into his pocket.

"Do you want one?" you ask, gesturing to the bar. "I was just getting another-"

"I'll buy it," he says, placing a few Units on the counter. "What do you want?"

You blink. "You don't have to-"

You said if someone bought you a drink, you'll love them forever."

You choke on your own saliva.

"Wait, what?"

He looks down at the credits. "You said it. I heard you, that was the agreement."

"That wasn't an agreement, Adam. It was a joke."

He looks genuinely confused. "But... you said it out loud. In public. With conviction."

You try not to laugh because he's being so serious, and it's honestly kind of adorable.

"I was flirting," you admit softly. "Sort of. But it's just a thing people say when they want a free drink."

Adam tilts his head. "So you don't mean it?"

"Not literally, no."

He goes quiet for a second. "Would you... ever say it to me?"

You blink. "Would I try to get a free drink from you?"

He shrugs, suddenly shy. "Would you ever say that to me? Even if it is not true?"

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You glance at the glowing drink the bartender just set down in front of you. Then back up at Adam, golden and wide-eyed and way too genuine. You notice now that the guy you had been flirting with is long gone- moved on to someone else.

"Only if you let me buy you a drink back," you smile softly.

He immediately slides another handful of Units across the bar.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. "You already paid-"

Adam nods. "One for me as well," he says as he takes the seat beside you. You can't help but smile back.

3. "If I make out with you, will you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

w/c: 280

You're standing in line for boarding at a sketchy shuttle port on a backwater moon, dodging the attention of a very persistent ex who's just spotted you across the terminal.

"Crap. I told him I never wanted to see him again," you hiss under your breath as he waves from the other side of the checkpoint.

Adam looks between you and the guy. "Do you know him?"

"Ugh. Unfortunately." You glance around quickly, then turn to Adam. "Okay, I need a favor."

Adam perks up. "Of course."

"If I make out with you, will you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

He goes very still.

"You want to... create something with me?"

"What? No- make out. Like, kissing. A lot of it. Now."

He frowns. "I'm not quite sure I understand what's required of me, but- if it will help, yes."

You don't have time to explain. Your ex is coming closer. You grab Adam's face and press your mouth to his, and he makes the most surprised noise into your lips like you've just handed him a baby raccoon seeing his first spaceship.

But then-

He leans in, hands gently settling at your waist like he's afraid you might evaporate, and suddenly you're kissing Adam Warlock in a spaceport and he's very good at it for someone who doesn't even know what 'make out' means.

After a moment, he pulls back, blinking down at you. "So... this is pretending?"

"Yep," you say breathlessly, looking away to hide the flustered look on your face.

He pauses. "I don't think I liked that."

You stiffen. "Oh."

"I don't want it to be pretend," he clarifies, completely serious.

Oh.

And now you're the one who's afraid that you might evaporate.

3. "I was in love with you yesterday."

w/c: 320

You're brushing dust off your boots when Adam walks into the same room as you on the ship with his usual golden glow, fresh from some skirmish with the Guardians but not a scratch on him.

"Lookin' good, Warlock," you call, grinning.

He tilts his head. "I was wearing the same thing yesterday."

"Yeah, and I was in love with you yesterday, too. Consistency."

He stumbles over his next words. "You... were?"

You laugh, standing up and patting him on the shoulder. "Relax. I'm kidding. Kinda."

"Kinda?"

You shrug. "Look, I'd sell my soul to be like you."

Adam freezes. Like, full body stillness, eyes wide, soul leaving his own body kind of freeze.

"What?" he says, his voice in a whisper.

You pause, confused. "It's just a saying, Goldie."

"But why would you... give away something sacred? Something eternal? To be like me?"

You blink. "Because you're strong and nice and sweet and also ripped? I mean, come on."

He stares at you like you've just offered to hand him the sun.

"But your soul?" He says, completely shocked.

"Adam." You step closer. "It's not literal."

"Oh." He seems to process this for a moment, then. "Still. Don't say things like that. Not even as a joke."

You look at him softer. "Why not?"

"Because you don't have to give anything up. I'll always be with you. You don't have to trade your soul. I'd love you without you changing a thing. I already do."

Your heart skips like a scratched record. "You... do?"

He nods, eyes still wide and a little unsure. "I think so. And I don't want anything from you except you."

Your lips curve. "Well in that case, I'll keep my soul."

Adam smiles. "Good."

Then he adds, just a little shyly. "Though if you ever wanted to give me your heart, I would be honored."

You grin. "If that's allowed."

you never meant to end up in space.

sure, hydra trained you for a thousand things - most of them brutal, most of them bloody - but never once did they prepare you for watching the earth disappear through the hull of a ship while tony stark argued with a teenager about “pop culture references.” it still felt unreal, the way the ground had vanished beneath you, the way the atmosphere gave way to the void. you didn’t want to be here - and honestly, you weren’t supposed to. you only got into the ship because you followed peter on it, wanting to make sure he’s okay.

the kid had wormed his way into your chest like frost creeping across glass, slow and steady until suddenly it was everywhere. he reminded you too much of yourself - young, dragged into a war you didn’t ask for, trying to do the right thing even when it might kill you. so you stayed close. you watched him like a hawk, making sure that if he slipped, you’d be there to catch him. you didn’t trust space, didn’t trust the universe, and sure as hell didn’t trust tony stark to keep him safe.

the landing was chaos - metal tearing, strange’s shields flashing, peter chattering about chestbursters while tony yelled at him to shut up. you gripped your gun, cold leaking from your palms out of instinct, a sheen of frost crawling up the metal. you hated not knowing what was coming. and then -

a grenade rolled into view.

“get back!” you snapped, shoving peter behind you just as the blast rattled the floor. figures stormed the ship: a huge grey man yelling “thanos!” some bug girl, and a guy with glowing guns who moved too smooth to be an amateur.

the fight blurred. you froze the floor under the big guy, tangled with the cloak of levitation as it whipped around him. peter’s webs flew, strange’s sparks cracked, tony’s nanotech shifted like liquid metal. you caught flashes of the man with the guns - helmet snapping into place, jetting across the ship with too much attitude for someone you’d never seen before.

then it all froze.

the man had peter in a headlock, weapon jammed against his side.

“everybody stay where you are!” he barked. “chill the eff out.” he said, tapping the side of his face to reveal a quite… human looking face.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time. where’s gamora?”

your heart lurched.

tony raised his weapon too, stepping in with that steel-edged boldness. “oh yeah, I’ll do you one better - who’s gamora?”

“oh, for the love of god,” you muttered.

“oh yeah?” the guy on the floor bellowed. “I’ll do you one better! why is gamora?”

your gun was already up, barrel pressed cold against his temple. “you’re going to let him go,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “right now.”

he turned slightly to face you, sharp eyes staring into you and even sharper sarcasm cutting through the tension he brought with him. he smirked, though his cheek twitched against the icy barrel. “oh, really? and what are you gonna do, snowflake? freeze me?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you shot back, pressing harder. frost bloomed across the side of your gun where it met his head. he jolted slightly at the sting of cold.

but he ignored it, eyes locked on yours now. “tell me where the girl is, or I swear, I’ll french fry this kid.”

“let’s do it,” you snapped before tony could. “you shoot him, and I freeze your whole body solid and break you into pieces. see how long you last with your body parts not attached.”

he blinked, then let out a short laugh - half impressed, half irritated. “you’ve got issues, frosty.”

“and you’ve got a gun to the wrong kid’s head.” you didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. “put it down.”

“do it, quill! I can take it.” the guy on the ground roared in the background.

“no, he can’t take it!” the bug-girl squeaked.

strange cut in, calm but sharp: “she’s right. you can’t.”

quill ignored everyone, leaning just slightly into your gun. “I don’t know who you are, ice queen, but you’ve got guts.”

“oh, you will very soon,” you muttered back, “and I don’t need guts to pull this trigger.”

this only made him scoff. “you don't wanna tell me where she is? that’s fine. I'll kill all three of you and beat it out of thanos myself.” he said bitterly, pressing his gun closer to peter in his arms. “starting with you.”

“wait, what, thanos?” strange erupted. “all right, let me ask you this one time. what master do you serve?”

“what master do I serve? what am I supposed to say? jesus?”

this made tony look at him with wide eyes. “you’re from earth?”

“I'm not from earth. I'm from missouri.” he answered, his gun still pointing to peter but his mind clearly wasn’t focused on it, more busy trying to understand who you were.

“yeah, that's on earth, dip-shit.” you barked at him, pressing you gun even harder against him, the cold barrel on his temple.

peter then took off his mask, still out of breath as he spoke. “so, you're not with thanos?

“with thanos?” he said, scoffing. “noo, I'm here to kill thanos. wait, who are you?”

“your dea - “you began speaking, before being cut off by peter.

“were the avengers, man.”

understanding now spread through all of you, realizing who the others were and that you all had the same thing on your mind.

but you didn’t lower your gun until peter was free of his grip.

your glare didn’t waver. “touch him again,” you promised quill, “and I’ll make sure the last thing you ever feel is the cold.”

his smirk was infuriating. “noted, elsa.”

you hated him immediately.

——————

time blurred after that.

the guardians were loud, messy, reckless. quill especially. he needled at you constantly - “snowflake,” “ice cube,” “sub-zero” - like a kid pulling braids. he acted like he didn’t take you seriously, but you saw the way his hand twitched near his blaster whenever you got too close. he remembered the frost against his temple.

the battle came. thanos arrived. and everything went to hell.

you fought until your body screamed, until the cold in your veins nearly froze you from the inside out. peter parker was everywhere at once, swinging, quipping, fighting with a courage that made your chest ache. you kept half your attention on him even as you battled, blasting ice across titan’s ruins, trying to buy them all seconds they didn’t have.

and still - it wasn’t enough.

the snap echoed through you like shattering glass. one moment the battlefield was alive with shouting, with metal and magic and fury. the next - it was silent.

you turned, heart pounding, just in time to see quill stumble back.

his eyes met yours for a brief instant. gone was the smirk, gone was the cocky swagger. just shock. and then - ash. drifting into the wind. his blaster hit the ground with a dull clatter.

your breath caught.

you didn’t like him. hell, you hated him. but watching him dissolve into nothing still ripped something out of you.

then -

“I don’t feel so good.”

your blood ran colder than ever.

peter.

you whipped around. he was swaying, panic flooding his voice as he clung to tony.

“please… I don’t wanna go.”

you dropped to your knees beside him, hands hovering helplessly as frost crept across the ground.

“peter,” you whispered, voice breaking. “pete, it’s okay, honey. I’m here. it’s okay.”

he clutched at tony, then at you, desperate, terrified. and then -

he was gone.

just dust in your hands.

your gun slipped from your grip, clattering against the dirt. you pressed your frozen palms into the ground, forcing yourself not to shatter. hydra taught you not to cry, not to feel, but they hadn’t trained you for this.

tears froze on your lashes as the battlefield fell silent.

you hated quill. you hated thanos. you hated the universe for taking peter from you.

and when it was over, when the ashes settled, you swore to yourself that if you survived - if you made it out of this - you’d never let anyone take him from you again.

——————

the next five years were a blur.

you kept on with your role as frostbite, but ironically, you were much, much colder to the public than before.

if before the blip you wouldn’t be so against doing press and occasional interviews, now you completely ignored the media.

there’s a video online of a fan who saw you on the street, asking you ‘why aren’t you doing anything about the billions of people who vanished, huh? rogers has a support group, what do you have?’ and you almost freezes them to death.

because you couldn’t speak about it - if you did, you’d have to stop after a single sentence because tears and sobs would take over.

it hurt too much, having all of your friends vanish just like that. and peter, oh, peter… who turned into dust in your arms, in front of your eyes.

that image will haunt you forever.

but when the avengers suggested a plan to bring everyone back, and came with positive results of time travel, and even tony, who for the past five years was busy building a family, was down to do it, you couldn’t say no.

you had to bring them back.

bring them home.

all of them. all the kids and women and men. the children, the siblings, the parents of so many. you couldn’t pass the opportunity to do it.

so you went on with it.

you got all six stones.

you lost natasha, who was like a mother to you, who was the first one to welcome you to the team. who sacrificed herself to save billions.

this better be worth it.

——————

the endgame battle

you stood on the ruined grounds of what just this morning was the avengers building, with the beautiful green field surrounding it, but now was full of ruins and dust.

you - the avengers - were losing. to thanos. who was technically dead, but you know - time travel and shit.

but then - a circle of sparks appeared. and another one. and one more. and tens and maybe even hundreds more.

people from all over - from the other side of the country, from other continents, even from space, all those who were turned to dust five years ago were now standing there, ready to fight in battle to save your whole universe.

and god - oh, god - peter too. both, technically, but who cares about that half alien one? your peter, who you missed every day for the past five years, was now standing there.

“avengers!” steve’s voice echoed through the ruins.

“assemble.”

and that was it. all hundreds of people broke into battle, storming forward to clash with thanos’ alien army. but you? you ran straight to peter, wrapping your arms around the (still) teenager.

“oh my god, peter, you’re - you’re here. you’re alive, oh my god…” you breathed heavily, pulling away just to look at his face, which hasn’t changed in the slightest since you last saw him, only now blurred thanks to the tears in your eyes.

“y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I swear,” peter stammered, opening his mouth to speak again before being rudely cut off by the other peter.

“save the tears for later, will you? we got a universe to save here.” he groans, guns in both hands as he rolled his eyes, activating the mask to cover his face but not before muttering out a quiet “still the same as I last saw you, snowflake,” , just loud enough for you to hear.

but you pretended that you didn’t.

and that seeing him after all those years didn’t make your heart leap slightly.

because it didn’t, right? why would it? you hated him, remember?

“the bustard got a point,” you whispered, unwrapping your arms from the spider boy. “we got a fight to win.”

the battle was ruthless. aliens were all over the place, there was an endless chase of both sides to get the glove and the infinity stones to their hands.

and you? you were in the midst of it, with the huge gold glove in your arms, the six colourful stones on each knuckle.

which means that you were now being chased by weird grey creatures, which you weren’t even sure if they were aliens or robots of some sort. not that it mattered, not when one of them tripped you and pointed a gun to you.

“the glove or your life.” his monotone voice came out loud enough for you to hear over all the chaos.

“both.” another voice sounded out, before the alien in front of you dropped dead in front of you, revealing behind him the man who killed him.

peter. peter quill.

“you’re welcome, by the way.” he mumbled, taking the golden glove from your hold and passing it to someone else to carry, who immediately started running in the opposite direction to get it to the right hands, before offering you a hand to help you get up, which you bitter-sweetly took.

“you didn’t need to do that, I can save myself you know.” your said, making him snicker. “yeah, sure you can, frosty.”

and with that you parted.

but not for long.

because he was the next one to need saving.

he was fighting off one of thanos’ soldiers, laying knocked down on the ground as the latter raised a sword of some sort in the air, ready to stab him - before collapsing on top of peter, dead.

he pushed the guy off of him, standing up to see you staring back at him.

“you’re welcome, by the way.” you said bitterly, a grin threatening to pull at the corner of your lips as your words bit him, walking past him to continue to fight off thanos’ army.

but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he kept staring at you as you went to fight with others, until you vanished from his sight.

“goddamn, snowflake,” he muttered under his breath, putting his silver mask back on his face. “that was truly a frostbite.”

——————

the rest of the battle was full of ups and downs, with the glove being passed through multiple people to finally get it to the safest place.

you once again find yourself standing next to quill, staring in horror as thanos snaps his fingers - only for nothing to happen. everyone’s attention turns to tony, who now has the infinity stones on him as he stands weakly on his knees.

“and I… am… iron man.”

snap.

and… screams of agony fill the air as thanos’ army turns into dust one by one, some just about to put a spear through someone’s head as they vanish into thin air.

silence took over before tony collapsed down. pepper and peter immediately rushed to him, whispering words only they could hear. but it couldn’t be anything good, not when you saw peter’s head bowing down and his shoulders shaking, making you quickly walk over to the young boy, kneeling down beside him.

“‘s okay, pete,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around the teenager as tears rolled down both your cheeks. “it was necessary. he did it for you, he did it for all of us.” you tried to comfort him, but you knew you couldn’t really do anything.

so you did all you could - wrapping your arms tighter around him and pushing his head into your shoulders to make him stop looking at tony.

you gave pepper an apologetic look, both of your eyes red from fighting and now crying.

peter’s eyes on the other hand were fixated on you.

no, not parker’s - his eyes were tightly shut against your suit.

quill. he was still staring at you, admiring you and how you did you best in comforting the teenager.

no - not admiring. how could he admire someone who he hated? on the other hand, he did save your life, and he did save yours…

still, doesn’t matter. how could he even remotely begin to not hate you?

——————

the next day, tony’s funeral

you were standing next to peter.

both of them, technically.

the teenager to you left, the half alien-god behind you with the rest of the guardians.

the vibes were off, obviously - it’s a funeral. everyone was dressed in black, tearing up as pepper carried the flowers to set them off into the water.

but it was worth it, wasn’t it? if not for natasha and tony’s sacrifices, half of the people on the planet wouldn’t be here right now.

but still, you have to honour those who were lost in battle to save the entire universe.

after the funeral itself, pepper and rhodes had organised a dinner for everyone in the backyard.

the food was amazing, the banter around the table was comforting. and you were sitting next to peter. both of them. parker to your left, quill to your right.

you ate in silence, occasionally blurting out a comment on how how good the food tasted or making small talk with peter.

peter. peter parker, obviously. how could you ever make small talk with the quill one? and why would you? you hated him, even if he saved your life. and you saved his… but could you really hate him if you saved him?

——————

after the dinner, just before the desserts came out, you decided to go sit on the edge of the lake, to breathe some air and think about everything that happened in the last few hours and five years.

it was a lot to take in - going to space, meeting quill and the guardians, losing peter in your arms, going five years griefing his loss, everyone who blipped coming back, reuniting with peter, meeting quill again, almost getting killed by an alien before quill saved you, saving quill from being killed by a different alien, winning the battle, comforting peter about tony while having quill staring at you, standing in front of quill during the funeral, sitting next to quill during dinner…

quill. quill. quill.

why could you get him out of your head?

maybe because he was standing right behind during that moment.

“hey there, frosty,” the familiar voice spoke from behind you, making you instinctively groan at the sound of him.

“you haunting me?” you asked, turning your head to the side as the half alien-god peter sat down on the grass next to you.

he chuckled, putting his arms on his knees as he stared out at the lake. “you really hate me this much?” his voice was soft, but his words cut through you sharper than any knife ever could.

“I don’t think that… I hate you,” you said after a moment of silence, your legs stretched out as you leaned back on your hands, your head still turned towards him. “I’m just not used to you. plus you put a gun up to pete’s head, you were gonna get on my bad side no matter what you did with that move.”

the last comment made him chuckle, the sound deep and rough and sweet as if it’s dipped in honey - no it doesn’t. it’s annoying and screeching in your ears and making you want to freeze him to death - no, it doesn’t.

it weirdly… makes you want to freeze this moment and live in it forever.

he turned his head towards you, making you snap out of your thoughts and turn your head to stare at the lake like he just did.

“y’know, I don’t either,” he said, making your heartbeat freeze for a moment. “I don’t actually hate you, you just… kinda scare me, I gotta admit it. but it fascinates me how motherly you are to that kid, considering how cold you are to everyone else.”

the silence stretched out for a few long moments after his words, which honestly felt like forever.

but in reality, it didn’t last long when he spoke again.

“you got a name on yah, frosty? or do I keep calling you elsa?” he questioned, making a chuckle leave your throat. a chuckle of annoyance, of course. you’d never chuckle at his jokes, why would you? they’re not funny, aren’t they?

“y/n. but, you know, evil cold frostbite to the public.” you answered, turning your head to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since the battle.

“peter. quill, if you insist since you got that kid. but the galaxy knows me as star lord.” quill responded, reaching a hand out to you for a handshake. or not, why would he ever want to shake your hand? your soft hands who looked like they would fit in his perfectly… which they did, they fit like a perfect piece of puzzle when you shook his hand, your cold skin against his much warmer one felt like heaven to him.

“alright, quill,” you said after a moment, pulling your hand away from his after a way-too-long of a handshake. “what’s your story? heard you’re half human and half god?”

he chuckled for the second time, the deep and rough and sweet like honey sound once again ringing in your ears. “heart that right, frosty. my mom is human, she fell in love with this really awful guy who really lived up to his name - ego. he’s not really a god, he’s a… living planet, I don’t know how to explain that. anyway, they have sex, he leaves, my mom gets pregnant, I’m born, she dies, aliens kidnap me. boom.”

you hummed as you listened to his words, the silence once again stretching round the two of you before you spoke up. “I was kidnapped by this organisation called ‘hydra’ when I was five. straight out of my birthday party, I didn’t even get to open my gifts. they spent years doing experiments, with different serums and different treatments. they wanted a super soldier like captain america but younger and a girl. one of the treatments goes wrong, and boom - I got ice powers. they then train me for months, and sent me on my first assassination mission when I was 11. I didn’t know it at the time because I was brainwashed, but my first two victims were my parents. I spent years killing for them, but one day I was sent to kill bucky because his brain got un-washed, but the avengers captured me decided to un-wash my brain as well. been with them ever since.” you whispered, as if telling the words quieter will make them hurt less.

spoiler? they didn’t. tears stung your eyes as you stared out at the lake in front of you, not even realizing you were tearing up.

but peter did. because he was staring at your face the entire time.

he reached a hand out to your face, brushing away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek with his thumb. “I… I don’t have any words. I’m so sorry this happened to you - “

“no, don’t be, it’s okay,” you cut him off, sharply turning towards him when you felt his hand on your face. but he stayed there, hand on your cheek. thank goodness it was dark outside, or he would’ve seen you blushing. and oh, were you blushing. “it’s behind me now, I’m so happy where I am today.”

he gave you a soft smile at those words, his warm hand still on your cheek, his much warmer skin feeling almost unnatural against your cold face, thumb rubbing just under your eye.

once again silence filled the space between you, comfortable enough to finally soak each other after ‘hating’ each other for what felt like forever. five years for you, just over a day on his end.

peter slowly leaned closer to you, shifting to sit so close beside you, on the grass covered in flakes of ice, turned freezing cold from your nervousness.

“I think they got dessert already…” you whispered, breath mingling with his from how close his face was to yours, your eyes jumping from staring into his eyes to gazing at his lips. his eyes were following your exact pattern, hopping from your eyes to your own slightly patted lips.

“don’t care,” he breathes, leaning even closer to you, closer than ever - so close your noses touched. “why would I want a chocolate cake or some stupid muffins when I can get a frozen sweet all for myself?” he barely even finished his sentence, cutting himself off with a deep kiss on your lips he’s been staring at for a long time now.

you didn’t resist, didn’t pull away like you probably would’ve just an hour ago. instead, you leaned into it, embracing the kiss as you out your hand up on the side of his neck, the skin sticking up in goosebumps. wether they were from your presence alone or the coldness of your palm, one thing was certain - you were the reason for them.

“nervous?” you mumbled against his lips, pulling away slightly, just enough to open your eyes as stare into his.

“nah,” peter murmured, adjusting his hand on your cheek to hold your jaw now. “just cold, frosty.”

his lips returned to yours quickly after that, wasting no time to press against yours again. the kiss was messy, with your noses bumping, teeth scraping, and the uncomfortable warm feeling growing between both of your legs.

“I got a spaceship we can go to, you know…” he murmured into your mouth, his free hand reaching for yours to squeeze it.

you pulled away from the kiss completely, staring at him with such a glare he almost thought this was all nothing, just a trick to play with him. key word almost.

that feeling was quickly crashed when you smiled the softest smile he ever saw, and said “then take me there, star lord. don’t make me wait.”

and that’s all it took for him stand up and pull you with him, hand on your arm as he dragged you towards where his spaceship was parked not too far from the house, his grip tight and impatient yet soft and gentle at the same time.

once you reached the spacecraft and the door closed behind you peter’s mouth was back on yours, teeth clashing and tongues tangling as he pressed you against the nearest metal wall.

his hands were on your waist, bunching up the fabric of your shirt to feel you skin directly. your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“you got a thing for women who scare you, huh?” you muttered into his mouth, fingers pulling at his hair just enough to make his scalp sting and a hiss to escape his throat.

“yeah, guess so…” he grumbled against your lips, his hips now grinding against yours. “fuck, need ya so bad…”

his fingers slipped down from your waist to toy with the fabric of your pants, mouth moving south to nip at your jaw and neck.

it didn’t take long for peter to pull you out of your pants, discarding them on the floor along with your shoes, leaving you in your shirt and underwear in front of him.

“fuck,” he muttered, falling down to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly they will surely leave marks afterwards. “so pretty, frosty…”

he stopped staring at your panties to look up at you, his eyes big as he slowly inches closer and closer to where you needed him the most, before his mouth finally made contact with your skin.

his light beard scratched your skin as he gently kissed your thigh, his nose pressed against your clothed clit making you choke out a whimper.

“pete, don’t tease,” you gasped, your fingers tugging on his messy brown hair as you raised your leg to rest ut over his shoulder, heel digging into his back to pull him ever closer to you.

he just hummed and chuckled against your leg, the sound vibrating through your body and sending a shiver down your spine, causing you to arch your back and grind your hips closer to his face.

peter just smiled, turning his head just slightly, enough so his mouth was in front of your core and not your thigh. he let out a breath against your underwear, testing the water, and pressing his lips to your cotton covered core in a lingering kiss once you responded with a choked moan.

“fuck pete, need you…” your voice echoed against the metal walls of the spaceship. “oh yeah?” he muttered against your damp underwear. “you need me now, frosty? need me where, huh?”

this earned him a kick to his back and a rough tug to his hair from you, making a cry leave his throat. “said, don’t tease.” you hissed, opening your eyes to look down at him, you gaze cold and stern. but the eye contact didn’t last very long, not when peter pulled your panties aside with his thumb and attached his mouth to your core, causing you throw you head back and cry out in pleasure.

your moans and whimpers, mixed with the wet sound of peter’s tongue inside your cunt and the occasional groans he’d let out against you, all vibrated against the walls of the spacecraft. and honestly, you’d pray for the walls to be soundproof if you weren’t so lost in your own pleasure, but if we’re being real? you’re enjoying this too damn much to even care if someone hears you, anyway.

you came with a moan from deep inside your soul, toes curling and fingers tugging at peter’s hair as the orgasm crashed through you violently.

“damn, frosty…” peter whispered, his breath hitting your sensitive core as he pulled away slightly. his chin was glistening with your juices, covering his lips and dripping down from his chin in slow drops. “didn’t expect that from a cold ice queen like you.” his voice was low and deep, his eyes big as he looked up at you with blown pupils.

you let out a breathy laugh at his teasing, unhooking your leg from his shoulder and tugged on his hair to pull him up to stand.

still breathless and with your legs wobbling, you walked him over to the nearby work counter scattered with different maps and whatnot, pushing him until his hips met the surface before sinking down to wobbly knees in front of him.

“w-what are you - “ peter uttered, his hands flying to the cold counter to hold himself from falling.

“returning the favour.” you cut him off, you voice completely innocent in comparison to the fact that you were currently eagerly pulling his pants and underwear down, freeing his already hard member out of its confinements.

all peter could do was lean back against the counter and throw his head back with a breathy moan when he felt your mouth on his, tongue swirling around his tip and your cold hand wrapped around the base sending shivers down his back.

“fucking hell, icy,” he gasped, one of his hand moving from the counter to the back of your head. not pushing, not tugging on your strands, just resting on your hair, letting you control the pace.

your free hand laid on his lower stomach, right under his belly button, using your powers to stimulate him even more by sending gentle waves of the cold to his abdomen, making snowflakes appear on the dark hair of his happy trail.

your pace was slow for the next couple minutes, occasionally pushing your head down on him to take him deeper or tugging on him with your hand, only completely pulling away when peter tugged on your hair to pull you off of him, making you look up at him with a furrow between your brows, saliva dribbling down your chin as you looked at him with questioning eyes.

“something wrong?” you asked, hand leaving the base of his cock to wipe away the spit from your chin and three corners of your mouth.

he just let out a breathy laugh, hand hooking under your arm to pull you up, spinning the both of you around so that now you were the one pressed against the counter. “nah, frosty.”

his lips found yours again, making you taste yourself on his tongue and him taste himself on yours as the muscles swirled with each other. he was quick to raise you onto the counter, sitting you on top of it as he reached for one of the many drawers on the side of it to pull out a condom.

“damn, didn’t you had that kind of stuff in space.” you said when you saw the small square packet in his hand, pulling your shirt over you head and tossing it to the side as peter rolled the clear latex over his still hard member.

you rolled your eyes when you saw him staring at your breasts, chuckling softly as you reached behind your back to unclip your bra, tossing it aside with the rest of your clothes to reveal your bare tits.

“come on, shy boy. don’t make me wait.” you said in a teasing tone, snapping him out of his thoughts. “sorry…” he muttered under his breath, holding his cock in one hand and your hip in the other as he lined himself up with your hole, not wasting any time before pushing into you and filling you up fully.

heavy moans left the both of you once he entered you, peter’s head dropping forward to rest on your shoulder, your own thrown back as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. “fuck, pete… feels so good.” you gasped, nails clawing at his back as he started to move slowly, his eyes fixated on the way his dick was disappearing into you, a white ring forming around the base from your slick.

“shit, you feel good, frosty,” he muttered, hands tight on your waist as his hips moved in a rhythm. “didn’t think you’d be so warm.” he breathily chuckled at his own joke, his laugh being cut off by a sharp inhale when you pinched his ribs in response to his joke.

suddenly he dipped his head lower, his lips meeting the soft skin of your boob before latching onto your nipple, sucking the nub into his mouth making you violently cry out in pleasure. “jesus christ, pete!”

moans and whimpers leave your lips with each thrust of his hips, making you feel impossibly full every time his hips met yours and empty beyond belief each time his hips moved back from yours before filling you fully again, in an endless cycle of pleasure.

and for a… virgin looking guy, his steady movements and perfect angling, making the thick head of his cock hit the deepest possible parts of you, all made no sense, but you didn’t really care about that, not when you felt a tight knot in the pit of your stomach, his mouth busy with your nipple between his lips, tongue swirling around the sensitive nub.

“pete, I’m gonna - “ you whispered, being quite rudely cut of by your own moan when one of his hands dropped from your waist to circle his thumb on your clit.

“yeah, I know, frosty. can feel you tightening ‘round me already,” peter muttered as he pulled away from your boob, his breath starting to get uneven and thrusts messier as he reached his own brink. “come for me.”

and that was all you needed to hear before your orgasm washed over you, your juices coating the condom around peter completely as your legs squeezed together, wrapping tighter around his waist.

peter wasn’t so far behind you, letting out a guttural moan as he came into the condom, the tip of it bulging with his cum.

the two of you just stayed like this for a few long moments that felt like days, your chests heaving as you slowly regulated your breathing.

“you alright?” he said after a while, raising his head to rest it against your forehead, his eyes searching for yours.

“yeah, I guess you could say so…” you muttered, still out of breath as you answered him. he chuckled at your fucked out expression, and if your brain wasn’t a mush and your whole body wasn’t feeling like jelly currently you probably would’ve slapped him for that, but you physically couldn’t.

“you want some water?” peter asked softly, staring into your eyes as you hummed in response. “alright, I’ll be right back.” he mumbled back, slowly pulling his now soft cock out of you, making you hiss at the emptiness. he threw away the used condom and pulled up his underwear before heading out of the room, leaving you naked on the countertop to catch your breath.

he came back after a couple of minutes with a bottle of water and a wet cloth in his hands, setting the bottle next to you on the counter.

“here you go, frosty,” he whispered, pressing the bottle into your hand before spreading your shaking legs and standing between them. “now, I know you’re still sensitive, but I gotta do it, alright?” he warned before pressing the cloth to your thighs, making you arch your back at the sensation.

he just shushed you softly, continuing to gently wipe your thighs clean with the towel, setting it aside once he was satisfied.

you leaned forward against him, chin on the top of his head as his forehead rested on top of your sternum.

“you know,” you began speaking, your voice hoarse from all the moans and noises you have let out in the last half hour. “if someone would’ve told me five years ago that I’d be here today, with you, let alone even touch or sleep with you… I would’ve laughed in their face.”

peter laughed at your comment, pulling away from you to look ay you fully. “yeah, me too, frosty. but I don’t think I would’ve been too against it, to be honest.” he confessed, a soft smile on his lips as he stared into your eyes, his hand finding yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

you returned the smile, sweet and warm in a sharp contrast to your skin and persona.

“kinda craving something sweet right now, not gonna lie,” you mumbled after a moment of silence, putting your hand on your stomach to exaggerate your desire for a sweet. “I think that if we’re quick enough we can make it back in time before all the desserts are gone.”

peter’s smile widened at your words, his hands immediately grabbing at your hips to lift you off the counter. “best idea you’ve ever had, frosty.” he said as he started to get dressed, pulling his pants back up as you put on your shirt and bra on.

just minutes later the two of you were out of the guardians’ spaceship, acting as if nothing had happened as you made your way back to the table.

“hey, y/n!” peter (parker) called out to you from his seat, raising his hand to get you attention with a half-eaten muffin between his fingers. “where were you?”

“uhh…” you hesitated, momentarily glancing at quill who just gave you a smirk as he stole a cookie off of drax’s plate. “just down by the lake, breathed some air.” you reassured the teenager, sitting down in your seat next to him.

“alright, anything you’d recommend me to try?” you clapped your hand together, smiling at the kid as he eagerly started to tell you all about the desserts on the table, ranking them from worst to best.

——————

after an hour everyone started to say their goodbyes, you walked peter and aunt may to their car and once again said your apologies to pepper and thanked her for the dinner before making your way to your own vehicle.

“think you could go without saying goodbye to me, frosty?” the familiar voice sounded behind you, making you smile and turn around to face him.

“hey there, stranger.” you said with a grin, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched quill walk over closer to you, standing just inches away from you.

“is this our final cheerio, icy?” he whispered, his voice dripping with sadness but his eyes glistening with hope.

“don’t think so, quill,” you stepped forward, “just a ‘see-you-later’.” you muttered, as if keeping your voice low would keep this real, just between the two of you. “if you promise to visit?”

his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together as he spoke. “promise, snowflake,” he pressed his forehead together yours, closing his eyes to cherish this moment. “I swear I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

his lips met yours in a soft kiss, his free hand cradling the side of your face, neither of you dared to pull away, not until you absolutely had to when mantis called peter from their ship.

“alright then,” he sighed, raising your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles. “see you later then, frosty?”

“see you later, dip-shit from missouri.” you confirmed, hand dropping from his when he stalled away and walked towards the spaceship, watching him until the moment the doors closed.

you let out a shaky breath as you leaned your head back to stare up at the sky, the dark scattered with stars.

the silence was loud when you didn’t share it with anyone. how could you know if peter will come back to you? you aren’t even looking at the same moon at night, aren’t shining under the same sun. he’s so far away from you. but it was fine all those years.

was he really that bad? nah. you just got off on the wrong foot when he had a gun to the wrong kid’s head.

maybe you will see him later, maybe you won’t - you couldn’t know.

but he promised you he will.

and the best part?

you trusted him to keep it.

ততততত

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

“I know we’ve gained a lot, but days like today just remind me of everything and everyone we’ve lost. There are those holes that I feel like nothing can ever fully fill and I hate it, Pete.”

If only Y/n had known then just how much she would lose later…

_____________________________________________________________

Y/n lay on one of the beds in the Avengers compound. She heard a scratching sound outside her room before her door opened. The girl didn’t bother turning around to greet her visitor. She never did anymore.

The bedding underneath her pulled a bit before the mattress dipped next to her. 

Rocket crossed his arms and looked down at the pathetic teenager below him. He loved the kid - don’t get him wrong, but he wasn’t great with the whole…feelings thing. And he was more the type to work through his pain than sit in it.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “‘Bout to head out again. You coming with?” He knew what the answer was going to be, but he was feeling nice enough to offer anyway.

Y/n silently shook her head, still not bothering to face her friend.

Rocket sighed and dropped his arms. He shook his head and turned to jump off her bed again, but he turned to look at Y/n again over his shoulder. “You know I’m not good with this crap…but you really should get out of this room, kid. I don’t know a lot about those guys out there but I can tell they already care about you…maybe try talking to someone…I’ll see you when I get back.” And with that, Rocket jumped off the teen’s bed and left her room, purposefully leaving the door open, hoping one of the others - the Avengers, would see Y/n moping and try to get through to her.

Y/n waited until Rocket’s paws were no longer heard and got up off the bed just long enough to shut her door then flopped onto her side again.

She picked at a loose string on her bed and thought back to things before the “blip.” She thought back to how her brother would usually comfort her in times like these. 

Y/n sobbed as Peter held her in a tight but comforting hug. He shushed her quietly and gave her a squeeze before gently directing her until she was laying on her side, her head resting in his lap. 

Peter put one hand on her shoulder, running his thumb back and forth over it and used the other to weave through her hair. He carded his fingers through the strands and pushed stray ones behind her ear. As Y/n’s sniffles and quiet sobs continued to fill the room, Peter started humming. His sister’s ears perked at the sound of a certain song from The Five Stairsteps. She couldn’t help the way the corner of her lips turned up ever so slightly despite her depressed state. 

The teen closed her eyes and sighed, relishing in the feeling of her brother playing with her hair, and the sweet sound of his voice filling the room. Her sobs ended and only the occasional sniffle remained. 

“Try and sleep, princess,” Peter whispered during a pause in the song, still running his fingers through her hair and rubbing her shoulder. “I’ll always be here.”

When he started to sing softly again, Y/n found her eyes sliding closed, her brother’s actions and love for her soothing her to sleep.

Y/n broke out of the flashback, tears painting silver trails down her cheeks, and clicked a button on the tech in her left hand. Soft blue light illuminated her face as a hologram played. She closed her eyes but listened as her brother’s voice sang.

“Ooh, child 

Things are gonna get easier

Ooh child

Things'll get brighter

Some day, yeah

We'll put it together and we'll get it undone

Some day

When your head is much lighter

Some day, yeah

We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun

Some day

Peter Quill, the legendary Star-Lord, is a romantic at heart whose gestures often blend 80's Earth nostalgia with genuine, sometimes clumsy, vulnerability.

Custom Mixtapes: Peter's primary love language is music. He would spend hours meticulously curating a "Zune" or "Awesome Mix" just for you, choosing songs that express the feelings he's too "cool" or nervous to say out loud.

The "Unspoken Thing" Dance: Peter often uses dancing as a way to connect. He’ll pull you into a slow dance in the Milano's galley to a 70's power ballad, even if there’s a mission briefing happening in ten minutes.

Earth Pop Culture Comparisons: Peter would constantly compare you to the heroes of his childhood. Being told you’re "cooler than Kevin Bacon" is the highest praise he can give.

Protective Affection: Peter likes to feel needed. His go-to sleeping position is snuggling you into his side so he can keep you safe, often tracing shapes on your arm or running his fingers through your hair to help you (and himself) relax.

Sharing His Scars: A deeply romantic gesture for Peter is sharing his past. Whether it's telling you stories about his mom, Meredith, or showing you his most prized Earth trinkets, letting you into his "pre-Ravager" life is a sign of ultimate trust.

Space Sightseeing: Peter will take you to the most beautiful, obscure corners of the galaxy—places with nebula clouds that "match your eyes"—just to see your reaction.

Cheesy "Legendary" Flirting: Expect plenty of winks, finger guns, and overly dramatic "Star-Lord" poses. While Peter loves to act like a suave outlaw, he melts the moment you actually reciprocate the affection.