(If you talk about how bad the header is I will find you and steal all your food)
Ib: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTrcV49Ld/
Paring: Kara Danvers x Peter j. Quill omfg the ship name is superstar
(Dcu!kara, gotg! Peter). Mcuxdcu
Warning : rocket is here, mockery of Clark, not proofread I hurt my dominant hand so blame any mistakes on that Also I hate starlord so if he’s mischarcterized…not my fault he’s a bitch(My friend picked the title which is why is corny 🥹☝️)
Angst? Banter, comedy, met in a bar troupe trauma dumping,
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The red sun did what yellow ones never could.
It quieted her mind. Muted the guilt. Softened the ever-present roar in her skull. Kara hovered outside the bar, letting the crimson light wash over her, before dropping down with a soft crunch of dust.
“Great,” she muttered, sliding onto a stool. “Healthy coping.”
She ordered something strong. Something that could probably melt a star. A small, victorious smile tugged at her lip.
“Careful,” a voice said beside her. “You drink like that, and you’re either celebrating, mourning your life choices, or plotting to overthrow a government.”
Leather jacket. Blasters. Helmet under one arm. Eyes immediately on her chest.
He squinted at the emblem. “Big ‘S,’ huh? Super… something?”
“Supernova?” he tried. “Super Space Lady?”
“…Super… Sue?” He offered, like it was the pinnacle of wit.
“Nope,” she said, smirking. “Too generic. And she isn’t even my name it’s Kara.”
“Super… woman?” he tried again, deadpan.
“Also nope. That’s taken.”
“Close enough to embarrassing,” she said.
“Yes! Nailed it,” he said, snapping his fingers like he just invented sliced bread.
“You guessed,” she said quickly.
“And now I mock,” he continued. “‘Supergirl’… sounds like you’re the assistant manager at a cereal factory. With a cape. And unresolved trauma.”
“I didn’t name myself,” she said, a tight smile locked in place.
“Oof. No branding agency either?” He leaned back, grinning. “I could help. Fee: your dignity. Optional… mostly.”
She glanced at him, taking in the jacket, the guns, the helmet… then her eyes fell to the crooked little name tag on his lapel: Hello, my name is: PETER J. QUILL / STAR-LORD.
She blinked. “…Peter? Really? Peter?”
He shrugged. “Yes. Peter.”
Kara tilted her head. “Peter. Cute. Totally intimidating. And Star-Lord? Who came up with that, a toddler with a space action figure?”
“Hey,” he said, deadpan. “It’s iconic. Trademark pending. Could be huge.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “You’re a disaster.”
“And you’re a nightmare in a trench coat,” he countered.
She took a slow sip of her drink, letting the rim catch the light. “Well… that’s what happens when your home planet blows up, and your cousin ends up on a different planet without you… at thirteen.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “…Wait. Thirteen?”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah. I was sent ahead, supposed to be there with him. But when I arrived… he was already a fully functional adult. Doing great. Doesn’t need me. Never did. Guess he’s better off without me.”
Peter’s expression softened. “Hey… that can’t be true.”
A beat.
“You survived. You did your best. None of this is your fault.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Say… what planet is he on?” Peter asked.
“EARTH?! THE PLANET WHERE PEOPLE STILL WEAR SOCKS WITH SANDALS?! THAT PLACE SUCKS!”
“Exactly,” she said, laughing. “They can’t even fly. It’s a nightmare.”
“And a whole country there is run by a sentient orange!”
“Someone stop him immediately,” she said, eyes wide.
After a moment, Peter asked, “What planet were you guys originally from?”
“Krypton. Blew up. Usual Tuesday-apocalypse. Small inconvenience.” She glanced at him. “You?”
“What?” He sipped his drink.
“That’s on Earth, you son of a bitch” She muttered, turning back to her glass, shaking her head.
Before she could sip, Rocket catapulted onto the bar like a caffeinated cannonball, one paw already swiping through Kara’s phone like it was a nuclear launch code.
“EMERGENCY! Weird alien with emotional baggage detected! Mission: Infiltrate, interrogate, caffeinate!”
Kara groaned. “Hey! Why did a talking raccoon steal my phone?”
Peter shrugged. “Too late.”
“Ooooh, jackpot!” Rocket squeaked, scrolling like a squirrel hopped up on espresso. “A new message from some guy named Clark. Let’s see… ‘Look at what Krypto did.’”
A news clip popped up: ‘Krypto Protects Metropolis, Lex Luthor Outmatched.’ Krypto, tail wagging, tossed Lex around like a chew toy.
“…THAT,” Rocket whispered, eyes practically spinning, “…is the single greatest animal I have ever seen. I must hug, pet, and probably adopt this dog as my general. And maybe my therapist.”
“It’s my dog. My cousin is watching him for me,” Kara said, reaching for her phone.
Rocket ignored her entirely. “A powered dog! Universe officially leveled up! Someone get me a cape, a medal, and a parade!”
Peter leaned over, dry as ever. “It’s a news clip. Not a personal invitation.”
“DETAILS! I NEED STATS! BARK VOLUME! LASER CAPACITY! CAN HE DO TAXES?” Rocket demanded, practically vibrating.
Kara smirked. “Yes. He can shoot lasers.”
Rocket’s eyes exploded. “I LOVE THIS DOG. UNIVERSE IMPROVED BY ONE TAIL WAG. TAKE NOTE, COSMIC COUNCIL!”
Peter nudged her gently. “Your cousin isn’t better off without you. That video? Clearly means he misses you.”
She shrugged, looking away.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Peter said softly. “Joking about it won’t make the pain disappear, but… you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Kara laughed lightly, cracked but real. “I joke because if I don’t… I remember floating alone at thirteen, watching everything die.”
Rocket finally handed her phone back, muttering, “I swear on every hair on my body… that dog DEFINITELY wants to meet me. Maybe as my general, sidekick, or chew toy supplier.”
“Sure. One day,” Kara said, raising her glass.
Peter clinked his. “Supervised.”
Rocket lifted a stolen mug like a tiny, furry conquistador. “TO MY NEW SIDEKICK!”
“To Krypto,” Kara corrected, smiling for the first time in a while.
“…the legend,” Rocket breathed.
Peter shook his head. “You’re terrible at reading the room.”
“I rely on charm,” Rocket said, smug as ever.
Kara smirked. This one stuck a little longer than the others.
Then Rocket’s eyes caught another file on the phone. “Ooooh! What’s this? IS THAT CLARK?! IN A CAPE?! HE LOOKS LIKE A FLYING BLUE BLOB WITH RED UNDERPANTS!”
Kara squinted. “Yeah… that’s him.”
Rocket let out a squeaky, high-pitched laugh. “OH UNIVERSE, IT’S COMEDY GOLD! LOOK AT THAT CURL! THOSE BOOTS! THE CAPE FLAP! HE’S TRYING TO SAVE CATS AND INSULT VILLAINS AT THE SAME TIME!”
Kara rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re really going to mock my cousin? In My presence? Some nerve,”
“Oh, we’re not stopping at ‘mock,’” Rocket said, holding the phone like it was Excalibur. “This is a full-on, cinematic roast. Skin-tight suit, underpants, I KNOW he has stupid one-liners… I might cry from the perfection of absurdity.”
Peter snorted. “I mean… he does look like a comic book exploded on him.”
Kara leaned in. “And every fight? Some pun about flying or heat vision. He says stuff like”what the hay dude?,“ he’s so stupid.”
Rocket bounced, eyes wide. “Flying into a burning building? Dramatic monologue! Save the cat, save the world, quip about evil mastermind! I am honored!”
Peter joined in. “Hands on hips, chest puffed, cape flapping. Could fit a reality show in that stance.”
Kara covered her mouth, laughing. “Okay, okay, fine… he does look ridiculous.”
Rocket held the phone high. “Clark Kent, alien, hero… certified goofball. Universe improved. I am officially obsessed.”
Peter chuckled. “Genuinely funny.”
Kara shook her head, smiling. “You’re impossible, raccoon.”
Rocket saluted the photo. “Impossible? I am legend. Chaos legend.”
Peter snorted. “Still terrible at pep talks.”
“Still rely on charm,” Rocket pocketing Kara’s phone.
Not silent—just… softer. Like the universe leaned back to listen.
Kara was halfway through another sip when she noticed Peter wasn’t joking anymore. No smirk. No sarcasm loading behind his eyes.
“Y’know,” he said, staring into his glass, “I give you crap for joking about trauma, but… I kinda do the same thing.”
She glanced at him. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He exhaled through his nose. “There was someone. Gamora.”
Rocket, mid-snack theft, froze. Just for a second.
“She was…” Peter struggled, then waved a hand vaguely. “The best fighter I knew. Also the worst at expressing emotions. Like—if feelings were grenades, she’d just stare at them until they exploded.”
Kara smiled faintly. “Sounds… familiar.”
Peter huffed. “We spent years almost figuring it out. Almost being happy. Saving the galaxy, arguing over music, pretending tomorrow was guaranteed.”
“I watched her die,” he said quietly. “And then—because the universe has a sick sense of humor—I met another version of her. Same face. Same voice. None of the memories. None of us.”
Rocket slowly set the mug down. Didn’t say a word.
Peter laughed, but it was hollow. “Everyone kept saying, ‘She’s back!’ And I’m just thinking—no. She’s not. She’s someone else wearing the shape of the woman I loved.”
Kara felt her chest tighten. “That’s… brutal.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And I can’t be mad at her. That wouldn’t be fair. But I can’t stop missing the one who knew me. The one who chose me.”
“I joke because if I don’t,” Peter added, echoing her earlier words, “I remember holding her hand and knowing there was nothing I could do.”
Kara set her glass down. “I’m sorry, Peter.”
He shrugged, eyes glassy but steady. “It doesn’t go away. You just… make room for it. Carry it with you while you keep moving.”
Rocket cleared his throat loudly. “FOR THE RECORD,” he said, crossing his arms, “she would absolutely punch you for getting this sentimental in public.”
Peter smiled sadly. “Yeah. Probably.”
“She’d also want you to keep living,” Rocket added, quieter. “Even if it hurts.”
Kara nodded. “The people we lose don’t vanish completely.…They… leave echoes.”
Peter glanced at her. “You’re pretty good at this whole ‘sad wisdom’ thing for someone who just roasted my name an hour ago.”
She smirked. “I contain multitudes.”
They clinked glasses again.
“To the ones we lost,” Peter said.
“To the ones we carry,” Kara replied.
Rocket raised his mug. “And to powered dogs.”
The pain didn’t disappear.
I will DEFINITELY be writing a part two because it’s peak if I do say so myself
(Idc if it’s corny to be corny is to be freeeeeee)
