peter quill x f!reader
prompt: warmth
theme: fluff
(tags beneath the cut)
There were so many things about being on a spaceship that you hadn’t expected, but the one that you found yourself lingering on was the silence. Not while everyone was awake – no, then the ship was filled with the noise of the crew and the music that never ended. But once they were asleep? You thought you’d hear the engines murmur under the metal floors, but no. Just silence.
“What’re you doing up?”
You started at the sound of Quill’s tired voice behind you, and you turned away from the windows to see him standing in the doorway, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. He’d been on the over-night shift, monitoring the ship’s trajectory through space. Days of stubble marred his jawline, his shirt wrinkled.
“Hey,” you replied. “Who’s steering this thing?”
He smiled, jerking his head back the way he’d come. “Rocket just took over. But you do know the ship has auto-pilot, right?”
You smiled softly, tugging your coat further around yourself. “Still getting used to it.”
“So?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “Why’re you up?”
You shrugged a shoulder, turning back to face the forever expanse of darkness and stars outside. “You know, in like, every movie I’ve ever seen about space, they talk about it being cold. You think that would have prepared me for just how… goddamn freezing it is on this thing.”
Peter chuckled quietly. “You get used to it.”
There was a pause, a moment of that silence that hung between the two of you. Then, you heard his footsteps approach you slowly. You jumped slightly as you felt his hand touch your shoulder, his palm smoothing down over your arm.
“I, uh…” he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Wh—?”
He wrapped his arms around you hesitantly, his hands tracking down your arms to join them where they were wound around your middle. You raised them in surprise, stumbling slightly as he tugged you gently back against his chest. Your hands settled on top of his arms, his skin wonderfully, surprisingly warm beneath your frigid fingers.
“…Oh.”
“Shit, you weren’t kidding about being cold…” he muttered, his hands moving to enclose yours between them. You sighed, watching his fingers curl around yours. Quill cleared his throat again after a moment, as if only now realising the intimacy of the situation. “Better?”
You nodded, leaning back into his embrace. “…I want to make a comment about you being so warm, but I just know you’re going to turn into a ‘hot’ joke.”
“It’s like you know me.”
You giggled quietly, resting your head back on his shoulder. “It really is amazing out here.”
Peter hesitated as your tone turned pensive, and you felt his hands squeeze yours, so gently you weren’t sure you hadn’t imagined it. “You’re not thinkin’ about leavin’ us already, are you?”
You paused a moment before answering. “Sometimes… I think that I should think that I should, y’know?”
“…You lost me.”
You smiled softly, relaxing further into his embrace. “No. I’m not going anywhere, Quill.”
You felt his chin rest on your hair. “Good. We’re kinda getting used to having you around.”
Peter Quill X Reader Requests (Gender Neutral or Male Reader)
Was scrolling through the Peter Quill X Reader tag and, like many others, I noticed a severe lack of gender neutral or male reader stories. Disappointing reveal but unsurprising nonetheless. While I can’t promise I’ll be able to follow through due to time constraints and health issues (shoutout to inconsistent work schedules for destroying my mental and physical health), I do want to try and write some reader inserts myself.
That being said, here is the formal invitation to send me requests for gender neutral (gn!reader) or male (m!reader) Peter Quill stories. I’m a trans guy myself so I am open to explicit transmasculine ideas as well. The more specific the request, the better. Bonus points if your request has something to do with friends to lovers tropes or first kiss moments. I’m a sucker for those kinds of stories.
Warnings: Language, Endgame/deleted scenes spoilers, and all the angst that comes with a love triangle
Summary: The Guardians cope with the after effects of the Infinity War. You try to open yourself to the possibility of a new dynamic between you and Quill.
A/N: Prompt and inspiration for this is the song A night to remember by Betty Who.
He was tearing himself apart. Everyday the circles around his eyes darkened, his eyes reddened. He hadn’t played a single tune in weeks and deferred more to Rocket’s whims, walking out of the cockpit when someone raised an issue, and everyone turned to him for remedy. You didn’t have to ask Mantis to know he was giving in to despair.
The dynamics of the crew had shifted too vastly.
Rocket and Nebula had been the only ones to survive the snap; they were five years older, harder. Stronger. They had had the time to mourn. For you, Peter, Drax, Mantis and Groot the war never stopped. There had been no respite.
It was stopping Thanos on one planet. Failing. Then racing to stop him and a grand army on another planet. And you had seen her.
Gamora.
Living, breathing, fighting. But she didn’t remember you. Any of you.
“She’s from the past.” Nebula had informed you during your brief encounter on the battlefield. A throbbing pain of relief struck through your chest like lightning. You could have sobbed; you were so grateful. Nebula turned to Gamora. “A friend.”
In that moment you realized the indifference on her face. And at Nebula’s insight, you saw her lip twitch in dismay.
Then a blast tore the earth beside you and it was back to battle.
When the dust settled, the war over, she was gone.
And it was all confusing.
“Do we mourn her; do we look for her?” You felt like your mind and heart were going in circles, tangling in logic and hope.
“Yes.” Nebula answered. It didn’t help. But it did help. She sat stoically beside you on a bench underneath a bare tree, facing the calm surface of the lake. Dressed respectively in black garb for Tony Stark’s funeral. Gamora was her sister. And she had grown close to Tony Stark. Sniffling, you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself and leaned your head on her shoulder. She didn’t lean in. But she allowed you to take her hand.
“We should do something.” Drax was saying when you entered the kitchen area. Mantis and Groot were seated at the table; Mantis hanging on to Drax’s every word and Groot looking bored. Drax turned to you. “Do you agree?”
“He’s mourning.” You say instead, busying yourself with setting a kettle of water to heat. It had been weeks since leaving Earth. And Peter was the only one getting worse with each passing day instead of better. You couldn’t admit you were starting to worry. That would mean you would have to do something about it.
“He isn’t mourning. He is wallowing. It’s sickening.”
Reaching up to the cabinets overhead, you rummaged through tin boxes and cardboard for some tea. The movement sent fire across a nerve in your right arm, shooting up to your shoulder.
“Fuck,” cradling your arm to your chest, you leaned over the counter and tensely waited for the pain to subside.
“You should get that looked at.” Mantis observed.
Biting your lip in a grimace, you exhaled sharply. “Yeah, thanks.” Your left arm shot up to retrieve the small box from the top shelf, nearly slamming it back down before you.
“I’ve got it. You should sleep with Quill!”
You whipped around. Mantis was staring between the two of you, eyes wide and mouth small. Groot’s boredom transitioned to one of interest as he lifted his head from resting on his hand.
“Here’s a better idea, Drax.” You volleyed. “Why don’t you sleep with him.”
Drax crossed his arms and jerked his head to the side as if he were flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I would do it if it got him out of his slump. But he isn’t in love with me.”
“I am Groot!” Groot spat before pushing his chair back and stomping out of the kitchen.
“Alright, what the hell did I just walk into?” Rocket’s voice piped up as he passed Groot.
“Y/N is going to sleep with Quill. That will surely make him feel better.”
“Shut up, Drax, I’m not doing that.” You finally found your tongue to respond.
“Make him feel better, sure. It would probably make her feel worse though.” Rocket spoke, ignoring your protest.
The kettle began to whistle.
“For fuck’s sake, you guys.” You pulled the kettle off the burner and shut off the heat. But you weren’t in the mood for tea anymore. “Peter is not in love with me. Drax, take your shot.”
“Oh man, you told her?”
Your eyes shot to Rocket as he took up a spot at the table. Drax dropped his hands to his hips and faced him.
“She already knows.”
“Drax, you idiot!”
“No, she does not.” Mantis hesitantly disagreed.
“What the hell are you all talking about?” You demanded, anger rising as they continued to talk about you as if you weren’t standing right there.
“Of course she does. How can she not? Everybody knows. Quill is in love with both her and Gamora. And both her and Gamora are in love with Quill.” He turned back to you, unaware of the mud he was dragging your emotions through. “We’ve been watching your dance for years. Rocket and I have a wager.”
“Oh my God, where is your off button!” Rocket screeched.
The blood had rushed to your head so that not only was your face hot, you were starting to get a headache. “What was the wager?”
Hearing the meekness of your voice, Rocket’s hackles slowly lowered. His fangs slipped back inside his lips and his ears flattened. “A wager on who Quill would choose.”
“I was betting on you. You and Peter are both dancers. It makes perfect sense.” Mantis placed a hand on Drax’s arm to get him to stop before he could do any more damage.
There was nothing in you to say. You had been beaten and bloody on many battlefields before, but never had you felt so exposed. Storming out of the kitchen, you didn’t stop even when you crashed into Peter on his way in.
It was enough to pull him from his stupor as he blinked and watched you turn the corner out of sight.
“What’s up with her?” He asked.
Mantis nervously looked to Drax while Rocket shook his head.
You holed yourself up in your room. The only light came streaming in purple from a passing galaxy. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you ran a medical scanner along the bare skin of your right arm. Every scan was coming up clean. But when you stretched your arm, you could feel the dull pain waiting to flare up if you moved too quickly.
You were considering asking for Nebula’s help when there was a knock on your door.
Shutting off the scanner, you waited to see if whoever it was would simply walk away. A second knock. And this time he called your name.
Dropping the scanner onto the bed cover, you pulled your sweater back on over your tank top and strode to the door. Hesitating, you leaned your head in and asked what he wanted.
“Can we talk?” He asked after a beat of silence.
Listening to the beat of your heart, you sighed and punched the button, opening the door between you so that you stood face to face. For the first time in weeks, his eyes landed on yours. They weren’t dull or lost. They were dark and searching.
He hadn’t stared at you like that for a long time.
“Can I come in?”
Your heart beat faster in your chest. “No.”
Blinking, he rocked back on his heels. “So, we’ll just talk right here in your doorway?”
You willed your heart to quit its shit. “Yeah.”
He rolled his tongue over his teeth, dropped his head and sighed. “Okay. It’s about Gamora.”
“You found her.” Hope bubbled in your throat.
“No. Wait, you knew?”
“That you’ve been searching for her?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes narrowed. You were acting as if it was a no brainer that you noticed. “Why…didn’t you say anything?”
Your forehead creased. “Because…I was letting you deal? What…what would you have wanted me to say?”
Exhaling sharply, he crossed his arms. “I don’t know. That it’s okay to move on, maybe? She’s made her choice to disappear. Maybe I should honor that? Stop chasing a ghost?”
You mirrored his stance. Sorting through his words and demeanor, it surprised you to conclude he was kind of pissed. “Okay, maybe you should come in.”
You stepped aside to let him in, then took a huge intake of breath to calm down before shutting the door. He stood at the center of the room, his eyes wandering around before finally settling on you. The purple light from the window washed over him, making his eyes and the shadows on his face darker.
“What did you want to tell me about Gamora?”
“Apparently nothing you didn’t already know.” You raised your eyebrows, refraining from responding to the bait. His face scrunched and his hand lifted to support his head. “How could you not tell me that you knew? Why let me keep searching?”
“Because maybe I needed you to find her.” At his stunned silence, you licked your lips and continued honestly. “I miss her. And I didn’t want to go looking for her…because…because say we find her and she rejects us. All of us. I was stuck between mourning her and wanting to look for her and I chose…I chose the safer option. I saw you looking for her. And I thought…if there is anyone who can bring her back…it’s you.”
Your vision blurred. When you dropped your head and blinked, the tears fell to the floor.
“I should have talked to you. We all could see how it was tearing you apart…looking for her by yourself. And I’m sorry for not approaching you sooner. We can talk right now, you and me.”
Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. His cheeks flushed at his bottom lip quivered. Hesitantly, you reached your hand out. His eyes stayed glued to yours as he reached out to take it.
You led him to sit at the edge of the bed, where you had sat before his arrival. When he sank into the mattress, the scanner slid to his rest against his thigh. He picked it up and looked to you in question.
“My arm has been bugging me.” You informed sheepishly. “Haven’t been able to get a solid reading though.”
“That’s not good, we only have one scanner.” His voice was thick with unshed tears. He switched the device on, then motioned for you to let him scan your arm.
“What?”
“We gotta make sure this works before one of us gets hurt again.”
“We’re supposed to be talking.”
“I’m going to prove you wrong first, then we can get to the talking.”
Groaning in protest, you pulled the sweater off so that he could scan your bare arm.
“I already scanned front and back.”
“Mmhm.”
Shaking your head, you let him read the results himself. When the device flashed green up into his face, he frowned. He then rolled to kneel behind you.
“What are you doing?”
“Sometimes the cause of pain isn’t directly where you feel the pain.” His fingers brushed the fabric of your tank top to the side and ran the scanner along your shoulder blade.
“Where’d you hear that from?” You tried to joke. But at his silence, the joke fell flat and you felt like curling into a ball. “Yeah, she would know something like that.”
“I’ve got it.” He spoke quietly. He held the scanner over your shoulder for you to see. “Compressed nerves in your shoulder.”
Even on the verge of tears, Peter could find a way to get under you skin.
Taking the scanner from him, you set it down in your lap and read through the options for remedies. Peter remained kneeling behind you, his chin dropping to his chest as he worked up the courage to say his peace.
“I felt guilty at the thought of moving on. It’s been five years for everyone else but…it was just a few weeks ago that she was on this ship. And then she was there on Earth. She was back. And we had a chance to…I wanted you to tell me that it was okay. I needed someone to tell me that it was okay to mourn her and let her go. Otherwise…I can’t.”
Shutting off the scanner, you slowly turned to face him. His fists were clenched, pushed deep into the mattress on either side of him. His shoulders, hunched. A flop of curls fell forward over his eyes, making him appear to be a lost child.
But you couldn’t tell him what he needed to hear.
The first time you met Peter Quill, you were in hiding, employed as a miner, excavating precious cells on the skull planet Knowhere. His first solo mission had been to locate and return you to a groom who had paid a large quantity to have you. Your meeting hadn’t gone so well.
He’d cornered you in a tavern. You kicked out the leg of his barstool and got him in trouble with a larger, temperamental species. Your options quickly dwindled as the night progressed.
Quill wasn’t the only merc hired to capture you. You’d gone from one set of handcuffs to another and another. No matter how many times you broke free and ran away, someone else was always lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.
So, you settled with Quill. He was the youngest. You could talk him into at least getting you off the planet before calling his catch in.
But the idiot got his spaceship towed and you were reduced to helping him get it back.
You remember wondering who you had been in your past life to have such despicable luck. A conqueror maybe. That would explain the constant shackles around your wrists.
Using the contacts you had established on Knowhere, you were able to set up a meeting in a night club. You had insisted going in without the cuffs. Quill had called you stupid for thinking he would be so stupid.
“They’re not going to trust me if I show up in cuffs and you’re holding the key, asshole.”
You could laugh at his face now. He had been so utterly offended.
You kissed him in that night club. Because you had to. You recognized some of the mercenaries from earlier that night, but you couldn’t leave without meeting your contact. You’d pulled him up against a dark corner, grabbing both sides of his face to bring his lips crashing down against yours. It was a clacking of teeth and jerking limbs. You had held onto his head for dear life, closing your eyes and praying the mercenaries would pass you by.
To this day, you don’t know if he saw what you were doing or if he simply reacted. But eventually, he was the one pushing you up against the wall, his hands around your waist and tongue slipping into your mouth. The base of the speakers reverberated in your chest as you slowly pulled away. Vision hazy and mouths breathing in shared air, you were certain you forgot your own name.
Yellow flashed to red and swiveled away, leaving his face dark before green speckled across his forehead and pulsed with the beat
Glass shattering behind the bar brought you back to yourself and you spotted your contact walking through the door.
Peter stirred in your arms, pulling you from your memories of that night. When you couldn’t offer Peter what he needed to hear, you had wrapped him in an embrace instead. He broke down, crying into your shoulder. You held him for as long as he needed to be held. That meant eventually laying down in your bed when he cried himself to exhaustion.
He lay over you like a big, warm, heavy blanket, his head resting on your chest and his arm wrapping tightly around your waist; legs entangled. His breathing changed and you could feel his fingers lightly caressing your side.
You realized he was matching the soothing tempo of your hand running up and down his back. His pleas ran over and over in your mind. You knew he was still waiting for you to tell him what to do.
But your mind raced back to that night. When you and Peter finally got off planet and he was faced with the moral dilemma of turning you in. You had pleaded with him then. But you hadn’t used your words.
Finding him at the helm, you had straddled him in the seat and kissed him deeply. Hands grazing, lips searching, you let him touch you the way no one ever had. He carved out a place in your heart that night, searing it permanently when he let you free the next morning.
Drax’s words echoed back at you.
“Everybody knows. Quill is in love with both her and Gamora. And both her and Gamora are in love with Quill.”
Your hand stilled on Peter’s back.
“Everybody knows.”
“Peter?” Your voice trembled.
Searching for you…
He hummed in answer; the vibration warm between your bodies.
You couldn’t tell him what to do about Gamora. But you could tell him why.
His head lifted. Your eyes locked.
Tell him.
Wanting more you…
A digital beep chirped, distracting you. Peter pulled away, rolling onto his side to grasp a device on his belt. He pulled it up between them. Their eyes studied the device, then each other.
“What is it?” You asked.
His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly hung open as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “The computer found Gamora.”
Summary: (Modern AU) Peter was your college sweetheart until a certain event led to your break up. Seven years later another event brings you two back together, but this time a little girl is in the picture. Will listening to your podcasts be the reason you two get back together or be another reason to keep you apart?
Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader
Word Count: 3790
Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing
Subscribe Masterlist / Main Masterlist
Peter stepped into Walkman Records feeling good. His head was clear instead of in the throbbing cloudiness it was the previous day. It felt like it was going to be a good day. Sure, it was almost noon, and he had to be at Mer’s parent-teacher conferences in an hour, but he was ready for it.
“Good afternoon, Peter. You’re looking sober today,” Mants grinned as Peter collected his mail from his cubby.
“Ahh yeah,” he nodded at her with a half smirk. Mantis was someone who wasn't afraid to state the obvious, and it's one of the reasons he hired her. He made his way to his office to find Bucky lifting Nat in the air, smiling up at her. “Oh joy, it must be nice being in a healthy relationship. Thanks for rubbing it in.”
“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Bucky asked, gazing at Nat. She nodded at him to continue with a contagious smile on her face. "We're pregnant.”
“Wow, that's ahhh...I don't...congratulations you two,” Peter stated with wide eyes and a half smile. “Didn’t even know you two were trying? I’m happy for you both.”
“Then, why don’t you look happy for us?”
“It’s just you two are moving on with your life, and I'm kind of stuck here.” Peter shrugged, motioning around the room.
“Come on, man.” Bucky squeezed his shoulder. “We wouldn’t leave you behind…you were our first child.”
“I appreciate it,” Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I am really happy for you two though. It will be nice to have another mascot running around here and wreaking havoc.”
“Peter, I--” Nat stammered “--I went to see YN yesterday.”
“What? Why?” He dropped the mail on his desk, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Someone needed to tell her about Bereet, and given your track record, you would've waited another seven years,” Nat confessed, forcing Peter to scoff.
“Why would you do that? I was gonna talk to her, and now you ruined it.”
“Before or after she moved to New York.”
“What...what are you talking about?”
“YN got a promotion to run the new Potts of Honey facility in New York. Why do you think she went there in the first place? To check out the sights?”
“No, no no.” Peter shook his head. “She would’ve told me this.” He stared hard at the floor in defeat. “Do you know when she leaves? Is she taking Mer with her?”
“Better question, why haven't you told her how you feel?"
“Tell her? She fucking hates me.”
“Are you sure it’s hate? Last I heard you said she loves you.” Peter grunted, shaking his head. “Are you going to let her getaway for the 3rd time, or are you going to chase her down?”
“Shut up.” Peter stood there with his eyes moving back and forth, clenching and unclenching his jaw, trying to figure out what to do. “Son of a bitch,” he cursed, running out of the room with his phone in his hand.
“You had to go that far to say she was moving?”
“Lit a match under his ass, didn’t it.”
“It did,” Bucky smirked. "We’re going to make such great parents.”
_________
Everything was set up for this week’s podcast. Pepper was ready to share the exciting news about the expansion of Potts of Honey and the new product lines hitting shelves within the next couple weeks.
“Okay, Darcey, whatever you do. Do not let anyone in the room while we are recording because I hate editing these podcasts. It takes forever.” She nodded. “If you have any questions at all, use the whiteboard.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Great, I will be with you in here until...” Your phone ringing interrupted you. You peeked at the screen, seeing Peter’s name and hit ignore. “...until I get summoned in.” He was on his way to Mers parent-teacher conferences for the first time, and he was either worried or didn’t know what to do.
“You got it, dude.”
“Good,” you replied as Pepper and Wanda walked in. “Ready ladies?”
“Born ready,” Wanda smirked, taking her usual chair in the booth.
“Are you sure about your decision?” Pepper asked you before walking into the booth.
“Yes, I am,” you smiled. “You're more than welcome to announce it over the podcast.”
“Excellent,” she pulled you into a tight hug.
“We will be recording in 5, 4, 3,” you said as you mouthed 2, 1, and pointed at Wanda. You pushed the button to signal the red on-air light above the door outside, so no one would disturb your production.
“Hello, my wonderful listeners. Welcome back to another episode of Everyday’s a Monday. You are all in for a treat today! We are speaking with my boss, the lovely Pepper Potts hyphen Stark. She's speaking about the future of Potts and Honey and new products being released in the coming weeks. Later, YN will be joining us after not saying a word on here for about two episodes now. I have a conspiracy theory about how she might’ve paid our guests to not get her to come on the show. She's shaking her head no, but I know the truth,” she chuckled, getting Pepper crack a smile. “Turns out we also have our new intern, Darcey, helping out in the recording booth. This means YN has no choice but to join us today. But first, play that awesome intro.”
You hit the button to signal the short upbeat catchy tune that plays at the beginning of each podcast. It was a little redundant, but it kept things fun. It also made Everyday’s a Monday stand out and be more recognizable like any opening to your favorite tv show.
“Pepper, it is great to have you back on the show.”
“It’s always fun coming on here and talking with you both.”
“The boss said both, so YN get your ass in here,” Wanda waved you in, and you stepped into the booth.
“You just had to say the magic word, didn’t you, Pepper?” You spoke into your mic and slid your headphones over your ears. You sat in your usual spot right across from Wanda with your back to the door while Pepper sat at the end of the rectangle table.
“Couldn’t help myself,” she laughed.
_______
Parent-teacher conferences went off without a hitch. He gave Mer a few fist bumps as the teacher praised her for how well she was doing in her classes. There was one teacher, who didn’t like how she spoke up in class, but Peter ignored him by nodding along and acting like he was listening. Mer had to nudge him a few times because he zoned out during this teacher's rant. Overall, the teachers love Mer and how open she is to learning. With it being conferences, Mer was able to leave school early for the day, and after telling Mer about his plan, he knew exactly what he needed to do.
Peter walked through the rotating doors of the Potts of Honey headquarters building with Meredith in tow. It was crazy how many buildings were on the grounds, but he assumed they all had a specific purpose. They walked up to the welcome desk seeing three receptionists typing away on their computers.
“Hi, Peter and Meredith Quill here to see YN LN,” Peter said to the lady with blonde hair.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she is unavailable at the moment. I can take a message for her if you’d like.”
“Look--” he reads her nametag “--Sharon, it will take like ten minutes tops.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go up without her approval.” Peter nodded, thanking her for her help, and turned around to leave.
“Hey, Quill.” Peter looked over, seeing Drax waving at him.
“Drax, hey, buddy. I haven’t seen you since you worked security at the Howling Commandos concert.”
“Wild night,” he chuckled.
“This is my daughter Meredith.”
“I know her too well.” Drax held up his hand, giving her a high five. “What brings you here?”
“I need to get up to see YN.”
“Desk lady, I am taking Quill and his daughter on a tour. Give me two badges.” Sharon rolled her eyes, handing them over to him. “This way. Follow me.”
________
“What is this big exciting news you are bouncing up and down to share with us, Pepper?” Wanda questioned, wearing a huge smile on her face. She already knew the news, but she was good at faking enthusiasm when she needed to.
“Yes, well, very recently I sent these two lovely ladies, YN and Wanda, to New York City to scope out properties, and I am happy to announce we will be opening up a new Potts of Honey facility in New York,” Pepper informed while you and Wanda cheered. “And I have more news. YN here will be taking over the Malibu division while I will be heading to New York division. But don’t worry, this podcast will still be airing an episode weekly.”
“Whew, I thought I was out of a job for a second,” Wanda wheezed, wiping her forehead.
“If only,” you chuckled, earning a glare from Wanda before everyone started laughing.
“At least this way, YN has the option to be with Star-Lord.”
“I’m ignoring that for now,” you sighed. “What is going to be different about this facility?”
“It won’t be much different than the one here in Malibu. I pride myself on putting family first and jobs second. It has been my mentality from the beginning, and I don't plan on changing it. I want to hire parents to be or parents who want to return to work after taking a leave to take care of their youngsters. I love working with these types of individuals because they have opinions and know what type of products parents want to see on the market.”
“I still love that mentality to this day,” Wanda confessed. “Like many times before, we did take some questions from the listeners, and we are going to be answering some right now. Many listeners might not have known about the new facility, but some did ponder it. Let’s begin with….”
________
Drax, Peter, and Meredith stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the building. It wasn’t a high building, but the twelfth floor still offered a great view of the grounds. Peter’s mind was running a mile a minute, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say to you. He had a plan, but it was only 12% of a plan which involved convincing you not to leave. He needed you in his life, and he hoped you still needed him, too.
“My dad is going to make a grand gesture to my mom,” Mer told Drax with a cheeky smile.
“Really? Do you think he has a chance?”
“Will you two be quiet? I’m right here.” He glanced behind him as they continued to walk down the long hall.
“We know. Why do you think we are talking so loud,” Drax stated, earning a giggle out of Meredith.
“I was hoping my plan would work. I have been trying to parent trap them like Lindsay Lohan did in that movie before she kind of went crazy.”
“You are one smart girl, Mer, and I’m positive your plan will work,” Drax winked, making an excited smile appear on Mer’s face. “I mean, it worked for Lindsay Lohan, but then she went crazy. I still often wonder what happened to her twin.”
Mer looked at Peter with a confused expression, forcing him to let a raspy chuckle escaped him. “Drax, she doesn’t have a--” Drax stared at him with an intense glare forcing Peter to bite his tongue “--never mind.” Peter shook his head, seeing a door at the end of the hallway with an ON-AIR sign shining above it. “Is this the right door?” Drax nodded as Peter knocked on the door.
“Can I help you security guy, adorable little girl, and the other dude?” The young lady asked, eyeing each of them over as she opened the door.
“Quill here needs to speak to his woman.” Drax patted him on one of his shoulders.
“Dude. Ow.”
“Sorry, but you can’t come in. They’re recording an episode, and YN hates editing, so it’s better if left undisturbed, okay? Buh-bye, thank you, come back later.”
“Wait!” Peter grabbed the door to keep it from closing. “It’s okay; I’m Star-lord.”
“Who?”
“Come on, the amazing mystery dude that YN talks about on this podcast. YN’s ex, who she shares a daughter with.”
“Hence this small human beside us,” Drax informed, motioning to a grinning Mer beside him.
“This is my first time listening to this podcast, so I have no idea who you are. I’m only here for college credit, so no, you’re not coming in.”
“Okay fine, how about I give you.” Peter pulls out his wallet, digging around in it. “Fifty bucks?”
“Well if I get fired over this, I will be out at least $350 for my college credit, so technically I won’t be out anything if you reimbursed me in full.”
Peter sighed, looking unamused but gave in to her demands. He dug through his wallet once more and handed her the rest of the money.
“Come on in fellas.”
_______
“Next question is for Wanda and YN,” Pepper announced, reading the question to herself before reading it aloud. “Oh, this is a good one. What is something you regret from your past and why?”
“Oh, this one is tough,” Wanda added, tapping her finger to her chin. “I would say I regret not traveling more when I was younger since I didn’t have many responsibilities. Now I am kind of tied down, but I still love my life and wouldn’t change a thing. Who asked this question?”
Your head snapped in Pepper’s direction, but something moving behind you caught the attention of both your co-hosts; Wanda’s mouth dropped open, and Pepper's eyebrows shot up her forehead. You narrowed your eyes at them before turning around to find Peter Quill. Behind him, Darcey held up the whiteboard saying ‘Incoming, Star-Crunch?'
“Peter, what are you...what are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be in here. We’re in the middle of an episode.” You stood up, taking your headset off and setting them around your neck.
“Do you want to know what I regret from my past?”
“No, not right now, Peter. Can we do this later? I’m working.” You put your hands on his chest to try and push him out of the room, but he grabbed your forearms, stopping you. You gazed into his eyes, seeing something you haven’t seen since the night you slept with him.
“Nat told me,” he confessed. “Please don’t move to New York.” You try to say something, but he keeps talking. “You’re in my life again, and I don’t want you to go. I wish things in the past would’ve worked out differently. If I wasn’t such a coward, maybe they would’ve, but this time I’m not gonna let you walk out on me.”
“Peter, I’m not...”
“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. Please just let me talk for once,” he interrupted, forcing you to snap your mouth shut. “When I got the call about you being in an accident, right then I knew I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to lose you for real. Deep down, I always thought we would find each other again,” he confessed, taking your hands into his. “Then, I found out about Meredith. The amazing sweet little girl who showed me what I was missing out on for the last 7 years.” Peter glanced behind him, and you peeked around him to see Mer wearing a toothy grin on her face. She gave him a thumbs up, and you didn’t miss the lopsided smirk spreading across Peter's face as he turned back to you.
“After you woke up, everything happened so fast. We were getting along and rocking this co-parenting thing most parents seem to struggle with. Then, I told you I never cheated, you kissed me, and we slept together. The next day, you told me it was all a mistake, but we both know that wasn’t true,” he murmured, staring into your eyes. “I hate how I hurt you all over again. We both know I have horrible timing when it comes to fixing my wrongs, but I can’t let another day go by without telling you how I feel. You were the one for me. You still are.” Your eyes widened at his confession. “Where will this big grand gesture leave us? I don’t know.
What I do hope for is that you will give me a chance to redeem myself. I want to be there for you and Mer. I want to watch her grow up into an incredible young woman, like you, with you by my side. I want to help you protect her from assholes who will break her heart, but still encourage her to find love and happiness. Even in times when you thought you were never going to get another chance. But before you know it you’re laying your heart on the line, hoping you’re not making a complete ass of yourself," he cleared his throat. “I regret many decisions in my life, but the one thing I regret most was not chasing after you the day you walked away from me. This time, I'm going to fight for you to stay because...well, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I don’t think I ever stop loving you.”
Pepper and Wanda gasped behind you. “Ladies and gents, this is Wanda speaking in a hushed tone. If you haven’t made the connection thus far, Peter Quill is Star-Lord aka Star-Lord is Peter Quill, just to clarify things.” You shook your head, staring at Peter’s chest as she narrated the moment through your headphones.
You squeezed his hands as you let go of one of his and placed it over his heart. His soft gaze sent a flutter to your heart and a blush to your cheeks. “Peter, I’m not going anywhere. Pepper is the one moving to New York while I’m taking things over here. Nat obviously said what she needed to to get you to barge in here,” you added, making him raise his eyebrows at the realization.
“Guess I will have to thank her later.”
“But you’re right about one thing. What happened between us wasn’t a mistake, but I still couldn’t help but think I was the other woman.” You lowered your head, letting out a deep breath. He put his hand under your chin and lifted it to stare into your eyes.
“You are the only woman,” Peter replied, making you crack a small smile.
“My biggest regret was not telling you about Meredith sooner. I guess it was my own selfish pride that I wanted to prove to myself that I didn’t need you in my life. Truth is, I did, and so did Mer. I didn’t want to see it for myself, but watching you two together warms my heart. I wish I could say I fell out of love with you, but I never did.” You slid your hand from his heart to cup his cheek, and Peter leaned into your touch. He bit down on his bottom lip as he leaned in closer to you feeling his breath become shaky against your lips. He gazed into your eyes before his lips collided with yours.
“Woooo! Their smacking lips now! Get it, girl,” Wanda hollered from her chair as Pepper joined in with her.
“Bought fricken time, am I right, Mer?”
“Yes, you are Auntie Wanda,” Mer replied through your headphones. You didn’t even notice her sneak pass you and Peter.
“Guess all those parent trapping tricks I taught you paid off,” Wanda added, giving Mer a high-five. You pulled away from Peter, resting your forehead against his smiling. “I bet they’re going to get married, now. Would you like that, Mer?”
“Yes, I would love it,” she gushed beside Wanda.
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you two.” You glared at them, feeling Peter's chest vibrate from a soft chuckle. “We should at least go out on a not a date date first.”
“Hear that folks, it’s happening. It’s like their first not a date date all over again. Did I predict this or what?” Wanda grinned into her headset.
You looked back at Peter as he shot you a quick wink and your favorite boyish smile. It was the same little sexy smile that drove you crazy all those years ago. You smiled at him, resting your forehead on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You heard him let out a deep breath, and in your heart, you knew he was always the one for you, and like many great loves, you fell in love with your best friend.
“How about we close out this episode,” Pepper offered.
“Thanks for the assist, Pepper. Come on, Twig. Let's get out of here.” Peter loosened his grip on you and held out his hand for Mer. She grinned, rushing towards him, and Peter leaned down and scooped her up in his arms. You couldn’t stop the heartfelt smile from appearing on your face. Peter grabbed hold of your hand with his other hand as he leaned over to kiss your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the warmth spread all over your body. When you opened your eyes, you found Peter giving Mer a quick kiss on the forehead, and without saying a word, you knew exactly what he meant.
“Awww, what a cute family,” Wanda commented, snapping a photo with her phone. “This picture is going on our Instagram page, so be on the lookout listeners.”
“And I thought Tony had terrible timing,” Pepper declared with a knowing grin.
“I don’t think we have any more to discuss on this week’s episode, but wasn’t it a great one. We found out Potts of Honey is expanding, Star-Lord’s real identity is none other than Walkman Records owner Peter Quill, and Pepper Potts is going to be leaving us. It’s a sad yet happy day. I’m only hoping this whole episode recorded everything and that YN doesn’t edit anything out, but let’s be real folks she never edits,” Wanda chuckled. “Don’t forget to tip your waiters and waitresses. And as always, don’t forget to subscribe.”
_______
AN: That's all folks. How bout that ending though? The podcast restarted their relationship, so I thought ending with one would be neat. It also might've felt rushed towards the end, but I kind of liked how it turned out. Like, rushing to someone you love in an airport or wherever else you might be. Cleshay, but the rush of excitement at the same time...haha. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it. Glad you stuck with me through the end. Comments are always welcome and as always thanks for reading!
Summary: Trying to stop seeing Peter was easier than it sounded, and after a particularly bad date Y/N finds herself running back to the man she’d said she was done with
*************
Peter lies in bed smugly, his arms locked behind his head while he watches you pull your jeans back on like a king surveying his kingdom.
“This is the last time Peter.” You say as you search the ground for your shirt, locating it and throwing it over your head. He rolls his eyes playfully at your statement, his smirk not leaving his lips.
“You’ve said that too many times to count.” You wish you could say something to wipe the overconfident grin from his face, but you knew he was right. If you had a dollar for every time you’d made that statement then you’d have enough to fund the dates you should be going on instead of wasting your time with ‘Starlord’, which you absolutely refused to call him. You weren’t lying on the occasions you’d told Peter it would be the last time, you had meant it every single time. Yet somehow you always found yourself tangled in the sheets with him again and again. As hard as you try you can’t quit him, he’s your personal drug. You didn’t need to smoke, his lips giving you a bigger head rush than any cigarette, his touch lighting up your veins more than any needle.
“This time I mean it. I have a date tonight.” You can’t help but smile at his raised eyebrow despite the fact he recovers it quickly.
“Oh yea, how’d you two meet?” His question irritates you as you know the reaction your response will illicit.
“We haven’t,” you relent, “it’s a blind date.” Just as you expected he chuckles at you making you bite the inside of your cheek in irritation as you tie your laces.
“Oh that’s perfect, ‘cause they always work out.” The nonchalant tone in his voice does nothing to hide the cynicism in his words to which you can’t help but grin at.
“That wouldn’t be jealousy I hear, would it Quill?” Peter scoffs at your question.
“Jealousy, from me? No, I’m just concerned about what high collared, mother’s basement living loser you’re gonna be stuck with tonight.” He removes his hands from behind his head in a mock gesture of surrender before continuing. “But that’s your decision and I wish you luck.” The sarcasm dripping from his voice portraying the true meaning behind his words. You pick up your handbag and go to exit his bedroom.
“I want a relationship Peter, and that starts with this,” you say motioning between the two of you, “ending.” You take a moment to take him in in all his glory, the thin white sheet loosely sitting on his hip bones, his bare chest that earlier you’d been running your hands over, exposed to the air.
“Whatever you say Y/N, but you know what they say about old habits.” You tsk-ed at him and left the room before he could shoot any more smug comments at you.
Peter Quill wasn’t the ‘relationship type’, you had known that from the first alcohol fuelled night that you had spent with him. You’d been lying beside him, chest heaving and body still tingling, when he was already trying to get you out of the room with excuses and charm. You hadn’t cared much at the time, leaving and thinking nothing more of it. A chance encounter with him a second time had propelled your relationship from one night stand to a regular occurrence, both of understanding that casual was all you’d wanted from each other.
The more you’d seen of Peter the more sure of that fact you’d been. He was a flirt and a womanizer, almost as if it was within his very DNA to hit on any woman in his vicinity. You hadn’t cared though, as long as his attention was on you when you wanted it, which it always was.
The day flew by and before you knew it, it was time to meet your date. You waited at the table you’d booked at a casual restaurant, twirling your fork against the table cloth out of nerves. After waiting half an hour your date finally arrived with no excuse or apology for his tardiness.
While he wasn’t the momma’s boy that Peter had foretold, he was arguably worse. Your date insisted that he ordered for you, spoke about himself and nothing but, and then gave you advice on how to advance your career that he knew nothing about. A momma’s boy sounded like a pipe dream by the time you’d finished convincing your date that you were more than capable of getting your own taxi home.
You flop down onto your double bed, burying your head into your pillows so that you can let out a dramatic muffled scream. Your phone dinging briefly pulled you out of your wallowing, but not for long when you see it was from Peter.
From: Peter
How was it, is he going to make an honest woman of you?
God, he could be a jerk. You almost didn’t want to reply, but when it comes to Peter you can’t help yourself.
To: Peter
You’re invited to the wedding. You’re not getting a plus one so don’t even ask.
You let out a self-pitying sigh. All you want is to be able to move on with your life. You have the career and for the first time in a long time you feel ready for a relationship. You have a feeling if dating was going to continue the way it had gone tonight though that you wouldn’t be getting into any relationships any time soon.
From: Peter
Can I swap the plus one for a night, let’s say tonight?
You knew this was coming before you’d even seen the message, because this is how it always goes. You start completely unwilling to see him and then he charms you until you’re at his place taking his clothes off. Tonight though no coaxing was going to be necessary. You wanted that fix of nicotine and his electric touch to banish the memories from tonight.
To: Peter
I’ll be there in 15.
You wanted familiar, you wanted a distraction. You wanted Peter.
You’re at his place in record time. You impatiently rap against his front door and he’s there before you can blink. Your hands go directly to his face as you pull him in for a hungry kiss. He spins you around to pull you through the threshold so he can close the close behind you, never detaching his lips from yours.
“Your date was this good huh?” He says against your lips in between kisses.
“Don’t even go there.” You detach your lips from his to pull his shirt off as you speak. Once removed, his hands grab your hips and he pulls you flush against his body.
“Jump.” He whispers demandingly in your ear and you oblige instantly, jumping so he can catch you by your thighs and carry on your heated kiss into his bedroom.
*************
You lie in bed spent from your latest fix. The sheets cling to your still sweaty body as you relish in the dull ache of your limbs. You have your head resting on Peter’s outstretched arm as you both lay on your backs regaining your breath.
“So, you going to tell me about this date or am I gonna have to trick the info out of you?” He says playfully with a grin spreading across his lips. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he was so curious, but relenting none-the-less.
“He was a sexist douche who ordered me a salad while telling me how to live my life.” You surmise, wanting to keep this conversation short. Peter lets out a whistle.
“Yikes, guy really had no game at all.” You let out a small laugh at this and agree with Peter.
You fall into a comfortable silence as you both gaze at the ceiling that is so familiar to you by now that you had memorised every line and crack on it.
“Can I ask you something?” He all but whispers. You find a verbal response would be ill-fitting so you simply nod for him. “Why are you going on dates all of a sudden?” Your brows furrow instantly at his completely out of character question. You guys were casual, always had been, your respective dating lives on a strictly need to know basis.
You breathe out as you try to find the words to answer his question. “I’m ready to move on with my life. As fun as what we have is I need something more.” The room becomes silent at the end of your question. You chance a look at Peter’s face and see his eyes on you, as if searching for more answers in your features.
“What if I can give you something more?” You can’t help it, you throw your head back and laugh at his question. When your still smiling face looks back at his you see no hint of humour on his features. Instead he appears serious, his lips slightly turned down at your reaction.
“Oh c’mon Peter, you can’t be serious?” Your incredulous tone deepens his frown, and his eyes shift around your face.
“Yeah I’m serious. You don’t have to act like it’s the craziest thing you ever heard.”
You sit up in bed and turn your body so that you’re facing his lying form. You thoroughly search his features for any small detail that would give his lie away, but you are forced to take his words as truth when you find nothing.
If you were being honest with yourself, when you and Peter had first started you’d toyed with the idea of pushing for something more. He was a nice guy and he made you laugh even when you didn’t want to. As picturesque as you had once found that notion, you were forced at every turn to face the reality it would never happen. It wasn’t in his nature, every time he asked for a girl’s number it was as if it was a compulsion, a need. Peter wasn’t made for monogamy so you had come to realise he wasn’t made for you.
“Where is this coming from Peter? You don’t do relationships, you told me that when we first met.” He sits up and mirrors your position so that you are both facing each other, his knees brushing against yours. “What about the other girls you’re sleeping with?”
“There are no other girls.” What? As long as you’d known him there had been other girls, so many that you were sure he didn’t know all of their names. “There hasn’t been for a while now, it just didn’t feel right anymore.” Your eyes watched his lips move, assessing every word that crossed them.
“What are you saying?” Your eyes lock as he considers his answer to your question, both of you knowing that your relationship could be forever changed.
“I like you Y/N, I like you a lot.” There it was, laid out in front of you, words that you had never considered he’d speak to you. Words that you had no response for. He senses your hesitation and gently reaches across and grabs one of your hands, running his thumb delicately across your knuckles as he continues. “I know we said we wanted casual, if that’s what you still want I can do that. But now you’re looking, would you go on a date with me?”
He was being vulnerable, with gentle touches and hopeful eyes, in a way you had never seen before. You have no idea what to tell him and you truly don’t know what you want from him.
“I never thought this was an option, I haven’t even thought about it”, you tell him honestly. He nods his head with you in understanding.
“I know, Y/N, I know. Can you give us a chance? Just go on one date with me and if it doesn’t work out we can drop it, forget it ever happened.”
It would be easier to deny him, you know it would. Your relationship until this point had been easy and carefree with clearly defined parameters. If you agreed you’d be throwing what made your relationship so easy out the window.
Looking up at his eyes with the gentle movement of his thumb against your hand you recall when you had wanted something more, how you had felt about him, and you realise that those feelings had become dormant but were still present.
“Okay Peter, one date. If you blow it there’s no second though”, you say with a mock threatening tone. His smile at your answer makes the trial you have signed yourself up for feel completely worth it.
You have no clue if this is a good idea, in fact you have your suspicions that it’s not, but you can’t close the door of possibility before it’s even open.
Peter leans forward and places an excited kiss upon your lips before grinning his signature cocky smirk at you and speaking.
❝I’m not taking that medicine, it’s disgusting.❞ With peter quill please?
When the two of you got caught in a thunderstorm a few days ago, Peter swore he never got sick. “It’s the alien blood in me,” he tried, sniffling a little as you made your way back on the ship and pulling off his soaked jacket. “I’ll be fine.”
Four days later, Peter was on bed rest. You’d insisted, as had all the other Guardians. Rocket happily took over the job of being co-captain with Gamora while Peter rested up, even if Peter hated it.
“You’re only going to get better if you rest, Pete,” you leant back against the chair beside his bed. He was tucked in, head resting against a pillow. There was a half full box of tissues beside him and he’d been running a temperature all day. You’d taken on nurse duties.
Peter screwed up his nose and sniffed. “Do aliens get sick? Like full aliens.”
“I guess so,” you shrugged. “I mean, you’re sick, and you’re half. I’d say it’s a safe bet.”
He huffed and ripped out another tissue from the box, angrily blowing his nose for the millionth time that day. When he was done, he sighed and snuggled further down into the bed. “I’d intended for it to be romantic as hell, you know? Getting stuck in that thunderstorm? I was gonna do one of those things you see in movies and kiss you in the rain.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Pete, that’s only romantic in movies. In real life, it ends up like this. You, sick in bed, and me, watching over you to make sure you’re recovering,” you chuckled. “If you wanted something romantic, you’re gonna have to wait a little longer now.”
“I haven’t kissed you in five days, so I think I’ve waited a while,” he frowned. “Hey, sickness – can you just go away now? I’ve learnt my lesson. Give me back my life now!”
As you reached down to grab the bottle of medicine from the side table, Peter continued to talk to his ‘sickness’, begging it to leave him alone. You smiled at him as he spoke, chuckling quietly at this absolute dork of a man that you loved.
“Well, if you wanna get better, Pete…”
He glanced over to you, spotting the medicine in your hand and instantly shook his head. He stuck out his tongue in disgust and furrowed his eyebrows, looking utterly adorable in his quest to deny the medicine that would ultimately help him.
“I’m not taking that medicine,” Peter frantically shook his head. “It’s disgusting.”
“It’ll make you better, Pete,” you tried.
Peter shook his head once more. “Nope, not happening.”
“And the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can kiss me again…” You knew that one would work, and Peter narrowed his eyes as he met your gaze once more. You could see his resolve breaking and knew that he was going to end up taking the medicine.
Reluctantly, Peter pouted and reached out a hand to take the spoon. “Fine. But if it doesn’t make me better enough to kiss you tomorrow, I’m suing.”
Prompt: Peter and reader being sort of cute together. Mainly just fluff.
Warnings: Fluff, mentions of sex. Swearing.
Abbreviations: (B/S) = Body Size
Author: Gemma
“(Y/N)...” You heard a deep voice purr in your ear as you shifted, attempting to shove yourself deeper into the soft bed sheets.
“Leave me alone, I just want another hour,” you grumbled, kicking at whatever hard object was next to you.
A hand grazed your cheek shortly after, followed by someone’s lips trailing down your bare back. “We can’t stay in bed all day. Come on before I do this forcefully.”
You then recognized the voice as your boyfriend’s, Peter. That immediately ticked you off even more. “This is your fault, Quill. Had you just left it at two or three rounds last night I would be happy to get up.”
Peter laughed in response, flipping over your (b/s) figure. He straddled you and kissed you gently, “is my little princess sore? Awe, poor baby. I’ll just have to carry you around all day.”
“I told you not to call me that,” you growled, “just lay down next to me and be happy I am capable of forgiving you.”
“And why would I do that?” he scoffed.
“Because everything hurts and I never want to move again and you love me and don’t want to see me in pain,” you replied, giving your best puppy face to the man.
“Not gonna happen, (Y/N)..” He then proceeded to throw you over his shoulder, earning a squeal from you as he plopped you onto the floor. He took off his shirt and threw it at you. “Put that on. I don’t want Rocket staring at you.”
You rolled your (e/c) eyes but complied, sliding the oversized (f/c) tee over your body. It fell long enough to be a dress. You then proceeded to throw your hands hands us, silently demanding to be carried.
“I got you that bad, huh?” Peter laughed and wrapped an arm around your waist and an arm under your knees, elevating you from the ground. He exited the room, bringing you out to the center of the ship and laying you on one of the couches near the window of the floor.
A loud bang was then heard, making Gamora’s presence known. “You two could have been a little more subtle last night. Do you know how hard it is to fall asleep to your sounds?” She grunted, placing a hand on her hip.
“I’m sorry, that was his fault. He didn’t want to stop,” you piped up, smiling as Peter glared at you. ‘I love you,’ you mouthed to him.
“Well then it’s Peter who gets to deal with the punishment,” Gamora smirked, drawing one of her swords.
‘I love you too,’ Peter mouthed back, taking out a gun.
Can’t Get It Out Of My Head (Peter Quill x Reader)
For @ravingmadstark to whom I’ve owed this since January.
In which you slow dance with the one and only Star-Lord. (insp.)
He so desperately wanted to be called Star-Lord, but everyone called him Quill. Except for you. You preferred to use Peter, and maybe that was why he fell in love so hard. Rarely did anyone address him without a tinge of sarcasm or playful banter in their voice—something he was very guilty of reciprocating—but when you spoke to him, he felt validated in ways he never knew he could. You gave him a sense of responsibility. A feeling of warmth and excitement. A drive in life, fueled not by a desire for the admiration of others, but rather, a need to make you feel the same way he did. Happy.
Your initial glimpse of Peter was the day of Ronan’s defeat. Hair disheveled. Clothes torn. Face scratched up. He was dancing to a song you’d never heard, and your entire body reacted. It tingled and shook from your toes, to your heart strings, up your throat, to your brain where the sensation settled, leaving only one thought. Shit. You’d gone through life thinking love at first sight was nothing more than a myth. But there you were. In love. Or something like it. You were stubborn when it came to things like that, so you chalked it up to lust—somehow that felt more dignified.
There was alcohol involved in your first encounter. That was always how these things seemed to go. The big hero, off to celebrate at a local bar; you, the plain civilian, coincidentally at the same place, standing in a corner. Music was playing, but the melodies were foreign, and you could only assume that they were his. Most of them were upbeat, but occasionally things would slow down a little, and that’s when he shined the brightest. He’d move about the room fluidly, pulling the other patrons close. Dipping them, spinning them, pressing his body against theirs. Leaving a trail of longing eyes in his wake. You couldn’t help but feel jealous, but at the same time, you were grateful. Unless you were alone in the safety of your room, dancing was not your forte. And so you nursed your drink and watched.
He moved closer and you got a better look at his face, confirming that he was the most unrealistically handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. It was the sort of thing that held a hypnotic element, capturing your eyes and refusing to let them free of his spell. The sappiness of it all was enough to make you inwardly wretch, but as the gap in proximity closed, it became harder to deny fact.
You took a large gulp of your drink, polishing it off and welcoming the relaxing buzz it provided. Perhaps thirty seconds after the liquid hit the pit of your stomach, he was there, slowly pulling the empty glass from your hand and setting it on a nearby table. He made a point of introducing himself, giving you two options of name to pick from. Peter Quill—which had a very obligatory ring to it—or Star-Lord. You chose the latter as you returned the introduction, even managing to make a clever joke about how you wished you had a cool nickname. He seemed to appreciate this as he tugged you out to dance while promising to come up with something by the end of the night.
A year later, you’d swapped Star-Lord for Peter, who still hadn’t kept his promise, but you didn’t mind. Every time he said your name, you felt a fresh breath of life fill your lungs, and you were sure a nickname wouldn’t have the same sort of effect. But as the days went by, you wondered if he still felt the same. At one time there was a fire between you that refused to burn out. It was there during every instance of passion—in every spot in his ship—and stayed afterwards for the mundane things. You taught him how to cook and do laundry, and in return he showed you how to fly. You danced under stars on foreign planets whose names neither of you knew. Then you’d fall asleep, fighting over the bed sheets, eager to see what the next day would bring.
Now you couldn’t remember the last time you’d danced. Or if you could still fly a ship. Or what it was like to wake up naked and not alone.
Peter was busy, and you understood that. He was a celebrity for hire, and though he claimed to be in it for the money, you knew there was a sense of adventure he couldn’t live without. It was something that a quiet life in your little apartment couldn’t give him…something that you couldn’t give him. You’d accepted that on day one, and maybe that was a stupid thing to do. Being naive seemed like such an easier option.
He finally came home one night, and he greeted you with his standard smile. You returned it as you walked to him, arms stretched out for a hug.
“How was—“
Peter held a finger to your lips, silencing you before moving his hand to the side and giving you a deep kiss. You soaked it in, half enjoying it, and half gauging what was to follow. He had two modes that he slipped into whenever he’d return: fuck or sleep; and you could usually tell by the way he greeted you.
He wasn’t tired—though he certainly looked it—this kiss was lasting too long. There was too much emotion behind it. But it wasn’t fevered, either. You weren’t dipped down with his tongue down your throat, or tossed on the couch with your shirt already on the ground. This was different.
“Shit,” you cursed against his mouth, and he backed away in confusion.
“Sorry?”
“Do you know what I’ve been doing, Peter?” He quirked an eyebrow and shook his head no. “Instead of just kissing you just to kiss you, I’ve been thinking about it. Analyzing it.”
“I don’t really know what to say other than maybe try not doing that?”
You ran a hand down your face and sighed. “Peter, do you love me?” It was abrupt, but necessary.
“Yes.” His response was just as abrupt.
“Things feel different.”
“I know.”
“And you don’t see that as a problem??”
“No. This is how things are supposed to be.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Drax told me.”
You blinked in disbelief. “Drax told you?”
“Yes,” A sheepish look began to wash over Peter’s features.
“Drax?”
He shrugged. “The dude was married. I asked for a little insight. Granted…I regretted it instantly. He went off about war dances and the birds and the bees and—” Peter stopped his tangent to clear his throat, “the point is that you and I have reached a phase where we’ve grown comfortable.”
“That doesn’t seem like the sort of advice Drax would give,” you muttered.
“He didn’t phrase it like that. Hell, I don’t even know if that’s what he was trying to say. I had to grasp at straws a little so maybe I figured this all out on my own? Huh. Damn, I’m good…”
“Focus, Peter!”
“Right, sorry,” he shrugged off his knapsack as he walked to the makeshift stereo he’d rigged up in your living room. It was an eyesore, but he loved it, so you did, too. As he moved, he simultaneously fumbled with his walkman. “I got some new music.”
“How’d you do that?” There was relief in your voice that you tried to suppress. Hearing the same dozen songs over and over again was beginning to gnaw at your brain.
“We passed by Earth…close enough to pick up some radio waves. Rocket managed to record a few of them…the DJ kept calling them oldies,” Peter added, looking rather offended. He shook his head and sighed as he popped the tape in the player. A soft melody began to play. “Do you remember the name of this instrument?” He asked as he approached you with flowing steps that matched the song’s rhythm.
“Um…” you searched for the word. It was in there somewhere. It had to be. Peter had spent too much time trying to teach you about Earth instruments for you to forget—that being said, the names were so odd sounding. They were hard to grasp. “Pine-go?”
“Close,” he laughed, “It’s a piano.”
“Piano! Right.” His fingers were wrapping around your palms, and instinctually, yours did the same.
“1974. Can’t Get It Out Of My Head. It’s by a group called ELO.” This was Peter’s standard introduction. Even if you’d heard the song one hundred times before, he would always remind you of the name, the band, and the Terran year it was made. “Electric Light Orchestra. One of the greatest Earth bands to ever exist.”
“You say that about all your music.”
A new instrument made itself known, adding a gentle complexity to the song. “Because it’s true.”
He led you in what he called a box step, and pulled you closer every time you stepped on his feet so he could count in your ear. One…two…three…four…follow my lead…just like that…one…two…three…four…
It helped, but you were still clumsy by nature. He didn’t seem to mind, though, even telling you once long ago that it was one of the things he loved most about you. One…two…three…four…
Gradually his counting stopped as you grew more comfortable, and he grazed his lips over your jaw. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you replied. He kissed the corner of your mouth before resting his forehead against yours.
It was dark outside, and stars were beginning to appear one by one in the night sky. They glittered and illuminated the moons in a way that managed to take your breath every time you looked up. Even after living where you did for years, their luster never faded in your eyes.
Except for now. Now they all seemed dull in comparison to this present moment in time, where all that mattered was you, Peter, and Earth’s Electric Lights.
