#i just want to rummage around whats left of this fandom pls n thanks

[welovekpopscenarios]

Friction Pt. 2 (Fallout!AU Woozi x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Checking in everyday with Woozi about your broken weapon is nightmare inducing, but is it really as bad as it seems? You never thought the phrase ‘More than meets the eye’ would ever describe someone as perfect as it did for Woozi.

Fandom: SEVENTEEN

Genre: Fluff, angst

Pairing: Woozi x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word count: 4689

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this, I have so much fun writing these AU’s omg. Part 3 will hopefully be out soon enough too, if life doesn’t get in the way. Happy reading as always, everyone! I love you all!! PS that gif actually fucking kills me jihoon pls stop and exit my life you magnificent being

 - PART 1 -

“Hey, thanks for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it,” you said, placing your rucksack down on the wooden floors next to the metal framing of the bed, eyes skimming over the dirty and worn-down mattress and wanting nothing more than to sink into the springs and sleep for eternity despite the condition it was in. It’s better than most of the mattresses you’ve seen, anyway.

Jeonghan sent a warm smile in your direction from his position in the doorway; arms crossed and leaning against the frame while Scoups stood behind him with a large grin set in place and his hands propped proudly on his hips. “It’s no problem, we’re glad you came while you did,” Jeonghan explained, eyes roaming around the small space of the dimly lit room with a frown of slight disappointment – a single dull light hanging precariously from the ceiling and a few odd candles burning on the table. “We needed someone else to man the bar since Boo quit, couldn’t handle the punks that would wander in and cause trouble. Not that I blame him,” he muttered.

“Well, I’ve dealt with scumbags like that all my life. I should be fine,” you reassured, nodding to yourself and brushing the palms of your hands on your pants. That was fine. You could handle a few assholes coming in and demanding free booze and whatnot. You’ve handled worse, a few idiots would be nothing to you. And hey, if it means you get some caps for your weapons repair and a free room to sleep in, who are you to complain?

“Good to hear,” Jeonghan chimed, lips splitting into a perfect smile. “You can get started in the morning. Use the evening to rest up. Showers are in the back, be quick if you want hot water. See you in the morning,” and with that, your new boss turned around and exited the room, brushing past Scoups who grabbed his hand to give a quick squeeze before letting go. He returned his attention to you once more and grinned from ear to ear.

“I’m happy you found somewhere to work! Jeonghan has been looking to fill that position for a while now, but people are too scared to do it.”

You laughed lightly, plonking down onto the mattress and sighing loudly. “Yeah, I’m glad he was offering. I need to have at least 500 caps for Woozi by the end of the week for my rifle.”

“Ah,” Scoups hummed sympathetically, head bobbing in understanding. “Yeah, Woozi can be expensive, but if he says he’ll have that gun fixed, then you can bet by the end of the week it’ll be working better than before.”

You scoffed, eyebrows rising to your hairline as you reclined on the bed. “Sure,” you said dismissively. “I just wish he wasn’t a dick.”

Scoups laughed loudly, a loud rumble emanating from his chest that had you smiling yourself.

“Yeah, Woozi can be a bit…”

“Rude? Annoying? Basically an asshole?” you supplied, making Scoups laugh again.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he giggled. “But he’s actually a really nice guy. You just have to give it time. He’s only defensive to people he doesn’t know, not the kind to handle bullshit for long, you know? He’d rather get into his work as peacefully as possible. Just give him a chance.”

A heavy breath escaped your nose.

“Seeing is believing, Scoups,” he laughed once more, moving to flick your forehead playfully while you grumbled in response. “People like him and I just don’t get along. And the sooner this is over with, the better, so I don’t have to talk to him anymore.”

“Alright, your call,” he smirked, walking backwards to the doorway while his eyes glinted mischievously with the candle light. “But something tells me that you’ll feel differently about him when you get your rifle back. I have to get back to Shownu, he’s been on security on his own for a while now. Night, Y/N.”

The door was closed before you could say anything, swinging shut and leaving you in the solitude of your tiny room, deep within your thoughts and exhaustion. What the hell did he mean by that? Woozi was insufferable, the only way you could feel differently about him would be the happiness you feel at him fixing your rifle and being done with him. What Scoups said just didn’t make sense.

No matter, you’ll be too deep in work the next few days to even think about that dickhead anyway.

But as your eyes fluttered shut and blissful rest finally caught up to you, the last thing you remembered thinking about was the pretty curve of his dark eyes as he stared at you with the lightest of reds dusting his oil splattered cheeks.

The beginnings of the day sounded in your ears as sunlight streamed in through the streaky windows onto your sleeping face, groaning at the intrusion upon your peaceful sleep and turning over in your position to cover your face. It felt like you had only gotten five minutes of sleep, and every muscle in your body was screaming in agony at the slightest of movements, your body well worn out after your trek to Diamond City and finally catching up to you in the most painful of ways.

You allowed yourself a few moments to rest while you thought over your tasks for the day: take a shower, have Jackson show you how to work the bar and around the Dugout Inn, and visit Woozi for updates on your rifle. The last one made you scream briefly into your lumpy pillow, already feeling agitation spike through you at having to interact in any way with Woozi once more.

Oh, how he made your blood boil yesterday. Even Scoups seemed hesitant to talk to you once he saw you in the Dugout Inn for fear of you biting his head off, never seeing anyone so fired up after talking to Woozi. The fact that you have to see him nearly every day for information on your gun was enough to make you fit to punch someone – preferably him and his smirk. A smirk that made heat rise to your face in ways you couldn’t explain, and it only further added to your torment that was Woozi.

Best not to dwell on it, you thought, as you heaved your body off of the mattress and towards the showers. If you did, you were positive you’d go as crazy as the stragglers living deep in the wasteland, and losing your mind was not something you needed.

Definitely not over someone like him.

Looking up at the still bright sun, you reasoned you still have a good portion of the evening left to enjoy after spending the day with Jackson at the bar. He was a…flamboyant character, to say the least, but he was nothing but kind, and made you laugh harder than you had in a long time, something that was greatly appreciated. But now that you were finished, it was time to complete the one task you were dreading – facing Woozi. You could already feel angry fire flooding your veins at the prospect.

Eying the metal sign in the distance, you began to walk through the masses, dodging and weaving through people and stalls alike until in what felt like the shortest time ever you were standing in front of his booth, watching as the man himself searched through a large box of tools, bent over and completely oblivious to your presence.

You watched him for a moment, not in any way admiring the way his cargos hugged his behind as he was bent over – no way in hell­ – and waited for him to turn around and notice you, but he never did. He just continued to rummage noisily through the box of tools, off in his own world. Interesting.

“Hey,” you greeted, a tad louder than someone normally would, and smirked with sadistic glee as he gave a yelp and shot up straight, banging his head on the shelf above him in the process. He turned around quickly, eyes wide and zipping throughout the space of the booth before landing on you, promptly narrowing into slits as anger washed over his visage.

“What the hell?!” he bellowed, throwing a pair of pliers heavily on top of his workbench with a loud thunk. His chest was heaving with supressed rage, trying not to show that you scared him more than he’d like to admit, fists and jaw clenched tightly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Saying hello,” was your nonchalant reply, sending a shrug and a lazy smirk his way as your eyes roamed his stall.

“Who the fuck says hello like that?” he retorted, taking a seat at his workbench and distracting himself with whatever tools he had sitting on top of the counter.

“Normal people,” you droned. “Not my fault you got as spooked as a cat facing a Radscorpion.”

He scoffed in response, seemingly opting to ignore your presence now that his pride was wounded. Boo hoo.

You stood in silence, eyes following his slim fingers as they toyed with the pliers, taking great amusement in the way his eyes would dart to you every so often only to move back to what was in front of him. Eventually, he cracked.

“Is there a reason why you’re taking up space in my workshop?”

“Yeah. My gun,” you said simply.

He made a tutting noise. “It isn’t done. So leave.”

“I wanted an update on it,” you requested, and his head turned to give you a fake, tight lipped smile.

“Ok sure! Here’s the update – it isn’t done. So, you can leave now!” Sarcasm dripped from his wicked tongue like raindrops on a window pane, and immediately every single one of your sense became alight with fury – red hot fire prickling at your skin and leaving you itching to move.

“You’re hilarious. A real comedian. I’m surprised you aren’t doing shows on the radio or at the Dugout Inn. You’d really liven up the place with your sunny personality, you know?” Your voice couldn’t have had less emotion in it, the tone similar to that of a Protectrons – equally as lifeless and dull.

“I know, I’ve been told. But I can’t be the only capable person in this city. Too much weight on my shoulders, you get me? That’s why I leave the jokes to DK and Bambam. They have the time for it,” he boasted sarcastically, a wry smile set on his face. A sharp exhale left your nose in disbelief, eyes rolling upwards.

“Interesting, really. You should tell me all about some other time. But right now I just want to hear about my rifle.”

Woozi grimaced, scowling at you before inclining his head towards a spare stool in the corner of his shop.

You rose a brow, not expecting Woozi to invite you to sit with him, but another impatient glare from him had you moving to grab the stool, positioning it at one end of his workbench and trying to maintain a reasonable distance away from him. A distance that wouldn’t allow him easy access to shoving his pliers through your eye or where you could choke him out without mercy.

“I took another look at it this morning. The trigger was the easiest thing to fix, took me no time to get it done. The barrel is going to be trickier. If it was just smashed or bent at the head, it would be pretty easy to reshape,” he explained, only looking up from the desk to shoot you a dirty look. “But your dumb ass had to completely smash it from where it’s connected to the base of the gun. Makes shit of the rest of the gun.”

“But, you can fix it, right? I mean, you said you were good, and I heard you were from plenty of others. I trust you with this,” you admitted quietly, picking at your nails instead of gazing at him, missing how his eyes grow just that bit wider and brightest of pink blooms on his cheeks, just visible under the grime coating his skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” he went for an air of indifference, shrugging his shoulders momentarily until they dropped back down. “I can fix it. It’ll be a bitch, but it’ll be done. Don’t worry.”

You chewed on your lip, biting at the dry and cracked skin as you were deep in thought, brows furrowed, silent except for the tapping of your foot on the ground. Woozi watched you from the corner of his eye, a near invisible smile playing at his lips as he watched you scowl into space.

“Stop thinking so hard or you’ll hurt yourself,” he joked. “I can practically hear it.”

You tsked, quick to flash that scowl at him, but then in softened out into a much more serene and thoughtful expression, and he hates the weird twist his tummy makes when he sees it.

“I…thank you, Woozi,” you finish, and it’s sincere. He knows it. And that twist in his tummy gets worse with how light and youthful your voice sounded just then. He scratches at his cheek, disregarding the awful heat he feels beneath the pads of his fingers and shrugs once more.

“I’m getting paid to do this, Princess. It really is no problem to me at the end of the day when I’m relaxing with a pocket full of caps,” the glare returns to your face once more and he thanks the gods for the reprieve on his poor stomach. “I heard you’re working at the Inn. Better get back to it, Jeonghan and Jackson will need help with the bar once the rowdier customers come in.”

You give a huff of annoyance, standing up quickly and adjusting your shirt, mumbling a half-hearted ‘whatever, see you tomorrow’, and then you were leaving Woozi alone again in the workshop.

A giggle escapes his lips, one of disbelief and weird amusement. You were a strange one, but one who could give back as much as he gave. It certainly was interesting, to say the least, and he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy the banter occurring between the two of you.

He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t prefer how much softer your face looked when it wasn’t scowling.

The next time you visited Woozi, you were surprised to not see the bitter little man sitting alone, hunched over whatever creation he had and cooing ‘my precious’ over the metals of the weapons and shaking like a wet rat. Instead, he was chatting to a rather…lively man.

“Hoshi, go away. I’m busy,” he mumbled, but seemed unbothered by the grinning man sat at his side and talking animatedly about some woman who tried to fight him in his clothing stall. Despite Woozi’s words, he seemed to be nodding along occasionally to the man’s story, clearly listening to everything he was saying while he tinkered away as usual.

“It was so funny! She raised her fists to me and tried to punch me out while Jimin tried to hold her back. Nearly took an elbow to the eye for it, too! She was screaming about us not having the latest fashion, or something like that,” he laughed, a whimsical giggle echoing throughout Woozi’s workshop. Woozi himself smirked and gave a light laugh of astonishment.

“Latest fashion? As if they’re making anything new? You don’t get the latest fashion anymore. Girly must’ve been off her rockers.”

“Oh, for sure! She nearly clawed at my face until Minghao threw her out, the guards took care of the rest then. Ah, I wish you could have seen it, Ji,” he mused, a strange fond smile gracing his lips. “You would’ve had a good laugh with the things she was spewing- oh, hello!”

You gave a start when you realised the man sitting with Woozi saw you and addressed you, eyes nearly invisible with how they smiled at you. You returned the grin, albeit uncertainly, aware of Woozi’s heavy gaze on you paired with the man’s questioning one. “Hello,” you greeted, hands tucked into the pocket of your slacks.

“Oh, so you can actually greet people normally? Wow, crazy,” Woozi commented, crossing his arms and leaning against the workbench. Your neutral visage morphed into a scowl, as if automatically, and you rolled your eyes when Woozi’s smirk got wider.

“I greeted you normally yesterday,” you replied haughtily. “You just got scared and crapped your pants. As I said, not my fault. How’s the head after you nearly blew a hole through the shelf from the fright?”

The man with the unique eyes laughed loudly, a full set of teeth on display as he grinned so widely you were certain his face would crack in half. He shoved playfully at Woozi’s side, paying no heed in the venomous glare burning holes into the side of his face.

“You scared Woozi? That’s amazing! You gotta tell me how to do it sometime, I never catch him. I’m Soonyoung, but you can call me Hoshi!” He held out a hand for you to shake, your arm nearly being ripped out of its socket once you took it from the overzealous force of his handshake, jostling your poor body around in good fun.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you, Hoshi,” you smiled, wondering in the back of your mind how someone as sweet and sugary as Hoshi could ever talk to someone as bitter and annoying as Woozi.

“Likewise! So, getting something repaired? Ah, you’ve come to the best place! Woozi’s the best in the Commonwealth!” he bragged, slinging an arm around Woozi’s shoulders and pulling his reluctant body in close for a side hug. Woozi’s face contorted into a face of displeasure, grumbling as he tried to remove Hoshi’s vicelike grip from around his neck. You chuckled at the sight, a lopsided grin making its way onto your face at the unusual sight.

“I’ll believe when I see it. I’m sorry if I was interrupting something…” you trailed off, shifting your gaze between the two men.

“No, you weren’t! Come sit!” Hoshi he exclaimed, grabbing the nearest box and pulling it over so you could sit on the other side of Hoshi. “Are you new here?”

“I am. I just came to get my rifle repaired,” you looked to Woozi who quickly avoided your gaze. “I’m staying and working at the Dugout Inn for now.”

“Ah, so Jeonghannie finally found someone to fill up that spot? Good luck! I heard it’s a tough job.”

“If her bite is anything like her bark, then she should be ok,” Woozi commented, his fingers stalling from where they fidgeted atop the counter momentarily as he seemed to register what he just said. Your eyebrows crawled their way up your forehead to your hairline, a strange heat bursting through your body that had you fighting a weird grin at the backwards compliment.

Hoshi’s head whipped between the both of you, a dazed look upon his face as his brain attempted to keep up with the conversation, when suddenly, something clicked in his happy little noggin, and his lips that were once hanging open in confusion now smoothed into a devious smirk, his eyes shining brighter with mischief and evil glee than any blaze produced by a nuke. You saw Woozi still, body staying as stiff as a board, glaring so darkly at Hoshi that you were sure the boy was bound to wilt and crumble underneath the weight of his gaze, but Hoshi was undeterred, simply turning to face you and giving you a smile too sweet to be true.

“Do you have to go back to the Dugout right now?” he asked, manoeuvring around in his seat away from the pair of pliers Woozi was subtly digging into his back. You shook your head no.

“I don’t have to start my shift until a few hours.”

That saccharine smile of his got even wider, eyes smiling along with it as he looked absolutely tickled pink.

“Perfect,” he giggled, raising his eyebrows playfully at a dour looking Woozi who refused to acknowledge either of the other occupants currently in his workshop. “We can use this as an excuse to get to know you better. So, tell me about yourself!”

“Wait,” Hoshi breathed, hunched over in his seat as he tried to get a rein on his poorly contained giggles, face red and sore from grinning so hard. “The guy let you go, because you told him the fairies needed help with planting mutfruit? And he believed you?”

You chuckled amiably, your own face as bright as Hoshi’s. “Yeah! He said that he can’t get in the way of the fairies, so he put his gun away and pushed me away, told me to hurry. He was completely insane!”

“Wow! What an idiot!” Hoshi yelled, and the two of you roared with laughter. Woozi looked on with a small fond smile on his face, his own quiet giggles slipping past his lips, and looking happier and livelier than you think you’ve ever seen since you met him. And that didn’t help anything. At all. Because he looked so incredibly nice when he was smiling and laughing and joking with Hoshi and even yourself a few times, the dickish exterior of his slowly chipping away piece by piece and gradually revealing what a perfect human being he was capable of being when he wasn’t snarking at you. And you hated how he made those twists in your stomach turn into complete hurricanes, your heart being knocked around in your chest with the turbulence in your tummy.

Laughter dying down, you glanced up at the sky and your lips tugged downwards in a frown. Evening had fallen upon the city. You’d need to start work now. Sighing in dismay, you heaved your body off the box and shook your legs to relieve yourself of the numb and stiffness that had gathered.

“I should get going. Jeonghan’ll be looking for me, and I don’t wanna leave Jackson handling the bar on his own for too long,” you explained, fingers pulling your jacket tighter around your form against the cold evening chill. Hoshi opened his mouth to say something, but Woozi surprisingly beat him to it.

“Will you be back again tomorrow?” he questioned, his dark eyes flitting around you but never on you for too long. You paused in your movements, having not expected the question, and your brain rushed to come up with some sort of intelligent answer, when really it was simple. You would. Definitely.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumbled, scratching embarrassingly at the back of your neck and shuffling on your feet. “I will. Be back. Tomorrow.” Woozi bit at the corner of his lip, trying his hardest not to punch the teasing smile on Hoshi’s face.

“Uh, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he replied awkwardly, and Hoshi had to keep from smashing his head against the wall to escape the awkwardness. “Back to annoy me some more,” he teased, but it was weak and you knew it, and that damned tornado was nearly ripping through your abdomen at this point.

“Yeah, sure. Uhm, later,” you turned and walked away from the booth, sending a quick wave over your shoulder at the two of them in the booth, and then you were disappearing in the crowd.

Woozi stared until you were out of sight, and then his eyes were focused on Hoshi’s stupid smug face. He huffed, crossing his arms on the worktop and staring straight ahead at the dull wall.

“Shut up.”

“I never said anything,” Hoshi sang, leaning irritatingly close to Woozi and invading his personal space unbearably. “But, if I were to say something, it’d be why didn’t you tell your best friend you were in love sooner?”

Woozi stuttered, disbelief etched in his features as he shoved Hoshi away roughly, said boy losing his balance and nearly face planting into the floor.

“In love?!” he exclaimed, scoffing one too many times to be considered normal, and his facing growing increasingly redder like a Nuka-Cola cap. He shook his head furiously, throwing his tools messily back into their places in the box and looking anywhere but Hoshi. No. He was not in love. Definitely not. He wasn’t��anything. He thinks.

“Ah, so you’re not in love, you’re in lust,” Hoshi supplies.

Maybe. “No, I’m really not, Soonyoung.” Lies. You like the outside and want to crack her open to see what’s on the inside. Even deeper than lust, you moron. Funny, he could almost hear you when that invasive thought appeared in his mind.

“But you want something, don’t you?”

“Hoshi, I will punch you if you don’t shut up right now,” Woozi threatened, his glare strong enough to burn, and even Hoshi seemed to think over whatever taunts he was about to spew on Woozi.

“But you clearly feel something about her if you’re acting this weird! I’ve never seen you laugh at anyone as much as you did with her! It’s clearly love, why are you denying this?!”

“I’m not in love, Hoshi. And even if I did, hypothetically, feel something for her – which, I don’t, by the way – nothing would ever happen. She hates me, I hate her” Woozi chose to ignore the scoff Hoshi made at that, “and we’re at each other’s throats whenever we’re together. So, even if I did, hypothetically, try something, what am I supposed to do to make her like me…hypothetically?”

Woozi felt pathetic, because try as he might, he really cannot brush aside the erratic and annoying beating of his heart, sounding like a war drum in his chest whenever your eyes made contact with his, or how your voice sounded just that little bit easier on the ears than others, or even how your fiery spirit set ablaze his own, his need to impress coming out stronger than ever but not for contemptuous reasons.

“Just be yourself,” Hoshi advised, and Woozi gave a pitiful grimace, taking a seat and staring somewhat wistfully at his boots.

“’Myself’ is not exactly the most appealing thing, Hoshi,” he mumbled, distractedly picking at loose skin hanging around his calloused fingers. He started when Hoshi placed a hand on his shoulder, the touch soft and warm like a calm summer’s day, and looked up to see Hoshi’s friendly smile and kind eyes.

“Yes, you are. You are amazing, Jihoon. You are talented, funny, kind, amazing, everything in the book. And we all love you. Look at all your friends! We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t see past that hard shell of yours to see the wonderful person hiding underneath. So, stop moping, give a smile every once in a while, and ask them out. I know you can do it!” he beamed, and Woozi relaxed infinitely, Hoshi’s kind words giving him that boost he hadn’t known he needed.

Nodding his head slightly, he mulled over Hoshi’s words. “Thank you, Soonyoung. Really,” he rubbed the back of his neck out of awkwardness, but Hoshi simply chuckled sweetly.

“Never a problem. But seriously, ask them on a date. Or at least talk to them. Something tells me lady luck may be on your side. Just try!”

Woozi snorted in amusement. Ok, he figures he could smile a bit more. And snap a bit less. Maybe a lot less. Because after today’s conversation, he saw you really weren’t that bad. You were…nice. But a different kind of nice. Not a Jaebum kind of nice, where they have a conversation here and there whenever they pass each other and just talk about whatever’s going on. You were nice in a way he couldn’t comprehend, but he needed more of it like it was a drug you were supplying. And he knows if you want something done right, you better do it yourself. Feeling better, albeit a little nervous, he sat up straighter and grinned slightly at Hoshi.

“Ok, maybe I will.”

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [9/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: some of the guardians take off in search of nebula, peter lives in the deep canyon of denial, and gamora reflects on how her life has changed since becoming a guardian.

word count: 4310 | total word count: 118k

a/n: this entire fic is just me going “peter pls” tbh

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

The drive back to campus was...tense, to say the least. Not because they were fighting again, but because Peter could tell Gamora had trapped herself in her own mind, running over dozens upon dozens of ideas of what Nebula was planning on doing, and what they had to do in response.

The radio was playing the traffic report, occasionally telling them of an accident far off from their route home, and the light show had long ended, now that it was approximately 2:30 in the morning. It was just the droning sound of a graveyard-shift radio host and the occasional honk of an obnoxious cab driver that kept them company.

Although Peter knew his mind needed to be focused on the mission at hand (or at the very least, his driving), he couldn’t help but find himself mentally wandering back to two hours ago, when he and Gamora had nearly kissed. It was different than their first near-kiss on Knowhere, the one that had resulted in a knife to his jugular. The look on Gamora’s face, as if she’d experienced some epiphany that needed a conclusion right at that very moment - and they had been so close! Now, she couldn’t be further away despite being seated next to him, looking off into the distance, her brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, probably calculating ten different scenarios in her head at once, and not at all thinking about what had transpired before.

“Gamora?” he said, voice soft. She nodded for him to continue, never turning or making a sound. “I don’t know what your exact plan is yet - if you have one - but I think it would be best if some of us stay on Terra. It’ll be especially bad if Earth gets another intergalactic threat and we’re all away.”

“I’ll take Mantis and Drax,” she replied, her voice distant. “It’ll help us subdue Nebula in two different ways, if it comes to that. I don’t want her getting violent around Rocket or Groot, and Yondu’s arrow will be of little use in threatening her, considering what happened last time.”

“Makes sense.” They fell silent again, as if they had nothing more to say to each other, despite having so much left to talk about. It was going to be a long trip back.

______

The SHIELD agent at the gate had been confused upon seeing them, as they weren’t expected back until noon. However, Gamora had called ahead, asking Rocket to get Groot to fake an illness in case security called the Milano to check on their story. After that, he waved them through with a disinterested yawn.

They boarded the ship ten minutes later and were greeted by the other Guardians, who were whispering frantically to one another about what to do. After hearing Gamora’s plan for splitting up, they came to a consensus (after some minor protesting from Rocket) and moved to pack their things.

Peter volunteered to help Mantis with her stuff, knowing she often deliberated too long on what to take. The moment her bedroom door was closed, he felt odd. It was the first time he’d been fully out of Gamora’s presence in three days. “How was the trip, Peter?” she asked softly as they began rummaging through her weapons storage unit. “I saw the photos on social media. You looked very happy.”

“It was fun,” he said with a shrug, and it had been, if not confusing in the end. “I think Gamora and I, we have a better understanding of each other now.”

“That is good. You both make very good team leaders.” Mantis smiled brightly as she pulled out a set of knives, one that had been gifted to her by Gamora not long after she’d been recruited.

Peter wisely chose not to say anything about the “moment” they had. Maybe he had built it up more than it really was, and Gamora had already left it behind in their hotel, never to be addressed again. It didn’t need to be awkward, right? It just didn’t.

He decided to steer the conversation elsewhere before Mantis got a little too close for comfort, asking her whether Yondu had behaved (he hadn’t), whether Groot had been a good kid (he had), and if the weekend had been relatively calm, aside from the whole Nebula-going-off-planet thing (it hadn’t. Apparently Peter Parker had attracted some unwanted attention. Honestly, how was he not the problematic Peter at this school?). They were interrupted not ten minutes later by a loud clanging noise at the loading deck. The team scrambled outside, guns and blades ready, only to immediately cower and drop everything.

Director Fury stood there, feet shoulder-width apart in his signature power stance, hands clasped behind his back, trenchcoat flapping in the wind as always. Peter briefly had the crazy idea to ask the Director if he had any special tricks for looking extra dramatic in a longcoat, because his sometimes got trapped around his ankles when he danced. “Going somewhere?”

“Just cleaning up, Director,” Peter said cheerily, stepping forward. “You scared us.”

“Groot doesn’t look sick,” Fury said, gesturing at the little one, who was sitting on Gamora’s shoulder and chewing on what looked like a nail file in his tiny hand. “So why are you two back so soon? Your little love trip go sour?”

“My sister has gone missing, sir,” Gamora confessed, her defensive stance slacking as the fight left her body. “She was spotted near the Kyln, where she had murdered several prisoners in an attempt to find us, back when she was still with Ronan. I suspect she’s searching for Thanos, and we need to retrieve her but have no way of doing so.”

Fury sighed the sigh of a man who spent a lot more time wrangling teenagers than he’d like to. “I’ve got you a ship. It’s not the Milano, but it’ll do. Who’s going? You need permission forms to get out of your classes, and I’ll sign ’em.”

Peter stared. “Is that a thing here? I have never heard that before in my life.”

“Just tell me who’s going, Quill, before I change my mind,” Fury barked.

“Myself, Mantis, and Drax,” Gamora said quickly, shooting Peter an annoyed look. “Thank you, Director, I appreciate it.”

Fury waved a hand. “Alright, you three, let’s get going. Say your goodbyes, it could take awhile before you come back.”

Groot, predictably, became very distressed, clinging onto Gamora’s hair and letting out a high pitched whine, not unlike a puppy whose owner was leaving for work. Realizing that Fury was watching, Gamora set Groot down on Rocket’s shoulder and reached to wrap her arms around Peter’s waist, a hesitant stiffness in her arms that she hoped the Director wouldn’t notice.

“We’ll call to check in every day,” she promised, her hand moving to cup his jaw. “I’ll see you soon, Star-Lord.”

Even Rocket couldn’t be bothered to make a gagging noise, as he was staring at the others with an oddly forlorn expression. Peter pulled Gamora in closer, wondering if he could possibly convey every confusing thing he had been thinking and feeling about her in their embrace. She kissed him, a much more prolonged kiss than the one in Central Park, but still devoid of the emotional weight of mere hours ago. Somehow, it made Peter feel worse about the whole situation.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Peter said jokingly, finally letting her go. His view of her walking away to stand near Fury was obscured by Mantis practically jumping into his arms. “Whoa, hey. You be careful, Mantis, okay? You’re a badass, but you’ve never been out that far. Let the others take point on this one.”

Drax wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, murmuring something in his language that he had told them previously was his people’s blessing of protection. Peter wanted to learn it so he could say it back, but there were too many consonants and not enough tongue dexterity.

After the three passed around the other Guardians, saying their goodbyes, Fury finally managed to direct them off the Milano, disappearing into the darkness.

“That was quite a show you put on jus’ now,” Yondu commented as they somberly settled in at the communal table. “Almost looked legitimate.”

“Is that really what we’re talking about right now?” Peter kicked his feet up, staring at his uneven shoelaces so he’d have something to fixate on before his brain took him further into a downward spiral. “You’ve got weird priorities, Yondu.”

“You weren’t here for all the panic earlier, Quill,” Rocket said. His voice sounded oddly affected. “Might need something less heavy to talk about while they’re gone.”

“I am Groot,” Groot said sadly, hopping onto Peter’s lap and snuggling into his belly, tiny fingers digging into Peter’s waist. “I am Groot.”

“Stop calling her mom,” Rocket said, though it was half-hearted. “Of course Quill misses her, the whole d’ast galaxy can probably see his crush from miles away.”

“I just came here to finally get some rest and I feel so attacked,” Peter said, standing up (but not before carefully setting Groot back onto the table). “I’m going to bed. Come find me when you wanna talk about something other than me and Gamora, okay?”

______

The whole campus woke up to a rather sober image of the Guardians. The team, though often split up during missions, were never fully separated the way they were now, and it was evident. Peter, Yondu, Rocket, and Groot, all varying types of chipper, loud personalities, seemed disconnected in class. The professors took pity on them and left them alone for the most part, but the students seemed especially sympathetic towards Peter, who, in their eyes, was currently without his sister and his girlfriend.

“If you need some company, you’re welcome to join us, Peter,” Steve said in that ever-so-gentle voice of his, a stark contrast to his authoritative Captain America voice. “All of you.”

“Might take you up on that offer,” Peter said with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Sitting with the Avengers at lunch seemed pretty surreal. The other Guardians had declined in favour of going back to mope on the Milano, so Peter was left alone with Steve’s usual crew of Barnes, Wilson, and Romanoff. At the next table over, he could see Tony with Rhodey, Pepper, Janet, and Parker, who was being watched by a table of his usual admirers. For a supposed “nerd”, Parker has some game, Peter thought.

“I guess you guys haven’t really been this far apart before,” Sam said when Peter first sat down.

“Sam - ”

“No, Steve, don’t try to sugarcoat it. Peter might wanna talk it out,” Sam said, waving a carrot stick at Cap. “I mean, let’s be real. We Avengers? We have fights every damn day. The Defenders are constantly at odds, but you Guardians have this real family bond going on, and I think that’s cool. But I bet it makes it harder to be away from each other.”

“I’m worried about my sister,” Peter said, twisting his juice bottle around in his hand aimlessly. “She’s so...gentle, y’know? And I hate to think what she’ll witness out there if Nebula’s on a revenge rampage.”

“She’s a good kid,” Sam nodded. “But she’s got good company right now, yeah?”

“Gamora’s been taking Mantis under her wing,” Natasha said. “I think they’ll be okay, Quill. Don’t worry.”

He smiled. “Thanks, guys. I know we’ve kinda been keeping our teams mostly separate, but it means a lot to know that we’ve got each other’s backs.” Biting at his lip, he considered whether to play up the angle a little more. “At least I got a really nice weekend in with Gamora before we had to get separated.”

“Jan showed me some of the photos. You guys look real swell together,” Steve said, shooting an encouraging smile back. “Me and Peggy have some competition.”

“Nah,” Peter said, waving a hand. “You guys got that whole epic war love story thing that spans decades.”

“Decades in which I was on ice, and Peggy technically died while I was gone,” Steve reminded him. “We got back together when she came back, but we’ve probably only been dating for about ten months.”

“How long have you and Gamora been together again?” Natasha said, blinking at him innocently, though Peter could tell she was thinking about something. What, he wasn’t sure.

“Five months by the time she gets back,” he sighed. “At least, I can hope they won’t be gone any longer than that. I wanna do something special for our six-month, even though I know she’s not super into anniversaries.”

“Did you do anything for the other anniversaries?” Natasha was leaning a bit closer now, and the others looked slightly uncomfortable.

“I got her this modified multi-tool. Don’t think she actually uses it, but I know she keeps it on her as like, a keepsake,” Peter said, crossing his fingers this wasn’t something Natasha had tested on Gamora before. He should probably update her on the fake stories they had to spread. “Like I said, anniversaries aren’t really that important to her.”

“What’s it like, dating someone like Gamora?” Peter almost jumped at the sound of Barnes’s monotonous voice, which always sounded partially confrontational, and partially sad. No one could blame him for either, not after what he’d been through. It was then that Peter also remembered Barnes had a giant crush on Natasha, and knew what he was really asking.

“It’s honestly really great,” he said. He moved to unwrap his sandwich and rearrange his lunch tray, in an attempt to distract himself from the truth and the lies of his own words. “I mean, Gamora’s my best friend too, which I think is super important in relationships, y’know? And, uh, she’s this, powerful badass who can also be a really warm, fun person. It’s like, she slays a bunch of monsters with her Godslayer, and then she cuddles me when we’re watching movies together. It’s super awesome.” He looked up to see all of them watching him even more carefully than before. “I think everyone expects her to be as authoritative and type-A in relationships as she is in battle, but it’s not like that. She’s affectionate, and sweet, and…” Peter trailed off with a shrug. “She’s basically the most important person in my life.”

“Wow,” Steve chuckled. “I’m really happy for you, Peter. You two deserve a win.”

“Thanks,” Peter said. There was a warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before - where had all those words come from? “So, how about you and Carter? Haven’t really spent much time around her but I’ve heard the old stories, and I’m pretty sure every girl on campus I know worships her, so she must be pretty awesome.”

Sam and Bucky groaned in sync. “Oh, don’t get him started,” Sam laughed, playfully flicking a grape at Steve’s head. Peter chuckled at the sight, grateful to be able to relax for the first time since she’d - they’d - left.

______

Three agonizingly long days passed before the three of them had gotten remotely close to the Kyln. It was weird, being on a ship that wasn’t theirs, with most of their team back on Terra. Gamora was mostly in charge of piloting the ship, as Drax and Mantis had little experience in comparison, and it was honestly quite lonely. She had grown so used to bickering, to the sounds of Rocket’s tools and Peter’s music and Groot’s little voice, that the casual, low-key chatter that Drax and Mantis engaged in felt all wrong.

She knew Drax and Mantis were close, having bonded quickly on Ego’s planet, and made it clear they had no romantic feelings towards each other, but their platonic love for each other was strong. Drax was something of a second brother to Mantis, insistent on protecting her and sparing her from the uglier parts of their battles. Gamora wondered if Mantis secretly disliked that both he and Peter kept her away from the real fight, if she wanted to make those decisions for herself. It was why she and Nebula had opted to train Mantis more, in hopes she would be strong enough to properly be alongside them.

If one had asked Gamora two years ago what her idea of family was like, she would have given a condescending laugh and a shake of her head. Her family was long gone, dead, killed without mercy at the hands of a man who referred to himself as her father. Now, she had what she would have seen as trivial problems - how to keep Groot from falling into the garbage disposal, how to stop Rocket from blowing everything up. What the best way to train Mantis was, how to teach Drax to be more tactful in how he treated other people. How to convince Yondu to properly engage in school, how to make Peter more responsible. All for her newfound family.

As for her actual family, her sister, she was a different story altogether. They approached the cluster of small rock settlements outside the Kyln, and she felt a sense of dread, then a sense of guilt. How could she feel so reluctant to save Nebula? She had to remind herself constantly that Nebula was not yet a lost cause, that she was worth going after. Gamora couldn’t abandon her when she clearly had issues she still needed to work through, issues that needed the strong support system they had built for themselves with the Guardians.

“We should send out a message, and see if any of them know where she is,” Mantis suggested.

“I doubt they will answer honestly. Perhaps we should just land and intimidate them into answering us,” Drax said. He looked like he was itching for a fight.

“Message first, intimidate later,” Gamora allowed. “Mantis? You want to do it?”

Five hours later, and Gamora was honestly bored. They had transmitted a message down to the Nova station after deliberating over their word choice for an hour (Drax didn't think they expressed the urgency of Nebula’s destructive potential enough, Gamora thought it was unnecessary to threaten to decapitate them if they didn’t answer), and there had been no response so far. Instead, they hovered around the cluster like they had nothing better to do.

The three of them decided it would be a good time to catch up on schoolwork, despite it being hard to concentrate. It was getting increasingly difficult to think at all, when they were floating in the middle of nowhere, on a ship that was too sleek and shiny to feel like home, with no idea of what was to come. Gamora considered when would be too early to tentatively message Peter and ask him to follow with the rest of their team. They had given the Nova station until midnight to respond, but what if they landed and found that Nebula had already left? It was highly likely, what with her ability to sneak in and out of locations with ease. The trail could have already gone cold before they’d left Terra.

Ding.

“It’s mine,” Gamora said when Drax and Mantis looked up. “I’ll take it into my room.”

She retreated to her bunk with her holo-tab, settling in on the bed that was too comfortable, lacking in Peter’s glow-in-the-dark stickers or the suspicious engine oil smell of the Milano to keep her company. Gamora had long muted the girls’ chat group since it was an endless string of chatter, though she did occasionally pop in to check on them. Her other most used conversation thread as of late was Peter.

Peter: hey just a warning the avengers asked me some stuff about you today

Peter: i said the terran multi-tool i gave you was an anniversary gift

Peter: i also said you like to cuddle

Peter: i’d say sorry but both are kind of true

She couldn’t help but snort in laughter, reading the messages in Peter’s voice in her head. Things had been a little tense between them since their dance in the hotel room, but if anyone was going to lighten up the mood, it was him.

Gamora: i’ll accept the first and deny the second

Gamora: mantis has already run out of twizzlers. we’ve only been gone for three days

She glanced around for a moment, wondering if she should grab her homework and bring it back to her bunk. Then again, her brain was still weighing heavily on everything that was going on with Nebula - even her stomach was a little queasy - so she probably wouldn’t be as productive as she’d like. Surprisingly, Peter responded about thirty seconds later.

Peter: WHAT

Peter: i packed her like two whole bags plus a package of nibs??

Peter: i did that as a JOKE

Peter: i’m taking her to a dentist when you guys get back

Gamora felt like she was going crazy, laughing to herself so hard that she was curled up on her side, clutching at her stomach. She imagined that if Drax and Mantis could hear, they’d probably think something was wrong.

Peter: so any luck?

Gamora: we sent a message to the nova station four hours ago and nothing. we’ll land at midnight if we still get no response

Peter: aw that sucks. i’d tell you to be careful but it’s kind of an unspoken thing at this point :p

Peter: btw if you’re looking for something to do, i put a few movies on mantis’s holo. stuff you’ve already seen though

Gamora: that’ll be helpful, we’re already quite bored. have you been watching anything new?

Peter: had a couple in mind but i thought i’d save it for when you get back

Peter: i like that we’ve got some traditions going on :)

Her laughter had come to a stop as she rested her head on her pillow, staring at the last two messages with a sort of awe. He’d said it before about their game of 20 Questions, how it was something that brought them closer, but there was something touching about how Peter would nonchalantly mention he was saving something so he could specifically share it with her. Before, it had been movies he’d seen as a child, movies he’d already watched on the recommendation of other Terran students who were excited to tell Peter about new things in their culture. But now it was a simple pleasure he denied himself because he wanted her to be a part of it, too.

It was times like this where Gamora wished she remembered things about her people, her home, to share as well. Drax still had such fond memories of his family, despite having lost them in such a brutal manner. Rocket and Yondu had rather traumatizing origins, so neither had a home to speak of. But she and Mantis were taken when they were young, so unsure of what they came from and who they could have been. And now, everyone was starting to pick up mannerisms and habits from Peter, not just because they were on his home planet, but because he soaked up every moment of his culture and wanted the others to experience it with him.

Gamora: i enjoy it too.

______

As the days passed, the Guardians that remained at the Academy were given less and less leeway. It wasn’t that people didn’t feel sorry for them, it was that there was only so much sympathy to give. The others had straightened up a little, gotten back into their typical ways, but Peter continued feeling oddly morose. They’d been gone for a week and a half now, having found only dead bodies at the Nova post and stopped over at the Kyln to find more dead bodies and traumatized witnesses, and were now wondering, reluctantly, if they should come back.

The messages, though light-hearted at first, became more emotionally distant as time went on. Even Mantis, who usually had something chipper to say whenever she checked in with Peter, didn’t sound very optimistic in her last correspondence. Drax was down to very short sentences or even one to two-word answers, and Gamora…

She sounded tired. Exhausted of all her options, of where Nebula was and if she was, dare they say it, alive. Peter wanted to be there for her, but he knew that splitting them up was the smartest thing to do. If both leaders of the team were off-planet, things would get chaotic, fast.

He rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He’d taken to holing himself up in his dorm room more than usual, while the others practically lived on the Milano, with Rocket distracting himself with repairs, and Groot keeping him company as always. He knew Yondu especially would tease him about missing Gamora, but it was true. As much as he wanted to lie and say he missed Mantis most, he just didn’t. Gamora was a steady hand, a welcome presence in every aspect of his life, and now she was struggling out there, and he couldn’t do anything to help.

There was also the fact that Yondu had put that stupid idea in Peter’s head - a crush on Gamora? Sure, he had been attracted to her when they first met, wouldn’t say no if she actually wanted to date him, but...Peter sighed. He had nothing. There was nothing he could do or say for plausible deniability. He had a crush the size of the entire galaxy on his best friend.

He reached over to grab his tablet, scrolling back through their conversation history. The jokes, the gentle ribbing, the sometimes-serious discussion about what to do next. And then, at the very bottom, sat almost mockingly:

Peter [unsent]: i can’t wait til you’re back. i miss you.

a/n: this chapter is definitely more character-driven than plot-driven, but i wanted to give a peek inside their heads every now and then so y’all can understand where they’re coming from

peter, my sweet summer child, please do yourself a favour and send that message