#star-lord fluff

[harmonysanreads]

I NEED MORE PUPPY PHAINON, imagine that his beloved was offended by him, and he literally walks on his knees after her, asking for forgiveness, lol

Can be read as a continuation to this piece.

Phainon has become more partial to hating silence in his recent years.

It wasn't always this way though and in certain conditions, he finds himself craving a particular flavor of silence. But in the other, majority of cases, that deafening vacancy of noise reminds him of memories he’d rather forget. To placate that discomfort, he embellishes the void with sound no matter how small, or with his own voice.

Still, the ache is manageable, not voracious enough to make him dramatically restless. Where this faint modicum of control fails as well is when you, in all your cruelty, cast that curse of silence upon him as a direct consequence of anger.

In the name of the Titans, he prays you’d scream at him, hit him couple of times, destroy his house and belongings — anything, anything besides this nonverbal torture he can withstand. But he's not one to dwell in unfair complaints. Especially when your downturn gaze, pressed lips and crossed arms affirm so loudly that he's messed up.

By now, he’s exhausted almost every tactic in his arsenal to get you to acknowledge him again — apologizing, pinching his ears, making funny faces, wrestling a titankin and two whole repeats of that cycle. But you didn't let this opportunity go to waste in showcasing how good you’ve gotten in keeping a blank face in truly tumultuous situations, much to his chagrin in this instance.

It's only when you, most likely fed up with his antics, started to walk away that he scrambled to try again.

“My sun, my moon, my star, my light — please, please please please, look at me? Just once?” you're halted by a tug at your sleeve. A twinge of something softens your resolve as you realize how Phainon remembered, wrestling with his desires to not touch you until he's earned it again.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on your back, you pray that he didn't notice you waver. You steel yourself and stubbornly keep the act steadfast, conflicted before dropping the charade in favor of melting into his arms and forgetting altogether. But you can't, you’ve already promised to wring the confession on the errors of his ways this time.

You glare at the splinters in the earth, “Haven’t I told you once? If you keep calling me things that will never be yours, I might just become the same.” it takes everything to keep your voice even.

You don't need to look to picture Phainon's sure dumbfounded blinks, the churning and turning of metaphorical cogs as they shift in his head, neurons firing and synapses piecing together the implication of your cold comment.

You make the mistake of expecting only a gust of wind and are hit instead with a fully powered storm, in the form of a dull thud that you recognize as the hero’s knees hitting the ground when you're forced to spin as his arms find refuge in clinging to your thighs.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I am so SO sorry. I promise I won't do it again, I swear on the Flame-Chase — no, I swear on Aedes Elysiae that I will never do it again! If I do, may I face a fate worse than death itself. Just… just please, forgive me.”

There's an ache in your heart, sudden, quick and flighty. Kephale's light cradles you both, the corners of Phainon's eyes shine with something. By instinct, you try to escape the painful grasp of the hero, try to. Stumbling a few steps in what you intended would create space, resulting in Phainon getting dragged alongside your movements — sans a care in the Deliverer’s countenance.

“Phainon, I'm going to fall if you don't —” you try to bargain and fall, you do.

One ghost of a touch against the pavement is all you recall, so faint it can be disregarded completely. Your gasp gets muffled in something soft and firm, a mix of the perfume you recognize as yours and something else too convoluted to remember in the heat of the moment canopies your senses.

When the brief storm settles, a sigh slips past your lips. You don't even need to look up to know where you ended up landing.

But an insistent grasp angles your gaze against your wishes upward, you don't offer further resistance as pity grips your heart, “My dearest, beloved, my love, honeycakes with whipped cream on top, my life… won't you show me mercy?”

You calmly maintain Phainon's gaze, searching his face for any trace of dishonesty. The glossy blues of atonement prompts you to be petty one last time, “You don't care much about your life though.”

At this, Phainon completely deflates, collapsing in your arms. “Oh come on! Will you just say yes?”

At the faintest chime of the giggle you fail to quieten, he burrows further in the crook of your neck, arms coiling with a force you're no stranger to by now. Phainon shifts to adjust your position on his lap and changes tactics at the last moment, seizing your momentary lack of guard to launch an aimless attack of kisses.

You can only thank the barren side of Okhema city you two had chosen now, you do not want to think of what you’d have to do to get him off of you had this been a crowded place. The agony that came with the thirty something minutes of deprivation Phainon tolerated is much prominent, a burn lingers around your cheeks and neck. He refrains from completely leaning towards your lips though, still mindful that you haven't yet affirmed in words.

“Okay okay! You're forgiven, good heavens.” you heave, Phainon's exclamation of joy gets lodged in his throat prematurely, “But, you'll be sleeping on the couch today.”

You regret uttering that almost instantly, it's as if every particle of the hero’s life force has been drained mercilessly, appearing as though he might really cry this time.

You avert your eyes, forcing a sigh, “Ah, well, nevermind. You can sleep next to me — but I'll still be keeping a pillow barrier in the middle! Don't forget I'm still… still mad at you.”

As if on cue, Phainon springs back to life once more. Perhaps it's just your enervated eyes, but apparitions of what you can only assume to be puppy ears flick to and fro on top of his head. Caught in a trance, you reach out to ruffle those snow-white tresses and your lover melts.

You know your imposed punishment won’t last for more than ten minutes into the slumber and you’ll be coaxed with these antics again and again. But for this moment, you suppose it won't hurt to allow yourself to indulge and believe, that everything is okay.

[shunsuiken]

cw. gn!reader + you are a rather shy lover & sunday thinks its the cutest thing ever + kinda ooc + set in pre-version 2.2

sunday looks… far too handsome for a gala. it’s actually baffling how he captures your attention like no other being on penacony—or even the entire universe in fact! his shimmery golden eyes resemble a warm horizon and his voice is smooth and soothing like honey. but that smile… oh, that smile—it stirs a storm of butterflies in your belly and muffles the sound of people in the hall.

you gaze at him softly from where you stand, partially participating in conversation with guests. he’s really gone all out for this gala, huh… you’re snapped out of your thoughts the second your name is mentioned, immediately you giving the guest a smile to acknowledge what they’ve said, and then offer some input on what they were talking about.

when the conversation allows you to withdraw, you find yourself looking for sunday again. but he’s not where he was standing at earlier—he’s gone somewhere else! you unknowingly pout at the thought of this, folding your hands in front of yourself neatly as you try to search for your lover.

“i could feel your stare from a mile away, my dearest,” sunday chuckles lightly, a free hand caressing your back to comfort you. “have you found who you were looking for?” he raises a brow cheekily, amusement laced in his tone.

you jump slightly at the sudden presence of a person, then relax when you realise it’s your lover. you lean in a little closer, happy you’ve found who you’ve been searching for before awkwardly tearing your gaze away from him after considering how much your face must have brightened up. oh how embarrassing…

sunday watches your entire thought process from start to finish on the look on your face, having to stifle a laugh behind his gloved hand. “i’m afraid your expressions are as transparent as glass,” he hums, tilting his head to meet your timid gaze. “were you looking for me?”

you want to slide under the table and make yourself home there. there’s nowhere for you to run when you’re in sunday’s arms! your cheeks are lit aflame at how he stares at you—observing every inch of your features and how they twitch or curl because of him.

“no, i wasn’t—i simply was taking note of how well dressed everyone happened to be tonight!” you elaborate, obviously lying. sunday sees right through you.

and so he decides to play along.

the halovian hums a sound of agreement. “well said, my dove. but in your opinion, who would you say is the most best-dressed?”

no one dares to look upon the kind of affection sunday gives you. guests and members of the family simply turn their gaze away while the oak family head practically cradles you in his arms. red hearts might as well be shooting out of his eyes!

you blink, a little shocked by his question because did he really have to ask?! the answer is right in front of you!

“w-well,” you stutter, averting your gaze and it is to your misfortune that you miss to see how his soft amber gaze follows yours, as if not to miss a single thought that would reveal itself from the look on your face. “the suit you’ve chosen for this occasion is the most splendid colour.”

a small laugh erupts from his throat. “why thank you, my dove.” he pulls you a little closer and you squeak. “so you think i’m the best dressed?”

you stare at him and grant him an answer with a small nod. but with every passing second he showers you with his attention, the gradual heat that was previously tolerable is now a blazing inferno, dancing across your cheeks.

sunday realises now that he has to calm down. for the sake of his fragile-hearted lover and for the sake of his reputation. any more of this teasing and that really inappropriate sentence queuing at the back of his throat will really leave his lips.

his eyes do sparkle at how your lip quivers. you are just the cutest little thing!

“i am only kidding, dearest one.” he gives you a soft smile, hand rubbing circles on your hip. “though i do appreciate your thoughts.”

[la2yn0va]

Some intro dialogues with their s/o

Game: Marvel Rivals

Characters: Magik, Luna, Star Lord, Winter Soldier

(Short cause I still need to learn the lore of this game and the characters)

——

Magik

Magik: Stay close. I’ll prevent any of your blood being spilled.

M/n: That’s sweet Illyana. But I can take—

Magik: I wasn’t. Asking.

…

M/n: Magik, Whoever gets the least KO’s pays for dinner

Magik: Hmm? Do you truly wish for defeat this much love?

M/n: Don’t worry, your dinner will be you eating those words.

….

Magik: With us fighting together, our victory is assured.

M/n: Obviously, just feel bad that they’ll go back to their timeline with their pride destroyed.

Magik: That’s not the only thing that’ll be broken.

…

M/n: Illyana, is it cool if you do the heavy lifting? I’m getting sleepy.

Magik: I do not mind. Come. I’ll allow you to rest on me.

M/n: During battle…? Yeah no, better if I just power through.

Luna Snow

Luna: M/n—

M/n: I’m not singing to you.

Luna:…sheesh… could’ve at least let me finish saying it.

….

M/n: Seol, keep me alive yeah?

Luna: Duh~ I wouldn’t love you the same if you were dead.

M/n: Right…that was a stupid thing to say

…

Luna: M/n! We gotta finish this quick!

M/n: Uh… why?

Luna: Our reservation for that fancy restaurant is in 3 hours!

…

M/n: Think about it Luna. This is definitely better quality time then having to be bombarded with the paparazzi and media.

Luna: Yeah.. least this way I can assault without it being a crime.

M/n: Now your learning my language hot stuff. Or.. cold stuff….?

Star Lord

Peter: Aww yeah!! Time to—!!

M/n: Quill. Loud doesn’t equal attractiveness.

Peter: okay sorry.

…

M/n: Yo Pete! Got some bangers on that headphone?

Peter: Ya know it hot stuff!

M/n: Well don’t hog it, come on over space boy

….

Peter: Hey! After this, let’s go to the bar!

M/n: Pete… I don’t want to have—

Peter: Da— HA HO HEE wait! Hold on! I didn’t— why would you—!

…

M/n: Peter, if you carry this battle, I’ll kiss you.

Peter: Only one kiss? Come on babe, I come in high demand.

M/n:…Two and half kisses.

Winter Soldier

Bucky: Long way from Brooklyn, ay m/n?

M/n: As long as I’m with you, I’ll always be content

Bucky: You always know how to lighten my mood.

….

M/n: What else can that metal arm do?

Bucky: Uh… now isn’t the time to—

M/n: Dude, I was talking about battle. Save that stuff for the bedroom. 

…

Bucky: If hydra comes from you, I’ll end them

M/n: Pretty sure you’d do that anyway. But it’s nice to know you’re protective of me.

Bucky: Obviously.

….

M/n: Bucky, wanna switch weapons for this?

Bucky: Nah. Don’t think I can handle anything you have going on.

M/n: Oh? We oughta test that theory out.

…

The end, this shit sucked 😭

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Blood Moon

(1-1)

Short story # 27

Gif NOT mine.

Summary - It's that time of the month, and the first time you've gone through it while around Maul. His instincts take over, and a whole new side of him is revealed to you.

Rating - SFW (believe it or not it's pure fluff)

Reading time (roughly) - 5 minutes

Year posted - 2025

Talk of periods of course, and Maul being both OOC and downright weird. 🫶 Enjoy.

It had come to soon, nearly a week early in fact. Normally (Y/n) was prepared for it, and made sure to avoid Maul during this time. She'd heard stories about how these things can sometimes effect different species. And while she didn't know how he would react, she figured it would be best to avoid the Sith. However this time, she wasn't prepared, this time the cramps hurt bad enough to distract her from the fact that Maul was near. Groggily she trudged into the kitchen, hoping to get a nice cup of tea, and a snack to sate her growing appetite. Really she should have expected this to happen sooner or later, after all there was no way she could keep this hidden from Maul forever.

The instant she walked into the kitchen, she was cornered by Maul. The Zabrak could sense something was off about (Y/n). Instinctively he started sniffing at her, his black and crimson nose burying against her neck first. "What are you doing?" (Y/n) giggled softly, his nose tickling her skin as he trailed his nose down to her collarbones. He didn't respond, or even react as if he'd heard her. Instead he continued to sniff at her, trying to find the source of whatever had caught his attention. He knelt down as he trailed down her stomach, his nose burying harshly against her lower abdomen, where he continued to sniff deeply. (Y/n) was frozen in place, unable to form a single thought. Suddenly he dipped lower and sniffed deeply. (Y/n)'s hands shook with anxiety when he moved again, this time his nose pushed against her clothed sex. He inhaled deeply, his glowing eyes fluttering closed.

(Y/n) squeaked and jumped back, feeling extremely anxious now. "What are you doing!?" She hissed at him, her heart hamming in her chest. His eyes peeled open, as his hands moved to hold (Y/n)'s waist, leaving her at an arms length. "You're bleeding." Maul stated in a calm tone, his voice somehow deeper than normal. "Wha-? Y-yeah it's... Normal... I'm okay." She stammered in embarrassment, unsure if the Zabrak was familiar with periods. A growl rumbled in his chest and he suddenly rose to his feet, again making (Y/n) shudder with anxiety. "What are you-?" Maul cut her off and swiftly tossed her onto his shoulder. The sudden pressure on her abdomen made her cry out in pain. And in an instant the Zabrak hand pulled her off of his shoulder, and cradled her in his arms. "Forgive me little one." He said in a soft tone, walking out of the kitchen with large strides. (Y/n) couldn't form a single thought, unsure of what the Sith had in store for her.

Now inside his personal chambers, Maul sat (Y/n) down gently on the lounge against the far wall. "Stay." He grumbled before moving to his bed. Meticulously he began bunching up the blankets and pillows, then he moved to his wardrobe and pulled out all of his robes, which he dumped onto his bed. Adjusting and fluffing them until he was satisfied with what he'd made. (Y/n) watched him with curiosity, wondering why he appeared to be building a nest of sorts on his bed. Her eyes wide with curiosity and anxiety, she watched as Maul crossed the room once more. Wordlessly he scooped her into his arms, and carried her to his bed. Gently he laid her down in the center of the nest, his scent enveloping her and bringing her a sense of comfort. "Stay here, rest." Maul murmured as he nuzzled his nose into her hair, kissing her crown before leaving her to rest in his nest.

Maul left her without any explanation, and while she had been anxious, she found herself relaxing. He hadn't done anything to her, except offer her a comforting place to relax. A short while later Maul returned, bringing with him a soothing root tea, and a warm bowl of stew with fresh bread. "Eat." He instructed, spoon feeding her, as he sat beside her on the edge of his nest. "What are you doing?" (Y/n) asked after she swallowed her bite. "Helping you." He said before holding the bread out to her. She took a bite, humming at the taste. "I mean I get that, but why?" She asked before sipping the tea he offered her. "Is that not what a mate is supposed to do?" He asked casually as he continued to feed her. (Y/n) was stunned suddenly. Sure they were close, and sometimes shared rather intimate moments. But she never suspected that Maul saw her as a mate. "I-I suppose." She murmured, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. "Are you not satisfied?" Maul asked with an intense look in his eyes.

"N-no no of course I'm satisfied, this is really nice actually. I'm just surprised is all." She admitted with s small chuckle. "Why are you surprised?" Maul asked. "I just... I didn't realize that you saw me as your mate." (Y/n) felt herself blush, loving that Maul felt deeply enough for her to consider her a mate. Maul hummed in his throat. "Well now you know. You're mine." He smiled at her, his sharp teeth on display. (Y/n) mirrored his smile, feeling euphoric and fuzzy. "And I am yours." He added before moving to nuzzle his nose against her cheek. "Yes." (Y/n) hummed, forgetting about her cramping abdomen. Maul purred at her words, setting aside the now empty bowl, he joined her in the nest. Wordlessly he pulled her into his hold, the warmth of his body soothing. Still he continued to purr, his large hands rubbing soothingly along the length of her back. If (Y/n) had known that being around Maul during her period would result in this, she would have done so months ago. Having been pining for the Zabrak since they first met. "Rest now my mate, I will still be here when you wake." Maul said in a soft tone, making (Y/n) hum in content, as her eyes lulled closed.

I was a bit distracted while writing this so I apologize if it sucks... 😅

[st4rsinthenight]

★okay okay, you know what time it is, random g/t concept time erhhhh. I kinda wanna see a giant butting the tip of their nose against a tiny or something. Maybe it is a sign of a affection as they gently tap on their torso with their nose. Maybe they do it teasingly, to see just how little effort it'll take to knock the tiny over. Maybe they rub the tip of their nose on them just a bit, almost like a gentle nuzzle, just to give em a few butterflies to swarm around in their stomach.★

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so- I need some period fluff with Peter Quill. I saw you do it for Tangerine, and while I’m not a part of that fandom, i thought it would be really sweet to do it with Quill.

It’s totally okay if you’re not interested or too busy or something! Just a thought!

~Bear🐻

hii bear!! I just had to do this first (again sorry to all the others in my inbox, I’ll get there, I promise) thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

if anyone wants the tan fic, link is here

“shark week”

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || periods but no specific details, fluff

I don’t usually struggle with titles, but this one I did (could you tell?) 😭 I’ll change it if I think of something better

masterlist + rules

taglist

When it was your time of the month, you had a tendency to be quite sluggish and withdrawn, only ever leaving the bedroom to get more snacks or to use the bathroom. So when Peter noticed that you were confined to the comfort of his apartment on Knowhere, he was naturally a bit worried. You and Peter had been dating for a little while now, so your periods weren’t exactly foreign to him. It was just something that usually slipped his mind as he’d often be confused by different calendars amongst various planets.

Today was your least favourite of all, the day of your period that left you feeling debilitated. So for that very reason, you had spent the majority of the day snuggled in Peter’s sheets, drifting in and out of sleep and eating copious amounts of Zarg Nuts.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you see Peter standing in the doorway looking at you with an uneasy expression that instantly softens once he sees you awaken. “Hey,” he says softly, making his way over to the bed and taking a seat at the edge. “You doing okay?” Lacing his hand into yours, brushing his thumb over the back of it.

“Yeah.” You reply, sweetly smiling at him. “Just feeling shitty.”

“Why?” He tenderly questions, eyebrows furrowing as if to analyse your face.

“Bleeding.” You whisper, softly chuckling.

His eyes blow huge, darting over you with caution. “Oh— oh” he responds, finally catching on. “Shark week… again?”

“Yeah Pete, that’s how they work.” You laugh hard, abruptly cutting off when you feel something you shouldn’t have.

His reaction mimics yours, eyes widening when he sees your parted lips. “What? You okay?” His gaze follows you as you bolt out of bed. “What’s going on?”

“Just need—“ your reply muffles behind the bathroom door.

“Need what?” He sweetly questions, nuzzling his ear to the door.

“Shit.” You mumble. Now talking loud enough for him to hear. “In the nightstand, top drawer… there’s a—a paper type box, please can you bring it to me?”

Within seconds, he’s back and knocking on the door with your box of feminine products. “Do I put it under the door, or— or close my eyes? I don’t know what to do, what do I do here?” He replies, his tone flustered as he presses back up against the door.

Adjusting yourself and hiding the toilet paper. “You can come in.”

He slowly opens the door, hand clutched over his eyes as he wavers the box towards you, using the space around him as a guide. Accidentally bumping into a few things along the way. “Put your hand out… what can I get you? What do you need?” He warmly asks, gingerly backing out to give you a moment of privacy.

Stifling a snicker as you watch him leave. “I think I’m okay for now… maybe some tea? Steal it from Mantis, she has good tea.”

“On it.” Running away only to return a second later. Enunciating through the door. “I love you!”

“I love you!” You loudly reply, a wide smile spread along your lips.

When you return to the bedroom, you see Peter bundled under the covers with snacks spread across the bed, holding items to help with your cramps and pains. “Get in.” He grins, opening the covers so you could slip yourself in beside him. Snuggling next to him, he lifts your head so he could support your neck with his bicep, holding you tight against him. “I don’t know if you need this now, or…?” He starts, pulling a hot water bottle from under the sheets.

“Was that on your stomach?” You ask, a giggle held behind your lips.

Chuckling. “Yeah… feels really good.”

“Yeah, I know.” You laugh, nuzzling the side of your head into his chest. “I don’t need it right now, you can keep it.”

“Oh, you’re the best.” He smiles, resting the flat bottle over his abdomen. “Just take it off me if you need it.”

Hiding a grin, you look up at him, gazing in admiration. “I need it now.” Watching his smile slightly fade. “I’m just kidding.”

He fakes a laugh with accentuated and playful features. “Do you need anything? … medicine? Back rub? Foot rub? Kisses? Bath? Sleep? Food? Chocolate? Tummy rub? Tea? — no we got tea. I think making out will help, yeah making out will definitely help.” He aimlessly lists, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yes.”

“To what?” He boyishly grins, twisting his neck to kiss your temple.

“To it all.” You reply, wrapping your arm over his chest. “But I think a nap first, that okay?”

“I’m always down for a nap.”

[okasuka]

Peter quill x brooding reader - just made this for fun tbh

The ship jolted as it touched down on a dusty, bustling planet. The marketplace buzzed with life—vendors shouting, alien species bartering, and the faint hum of music drifting from somewhere in the maze of stalls. Peter Quill, Gamora, Rocket, and Y/N descended the ramp of the Milano, each scanning the area.

“Alright,” Peter started, clapping his hands together. “Standard Guardian protocol. Split up, grab supplies, and—uh—try not to blow anything up.” His eyes flicked toward Rocket.

Rocket raised his paws defensively. “What? That was one time! And to be fair, the explosives were defective.”

Gamora rolled her eyes and slung her sword onto her back. “I’ll find food and water,” she said curtly. “Y/N, Peter, why don’t you handle clothing? Rocket can… just not cause trouble.”

Rocket snorted. “I’ll handle the tech parts. I’m not a child.” He paused. “But if you find any fancy space grenades, I call dibs.”

Gamora didn’t dignify that with a response. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Peter and Y/N standing awkwardly by the ship.

“Well,” Peter said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, “looks like it’s just you and me, Y/N. Gonna be fun.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Let’s just get it over with.”

The two wandered through the stalls, dodging eager merchants and curious aliens. Y/N kept her pace steady, her Thraxan heritage lending a faint glow to her skin in the planet’s sunlight. Peter tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice her, even when she was in full brooding mode.

“So,” Peter began, trying to break the silence, “you’re not a fan of shopping, huh? Not your thing?”

Y/N’s lips twitched—barely noticeable, but it was there. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, just your boundless enthusiasm,” he quipped, flashing her his signature grin. “Come on, it’s not so bad. Shopping can be fun. You find something cool, you try it on, you look amazing…”

“Do you always talk this much?” she interrupted, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Peter smirked. “Only when I’m with someone worth talking to.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, but Peter swore he saw a flicker of amusement in her golden eyes.

After an hour of searching, they stumbled upon what could generously be called a clothing shop. The merchant, a four-armed alien with a booming laugh, gestured them toward the racks. Peter’s optimism faded the moment he saw the selection.

Skimpy dresses. Skimpy tops. Skimpy… everything.

Y/N held up a piece of fabric that looked more like a decorative napkin than a shirt. “This is a joke, right?”

Peter stifled a laugh. “Uh… maybe it’s ‘local fashion’? Could be their thing.”

Y/N shot him a withering look and put the fabric back. “I’m not wearing this.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, trying not to think about the mental image of Y/N in one of those outfits. “Yeah, I don’t think it really suits you. Too… flashy. You’re more of a, uh, leather jacket and combat boots kind of gal.”

“Good observation,” she said dryly, though there was a faint hint of approval in her voice.

The merchant approached, babbling in an alien language. Peter attempted to charm his way out of the situation, but Y/N quickly stepped in, speaking fluent Thraxan. The merchant nodded and scurried off, leaving Peter impressed.

“Wow,” he said. “Didn’t know you were bilingual. Or, uh, quad-lingual? Whatever that was.”

Y/N shrugged. “You pick things up when you’re a bounty hunter. Survival skills.”

“Cool, cool,” Peter said, rocking on his heels. “So… no skimpy outfits. Got it. But what do we do now? You still need something, right?”

She hesitated, her stoic mask slipping just enough for Peter to notice her discomfort. “I’ll make do with what I have.”

Peter frowned. “Hey, come on. That’s no way to live. Everyone deserves to feel good in what they’re wearing.” He paused, his tone softening. “You deserve it.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression unreadable again. “You’re… really bad at being subtle, you know that?”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But I mean it.”

For a moment, Y/N seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she sighed. “Let’s check one more place. If we don’t find anything, we’re done.”

The second shop wasn’t much better, but Y/N managed to find a simple, well-fitted jacket and sturdy pants—nothing flashy, but practical and functional. As she tried them on, Peter waited outside the fitting area, tapping his foot nervously. When she emerged, he blinked.

“Wow,” he said, a little too loud. “I mean… you look great. Not that you don’t always look great, but, uh, yeah.”

Y/N gave him a rare, faint smile. “Thanks, Quill.”

“Anytime,” Peter said, fumbling with his words as they approached the counter to pay.

Peter reached for his credits while Y/N adjusted her jacket. As she pulled her hands out of her pocket, one of her knives slipped from the lining of her jacket and clattered onto the floor. “Dammit,” she muttered, crouching down to pick it up.

That’s when it happened.

A massive alien, almost seven feet tall and covered in thick, leathery skin, sidled up behind her and smirked. He gave a sharp whistle and slapped her rear with one of his oversized hands. “Nice form, sweetheart,” the alien drawled in a grating voice.

Y/N froze mid-motion, gripping the hilt of her knife tightly as her golden eyes darkened with fury.

Peter stiffened beside her, his jaw clenching as he stepped forward. “Hey, pal,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Why don’t you back off before you regret it?”

The alien glanced at Peter and snorted, clearly unimpressed. “What’s it to you, little man? Didn’t know she needed a babysitter.”

Y/N stood up slowly, her expression deathly calm. “Touch me again,” she said coldly, “and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Peter had seen Y/N pissed off before, but this was something else entirely. Her knuckles were white around the knife, and there was a dangerous glint in her eye that made even him a little nervous.

“Whoa, whoa, no violence in my shop!” the merchant interjected, stepping between them. He pointed a long, scaly finger at the alien. “Get out before I call security.”

The alien glared at Y/N and Peter, his smug demeanor fading slightly under Y/N’s icy stare. “Fine,” he grumbled, backing away. “Not worth my time, anyway.”

As he left, Y/N relaxed her grip on the knife, though her expression remained stormy.

“You okay?” Peter asked, his voice quieter now.

She nodded, slipping the knife back into her jacket. “I’m fine. He’s lucky the shopkeeper stepped in.”

Peter huffed, still glaring after the alien. “I don’t care how big that guy was. I was about two seconds away from teaching him a lesson.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Against him?”

“Hey, don’t underestimate me,” Peter shot back, though his tone was lighter now. “I’ve got moves. You know, if you ever need backup.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, surprisingly, she gave a small chuckle. “Sure, Quill. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N handed over the credits for her new clothes, slipping the items into a small bag. She slung it over her shoulder and turned toward the exit, with Peter trailing behind her.

“Alright,” she said, brushing past the merchant’s counter. “Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to test their luck.”

“Yeah, good plan,” Peter muttered, still glancing over his shoulder, half expecting the alien creep to return.

They stepped into the marketplace, and the crowd had only grown thicker since they first arrived. Aliens of all shapes and sizes pushed and jostled one another, shouting over the noise of bartering and street performers.

Peter tried to keep up with Y/N, but the press of the crowd made it nearly impossible. One particularly large alien bumped into him, sending him stumbling directly into her.

“Quill,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him as he bumped into her side for the third time.

“Sorry!” Peter said, hands raised defensively. “It’s the crowd, not me. I swear.”

Y/N sighed, clearly annoyed, but instead of snapping at him again, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Come on. I’m not dragging you through this chaos.”

Peter’s breath caught as her fingers wrapped around his wrist, firm but not harsh. “Uh, right,” he stammered, stumbling after her as she pushed her way through the throng.

Y/N moved with purpose, cutting through the crowd like a knife. Peter, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to focus on the fact that she was holding onto him. Her grip was warm and steady, and his brain kept replaying the moment she’d decided to take charge.

“Keep up, Quill,” she muttered without turning around, her tone sharp but not unkind.

“Yup, keeping up,” Peter said, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. He ignored the way his face felt like it was on fire.

They finally emerged from the sea of bodies into a slightly less crowded area. The rich, spicy scent of food hit them instantly. They were in what appeared to be the planet’s version of a food court—stalls lined the perimeter, each offering a dizzying array of dishes.

Y/N released Peter’s wrist and folded her arms, scanning the stalls. “Might as well grab something to eat while we’re here.”

Peter flexed his fingers, the ghost of her touch still lingering on his skin. He nodded quickly, trying to sound normal. “Yeah, good idea. All that shopping worked up an appetite.”

Y/N glanced at him sideways, clearly unimpressed. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Hey, moral support is hard work!” he shot back, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but Peter thought he caught a flicker of amusement before she turned back to the stalls.

“What do you feel like eating?” she asked, her tone more neutral now.

Peter shrugged. “Anything that won’t try to eat me back is fine. You?”

Y/N stepped toward a stall selling skewered meats sizzling over an open flame. “This looks decent,” she said, nodding to the vendor.

Peter followed, still trying to shake off the ridiculous flustered feeling she’d managed to stir up without even trying. As they placed their orders, he stole a glance at her. Stoic and brooding as ever, Y/N was a walking contradiction—a tough, no-nonsense bounty hunter who occasionally let her walls slip just enough to drive him completely crazy.

“Quill,” Y/N said sharply, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” he blinked, realizing she was holding out one of the skewers to him.

“Your food,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” Peter said quickly, taking the skewer. “Just… taking in the sights.”

Y/N shook her head, clearly unimpressed, but there was a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she turned back to her food.

Peter and Y/N found a small bench near the edge of the food court. It wasn’t exactly quiet, but it was better than the chaotic press of the marketplace. Y/N leaned back slightly, chewing on her skewer with casual indifference, while Peter took a more animated approach, alternating between bites and chatting about random topics.

“So,” Peter said, gesturing with his half-eaten skewer, “you think Rocket’s blown something up yet, or is he waiting for the perfect moment?”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance. “If he hasn’t, it’s because he found something more dangerous to mess with.”

Peter chuckled. “Fair point. You know, one of these days, we’re gonna have to drag him away from a bomb before it—”

“Hello there, handsome,” a sultry voice interrupted.

Peter froze mid-bite, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up to the source of the voice. Standing in front of them was a tall, shimmering alien woman with deep blue skin and golden patterns that glowed faintly across her body. She wore what could barely be called clothing—more like strategically placed strips of fabric—and had an aura of practiced confidence.

“Well, aren’t you just a treat,” the alien woman purred, her golden eyes fixed on Peter. “What brings someone like you to this corner of the galaxy?”

Peter blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh… just, you know, on a… mission thing.”

The woman tilted her head, her smile widening. “A mission, huh? You must be very brave. Or very strong.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe both?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond—probably to say something dumb, knowing him—but Y/N cut in, her voice icy and sharp.

“Back off.”

The alien woman turned, clearly unimpressed by Y/N’s tone. “And who are you, his bodyguard?”

Y/N stood, her golden eyes narrowing. “Something like that. And I’m telling you to leave. Now.”

The woman arched a delicate brow, but there was a flicker of unease in her golden eyes. Y/N’s stoic expression wasn’t one to be questioned lightly. After a tense moment, the alien scoffed and stepped back.

“Fine,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Enjoy your mission, hero.”

As she strutted away, Peter turned to Y/N, still half-stunned. “What the hell was that about?”

Y/N sat back down and resumed eating her skewer as if nothing had happened. “What?” she said flatly.

“You just scared off an alien supermodel,” Peter said, throwing his hands up. “What’s the deal?”

“She was a distraction,” Y/N said bluntly.

Peter frowned. “A distraction? From what?”

“From our job,” Y/N replied, her tone sharp. “We’re here to get supplies, not flirt with every local who bats their eyes at you.”

Peter squinted at her. “Really? That’s it? You weren’t, I don’t know, jealous or anything?”

Y/N gave him a withering look. “Don’t flatter yourself, Quill.”

Peter held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay. Just saying, it seemed a little… intense, is all.”

She shook her head and stood up, tossing the empty skewer into a nearby bin. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Peter watched her as she strode away, her usual air of confidence and indifference firmly in place. He couldn’t quite figure her out—one moment, she was shutting him down with that stoic glare, and the next, she was scaring off someone just for talking to him.

“Definitely not jealous,” Peter muttered to himself, scrambling to catch up with her. “Right?”

The walk back to the ship was relatively uneventful, though Peter kept sneaking glances at Y/N. She was still wearing that same stoic expression, but he could tell she wasn’t as relaxed as she let on. He wanted to say something to lighten the mood, but he figured it was better to let her have her space—at least for now.

By the time they reached the Milano, the others hadn’t returned yet. Y/N immediately made her way to one of her workbenches near the cockpit, pulling out a half-finished gadget from a drawer. Peter watched her settle into her chair, her focus instantly sharpening.

He leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching her tinker. Her hands moved with practiced precision, adjusting small wires and tightening screws. After a moment of hesitation, he wandered over and leaned down over her shoulder.

“So,” Peter began, his tone curious, “what are you working on?”

Y/N didn’t look up from her work. “A signal disruptor. It scrambles short-range comms if you’re in a tight spot. Could come in handy if Rocket decides to run his mouth at the wrong time. Again.”

Peter chuckled. “Okay, that’s actually pretty cool. How does it work?”

Y/N sighed but didn’t shove him away. She held up a small component, pointing to a series of wires and circuits. “This regulates the frequency output. It has to be strong enough to jam the signal but not so strong that it fries the whole system. That’s why I’m adding a capacitor here—”

Peter leaned in closer, pretending to follow along. “Uh-huh. Capacitor. Right. Totally makes sense.”

Y/N smirked faintly, glancing at him. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a clue,” Peter admitted with a grin. “But I like watching you work. You’re… really good at this stuff.”

Before Y/N could respond, heavy footsteps echoed through the ship’s ramp. Peter barely had time to straighten up before Drax’s booming voice filled the cockpit.

“Ah! There you are!” Drax said, his tone loud and enthusiastic as usual. “I was looking for you, Quill!”

Peter turned just as Drax marched up behind him. Without warning, Drax clapped a massive hand on Peter’s back, shoving him forward.

“Drax, what the—” Peter yelped as he stumbled straight into Y/N.

The momentum sent her chair skidding backward, and they both toppled onto the floor. Peter landed awkwardly on top of her, his hands bracing against the floor on either side of her head. For a split second, he froze, his face mere inches from hers.

“Uh… hey,” Peter said weakly, his face burning.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, her cheeks tinged with a faint red hue. But the surprise didn’t last long. Her expression darkened as anger replaced her embarrassment.

“Get. Off,” she growled.

Peter scrambled back instantly, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean—Drax pushed me—”

Before he could finish, Y/N was already on her feet. She turned on Drax, her fury palpable.

“What is wrong with you?!” she snapped, shoving him hard in the chest.

Drax, unbothered, tilted his head. “You were both in the way. I was simply helping Quill.”

“Helping?” Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides. “You—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she punched Drax square in the chest with enough force to send him stumbling backward into the wall. The impact made a loud thud that reverberated through the ship.

Drax looked more confused than hurt, rubbing his chest as he frowned at her. “Why are you angry? I thought that was a good bonding moment for you and Quill.”

Y/N let out a frustrated growl and turned on her heel, storming out of the cockpit. Peter watched her go, wincing as she disappeared down the ladder into the lower levels of the ship.

“Nice going, Drax,” Peter muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Drax shrugged. “I thought she would appreciate my efforts.”

Peter sighed and started after her, muttering under his breath. “Yeah, she definitely appreciated it…”

The rest of the crew returned a short while later, Rocket leading the charge with an armful of new gadgets and a smug grin. Gamora followed close behind, looking exasperated but unscathed, while Groot shuffled in with a bright yellow fruit twice his size in his arms. Drax, unfazed by Y/N’s earlier punch, immediately began boasting about his “helpful interference.”

Peter barely listened. His thoughts were on Y/N, who hadn’t reappeared since storming off earlier.

“Hey, uh, I’ll be back in a bit,” Peter said, waving off Rocket’s sarcastic remark about his “lazy shopping trip.”

He headed down to the lower levels of the ship, where he figured Y/N had retreated. Sure enough, he found her at her usual workbench, surrounded by tools and scrap parts. She was hunched over an old MP3 player, her fingers delicately working on its inner components.

Peter leaned against the doorway, folding his arms. “Didn’t peg you for a music fan,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Y/N glanced up briefly, her expression neutral as usual. “What makes you think I am?”

Peter gestured to the MP3 player. “That thing. Nobody messes with ancient tech like that unless they care about what’s on it.”

She shrugged, turning back to her work. “I like fixing things. Doesn’t mean I care about the music.”

“Uh-huh.” Peter stepped closer, leaning over her shoulder. “So what’s on it?”

Y/N hesitated, her hands pausing for a split second before resuming their work. “Just some old songs.”

Peter smirked, sensing her reluctance. “Come on. You can’t leave me hanging like that. I’m the music guy, remember? Let me guess… classical? Jazz? Maybe something weird like Klingon opera?”

Y/N actually snorted at that, though she didn’t look up. “No. Nothing like that.”

Peter tilted his head, his curiosity growing. “So what is it, then?”

Y/N sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to drop it. She set the MP3 player down and turned to face him, leaning back slightly in her chair. “It’s a mix. Some Fleetwood Mac, Nirvana, Green Day… MSI.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, Fleetwood Mac? Nirvana? Green Day? I didn’t know you had taste.”

“Funny,” Y/N said dryly. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“Are you kidding? I love Fleetwood Mac,” Peter said, sitting on the edge of the workbench. “’The Chain’? That’s a classic.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Didn’t think you’d be into anything that wasn’t pop rock from the ’70s.”

“Hey, I’m a man of many layers,” Peter said with a smirk. “What about Nirvana? You seem more like a ‘Heart-Shaped Box’ kind of person.”

“‘Drain You,’” Y/N corrected, her tone softening slightly. “It’s… raw. Simple. Gets the job done.”

Peter nodded, impressed. “Nice. And Green Day?”

“‘American Idiot.’ Obvious choice,” she said, leaning back further and crossing her arms.

Peter grinned. “Okay, I take it back. You’ve got better taste than I expected. But MSI? That’s a little, uh, intense.”

Y/N smirked faintly, the closest thing to a smile he’d seen from her all day. “You saying I can’t handle intense?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Peter said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just… didn’t think you’d go for a song like ‘Stupid MF.’”

“It’s fitting,” Y/N said, her golden eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a hint of mischief in her gaze now. “Especially when I’m stuck dealing with you.”

Peter laughed, leaning back slightly. “Alright, fair. But I’m still the music guy here. If you ever wanna swap playlists, I’m your man.”

Y/N shook her head but didn’t outright dismiss him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Progress,” Peter muttered to himself, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. But if that MP3 player starts blasting ‘Dreams,’ you better let me know.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement on her face as he walked away.

Peter lingered just outside the doorway for a moment, glancing back to see Y/N already engrossed in the MP3 player again. There was something about seeing her like that—relaxed, almost vulnerable—that made him grin. She was still stoic, still guarded, but she’d let her walls drop just enough to share a little piece of herself. And for Peter, that was a win.

He wandered back to the main deck, where Rocket and Groot were arguing over something incomprehensible, and Gamora was cleaning her sword. Drax was sitting nearby, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Peter plopped down in the pilot’s chair, spinning it lazily. He thought about Y/N’s music taste, a mix of brooding intensity and rebellious edge. It made sense, in a way—just like her.

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” Gamora said, not looking up from her blade.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts, straightening up. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Rocket chimed in, smirking. “What, did Y/N finally smile at you? Gonna throw a party to celebrate?”

Peter glared at him, though his face betrayed him with a faint blush. “She likes Fleetwood Mac. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Congratulations,” Rocket said sarcastically. “You’ve discovered she’s not a robot. Anything else you wanna share with the class?”

“Leave him alone,” Gamora said, though her tone was only mildly disapproving. “We have more important things to worry about.”

Peter leaned back in the chair, still grinning despite himself. “You guys wouldn’t understand. It’s… character depth.”

Rocket groaned. “You’re hopeless.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stayed in the lower levels of the ship, tuning out the commotion above. She’d managed to fix the MP3 player, and now it sat in her hand, the screen glowing faintly. She scrolled through the playlist, stopping on “The Chain.”

The familiar opening notes began to play through her small headphones, and she closed her eyes for a moment. The song transported her back to simpler times—times before bounty hunting, before running with the Guardians. It wasn’t nostalgia, exactly, but it was grounding.

She didn’t realize Peter had come back until his voice broke through the quiet.

“Thought I told you to tell me if you played Fleetwood Mac,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Y/N pulled the headphones out and gave him a flat look. “Didn’t realize I was under orders.”

Peter walked over, his usual cocky grin in place. “Not orders. Just… you know, a suggestion. Sharing music’s a bonding thing. Team-building.”

Y/N turned her attention back to the MP3 player, but there was a faint smirk on her lips. “What do you want, Quill?”

Peter sat on the edge of her workbench, leaning closer to peer at the device. “Just wanted to see what else you’ve got on there. Maybe trade some song recommendations.”

Y/N hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen. Then, with a sigh, she handed the MP3 player to him.

“Don’t break it,” she warned.

Peter took it with exaggerated care, scrolling through the playlist. He raised an eyebrow at some of the songs, chuckling when he saw “Stupid MF.”

“You weren’t kidding about this one,” he said, grinning. “Bet this is your theme song.”

Y/N shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Better than ‘Hooked on a Feeling.’”

Peter gasped, clutching his chest. “Hey, that song’s a masterpiece.”

“Sure it is,” Y/N said dryly.

Peter laughed, handing the MP3 player back to her. “Alright, tough girl. Next time, I’m making you listen to my playlist.”

“We’ll see,” she said, slipping the headphones back on.

Peter lingered for a moment, watching her as she fiddled with the player. Then he stood, stretching his arms. “Guess I’ll let you get back to your tinkering. Try not to let ‘Drain You’ put you in too bad of a mood.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but as he walked away, he thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile.

Y/N eventually made her way up to the cockpit, her repaired MP3 player tucked safely in her jacket pocket. She wasn’t in the mood for the usual chaos of the team, but she figured avoiding them all day wouldn’t exactly help their “team cohesion.”

When she entered, the usual scene greeted her: Rocket and Groot bickering over a pile of strange tech parts, Drax laughing at something no one else found funny, Gamora calmly cleaning her sword, and Peter lounging in the pilot’s chair, spinning it idly.

Gamora glanced up as Y/N entered. “Fixed whatever you were working on?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, leaning against the wall near Gamora. “Just an old player. Nothing urgent.”

Gamora nodded, setting her sword aside. “You’re always working on something. Do you ever relax?”

Y/N gave her a faint smirk. “Tinkering is relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

“I think I’d be terrible at it,” Gamora said dryly.

“Probably,” Y/N teased, surprising herself.

Gamora raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem offended. Instead, she leaned back slightly, studying Y/N. “You’ve got a sharp sense of humor when you want to.”

Y/N shrugged. “Don’t get used to it.”

That earned her a soft laugh from Gamora, and to her own surprise, Y/N felt herself chuckle a little as well.

“Holy krutack,” Rocket interrupted, his eyes wide in mock shock. “Did you guys see that? Y/N laughed. I think hell just froze over.”

Y/N turned to Rocket, her face quickly reverting to its usual stoic mask. “Careful, Rocket. I can take that big mouth of yours apart as easily as one of your gadgets.”

Rocket snorted, crossing his arms. “Oh yeah? You can try, but you’d—”

Before he could finish, Y/N stepped forward, towering over the small raccoon. She leaned down slightly, her voice calm but dangerously low. “You really wanna test that theory?”

Rocket blinked, his bravado faltering for a split second. “Uh… nah. I’m good.”

Peter burst out laughing, spinning his chair around to face them. “Oh man, I never get tired of watching you humble him.”

Rocket muttered something under his breath, retreating to the other side of the cockpit as Groot patted him consolingly.

Gamora gave Y/N a knowing look. “I see you’re not afraid to keep him in line.”

“Somebody has to,” Y/N said, her lips twitching upward in a small smirk.

Peter leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “You know, for someone who acts like they don’t like any of us, you’re pretty good at keeping this family together.”

Y/N shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Family? That’s a stretch.”

“Maybe,” Peter said with a shrug. “But it’s kind of true, isn’t it?”

Y/N didn’t respond, but her silence was telling. She glanced around the room at the mismatched group of criminals-turned-heroes and let out a quiet sigh.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But if anyone starts singing ‘We Are Family,’ I’m leaving.”

Peter grinned. “Noted.”

The Milano was quiet as the crew settled into their respective quarters for the night. Y/N had tried to sleep, but as usual, her mind refused to cooperate. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she gave up, pulling on a pair of baggy joggers and a sports bra before heading to the cockpit.

The faint hum of the ship’s systems filled the space as she settled into her usual spot. Tools and parts were scattered across the console, and she started tinkering with a new prototype—a compact energy blade she’d been designing for close combat. It was quiet, and for once, she appreciated the solitude.

But of course, it didn’t last.

The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and Y/N glanced up to see Peter wandering into the cockpit. He was in his usual sleepwear—an old band tee and sweatpants—but the moment his eyes landed on her, he froze.

“Uh…” Peter stammered, his gaze flicking away as if suddenly very interested in the walls.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, turning back to her work. “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Peter said, clearing his throat as he forced himself to look at her face. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come up here and… you know, check the stars or whatever.”

“Right,” Y/N said, not bothering to look up.

Peter hesitated, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes kept betraying him, darting back to her exposed shoulders and toned arms before he quickly looked away again. “You, uh… working on something?”

“What does it look like?” she asked dryly, holding up the half-finished energy blade. “Close-quarters weapon. Small enough to conceal, strong enough to cut through just about anything.”

Peter stepped closer, his curiosity overcoming his awkwardness. “That’s… actually pretty cool. Does it work yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N admitted. “Still working on stabilizing the energy output. If I fire it up now, it’ll probably explode.”

Peter chuckled, leaning against the console. “Exploding weapons. Sounds like Rocket’s dream come true.”

Y/N smirked faintly. “Exactly why I’m keeping it to myself for now.”

The silence that followed was oddly comfortable, though Peter couldn’t quite stop himself from sneaking another glance at her. The cockpit’s dim lighting highlighted the sharp angles of her face and the way her alien features blended seamlessly with her human ones.

“You’re staring,” Y/N said without looking up, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Peter snapped out of it, his face flushing. “I’m not! I was just… admiring your work.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced.

He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh… do you ever sleep? Or are you like some kind of tinkering machine?”

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, setting her tools down. “I sleep when I need to. Tonight just… isn’t happening.”

Peter nodded, sitting down across from her. “Yeah, I get that. Nights like this, my brain just won’t shut up, you know?”

She glanced at him, her expression softening slightly. “What keeps you up?”

Peter hesitated, uncharacteristically serious. “A lot of things, I guess. The usual stuff—past mistakes, wondering if we’re gonna make it through the next mission… thinking about the people I care about.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow at that last part, but she didn’t push. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “What keeps you up?”

She was quiet for a moment, her golden eyes fixed on the weapon in her hands. “Same as you, I guess. Except I don’t dwell on it. I work. Keeps my mind busy.”

Peter nodded, watching her closely. “Makes sense. You’re kind of a badass like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though there was a faint smirk on her lips. “Don’t start.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Peter said, grinning.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while after that, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space. Peter found himself oddly at ease, even as he tried very hard not to let his gaze wander again.

Y/N, for her part, didn’t seem to mind his presence—though she’d never admit it.

The next morning, the crew gathered in the cockpit, groggy but ready for their next job. Rocket was rummaging through a bag of stolen gadgets, Groot was munching on the alien fruit he’d brought back from the market, and Drax was sharpening his knives. Gamora stood by the navigation console, while Y/N leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“So,” Peter began, spinning his chair around dramatically. “Our mystery client wants us to retrieve a package from some warehouse on Terrex-4. Easy job, big payout. Sounds like a win to me.”

Gamora frowned. “If it’s so easy, why did they hire us?”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe they like our charm.”

“Or maybe they’re setting us up,” Y/N said flatly.

Rocket snorted. “Paranoid much?”

“Not paranoia,” Y/N replied. “Experience.”

“Alright, we’ll play it safe,” Peter said, trying to defuse the tension. “But we’re not passing up a payday. Let’s move out.”

The warehouse on Terrex-4 was a rusted, crumbling structure in the middle of a barren desert. The Guardians entered cautiously, weapons drawn and senses on high alert.

“Where’s the package?” Gamora asked, scanning the dimly lit interior.

“Should be right… there,” Peter said, pointing to a metallic crate near the center of the room.

But before anyone could approach it, a familiar whistle pierced the air, and a glowing Yaka arrow shot past Peter’s head, embedding itself in the wall behind him.

“Aw, hell,” Peter muttered.

The Guardians spun around to see Yondu and his Ravagers stepping out of the shadows, weapons raised.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite boy and his merry band of idiots,” Yondu drawled, his grin wide and dangerous.

“What the hell, Yondu?” Peter shouted. “This was supposed to be our job!”

“Funny thing about that,” Yondu said, twirling his Yaka arrow. “It was my job first. But I figured I’d let you do the heavy lifting. Now, hand over the crate and maybe I won’t kill ya.”

Rocket raised his blaster. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

The tension snapped like a rubber band, and chaos erupted.

Blaster fire lit up the warehouse as the Guardians fought their way out. Drax and Gamora took on the Ravagers in close combat, while Rocket and Groot provided covering fire. Peter and Y/N worked together to flank Yondu, who was using his arrow with deadly precision.

But the Ravagers were relentless, and even as the Guardians managed to reach the Milano, it wasn’t without cost.

Y/N covered their retreat, firing off her blaster as she backed into the ship’s ramp. A sharp pain suddenly tore through her arm, and she glanced down to see a deep gash, blood seeping through her jacket.

“Y/N!” Peter shouted, grabbing her by the uninjured arm and dragging her into the ship as the ramp closed behind them.

Rocket fired a final shot from the cockpit as the Milano blasted off, leaving the Ravagers cursing in their wake.

The ship’s medbay was a mess of supplies as Peter dug through the cabinets, his expression tense. Y/N sat on a bench, her jaw clenched as she pressed a cloth to the wound on her arm.

“Quit fussing,” she said as Peter returned with a medkit.

“You’re bleeding all over the place,” he shot back, kneeling in front of her. “This is gonna need stitches.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, letting him take her arm. Peter carefully removed the blood-soaked cloth, his brow furrowing as he examined the wound.

“This is deep,” he muttered. “How the hell did you not pass out?”

“Adrenaline,” Y/N said flatly. “Just hurry up.”

Peter grabbed a sterilized needle and thread, his hands surprisingly steady despite the situation. He worked in silence for a moment, the close proximity making him painfully aware of how warm she was, how her sharp features softened slightly when she wasn’t scowling.

Y/N, for her part, was doing her best to ignore the way Peter’s fingers brushed against her skin as he worked. She focused on the ceiling, her jaw tight.

“You okay?” Peter asked softly, glancing up at her.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice sharper than intended.

Peter smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, for someone who’s so tough, you’re kinda terrible at letting people help you.”

Y/N gave him a flat look. “And for someone who can’t shut up, you’re surprisingly good at stitching.”

Peter chuckled, finishing the last stitch and cutting the thread. “Alright, you’re good to go. Try not to punch anything with that arm for a while.”

“Noted,” she muttered, flexing her fingers experimentally.

Before the moment could settle, Rocket sauntered into the medbay, a sly grin on his face.

“Well, ain’t this cozy,” he said, folding his arms. “You two need a room, or is the medbay romantic enough for ya?”

Peter flushed, standing up quickly. “Oh, shut up, Rocket.”

Y/N glared at the raccoon, her eyes narrowing. “Say one more word, and I’ll use you for target practice.”

Rocket snickered but backed off, muttering something under his breath as he left.

Peter turned back to Y/N, scratching the back of his neck. “You know he’s never gonna let this go, right?”

“Let him try,” Y/N said, standing up. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Peter grinned despite himself. “Yeah, I bet you have.”

Y/N shot him a look but didn’t bother responding as she left the medbay.

Peter watched her go, shaking his head with a small smile. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

The Milano was unusually quiet as the crew settled back into their routines. Y/N headed to the lower levels of the ship to cool off, still irritated from the mission—and Rocket’s teasing. The gash on her arm throbbed faintly, but the stitches were holding.

Peter, meanwhile, wandered aimlessly around the cockpit, fidgeting with buttons and controls that didn’t need adjusting. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Y/N had looked at him earlier—sharp and exasperated, but not entirely dismissive. It was progress, in its own weird, complicated way.

Gamora’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you going to sit there brooding all night, or are you going to check on her?”

Peter spun his chair around. “What? I’m not brooding.”

“You are,” Gamora said without looking up from her blade. “She’s hurt, and you’ve been pacing like a caged animal since she walked out of the medbay.”

Peter hesitated, debating whether to argue, but Gamora’s knowing look stopped him.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered, standing up. “I’ll go… check.”

Peter found Y/N in her usual spot, a dimly lit corner of the workshop where she was fiddling with a damaged blaster. Tools and parts were spread out across the table, but her movements were slower than usual, her injured arm clearly giving her trouble.

“Should you really be doing that?” Peter asked, leaning against the doorway.

Y/N didn’t look up. “What do you want, Quill?”

“Just checking on you,” he said, stepping closer. “You know, because I’m a responsible leader and all that.”

She snorted softly. “Leader. Right.”

Peter grinned, pulling up a stool next to her. “You’re welcome, by the way. For saving your arm.”

“I don’t remember asking for your help,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

“Well, you’re welcome anyway,” he said lightly, glancing at the blaster she was working on. “You know, you could’ve just taken a break. The ship’s not gonna fall apart without you.”

Y/N finally looked up, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t do breaks.”

Peter held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No breaks. Got it.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the ship filling the space. Peter watched as Y/N’s hands moved deftly over the blaster, even with her injured arm. He couldn’t help but admire her focus—and her stubbornness.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” he said suddenly.

Y/N paused, her hands hovering over the blaster. She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “What are you talking about?”

Peter shrugged, leaning back slightly. “You’re always fixing things, keeping us alive, holding your own in every fight… It’s impressive.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, then shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Peter admitted, grinning. “But I’m not wrong.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Go bother someone else, Quill. I’m busy.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, standing up. “But if you need anything—”

“I won’t,” she interrupted.

“Right,” he said, chuckling. “Of course you won’t.”

As he left the workshop, Y/N watched him go, shaking her head. Peter Quill was infuriating, annoying, and entirely too charming for his own good.

And yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to kick him out.

The Guardians hadn’t planned on spending the night on Ezeron-6, but after the chaos with Yondu and the Ravagers, the Milano needed refueling and some minor repairs. Peter found the closest available lodging—a rundown establishment with a flickering neon sign that read “Ezeron’s Finest”—and decided it was good enough for the night.

What they didn’t realize until they walked in was that “Ezeron’s Finest” wasn’t a standard inn. It was a strip club.

The group stood awkwardly near the entrance as music thumped through the air, and scantily clad alien dancers moved around the room, drawing the attention of the rowdy crowd. Rocket and Drax, of course, looked absolutely thrilled.

“This place is fantastic!” Rocket declared, hopping onto a barstool to get a better view of the stage.

“I agree,” Drax said, his tone unusually serious as he observed the dancers. “These performers are very talented.”

Gamora looked thoroughly unimpressed, her arms crossed. “We’re staying here? Seriously?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, already regretting his decision. “Look, it was the closest place, okay? We’ll just stay the night and leave first thing in the morning.”

Y/N, as usual, was unfazed. She scanned the room, her expression flat. “I’ve seen worse.”

Gamora gave her a look. “This doesn’t bother you?”

Y/N shrugged. “Not my business.”

Peter, on the other hand, was clearly uncomfortable. His gaze darted around the room, trying (and failing) not to look at any of the dancers. “Let’s just… get our rooms and stay out of trouble, alright?”

The night passed uneventfully—for the most part. Drax and Rocket seemed to be enjoying themselves far too much, while Groot simply wandered around making friends with the staff. Gamora sat at a corner table, her arms crossed as she glared at anyone who came near her. Y/N, meanwhile, had claimed a seat at the bar, quietly sipping a drink while keeping an eye on the others.

Peter eventually found her there, his usual confidence slightly shaken by the setting. “Hey, uh… you wanna get out of here for a bit? Maybe… take a walk?”

Y/N glanced at him, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”

“Just… you know, fresh air,” Peter said, fidgeting slightly.

She studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The two of them wandered through the quiet streets of Ezeron-6, the neon lights of the strip club fading behind them. The night air was cool, and the stars above were unusually bright.

For a while, they walked in silence, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of traffic and the occasional alien vendor closing up shop.

Finally, Peter cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

Y/N glanced at him. “That’s new.”

“Ha-ha,” he said, though his tone was distracted. “No, seriously. I’ve been thinking about… us.”

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. “What about us?”

Peter hesitated, running a hand through his hair. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing, but… I like you. A lot. More than I probably should.”

Y/N blinked, caught completely off guard. “Peter—”

“I know you’re probably gonna tell me this is a bad idea,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “And maybe it is. But I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. You’re… incredible, Y/N. And I’d be an idiot not to tell you.”

Y/N stared at him, her usual stoic mask cracking slightly as a mix of emotions flickered across her face. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come.

Instead, she stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and kissed him.

Peter froze for a moment, his eyes wide, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to rest on her waist. It was a brief, fierce moment of connection, and when she finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

Peter looked at her, his usual grin returning, though it was softer this time. “So… I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though there was a faint smirk on her lips. “Don’t push it.”

Peter chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Got it.”

As they turned to head back to the inn, Peter couldn’t stop grinning. Y/N, for her part, kept her expression neutral, but her golden eyes were unusually bright.

Neither of them noticed the small figure watching them from the shadows.

“Well, ain’t this somethin’,” Rocket muttered to himself, a sly grin spreading across his face.

The Guardians were already back at the strip-club-turned-inn by the time Y/N and Peter returned from their walk. Gamora was in her room, Groot was curled up in a plant pot, and Drax had apparently decided to “help” clean up the stage area, much to the dismay of the dancers. Rocket, however, was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink—and wearing a smug grin.

As soon as Y/N and Peter walked in, Rocket’s ears twitched. He swiveled in his seat, the grin widening. “Well, well, well. Look who’s back from their little romantic stroll under the stars.”

Peter froze mid-step, glancing at Y/N. “Uh-oh.”

Y/N, on the other hand, remained completely unfazed, walking past Rocket without so much as a glance.

“Don’t pretend like I didn’t see ya,” Rocket continued, hopping off the barstool and following them. “The hand-holding, the dreamy stares, the kissing. Oh yeah, I saw it all.”

Peter groaned. “Rocket, c’mon—”

“I gotta say,” Rocket interrupted, ignoring him, “this is some quality dirt. And you know me—I’m not above sharing it with the rest of the crew. For the right price, of course.”

Y/N stopped walking. Slowly, she turned to face Rocket, her golden eyes narrowing.

“Uh, Rocket?” Peter said, backing up a step. “You might wanna rethink this—”

Rocket held up a paw, cutting him off. “Relax, Quill. I’m just having a little fun. Ain’t no harm in that, right?”

Y/N stepped forward, her movements deliberate and calm. Before Rocket could react, she grabbed him by the front of his jumpsuit and lifted him clean off the ground, slamming him against the nearest wall.

Rocket’s smug grin faltered. “H-Hey, easy now—”

Y/N leaned in, her voice low and dangerous. “You think this is funny? Trying to blackmail me?”

Rocket swallowed hard, his wide eyes darting to Peter. “Uh… it was just a joke?”

Her grip tightened. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Okay, okay!” Rocket squeaked, holding up his paws in surrender. “No blackmail! I swear!”

Satisfied, Y/N released him, letting him drop to the floor with a thud. Rocket scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and muttering something under his breath.

Peter, who had been watching the entire scene with barely concealed amusement, finally burst out laughing.

“That,” he said, pointing at Rocket, “was priceless.”

Rocket shot him a glare. “Yeah, laugh it up, Quill. You’re just lucky she likes you, or you’d be the one eating wall.”

Y/N glanced at Peter, her expression as neutral as ever. “He’s not wrong.”

Peter laughed even harder, leaning against the wall for support. “Totally worth it.”

Rocket grumbled something about “crazy humans” as he stomped off, leaving Peter and Y/N alone.

Y/N turned to Peter, raising an eyebrow. “You think that was funny?”

Peter wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. “Absolutely. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

She smirked faintly. “Good idea.”

Y/N walked off toward the front desk, Peter trailing behind her, still chuckling quietly to himself. The clerk—a tall, four-armed alien with smooth green skin and an air of boredom—barely looked up as they approached.

“We need a room for the night,” Y/N said bluntly.

The clerk raised one brow, glancing between her and Peter. “One room?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, sliding a credit chip across the counter.

The clerk’s bored expression shifted into a sly grin. “Ah. I see. Just one room. For the two of you. Together.”

Peter’s face turned bright red. “Oh, no, no, it’s not like that—”

The clerk ignored him, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Say no more. I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

Y/N frowned, her golden eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

The clerk handed her a keycard with a flourish, their grin widening. “The Lover’s Suite. Very private. Very soundproof. Perfect for… whatever it is you two crazy kids get up to.”

Peter sputtered. “That’s not—we’re not—”

Y/N grabbed the keycard without a word, her expression unreadable. She turned on her heel and started walking toward the stairs, leaving Peter to flounder behind her.

“Enjoy your night!” the clerk called after them, laughing.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Peter hurried to catch up with Y/N. “Uh, did you hear what that guy said? About the room?”

“I heard,” Y/N said flatly, not slowing down.

“And you’re just… okay with it?” Peter asked, his voice rising an octave.

She stopped at the door marked “Lover’s Suite” and slid the keycard into the lock. “What’s the problem, Quill? It’s just a room.”

Peter stared at her, his face still red. “It’s not just a room, it’s—”

The door clicked open, and Y/N pushed it wide, stepping inside. Peter followed reluctantly, his protests dying in his throat as he took in the sight before him.

The room was… exactly what the name suggested. Red silk sheets covered the circular bed in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with dim, glowing lights that gave everything a warm, romantic hue. A bottle of some alien champagne sat chilling on the nightstand, alongside two glasses.

Peter blinked. “Oh, come on.”

Y/N glanced around, unfazed. “It’s a bed. That’s all that matters.”

Peter pointed at the champagne. “That is not just a bed!”

She dropped her bag onto a chair and turned to face him, her arms crossed. “Do you want to sleep on the floor, or are you going to stop whining?”

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it, deciding it was probably best not to argue.

Y/N rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her boots off. Peter hesitated for a moment before doing the same, sitting on the far side of the bed and trying very hard not to think about how weird this was.

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help but glance at her. “So, uh… this doesn’t bother you at all?”

Y/N shrugged. “I’ve stayed in worse places. This is nothing.”

Peter shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She smirked faintly. “You’re just figuring that out?”

Peter laughed despite himself, leaning back against the pillows. As awkward as the situation was, he couldn’t deny that he felt… oddly comfortable.

“Well,” he said, glancing around the room again, “at least Rocket’s not here to see this. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Y/N snorted softly. “If he tries, I’ll put him through a wall.”

Peter grinned. “That’s my girl.”

She shot him a sharp look, and he immediately corrected himself. “I mean—uh, not like my girl, but—”

“Goodnight, Quill,” Y/N said firmly, turning off the lights.

Peter sighed, sinking deeper into the bed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Despite the room’s ridiculous décor, Peter couldn’t help but smile to himself as he drifted off.

The soft hum of the ship’s systems filtered through the Lover’s Suite as Peter stirred awake. He blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes and trying to piece together where he was. The red-tinted walls, the absurdly soft bed, and the faint scent of alien champagne all came rushing back.

“Oh, right. Strip-club-turned-inn,” he muttered under his breath, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

As he glanced around the room, his eyes landed on Y/N. She was standing with her back to him, pulling a fresh shirt over her head. For a moment, she was completely shirtless, her toned back illuminated by the dim glow of the room.

Peter’s gaze caught on something he hadn’t noticed before—a massive scar running diagonally across her back. It was jagged and uneven, the kind of wound that must have been deep and brutal when it was fresh.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. There was something strangely captivating about the way the scar curved with her muscles, a testament to her strength and resilience.

Y/N suddenly stiffened, as if sensing his gaze. She turned her head slightly, catching him staring out of the corner of her eye.

“See something you like, Quill?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Peter immediately sat up straighter, his face turning red. “No! I mean—uh, I wasn’t—”

She pulled her shirt the rest of the way down and turned to face him, her golden eyes narrowing. “You’ve got about five seconds to explain yourself.”

Peter held up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I just… noticed the scar. I wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything, I swear.”

Y/N relaxed slightly, though her expression remained guarded. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It kinda is,” Peter said, his voice softer now. “What happened?”

She hesitated, crossing her arms. “It’s old. From before I joined the Guardians. Back when I was a bounty hunter.”

Peter nodded, not pushing her to elaborate. “It’s… intense. But I guess that makes sense. You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N shrugged, her tone dismissive. “Haven’t we all?”

Peter tilted his head, his usual cocky grin slipping back into place. “Yeah, but not all of us look as badass as you do while doing it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though there was a faint smirk on her lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Peter admitted, still smiling. “But I’m an honest idiot.”

She shook her head, turning to grab her gear. “Get ready. The others are probably waiting for us.”

Peter watched her for a moment longer, his grin softening. “You know, Y/N… you’re kind of amazing.”

“Stop talking before I regret not throwing you off the bed last night,” she said, but there was no real heat in her voice.

Peter chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Noted.”

By the time Peter and Y/N made it to the common area of the ship, the rest of the Guardians were already there, preparing for the day ahead. Rocket was tinkering with one of his makeshift weapons, Gamora was cleaning her sword, and Drax was doing something vaguely threatening with a very large knife. Groot sat on the table, observing everything with mild interest.

“Morning, lovebirds,” Rocket called out the moment they stepped in, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Peter groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t start, Rocket.”

“Start what?” Rocket asked innocently. “I’m just saying, you two came out of that Lover’s Suite looking awfully refreshed.”

Y/N ignored him, walking over to her workstation and beginning to unpack her gear. “Say one more word, and I’ll weld your mouth shut.”

Rocket’s grin faltered slightly. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Tough guy act. Real convincing.”

Peter smirked, grabbing a cup of coffee. “You’d think Rocket would learn by now.”

“I don’t learn. That’s what makes me me,” Rocket replied, puffing out his chest.

“Right,” Y/N said, pulling out a particularly nasty-looking weapon and examining it. “And it’s why you’re always two seconds away from getting your tail handed to you.”

The group snickered, and Rocket muttered something about “everyone ganging up on him” as he went back to his tinkering.

Gamora glanced at Y/N, a hint of amusement in her usually serious gaze. “So… the Lover’s Suite, huh?”

Y/N sighed, not looking up from her work. “It was a bed. That’s it.”

Peter raised a hand. “To be fair, it was a ridiculously romantic bed.”

Gamora smirked. “And yet you survived.”

“Barely,” Y/N muttered, giving Peter a sideways glance.

The banter continued for a while as the Guardians finished their preparations, but Peter couldn’t help sneaking glances at Y/N. There was something different about her this morning—maybe it was the way she held herself, or the quiet confidence in her every move.

Or maybe, Peter thought with a small smile, it was the fact that he finally felt like he was starting to see the real her.

Later, as the crew prepared to land on their next destination, Peter found himself standing beside Y/N at the cockpit.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the console, “you’re seriously not gonna tell me more about that scar?”

She shot him a look. “Why are you so interested?”

Peter shrugged, his tone playful. “What can I say? I’m curious. You’ve got this whole mysterious, brooding thing going on—it’s kinda your brand.”

Y/N shook her head, but there was a faint smirk on her lips. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. If you stop being annoying.”

Peter grinned. “No promises.”

As the Milano began its descent, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Peter out of the corner of her eye. He was grinning like an idiot, as usual—but for once, she didn’t mind.

[lanaslovelyletters]

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 ³

𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬...

Anakin x Princess!Reader

Part 3

Previous chapter: Part 2

Overall series warning: 18+ content (smut), mature themes, swearing

Warnings: Light swearing (but who cares about this)

Last chapter recap: “The dark lord completely ignored your question, letting himself calm down before backing off and walking towards the door. Before he left, he got a final word in, “We’re to wed in a week. You’ll stay here until then.” What..?”

Summary: He continues to fend off your questions until you decide to be bold, to which he retaliates…

Word Count: 1.5K+

Author’s note: So many people asked to be on the taglist and ily guys ugh❤️ Also, sorry for going AWOL. Had a lot of stuff on my plate<3 Btw, for everyone on the taglist, don’t worry if you change your username. If I tagged you before, I can tag you again<3

Taglist: @blackthorngirl @formula1mount @bby-imasociopath @anakinsbaee @darthgloris @tatumrileyslover @itzmeme @lunalitva @marvellover98 @rorysbrainrot @moonlight-dreamer04 @kittyrumbl3r @itsoneofusworld

“You’re not being serious.” You scoffed, almost grinning, but when you saw the look on his face— everything melted into dread and disappointment. He stared at you with stern-looking eyes before shutting the door behind him. You heard sharp noises emerge from the door, meaning he locked it.

“You’ve got to be joking.” You laughed dryly before your body hit the bed. It was fluffy and felt like a warm hug. A stark contrast to the situation you found yourself stuck in. It was unbelievable, really. You were seriously to marry a Sith Lord. A slave to the dark side. Sure, he was handsome, but only as handsome as an apple could be.

Alas, you were far too tired to think about the whole ordeal. Your eyes grew heavy and it was becoming increasingly harder not to nod off… and finally, it grew all black.

(Break)

You woke up to the darkness of space creeping in through the single window you had in the room. It was impossible to tell how long you’d slept and how long you’d be staying there. Nobody would tell you a thing, and the Dark Lord would certainly never give you any answers.

A sudden knock pulled you out of your little trance, and the door burst open. In walked two troopers. They marched in, picking you up from the bed with a strong force. Didn’t Vader mention I’d stay here for a week? What’s going on? Ironically enough, you decided not to struggle or fight back. It’s not as if going back home was a choice anymore. You knew the dark side wasn’t forgiving anyway. 

“I’m not a rag doll. I know how to walk,” you complained, as you felt your body sliding across the cold, polished floor. When there was no response, you scoffed. It was loud enough for them to hear, but it wasn’t like they cared. They were simply following orders like mindless robots. It was as if it was their input.

After passing through several corridors and riding multiple elevators, you finally found yourself being dragged along to a dimly lit dining room. The layout was nothing fancy. A large table and chairs to go along with it. On one end sat Vader. He still donned his pitch-black suit, with his eyes trained on you. The way his hair fell around his face and the way his Adam’s Apple bopped as he gazed at you— it was to swoon over. You were made to sit opposite him. You didn’t dare move. You knew he could end me with the flick of his fingers.

“I hope you have an appetite.” Maker, his voice. It was rough yet smooth, velvety yet rigid… you were drowning in the octaves.

“Not much of an appetite when I’ve just been taken hostage.” No, you couldn’t give in. He was handsome to be sure, but he was still a ruthless sith.

“Hostage? You’re not a hostage, love.” Love. What was he playing at?

“I’m… not?” Your eyebrows were furrowed along with a scrunch of your nose.

“Hostage implies you’re here against your will and that I await someone to negotiate for you… I plan to keep you.” Though his words seemed daring and almost devious, his facial expression and tone told you a different story. He was a wall. Cold and without feeling. He seemed serious and determined.

“Why me? How did you know my father? Why did you want my family killed?” You furrowed your eyebrows. His gaze remained fixed on you, as he breathed heavily and got up from his seat. His boots hit the floor in a threatening manner. When he stopped in front of you, his gloved hand held your chin softly. So soft that you almost felt comfortable in his presence.

“Curiosity killed the cat, princess.” As you let your head be lifted ever so gently, you saw the stark contrast between his touch and his demeanour. His stare was blank and icy. It was as if no life existed behind his eyes. Eyes that were otherwise so… never mind. 

“Luckily, I’m not a cat,” Bold. Quite bold. Did you care? No. You had about as much control over him as he did you. He wasn’t going to kill you. No, if he wanted to, he would’ve done so in a heartbeat. He wanted to wed you. To have you as his bride. As sickening as the idea of that was, at least you wouldn’t die anytime soon. 

“You’re quite carefree for someone who’s lost her entire family and been taken against her will.” You could’ve sworn you saw a faint smirk swiftly make an appearance before being washed out by his brooding expression.

Oh, but there was something about his face. It did seem familiar. You couldn’t place your finger on it. There wasn’t anything that stood out in particular, but oh there was something about his face.

“I’m talking to you,” he spoke in a rough voice, before tightening his grip on your face, burying his fingers into your cheeks

“I’m not scared of you, Sith.” A grin. His lips contorted into a wide smile as he let out a scoff,

“You’ve got moxie. I’ll give you that.” Your eyes met his. Force, if I had ever seen a man—

“Moxie? I beg to differ. Why would I be scared of a lowly Sith Lord like you? You’re not even the emperor. Are you even strong enough to—”

“Princess,” he breathed as he snaked his hand tightly around your neck, the pads of his fingers snuggled themselves into your soft skin. The tension was palpable. It could be cut with a knife. The way you continued to defy him and resist him…he hated it. You were such a pretty little thing, but so stubborn too. Too set in your ways.

“We all have our… limits. You’re starting to test mine, your highness.” Something about him addressing you as ‘highness’ clashed so hard with the circumstances you found yourself in; it gave you whiplash.

“I want answers…” your whisper came out shaky. Not because you were starting to lose your footing. No, it was his grip on your throat. If anything, you almost found him humorous. He was creating a paradox and running around in circles; essentially embarrassing himself.

“I don’t want to give you any.” You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. His logic was deeply flawed and there was no wrapping your head around where it started or ended. It was a mess. A tangled mystery for you to sit and braid together to form a clear path.

“I don’t want to marry you, but here we are.”

“Let me rephrase. I can’t.” His gaze diverted to the floor. He was clearly struggling. Either to recall or decide whether or not to do so.

“I don’t understand.” Your throat was slowly released, as he walked towards the door to the room.

“Can you at least tell me why you chose me? Out of all the women in this galaxy… Why me?” Your feet had somehow carried you off to go after him. He walked with purpose through several corridors, taking swings and turns to try and throw you and the question off.

“Please?” Admittedly, you were getting impatient. Desperate. 

“Say, would you like to know how I went about ending your father’s life?” He suddenly turned around with a menacing look on his face. It wasn’t maniacal. It was as if you were staring into a blank wall.

“Excuse me?” What the hell is wrong with him? Your eyes darted to the floor before you lifted your head back up to meet his.

“I asked you if you wanted to know how I killed your father. How I—“

“No, I heard you the first time. How does that have anything to do with my question?” He smirked for a moment before his smile faltered,

“You’re completely unphased. Didn’t think the king was that much of a horrible father.” How could he address your father like that? With that knowledge? How did he know your father like that?

“Yeah, well… he was. So give me an answer to my question. Why me?” The two of you stopped in front of a large white door. It had a face recognition lock on it.

“Because… I know you.” His voice dropped an octave as he stared at your reaction. You weren’t shocked, just confused.

He scanned his face and the entrance to a dark room was revealed. You were just about to follow him before he turned around,

“Do you wish to retire with me for the night?” What? Your brow bunched up together and you lightly shook your head,

“No… of course not.”

“Then I suggest you stop following me.” A grin was apparent on his lips.

“Evening, princess.” The door closed behind him and you were left standing there; completely dumbfounded. However, this unlocked a window for you to walk around freely, trying to find a way to escape. There didn’t seem to be any stormtroopers around. Marrying a Sith was that of nightmare fuel. It didn’t matter how gorgeously his hair fell around his face and how his scar elevated his overall appearance. He was a Sith Lord.

You needed to find a way out. By all means necessary.

To be continued…

Please DM, comment, or ask to be added on the taglist<3

Here’s the masterlist<3

[rose-l-20]

Hello there, I just stumbled onto your page and I was wondering if I could request a Darth Maul x female reader with angst and fluff? Like reader is with the jedi order, but she isn't exactly liked because she has darkness in her but Maul likes her.....or if you have an original plot, go for it, I won't complain.

P.S.-I may come back and request something with Iceman or something from Harry Potter!

Please take me away - Darth Maul x Female!Human!Jedi reader

Hello! Thank you for the request! This idea is perfect for me to write my first Darth Maul Fic! 😫 I’ve always wanted to but never had the courage to do so! Please send any other requests you would like I would love that!

I also loved how you used blue for your writing! It made me read the request in the narrator from the Clone Wars show 😂

I hope you like it!

❤️🖤❤️🖤

SUMMARY: see request above!

WARNINGS: Reader is mistreated, reader is isolated, name calling, general angst, murder, swearing, stalking undertones, reader crying, insomnia, protective Darth Maul, age gap, nicknames, soft Darth maul, general fluff, running away, Jedi becomes Sith, Kyber crystal bleeding ritual. (TW) Unedited!

The sun was covered by clouds, seeping through the main Padawan training room. A lightsaber defense class was currently in session, with a head count of 12 15-16 year old Padawans. Along with a Master Jedi knight, who was teaching them a new range of skills and techniques.

There was a pair, consisting of a 15 year old boy and an equal aged girl. Her name was (y/n). She was known to be “slightly ahead” for her age. She found it easy to learn new skills. Almost like it was already written in her code.

The lesson started with meditation, to get everyone into the right head space. Moving onto an extensive warm up of the body, to ensure a full range of motion. Then the training began!

Each pair went one at a time, so their Master could watch them clearly without distractions. The majority of the pairs had their turn before (y/n) and her partner got to have theirs.

They got into position, ready to spar. The pair waited in idle anticipation for their Master to give the sign to start. Once hearing a “GO!” Blue crashed against green. The light crackles of contact, the hum of movement, and the children’s focused grunts were the only thing to be heard. The boy pushed (y/n) against the wall with the force, causing her to get frustrated as she knew she was years ahead of him. The sparing match went on, it looked like watching a dance routine.

The final straw for the young woman was the boys foot making contact with her chest, and shoving her to the ground. With a loud scream she used the force to pull herself up and started violently thrashing her saber against his, leaving him little to no time to strategies. She let out grunts and screams. “I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU”, the words flew from her mouth and echoed in the large room.

The boy had slipped and fell hard on the ground. He was frightened to say the least, his saber was the only thing protecting him from being sliced apart. He called out to their master “HELP ME! SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME!”. With that their Master used the force to retract the girls lightsaber, which lead her to look at him with furious eyes. Before she could make another sound, she was put to sleep.

———

Since that day you never got along with anyone. Some people were wary of you and always tried to avoid you, while others were cruel to you. But one thing both groups had in common, was calling you horrible names. You were bounced around to different Masters, some just gave orders and ignored, some would insult you and make your life a living hell. You suffered in more ways than one. You were always stressed, never sleeping well, constantly being tired leading to you being an anxious woman. The topic of being kicked out was a reoccurring conversation, which lead to anxiety attacks. You could never catch a break mentally.

Walking through the halls of the order felt like being an easy target. You constantly heard whispers and people would shout at you. “Freak”, “Sith spy”, “future murderer”, “red eyes”, “piece of shit”, “waste of space”, “I bet your parents were bad people, and wanted nothing to do with a child like you!” And so much more.

Their were many missions were you would be called a few names, and insults. But one mission stuck out from the rest. You were told to stay back after the night watch debrief, which you knew wasn’t to praise you on your efforts.

You were 18 at the time, and 2 years from knighthood. The leading Jedi knight who gave the debrief, got right up into your face and verbal attacked you. The sun was setting behind him, making the hood he was wearing cast a shadow over his eyes. He was intimidating both in general and in this moment.

“(Y/n), you worthless waste of resources. If you make even one mistake or fault…I will get you kicked out. Am I fucking understood?” He gritted out with his teeth. You nodded with a “yes Master”, he shoved your shoulder and walked off. Your whole body shrunk into itself as you whispered “don’t cry” repeatedly.

———

As you were gathering yourself, a certain Dathomirian Zabrak was watching on. He was there to seek out information on the Jedi. Amber eyes were fixated upon their first glance at you, and his body froze. Seeing your Master lash out at you stopped him in his tracks. He heard what he needed to, ready to move on when he heard your name being called. The sound alone stopped him. When the senior Jedi threatened you, his body tensed. He didn’t know why, but it was like a hidden instinct had kicked in.

He saw you take a deep breath, ground yourself and walk off to your night watch route. You walked around the south west side of the building, starting to scope out the terrain. His body followed yours like a curious cat, walking slowly and steadily. His eyes scan over your body, learning every inch, while his fingers itched for the blood of the master who treated you like shit.

His mind was all over the place, and he struggled to make sense of it. Why was he following this young woman, while he was trying to get a job done. You felt his strong force signature, and ignited your blue saber. Your eyes darting in different directions, the man skilled in force distribution. Your body was on fire with a concoction of anticipation and adrenaline, using all the energy you could on finding the being who was a potential threat to the order.

After 10 minutes the signature was gone, and so was your energy. You walked back to your wall position and slouched against it, fingers rubbing your eyes as a new ache came from your temples. “Fucking hell, they’re now messing with my night duties. How low can they get?”

The black and red patterned man left on his ship with new information and some…conflicting emotions.

———

A year and 10 months passed and your life was bizarre to say the least. The mistreatment, name calling and isolation was still the same to your disappointment. But your sleep quality was heavily improved, your body felt better rested, and your anxiety has gone down significantly. The only side effect was weird dreams.

Across the span of this time the man had gone through a handful of months of trying to shove you from his mind, you were like a plague. He also thought of the most brutal of deaths for the master who insulted you. He got so annoyed with his mind he requested to be in a new area of the galaxy to not be able to even feel your presence…it didn’t help a single bit.

5-6 months into the year he had started accepting the emotions, and decided to watch over you. He wasn’t happy about the Jedi order’s behavior towards you. He was ready to kill every person who looked disgusted or said anything about you. He watched over you as you cussed, and cried for an ounce of a nice nights sleep, so he used his powers to lull your mind into restful, sweet, blissful sleep. The next morning your body felt like it was on a fluffy cloud. Your eyes welled up with tears of relief, and joy as you had enough energy to put in a little more effort in your appearance. Hair tied up in a proper style instead of a messy ponytail, uniform clean, and a smile rested on your slightly red, bitten lips.

The joy was only short as you were sent on a 2 month mission a few weeks later, and your sleep got worse again. This caused the multiple horned man couldn’t find you. But don’t worry he is a very determined person, and found you within a week.

At that point, your anxiety and stress had sky rocketed. Your usual bullying had gotten worse, because you didn’t make it to base camp at the allocated time. Leading to your masters to yell at you, give you inventory to sort, and you couldn’t rest until it was complete. Half way through you felt the familiar force signature from the first night. A smooth, yet gravelly voice made you jump while instinctually igniting your lightsaber.

“You shouldn’t have to endure the torment they put upon your heart and mind” the voice spoke, while coming out of the shadows. Confusion etched its way onto your face. You could tell the hooded man was no good, a Sith Lord most likely but you didn’t try to alert any one of his intrusion. His words seeped into your mind like sand between one’s toes. Repeating over and over.

“What is your business here?!” You got into your fighting stance, trying not to question his words and protect your camp. If you save them from this guy you could finally be liked! He rolled his eyes, using his ability with the force to seep into your thoughts. “You know they’ll find something wrong, even if you succeed in taking me out Darling”

Your figure slightly slumped over as his eyes held the truth. His hand reached and snatched your Saber from your hand, retracting the beam and placing it on your belt. Your confusion amplified at his actions. “What? W-why are you even telling me this?”

“Because Darling” he walked up to you, stopping just a foot from your body. You could see the details of his face, the red more clear in contrast to the black. “You know I’m right”. Your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach, you did, you knew he was right.

———

From that day he showed up randomly, sometimes when you expected it, and sometimes you had to aggressively push him behind a wall and whisper “are you nuts?!”. He would smirk and shrug, walking off. You’d roll your pretty eyes and follow.

You stayed in the order, but found your comfort and peace in the man who went by “Maul”. It took a while for you to believe he wasn’t lying about a few things about himself, but once a foundation of trust was made you hung onto his every word.

You of course went through the usual phases. “What do you want?”, To “you again?”, To “stalker much?”, To “oh thank kriff you’re here!”. You guys maintained a great friendship. You had inside jokes, comfort between one another, learnt every little thing about each other, and so much more. The friendship lasted 4 years, until the following year (when you turned 25) you both felt a shift in the atmosphere. Catching each other’s eyes at random moments, longer silences and more tactile interactions.

However your workplace never got better, Maul would be there to support you through the worst days. The first time you both initiated a hug was when you were having a mental breakdown, and just a simple hand on your back didn’t help he pulled you tight, and close to his chest. You froze immediately upon impact, shocked but still in the middle of a mental breakdown you continued to get all of your feelings out in the crook of his neck. From there you both were comfortable in each other’s arms.

The 5th year, as the aura of your friendship was in its transformation you were struck with another breakdown. You flung yourself off your bed, the tie of your pajamas becoming loose as you ran into the woods. The fabric lowed over your shoulder as your eyes frantically looking for your confidant. You knew not to call out his name, they, the Jedi, will find you and punish you. Or worse, kill him. So your body fell to the ground trying to breathe through the pain.

The crunch of his boots against grass had you looking up at his worry stricken face. He reached for you as you blabbered through sobs “please…take m-me…away from here!" he held you and fixed your pajamas. Once you settled into his embrace he lifted your face by your chin, looking for any hesitations. Once certain he took his cloak off and placed it onto your frame. “Ok Darling, let’s go”

———

You got yourself familiar with your new home, which was his chambers on the planet of Mustafar across the span of 4 days. “How are you feeling darling?” His voice sounded so sweet in your ears. Your mind was finally at ease being off that planet. Your stress and anxiety felt like a distant memory already. You got up from his surprisingly comfortable bed while grabbing his outstretched hand. “Better, much better Maul”. He pulls you to his meditation room which was attached to his chambers. “This is where I would seep into your mind to bring you restful sleep”.

“I knew it was you after a while, the pieces of the puzzle came together on their own.” You smiled up at him. He reciprocated with his own smile. Maul used the force to pick up your lightsaber off your night table. “Are you ready and are you sure?” He held your chin again. “Yes”. With the force Maul opened your saber, to retrieve the Kyber crystal, placing it onto the ground you sat cross legged.

“Now, focus all of your energy on the sadness, all of your anger, all of your frustration, all of your pain into a ball. With that ball, force it into your crystal.” He instructed, and you followed suit. The blue of your saber fought against the red hue that was being emitted from your very soul. It wasn’t strong enough, compared to how you felt about those who put you through the worst years of your life. “Concentrate” he kept you grounded. Maul could sense your mind wandering.

The crackling had stopped, and the Kyber crystal was bled. You pulled it to your hand with haste, opening your eyes to look at it. A smirk stretched across your lips. Getting up you walked towards the man who you owed your freedom to, looking into his eyes he noticed the rings of orange and red in replacement to your (e/c).

“I love you Maul, I think I always have” your face came close to his, seeking the same emotion in his gaze. There was a moment of quiet, before his lips made contact with yours. The kiss was soft, tender and warm. With undertones of sickening revenge on his end. Maul pulled away, smiling down at your flushed face.

“I’ve always loved you too, my love”.

———

After a while of Maul teaching you new lightsaber tricks, force abilities that were forbidden by the Jedi code. All the while being the best lover the galaxy ever saw. He gifted you all the necessary things you had left behind, exotic flowers from planets he frequented and took the utmost care of you.

Your training had come to fruition, and your lover had approved you to come with him to fight. You grabbed your bag as you went to his ship, you got on board. As you walked up the ramp you saw Maul sitting in the cockpit. You placed yourself in his lap, folding your legs over each other. He kissed your lips as he took off.

On the way to your destination you had your regular conversations, and sat in comfortable silence. Maul never explained where you were going, but your gut told you that you already knew. Opening your bag you got your device, and when through some information with your lover. This consisted of notes from training, and important information from different groups of people he worked with. Half the time he got lost in your voice and had to get you to repeat yourself. “You are Darth Maul and you’re getting distracted? If the Jedi could see you now!” You laughed

“Of course I’m distracted love, have you seen yourself?” He rubbed your arm gently and held your gaze, which will never not make you blush deep red. “Shut the fuck up” you mumbled under your breath. His throat vibrated with a deep, amused laugh. Kissing your neck as he put the ship into hyperspace. His arm snaked around your waist to keep you from flinging forward, not letting go. This didn’t help your blush in any way.

You had landed at your destination, you were super excited to finally use your new skills and knowledge. Getting up from Maul’s lap, you put your cloak on and made sure your lightsaber was secured to your belt. Maul’s larger hands placed the hood over your head, casting a menacing shadow. “Ready, Darling?” His knuckles caressed your face and with a simple “Yes Master” you followed him out of the ships door.

The gravel beneath your boots was satisfying to your ears, as you approached a Jedi bass camp. Déjà vu hitting you hard, making your body burn with anger. Maul could sense it and refocused your mind, “stay focused Darth (y/n/n)”. Your response was a sharp nod with a small grunt. As you followed him you sensed force users. their signatures leaving a sour taste in the back of your throat. The camp was small, only housing 10 Jedi minimum.

"Wait here my love, you'll know when to come out" he placed a rough kiss to your lips, which you matched perfectly. You stayed behind the stones which hid the camp, choosing to lean against one that was nicely shaded. In your waiting time you practiced your breathing and preformed a brief meditation ritual, connecting to all the Sith Lords and Ladies that came before.

Maul walked up to the Jedi Knights, who were talking strategy around a table. some sitting, some standing and some lying down on the dirt. Their discussion came to a stop as they felt the aura of a threat. All of them got into formation, ready for anything.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen... If you could even call your selves that." his hands reached for the hood of his cloak, and elegantly placed it on his neck. His eyebrows lowered as he recognized all of your main bullies. His anger rising as he remembered all of your anguish and suffering. One, the worst of them all had the gall to speak. "What is the meaning of your intrusion, Darth Maul?" This caused a sinical laugh to come from the depths of his soul.

"Darling! come!" his voiced rasped. You smirked as you started walking, head down facing the dirt ground. Each step you took was an ego boost, while making you feel giddy for your plans to take shape. "The "meaning of my intrusion" is her"

Your steps came to a stop on the right side of his body, your black cloak twirling in the wind. The air became suffocating as your advanced force signature took over the atmosphere. "would you be so kind to introduce yourself my love?"

Raising your head, lowering your hood from your head you made eye contact with the Jedi. Their mouths become agape, shock etched onto their faces within seconds. "(y-y/n)?"

"You thought I was weak, but now I’m back to show you the true meaning of power. Let’s see how you handle the darkness you created."

With that the sound of 3 lightsabers were ignited and blood finally shed.

--------------------------

DONE! I hope you enjoyed it! It's not my best work, but if you feel otherwise then that is great!😂 For both my own indulgence, and research I went to TikTok to watch edits/clips to get a good look into the way his character is written in the movies. I hope I did him justice, and i conveyed what you envisioned! My years of developed creative writing skills finally kicked in a little over half way when i was writing! I'll edit it at some point, but for now I just want it posted. -L🤍

[melodrangea]

Hey I saw you do a Kid with Steins kid, could you do Black star with Steins kid please. I hope you have a good day!!! XOXO

Black Star x Stein!Reader

-dear mother of god

-i mean really? like really?

-the neurodivergent god complex kid?

-alright ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

^Stein's first impression; not impressed, like the above lines are exactly what comes out of his mouth

-i mean he has always made it clear that he would never control who his kids dated

-but he could judge the hell out of them for it

-while Stein knows fully well that Black Star is strong and determined when he wants to be, it's the other 90% of the time that makes him wary

-you seemed to be the opposite of Stein, calmer, more loving, more normal

-and he was concerned that Black Star would be a negative influence on your personality

-Black Star was always sweating bullets when in the same room as Stein

-Stein holding a scalpel; "so what are your intentions with my child?"

-of course you tried to stand up for your boyfriend but your dad was just not impressed

-until you were having a tough time one day, waking up late, failing a test, getting ghosted by friends etc..

-you're calm nature crumbled around you and tears welled in your eyes as you ran to an empty classroom

-Stein was toying with going after your when he saw Black Star follow you in moments later

-worried Black Star would only make you feel worse Stein wen to open the door to the classroom when he heard your laughter inside

-Black Star was telling a crazy story from his meister/weapon classes and making dramatic hand gestures with you comfortably in his lap

-from then on Stein didn't mind Black Star as much

-was he still a moron in his eyes? yes

-but maybe that was just what you needed every once in a while <3

-----------------------------------------------

anyways, i hope that was alright my lovelies!!

sorry it's a little short but I feel like Stein wouldn't hold much animosity against any partner of his kid's unless it was literally excalibur

I love you all so so much and tank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the support

-melodrangea <3

[dankmyfarrik]

Eternal Sunshine | Chapter 8: Happy Is The Blameless

7/21/24 at 5:30pm EST

Summary: An alternate universe where the only thing that happens differently is… well, the Emperor wins. And Luke wakes up with a mysterious scar on his temple.

Read it here: Tumblr | AO3

[unofficialwriting]

Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist! Below the cut you’ll find everything I currently have available. This list is always growing!

✵ Star Wars:

Din Djarin:

Into your arms - 1k

As long as I’m here - 1.2k

Brown eyes - 1k

Little clan - <1k

✵ Wizarding World:

Fred Weasley:

Promise - <1k

Sugar cookies - 2k

She calls me Freddie - series

Remus Lupin:

Off limits - <1k

✵ Lord of the rings:

Elrond:

Sunlight - 1.1k

Gravity - 1.5k

My requests are open! Currently I’m only writing for the characters listed here. However, new fics are added frequently so check back! Send me your ideas, they’re always welcome!

(If you haven’t heard back about a request, don’t worry! I haven’t forgotten you, it’s likely I’m just giving it as much time as it needs to be perfect ♡)

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Incorrect quote

(Y/n) : So do you have a crush on anyone?

Maul : ... What?...

(Y/n) : Do you... Do you like me?

Maul : WE'VE BEEN MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS!

(Y/n) : So you like me?

Maul : *Death glares the love of his life*

[fandomnerd9602]

Reuniting after Infinity War/Endgame

A-Force Headcanon

Toni Stark

You were the first person she saw after being stranded out in space for 21 days. Skinnier and a little emaciated, she couldn’t stop hugging and kissing you. Toni was crying her eyes out over losing her protege Petra.

Stephanie Rogers

You don’t remember much, just waking up on an empty battlefield. You saw a portal open and you were called into aiding your girlfriend on another battlefield. Stephanie didn’t want to miss another moment with you, she proposed a week after.

Thora

You reunited after Thanos’ snap. Thora was overjoyed to see that she still had the love of her life alive. You and he worked to establish New Asgard. She even began discussing the idea of having kids with you.

Bree Banner

You found Bree trying to pull herself out of a damaged Hulkbuster armor. Amidst the dust and debris of the battle, you pulled Bree out of her armor. She collapsed into your arms, first crying and then pulling you into a fiery kiss.

Clara Barton

You looked around your homestead and couldn’t find Clara anywhere. Last you remembered was a family cookout. You called your wife and she answered back with the sound of sobbing. You and your daughter Lila had been gone five years.

Petra Parker

You weren’t dusted. Petra was. You held her tight in your arms when you found each other again. Petra wanted to pull you into a kiss too but she stopped herself upon realizing that you were now in your early twenties. “I turn 18 in a couple months, can you wait?” She asks you with a little shy giggle. You’d wait for her forever if you had to.

Becca Barnes

You and Becca found your ways back to each other after the Snap was undone. Luckily it felt like the blink of an eye due to you both being snapped.

Penni Quill

You, Nebula, and Rocket had held together the Guardians in Penni’s absence. Not a day went by where you weren’t listening to her zune. When you found her again, she practically forced you into yours and hers bedroom, making up for some lost time.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

wait damn it i dont think i was anon making that request so HIYA AGAIN 💀💀 (basically this is just restating my request)

foaming at the mouth for peter quill (per usual) so this is a peter req! so maybe smthn abt reader stealing his shirt/s like hes trying to find one and hes like okay where did all my shirts go and then he sees reader all comfy in his shirt and he just MELTS 🥰

Hopefully you can do this soon, ur like famous so u have like 1000 requests LMAO have a great rest of your week/end!

-🪐

hii again🪐!! and dw you were anon for that request😭😭 this is so stinking cute! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 have a great rest of you week too<3 also wanna know something funny? I have 2 of his tshirts, he left them at mine ;)

sharing is caring

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || none just fluff

masterlist + rules

taglist

There are many great attributes about Quill, and sometimes there are too many to list. But one thing in particular, is his style. Despite his knack for good music and food, there's just something about his clothes that often made you gawk. 

Over the years, Peter has acquired quite the collection of fun and funky t-shirts, most of them bought on various planets as souvenirs after a mission or even as little gifts from you. 

Quill has so many tops that he couldn't possibly have use for every single one, so more often than not, you'd find yourself riffling through his drawers to steal one or five of his t-shirts. His clothes always smell so comforting and homely that you couldn't stop yourself from stealing, even if you wanted to. Your favourite shirts of his are from his slightly chubbier days. They'd feel so soft and comfortable against your skin that you'd often wear them day and night. The bigger the top, the more loved it felt. But you weren't being picky because you loved literally anything he wore. He could wear a trash bag, and as long as it smelt like him, you'd wear that trash bag too.

So today, like any other day, instead of picking your clothes from your side of the closet, you scrounge over to his side, flicking through the hangers to see what you want to wear. 'Happening' upon his grey, long sleeve with white writing, you quickly remove his other t-shirt you were wearing, flinging it across the room into the dirty pile before dressing yourself. Slipping on a pair of joggers, you make your way to the living room, plopping yourself down on the sofa, and wrapping a fluffy blanket over you.

A few short minutes later, Peter is standing in the doorway with a towel draped over his lower half, tiny beads of water covering his chest. "Ahem," he says quietly, a sly smirk on his lips. "Uh- why can't I find any of my clothes?" he asks, sounding like he already knew the answer.

"Maybe they're in the dirty pile," you playfully lie with a deadpan expression, avoiding his gaze. "We haven't done any laundry in a little while. I'm sure there's stuff in there,"

"Hm, okay, right. But the thing is, I was sorta planning on wearing this one top today," sheepishly smiling, ruffling through his wet curls. "Don't suppose you've seen a grey long-sleeve?"

"Nope, haven't seen it," you coyly grin, bringing the blanket to your neck, covering the evidence.

"Yeah?" he hums, making his way over to you. "You sure you haven't seen it?" 

"Nope," you repeat, shaking your head. 

"So if I just..." he says slowly, reaching for the blanket.

You copy him, reaching for his towel, playful eyes as you threaten to tug the fabric down. He looks down at you and shrugs. Grinning. "Do it. I don't care," 

"Okay, alright, fine. I'm wearing it," you cave, ripping away the blanket. "I couldn't help it," you bribe, sweet eyes dancing up at him. 

"How long you been stealing my clothes?" he asks, his tone full of warmth, chuckling.

"Not long," you lie. "But I really can't help it, okay, Pete? It's a problem. I can't stop myself," you say playfully, brushing over your arms as if to show your comfort. "See?"

He stares down at you, his eyes full of admiration. "Yeah? That why I have no clothes left?"

"You have tonnes of clothes. You have so many you didn't even realise they were missing," you say impishly, eyebrows quirking. "They just smell like you," you shrug, a sweet smile on your lips. "You're not mad?"

Shaking his head. "Nah, they look better on you anyway," he grins. "But, have you seen that dark blue one? The one with uh-- the um, light blue circle smile face thing?"

"Maybe... sorry. I wore that the other week," you playfully frown. "But it's clean," you bribe. "I washed it right after. It should be in that pile over there," Pointing.

"Mhmm," he says with squinted eyes and a grin.

He returns half-dressed with the t-shirt in hand, swinging it as he makes his way back to you. "I wanna wear that one," pointing to you. "I wanna smell you," he says quietly, practically inaudible.

"What?" you grin, only hearing fragments. 

"I wanna smell you, now give it," he repeats loud enough for you to hear, his fingers grabbing towards you. "I’m getting cold— look my nipples could cut glass, hurry,"

"But it smells like you," 

He boyishly grins as if he's thought of an idea. He puts on the blue top, rubbing over the fabric as if to transfer his scent before removing it and handing it to you. "Better?"

Sitting up with a smile, you undress from the top, putting on the new one as Peter did the same. He plops down beside you, draping his arm over your shoulder. "You do look cute in my clothes," he grins, kissing your temple.

@annielr @ugh09876554444 @spacetalbot @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser

[91939art]

🌟🌟patreon | commissions🌟🌟

Now that she's a Ravager and he — an honorable five-Star-Lord, could reference back this scene.

Peter used to shoot for stars, you know, if he thought he had a chance then.