100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Words Change Everything >> Peter Quill X Reader

Title: Words Change Everything

Paring: Peter Quill X Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, fight scenes, and danger. Also fluff, angst (the usual)

Spoilers: I mention things, but not specific things. Be careful if you have not seen Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2 

Requested by: ashraddant 

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You were alone in your bunk, your feet hooked into the ceiling boards firmly, dangling from the roof. You did this often to de-stress, and as the only Guardian who had naturally the ability to fly (well, you could jump abnormally well, but flying sounded cooler) you were often to perch in places anyone else would shy away from. The stress of the day was not over something trivial, like how Groot often left places stained with chlorophyll (an easy fix), or how Drax would sneak your food from the common area and try to eat it in front of you (okay, that wasn't trivial, and if the Destroyer did that one more time, you'd knock him into next week).

No.

Peter Quill knew you were a capable fighter. A good warrior. A valuable member of the team, who kept the order of the Galaxy along with the rest of the gang.

You felt like you had always had your abilities, and while your sister Jessica had been sent to live with the rich Walker family, you had been shipped away, never to see her again. While she got to grow up as a normal teenager, you were given to HYDRA, who manipulated you until you were stronger than the two teens you were locked away with. They sent you in missiles to test your durability, crashing you into places to impact war, but see if they could breed 'a one-woman military'. You killed the crew who were to send you to crash into the Saharan Desert, and because of that, you were instead shot into space for lack of coordinates.

Nova Corps had saved you, and adopted in by the Guardians, you worked hard to undo the things that they had made you do, what they had driven you to do. You were only young, though – and redemption did not come easy, nor smoothly. You had plenty of saving the galaxy to do before the blood was cleansed from your hands.

Which led you to what made you climb up and hang upside down by your toes. It was a non-violent way to meditate, and with the somewhat lack of gravity in your room (a request you made to keep flexible on un Terran-like planets), and kept you from grabbing handfuls of your teammate, and boyfriend's hair and pulling at it.

He knew you were a capable fighter, and yet, he had side-lined you for simple quests while the firefight was going on planetside. Your eyes were closed, and yet, you could sense a presence in the doorway of your room, and without looking, you slid your feet from their place, and landed upon them with ease.

It was only then you looked to see who was there, and upon seeing, scoffed, and turned away. Peter Quill stood there, his quad blasters at his side, hair mussed from battle, breathless and slightly dirtied from his bout with aggravated alien lifeforms. But all of that was seen in half a second, and now you looked at the décor of your bunk room – which was sparse – instead of his dorky face.

"Since when am I not an equal to everyone else?" You demand, still staring at the blank walls of the wall behind your bed. You heard Peter hesitate, taking time to decide whether to confront your evident anger, but taking a step toward you, you feel a hand placed upon your shoulder. You move your shoulder as to allow his hand to fall off, and face him. "Don't touch me until you tell me your answer. You know about what I've done, Star-Prince," you mock. "Tell. Me."