avengers x male reader (requests are open)

PETER QUILL

The wind howled like a dying creature across the violet sands of Veridian-6. Sharp gales cut through the air, rustling broken metal and fragments of collapsed outposts. The sky was bruised with swirling ash-colored clouds that flickered with purple lightning.

Peter Quill-Star-Lord, legend (in his own head)-stumbled over a chunk of ruined debris, scanning the terrain through his helmet.

"Rocket," he muttered into his comms. "You sure the distress signal came from here?"

"Signal don't lie, Quill," Rocket's voice crackled in. "Not my fault if you're too distracted by the wind to spot anything."

"I'm not distracted," Peter grumbled. "I just don't wanna get struck by alien lightning again."

Gamora's voice broke in, calm and sharp. "Just find the source, Peter. We don't leave people behind. Not even ones dumb enough to get stranded here."

"Copy that," Peter sighed.

The scanner beeped, alerting him to an organic life form twenty meters to the east. Peter quickened his pace over the uneven terrain until something-someone-caught his eye.

There, sprawled half-buried in sand and surrounded by what looked like the remnants of a personal escape pod, was a figure. Motionless.

"Shit," Peter muttered, rushing forward.

Minutes Later - Inside the Benatar's Med Bay

The figure-you-were still unconscious. Dust streaked your face and your suit was torn, but your chest rose and fell steadily now, thanks to the life support and heat blanket draped over you.

Peter hovered nearby, arms crossed, frowning in thought.

"Looks like he's been out there for a few days," Rocket muttered, checking vitals. "Dehydrated. Minor injuries. But he'll live."

Peter raised a brow. "No ID on him?"

"Nothin' in the wreckage. No insignia, no communicator. No weapon, even."

Gamora stepped in beside Peter. "Whoever he is... we should keep an eye on him. People don't end up on Veridian-6 by accident."

Peter nodded. But he didn't move. Not for a long moment.

His eyes lingered on your face, and he frowned again-this time, softer. "Yeah... I'll keep an eye on him."

Hours Later - Med Bay

Your eyelids fluttered open. Dim lights. Metallic hums. The scent of sterilization and distant engine thrum.

You turned your head, groaning at the stiffness in your neck-and met a pair of warm hazel eyes.

"Hey, hey-easy," Peter said, leaning in. "You're safe. You're on my ship. The Benatar."

Your throat was dry, but your voice cracked out, "W-Who the hell are you?"

"Peter Quill," he said with a soft smile. "Or Star-Lord. Whichever makes you feel cooler about being rescued."

You blinked. "I don't know what that means."

Peter's smile dropped a little. "Ouch. You might actually be concussed if you don't know me."

You tried to sit up, but your muscles trembled. Peter moved quickly, grabbing a water pack from the nearby tray and holding it to your lips.

You drank greedily. Then fell back against the pillow.

"You found me," you said quietly, as if piecing the words together in real time. "How?"

"Distress beacon," he said. "Though honestly, I wasn't expecting to find you. What's your name?"

You hesitated. Then finally, softly: "[Y/N]."

Peter watched you closely. "Mind telling me what you were doing on a dead planet alone in a busted pod?"

"I... I don't know," you admitted. "I remember... an explosion. A ship. I think it was attacked. But I don't know who. Or why."

Peter's brows knit together. "Memory loss?"

"I guess," you said bitterly. "Lucky me."

There was a long silence. You looked away. The last thing you wanted was pity.

But Peter's voice was low when he spoke next. "I've been stranded before. Didn't know which way was up. Felt like the universe wanted me gone."

You glanced back at him, surprised.

He shrugged. "But look at me now. Space outlaw. Mediocre dancer. Hero, sometimes."

You gave a small laugh, dry but real. "Thanks for the save... Star-Lord."

Peter grinned. "Knew you'd come around."

Days Later - Benatar Lounge

Recovery was slow. You limped through the ship, slowly regaining strength and pieces of your memory. Still no full answers, but... being here felt strangely okay.

And Peter? Peter became a constant presence.

He brought you weird food combinations, played Earth music from a strange device he called a "Zune," and told you stories that sounded too crazy to be real-but you believed them anyway.

"You ever dance?" he asked one evening, holding out a hand.

You blinked. "What?"

"C'mon," he coaxed. "Can't recover without a little joy. Basic space rule."

You took his hand, a little unsure. "I'm not really in shape to dance."

Peter tugged you closer, smiling. "Then just lean on me."

The music was soft. The ship dimmed around you both. And you let your head rest against his shoulder as you swayed, painfully aware of the way his arms felt around you.

"You keep looking at me like that," you muttered, "I'll start thinking you're into me."

Peter leaned down, his voice brushing against your ear. "What if I am?"

Your breath hitched.

"Then you better not disappear," you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed someone when they said it.