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five-hxrgreeves · 11 months

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An Unexpected Plan

PAIRING: loki laufeyson x reader

POWERS: none

WC: 2.6

SUMMARY: As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, it was safe to say that you had seen a lot of strange things in your day. Glowing cubes from space, aliens and planetary-scale Armageddons were considered just another day at the office. However, the opening of the multiverse means infinite possibilities, including some that you’d never expect.

WARNINGS: possibly ooc Loki? (this is my first time writing him.)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: So this is based off the post-credit scene in Ant Man: Quantumania for the sneak peek of the Loki series s2. I actually have s1 written on Wattpad with an OC (called Everybody Wants to Rule the World if you want to check it out!), but since Tumblr likes x reader more, I took out the oc. This was an idea I’ve had since I watched s1 so I finally just decided to write a one-shot of it. It may not be accurate to the rest of s2 once it’s released since I just made up some stuff around the 3-second clip that we got.

As a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, it was safe to say that you had seen a lot of strange things in your day. From glowing space cubes of unknown origin to aliens trying to take over New York, the realm of what you considered impossible had broadened over the years. Your considerably high rank as a field agent had allowed you to experience some of these things first hand, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was more so the latter now as you’d been tasked with keeping the notorious trickster God of mischief from living up to his name. Luckily, you were well-equipped for the job— and more than just in the weapons department; you had the uncanny ability to see through lies. (This proved to be exceptionally helpful in an organization whose secrets had secrets.)

However, it was only after more than a decade of service that you were finally thinking that maybe you had bitten off more than you could chew. The God of Mischief had certainly earned his title; in an unforeseen turn of events, he’d gotten his hands on the Tesseract a second time and, before he could whisk himself away to who-knew-where to wreak more havoc, you’d latched onto his arm at the last second to join him for the spin as well. (At least nobody could ever say that you weren’t dedicated to your work.) After that, things had taken a turn for the worse and you’d both been taken to a mysterious time agency and had narrowly escaped death. (Well, maybe death was still on the table— your inevitable end had just been postponed.)

Needless to say, you and Loki hadn’t started out as the best of friends. When you weren’t trying to kill each other (verbally, at least), you glared at one another in sulky silences. But, as they say, trauma draws people together. Somewhere along the line between the end of the world and multiple variations of yourselves, you’d become something akin to. . . acquaintances? Allies? Not necessarily friends, but bonded by enough strange events to have a tentative trust with each other. You were almost certain that Loki wanted more from your relationship, but you hadn’t really forgiven him for what he’d done in New York and besides— whoever heard of a mortal and a God getting a good ending?

Now, however, none of that really seemed to matter; being displaced from your timeline certainly held a bigger threat than whatever was going on between the two of you. After your world-shattering revelation that the statue in the TVA’s library was no longer of three space lizards, but Kang himself you scrambled for answers and solutions. In a desperate attempt to understand the new situation you were in, you’d gotten the new-Mobius’ help of locating (a) Kang in this present timeline, which happened to be in the Victorian Era.

Although the three of you were hidden in shadows in the back of the theater where Kang’s presentation was taking place, your instincts were on high alert. The past few days? (Months?) had taught you that nothing was as it seemed. Even if Kang was currently pretending that he hadn’t seen your little group, you knew not to underestimate him. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to flee the theater at a moment’s notice if necessary. If you were less of an agent and more of a civilian, you might have even grabbed Loki’s hand— which was only inches from yours in the cramped space— as an expression of the fear that you currently felt. (While you were a seasoned veteran and had seen much in your day, any sane person who knew what Kang was capable of would be scared of him.) Loki seemed to share your trepidation as his eyes never left the enigmatic presenter.

Mobius spoke in a whisper from the God’s other side: “you made him sound like this terrifying figure!”

Neither you nor Loki took your attention away from the man at the front of the room as you replied in sync, “he is.”

As if he’d heard your quiet conversation, Kang’s— in this timeline called Victor— gaze snapped to where you were standing. Although his expression didn’t change and he continued to speak to the crowd, you felt an icy wash of fear trickle down your spine. Instinctively, your weight shifted forward to your toes as you prepared to flee, knowing it wouldn’t be good if Kang or any of his variations caught you as he surely intended to.

You exchanged a glance with Loki, almost one of the same mind after you’d experienced meeting He Who Remains the first time. For Mobius’ benefit, the God breathed out: “run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; the three of you (after some prompting to get the TVA agent moving) pushed your way as calmly— but also hurriedly— as possible through the crowd to reach the doors. While there wasn’t anyone visibly chasing after you yet, you knew better than to be fooled by the appearance of peace. Once you’d reached the busy London street, you exchanged a look with the men. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you gave one word of warning: “if we get split up, good luck.”

Then, you broke into the fastest run you could considering the crowds of people, animals and carts that went about their daily business. (How nice it would be to not be aware of the multiverse, time travel, interdimensional threats. . . but you consoled yourself that you’d probably become too bored with such a quiet life.) Unsurprisingly, Loki was able to keep pace with you pretty easily— considering he was a God who had to match your extensive training— but Mobius seemed to struggle, especially with dodging obstacles. That was fine, though (as mean as that sounded), since Kang wasn’t after him.

As you ran at a (mostly) steady pace through the winding London streets, cries and shouts began to sound from behind you— it seemed that Kang and his variants were giving the chase. You blocked out the sounds as you focused on running; one foot in front of the other, arms swinging, bent, by your sides, breaths even: in, out, in, out. You ran as you’d been trained to do: for your life. You were so focused on staying ahead of the Kangs that you even lost track of your “running partner” as Loki seemed to fall out of your peripheral vision.

You rounded a corner, and then another, and then— a hand reached out to grab your arm. If given the choice between fight or flight, your always chose the former; you reacted instantly, kicking out with your feet as you attempted to put your attacker in a headlock to take them down.

It was only after a couple seconds of struggling (why wouldn’t this peasant man go down? Didn’t they eat a diet of potatoes and gruel?), you finally registered the man’s protests: “whoa, hey! It’s me— it’s me!”

You let go to eye him suspiciously. In a flash of green, Loki’s familiar form appeared and you let out a sigh of relief which (as it usually was when it came to him) was quickly followed by irritation. “Okay, what the hell? I know you’re the fricken’ God of Mischief and all, but is now really a time to pull tricks?”

“It’s not a trick,” he reassured you. “Well, perhaps it is, in a sense— we can disguise ourselves and blend in, get them off our tail.”

The disguise of a peasant man returned, complete with grubby clothes and matted hair. You curled your lips in disgust. “Far cry from being an Asgardian prince, huh?” you mocked him. “And besides, there’s two flaws to that brilliant plan: one, what about me? I don’t have magic, so pulling me aside to tell me this is just a waste of time. And second, I’m pretty sure Kang the Conqueror can see through something this. . . elementary.”

The peasant man scowled at you, displeased by your jabs. “This is genius, first of all. Before you go touting that you know all about magic, mortal, I can share illusions. Doesn’t your super-secret special agent school teach you self-preservation, or are you willing to take the chance and outrun an impossible amount of Kangs?”

You pursed your lips, weighing your options. As much as you hated to admit it, Loki was right; taking a chance on him was probably better then depending on your running abilities. (Although, to be fair, you were a pretty good runner.) You matched his annoyed expression and crossed your arms against your chest. “Fine, we’ll do it your way— but for the record, my father taught me self-preservation.”

The God smirked at you in that irritating way of his and extended his arm towards you. “Take my hand.”

You watched him skeptically for a moment, remembering how he’d openly admitted to flirting with you in the hours before you’d confronted the Void. As you hesitated— your fatal flaw— you listened for your pursuers and heard faint shouts from their rough interactions with the common people. They were still some distance away, but not comfortable enough to completely forego Loki’s plan. You sighed and— with as much distain as you could muster— took the God’s hand.

There wasn’t anything immediately different about your appearance; when you looked down, you could still see your now-worn combat gear and dusty boots. However, when you looked over at the man next to you, you no longer saw a peasant man; Loki was back to being his infuriating (ahem, handsome) self. You frowned in confusion as you lifted your hand, turning it back and forth to try and see the difference.

“You don’t see the illusion when you’re in it,” he explained with an impossible amount of smugness. “I can assure you, however, that we look as much the same as the rest of this doldrum crowd.”

You gave him a curt nod. “Fine,” you said again. “Let’s try to get out of here, shall we?”

They made their way back onto the main street, looking just the same as the rest of the passers-by. To the rest of the common people, they merely looked like a peasant couple holding hands, out for a nice stroll. Speaking of— “shouldn’t we run?” you asked, looking over your shoulder. Although you couldn’t see the Kangs because of the crush of people, you knew they were there.

“That would draw attention to us,” Loki replied evenly, keeping the steady pace. “All parts of the illusion must be convincing for it to work.”

So, as much as all of your instincts screamed at you to run, you forced yourself to match his steps. Thankfully, the busy city was too noisy to have conversation, otherwise you might have strangled Loki right on the street. (Okay, maybe you weren’t at each other’s throats as often anymore, but he still annoyed the hell out of you.)

It happened suddenly: one moment, you were walking along with Loki at a brisk pace, and the next a man with a golden pharaoh’s headdress appeared next to them. His dark, intense eyes swept the area as he mercilessly pushed carts and people out of his way. Your grip on Loki’s hand tightened in warning, causing the God to look down at you. You jerked your head to the dark-skinned man dressed in gold. His eyes followed your motion and widened before he quickly looked away. Neither of you spoke since the illusion wouldn’t disguise your voice, but your pace picked up slightly.

The next few minutes were very tense as you waited to see if Loki’s illusions would work. It seemed as if the Kang in the Egyptian-styled clothes was tailing you. Loki knew that his magic could only do so much; to the well-trained eye, a very faint glimmer of green could still be seen. They needed to make their illusion even more believable; to do something so out of the ordinary— something that was entirely ordinary, actually— that it would convince even the keenest of observers (which surely Kang was.)

The idea came to him in an instant, causing his chest to fill with warmth. While this would certainly not be his first kiss, it would be his first kiss with you. (And, if he were being uncharacteristically honest, it might be his only chance.) Loki glanced at the Agent out of the corner of his eye, knowing how poorly such a proposal would be received. But, this was a viable suggestion to get the Kangs away from them. So, he tugged the woman next to him to a stop.

You turned to look at the God with an irritated expression. “Need a break, do you?”

Loki was looking down at you intently, his emerald gaze holding yours. Perhaps for the first time, he ignored your dig. “Kiss me.”

Not sure if you heard him right, you stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he repeated, a little more urgently. He glanced up at the Egyptian Kang who still lingered nearby. He lowered his voice as he hastily explained, “he suspects us. No one looks twice at two people kissing.”

“You’re cra— mmph,” your furious retort was cut off as he placed his lips on yours.

Again, your first impulse was to run, but this time for a different reason. It had been a long time since you’d kissed anyone— since your last love had ended in disaster. You’d vowed to never let anyone this close again after that, but here you were, allowing the God of Mischief to kiss you on a busy street. People brushed past you and jostled you, but Loki’s hands lightly held your arms, keeping you in place. You still had half a mind to push him away and ask what the hell was he thinking, but the other half of your thoughts registered how. . . good of a kisser he was.

You supposed that over a thousand years of practice certainly had its benefits. His lips were soft but insistent on yours, there was just enough tongue movement to make your stomach swoop (the traitor) and although you would deny it if asked, you could feel the electricity zip through you from the action. Just as your shock wore off enough to really kiss him back, Loki pulled away, his gaze flicking over your head to watch the crowd.

“He’s gone,” the God said with relief. Once he’d assessed that the danger had passed, he looked down at you with a smirk. “For someone who claims to hate me so much, I expected you to slap me instead of kiss me.”

You glared at him, any semblance of warmth that had come from the kiss disappearing as quickly as mist in the sun. “That can still be arranged.”

He gave you a shit-eating grin and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, Agent. Tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

You shoved his arm away and turned to resume your path through the crowd, your head held high. “I didn’t. Let’s go find Mobius. Hopefully he hasn’t gotten trampled by a stray horse or something.”

Since you’d already refocused on the mission at hand, you missed the way the God’s smug expression faltered slightly at your stout rejection. It only lasted for a fraction of a second before he quickly recovered and hurried to catch up with you. Grabbing your wrist, he added, “we should still keep our disguises up, just in case.”

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five-hxrgreeves · 11 months

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im dYIIIINGGGG with the adam warlock x quill sister! when he calls her 'little quill'??? with that accent of his??? so soft and husky??? im screaming at my phone dude aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need part iii right freaking now!!!

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

POWERS: adapted from D.C.'s Stargirl, although in this instance, the powers are a part of you and the staff just helps you use them.

WC: 1.9k (woo a shorter one this time!)

SUMMARY: your first meeting with Adam wasn't one that indicated that you'd become friends anytime soon. Your second meeting. . . wasn't great either. But, somewhere along the line, you would develop a soft spot for the curious man-child.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, badly written original fight scene, possibly ooc canon!guardians.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OMG!!! This is my first-ever inbox message- thank you, anon! You made my day with this <3 I love Adam's/Will's accent; I definitely hope that we get to see (and hear) more of him in other Marvel movies. As requested, here's part three (even if it's technically part zero, lol.) I do take requests if anyone wants to send me stuff! (I just won't write smut, sorry!)

I hope you guys enjoy this part, although I'm not very confident about it since I'm terrible at writing fight scenes. It's hard enough for me to imagine original content (like the other two parts) but scenes where people move around a lot without the movie itself to rely on are very difficult for me because my mind doesn't think in pictures, but in words and I don't know how to describe fighting. I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other parts. 😭

And on a side note, the 'no shit, Captain Sherlock' is another reference to space people messing up Terran lingo :)

Part 1 , Part 2

You were admittedly not in the best mood when you first (officially) met Adam. Peter and Mantis had left only days ago, leaving you to sort out your feelings alone. You were currently in the training room, fueling your sadness into anger at their abandonment. You often used your powers to aid you while you were fighting, but they weren’t much use during everyday life— unless you wanted to fly. Now, however, they were very useful.

Brilliant blasts of golden light shot out from the staff that your hands gripped tightly. While your powers could be used without aid, the staff helped you control them; Ego had made it for you when you’d become old enough to serve as his protector. Although you were disgusted with the weapon’s origins, you couldn’t help but agree that it made your fighting much more effective.

Each of your blasts hit the targets squarely in the middle as you turned deftly to conquer the row. A scowl was prominent on your face as you pictured each of your targets as Peter’s or Mantis’ face. (While you would never really want to hurt them, of course, the sting of their desertion fueled your thoughts.) You were listening to a playlist by the Rage Against the Machine— which you had chosen solely because of the band’s name as it mirrored your feelings. The music that was blasting in your ears was so loud that, if someone had been standing next to you, they could have heard the lyrics as if they were wearing your headphones themselves.

As you moved up and down the line of targets, you were unaware of the audience of three that had entered the room. Groot, Rocket and Adam stopped by the entrance to watch you unleash your fury against whatever enemy you were envisioning. The new leader of the Guardians gestured to you. “There. See? I told you she’s nice.”

Adam hesitated, clearly uncertain. “She looks mad.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Shut up,” Rocket retorted, glaring slightly at the tree who was supposed to be helping his case. “She won’t hurt goldie. You’ve already seen her bad side, haven’t you? This is nuthin’.”

The golden boy had to admit that Rocket was right; he remembered only too well his first encounter with you as you’d jumped in to help your friends fight off his unexpected attack.

He’d just defeated the stupid tree-like thing and as it scuttled away like a demented spider, the faint sound of a whistle pierced through the air. An arrow shot out of nowhere, harmlessly bouncing off his skin and only annoying him more than anything else. He looked around sharply, but there didn’t seem to be anyone brave enough to fight him in the vicinity. “Hey! Who threw that?”

He scoffed when there was no answer, stalking towards where he’d last seen his target. But before he could get very far, a force came out of nowhere— this time much stronger than an errant arrow. It knocked him off his feet like a bullet and together they were sent flying through the town, which elicited more cries of fear from the citizens.

He landed harshly against a building that got in the way and debris fell on top of him from the force of the collision. Adam grunted irritably; this was the second time during this fight that his enemy thought that throwing him into a building would be enough to deter his attack— didn’t they ever learn? He stood and shook the dust off his clothes before he strode back out to the street to face this new opponent. Except— it wasn’t the same blue person from before.

The golden boy stared at the other person with disbelief, the only thing that he could come up with was: “you’re a girl!”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Captain Sherlock.” She twirled the staff in her hands expertly between her fingers before she set the butt down on the ground. It glowed softly as it lit up with her power, her face set. “Let’s do this thing.”

Adam had no qualms about fighting a girl, so they charged at each other without hesitation. He thought she’d be as easy to take down as her teammates but when they collided, she merely used her staff as a shield against his attack. They paced across the open space as they exchanged blows, the girl using her staff offensively and defensively interchangeably. As she flipped neatly out of the way of one of his advances, he began to see how evenly matched they were.

“You are stalling,” he realized. “If you just hand over your friend, we would not have to fight.”

The girl paused, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case—”

She charged at him again, her staff catching on his uniform. She followed him into the air and her swift kick to his stomach sent him tumbling away from her. It was then that he realized that she could fly— just like him— and that was what had powered her initial attack. In the time it took for him to recover from the spin, a blast of golden light was sent his way. Because of his more durable skin, though, the light only felt like volts of electricity rather than something that could do actual damage. The most effective part of her power was the blast itself, which he had to fight through to get closer to her.

Now that he knew where her power came from, he made to attack her staff in order to knock it out of her hands. She seemed to sense his plan— Adam figured most people she fought went this route— and she countered this by trying to fly above him to push him towards the ground. He responded by grabbing the staff in her hands directly while she was mid-swing. The girl was tiring slightly, her breath becoming shorter as the fight went on and she was now on the defensive.

She tried to yank her staff loose from his hold but as evenly matched as they were, he was still stronger. The girl then attempted to shake him off by lighting the staff up with her power. If he hadn’t been such a strong opponent, the golden light would have burned through his hands. As it was, the little volts were barely something that he registered. While he could have easily swung the staff to send her flying off the end and into the ground, he held back the true show of his strength as she didn’t seem to be as resilient as the two blue people or the tree.

Instead, he tried once more for the diplomatic route: “you have fought valiantly for your little friend. If you surrender him to me now I will leave your village in peace.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with fury as she continued to fight to free her weapon. “Go to hell!”

Adam sighed, having partially expected that response. “Very well. Have it your way, then.”

He smoothly jerked the staff from her grasp and carelessly tossed it to send the weapon spiraling towards the ground. He turned back towards the girl to finish her off as he had her teammates, but he paused. She seemed to hang, suspended, in the air as time appeared to freeze around her. Her eyes widened and, for the first time since he’d encountered her, a look of fear appeared on her face.

Then, she dropped like a stone.

They were very high off the ground by this point and the fall would likely kill a normal being. He wasn’t sure if she would survive, so his reflexes kicked in before he could really think about what he was doing.

By now, the shock had worn off and she fell through the air, she reached up to him as he was the only person who could help her. Adam put on a spurt of speed to try and catch her but she was falling faster than he had anticipated. The girl slammed into the ground and lay still just as he landed next to her. He told himself that saving her wasn’t his mission, and her incapacitation only made obtaining his goal easier. His mother’s orders echoed in his mind, so against his instinct he turned away from her in pursuit of the squirrel.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you. You whirled around with your staff in a defensive position only to be met with the sight of your teammates. With a sigh, you pulled out one earbud but didn’t pause your music.

“What?” you asked shortly.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Little Quill. I’m ya superior now,” Rocket replied, unaffected by your attitude. “I wanted you to meet golden boy here.”

You gave Adam a once-over, ignoring how the sight of his. . . attractive features made your stomach curl pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, feeling once again ashamed of his previous actions. Before he could say anything, Rocket spoke again, adjusting the straps of his jumpsuit as he did so: “well, I ain’t great with humie ages, but I figured ya’d be about the same. I thought it might boost team morale to see ya two hangin’ out together or whatever humies your age do.”

While your first response was to dismiss the whole endeavor— you didn’t want to get close to someone else just to have them leave you, too— but a small, traitorous part of your mind whispered: he saved your brother. Another part chimed in: he’s not bad to look at.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “He can stay, but he better not get in my way. I’m not stopping my training because of him.”

“That’s the spirit, Little Quill,” your captain said, choosing to not acknowledge your reluctance. “I’ll leave ‘im in your hands. Let’s go, Groot.”

As you shoved the earbud back in your ear, you could faintly hear Adam’s protest: “wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

While Rocket’s reply was drowned out by your music, the boy’s words hit you unexpectedly; it sounded just like your response to Peter’s and Mantis’ disinclination to stay with the Guardians. Some of your anger faded as you glanced at the boy who stood awkwardly in your periphery. Despite all of his strength and power, Adam looked a bit like a lost puppy and his expression made your features soften against your will. Fine. Whatever. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.

You took out an earbud again. “Well, don’t just stand there. I know you can fight, so let’s see you use those skills.”

At the reminder of your first encounter, he sent you a guilty look. As he stepped up next to you, he said quietly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. For almost killing you.”

You patted him on the arm companionably. “Hey, no hard feelings. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, so just add your name to the list.”

All of the Guardians had forgiven him with surprising readiness and it seemed like you were no different— only, you were. His gaze stayed on the spot where your hand had touched him. There was a lingering warmth as if your hand was still there, the sensation sending tingles (not unlike the ones that he felt during your blasts of power) through him.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs , @trashpenguin

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock #adam warlock fanfiction #adam warlock imagine #gotg v3 #guardians of the galaxy #gotg imagine #adam warlock x you #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #will poulter x reader #will poulter #will poulter imagine #marvel x reader

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five-hxrgreeves · 1 year

Text

Two Positives Equal a Negative (Or Something Like That)

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

WC: 2.8k (again, a long one. I just can’t seem to write anything short!)

SUMMARY: you’ve always had trouble sleeping thanks your numerous (unfortunate) life experiences. While he hasn’t lived as long as you have, Adam has a similar problem. Fortunately, a Terran phrase that your brother taught you might have the solution that you seek.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay, so I accidentally lied and I realized that my last one-shot wasn’t my first official one; I wrote a Natasha x reader several years ago. I just don’t post on here that often so I forgot about it, lol. Anyway, Adam Warlock currently has a chokehold on me so here’s another one-shot for him- the sequel that I mentioned on the last one. I’m tempted to write a Gally one/two-shot, but I’m not familiar with the TMR universe so I’m worried that I’d mess it up.

Also, I know that the phrase is actually ‘two negatives equal a positive,’ but I was drawing on the fact that non-Terrans wouldn’t really remember/understand Peter’s references, and since ‘you’ had only been to Earth during Endgame, you it mixed up.

Part 0 , Part 1

You’d always had trouble sleeping, especially on your father’s planet. There had just been a sense of. . . wrongness that you didn’t need Mantis’ empath powers to feel. It had made you on edge most of the time, alert for the unseen danger that you felt. While this might’ve just been your role as Ego’s protector speaking, you knew that your sister felt similarly. Mantis had once offered to put you to sleep using her powers, which you’d agreed to. Although it had worked, you hadn’t liked the feeling of your emotions being messed with, or the vulnerability that came with sleep. Even though you trusted that your sister wouldn’t hurt you, Ego was a different story entirely.

So, that meant that you were up most of the time with only catnaps and snatches of sleep when absolutely necessary. (Luckily your enhanced stamina helped in this case so it wasn’t terribly detrimental to your wellbeing.) It was hard to hide your unusual sleep patterns on the Milano with your new friends since there wasn’t space to walk around like there had been on Ego’s planet. But the Guardians all had various traumas of their own, so they understood the difficulty of getting peaceful rest. Some nights had even been better than others as Peter would teach you how to play Terran card games, which would then include the rest of the Guardians once you’d learned.

You also liked to sit in the pilot’s chair late at night and watch the darkness of space light up around you. It was funny, really; everyone expected space to be a dark, black vacuum of nothing when it was actually just the opposite. Sure, there was no physical form of life, but space was alive in its own way. As the Milano sailed aimlessly through the stars, you’d pass the orange-red clouds of dust and gas— nebulas. Or the brilliant white-blue of a dying star, or the different hues of blue-black that surrounded you. Space was truly beautiful, which was something that you never tried to take for granted.

But now you were stuck on Knowhere. There were no brilliant colors of space to distract you or friends to play card games with. Mantis was gone— your only source of comfort on those long nights when you’d served your father. You were alone, with nothing but a Zune to distract you as you sat, bored, in the kitchen late into the night. You’d decided on some calmer tunes and were currently listening to the Frank Sinatra playlist you’d curated. A warm mug of tea— which Peter had also introduced you to— sat between your hands as your eyes glazed over, getting lost in your music.

As it turned out, Adam wasn’t that great of a sleeper, either. It always felt like there was too much energy running through him to be properly restful— not to mention that, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother waiting for him as he flew desperately towards her. And then the explosion would come, jolting him out of sleep as a reminder of his failure.

With a sigh, he pushed back his covers and stood. Since he was already dressed (his mother had always told him to be ready for anything), he made his way to the kitchen where he’d baked cookies with you. It hadn’t been that long ago, but he already missed the comfortable, homey feeling he’d gotten as he formed the batter into spheres with you standing at his side. You had yet to talk to Rocket about how his comments made you feel, but he knew it was because you respected your teammate and didn’t like making a big deal out of things. Thinking about you now, he sort of hoped that he would see you in the kitchen when he got there— but that was a crazy thought; it was the middle of the night! Any normal person would be in a deep sleep by now.

So, it was definitely a pleasant surprise when he came upon you, sitting at the head of the table. Your earbuds were in your ears, as usual, and you seemed to be deep in thought as you absentmindedly traced the rim of your mug with your finger. He was comfortable enough with you to approach you without hesitation, so he took the chair next to yours and nudged you gently to get your attention.

You jumped, startled by the unexpected presence of someone else in the room. At first you had a wild thought that it might be Peter, who came to keep you company as he often had. You were only mildly disappointed to see that it was Adam instead (and this was just because you missed your brother; you were actually quite happy to see the golden boy.) You took out your earbuds and paused your music. “You’re up late. Or early.”

His golden eyes met yours— something you noticed that he did often; it seemed that eye contact was his way of showing that he was listening to you, which always made your stomach flutter pleasantly. “So are you,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “You?”

“Me either,” he agreed.

You sat in a comfortable silence together, one so long that you were almost tempted to put your earbuds back in. Maybe this was a one-off thing; you’d never seen him before on your sleepless nights. Maybe he wasn’t used to being up at this hour and just wasn’t as talkative as he normally was with you. But you were also curious; what could a supposedly perfect being be troubled with at night? So, you sighed, and against your better judgement (as you hated to talk about your feelings), you asked, “wanna talk about it?”

But Adam also knew how you were, and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind just sitting here.” He got to enjoy your company, after all, so he considered tonight to be better than most.

You let out another sigh. As much as you hated getting touchy-feely, the night was already very boring; sitting and not talking would only make it worse. “I don’t mind, actually. I’m used to being around other people when I’m up like this. Talking would make the time pass faster.” You studied his expression for a moment, which was unusually unreadable; it always seemed like he had a kind smile or glance to send your way. “We can start off easy, if you want. Are you up like this every night?”

His expression softened at your willingness to go outside your comfort zone, so he answered honestly. (He had nothing that he wanted to hide from you, anyway.) “Most nights, yeah. What about you?”

“Same,” you agreed. You played with the rubber protective tip on your earbud. “Can’t get to sleep or bad dreams?”

“Both,” Adam admitted. “Although it’s usually the first one.”

You nodded. “Same, again, but for me it’s mostly the latter. You remember when I said that you weren’t the first person to try and kill me?” At his confirmation (because how could he have forgotten that?), you continued, “yeah. It’s mostly that. My father was a great parent,” you finished sarcastically.

When you’d first become friends, you’d shared stories about the Guardians’ adventures— even the ones that had happened before you’d joined the team— although they’d mostly been lighthearted in tone. You’d acted like they hadn’t really affected you and had laughed at the fact that your father’s planet had tried to swallow you whole. Adam sort of wished that your father was still alive so he could fight him for you. While his mother had had her moments of parenting issues, he’d never doubted that she did love him; it was clear that this wasn’t the case with your father.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not really sure what else he could say. Despite everything that had happened to you, you were still a good person; you hadn’t fought the Guardians on your first meeting like he had, which already made you better than him. He wished that there was something he could do (such as getting revenge for you) to help ease whatever burden you were feeling as you often had for him, but there didn’t seem like there was anything that he could do.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied in a blasé tone, already moving on from your heavy things. “Want to talk about your stuff?”

He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable to admit his failure to you. He wanted to prove that he was just as capable as you were, and this was one of his worst moments. “I. . . keep thinking about my mother.” His gaze dropped to where his hands were folded on the table, unable to watch your reaction in case you thought worse of him. “How I. . . wasn’t able to save her. I was so close, too. If only I’d been faster—”

You reached out a hand to put it on top of both of his, cutting him off. Yours was much smaller in comparison, barely covering even one of his hands. He looked up at you with surprise, feeling his face heat up at the contact. Your usually jovial expression was uncharacteristically serious as you chided him gently, “stop. Thinking like that never helps, you know. You’ll drive yourself mad if you keep wondering ‘what if.’ I should know.”

While he was relieved that his fears about your reaction were unfounded, he frowned at your last words. “What do you mean?”

You pretended not to notice that your hands were still holding his as you answered, “remember what I told you about the Snap?” At his nod, you continued, “Peter and I were the only ones who weren’t trying to subdue Thanos. My powers are mostly defensive, so they would only anger him, which was the opposite of what we were trying to do. Peter got— understandably— distraught at the news of Gamora’s death and he was practically solely responsible for the Snap.” You sighed heavily, dropping your gaze from him. “As the only other person not doing anything on that planet, I could’ve stopped him, but he was my brother; I couldn’t hurt him. But if I had. . . everything could’ve been so much different. In a way, I was responsible for the Snap, too.”

While he understood your reasoning, he didn’t completely agree with it. You’d filled him in with great detail about the Infinity War, which you’d only learned the missing parts after you’d been brought back. So, he insisted quietly, “Thor could’ve also gone for Thanos’ head, but he didn’t.”

“But Thanos wouldn’t have even gotten to the Terran planet if we’d stopped him on Titan. You see what I mean? These what-ifs really messed with my head— still do. You eventually just have to accept the fact that the situation can’t be changed and learn from your mistakes.” In a lighter tone you added, “I promised myself that the next time I needed to sock it to Peter, I wouldn’t hesitate. Maybe a good hit to the head would knock some common sense back into him.”

Adam chuckled at this, his serious expression lifting. Sensing that you didn’t want to talk about such emotional topics anymore, he changed the subject slightly. “So you’re up every night because of these thoughts? Don’t you need sleep?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got enhanced stamina, so not as much as a regular person,” you said, relieved that he picked up on your hint. “What about you? You’re practically a god yourself.”

He felt his face flush with (pleased) embarrassment at your indirect compliment, even if it was truthful. “That’s part of the problem, I think,” he explained. “All this power. . . it gives me too much energy and. . . I can’t sleep.”

You frowned thoughtfully at your similar predicaments, an idea (admittedly, a stupid enough one that Peter could’ve come up with it) forming in your mind. “Y’know,” you began slowly, “Peter taught me a Terran phrase awhile back. I can’t exactly remember how it goes— it’s like two positives equal a negative, or something like that— and it means that when there’s two good things, it cancels out the bad one. We could try and apply it here.”

He gave you a curious look. “Really? How?”

“Well, since we both can’t sleep— that’s the negative— maybe. . . maybe if we slept. . .” You felt your face burning at your suggestion. “If we slept. . . tog— well, not together-together, I mean— with each— does that sound worse? I—” you struggled to find the right wording that wouldn’t come off as suggestive. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you added hastily, misunderstanding his bemused expression.

“Little Quill,” he teased you lightly, “you haven’t even gotten the question out.”

Oh. You only felt even more embarrassed. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” you finally managed to blurt out, burying your face in your hands, unable to look at the boy across from you.

Instead of taking offense or making fun of you as you’d expected, Adam seemed to actually consider your offer. “Do you think it would work?”

At his question, you dropped your hands to your lap and shrugged, though your face was still very red. He seemed remarkably unflustered, not that you could tell if he was (damn his beautiful golden skin— wait, what?) “I don’t know,” you mumbled, still refusing to look at him. “I can only sleep if I feel safe, and there’s only one person I ever felt that way with— Mantis. But. . . now I think that includes you, too.”

Adam couldn’t help the bright smile that formed on his face at your words, the thought that you felt safe with him (especially after everything that he’d done to you and your friends) meant more than he could say. The thought that you would willingly be vulnerable in his presence made his stomach feel enjoyably— and inexplicably— nauseous. “I feel safe around you too,” he replied without hesitation. “And. . . I wouldn’t mind trying it.”

Not long after, the two of you returned to the room you were renting in the dorm-style building. Since neither you nor Adam had family to speak of (and were also short on funds), you’d both found rooms in a tenant building that had lots of other people, many of whom had lost their homes during the Guardians’ most recent adventures. Luckily you’d gotten a room to yourself, though you had to share basic facilities with everyone else.

“You can sleep in the bed since this was my idea,” you offered. You were still in what you considered your pajamas, so you just had to gather some spare blankets and pillows.

Adam shook his head, against the thought of you making accommodations for him. “I can sleep on the floor. You shouldn’t have to give up your bed.”

“It’s not like I use it much anyway,” you joke, pulling the covers back. “But if you’re seriously against me sleeping on the floor, I guess we could. . . share?”

He seemed not to mind your proposal as he agreed readily, and after taking off his shoes, he made to get in when you spoke again with a confused look on your face. “You. . . sleep in your clothes? No wonder why you can’t get comfortable!”

Adam seemed to not understand your comment. “You sleep in your clothes.”

You laughed a little at his observation. “These are sleep clothes, not everyday clothes. At least take off your jacket,” you reasoned.

But as he did so, you realized why he hadn’t gotten more comfortable: there was nothing except chiseled chest under his clothes. You blushed and tried (but failed) not to stare as he got into bed next to you, admiring the way his muscles flexed with his movement. Luckily he seemed to not notice your attention as he settled next to you. There was a sizeable gap between you two despite the bed not being very big, one that you wished you had the guts to close. (Wait— again, what?)

You wondered how you’d ever get to sleep with all that muscle right behind you (okay, this one you could admit freely), but somehow, in the quiet stillness of your dark room, the safe, peaceful feeling lulled you into the first restful slumber that you’d had since your siblings had left months ago.

And if you woke up the next morning, curled up against Adam’s chest with his arm wrapped around you protectively, neither of you bothered to say anything about it.

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock x you #adam warlock imagine #will poulter x reader #will poulter imagine #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #mcu fic #adam warlock fluff #sharing a bed trope #gotg v3 #gotg imagine #guardians of the galaxy #adam warlock fanfiction

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five-hxrgreeves · 1 year

Text

Not Like Quill

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

WC: 2.5k (longer than I intended, oof!)

SUMMARY: after your half-brother and half-sister leave, you’re left to fill in Peter’s shoes on the Guardian team. Unfortunately, Rocket can only see the faults where you lack the qualities that his best friend has. Luckily, though, a certain golden boy is always there to cheer you up.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: so this is my first official one shot AND first time writing for GOTG (hopefully I did a good job.) I saw GOTG3 in the theaters almost a week ago and WOW, was I surprised by Adam!! (I make it a point to not watch trailers to avoid spoilers.) I liked Will in The Dawn Treader but I haven’t seen any of his other movies since they’re not genres I usually watch, but I have been SLEEPING on this man!! I’m now obsessed with Gally (I’ve never even seen TMR but I’ve now read a ton of FFs) and, of course, Adam. So, here’s a one-shot :)

I know that Peter gave Rocket his Zune but in this scenario he gave it to you, his other half-sister. You do have powers but they’re not really mentioned here; if anyone is interested I can make a sequel/prequel.

Part 0 , Part 2

The repairs to Knowhere were going well— or at least as well as could be expected with leaders who bickered as much as the remaining Guardians. Peter and Mantis had left the planet a few weeks ago, leaving everyone quite sad at their departure. But, there were things to do so those that remained moved on as best they could in order help out. You, however, as Peter’s half-sister, had been hit harder by their departures than the others. Mantis and Peter were the only family you had, especially since the group had killed your father (not that he’d been a good one, of course.) Sure, the other Guardians had become like family to you over the years, but they weren’t blood— but this is also the only reason why you decided to stay instead of going off on your own like your siblings.

To make matters worse, the only physical reminder that you had of your brother was his Zune, which he’d left to you since you’d always stolen it anyway. Almost every day since his departure you could be found with the Zune clipped to your belt with at least one— and often both— earbuds plugged in to drown out the world. You busied yourself with helping the rest of the population repair their homes, enjoying the physical work as it tired you out too much to think about your missing family. When you weren’t working, you were training, which is how you (more officially) met one of the newest members of the Guardians, Adam. It hadn’t been the best first meeting, but that was a story for another time.

You were grateful to him for saving your brother so after he apologized for almost killing you, you forgave him pretty easily. Since you wanted to fill up your free time as much as possible, you offered to help train him because although he had powers, he’d barely been a match for the Guardians during the initial fight. You became close because of this and you found that you enjoyed his myriad of questions. You made sure to always be patient when answering him since you knew that the other Guardians were either too busy or would snap at him.

However, that was about the only good thing that had happened to you since the defeat of the High Evolutionary. The only time you really saw Rocket, Groot, Drax or Nebula was when you helped out around the headquarters or went on a mission, and even that wasn’t the same as it used to be. Rocket was a very different leader than Peter; he was, well, smarter, so that was good, but he had yet to acquire any sort of nurturing or encouraging attitude. When they trained as a team to get used to each other (as they had also added Kraglin and Viola to the group), Rocket would veer towards critical rather than critiquing.

“No, on your left, you idiot! Your other left!”

“You call that aim? Blurp could hit the target better than you!”

And, lastly, “that’s not how Quill would do it!”

Ouch. That one was always aimed at you, for anything Rocket could criticize you for. It didn’t have to just be training; sometimes he took it to ridiculous levels, either for the music you selected or the food you cooked. Anything you did, he compared you to your brother. And of course, you loved Peter; along with the other Guardians, he had saved you and Mantis from Ego and for that alone you would love him, but he had left you terribly big shoes to fill and you weren’t even the leader. You tried to hide how much Rocket’s words affected you— usually by keeping your Zune close at hand to drown him out, but they did get you down.

Even worse was his nickname for you. Although it had once been endearing, “little Quill” now felt like more of an insult— as if he knew you could never measure up to Peter. You never confronted him about this since you knew Rocket had a barbed tongue, but after being abandoned by your siblings, his words seemed to hit you harder than before. So, you kept your distance from him as best you could and tolerated it when you couldn’t.

On this particular day, you had decided to make chocolate chip cookies, which Peter had taught you to make on the first ‘Christmas’ that you’d been with the Guardians. You were really missing your brother so you plugged in your earbuds and started on the familiar recipe. In this instance, the kitchen that you were using was communal, so it was no surprise that someone else walked in on you as you baked. You didn’t notice at first, too lost in the music of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Adam had come into the kitchen after following the sweet scent that had caught his attention. He smiled a little at the sight of you standing at the counter, elbow-deep in. . . something. It was golden in color, although lighter than his skin, and flecked with black. He waved to get your attention but as usual, you were oblivious to your surroundings (and you were a fighter?) so he made his way over to you and tapped you on the shoulder.

Feeling the presence of another person, you turned around to see who it was— if it was anyone worth talking to— and when you saw that it was the (literal) golden boy, you sent him a smile and pulled one earbud out of your ear. “Hey, Adam.”

“Hi,” he replied you, still a little uncertain with less formal greetings. “What are you making? It smells really good.”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” you said. “Peter taught me how to make them. Do you want to try some?”

He looked at what was in the bowl curiously. “What does it taste like?”

“It’s sweet. If you liked the smell I’m sure you’d like the taste. Watch,” you instructed. Then you carefully picked up a small bit that had a chocolate chip in it before you at it. You closed your eyes and hummed at the delicious flavor.

Adam copied your action carefully, even going so far as to close his eyes and make the same sound— and then he repeated it more genuinely as he realized how good it was. You grinned at his reaction. “You like it, huh?” When he nodded, you added, “want to help? I’m almost at the fun part!”

“What’s that?”

“It’s where we make the cookies— this is just the batter,” you explained.

After you both washed your hands, you showed him how to form the batter into matching spheres and line them up on the baking tray. As you worked, you talked about the music you were listening to and even transferred your spare earbud to him so Adam could listen as well. Bohemian Rhapsody had become Starless by the band King Crimson. . . and of their better-known members, Adam Belew. You couldn’t help but find it amusing that Adam had the same name, and that one of the lines was “sundown dazzling day/gold through my eyes.”

As he finished forming one of the last cookies, Adam glanced up to see the hint of laughter in your expression. Although he didn’t know what was funny, he smiled back at you. For some reason that he didn’t understand, he was happy that you were happy; it was an emotion that you didn’t really seem to show that often, so the rare chance that he got to see it only made it more special. Your grin widened at you leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially: “now comes the fun part!”

He frowned with confusion. “I thought making the. . . cookies was the fun part,” he said slowly, trying out the new word.

“Sort of, but everyone knows the fun part is licking the bowl!” you exclaimed happily. “Like this.” You scraped some of the remaining batter together until it was big enough to eat before you popped it into your mouth. Together you made quick work of the remaining batter and then you put the bowl in the sink. You’d started the oven earlier, so it was ready for the tray.

After setting the timer, you made a face. “Now it’s time for the worst part: doing the dishes. Peter hated doing them so much that we usually just put them in the contamination chamber and chucked them out to space,” you explained with a giggle. “If anyone asked why we had to buy so many new dishes we just said that Peter was really clumsy.” You finished the story with a wistful look, remembering all the fun that you and your siblings had had before the Snap had ruined everything.

Adam wasn’t sure if doing the dishes was really that bad, but the happiness that had been present while making the cookies had slipped off your face, so he figured that it must be an arduous task. Wanting to spare you the discomfort, he offered: “I can do them, if you want. You did most of the work anyway.”

His suggestion pulled you back to the present and you shook your head. “You don’t have to. Since this is your first time having cookies you can just enjoy them. Next time you have to help,” you added playfully, covering up your sadness as you always did with humor— you learned that from your brother, after all.

The golden boy allowed a small smile at that, although he’d picked up on your habit. “I can wash and you can dry?”

You agreed, and soon the task was done. While you waited for the cookies to be finished you answered a few more of Adam’s questions. You found his curiosity refreshing after spending so much time with smart-ass, know-it-all teammates that wouldn’t know how to ask question if it slapped them in their face. (And yes, you did love your teammates— that’s why you could call them out on their stubbornness.)

The cookies were done about fifteen minutes later and you took them out to cool for another ten before you took one for yourself and one for Adam. You sat down next to him and bit into the warm dessert, closing your eyes again to enjoy it. As much as you liked the batter, the finished cookie was definitely better. Adam seemed to agree as he made the same sound of enjoyment from before, causing you to open your eyes and grin at him. “Good, huh?”

“Definitely,” he agreed, and he was finished with his cookie before you were done with yours.

You saw him eye the tray greedily, which caused you to laugh. “Go ahead, you can have another one.”

As he did so, the other members of the Guardians entered the room, apparently drawn by the same scent that Adam had smelled. Kraglin took his with a nod of thanks, stuffing one in his mouth as he left the room. Viola took one as curiously as Adam had, seeing as she’d never had a cookie either.

“You can take some to the other kids,” you told her— you’d made a double batch since they were pretty popular, so there was plenty. She thanked you as well and took some extra for her friends.

Then, it was Rocket’s turn. After the rest of his reactions to whatever you did, you found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his opinion. It only took a moment before he pronounced: “not bad, Little Quill.” You perked up at that, eyes wide with hope that you had finally done something right— something that Peter couldn’t do better than you. But Rocket wasn’t done: “not like Quill’s, though.”

You slumped in your chair as he took a few extra, oblivious to the effect his words had on you— but Adam noticed. “I think hers are better than Peter’s,” he spoke up quietly.

“Sure, blondie. You ain’t never tried Quill’s though, so ya don’t have a comparison.”

“I don’t need to,” he insisted, glancing over at you. “I know they’re better.”

Rocket scoffed with disbelief but didn’t bother arguing the point (he knew he was right, anyway), and left the room without so much as a thank you. Adam glanced over at your defeated posture; you’d been so confident and happy moments before the other Guardians had come in, but now you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if Rocket’s careless words had physically hurt you. Normally your recovery time after such an incident would be fast so no one else could pick up on your feelings, but this was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back— if you couldn’t do cookies right, what hope did you have for anything else?

You suddenly felt a warm hand settle on top yours, which had been resting on the counter. You looked up sharply, surprised by the touch— you hadn’t been so much as hugged since Peter and Mantis had left. Adam’s expression was sympathetic, but there was a hint of anger in his golden eyes. “You’re not like Quill,” he said.

Unfortunately, you mistook his words after being so used to Rocket’s insults and looked away. You’d expected this sort of thing from him, not from Adam, and the blow hit you harder than anything Rocket had ever said. “I know,” you snapped, taking your hand away from his. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He gave you a confused look since he wasn’t sure what chord he’d struck to cause your reaction. It dawned on him quickly how his words could have been interpreted and he gently took your hand again as he repeated more firmly: “you’re not like Quill. You’re. . . there isn’t anything to compare. You’re not your brother— Rocket shouldn’t expect the same things from you that he did for Peter.” He hesitated for only moment before he added, “I can. . . talk to him, if you want.”

As he’d spoken, you realized you’d made a mistake and your initial thoughts had been right: Adam wouldn’t use your brother against you. You felt guilty for jumping to conclusions and gave him an apologetic look. Then, his words really sank in; a statement about how special your uniqueness was from someone whose society was literally carbon copies made your face heat up at the impact of his sentiment. You found that you couldn’t look him in the eyes and lowered your gaze to your still-connected hands. “I— thank you,” you said softly. “I just wish Rocket would see that. You don’t have to talk to him— I should be able to do that myself; I’ve been his teammate for longer, after all. But. . . I really appreciate it.”

His expression softened as he squeezed your hand, which inexplicably made your stomach roll nauseously (but in a good way, like when Peter would do loop-the-loops with Milano’s pod.) “Anytime, Little Quill.”

And just like that, “little Quill” went right back to being an endearing nickname.

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock x you #will poulter x reader #will poulter #marvel x reader #will poulter imagine #gotg imagine #gotg v3 #guardians of the galaxy #adam warlock imagine #mcu fic #mcu x reader #adam warlock fluff #adam warlock fanfiction

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