LAYLA QUILL TRUDGED ALONGSIDE
her dad and Owen, the atmosphere heavy with tension as they made their way back to the bar. Each step felt like a weight on Layla's chest, knowing she was in for it once her dad decided to address the situation. Peter remained ominously silent, a sure sign that he was seething with anger.

"So you think it's funny to not listen to me anymore?" Peter's voice finally cut through the silence, his tone clipped and controlled, yet laced with an undercurrent of restrained fury. Layla's heart sank further at the sound of his voice. She knew this tone all too well—it meant trouble.

She dared not speak, fearing that any words that slipped from her lips would only worsen her predicament. Peter often adopted this tactic of silent contemplation when she was in trouble, and Layla knew better than to provoke him further.

"What did I tell you?" Peter's voice demanded, his gaze piercing as he turned to fix his eyes on Layla.

Layla exhaled heavily before responding, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not to go far..." she muttered, barely audible.

"And what did you do?" Peter's glare intensified, his frustration palpable.

"I went far..." Layla admitted, her voice barely audible this time, filled with remorse.

Peter ran a hand through his hair in frustration, releasing a heavy sigh. "Not only did you go far, you were doing drugs," Peter's voice was taut with disappointment and concern.

Layla's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her expression mirroring her incredulity. "Drugs, dad? Really?" she exclaimed, disbelief coloring her tone.

Peter let out an exasperated groan, his patience wearing thin. He knew Layla was testing the boundaries, but he couldn't fathom her involvement in something as dangerous as drug use. "Yes, Layla, drugs. You know how I feel about young people getting involved in that kind of stuff," Peter's voice carried a hint of desperation, a plea for his daughter to understand the gravity of the situation.

"If 'tweedle dumb' is going to be a bad influence on you, I'm not going to let you hang out with him," Peter's words were firm, his resolve unwavering.

"Dad, I'm sorry...okay," Layla muttered, her voice tinged with desperation, hoping that her apology might soften the impending blow of her punishment.

Peter took a deep breath, his expression softening marginally as he looked at his daughter. "Layla Meredith Quill," he began, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of exasperation. The use of her full name made Layla cringe inwardly, knowing it meant her father was serious. "'Sorry' doesn't change the fact that you'll be grounded for the next two weeks," Peter declared, his decision final.

Layla's mouth fell open in disbelief. Two weeks of being grounded felt like an eternity to her, and she couldn't fathom being confined to the ship for that long. "Two weeks is crazy, dad!" Layla protested, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Peter merely shrugged in response, his expression unwavering. "You know what's crazy? Me having to go on a full-on search to find you," he retorted, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and annoyance. "I was worried sick!"

Layla's anger flared at her father's calm demeanor, her frustration reaching its peak, she huffed as if she was five years old again. "Should I make that three weeks?" Peter suggested, his tone laced with a hint of warning as he caught Layla's defiant glare.

With a loud groan of frustration, Layla crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her expression a mixture of defiance and resentment. "I hate you!" she exclaimed, her words dripping with adolescent indignation as she stormed ahead of her father.

Peter watched her go, a pang of hurt flickering across his features at her harsh words. "Well, that works," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with resignation as he followed after her, knowing that despite Layla's outburst, her safety and well-being would always be his top priority.

"I PRESENT TO YOU, Taneleer Tivan, the collector," announced the Pink woman who had been guiding them through the peculiar establishment.

Layla instinctively tried to distance herself from her dad, her annoyance at being grounded still lingering. Yet, in the eerie surroundings of the collector's lair, she found herself gravitating closer to him. The place was filled with glass cages containing an array of exotic species, a sight that unsettled Layla more than she cared to admit. Despite her frustration with her father, she knew she could rely on him to keep her safe in this strange environment.

The collector himself was as eccentric as his surroundings. He turned to face the group, his gaze obscured by the reflective lenses of his glasses. Approaching Gamora with an air of familiarity, he took her hand and planted a soft kiss upon it, prompting Layla to cringe inwardly. "What the fuck..." she muttered under her breath, earning a quick nudge from her father. She shot him a sheepish glance before returning her attention to the exchange unfolding before them.

"Let's bypass the formalities, Tivan. We have what we discussed," Gamora stated bluntly, cutting through the collector's theatrics.

"Rejected..." Layla couldn't help but interject, her sarcasm slipping out in a moment of defiance. She felt her father's sharp glare and quickly bit back any further comments, though she couldn't resist a small smirk.

A tense silence hung in the air before the collector spoke again, directing his attention to Groot. "What is that thing there...?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued by the sight of the towering tree-like creature.

"I am Groot," Groot replied, his expression impassive as he stood stoically.

Tivan approached Groot slowly, causing Layla to instinctively back away, her discomfort growing in the presence of the enigmatic collector. The man's unsettling demeanor sent shivers down her spine, and she found herself eyeing him warily.

"I never thought I'd meet a Groot," Tivan remarked, his voice filled with a mix of fascination and intrigue.

As Tivan continued to speak to Groot, Layla couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. His proposal to purchase Groot's remains only added to her discomfort, and she resisted the urge to scoff at the absurdity of it all. "I am Groot?" Groot questioned, his confusion evident.

"What, so he can turn you into a friggin' chair?" Rocket interjected, his skepticism evident.

Tivan glanced at Rocket before turning his attention back to Groot. "That's your pet?" he inquired, his tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Layla couldn't help but cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh at Rocket's outburst. The tension in the room was palpable, and she found herself drawn into the drama unfolding before her. "His what!" Rocket exclaimed, his indignation clear.

Before the situation could escalate further, Gamora intervened, redirecting the conversation back to the task at hand. "Tivan...we have been halfway across the galaxy, retrieving this orb," she reminded him, her voice firm.

Tivan regarded Gamora with a passive expression before conceding, "Very well then. Let us see what you brought." With a subtle pause, he gestured for Peter to present the orb, eager to examine their latest acquisition. Peter fumbled slightly as he retrieved the orb from his satchel, the weight of their mission weighing heavily upon him.

—

"BLAH, BLAH, BLAH," Rocket interjected, his patience wearing thin as they endured yet another lengthy exposition about Thanos and the significance of the elusive 'infinity stones'. The rest of the group shared his sentiment, eager to cut to the chase and collect their payment. "We're all very fascinated, but we want to get paid," Rocket quipped, his sarcasm dripping from every word.

Tivan, the collector, regarded them with an impassive expression, his tone shifting to a monotone drawl. "How do you want to get paid?" he inquired, his words eliciting an incredulous scoff from Layla. "What do you think, fancy man? Units!" Rocket retorted, his impatience palpable.

"Very well then," Tivan conceded, seemingly unfazed by Rocket's brash demeanor. As the conversation droned on, Layla found herself tuning out, her attention drifting to the pink-skinned girl named Carina who served as Tivan's assistant. There was a sense of unease emanating from her, a feeling that Layla couldn't quite shake.

"Carina, stand back," Tivan admonished his servant, his tone betraying a hint of concern. However, Carina seemed determined, her resolve unwavering as she approached the mysterious stone.

"I will no longer be your slave!" Carina declared defiantly, her voice ringing out in the tense silence of the room. Layla's eyes widened in alarm as she watched Carina reach for the stone, a sense of impending danger hanging heavy in the air.

"Oh shit..." Layla muttered under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she braced herself for what was to come.

Ka-boom!

The explosion rocked the room, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Peter frantically scanned the chaos for Layla, his heart sinking as he realized she was nowhere to be found. Panic surged through him as he ducked behind the nearest cover, his mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

In the midst of the chaos, Layla found herself propelled backward by the force of the explosion. She tumbled through the air, her senses reeling as she struggled to regain her bearings. The room erupted into chaos as debris rained down around her, the sound of explosions echoing deafeningly in her ears.

As she struggled to her feet, Layla's thoughts raced, her mind consumed by one singular goal: find her father. With determination fueling her every step, she pushed through the chaos, her eyes scanning the tumultuous scene for any sign of Peter amidst the mayhem.

Meanwhile, Peter hunkered down behind cover, his heart pounding in his chest as he sought refuge from the relentless onslaught of destruction. He knew he had to find Layla, to ensure her safety amidst the chaos that threatened to consume them all. With each passing moment, his resolve hardened, his determination to protect his daughter unwavering in the face of adversity.

LAYLA'S VISION WAS BLURRY
as she struggled to open her eyes, the remnants of smoke and dust still lingering in the air. Through the haze, she could make out a figure leaning over her, their voice barely registering in her ears. "Oh my god, roomie, are you dead?" came the familiar voice of Owen, though his words sounded distant and muffled.

Layla let out a faint groan as she attempted to sit up, her head spinning from the aftermath of the explosion. "That's not my name," she muttered weakly, her voice barely audible above the chaos surrounding them.

Owen's face broke into a relieved smile as he reached out to help her up. "She's alive!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and relief.

Layla coughed, the taste of smoke still lingering on her tongue as she struggled to catch her breath. "Sadly," she replied dryly, her lips curling into a faint smirk despite the circumstances.

Before Owen could respond, Layla heard a familiar voice calling out her name. She turned to see her father rushing towards her, his face etched with concern as he reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "Oh my god, Lay," Peter exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and worry.

Layla's heart skipped a beat as she felt her father's touch, a wave of reassurance washing over her despite the chaos that surrounded them. "Dad," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked up at him.

Peter's eyes scanned her for any sign of injury, his hands trembling slightly as he took in her appearance. "Are you okay?" he asked frantically, his voice thick with emotion.

Layla nodded weakly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She could feel a cut on her lip and a layer of dirt covering her face, but she knew she was relatively unscathed compared to what could have been. "I'm okay, Dad," she reassured him, her voice filled with gratitude.

Peter pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively as he held her close. Layla could hear the raggedness of his breaths, a testament to the fear and worry he had experienced in her absence. Layla kept her hands to her side, still a bit delirious.

"I freaked out when I couldn't find you," Peter admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he held her tightly. Layla felt a pang of guilt wash over her at the thought of causing her father such distress.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Peter breathed out, pulling away from the hug to look at her with tear-filled eyes.

"Dad, are you crying?" She teased him, a smirk playing at the edges of her mouth.

"No...just worried." He said, pulling her back into another embrace.

Perhaps he was so worried he would unground her? Probably not...

—

authors note: so I finally updated, yay! I might fix up a few chapters before I update again which won't take long but my writing style changes a lot so I'm just gonna adjust a few things.

Layla and Peter are adorable ahhhh but laylas swearing issue 😭

I'm at 7k read WHATTT???

luv u guys xx

-ava